#and it was also supposed to be done oh I don't know like five hours ago

[meownotgood]

it was only supposed to be 2k words

posting this either tonight or tomorrow. if I don't, one of the akis on my shelf will be punished. violently.

interact if you'd like to be tagged 🤍

[lowkeychenle]

Like We Just Met [ZCL] (M)

Description: Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever.

Genre: Fluff (literally SO MUCH FLUFF we love Chenle in this house go away if you don't) // Smut

Content Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex (it's actually sweet this time am I feeling okay), talks about marriage etc etc. Nothing really dark or upsetting in here.

Word Count: 11,292 (y'all I have no idea how this happened...)

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. the rest of the Dreamies)

ISTJ 7Dream Series Masterlist

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests/Tell me what you think of this plz <3

Tag List (open for ISTJ 7Dream Series): @kunvibing

Author's Note: Lowkey? This was so fun because it's from Chenle's POV...or it's supposed to be haha. This is probably my favorite fic I've ever written catch me crying in the corner...also this gif don't mind the real tears in my eyes

Nobody questioned Renjun when he said he’d invited his friend to dance practice. They brought friends in every now and then, so it wasn’t anything new. Chenle was having a bit of an off day. He kept screwing up the choreography (that he’d done seven hundred times probably in the past week alone) and even accidentally elbowed Jaemin.

Renjun’s friend had yet to show up. Chenle was beyond frustrated with the way things were going, so he let everyone know he was taking a break. He grabbed his water bottle and stomped out of the practice room.

He ended up a bit down the hallway, resting his back on the wall with his eyes closed. All he needed was a break. That had to be it.

“Are you okay?” a soft voice asked.

When he looked at you, he recoiled a bit. He’d never seen you before—he’d definitely remember—but something about you felt familiar. Like a warm aura surrounded you and infiltrated him in the best ways.

“You’re Chenle, right?” You tilted your head at him. “I’m Renjun’s friend, (Y/N). I was supposed to watch practice, but I got lost. This building is pretty big.”

“Yeah, I’m Chenle.” He blinks at you a couple more times. “Um, we’re always in the same practice room. I’ll take you over there.”

“Actually, is there a place to get some water? I forgot mine at home.” You scratched the top of your head and scrunched up your nose. “It was really hot outside.”

“It’s on the way.” He gestured down the hall with his head.

You followed him without hesitation. He was acutely aware of every step you took, of how there was only a few feet between the two of you. Even though he had no clue what to say to you, you didn’t mind walking along in silence. It was unlike him to be shy. Next to impossible for him to be starstruck.

“How long have you known Renjun for?” he asked. And why the hell had you not come around sooner?

“Oh.” You took a deep breath and pursed your lips in thought as Chenle stopped to grab you a water bottle from the kitchen. “Four years now? Five? His family knows mine, so when I came back here, his parents told him he had to help me find my way around.”

“Well, today’s pretty laid back,” Chenle explains. “We’ll probably practice for another hour or two and then go home. We’ve been at it all day.”

You hum in response, opening the cap and taking a sip. “Thank you for this. Sorry to keep you from practice.”

“Don’t be. I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” Chenle chuckles, gaze drinking you in when you’re distracted by your water. “And…they can be a little…much at first. But they’re all great people, so you’ll be fine.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m nervous.” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully.

He bit back a smile, pressing his lips into a thin line instead. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Renjun has given me plenty of warnings,” you tell him.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken you to the practice room yet. The two of you stood in the kitchen, but he knew the second you were with everyone else, the conversation was over. He didn’t want to stop talking to you, and that odd feeling of warmth settled into his chest.

“Like what?” Chenle raised his eyebrows.

“He said you’re cranky and mean.” You smiled at him, and he swore he was almost knocked off his feet. There was something about you that drew him in.

Chenle made a mental note to scold Renjun later, but he’s not necessarily wrong…he was cranky until he saw you.

“Well, in that case, what he said about everyone else is probably accurate, too.”

“You don’t look cranky,” you interjected. “You’re not mean either. Mean people don’t get strangers water bottles.”

“I’m mean to Renjun. And Jisung.”

“They’re your friends. You get a pass for your friends.” You slid one of your hands into the back pocket of your jeans, rocking on the balls of your feet as silence befell the room.

“They’re waiting for me,” Chenle says. “We should go.”

You nodded in agreement and followed him. He sulked a bit when the other members were introduced to you. They were all nice—because they always were—but when it came time to get back to practice, he found himself gravitating toward you several times.

Nearly every time he looked at you, you were already looking at him, too. Maybe it wasn’t just him that felt the weird tug. He hoped it wasn’t.

After they wrapped everything up, Chenle sat against the back wall, feeling so heavy as if he could fall asleep right there. He was exhausted.

Jaemin, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark were already on their way out the door, leaving Jisung to slump next to Chenle and Renjun to talk with you. Jisung noted how he was watching you, but he didn’t say anything right away. He drank his water and stayed quiet.

You said something to Renjun, who smiled at you and nodded. He headed for the door and waited for you outside. When Chenle realized you were coming over to him, he shot a worried glance over at Jisung.

“Would you look at that?” Jisung cleared his throat. “Time for me to go.”

Before Chenle could even grab him, Jisung was halfway to the door. Once you were in front of him, you sat down and crossed your legs.

“You did really well today.”

He chuckled. “I think that’s the worst I’ve done this comeback season.”

“Then you’re in pretty good shape.” You shrugged, picking at the seam of your jeans. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me earlier.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he said. “You’re Renjun’s friend. Of course, I’d help you.”

“Right.” You brushed your hair over your shoulder and prepared to stand up. “I should go—”

“Will you be coming back?” The question shot out of his mouth, sending a blush to his cheeks in response.

“I’m not sure,” you told him. “That’s up to Renjun I guess. It was really cool to see how passionate you guys are.”

“Let me give you my number.” Chenle grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Um, just in case you get lost again. And need help finding the room.” He cringed at himself, hoping he wasn’t going to get rejected.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You gave him the tiniest smile, but it made his heart flutter anyway.

He handed it to you with the contact app open. You didn’t even hesitate to type in your name and number. After, you sent yourself a text, and Chenle heard it ring in your back pocket. You gave it back to him, grinned, and left him sitting there in shock.

He couldn’t choose between staring at you as you left and looking down at your contact open on his screen. His stomach twisted with nerves, but the second he saw the smiley face emoji you’d put next to your name, he already knew.

You were going to be someone to him.

Mark drops something in the kitchen, snapping Chenle out of it. He looks at you, and you smile back at him. With you pressed into his side and your legs over his lap, he can’t help but grin right back.

His hand rests on your thigh, thumb sliding gently back and forth as he presses a kiss to your temple. He’d never get used to this.

After returning from the kitchen, Mark allows the game to resume. His nose scrunches as he glances between you and Chenle. “That’s a weird ass question.”

“Not weird.” Chenle shakes his head. “Critical thinking, Mark, you should try it.”

“Oh, be nice.” You shove his shoulder.

For a while now, Chenle has felt his feelings growing more than he thought possible. He’s already in love with you (thankfully, since you’ve been together almost a year now), but something about you lately has him on a whole other level. Even then, he’s not sure what it is. He decides he’ll ride it out for a while and see where it takes him.

“Why would you ask your girlfriend what year she’d take a time machine back to? Shouldn’t she be like…happiest now?” Mark asks, sipping on whatever mixed drink he’d prepared in Chenle’s kitchen.

“You’d think.” Chenle snorts, leaning back against the couch and throwing his arm around you.

“He asks me questions like this all the time,” you tell Mark. When you steal a glance at your boyfriend, his breath catches in his chest.

What the hell is going on with him lately? He can’t concentrate around you (even more than usual) and every tiny thing you do has his heart hammering against his ribcage. Soon enough, he’s sure you’ll both hear the bones crack.

“Has anyone, by chance, ever told you two that you’re gross?” Mark chuckles to himself and leans back in the recliner. “Some of us are single and lonely, you know.”

“Some of us will never be that again,” Chenle shoots back.

“Oh, you two are the worst.” Your laugh echoes pleasantly in his ears, and he subconsciously leans closer to you.

“I am curious what your answer is, though,” Mark interjects. “Since Chenle’s so sure.”

Chenle takes a sip of his own drink, nearly cringing at the bitter taste dragging down his throat. He’s not much of a drinker—social at best. But he can still appreciate the buzz and the hazy happiness that comes with it. You take his hand that dangles over your shoulder, twirling the friendship ring wrapped around his middle finger. The action is so, so simple, yet it makes his stomach turn.

If he doesn’t figure out what the hell’s going on with him soon, he’s gonna have to separate himself from you.

“Well, you’re right.” You shrug, shuffling closer to Chenle. “This part of my life has definitely been the best. But if I could go back to any time, it would probably be when we met. You only get to meet Zhong Chenle once in your life, dude. I’d do it over and over again if I could. The second I saw him, I knew he would be important to me.”

Chenle thinks back to the moment he first saw you. The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you like an actual child or the way he took in every detail of you to store in his mind forever—just in case he never got to speak to you again. He pauses, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he analyzes your answer.

Mark groans. “That doesn’t count! That was last year.”

Grabbing the pillow next to him, Chenle throws it at his friend. “Leave her alone, it was a good answer.”

But when he contemplates that thought, he’s not sure he understands what you mean. His ears burn, the tips of them turning red as he recalls how embarrassingly nervous he was around you all the time. How awkward all of your firsts together were. Everything now is so much better than back then.

Not to mention he’s looked at you the same way since that first night. His feelings for you have grown, sure, but those butterflies he used to get still torment him just about every time he sees you smile.

“Why?” Chenle finally asks.

“You were so cute,” you hum, shifting closer to him. “Everything made you nervous. You almost keeled over in embarrassment when you asked to hold my hand.”

Mark laughs, and Chenle sends a glare his way. No part of that is even anywhere near funny.

“Okay, it's your turn.” Mark gestures at you.

Chenle resists the urge to reach over and touch your face. Usually, he’s so much better about being so clingy in front of his friends and, while he would prefer Mark not seeing this side of him, he couldn’t care less when his gaze is locked with yours.

“Cool.” You nod, taking a sip of your drink. “Both of you. Hypothetical situation. Let’s say you’re drunk. You walk into a room and everyone you’ve ever loved is in there. Like…loved. Who are you going to?”

“Dude.” Mark’s jaw drops. “That’s such a shitty question for me.”

“You’ll live,” Chenle replies. “Just romantic love?”

“All of it. Platonic, romantic, family.” You purse your lips in thought.

Chenle doesn’t have to think about it. Not really. He’d rather get struck by lightning and then hit by a bus right after before admitting that so easily in front of Mark. In this case, it’s always been you. From the second you spoke to him for the first time, he was irrevocably yours. 

“You.” Chenle watches your eyebrows raise.

“Be serious,” you say. “Your parents are included in that.”

“I’m serious. You.” Chenle chuckles.

You give him a pointed look, but that’s when Mark cuts in.

“No, he’s for real. Like…that legitimately happened.” Mark leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs as he rests his head in his palms. “Do you guys not remember?”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him, frowning.

Chenle remembers. Barely, and it’s a bit foggy, but it comes back like a baseball bat upside the head as Mark starts telling the story.

Chenle’s birthday party last year. The night was barely halfway through and he was drunk enough to be stumbling over his feet. He’d heard you were coming, but he had yet to see you. Even when every other feeling was numbed by the tingling sensation the alcohol left behind, his craving to see you was all that remained. 

Mark walked next to him, having a full conversation with himself since Chenle was so fog-brained. As much as he loved Mark, there was only one person he wanted to see. Everyone he knew and loved was here—his parents, the rest of his group, and Jisung had somehow forgotten to uninvite Chenle’s ex.

He only ever dated one person before you, but he wasn’t sure he ever loved her. Regardless, there she was. Even with her standing across the room from him, he kept waiting like a lost puppy.

When you walked in, he swore the whole world stopped around him. Everyone but you was moving in slow motion before they eventually faded into nothing, darkness that was emphasized by the light you were. His breath caught in his throat, and he stopped walking.

Chenle couldn’t form a coherent thought while he stared at you, drunken stupor making it so much easier to forget the embarrassment. Mark watched him curiously as Chenle made his way over to you. He refused to waste any more time when he knew you were the one he wanted to talk to.

You had always been more confident around him than he was around you. Your face lit up when you saw him, wrapping your arms around him. He secured you in his grasp, breathing in the scent of your hair and the perfume you wore.

“Happy birthday.” Your voice is muffled a bit by his T-shirt. “Sorry I’m late, took a bit longer to get ready than I thought it would.”

He knew he should’ve let you go. People were starting to notice the way he was clinging to you, and not even being drunk could excuse that behavior. He was about ready to tell everyone except you to leave. Nothing else mattered. If he could spend his birthday with you, it would be the best one yet.

It’d been two months since Renjun had introduced you to the rest of them. Which means, he’s only known of your existence for two months, and you already command so much of his brain matter that he can’t think of anyone but you. Great.

He finally (reluctantly) let you go and led you over to the rest of the group. Nobody said anything when he made Mark scoot over so you could sit next to him. Nobody questioned it. His parents would ask him about it later, but until then, there was no reason for him to worry. After all, his crush on you was the most obvious thing in the world, so it was only a matter of time before you found out about it.

By the end of the night, he hadn’t spent enough time with you. People were starting to shuffle out, but you stayed, chatting with Renjun until only four remained. Chenle’s parents had gone to bed long ago. You were almost caught up to him on drinks, your laughs longer and your movements slower.

Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have been as brave as to walk up to you and ask you to stay the night. He didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, either. He just didn’t want you to leave yet.

“Chenle,” Renjun scolds, swatting his shoulder. “You can’t ask something like that so casually.”

“You want me to stay here? With you?” Your voice was higher than normal. Chenle accredited it to the alcohol raging in your system.

“I like when you’re here.” Chenle nodded. “You make everything calm.”

Renjun scrunched up his face, slamming his forehead into his palm. “(Y/N), you should probably go home—”

“No, it’s okay.” You brushed him off. “I’m okay with staying.”

Oh, he was in love with you. There was no other explanation for the way his heart skipped a beat when those words came out of your mouth.

Chenle doesn’t remember the rest of that night, but he does recall waking up next to you in the morning and freaking out. Alcohol made him brave, but it didn’t save him from the red-hot embarrassment of the next day.

“I didn’t even realize…” you trailed off, a small smile forming on your face. “You picked me.”

“I’ll always pick you,” Chenle responds easily, like second nature.

Mark decides it’s time for him to leave, but Chenle’s mind is still reeling with memories. With all of the firsts you said you wished you could relive. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t figure out what the fuck this feeling is. As the two of you climb into bed, he’s so distracted, he can’t fall asleep, even with you curled into his chest.

“(Y/N),” Chenle groaned when he saw you in the practice room mirror. “You gotta stop showing up here if you don’t want me to fall in love with you.”

It was a joke. Sort of.

“Right, and let you forget to eat? I think not.” You fought back every time, unphased by the way he so casually admitted he’s starting to fall for you.

At least, that was his idea of admitting it.

You walked over with the bags in your hand, sitting down on the practice room floor next to him. 

“I haven’t even been here that long,” Chenle defended himself. “I would’ve eaten after I left.”

You unloaded the contents, opening boxes. “I can go if that’s what you want.”

“Not what I said.” For some reason, he felt a sudden burst of courage. He’s known you for four months at this point, and something about today felt…right. “I was serious, you know.”

“About what?” You grabbed the drinks from the carrier.

“You.”

“What?” You recoiled, looking at him in confusion.

He contemplated telling you to forget it. That it didn’t matter, and thank you for the food instead. If you didn’t feel the same way for him, he’d be devastated. And then you’d leave him for good and take all the food with you. He was starving.

“If you keep doing nice things for me, I’m gonna fall for you.” As if he hasn’t already.

You paused, but Chenle didn’t miss the blush on your face. Clearing your throat, you looked away from him and took a deep breath. His fists clenched as he awaited your rejection, but the longer the silence stretched, the more he felt you might want him to.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it,” you finally said and brushed your hair behind your ears. Reaching forward for the food again, you gave Chenle a shocked look when he grabbed your wrist.

“You’re right. I’m not going to fall for you. I already did.”

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as his words settled in the air around both of you. With his heart racing, he released your wrist and intertwined your fingers instead.

“I really, really like you.”

“You should really eat your food before it gets cold.” You pulled your hand from his and pushed the box closer to him.

He stared blankly at the wall, noting the sudden chill on his skin that you left behind. A sinking feeling encapsulated his chest, and he knew he ruined everything. You looked like you were ready to run.

“Forget I said anything,” he told you. “I’m sorry if that was weird.”

“Eat,” you commanded again. “I’m not talking about this with you until I know you’ve eaten. If you don’t, we’ll go off on a tangent and you’ll be starving all night.”

“Does that mean you—”

“Yes, Chenle.” You interrupted him. “Yes, I really, really like you too, which is why I want to make sure you eat.”

At that moment, Chenle realized that if he walked outside and randomly dropped dead, he’d be okay with it now that he’s gotten that confession out of you. There wasn’t a damn thing that could top that. Everything else in life would be subpar to today, so there was no point in trying.

You and Chenle ate in silence. He kept stealing glances at you, catching you doing the same to him. If all he had to do in order to get you to talk about your feelings with him was eat, he’d do it, albeit probably a bit too fast for his own good.

Chenle runs his fingers through his hair, his thumb tracing gentle shapes against the bare skin of your arm. These memories have no business popping up in the middle of the night. He has practice tomorrow. He’ll be so off his game, the other members will want to kill him.

Usually, he has no problem falling asleep, especially with you right beside him. Over the past year, you’ve probably spent more nights with him than you have at your own place. He teases you for it all the time, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Closing his eyes, he listens to the soft sounds of your breathing and allows himself to feel the way your body slots with his so easily. Everything about you is perfect. About the two of you together. He would toss and turn, but no way is he going to disturb you. Even if he can’t sleep, he’d never screw up your schedule on purpose.

“It’s so pretty.” You were in awe, staring at the sunset from Chenle’s backyard. He’d set up a picnic date for the two of you, and afterward, you were watching the sun fade below the treeline while lying on top of a red blanket.

His fingers were intertwined with yours, something that had become so normal for you. Two weeks since his confession, and it was the second date he planned. He wondered, obsessed over, even, what your thought process was on all of this. Were you happy? Did he make you happy?

He wanted to kiss you when he confessed to you. And while he came close to it on your first date, he decided against it. It had to be perfect. Nothing was good enough for you in his mind, especially when all he wanted was to make sure you knew just how he felt about you.

How was he supposed to tell you that?

He’d already said he fell for you, but that didn’t begin to cover it. Not really. You made him want to put in effort, made him crave your happiness like it was the very oxygen he breathed. At the same time, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t want to kiss you. Hell, he’d already dreamed of it, for fuck’s sake, so that definitely wasn’t the issue.

Lost in thought, he’s only snapped out of it by the way you rolled over, lying on your stomach so you can get a good look at his face. You rested your head on your right palm, your left finding his bicep.

“You’re so perfect,” he hummed, twirling your hair with his fingers. “Could look at you forever.”

“Some people might have an issue with that.” You laughed.

“We’re the only ones that matter,” he responded.

Your smile slowly faded, a look of longing replacing it as your gaze softened.

God, he wanted to kiss you. He needed to.

All thoughts of the perfect moment have fled from his brain. Any moment would be perfect as long as it’s you.

He sat up and you leaned forward, and before he knew it, his nose brushed yours. Your eyes fluttered shut in preparation. The heat of the sun sank into his skin. Your perfume wafted from you, intertwining with the air and suffocating him in the best ways. If he could pick one scent to smell for the rest of his life, it would be yours.

Was it normal to have these thoughts so early?

Why was he thinking of that right now? Literally the worst possible time.

“Can I?” he whispered, scared to ruin everything.

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your mouth, he kissed you. Everything about you was soft, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised to find your lips the same way. His hands shook as he touched your waist.

He was already in big trouble. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to stop there. His heart thudded so loud, he was halfway sure you could hear it, too. It felt like sparks flew between you two, absolute electricity coursing through every single one of his veins, heating up his bloodstream and making the thought of pulling away from you the absolute worst case scenario.

You moved away first, gasping for breath. Chenle craved tugging you back to him. His body reacted to you in ways it had never reacted to anyone else. He didn’t want to take it too far, but he sure as hell didn’t want to stop, either.

He couldn’t describe the way you felt. The way you tasted. Everything about you was so heart-achingly perfect, he wanted to experience you all the time. He wanted to rewind time so he could kiss you again for the first time, and he’d do it over and over and over again.

Something about first kisses set him on fire. He was absolutely sure he’d kiss you more. In fact, he was seconds away from it. But the adrenaline coming from the very first brush of your lips on his wasn’t something he’d ever be able to recreate.

“Again.” You leaned in once more.

He met you in the middle eagerly, hand finding the back of your head before he turned you so you were lying on your back. Half of his weight pressed against you, but he did his best to keep himself lifted up so you weren’t uncomfortable.

Unforgettable heat swarmed him, the sun caressing his skin as your fingers gently traced down the back of his neck. Goosebumps formed, but he could hardly pay attention to them. The entire world was gone, and you were everything, the only person remaining in a sea of nothingness. He wanted you. Needed you.

This was technically your second kiss, but in his mind, it was still the first since they happened almost at the same time. He hadn’t stopped to take a breath in much too long, but he’d rather suffocate than separate from you.

He stopped when your breath hitched, completely lost in the sound. When he wasn’t focusing on your mouth anymore, he realized why—his hand had somehow found its way to your upper thigh. His face burned as he removed it.

“I didn’t…” he trailed off, scanning over your face for any hint of what you were feeling. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

You chuckled at him, pushing his shoulder. “You wish that excuse would work on me.”

The sky faded into a beautiful lilac color, the kind that only appeared when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Clouds drifted effortlessly, stars beginning to shine.

“Should we go inside?” Chenle asked. “It’ll get cold without the sun.”

Whenever he looked at you, he knew you were different. He couldn’t place how, but nobody else had ever made him feel the way you do. Like his heart was going to burst out of his chest while simultaneously stopping and also skipping every other beat. He didn’t even know how he was alive anymore.

In the last two weeks since his confession, the boys had told him how much happier he was. How he was striving with more effort lately and trying his best at any given moment of the day. You were his motivation. You made him want to be the absolute best he could be, and even as new as the relationship was, he’d already known you for months—he was nervous about you deciding you wanted something else. Someone who wasn’t him.

The moment before replayed in his head, and he heard that breath hitch on repeat while he awaited your answer. He did his best to stop thinking about it, but nothing worked. All he wanted to do was kiss you again, over and over and over until the literal end of time.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Let’s go inside.”

His cheeks redden just thinking of that memory. The first time he ever kissed you, and he royally fucked up because his hand didn’t know how to stay put. At this point, it’s clear he’s not going to be able to fall asleep. He hates the idea of leaving you in bed alone, but he’s only going to disturb you if he doesn’t plan on sleeping.

Sliding away from you carefully, he quietly gets up and heads into the kitchen. He runs his fingers through his hair. His hands down his face. He must be sentimental today, because he can’t stop thinking about you for the life of him. Every memory from the last year pokes at his head, and he has no clue how to handle it.

Patting his cheeks, he heads over to the fridge to grab a water bottle. Photos of the two of you are framed up on the wall. There’s one picture in particular he always says is his favorite, but he refuses to tell you why.

The two of you were sitting on the floor, and you had the cutest glare on your face. He sees the adoration gleaming in your gaze even though you look about ready to strangle him. In your defense, you probably were. He lets out a tiny laugh, tracing over the frame. 

There’s even one with Chenle between you and Jisung, and a group picture with you and the boys. Chenle loves his friends dearly, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms says a lot about both your relationship with them and his potential future with you. Everyone in his life loves you. You’re the one they call when Chenle’s upset or if he’s off his game, and no matter when or where this is happening, you show up to make him feel better.

He could be having the worst day of his entire existence, and a simple ‘I love you’ passing from your lips has him forgetting everything shitty about the world. Looking back at the pictures, he’s drawn back into memory.

He heard the birds outside his window before he saw the gleaming sun. His eyes fluttered open while he groaned quietly at the sudden change of brightness. Your body was like a fireball, your skin searing hot against his, but it did little to bother him. His groan turned into a sigh of content, and he wrapped his arms around you tighter. Fingertips trailing down your bare spine, he kissed your forehead.

Three months together, and every night spent with you made him fall deeper in love. He’d never known peace as he did at that moment. No interruptions, just the two of you basking in each other’s embrace.

He could’ve stayed like that forever—he wanted to, but glancing at the clock, he realized how close it was to noon. Jaemin would be there soon, and the last thing Chenle needed was him in his house when you were naked in his bed.

He reluctantly got up, dressing himself before grabbing some clothes for you. You have a drawer, multiple, actually, but he picked his own T-shirt for you to wear. When he made it over to you, you were stirring.

“You got up.” You pouted at him, staring at him through half-closed eyes. “And you have clothes on.”

Chenle laughed. “Sorry, love. Jaemin will be here soon.”

“It’s that late?” you asked.

Chenle nodded, setting the clothes down next to you. He kissed you softly, gently, a kiss so barely there it left you leaning forward to try to continue it. Cupping your cheek, he brushed his thumb along your skin.

You didn’t need help getting dressed, but he did it anyway. He loved the way you looked in his T-shirts, and even though it’s long enough to cover you, no way he’d risk it. Once you were finished, the two of you got ready for the day. You brushed your teeth together, he watched you brush your hair, and by the time you’re done, Jaemin was walking in the front door.

The three of you sat on the floor around Chenle’s coffee table, playing a game. He can’t remember what the game was anymore, only that you were terrible at it and that he loved winning.

Jaemin teased both of you the whole time, ruffling Chenle’s hair on multiple occasions. As much as he’d love to deny it, Chenle enjoyed that Jaemin liked the two of you together. It was almost like an affirmation, even if he didn’t need one.

Being the professional picture-snapper he was, Jaemin took the picture now hanging up on Chenle’s wall. You, with your arms crossed over your chest and a big pout on your face, and Chenle, smiling widely at you with such adoration in his eyes it should’ve been impossible.

“Lele?” Your soft voice breaks him away from his memory. He turns to you quickly, heart instantly halting in his chest when he sees his shirt on you.

“What are you doing up?” he asks.

“I was gonna ask you that.” You rub your eyes, feet shuffling on the floor as you walk over to him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies and takes you in his arms with ease. “Didn’t want to bug you, sunshine.”

You don’t respond. All you do is bury your head in his chest and breathe him in. He runs his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head. With all the lights off, the only illumination is the full moon outside as it casts shadows on the ground. The faint blue makes you that much more ethereal to him.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mm,” you hum in response. “This is nice.”

Chenle smiles. “Yeah, it is. Always is.”

After a bit of silence and rocking you gently, an idea sparks. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, finding the playlist he made specifically for when he thinks about you, and sets it on the counter. You stare at him in tired confusion, but when one of his arms wraps around your waist, you catch on.

“What are you doing?” Humor is laced in your voice, but the sweet look on your face tells him his actions are making you happy. That’s his goal, constantly. All he wants is to make you happy.

“Checking something off the bucket list,” he replies, slowly turning you to the soft beat.

“Something’s missing,” you say as he twirls you.

He steals a glance at the way his shirt rides up your legs, showing just a peek of your panties beneath it.

“What?” he asks, pulling you back to him.

“Sing to me.” You place your hand on his chest.

His heart betrays him at that moment. It rages, and he knows you can feel it. Chenle sings in front of thousands of people all the time, but something about you is different. Something about you right now is different.

“What’s going on up in there?” You run your fingers through his hair. “You’ve been all weird today.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. “Everything. From the moment we met up until this…it keeps repeating over and over again.”

“Welcome to my world,” you replied, grasping his shoulders. You massage them gently as you sway along with the music.

The confession from you makes him smile. At least he’s not the only one doing constant circles in his head. He calms a bit, and when a new song plays, he sings to you. Your body immediately relaxes into his, as if every stress you’ve ever had has left you without hesitation.

Chenle loves to sing. He does it all the time, and he only wants to keep getting better. To have someone like you as his partner, someone who supports him endlessly and genuinely loves his voice…it’s unparalleled.

He’s not sure how long the two of you are like this, or how long he’s singing for, but song after song, all he knows is that you’re smiling. You’re looking at him with unmatched adoration in your eyes, pure love. Nobody else has ever looked at him in this way, and he doesn’t want them to.

He wants to stay here with you and watch you love him in ways he’s never been loved before.

He stops. His singing fades out, and he furrows his eyebrows as he finally, finally realizes what’s been happening to him. You tilt your head, able to ask him questions without saying anything. His chest feels like it’s going to burst.

You’re it. 

You’re everything, and he’s going to marry you.

He’s going to spend the rest of his life striving to make sure you love him as much as you do right now, if not more.

It seems like you feel it, too. Your face softens and you reach up to trace along his cheekbone. He leans into your touch, chasing the warmth like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“I know.” You grin so wide, Chenle almost thinks it’ll split your face in two.

“Good.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “I hope I’m doing a good job in showing you that every day.”

You pause, hands trailing down from his cheeks to his shoulders. “I have never once doubted that you love me, Lele. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“I promise you I’ve never felt better,” he replies. “Just checking in with you.”

“You do so much more than you realize. No matter how busy you are, you text me to tell me you love me or that you’re thinking about me. You practice non-stop with the boys but you still make an effort with me when you could easily use that as an excuse. There is not one thing I could ask for that you don’t already do.” You press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll never doubt you.”

“Sometimes I worry,” he admits. “You make me…want to be better. In every way possible. In my career, in my life, with you. And if I’m not being better every day, then I don’t deserve you.”

“Chenle.” You give him a pointed look. “When I think back to the first day we met, I remember how…how you acted from the first time you spoke to me. At the time, I really thought I was crazy, but I knew you’d be someone to me. You didn’t even know me, but you were so kind. And now that we’re here like this, you haven’t changed. There’s no getting better. You’re already the best.”

“How do you do that?” He chuckles, kissing your forehead.

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what to say.”

“That’s my special talent,” you tell him.

“We should get back to bed,” Chenle says, sleep weighing on him. “Meeting the boys tomorrow.”

He grabs his phone from the counter, his heart full and warm as he leads you back to his bedroom. This time, as he’s lying with you pressed to his chest, he’s able to fall into his dreamland.

Despite his lack of sleep, Chenle is full of energy the next day. He wakes up and makes you coffee just the way you like before sitting on the edge of the bed by your sleeping form. When he sets the cup on the nightstand, you stir, turning over to face him.

“You’re gonna be late,” you mumble, even though you have no idea what time it is.

Chenle chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay? You can stay here if you want. Wanted to tell you I love you before I left.”

“Love you, too,” you say with a tired smile, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold. I’ll grab dinner for us on my way back.”

Walking away from you feels like someone’s trying to rip his heart out of his chest. You’re an extension of him at this point, and after his sudden realization last night, all he wants to do is spend the day curled up with you.

Luckily for him, his day passes by pretty quickly. He got a lot done today, and he was proud of that. You’d be proud of him, too. He’s itching to get home and tell you everything that happened. Staying true to his word, he picks up your favorite takeout.

He’s going to be honest with you about what was going on with him yesterday. It’s the right thing to do—and in a perfect world, you’ll feel the same way he does. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he admitted his feelings for you. Even though that side of him feels worlds away now, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

But the restaurant isn’t the only stop he makes.

He’s shaking by the time he gets back. Is a year really enough time? It is for him, but what if you think he’s insane?

When he arrives, he’s not expecting what you’ve done at all. The main lights are off, but a dim golden glow from the strips along the wall and the candles illuminate the room enough. He sets the bag down on the table, completely forgetting about the food as he searches for you.

“(Y/N)?”

“You’re earlier than I thought you’d be,” you tell him, walking out of his bedroom while still putting in an earring.

His throat dries. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words could ever justify the way you look right now. You put on a dress, one of his favorites, and he’s in jeans and a T-shirt.

You kiss his cheek. “I figured you deserve something nice to come home to.”

“You’re my something nice.” He wraps his arm around your waist. “Should I change?”

“We’re not going anywhere.” You shake your head. “Just relax and enjoy your gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Oh, I can get on board with that.” He allows you to lead him back to the table.

Once he’s taking the food out of the bag, he keeps stealing glances at you. You put in all this effort for him, and he knows how much work it must’ve been to hang up all these lights. The golden glow looks ethereal against your skin.

“Before we eat, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He clears his throat to stop it from collapsing in on itself, but it doesn’t work.

“What’s up?” You set your elbow on the table and rest your head on your palm. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect, actually.” He takes a deep breath, reaching to grab your free hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You bite back a laugh.

“You can’t make fun of me for what I’m about to tell you.” He gives you the most serious look he can muster, and you nod.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you reassure him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I…I want to love you forever.” He gulps. “And when I think of everything we’ve gone through and been through together, I seriously can’t imagine ever trying to have anyone else fill this spot you hold in my life.”

You perk up a bit, gaze staring into his. God, he loves how interested you are in what he has to say. How you’re listening to him so intently. His thumb rubs over your knuckles as he tries to think of the words he wants to use.

“I want to marry you. Call me crazy if you want, tell me you hate the idea, that’s fine, but I had to tell you. We obviously can’t get married now, or probably any time soon because of my contract, but I want you to know that it’s what I want. It’s what’s going to happen if you want it, too.”

You clear your throat and cover your mouth with your hand, eyes welling. Chenle’s heart aches seeing this reaction, knowing you feel as strongly as he does. He reaches into his pocket and puts a small box on the table in front of you.

“It’s not the real thing. Not yet. But I want you to know how serious I am, because if I was able to marry you, I would’ve done it yesterday.” He opens it, revealing a simple band in it. “Subtle enough where people won’t ask questions, but we’ll know.”

“Chenle, are you being serious right now?” You sniffle. “This is a very cruel prank.”

“The guys and I sat down together today to write a song. I think you’ll love it, so when we record it I’m sneaking you a copy. Anyway, we were there for twenty minutes, and words were just flowing out of me. I wrote about you. About how you make me feel, and I think anyone who knows about us will understand that when they listen to the song.”

He pauses to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“I want you. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life proving to you why I deserve that. Let me put this ring on you, and this can be the start.”

You quickly wipe your face as you nod. He takes your left hand, grabs the ring out of the box, and slips it on your middle finger.

“One day, this will be real.” Chenle catches another one of your tears. “I love you. There is not one thing in this world that could change that.”

His heart pounds in his chest as he watches your reaction. He wants to touch you and kiss you after pouring his thoughts out to you, but he needs to make sure you’re feeling the same way. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you.

His palms are sweaty and he can barely sit still. You groan, giving one last aggressive swipe below your eyes before you launch up from your chair and end up in his lap. You bury your head in his neck, squeezing him tighter than you should. He instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, softly chuckling at your outburst.

“You better not change your mind.” Cupping both of his cheeks, you try your best to look angry. “If you do, I’m marrying you anyway.”

His own vision blurs at the sight of you. You love him as much as he loves you, and you want to be with him forever.

You want to be with him forever.

The emotions rioting inside him surprise even him, and he blinks quickly to try and suppress the tears. It’s no use, because as soon as you notice, you start crying again. He groans and drops his head back on the chair, squeezing you closer to him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Chenle says.

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His mouth finds yours, both of you falling into each other’s rhythm. Saltiness from your tears lingers on your lips. He weaves his fingers through your hair, but no matter what he does, you’re just not close enough.

Pulling away from you, he rests his forehead on yours. “You should eat, sunshine.”

“You expect me to be able to eat after all of that?” You furrow your eyebrows. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“You’ll be sad if it gets cold,” he reminds you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be sad again,” you whisper.

All thoughts escape him. Nothing else exists except for you, wrapped around him like a damn koala bear. He rests his hand on your thigh and lets your words sink deep into him.

Moments like these are hard to explain, he thinks. He’s only like this around you, so lost in his connection with you that he’s got nothing else on his mind. Anything and everything you say to him is tattooed in the darkest ink on his soul, until he’s covered in everything he wants to be for you.

“Promise me you’ll always look at me like that.” You break the silence, running your fingers through his hair and smiling.

“I promise.” He nods, barely realizing how he’s leaning forward.

Your eyes flutter shut as he inches closer. He kisses you softly, almost as if he fears he’ll break you. His fingers splay out across the small of your back and he traces shapes into the soft fabric of your dress. You’re overwhelming. His love for you is, too. So much so, he feels as if he’s going to burst out of his skin. He’s going to wake up and everything will have been a dream, because there’s no way he’d ever done anything in his life to deserve someone like you.

You hum into his mouth, rolling your hips once. His breathing stutters as his first instinct is to lift toward you. At first, he wants to stay like this, you clinging onto him like you’d be lost without him, but when you grind down a second time, he feels a twitch in his pants.

It’s been over a week since the last time he’s been inside you thanks to his schedules. And now you’re on top of him, wearing his favorite dress of yours, and kissing him like you’ll never be able to feel him again after tonight.

He’s tired, but he’s never too tired for you. Brushing your hair away, he leans down to kiss your neck, licking the expanse of your soft skin. Your pulse thunders beneath his tongue, and he has to fight the urge to bite down.

Touching you like this is different when he knows he’ll never lose you. You’re his forever.

His lips press against the sensitive spot below your ear, and the short moan escaping you just about sends him up the wall. When he pulls away to get a good look at you, your eyes are dark, lips already swollen from the way he kissed you.

He tries to catch his breath while he silently asks you if this is what you want. You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Standing, he lifts you up until your legs are secure around his waist, and he grabs your ass with one hand and the back of your head with the other.

Mouths attached, he doesn’t separate from you until he’s setting you down on his bed. He barely has time to appreciate the candles you lit in here, too, the soft scent of vanilla flooding his senses. You already try to push his T-shirt up, anything to feel his skin on yours. He obliges, pulling it over his head before returning to kissing you like his life depended on it. When your hands find the button on his jeans, he grabs your wrist.

“Patience, baby.” Chenle runs his fingers up and down your thigh. “We have the rest of our lives. Let me take my time with you tonight.”

Just like that, you’re putty in his hands. He smirks at the realization. Sneaking his touch up your leg, the hem of the dress moves to accommodate him. He stops when he feels the lace of your panties.

“Did you dress up for me twice, sunshine?” he hums.

“Always,” you say, shamelessly staring at his lips. “Do you love me, Chenle?”

His whole body vibrated from those words. They made him feel at a frequency he hadn’t quite reached yet, and all he wanted to do was rip that damn dress off.

“More than anything.”

He can’t really say it’s ‘like second nature’ anymore. There’s nothing second about it. This is you. Anything to do with you is first nature, no matter what it is. His world revolves around you, everything he does is based on what you want, and he wouldn’t change that in any way.

“Show me,” you whisper, so intoxicating he almost crumbles to his knees right in front of you.

How embarrassing that all it takes is two words to have him give in to you. He’s straining against his pants now, his cock aching to be free and buried inside you.

“Don’t worry. I will.” He kisses you again, soft and sweet like his hand isn’t so, so close to your dripping, eager core. Heat radiates from you, and all he wants is to be consumed by it.

He drags your panties down your legs, nails gently scratching your skin on the way down. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you try to regain your breath, but he loves the way you’re so desperate for him. The way you want him just as much as he wants you.

He doesn’t want to be patient anymore. Every cell in his body is urging him to connect with yours, but he wants to take care of you. That side of him always wins, otherwise both of you would probably be done already.

His finger dances along your entrance. He inhales sharply as your wetness coats his skin. You move your hips toward him, practically begging him for stimulation. He teasingly nudges your clit, pleasantly surprised by the way your body jolts.

Mouth brushing yours, he takes the second of distraction to slide two fingers inside you. As your lips part to release a moan, he mirrors the action, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly, slowly thrusts his hand.

Your walls squeeze so hard, he curses. He could fuck you a thousand times, and you’d still be as tight as you are right now. His heart goes straight into overdrive, but all the blood in his body is shooting down to his cock. He’s painfully hard, rocking back and forth gently.

He kisses you, lips working against yours in a perfect harmony. Your sounds are his favorite. He loves knowing it’s him making you feel this way, that he has the power to make your knees weak and your pussy throb.

He lets out a moan when he scissors his fingers, trying his best to prepare you. God, you’re so warm and wet and tight, he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to last long tonight. His pace quickens, sounds of your slickness filling the room.

You call out his name, back arching as you grasp desperately at his shoulders. He leans in and kisses your cheek, making sure to press his palm into your clit every time he’s knuckle deep. 

“You’re perfect, baby,” he whispers with his lips against your ear, voice rough. “I love you so much. So fucking much.”

You tense, pussy clamping down hard on his fingers as your hips buck. He swears he can see the pleasure running up your spine in the way you arch and shake. Your nails dig into his shoulders, but he’s not in the right mind to care. Your mouth opens, sounds pouring out as you finish. He loves you all the time, but one of his favorite looks on you is when he watches you orgasm—your face so overcome with pleasure he caused…he would never get enough of it.

He keeps moving until he’s sure you’ve come down from your high. When he brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices off, you watch longingly, the dark look in your gaze enough to have his cock twitching in his pants.

You slide off the bed, forcing him to take a couple steps back. He’s not sure what you’re going to do at first. Your struggle to reach your zipper, and as much as he wants to bend you over with the dress still on, he wants to be gentle with you tonight. He doesn’t get to make love to you often, and that’s all he’s going to do tonight.

Instead of watching you attempt to reach it, he turns you around and pulls you to him until your back is against his chest. His hand is splayed out across your stomach, holding you so you feel how hard he is.

“I’m going crazy,” you mutter, dropping your head back. “I need you so bad.”

He moves your hair out of his way, kissing the base of your neck quickly before he unzips you. Moving slowly on purpose, he lets his finger drag along your spine on the way down. You shiver, pushing yourself back into him.

“I’m gonna make love to you.” He finally lets himself bite down on your shoulder as he nudges the straps down. “For the rest of our lives. Nobody but me.”

“Nobody but you,” you respond, allowing the dress to pool at your feet.

He turns you around, hands immediately finding your ass and squeezing it. Within seconds, he has your bra unclasped and across the room. “So beautiful.”

When your hands find his jeans, he doesn’t stop you this time. You push them down his legs, desperate to have him inside you. Once his jeans are off, you palm him through his boxers, and he needs you so badly, that simple touch almost finishes him off. That would’ve been embarrassing.

He takes off the remaining fabric separating you two before leading you over to the bed. You lie in the middle, and he climbs on top of you. He kisses you passionately, tongue already dancing with yours, both of you more than ready. His cock is so hard, he’s only half convinced he won’t cum as soon as he’s in.

He nudges your clit with his leaking tip, moving down to your entrance to apply just enough pressure before pulling away. You whine, desperate for more.

“Chenle, please.”

His head dips down as he continues teasing you, wrapping his lips around your nipple. You whimper, running your fingers through his hair. Having you so desperate for him makes him want to give you everything you’re asking for, but something makes him wait.

“Please,” you cry out, lifting your hips up. “Need you.”

He’s ready to fall apart from you words alone. Pulling away from your chest, he reaches down to line himself up with you. He watches you closely as he pushes his throbbing cock into your quivering pussy. Your eyes roll back as you arch into him.

Your walls swallow him, velvet clamping down on him. He clenches his jaw as he bottoms out and fists the sheets next to your head.

“So perfect,” he whispers, kissing your jawline.

One of his favorite things about you is how unafraid you are to look at him. Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, and you try your best not to close them, but even like this, you never look away.

He’s fully inside you, his cock seated within your fluttering walls. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you, so he gently rocks his hips to help you adjust. He kisses you everywhere he can reach.

“You always take me so well,” he praises you, nipping the base of your neck.

He’ll never get over how perfectly he fits between your legs, like this space was made for him.

“Move,” you tell him, smacking his shoulder.

He lets out a soft chuckle, but lowers his mouth to yours as he starts a steady pace. You squeeze him so tight, it’s like your body doesn’t want to let him out of you. He pulls out until his tip is barely inside, and then pushes back in just as slowly. It wreaks havoc on your body, your wetness squelching every time he moves.

He wants you to feel all of him. Feel the entirety of his cock rubbing your walls with every thrust.

Somehow, it’s hotter this way. A thin sheen of sweat covers his skin as he takes his time with you. Sure, he gets sweaty when he fucks you, but nothing compares to the close intimacy of love making—his chest brushing against yours with every thrust, long, sweet moans filling the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“You sing so pretty,” Chenle mutters, tonguing the sensitive spot below your ear. “You like the way I feel?”

Before he can even process what you’re doing, you wrap your legs around his waist and roll until you’re on top of him. He’s flat on his back, eyes flitting along your body like he hasn’t had a real chance to see it yet.

Candle light illuminates your skin, and the sight makes his cock twitch. He runs his hands along your sides, squeezing your hips.

Chenle likes being in control. He likes guiding you in a way that has you both in shambles by the end, and he truly underestimated how beautiful you’d look on top of him. You lift up, teasing him as slow as he was moving with you, but between the sight and the feeling, he feels an all too-familiar tingling sensation at the base of his length.

It’s too soon for him, so he decides to tug you down, holding you there while his eyes close and his head thuds against the mattress. He doesn’t need to say a word to you.

“Chenle.” You stroke a hand down his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t need to hold back for me.”

“Just…need a second.” He gulps.

When he finally catches his breath, he sits up, chest pressing against yours.

“This was supposed to be about you,” he says, moving back slightly to fit his hand between the two of you. “Showing you my love and everything.”

He finds your clit with his thumb, staring at you intently as your wetness makes it easy for him to rub circles. His other hand still firmly grips your waist, which only allows you to squirm instead of bouncing on him like you crave to do.

“I need to move,” you whimper, grinding down. “Please.”

He nods, loosening his grip on you. You brace yourself on his shoulders, finally taking his cock the way you want it. His nails dig into your thigh while he continues his work on your bud, and it only spurs you on. You move faster, no doubt trying to chase your orgasm.

His moans get louder, matching yours. If his hands weren’t so occupied, he’d want to squeeze your ass or tweak your nipples. Anything to bring you higher. He changes the patterns his thumb rubs, and it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your body.

You curse, dropping your head on his shoulder as you nod. “Don’t stop, Lele.”

With both of you hanging so close to the edge, he waits until you’re sitting back down on his cock to buck his hips up. He doesn’t want to finish first, but he’s so close, all the warning signs of his impending high are getting far too real.

“Gonna cum,” he tells you, releasing your thigh to grab your ass.

Your walls clamp down on him hard, a long, pleasured sound escaping you as you grind down on him. Back arching, your head falls back. Your orgasm hits both you and Chenle like a freight train, and within seconds, everything inside him explodes, and he’s spilling his cum deep inside you while telling you over and over again that he loves you.

You crumple into his chest. He runs his fingers through your hair, whispering praises to you between head kisses.

“I’m gonna lay you down, sunshine,” he says.

You nod, and he turns you so he can put your back on the mattress. He carefully pulls out of you, putting his boxers back on before going into the bathroom to grab you a towel. This is one of his favorite ways to see you. Your eyes are closed, hands on your cheeks. You look like he’s fucked all the energy out of you, and he loves that he has the capability to do that.

He cleans you up, then grabs a clean pair of panties for you and one of his T-shirts.

“I have an idea,” he says.

“What is it?” You wrap your arms around him.

“You pick whatever movie you want, and I’ll go warm up your dinner?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

You fake a gasp. “Are you saying you’re going to feed me in bed?”

“After all of that, I’d agree to just about anything you want.” He chuckles when you shove his shoulder. Grabbing your hand, he twirls the band on your finger. “Wait here for me?”

When he walks out of the room, he stops at the doorway to watch you excitedly lunge for the remote. It doesn’t take long for him to warm up the food, turn off the lights, and blow out the candles in the kitchen.

The rest of the night is spent with the two of you sitting against the headboard, laughing along to your favorite movie while eating your favorite takeout. So many thoughts have come and gone from Chenle’s brain in the past couple days alone, but he’s more than happy he gets to sit here with you every night for the rest of his life.

He’s lost in your laugh and the way you smile at him and how you make his heart race with the simplest things. None of the other members knew about the ring he bought you, but he’ll tell them soon.

After the food is gone, Chenle cleans it up. There’s still half a movie left, so when he gets back, he pulls the comforter back so you can cuddle up to him for the remainder. Even though the candles have long since been put out, vanilla still clouds the air.

“Love you,” Chenle whispers, kissing your temple.

“Love you, too.” You sigh in content, resting your head on his chest.

He knows that means you’re only seconds from sleep, and he rubs your arm soothingly. The movie continues to play, but neither of you are paying attention anymore—you’re asleep, and Chenle’s thinking about what kind of wedding dress you’ll wear.

[littlebluentebook]

Alastor x Sewing!Reader pt.4

Chapter 5

You tried to stay open 7-7 on weekdays so that way customers could come in both before and after work. This is why you were not surprised to hear the door jingle at half past five.

"Just a moment please!" you said cheerfully, attempting to finish threading your needle in full focus. "How can I help you today?" only then noticing Alastor in front of you. He was sporting his new coat and a bouquet of flowers.

"I just wanted to come visit you and say thank you for fixing my coat darling," he reached out to give you the flowers, "you will have to teach me how to make your treats as well. They were quite delicious." Alastor ate a bunch between his broadcasts spoiling his lunch but saving a few for his mother.

You smiled at that, " I am quite glad you enjoyed them! I will however be keeping that recipe to myself- its for special occasions only."

"Well then, I feel mighty special to be gifted them" Alastor quipped back at you. "How much do I owe you for the coat?"

"Not a pretty penny of yours doll! It was a favor for walking me home and letting me borrow your coat" you explained to him.

"Only if you're sure Y/N. I have got to be getting back home now, can't keep my mother waiting." he turned to the door.

"Of course! Don't worry her. Feel free to come back if you need anything else Alastor!"

"I may take you up on that my dear." With that, he walked out the door. Nothing but the flowers to signify he was ever there.

The flowers Alasor gave you were absolutely stunning. There were dark orange flowers that looked like an attempt to match the replacement lining and thread in his coat. To compliment there were soft pink and white flowers sporadically place in the bouquet. You went upstairs to your kitchen and brought down a vase for the flowers. Wanting to show off their beauty, you placed them on the center table of your shop. Here, you regularly cycled items such as tops, socks, mittens, scarves and other small items. You went around the shop and into your storage to find other colors that matched the flowers. On the table the flowers stood tall above the garments, all table colors matching.

The week went by quickly, Alastor's voice and memories both accompanying you while you sewed. You created lots of lace for the dresses Mimzy ordered. Next week you were supposed to stop by and take all of her performers measurements to actually start putting pieces together. Countless hours were also spent pre-beading and cutting fabric so all that had to be done was cutting and sewing to match sizes.

By the time Friday rolled around you were excited to leave the shop and go to Mimzy's. The nervous feeling was no longer there. You had Anne, Mimzy, and now Alastor to keep you company while enjoying the night.

"Y/N dear! Alastor and I were just talking about you!" Mimzy said with enthusiasm.

"Good things I can only hope?"

"Of course! He was just showing me how you fixed his tacky coat. I have been telling for ages he just needs a new one. He has appearances to up keep! It looks better now than when he first bought it."

You didn't know what to do with all the praise but it warmed your hear to know that people recognized your talents and were impressed with them.

"I just did what I saw fit, I do appreciate it!"

"Good evening mon cheri" Alastor said kissing your hand.

You two changed pleasantries about your week as Mimzy went to mingle with more customers. As you finished your conversation about to ask where Mimzy went, Anne stepped on stage about to start singing.

"Would you grace me with a dance?" Alastor asked reaching his hand out towards you.

"Absolutely doll" you said gently placing your hand in his outstretched one. He helped you up and out of your seat where you were previously conversing. As Alastor led you to the dance floor a man bumped into you tearing your grasp from him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry sir, please ex-"

"I know what you did." He cut you off. "You will suffer just as he did."

You turned as white as a ghost. No no no you migrated to New Orleans to get away from your old life. How did anyone find you?

"My dear! Are you alright?" Alastor asked finding you and reaching for your hand.

"Of course, just had a little scare and lost my footing is all."

Alastor gave you an eyebrow raise but didn't pry anymore.

All things considered the dance was wonderful. You both moved in sync, eyes focused on one another. He loved to spin you around and away from him only to pull you back in close. As the song ended you found yourself in a dip, a mere breath away from Alastor.

Mimzy cleared her throat "Lovely performance from the both of you, incredibly charming."

Alastor used his hand on your lower back to pick you up and steady you on the floor. He noticed you were still shaky and looking around the room from your encounter with the strange man earlier.

"Thank you Mimzy" he answered for the both of you. "We should get heading out soon shouldn't we darling?"

The night was still young but what the man had said to you made you want to leave as soon as possible. Plus, remembering last weeks sleep hangover you agreed. Finishing goodbyes again and talking with Mimzy setting up a time for instead her performers to visit you at your shop, you and Alastor were arm in arm walking out of the door. You turned around and took one last look and there you saw the man drag his thumb across his throat. What you didn't notice was that Alastor saw the man doing the exact same thing.

[piillow]

can you write a skz comfort fic where the reader struggles with their university work pls and they comfort her?? xoxo

OMGGG yes comfort fics i love these also first request!!!!!! everybody cheer (queue awkward silence)

( •̀ ω •́ )✧

bsf!skz x gn!reader | cws : lots of implied sadness/stress/overworking, starving mentioned | wc : 2.5k | a/n : sorry some are shorter than others :(

chan -

- you'd been spending less time with him ever since it was midterms season. he understood you needed to study, but you seemed to be cooped up in your textbooks all too much.

- "y/n? don't you think it's time for a break?" he asked you. you just shrugged it off and replied with a quick "no."

- he sighed and let you do your own thing. he had plans to go to the library with some friends for an hour or two to study, so he hoped that you'd be done by the time he got back.

- but, lo and behold, you were still studying when he got back.

- "y/n! please... go to bed? i know we have midterms this week, but... sleep is still important, you know."

- "i know, chan. but i want to get as much done as i can, i've still got homework to finish."

- "here, we'll make a deal, yeah? you can study until midnight, but you'll only study until eight tomorrow night. your classes end at three, so five hours of studying."

- "what?! but.. chan! that's not enough!" you replied, slightly disappointed.

- "so, will you take the deal?"

- "fine..." you said while sighing.

- as the rest of the week went on, chan decided to invite you to his short library sessions with his friends, and even let you invite your friends along too.

- once midterms finally rolled around, he was always there for you.if it was comforting you with your late night study sessions, or even sending you a simple motivational text while you were taking your actual test. 

- it was the little things he did that made it better. so, maybe the deal wasn’t that bad after all.

minho -

- minho had been studying with you since lunchtime, and it was almost dinner time.

- "y/n-ah, time for a break. it's almost time for dinner, what do you want?"

- "i'm fine, min. i'll just make some instant ramen, don't worry about me."

- the surprised face he had made was.. interesting, to say the least. "y/n, eating is just as important as studying. it's on me, i promise. what do you want to eat?" he said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

- "are you sure? if you say so... i'll just eat what you're making, chef's choice." you said, giving him a smile.

- "ooh, okay! i promise you'll love it~"

- "wait.. not spicy food though!"

- "aww, fine..." he replied, pouting at you. “but still, why don’t you take a break? it’s been five hours, i’m sure your brain has gotten enough work done.” he says, standing up.

- “you’ll have to help me make dinner, it’s hard to make food with two hands, y’know?” he teased, but with full intent to get you to help him in the kitchen.

- “you- ugh, fine… i suppose i’ll help you.” you replied in your fake annoyance tone, to which minho had happily smiled at.

- as you walked into the kitchen to see many ingredients sprawled across the table, you were met with a very happy minho.

- which meant that you were in for a long cooking session. and possibly baking too..?

changbin -

- you’re both at the gym, sitting on a random bench while doing some sets of curls.

- then, from out of nowhere, you remember about a research paper that was due tomorrow. while you really wanted to tell changbin that you had to go and finish it, you didn’t want to finish your workout short today. 

- so, you didn’t. - it was currently 6:30am, and you had a bit over 30 hours to get it done. - but, it was a tuesday. you had classes, which meant more work, which meant you were definitely staying up tonight.

- just as you two were leaving the gym, you turned to him and asked “hey, you remembered the research paper for comp sci, right?” - “oh yeah, i finished it like, two days ago. it’s due tomorrow.” … right. of course he knew. he’s always on top of everything. - “yeah, i know that, just gotta make sure y’know? i mean, i cou-” - “could just check the syllabus.” he interrupted. “y/n, you didn’t even start it, did you?” he said in a flat tone. it’s almost like he could read through you. “y/n, c’mon. you really gotta start getting on top of your work…” - “i know bin, but.. i’m just so tired from everything. all these professors i have to email, all these papers i need to write, all the equations i have to solve. it’s getting overwhelming and i don’t know what to do. i know i have to work, but i just get stressed at the thought of it.” you admitted. it was getting too hard, too quick. but you couldn’t make it stop.

- as you two got into the car, he turned his keys and started pulling out of the parking lot. but, he wasn’t going to the dorms. he turned in a different direction.

- “bin, where are you going? this isn’t the way to the dorms, let alone campus in general.”

- “let me do my thing, y/n. you just have to sit here and relax, don’t worry about a thing. i promise.” he said.

- while you decide to get some shut eye while he drives, you suddenly wake up in the parking lot of your favorite cafe outside of campus. you always complained about how the ones on campus were always so crowded, and of course changbin took note of it.

- as he woke you up to your surprised face, he said “we’ll be staying here today. you have your laptop, don’t you?”

hyunjin -

- as you two sat in your non air-conditioned and sweaty dorm room, hyunjin was starting to get bored of trying to take a nap. so, he decided to take out his sketchbook, and draw you at your desk.

- he’d been listening to you type away at your laptop for what seemed like three hours, possibly more. you were in the same position when he went to bed, and still being in that position started to worry him. - “hey, y/n? you good over there? you’ve been working for like, 10 hours straight.” he said, walking over to where you were.

- “just working. i have to get this paper done for tonight, i have no time to waste.” you reply, not bothering to look at him while you shuffle through your tabs of resources and documents.

- “and… how much else do you have to finish?” he asks while adding some more hatching to his current sketch.

- “... three lectures i have to take notes on for quizzes next week.” you blurt out.

- “that’s next week. it’s only sunday, this week just started. why don’t you take a break after you finish? that’s your conclusion paragraph, no?” he asks again, leaning a bit closer to you so he can see your screen.

- “yeah, this is my conclusion. but i’d rather get it done earlier than i need to.” you reply while you proofread your paper once again. 

- once you let out a groan while you fix one of your mistakes, hyunjin pipes up. “here, give me your laptop, i’ll proofread it for you. it’ll be easier, since i haven’t read it before.”

- as you hand him your laptop, you take a peek at his sketchbook and the sketch of you. as he glances over the top of the laptop, he slides it a bit closer to you so you can see it better.

- while you admired the sketch of you, and while he proofread your paper, the silence in the room was nice. it wasn’t too awkward, not too tense, just… right.

- “it’s really good. i fixed what i had to, by the way.” he said, placing your laptop back on your desk.

- “you didn’t fix anything, though.” you say, confused.

- “yeah, because there was nothing to fix.” he replies.

- “oh- OHHH.” you say, facepalming yourself while hyunjin just laughs. “hey! don’t laugh at me like that. not my fault i’m a bit slow…” you say, crossing your arms.

- seeing your slight disappointment, his laughs come to a stop. “okay, okay, fine. but still, seriously, it was fine. and here, your gift.” he says while ripping out the page and handing it to you.

- “thanks. i guess i owe you, don’t i?” you ask as you took the paper.

- “cafe day?”

- “cafe day.”

jisung -

- you and jisung had clicked ever since you two became roommates at the start of the semester. just two new freshmen who were just trying to survive their first semester at college.

- so, while he was out at his night classes, you were working at the dorm. and almost every time he got back, he’d see you fast asleep in your bed.

- since you two couldn’t really talk to each other much, you decided to start writing sticky notes for him to read in the morning. they were always short messages, mostly consisting of anything similar to “i hope you’re doing well in your classes :)” or “hope you slept well.”

- so, when he entered your dorm room at 1am, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to be awake.

- “y/n? well, i wasn’t expecting to come back to this. what’s up? how are you doing?” he asks, not hiding his surprise.

- “oh, hi. i’m working. you?” you rushed out of your mouth. you felt like you were running on 100k/mph, and nothing could slow you down. there was no time for distractions, you just had to finish this assignment.

- han, sensing something is up, says “quickly cramming something? i can help you if you want. or, well, try my best, at least.”

- after hearing the word “help,” you jolt you head to the side to look at him. “really? you’ll help me? Seriously? oh my goodness, you’re a lifesaver! i can’t proofread for the life of me!” 

- as he sees relief wash over your face, he can’t help but smile. “yeah, i could! after this, you just have to turn it in, yeah?” he asks as you hand your mac over to him and nod.

- while he proofreads your work, you end up rambling to him about how you just hope that your professor doesn’t fail you. even though he wasn’t fully focused on you, he was just happy he could help you in any way.

- as he watched you turn in your assignment, he gave you a high five. “nice! now you can finally sleep, so i guess it’s my turn to start working now. good night y/n, sleep well.”

felix -

- whenever felix had arrived from his culinary classes, he almost always had some food with him, and he was always willing to share with you.

- today, he brought back an assortment of fried goods, which you could smell the second he opened the door.

- “ah, hi y/n. sorry about the smell..” he says as he takes his shoes off.

- you turned your chair to him, hoping that you’d be able to see what was in his bag. “it’s fine, at least it’s good food and not b/o.” you joked, which made both of you laugh.

- “still,” you continued, “what’d you bring? Chicken?”

- “spot on. and they let us experiment with random foods, so i tried frying some tteokbokki.” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. “definitely don’t recommend. i almost burnt myself from the oil like, twenty times.” he continued, sighing.

- “sounds pretty stressful, but i assume that that’s an understatement?” you ask, to which he nods almost right away. “i see.. well, if it makes you feel better, i’ve been working on these stupid geometry problems for like, two hours straight. i really need a break.” you admit, rubbing your temples.

- “well, why don’t we dig in? it’s still warm, and you can rant to me about whatever you want. sounds like a pretty even trade deal, hm?”

- and that ended up leading to a long dinner, with you two eating almost everything he had brought back. but, he would gladly do it again if it meant you’d be able to let go of some stress just for a little while.

seungmin -

- you two decided that today would be a good day to sit outside and get some work done, until it started to rain, and your laptop started to get water in it.

- once you got inside, you two checked the condition of your laptop, and after realizing it wasn’t turning on, this made you two bummed out.

- but you weren’t just bummed out. you had been working on a lab assignment due at 11:59 tonight, and it was 5pm. 

- after smashing the power button a few more times, you groaned. “great. i guess i’m going to fail this assignment that’s worth the same as a quiz. how beautiful.” you said sarcastically, shutting your laptop shut.

- “you wanna use mine? it’s back at the room, and besides, we got enough time outside today. i guess the rain was just a sign to tell us to come in.” he replied, hoping to lighten the mood.

- you raised a surprised eyebrow at him, “really?” you asked. “really.” he replied. “well, i will gladly take your offer. i’ll take anything i can to get this done. thank you so much.”

- as you worked, he happily accompanied you, even singing you a few songs, and being happily surprised when he heard you singing or humming along.

jeongin -

- you both sat at a table at the library, just studying in between your classes until your friend called you.

- “y/n! there’s gonna be a party at f/n’s house, you wanna go?” they ask.

- “oh, i would love to, but i’m too busy.. i’m sorry. tell me how it goes though! i hope you have fun.” you say, before hanging up the phone and sighing.

- jeongin looks over at you as you sigh, looking slightly concerned. “you okay? i know what it’s like to miss out on parties too. i’ve had to miss a lot, but i get over the fomo pretty quickly. i can stay with you tonight, if you’d like.” he offers. 

- you glance over at him, confusion written all over your face. “how’d you know- never mind. you’d stay with me? really? but i don’t want to be the reason you don’t go, then i’ll feel guilty too.” you say. - “no, really, it’s fine, y/n. if i’m being honest, i have lots of work to get done too, so it’s okay.” he reassures you as he pulls out his phone. “oh, it’s almost time for my class. i’ll see you later though. bye for now, y/n!”

- while he waved to you as he walked out of the library, you couldn’t help but think about his nice gesture to stay with you later. sure, there was a possibility he could be lying, but it was nice of him to do what he did.

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova's Notes - North and South - Chapter 3

Last time we saw our heroine Margaret, she had just received word that Henry Lennox had come to call on her. Let's see how it goes!

So, she is excited to see Henry, as she has just been thinking about him and his promise. Margaret is a little surprised though, since he's supposed to be off with Edith and his brother on their honeymoon.

*record scratch* Hold up, he was accompanying them on their honeymoon??? I know right! And not just him, but his uncle as well? What kind of monster is he?

Well, five seconds ago, I would've agreed with you, but I was able to find this article that points to this being a fairly common practice in order to ease the woman into the marriage (not exactly an academic source, but the first one I found). So, he's not intruding or third-wheeling, but instead helping grow the marriage. What a nice guy, right? Well...avid readers of this will know I'm not Henry's biggest fan, and in the first few sentences he -- again -- says something that raises my hackles a bit.

“'Oh!' said he, more lightly, 'our young couple were playing such foolish pranks, running all sorts of risks, climbing this mountain, sailing on that lake, that I really thought they needed a Mentor to take care of them. And indeed they did: they were quite beyond my uncle’s management, and kept the old gentleman in a panic for sixteen hours out of the twenty-four. Indeed, when I once saw how unfit they were to be trusted alone, I thought it my duty not to leave them till I had seen them safely embarked at Plymouth.'”

Oh no, our couple has done the horrible problem of -- *checks notes* -- having fun on their honeymoon...? If their version of a "prank" is ditching their relatives to get some alone time -- uh, yeah, I would too!!! I mean, I guess I can see where he's coming from on some of these points if they truly are taking dangerous risks, but it honestly sounds like they're trying to sneak in some alone time here and doing fun couple activities together. It's not good that the uncle is panicking, but his brother is in the army. Surely he's prepared for things like mountain climbing and saying they're "unfit to be alone" is quite ridiculous. If he's worried about them doing...other kinds of activities while alone...I hate to tell him, but they're already married so that ship has sailed (literally). If he's truly worried about "danger," how is he -- a lawyer -- more prepared to face it than his brother who's in the army? (Not that lawyers can't face danger, considering Jonathan from Dracula is a lawyer and he just climbed a castle wall not too long ago, but that's a different book/genre lol). Also presenting himself as a "Mentor" (capital M) is HILARIOUS to me considering a) he's younger than at least one of them and b) mentor to what? Being married??? Henry???? He probably means climbing or sailing, but my version is funnier -- just saying.

I guess he might also be kidding about some of this, which is something I should have considered but didn't because I don't pick up well on social cues (I'm like Margaret in that way: we'll get there :D). So if he is kidding, sorry about that, but if I'm to take what he's saying at face value here, he just sounds like a nuisance to the couple. He says he's now "relieved of many responsibilities" but it just sounds like he put those responsibilities on himself.

He then gives her a note from Edith and she doesn't want to read it in front of him because she "half wish[ed] to read it alone and unwatched". I find this interesting that she has to make up an excuse to get away from him here, just to do so! Is it because Margaret doesn't feel comfortable reading letters in front of people in general, or because Henry specifically causes the discomfort? Gaskell doesn't elaborate, but I'll keep an eye out for if she feels comfortable enough to read a letter in front of anyone else in a future chapter, because either could be valid.

Henry begins to look around the room in "his scrutinizing way" and notices how "poor" the place looks, even when the light is hitting it, which should make it looks its best. Then he says this (with a sigh):

"'The living is evidently as small as she said. It seems strange, for the Beresfords belong to a good family.'”

Oh, no! You've just activated a red flag!!! This whole reply is a red flag, but I want to highlight the main problem area (in my opinion) -- the "as she said". What's the problem with this?

To me, this indicates he didn't listen to her when she told him how small her living was the first time around. He assumed she was downplaying it and would come back to find something more like Harley Street. I suppose that was the fashion back then -- to act of more humble means than you were -- but here's the thing: Margaret isn't like that. She says thing as they are and if he knew her as well as he thinks, he would've taken her words at face value. I know that just from three chapters of reading about her!! If he doesn't believe this one thing she says now, how is that going to work later if they foster a relationship (again, we're getting there)? I also just don't like that Henry is pulling a surprised Pikachu face here!!! And while I know good family = wealthy in this time period, still not a great thing to say. Like, hmm her family is poor that's weird :/. He's acting like he didn't get what he wanted for Christmas or something. Definitely not the reaction I would want from a potential partner.

Margaret, meanwhile, is dealing with a problemTM. Namely, her mother. Apparently she gets into moods where everything is an Issue and Henry is considered an Issue -- so, she refuses to see him. This is a dilemma, because Margaret had told Henry that her mamma would LOVE to meet him and will meet with him shortly. I may not know much about etiquette, but I know this is a snub if she refuses to meet with him now. Plus, her dad can't help because he was already in a bad mood (seems like something we'll unravel later) and Mrs. Hale made it worse by commenting *once again* on moving, which caused him to ask her to please stop speaking against the place. So yeah, this isn't going well!

Margaret "listen[s] patiently", but she has to figure things out somehow, so she pulls a problem-solving move. She proposes that after a quick meetup with Henry and her mom (as for it not to look weird), she and Henry can go out sketching, which will mean less interaction for her mother to worry about. Then, even though they only have cold meat for lunch, they can still make that work for the meal, since light food was usually expected at the midday meal (from what I could find -- correct me if I'm wrong) and Henry will expect it that way. That's when Mr. Hale will join them, having had enough time between 10:30 and 2:00 to compose himself.

I love seeing this side of her! We've already seen glimpses, but I think it's the first time we've truly seen her go into what I would call a "problem-solving mode". I would definitely add that to her list of qualities!

"He evidently expected to be asked to spend the day, and accepted the invitation with a glad readiness that made Mrs. Hale wish she could add something to the cold beef. He was pleased with everything; delighted with Margaret’s idea of going out sketching together; would not have Mr. Hale disturbed for the world, with the prospect of so soon meeting him at dinner."

I wonder if it's apparent to everyone involved Henry wants to be asked to stay the whole day, or if it's just Mrs. Hale? It makes sense that he wants to since he said he would be checking up on what Margaret does all day. I don't know much about calling hours or social etiquette in the Victorian era, but from what I could find, he's making a "morning call". Usually a man in this situation should leave after 20 minutes. However, he's family, so I believe this allots for staying a few hours, including dinner (again, correct me if I'm wrong -- I tried to find sources for this, but there wasn't much available for a morning call from family). Does it seem interesting how eager it is how "pleased" he is by everything just after he thought about how poor the family is? Yep! But we don't have time to unpack all of that just yet.

"'Now, please, just stop here for a minute or two,' said Margaret. 'These are the cottages that haunted me so during the rainy fortnight, reproaching me for not having sketched them.' 'Before they tumbled down and were no more seen. Truly, if they are to be sketched—and they are very picturesque—we had better not put it off till next year. But where shall we sit?' 'Oh! You might have come straight from chambers in the Temple, instead of having been two months in the Highlands! Look at this beautiful trunk of a tree, which the woodcutters have left just in the right place for the light. I will put my plaid over it, and it will be a regular forest throne.' 'With your feet in that puddle for a regal footstool! Stay, I will move, and then you can come nearer this way. Who lives in these cottages?'”

I feel like this conversation parallels their awkward interaction from chapter one, though now the shoe is on the other foot. And by "shoe", I mean the whole "shutting down the conversation" thing. To be fair, this is probably Henry joking and being lighthearted, but again -- I'm having trouble reading it that way. She's trying to sketch two cottages that she thinks are pretty, but he's kind of mocking them for how decrepit they look. Fair, I guess, but the fact that she chooses to mock him by saying he's "come staight from chambers in the Temple" (which I believe is a reference to the Temple in Jerusalem and to me, signals she's mocking his loftiness) says she's not entirely happy with this either. Plus, yeah, he just spent time in the Highlands, shouldn't he be used to forest by now? And when she wants to make a "throne" out of a tree stump, he comments on the puddle on the ground. Chivalrous to ask her to get out of the way, but he's not playing along with her game of pretend like he seemed to want her to in chapter 1. I wonder what's up with that? Or maybe I'm reading this all wrong and they're both enjoying this banter -- I don't know, it's really hard for me to tell!! Keep in mind, I'm biased and don't really like Henry, so everything he says annoys me. It's a problem I'll try to work on 😂😂

She goes to talk to one of the men at the cottages, and Henry quickly takes his opportunity to add her to his sketch. Afterwards, she notices and comments on it. He replies:

“'It was irresistible. You can’t know how strong a temptation it was. I hardly dare tell you how much I shall like this sketch.' He was not quite sure whether she heard this latter sentence before she went to the brook to wash her palette. She came back rather flushed, but looking perfectly innocent and unconscious. He was glad of it, for the speech had slipped from him unawares—a rare thing in the case of a man who premeditated his actions so much as Henry Lennox."

I will admit, this is rather cute: him taking the opportunity to sketch her and then saying something without thought! It's a sweet moment and I think I would like the two of them together if they had more moments like this.

When they return back, both Mr. and Mrs. Hale are in much better spirits. Margaret sees her father and while she stresses that he's put aside his worries (they're not taken care of), she can't hide her pride at seeing him because he's always able to impress other people! What a sweetheart, love her for that.

Mr. Hale sees their sketches and when Mr. Hale sees the one Henry drew, Henry comments this:

“'I should say that a likeness you very much wish to take you would always succeed in,' said Mr. Lennox. 'I have great faith in the power of will. I think myself I have succeeded pretty well in yours.'”

I may not read social cues well, but this one I do get: I like you and want to draw you well. However, I know that because I've picked up on it after seeing Henry's inner thoughts. I'm not so surprised she doesn't get it because, as we'll see later in the chapter, she doesn't see him that way. So this compliment -- while nice -- wouldn't mean to her what he's trying to communicate. Why is this important for me to emphasize? Well, listen to what this guy says next:

“"A regular London girl would understand the implied meaning of that speech,' thought Mr. Lennox. 'She would be up to looking through every speech that a young man made her for the arrière-pensée of a compliment. But I don’t believe Margaret,'"

Lol, lmao even. HENRY, buddy, we've been over this -- you should know her better than this by now. I'm not trying to pull a "she's not like other girls" thing, but you started it. She doesn't have the same communication style as the "regular London girl[s]" you're thinking of! If you want to communicate something, you're going to have to be more blunt.

Also, if we continue with my thread of Margaret being neurodivergent-coded (and Henry being neurotypical-coded), this comment is something a lot of NTs often get frustrated by: that NDs don't pick up on the nuances of their interactions. This comment right here really cements this dynamic for me.

To me, it’s understandable she wouldn't pick up on this being flirting because it's subtle to begin with and ND people often have trouble picking up on social cues like this. I do find it interesting how he also expects her to be picking apart his speeches for compliments. Also "arrière-pensée" means "a concealed thought" or "ulterior motive", by the way!

Quick note: the quote is cut off deliberately like that for a reason, he doesn't finish his thought.

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your view), he decides to try a different tactic. She has been gathering roses to "adorn her morning gown for dinner" and he takes this opportunity to help her with some she can't reach (relatable!) and puts a couple in his button-hole. While this isn't exactly a declaration of love, I do think this is another sweet moment. This could almost be a better show of affection than words for some.

Dinner is a very nice affair, with everyone talking very agreeably, enough so to make Henry forget his feeling of "disappointment" of Margaret's living being so small. Like she had told him. Ugh.

However, there comes a bit of a hitch when dessert comes around. Mr. Hale becomes fixated on the idea of dessert -- which must be pears from the garden. However, they already have dessert served behind him: biscuits with marmalade. Mrs. Hale worries that this pear idea will make their life seem "impromptu" and dessert "unusual" (which will not shine a good light on their living situation, I imagine).

Henry actually steps up with a solution this time: they should eat pears in the garden in order to give them the full experience. Though Mrs. Hale doesn't quite like this idea (she wants to end dinner the ceremonious way), Mr. Hale doesn't give her time to argue: he simply gets up. This shows me that Mr. Hale is probably still not in the best of moods, and likely put out with her as well for what she said in the morning. Either that, or he's so absorbed by his own worries that he isn't thinking of hers. Eep, not good.

So Mr. Hale, Henry and Margaret go out into the garden to enjoy some pears. While Mr. Hale grabs the ripest pear (to get over his anxieties -- relatable), Henry makes eyes at Margaret 👁️👁️. He then takes her to stroll while Mr. Hale sits on the garden bench. Oh no! What can this mean? Well, for Margaret, she just thinks this is a friendly chat. Hmm....

He immediately starts by idealizing her country life and scorning his "city life" (comparing himself to a Cockney), ending with insinuating he would want to live here as his "reward" for all of his hard lawyer work.

She replies by shutting down the fantasy (lol), that the beauty he sees isn't always there and besides, didn't he mock her village before and call it out of a tale? Once she makes it clear she saw it as disrespectful, he "warmly" states he'll never do it again.

I do like that she's comfortable enough with him to feel able to tell him she felt disrespected by his words: that's a good sign, at least. And while he doesn't exactly apologize, he does back down once he realizes this was genuinely negative to her. Gotta take our wins where we can!

""I could almost wish, Margaret——' he stopped and hesitated. It was so unusual for the fluent lawyer to hesitate that Margaret looked up at him, in a little state of questioning wonder; but in an instant—from what about him she could not tell—she wished herself back with her mother—her father—anywhere away from him, for she was sure he was going to say something to which she should not know what to reply. In another moment the strong pride that was in her came to conquer her sudden agitation, which she hoped he had not perceived. Of course she could answer, and answer the right thing; and it was poor and despicable of her to shrink from hearing any speech, as if she had not power to put an end to it with her high maidenly dignity."

I love this passage for so many reasons. For one thing, it has that relatable feeling one gets when you have that one guy friend who hits you with the "I have to tell you something..." and even when you don't know what they're going to say, you also know what's happening...

But I love that she has that scared moment and then she's like -- wait a minute? This is me -- Margaret Hale -- we're talking about and I will say what I want and it will be right because I make it so. I will not shrink from any speech coming my way and if I have to, will put an end to it with my high 👏 maidenly 👏 dignity 👏 . What an ABSOLUTE QUEEN FOR THAT!!!!! I aspire to be like her; why wasn't I told what an absolute girl boss of a role model this fictional character was? And I don't just mean like before I read this (I was given some notice), I mean like why isn't she given more love in pop culture just for this passage alone? (I could speculate why, but I don't want to get sad about that lol). If I didn't already love her, this right here would've made me love her. This passage is definitely something I will be remembering when I feel anxious about difficult conversations! Just, WOW, chef's kiss.

Forgive me, it's going to be a lot of passages from here on out, but I really want to analyze the exact wording here.

"'Margaret,' said he, taking her by surprise, and getting sudden possession of her hand, so that she was forced to stand still and listen, despising herself for the fluttering at her heart all the time; 'Margaret, I wish you did not like Helstone so much—did not seem so perfectly calm and happy here. I have been hoping for these three months past to find you regretting London—and London friends, a little—enough to make you listen more kindly' (for she was quietly, but firmly, striving to extricate her hand from his grasp) 'to one who has not much to offer, it is true—nothing but prospects in the future—but who does love you, Margaret, almost in spite of himself. Margaret, have I startled you too much? Speak!' For he saw her lips quivering almost as if she were going to cry."

Okaaaaaay, that escalated VERY quickly -- Margaret didn't even get time to put a stop to it!!! I can't blame her, he's not giving her the chance to speak. So, the fact that he grabs her hand so she's "forced to stand still and listen"? Yikes. Her heart is "fluttering" and she hates herself for it? Also yikes because I doubt it's fluttering from liking him. I could be wrong, but I'm like 99.9% sure her heart is like that out of nerves.

Not to mention his speech: Henry starts off by being upset she likes Helstone and seems happy there -- you know, the place where her parents are??? Her hometown???? The place he just yapped on and on about being the best place ever and seemed like a reward to him? What happened to that? Swift 180 turn to me. Oh, and let's not forget he doesn't like seeing her calm and happy -- uhhhh...ok?

Now I know what he's trying to say here: he doesn't like seeing her happy here in Helstone because he wants her to be so miserable that she'll want to come back to London (and be with him). If she's miserable, it'll show she cares for him. Here's the problems I have with that logic:

Who's to say she doesn't miss her friends and she's just hiding it? Some people are better at hiding their grief than others.

Margaret is a very "live in the present" type of person; it's not that she doesn't miss Harley Street, but tends to just kind of live in the moment. Him not realizing that -- or wanting her to be miserable despite knowing that -- shows that he probably doesn't know her or care for her as much as he says he does a couple of sentences later.

She hasn't lived with her parents for years and spent most of her childhood without them being a large part of her life (I'm assuming from the limited text we have). Why doesn't she have the right to be calm and happy while living with them? It's pretty understandable she would be more happy with them because if anything *they're* the ones she was probably "more miserable" without. I'm sure she was fine at Harley Street, but she really seems to love her parents and her first night at Harley Street as a child seemed difficult: I'm not surprised she's happy at Helstone! This guy has some audacity to be like "aren't you miserable without me though 🥺" when like -- SHE'S VISITING HER PARENTS???!!?!?! It's been three months, calm down dude.

Let's imagine a world where Henry's completely right (a world I'm glad we don't live in, personally) and she's totally miserable because -- oh, Henry's not at Helstone 🥺💔. Even so, when you visit your friends/crush/whatever that you've missed and you haven't seen for a while, do you act miserable and talk constantly about how much you miss them? I mean, I don't! I usually try to keep up appearances if I am sad, but I actually almost always brighten up around the person I'm with because they make my day better. I get excited and in my element; to the outside person, you'd never know I'd be totally upset when they left because that's how happy I am! Of course, I'd say I miss them or whatever, but I wouldn't make a scene like he seems to want her to.

Going off of that, if you truly cared for someone, wouldn't you want them to be happy? Like he tells her he loves her but starts off his whole speech before he gets to that point with "I wish you were less happy and more miserable because that means you'd miss me and give me a chance" and that's...I don't even know what to say to that. I didn't think you could get worse than Mr. Collins or Mr. Darcy's failed proposals, but I think that beats it. In Mr. Collins's case, at least he starts off with compliments (though they're backhanded and he doesn't really mean them, lol) and at least with Mr. Darcy, he starts off with "I love you" and lists the reasons before he starts insulting her family!!! I guess it's a "pick your poison" thing, but seriously, what a way to start off a love confession speech/proposal.

Then -- and this is what really gets me here -- he notices her trying to get him to release her arm: another sign she's not enjoying this. Now, she's doing this in a quiet but firm way, not wanting to make a scene -- but not backing down, either. Instead of doing the decent person thing and letting her hand go, he keeps his grip and tells her to listen more "kindly". He takes this as yet another sign she didn't "miss him enough" and WOW. Um...I don't have much to say to this; I think it speaks for itself. I will say, everytime I read it I'm filled with an immeasurable amount of rage, if that tells you anything.

He also ends his very touching and heartfelt speech (/s) with saying that he loves her "almost in spite of himself". Aaaaand we're back to Mr. Darcy with his whole "yeah your family is below me and an insult to the human race and I actually wish I could stop thinking about you but in spite of all of that I love you whoops". I think he means this in more of a "I'm not a feelings person, so for me to be in love with you is a big deal" (we'll get to that speech of his soon), but it still comes across wrong to me. If you're going to say that, please clarify what you mean!!!

And THEN -- as if that's not bad enough -- he sees her lips quivering as if she's going to cry and after asking if she's startled (not the emotion I'd be asking after, but ok), he commands her to speak. As someone who gets overwhelmed easily, I would actually hate someone doing that to me!

And if we continue the thread of Margaret being ND, what if she's not able to speak because she's too overstimulated from whatever the heck that just was? I know she just hyped herself up -- and that's amazing, don't get me wrong -- but it could very well be difficult for her to communicate using spoken language and the fact that he wants her to speak right now is a bit reminiscent of how NTs will often force NDs to "act neurotypical" in difficult situations (e.g. "make eye contact, speak on this" etc.) and it's heartbreaking to read using this lens.

Even if we don't read it in that vein, who sees someone about to cry and goes "Speak!"? Get a grip, man.

"She made a strong effort to be calm; she would not speak till she had succeeded in mastering her voice, and then she said: 'I was startled. I did not know that you cared for me in that way. I have always thought of you as a friend; and, please, I would rather go on thinking of you so. I don’t like to be spoken to as you have been doing. I cannot answer you as you want me to do, and yet I should feel so sorry if I vexed you.'”

I feel for her here: I’m glad she takes a moment to be calm, but I imagine it must cost a lot of emotional effort to do so. If I were in her shoes, I don’t even know if I could manage it!

Also, her speech itself is a masteclass in kind — but firm — rejection, in my opinion. Notice how she answers his last question first: that yes, she was startled. That is easiest to answer, so she focuses on it. Then, she expounds on it by letting him know she wasn’t aware of his deep feelings, which caused her to be startled.

That’s when the boundary-setting starts! She sets two of them: in order to “keep thinking of him as a friend”, he will need to discontinue his advances and then she states she doesn’t like the way he has been speaking to her — aka, all of the ways he just offended her in that last paragraph? Stop it immediately.

She ends it by affirming that she cannot give him the answers he desires, but does not want to “vex” him. Just to be sure I was reading her meaning correctly, I looked up the meaning of vexed:

“to bring trouble, distress, or agitation to”

So, she’s worried about troubling him. Yes, distress is in there too, but I think it’s interesting she uses that word to describe how he will take her not returning his feelings. Historically, women do have to worry about how men will react to them not returning feelings -- sometimes to an extreme degree -- and it can feel as if it’s more of a case of them being troubled/agitated rather than distressed. I can’t speak for everyone of course, but it sucks that women have to feel so responsible for men’s happiness to the point of saying “sorry for the trouble” if the feelings aren’t returned! (And yes, I know this issue can happen regardless of gender, but I’m focusing on this dynamic since that’s how it appears here.)

So, how does Henry react? Does he reassure her that he isn’t entitled to her feelings? Asks for space to deal with his own emotions, perhaps? Nope!

“‘Margaret,’ said he, looking into her eyes, which met his with their open, straight look, expressive of the utmost good faith and reluctance to give pain, ‘Do you’—he was going to say—‘love any one else?’ But it seemed as if this question would be an insult to the pure serenity of those eyes. ‘Forgive me! I have been too abrupt. I am punished. Only let me hope. Give me the poor comfort of telling me you have never seen any one whom you could——‘ Again a pause. He could not end his sentence. Margaret reproached herself acutely as the cause of his distress.’”

It’s interesting to me that Henry decides not to ask if she loves anyone else because he doesn’t want to insult “pure serenity” of her eyes. Some may call this nice, I call this asking for a punch in the face. It rides a bit too close to the “purity culture” line for me and I don’t like it. It seems as if Henry thinks she has too much good faith to ever be “unfaithful” to him by even entertaining the thought of someone else. Perhaps I’m wrong, but this is how it reads to me.

Then he asks for forgiveness and says he’s been too abrupt (ok, good start) but says he’s punished. Punished how? Punished for what? If you mean she’s punishing you for speaking to her a certain way by not returning feelings — just NO. That’s not what’s happening here!!!! She doesn’t return your feelings because she doesn’t like you, just accept it.

That’s when Henry really drops the hammer of “can you give me hope and return my feelings one day 🥺” which — oh, boy. On one hand, I can feel for him here, but it’s strange to me that he also wants her to promise that she’s never seen anyone that has caught her fancy. It’s a very “if I can’t have you, no one can” mentality. It even causes Margaret to get mad at herself for “causing” him to be so upset — which, again, he is not entitled to her feelings and she is not responsible for his happiness.

“‘Ah! if you had but never got this fancy into your head! It was such a pleasure to think of you as a friend.’

‘But I may hope, may I not, Margaret, that some time you will think of me as a lover? Not yet, I see—there is no hurry—but some time——‘

She was silent for a minute or two, trying to discover the truth as it was in her own heart, before replying, then she said:

‘I have never thought of—you, but as a friend. I like to think of you so; but I am sure I could never think of you as anything else. Pray let us both forget that all this” (“disagreeable,” she was going to say, but stopped short) ‘conversation has taken place.’”

Ok, so I’m going to take Henry’s side for just a second on this — hear me out. I think it’s a little mean for her to call his feelings just a “fancy” as if he thought of it one day and, on a lark, decided to confess his feelings. I don’t think that’s fair of her to say to him. You can’t help your feelings and it’s not entirely fair of her to expect him to keep it bottled up inside. While his confession speech has been pretty abysmal (sorry it’s true), I don’t blame him for having those feelings, just the way they’re expressed.

On the other hand, I’ve been in Margaret's exact same situation and have almost wanted to say the exact same thing! Like “we had such a good thing going and this came out of nowhere; what’s up with that?” I didn’t though, because I realize that’s kind of invalidating to hear. I also think that’s her being blunt and not filtering her thoughts, which is understandable given the heightened emotions (and even more so, if we read it in the lens of her being ND).

Henry insists on the point of her being able to love him romantically sometime in the future, to which she has to think about. I’m glad she actually takes the time to examine her own feelings before answering. She already knows the answer, but it’s good to be sure and honestly give it some thought.

That’s when she drops a hammer of her own: she has only thought of him as a friend, does so now, and is certain she can only do so in the future. She also wants to set this conversation behind them — almost calling it disagreeable in the process. She stops herself short, but I believe she makes a face or something in her demeanor registers it as such, because Henry picks up on it. Again, she’s being blunt, but this time she’s able to catch herself and spare his feelings a little.

“He paused before he replied. Then, in his habitual coldness of tone, he answered:

‘Of course, as your feelings are so decided, and as this conversation has been so evidently unpleasant to you, it had better not be remembered. That is all very fine in theory, that plan of forgetting whatever is painful, but it will be somewhat difficult for me, at least, to carry it into execution.’”

It’s telling that he becomes cold once he realizes she’s serious about staying friends forever. It’s sad that this 180 degree turn from Henry is still so relatable in today’s age! He does agree to her wishes, albeit reluctantly due to it being difficult for him. This I can understand; once you confess your feelings for someone and are subsequently rejected, it's a bit hard to just "forget" the entire conversation and go back to normal. Unfortunately, that's the consequence you have to face if you're going to confess to your friend like that; I think he was just so confident she'd return his feelings, he assumed this wouldn't happen.

“'You are vexed,' said she, sadly; “yet how can I help it?' She looked so truly grieved as she said this, that he struggled for a moment with his real disappointment, and then answered more cheerfully, but still with a little hardness in his tone: 'You should make allowances for the mortification, not only of a lover, Margaret, but of a man not given to romance in general—prudent, worldly, as some people call me—who has been carried out of his usual habits by the force of a passion—well, we will say no more of that; but in the one outlet which he has formed for the deeper and better feelings of his nature, he meets with rejection and repulse. I shall have to console myself with scorning my own folly. A struggling barrister to think of matrimony!'”

Her grief does cause him to realize that he needs to stop making her feel bad about this -- or, at least, broadcast a facade of good cheer -- if they're going to have any hope of keeping the friendship. After all, they're still in Helstone's garden with Margaret's dad not too far off!!!

However, he's not able to cover up his "disappointment" entirely and it shows as "hardness in his tone". He doesn't apologize for giving her grief, but instead asks her to make "allowances" for him. I don't like this for a lot of reasons (why does she have to make allowances for you when you don't seem to give the same respect back?), but what's even worse is that he says one of those allowances should be "for the mortification...of a lover..." UM??? If I’m reading this right, he wants her to allow for him feeling like he was her lover and now having to deal with her rejection of romance. Henry, let me break it down for you: you were never her lover -- ever. If you felt like her lover, that is your issue, not hers, to deal with. The fact that you're admitting that aloud is appalling and the fact you want her to allow for that problem is even worse. It’s almost like he kept up a pretense of friendship and all the while imagining they were lovers. That’s so weird!!! And again, remains relatable (unfortunately).

The other allowance, which I mentioned earlier, is that he’s not a big “feelings” person and since he got carried away by his passions, she should understand why he feels crushed that the one time he’s swept off his feet by romance, the feelings are not returned. I hate to tell you, Henry, but just because you’re more “worldly” than the rest of us doesn’t mean you’re going to get a girlfriend faster: just a pro tip!

Both of these allowances are quite silly, in my opinion. Yeah, so you have a crush for the first time and you thought of her as your girlfriend and the feelings weren’t mutual. What is she supposed to do, give you a cookie? I’m being facetious, of course, I know what he’s actually hoping is for her to change her mind and be like “I had no idea I was your first crush 🥺 wow, since I’m so special to you, of course I’ll court you!!! 😍❤️” which — ugh. I want to say he doesn’t understand how women work, but I’m hard-pressed to see how this would work on anyone!! Maybe in his head it would work on one of those “regular London girls” (which I’m beginning to think is just a made up notion in his head of women anyway), but I’ve said that Margaret is not one of those women (if they do exist) and never will be. The fact that he thinks he can make her be one or she will become one in time is concerning: what would he be like if they did court? Would she be expected to change for him? Or even if he does like her as is, would she be expected to “act differently” in front of his friends and other relatives? Again, reading this in a NT/ND lens really adds another layer of meaning to how this would affect Margaret’s mental health in the long term.

He ends this by saying he’ll have to “console himself by scorning his own folly” and scoffing at the idea of a struggling man in his job thinking of marriage. First of all, she has literally said nothing about your profession — you brought that up briefly before in your confession (I didn’t mention it because I didn’t have anything to say on it) — but she never said “I’m not going to court you because you’re a lawyer struggling to make ends meet”. Of course, you’re going to think that because it’s easier to think of her as shallow (only after men for their current money) and the “problem” as something you can fix (he can fix a money issue, can’t fix her thoughts of him being a friend), but really: how in denial can you be?

Secondly, this is the first time he’s brought up marriage. Of course, in the Victorian age that’s where courtships were supposed to lead, but still. It’s interesting that he waited until now to drop that last bit in; it almost seems like a last-ditch lament to be like “woe is me! How could I think anyone would ever marry me 🥺💔” which would pull at the heartstrings. Of course, I’m likely reading too much into this because I’m reading it in the tone of him doing anything to try to get her to court/marry him, even using manipulation and guilt tactics to do so. Is it likely he’s just upset and saying whatever comes to mind? Sure. But some people will do anything to get their way and so far he hasn’t shown himself to be very graceful in dealing with rejection.

“Margaret could not answer this. The whole tone of it annoyed her. It seemed to touch on and call out all the points of difference which had often repelled her in him; while yet he was the pleasantest man, the most sympathising friend, the person of all others who understood her best in Harley Street. She felt a tinge of contempt mingle itself with her pain at having refused him. Her beautiful lip curled in a slight disdain.”

I suppose I’m not the only one getting bad vibes from this last speech. Margaret sees the worst parts of him — the little things that had always bothered her about him — and while she still feels bad about hurting him, she can’t help but visibly show “disdain” for the way he’s talking to her now.

Suddenly, they come upon Mr. Hale and Margaret feels as if she's had an out-of-body experience, comparing it to an Eastern tale of a king who went through an experience of a lifetime just by dipping his head in a magical basin of water. In other words, she is not the same as she was when she last saw her father!

Of course, due to the amount of emotions with everything that has just taken place, she is quite unable to speak and lets Henry and her father do most of the talking. Henry notices her quiet and morose look and:

“"I am not so indifferent to her as she believes,' thought he to himself. 'I do not give up hope."”

Oh...oh no. Henry, literally just accept the no. She told you no -- JUST ACCEPT THE -- ok, I need to calm down. This man is fictional. The problem is there are men -- nay, people -- who think like this. Who will hear a "no" and then see the person's face and have such a cognitive dissonance IN THEIR BRAIN that they're like "nah, they actually totally want me, THEY just can't see the truth yet." As if they know better.

It's really hilarious Henry thinks he knows Margaret's thoughts and feelings better than *she* does considering he doesn't even know how to talk to her without her shutting him down because he accidentally disrespected her small town (rhyme not intended but a pleasant surprise). How does he think a relationship with a foundation like that? I realize they are good friends and get along in other ways, but it is sooooo telling to me that the *second* he flirts, she either becomes uncomfortable or straight up doesn't get it (or pretends not to, depending on how you read it). How could they be married like that??

So yeah, unfortunately, Margaret is not even allowed to look sad without Henry jumping on the chance that she'll want him someday. I'm almost 100% sure this would've happened regardless of the facial expression she had. Happy (from trying to keep up a cheerful facade)? "Oh, she's actually super happy I confessed my feelings and will love me soon, just watch." Mad? "She's actually mad at herself for refusing me." Confused? "She doesn't know what she wants, she'll choose me eventually." That's just the kind of person we're dealing with here.

"Before a quarter of an hour was over, he had fallen into a way of conversing with quiet sarcasm; speaking of life in London and life in the country, as if he were conscious of his second mocking self, and afraid of his own satire."

Ok, so this passage is really hard to decipher for me and I might need some help figuring ot out! From what I'm able to gather, he's mainly mocking both the country and London, but maybe in also a self-depricating way as well (this is the main part I'm stuck on)? What I do understand is why he's doing this; Henry is a man who's default is to mock and be sarcastic. It's his coping mechanism for when things get too "real". We haven't seen him be as such yet because he hasn't needed to be around Margaret. However, now that he's been thrown off by her rejection, his way of dealing with it is to slip back into empty sarcasm.

Mr. Hale notices this change and is quite put off by it, even being relieved when he has to leave. He notes the change from the "lighter, clever, more worldly man" he saw earlier and at the wedding breakfast. It's interesting how a lot of people tend to use sarcasm to seem more clever and worldy, but Gaskell sees through this and contrasts them as opposites in this chapter! What a callout! She's so real for that.

At the last moment, Henry Lennox’s real self broke through the crust. “Margaret, don’t despise me; I have a heart, notwithstanding all this good-for-nothing way of talking. As a proof of it, I believe I love you more than ever—if I do not hate you—for the disdain with which you have listened to me during this last half-hour. Good-bye, Margaret—Margaret!”

First of all, describing the weird sarcasm thing he was doing as a "crust" is funny and interesting to me -- I didn't know that could mean "harsh" or "surly": the more you know! Secondly, love that he calls out his own coping mechanism while still having done it -- progress, I guess? And third -- best of all -- Henry, my guy, my dude, why on earth would you tell her you love her while also saying you might hate her because she hasn't been happy with you for the past 30 minutes???? I am truly baffled. Has this man ever wooed a woman in his life? For the sake of the female population, I truly hope not because if THIS is how he does it -- YIKES!!!! Luckily, he probably hasn't considering his whole "i'M a lAwYeR wHo dOeSnT hAvE bIg rOmAnCe fEeLiNgS" speech.

And that's the way the chapter ends, so I'll end with a couple of points I want to make clear.

I know I've been super hard on Henry and -- to be fair -- I think he's deserved some of it. But I don't think he's a bad person. So far, Gaskell has written all of her characters with a complexity and depth that shows you're supposed to root for these characters (more or less), while also understanding their flaws. There were times I pointed out when Margaret wasn't at her best either; while she isn't entitled to return Henry's feelings, she was sort of trivializing them and I wouldn't like that either. I think the problem with Henry is that he's used to getting what he wants and when he doesn't get it, he gets upset and lashes out the way he did with Margaret. I do honestly think he needs to work on himself and not think of romance right now because it sounds like he has deeper problems going on; if Margaret's rejection causes him to act like this, it's not just her rejection that's bothering him. I noticed that he talked about how he's currently struggling in his job and I think that can also account for him getting upset -- perhaps he had hoped for this to be a "good thing" to focus on instead of his work that isn't going well. I'm glad Margaret didn't return his feelings in that case because having one person the sole source of your happiness is never healthy and running away from your problems won't fix them! So yes, while I'm hard on him I do still think he has good moments and can be better: we're just seeing him at his worst. Still, that doesn't excuse his behavior, just explains it.

I also want to clarify for those who think I'm being too harsh on Henry and am doing so because I "don't understand what it's like to be rejected romantically". As a quick personal aside: I've been on his side of a romantic confession and was also rejected by someone who was my friend. And it hurt -- badly. Especially because there were many "signs" I read too much into as romantic (flirting, holding hands, etc.) so said rejection was not what I saw coming, much like Henry. However, when I realized that this person only saw me as a friend and wanted to keep it that way, I immediately told them "ok, I understand" and then took some time to myself to sort through my feelings. These were mainly embarrasment, shame, sorrow, and anger -- not at the person, but at myself for potentially ruining the friendship over this.

My main problem with Henry is that he reacts to Margaret's rejection with disappointment, anger, frustration, and hurt. These don't seem like the kind of emotions that come with an unselfish love, I hate to say it. I know there is likely more feelings bubbling beneath the surface, but if he's going to react that way and realizes he's hurting her in the process (which he does), he should ask for space while he sorts himself out. I get that wasn't "the thing" back then so I guess it's a bit harder for me to say "oh, Henry should've just left!" when no, he can't just abruptly leave like that and "oh, Henry should just work on his mental health" when that was very much not talked of. I'm just trying to think of ways he could've better handled this situation; he can't help his feelings, but he can help how he acts on those feelings. And it's not fair to Margaret to continually pressure her into a relationship she so obviously does not want. Additionally, the way he makes his confession/proposal frustrates me too because he mainly makes it about himself and his feelings. He wishes she wasn't happy at Helstone, he loves her, he's not a romantic person so it's a big deal for him. I mean, he doesn't even talk about her good qualities or what he likes about her: even Mr. "and what excellent boiled potatoes" Collins did that!!!!!

As a final note, if you're reading Dracula Daily at the same time as North and South Weekly, you may have noticed a few parallels between this failed proposal and Jack Seward's failed proposal. I want to dive into them and why I respect Seward's more than Lennox's, but I don't want to do it here because this post might be my longest to date and I'd rather make it a separate post anyway!

So yeah, another great chapter, excited to see what happens next week!

[captainofthedauntless]

More Rise!Nardo thoughts.

Just thinking about how he'd abuse the fuck out of his portal abilities with you. Always offering to be your "ride" when you need to go somewhere, using it as an excuse to see you for just a minute when you're busy. The classic you're upset? oh lol i just Happened To Pop By A Shop, Here, Your Favorite Snacks.

He'd show up in a heartbeat to help you move furniture, or to help you cook, or to help you speed clean because your aunt's in town all of a sudden and you cannot let her know you live like this.

You don't think anything of it, really. Because it's effortless for him. It's like getting up from the couch for how much energy it takes him.

But it gets to be a habit.

It's a pattern.

You text him after a long day, once, and you say something about being tired and not wanting to cook, and then he's in your kitchen with a crackle of blue energy and a bag of take out and a hoodie he pulls off less than five minutes later, passing it to you with an easy shrug and a nonchalant smile. Lot warmer in here than the lair, he says breezily, as though it isn't your favorite of his hoodies. As though it was an accident.

He does that a lot, you realize. Act as though calculation is coincidence.

And then you can't stop realizing it.

It's not just the portals.

It's everywhere.

He's everywhere.

He's spending enough time at your place that he just leaves his stuff there when he gets a mission call, and you end up with a stack of books and comics that you definitely didn't pick up yourself, and instead of mentioning it you just replace his horrifying whatever-he-can-find bookmarks (you find one of your bracelets there, once) with actual ones. People keep giving them to you as freebies- might as well put them to use.

Somehow he knows when you've got big appointments scheduled, and he just casually shows up the night before and complains about how you do your chores and insists on showing you how it's done, and then you blink and he's put away every dish in your kitchen, all while playfully critiquing your organization. And, like magic, you're free to sit down and relax, because evidently your sweeping technique is also tragic, no, no, give me that, you're- you're banished, that's abysmal, and feet off the ground- don't care, it needs swept, go on.

Crazy how his movie night picks are some of your favorites. Great minds think alike, eh?

And then 'huh, Leo's pretty helpful' becomes 'oh, Leo's given me impossible standards' when you wake up in the middle of the night and can't seem to catch your breath from a nightmare. You fumble for your phone and type what's supposed to say are you up? and comes out as ate yii yo? and then your phone is ringing.

He greets you with a you alright? that you think should probably be harsher than it is considering the hour, and when you manage to get the word dream out of your face he follows up with want some company?

And you must say yes, because the next thing you know is a crackle of blue energy (which should look dangerous, should feel dangerous, but looks like a playful wave and feels like home) and nearly six feet of mutant turtle dropping onto your bed, landing with a playful bounce that shakes a little of the dream-scented-sludge from your mind.

Sorry, he says, playful and grinning as he folds his arms behind his head and watches you like he can read your mind, traffic was a nightmare.

And you shake your head, because what the fuck, but you're laughing despite yourself and some of the scrutiny melts from his eyes.

Thought I'd-

Don't say drop by.

I would never, he says, but he doesn't elaborate on what he was going to say, and you draw your own conclusions. Anywhoozles, what's the vibe? Movie? Snack? Field trip to the top of the Great Wall?

And somehow he means it.

He's in your room at four in the morning, still in his pajamas, mask down around his neck, all warm and soft and sleep-shaped, and offering you the world like it was a piece of gum.

And you just stare at him, wondering if you're still dreaming.

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter five — late night shenanigans

WORD COUNT — 3,322

WARNINGS — minor injury, mentions of blood

NOTES — k i know what i said last chapter but this is also one of my favorites and as usual, please don't do anything represented in this chapter, these people are dumbasses and this is all fiction so PLEASE DON'T DO WHAT THEY DO IN THIS CHAPTER YOU WILL GET HURT

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Since everyone else had canceled on you and Newt two weeks ago, Brenda decided that a large scale hang out was needed to make up for it. Even though everyone agreed, no one knew what exactly she had been planning so far, not even you. All she had told everyone was that it was an overnight thing at her house. 

The majority of the group was fine with that, and apparently so was everyone’s parents. It was only until lunch that Friday, mere hours before you were all supposed to hang out, that Minho decided to ask Brenda for some details. And, in pure Minho fashion, he did it with a mouth full of salad, his words just barely audible among the din of the cafeteria. “So, what are we doing at your house tonight?”

“What?” Brenda asked, leaning across from him to try and hear better. 

“He wants to know what we’re doing tonight,” Thomas clarified, and suddenly, all eyes were on Brenda. 

“Oh, yeah, right.” She smiled, almost like she’d forgotten. “We’re gonna go to Mickey’s, or order out from there, but we’re all going to stay at my house for the night. And all of us have that econ test at some point on Tuesday, right? So we can try and study for that as well, because I’m not failing my first econ test of senior year. If we get bored or anything, I still have the Wii set up in the living room.” 

To no one’s surprise, the group decided that this was an amazing plan. You were excited for it, aside from the upcoming test. From all the complaining Thomas had done over the years, it was clear that Mr. Henley’s tests were, quite frankly, unnecessarily difficult. 

The rest of the afternoon went as it usually did on Fridays. Classes, a bit of homework, and a snack to tide you over before packing a bag and heading over to Brenda’s house with Thomas and Teresa at around 7pm. And, just like every other time you’d had plans so far, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling antsy and excited in the hours leading up to it. It was something you were either going to have to learn to control, or simply get used to. 

With your backpack slung over one shoulder and a tote bag in hand, you walked up Brenda’s driveway, glancing up at the hill and main road that was attached to the back of her backyard. There were no other vehicles in the driveway aside from Newt’s and Thomas’s, so you could only assume that Brenda’s parents either weren’t home or had parked in the two car garage. 

Your assumption that they weren’t home was proven correct when Brenda greeted you at the door, her home laid out similarly to yours and Thomas’, and directed you to the living room. Giant bowls of chips were laid out on the coffee table, along with fruits, gummy candy, and an abundance of water bottles that were also tucked under the coffee table. 

“I only planned the sleepover for tonight because Jorge took off for the weekend,” Brenda mentioned as you put your bags against the back of the couch, where everyone else seemed to put theirs as well. “Had to go visit some supplier for new coffee or something, I don’t know. All I know is he’s not here until Sunday evening, so the place is all mine for a few days.” 

You chuckled at Brenda’s wide, mischievous grin, and you wondered just how much trust her foster father had in her to keep the house in order by herself for the weekend. 

“Uh, go ahead and get settled, I’m gonna be calling Mickey’s for a delivery order soon,” Brenda said. “I think Jeff’s delivering tonight so it’ll get here quick.”

You dropped onto the couch next to Minho, who was scrolling on his phone, with Newt doing the same thing next to him — though he was snacking on a bowl of grapes in his lap — looking the most relaxed you’d ever seen him. Gally, unfortunately, was the only one of you who wasn’t going to be present for the night, as he and his family were headed to New Jersey yesterday to visit family and wouldn’t be back until late Monday evening. 

After greeting them, you asked where the girls were, only for Newt to tell you that they were upstairs, gathering pillows, blankets, and spare air mattresses to use on the floor. You noticed a single air mattress box by the sliding glass door that led to Brenda’s backyard, and assumed that this was something that typically happened often. That, or Jorge had extended family that visited often. 

You took in the rest of the living room while you waited for the girls. The TV was mounted to the wall, surrounded by a built-in entertainment and storage system. Bookshelves lined either side, with cupboards running along the bottom. The bookshelves were filled with framed photos, books, an occasional potted plant, movies and video games. Where the tops of the cupboards were, underneath where the TV was mounted, seemed to be the shelf in which Jorge and Brenda put their entertainment systems. You were almost shocked to find a Wii, PS4, and an Xbox laid out with their respective controllers and other accessories. 

The kitchen was directly behind you, its archway perfectly lined up with the back of the couch. It took up the whole of the other side of the home, and looked absolutely magnificent. All white cupboards and counters, black accented hardware and utensils, along with a large island on the outer edge and some bar stools. The rest of the kitchen, mostly near the front door, housed the large, 6 seat, solid oak dining table. 

Just as you leaned forward to grab some strawberries from the bowl in front of you, Sonya, Harriet, and Brenda barrelled their way down the stairs and into the living room, carrying armfuls of blankets and pillows. You watched them struggle before dumping the piles near the sliding glass door. 

Brenda sighed, before heading to the door across the living room. “I hate going into the garage,” she groaned, but headed into the dark room nonetheless, pulling out two more air mattress boxes upon her return. 

Thomas helped her drag them over to the outlet near the entertainment system, and everyone got to work in setting things up further. 

You helped Minho push the couch back and the coffee table against the entertainment center to make room, while Thomas and Brenda unrolled the first of the air mattresses. Harriet and Sonya rolled out the others to make things quicker, before helping Newt sort out the blankets they’d brought downstairs. Minho took his phone and headed to the kitchen to order the food, Teresa following to make sure everyone’s order would be right. 

After a very loud ten minutes, the air mattresses were blown up and placed in their respective areas — one between the couch and coffee table, and the other two placed vertically on either side of the first. They’d been fitted with blankets and pillows, and everyone was sitting or laying in some way on a mattress or the couch. Netflix had been playing for a few minutes now as everyone settled in with their textbooks, waiting for the food to arrive. 

You and Newt sat with Brenda on the couch, as you all had to take the test at the same time — and you would be the first of the group to take it — so stressing out together made the most sense. 

Even after the food arrived and everyone was stress eating, the silence between you didn’t let up, as everyone focused solely on their notes and their dinner. The mood persisted, passing the time when everyone finished their food, and when Netflix had asked if you were still there. 

Studying was beginning to become mind numbing, and you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to read the same pages of notes over and over again before you went insane. You’d begun to hog the bowl of sour keys Brenda laid out in order to keep your hands and stomach occupied while you read. 

At some point, though, Brenda let out one of the loudest sighs you’d ever heard — the loudest being the one your old English teacher, Mrs. Nelson, had let out after reading your classes substitute teacher report — before slamming her books shut and groaning as she tossed her head back onto the couch, moaning out, “I’m so bored,”

“You and me both,” Teresa muttered.

Minho grumbled from his air mattress, “I swear, I think my brain is leaking out of my ears.” 

A beat of silence passed between the group again before Brenda shot up, back straight as she gasped, her features lighting up. “Guys, I know what we should do.” Her smile turned into a smirk as everyone looked up from their books to hear her out. “We should do a shopping cart race.”

As a light wave of protest washed over the group, you looked around, confused. 

“Come on, guys! They’re so much fun and we never do them anymore!” Brenda argued before pointing to you. “Besides, Y/n’s never done it before! She’s gotta try it at least once, right?”

“Are you guys sure this is completely legal?”

“Yeah, of course. We used to do it all the time.” Minho assured you. “Besides, the outside of the grocery store doesn’t have security cameras. They can’t afford ‘em.”

You nodded, but Minho’s words did nothing to curb your anxiety. Instead, you stood still in the shadows of the grocery store, watching as the group gathered enough grocery carts for two people to share one. The sound of the carts rolling across the asphalt of the parking lot was too loud as you rolled them off the property and onto the main road. 

As everyone lined up their carts, you asked, “Okay, so how does this work again?”

“Simple,” Minho shrugged, “someone gets in the cart, someone else pushes it. Whichever one of us gets to that intersection at the bottom of the hill first, wins.”

You nodded, the explanation of the game doing absolutely nothing to calm the odd mixture of panic and exhilaration filling every cell in your body. The pairs had been determined during the climb up the hill behind Brenda’s backyard, and as luck would have it, you were with Newt. Minho was with Brenda, Thomas with Teresa, and Harriet with Sonya. 

Along with Sonya, Teresa, and Brenda, you climbed into the cart, gripping either side of it as Newt stood behind you, hands firmly on the cart’s handlebar. You and Newt were on the far left side of the road, Thomas’ cart next to yours, then Harriet’s, then Minho’s. You would’ve been totally fine with the race, had it not been for the fact that the road you were heading down was on a steady decline with a curve to it. 

Before you knew it, though, Minho was shouting the countdown, his voice bouncing off the nearby hills, and suddenly, you were gripping the cart with white knuckles as feet stomped against the pavement and the wind pushed your hair from your face. You felt the cart rattling all throughout your body as Newt pushed ahead, one foot slotted on the bottom rack, the other continuing to push forward, as though the cart were a scooter or skateboard. 

Keeping the cart on track proved to be extremely difficult, as the tip of Thomas and Teresa’s cart would often ding against the side of yours. You and Newt were in the lead, though, and the adrenaline that pumped through you felt amazing. So much so that you barely noticed that you’d barrelled past the stop sign, and were continuing down the road. 

Just as Newt began using his weight and both feet to slow the cart to a stop, one of the front wheels caught on a rock in the road. You lurched within the cart as it halted slightly before shuddering violently, spinning out on the pavement and eventually tipping to one side. 

As it tipped, the air left your lungs and your grip on either side ceased, favoring the protection of your head as you toppled to one side, pain quickly blooming over your entire body. It was most significant at your right hip and forearm, particularly where your arm had hit the pavement. It stung and burned all at once, pulsing with pain. 

Trying to catch your breath, you immediately used what little adrenaline your body had left to push yourself up and slide out of the cart, trying to get your bearings back. Everyone else had managed to come to a safe stop and were all making their way toward you, shouting concerns as they approached. You looked down to find Newt pulling himself up into a sitting position as well, a slit of dark red blood blooming underneath his eye. 

Thomas and Teresa were the first to make their way to you, the former bending down to help you up. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, I think I’m fine,” you nodded, smoothing out your hair, catching Thomas’ grimace as you did. You glanced back at your right arm, pain still burning across it. You found that the sleeve of the flannel you wore was dotted with holes and tears, dark red blood splotching the fabric. Carefully, you undid the cuff button and peeled the fabric back, briefly inspecting your arm. “Aside from that, apparently.”

A portion of your forearm was littered with cuts and scrapes, some of which had pebbles or bits of asphalt embedded in them. The entire area was stinging, your skin clearly rubbed raw from the impact. The flannel you wore had protected most of your arm, and the wipe out had been mostly low-impact, so you were sure that as long as you cleaned and wrapped your arm, you’d be fine. 

Newt limped his way over to you and Thomas, accompanied by the rest of the group. He gave you a once over, nodding mostly at your arm as he asked, “You okay?”

“Pretty much, it’s mostly just my arm. You?”

“For the most part. The bloody cart came down on my leg,” he said, glancing back at the cart. “I tried to stop it, but it must’ve hit something and wiped out, m’sorry.”

You shook your head, laughter bubbling up from your chest. “It’s okay, Newt. Don’t worry about it. The pain will probably be gone by tomorrow, it’s no big deal. Besides, it was my first cart race ever, and we won, didn’t we?”

Newt smiled, looking at where everyone else’s carts were. “We did.”

After pushing the carts back uphill and returning them to the grocery store, everyone headed back down the path into Brenda’s backyard, talking and recounting previous cart races and giving you third person perspectives on the crash. You assisted Newt, considering he was still mildly limping as you headed down the rocky terrain. 

By the time you were back in Brenda’s living room, you were left with just the sting of the cuts on your arm. There was no telling yet if you would end up with any bruises, but it was bound to happen, and there wouldn’t be anything you could do about them. 

Almost as soon as you were through the door, Brenda ushered you and Newt up the stairs to get cleaned up. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hall, through the door on the left. There’s a first aid kit underneath the sink.”

You followed behind Newt, who searched for the kit in the bathroom cupboards, finding it quite easily. It was massive, and you figured that Brenda must’ve been the clumsiest person on the planet, as the kit was nearly professional. 

After you took your flannel off, leaving you with your tank top, Newt began to patch up your arm. He held it over the sink, pouring antiseptic over it, and you had to bite your lip just to prevent yourself from making any noise. It stung even worse now, but the wound was clean and free of debris. Then came the adhesive gauze patch, the second largest one in the kit. It covered almost the entire length of your forearm, but barely half of its circumference. 

Once you were patched up, you grabbed the bottle of antiseptic from the ledge of the sink and doused a cotton ball with it, gently grasping Newt’s chin to hold his face steady while you wiped the cut clean, along with any blood that had dried around it. He hissed when the antiseptic touched his cut, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Such a baby,”

“Says you,” he retorted, brows furrowed. “Don’t act like you didn’t cry when I cleaned your cuts.”

You only scoffed, pulling back to search for a band-aid. “I have road rash, Newt. You basically just cut your cheekbone.” 

The blond stayed silent, and you smiled and huffed in satisfaction, pulling out a small band-aid. Once it was covering the cut, you both packed up the kit and put it back before heading back down to the living room, only to find everyone arguing over what to play. The Wii’s home screen was displayed on the TV, but it seemed everyone was struggling on what game they should play first. 

Finally, everyone had settled on Just Dance, and there ended up being a rotation of sorts. either two or four people would play a few rounds, then another, then another, and so on. It didn’t take long for everyone to have ran through all the good songs, so Wii Sports was the next up on the list. 

You could already tell, as Newt and Minho almost started an actual fight over Minho’s loss in tennis, that it would be a very long night. 

When the morning came, you didn’t want to go home. Last night was so much fun that you wished it would never end — much like your nights at the park. 

Over all, between the Wii games — where Thomas managed to misjudge the distance of the coffee table and ended up violently smacking his foot into it during his stint with Rasputin — and watching Mamma Mia! and recreating a lot of the scenes, you had a pretty tiring late night.

Somewhere during the second movie, everyone fell asleep one after the other on the air mattresses, while Brenda went upstairs to her room and you claimed injury and took the couch. 

After dropping Teresa off at her house, you came home with Thomas to find Chuck sitting at the table doing his homework with Maggie’s help, your father likely checking emails in his office. Despite you wanting to keep it secret, there was no hiding the bandage on your arm as you headed for the stairs. 

Without glancing up from Chuck’s workbook, Maggie asked, “So how’d the race go?”

You and Thomas froze, sharing a look before he darted off. You glared at Thomas’ back as he began his ascent with a guilty smile, while you debated your answer. 

Finally, you glanced at her as you said, “Newt and I won,”

You could hear the smirk in her words as she said, “That’s my girl.”

series masterlist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine (open!)

[hannahhook7744]

Stormbringer Crew Incorrect Quotes (Part 5);

Harry Hook: You fight like my sister!

Luke Tremaine-Westergaard, being a smart ass: I've fought your sisters. That's a compliment!

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

Barnaby Teach, son of Black Beard *Jumps out of nowhere* We meet again!

Hannah Hook: I saw you three hours ago!

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

Hannah Hook: Hello Captain Beardless.

Barnaby: I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALL ME THAT!

Hannah Hook: And I told you to pick on someone your own age.

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

Hannah Hook, drunk on soda: I'm telling you man, she digs ya.

Luke Tremaine-Westergaard, also drunk on soda, groans: Another graveyard joke?

Hannah: Shut up, we both know you thought it was funny.

Luke: And we both know you have a thing for the prince of Arendelle yet you haven't done anything.

Hannah: Don't throw stones in glass houses.

Luke: That's not even how that saying goes!

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

Darcy *stares at all nine of her siblings, who are gathered in the 'med room' suspiciously* What do you want?

Alex, playing with a knife: You gotta help us doc, we've tried nothing and we're all out of ideas

Darcy: Help you with WHAT?

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

River Le Beak, holding his beanie to his chest as he stands on a sinking rowboat: Looks like we've shivered our last Timbers, mateys.

Hannah, shooting him a disgusted look: I'm revoking your pirate card.

River, gasping dramatically and hugging Luke: No captain! Please, anything but that!

Luke, playing along: Not the pirate card! What are you gonna do next? Give us the black spot?

Skia, glares with water up to her ankles: if she doesn't, I will.

Zee, five inches away on the dock: You guys know you can just step onto the docs right?

All *shushes her*

Zee, looks to Peachy and Remi: would it be a mutiny if I tossed a cannon ball in their rowboat to make it go down quicker?

Peachy: YES!

Remi, grabbing his guitar: Oh there once was a row boat that went to sea, that got on the wrong side of a pirate named Zee~~

*Dodges rotten tomato*

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

Joy Foxworth, pointing at Tulip with a squirt gun: You've yeed your last haw!

Tulip, pointing back at her with own squirt gun: No I haven't, partner.

Hannah Hook, baffled from the tree, forgetting she's supposed to be hiding: WHAT LANGUAGE ARE YOU GUYS SPEAKING?!

Peter Pan, sprays her with a water cannon filled with something that is not water causing her to fall out of the tree: COWBOY!

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

Random AK: Having Vks in Auradon is all fun and games until they're on the opposing dodgeball team!

Kyle White: That sounds like a skill issue to me.

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

Amira: YOU FOUGHT WHOMST WITH A WHAT WHEN YOU WERE HOW OLD?!

Hannah, confused: What are you referring to?

Amira: Aziz said you told him a story about your childhood—

Hannah, realizing what she's talking about: Oh I stabbed a kidnapper with a fork when I was three.

Amira: YOU WERE NEARLY KIDNAPPED?!

Hannah: Yeah, hasn't everyone nearly been kidnapped at one point?

Amira: NO!

Hannah, not believing her: Oh sure. Next thing you're gonna tell me is that there isn't a Creeps Peak and Cannibal Cove everywhere-

Amira: THERE'S NOT-

Hannah: And that not everyone gets death threats as children-

Amira, eye twitching: Stay here, I need to go take my Tiger for a walk to Beast Castle.

Hannah*laughing* That's a funny joke Amira- hey where'd she go?

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

Tulip Rossi, Zee Snoops, Evie, and Luke Tremaine-Westergaard: SURPISE MAKEOVER!!

Hannah Hook, running: NO NO NO NO!

Luke: YOU CAN'T OUTRUN US FOREVER!

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

Hannah, half asleep and looking through her spy glass: SWOGGLE MY EYES IT'S MERMAIDS!

Moxie, amused: Describe 'em.

Hannah: There's a tan one with a gold and black tail that looks like sequins and one with a blue and black tail and an afro, a buoy grave, and a baby one-

Rian Frankenstein-Van Helsing, not even bothering to look up from his marine biology book: That's just Misty, River, Shania, and Toby, captain.

Hannah, embarrased: Oh.

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

Hannah at 3am: Do you guys think other types of bending exist that were forgotten to history? Like bone bending?

Luke at the end of the bed: I think that's just breaking bones.

Drizella, who came to check on Luke: When on earth did you get here?

Hannah: about 11?

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

Luke: Hey Darcy, are you Christmas? Because I wanna marry you.

Darcy:

Luke: I'm guessing that's a no until I propose in a non corny way?

Darcy, nodds:

Hannah off screen: I told you she was gonna say no if you did it that way!

Luke: SHHH!

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

Kyle, in a silly voice: Yarr, I be a pirate, maties. Arrrg!

Hannah, looking at him as if he just shit in her cereal: I can't belive you've done this.

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

Moxxie laying on a beanbag: Christmas gets so much harder the older you get. What do you want for Christmas? I don't know! Financial security? To not almost die for a week? Socks? I don't know! What about you guys?

Rian: I want to be as smart as I was before I got brought back to life.

Eduardo Frollo: My father dead.

Parker McLeach: A gun.

Hannah: To be normal.

Haul Bjorgman: My depression to go away.

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

Hook: Okay which one of you gave my daughter a real golden sword and who taught her slang?

Hades, drinking out of a gauntlet: She won a ship, I thought she deserved a reward.

Hook: Did you teach her the slang?!

Morgie: What slang did she use?

Uliana, amused: And how does this slang relate to the sword?

Hook: She named it the nut slicer!

Hades *does a spit take*

Persephone *chokes on her cereal*

*Meanwhile elsewhere, Maleficent can be heard cackling*

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

Hannah, near tears: Alex I did something terrible!

Alex, the son of Helga Sinclair and Hades: Don't worry, I have a shovel! *Taps ground with shovel*

Hannah, vaguely terrified: Wait what? What do you think I did?

Alex, a mad glint in his eye and a wild smile on his face: It doesn't matter because no one will ever find out.

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

Kidnapper: We have your son.

Haul, confused: I don't have a son.

Kidnapper: Then whose watering and talking to my plants while blasting heavy metal music?

Haul: Oh my god you have Noah. His siblings are going to kill you.

Kidnapper: Hey buddy don't you threaten me.

Haul: I'm not threatening, I'm warning-

*A loud crash rings out over the phone followed by glass breaking, swearing, and screaming*

Darcy: Hey Haul.

Haul: Hey Darcy, Hannah told me to tell you and the guys to be at the ship tonight because we're having a party.

Darcy: Will be there.

*Phone hangs up*

Haul: Well I did warn them.

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

Olivia, Gaston's daughter: In hindsight, having an abusive parent is funny because it's like 'Daddy why you have beef with me, I'm literally three years old and I love you'.

Eduardo, Frollo's son: Ugh, don't remind me. One time my dad yelled at me for drawing too loud.

Luke, confused: How do you draw too loud?

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

Darcy: I've got a date with destiny and it ain't gonna end with a kiss.

Noah, confused: Who's destiny?

Darcy: It's just an expression, brother.

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

Hans: We have a front door you know.

Hannah, who came in through Luke's window like normal: I know.

Hans *sighs*

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

Noah: MY CABBAGES!

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

The kids in Hannah's crew: I wanna be just like you when I grow up!

Twenty year old Hannah, suddenly getting flashbacks to every dangerous thing she's ever done *spit take*

Hannah, internally: NO GODS, PLEASE. GODS NO!

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

Elara's birth parents *try to take their daughter back after abandoning her on the barrage and causing her to grow up on the isle*

Hannah, pushes the elf girl behind her and glares: SHE'S NOT YOURS, SHE'S MINE!

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

Hannah *shooting up in her bed in the middle of the night and accidentally knocking Skia, Luke, and River who she was having a sleepover with out of it*

Luke: OW!

Skia: Hey!

River: Hannah, what the hell?

Hannah, getting horrible flashbacks to her family's partners violent attempts to flirt: HAVE MACON WEST AND OLGA HEARTS BEEN FLIRTING WITH ME THIS WHOLE TIME?!

*Momentarily silence followed by a loud explosion of noise as the other three question if that is the case*

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

Hannah: When I was younger I used to set toilet paper on fire and flush it down the toilet for fun and only stopped because I burnt the seat.

Eduardo Frollo: Again, weird but not a sin.

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

Luke: One time when I was a kid the toaster caught fire, so I went over to my dad who was arguing with my grandmother and tugged on his sleeve for six minutes till I had his attention and calmly told him the toaster was on fire.

Hannah: Oh yeah I remember that. He was all like 'WHAT? AHHH!' and your grandma asked why we didn't say anything lol.

Kyle: why do you remember that?

Hannah: Oh I was there.

Kyle: ?

Hannah, fondly sighs: Good times.

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

Lady Tremaine, impatiently: And if I wanted to sit around all day going nowhere, I’d be a teacher!

Luke, fed up *hits the gas and starts driving recklessly* Got it.

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

Lady Tremaine to Luke: You’re not fit to be king of … name a place

Luke: and you're not fit to be a mother, let alone a hair stylist.

*five minutes later*

Luke runs and hides behind Drizella: MOM! GRANDMA'S TRYING TO KILL ME!

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

Lady Tremaine, regarding Luke: My third biggest fear: He brings home a whore and says, ‘We’re married!’ Oh, and the whore has bangs.

Darcy: I'm literally right here.

Lady Tremaine, drinking: And I wish you weren't.

Darcy: And I wish you were dead but we can't all have what we want.

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

Luke: Your point being- *freezes in horror*

Hannah *staring at him wide eyed*

Haul: Uh... What's wrong?

Luke, screaming: I'M TURNING INTO MY GRANDMOTHER!

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

Luke: You know, when I was little I used to pretend you weren't my grandmother.

Lady Tremaine: Me too.

[wordsinhaled]

have some of the WIP of my dreamling messy meetings AU, inspired by @valeriianz - who posited that dream & hob need more meet-uglies! valid!

in this AU, morpheus is hob's neighbor AND... surprise... also the guy who regularly steals hob's favorite table at the pub. they start up a game where they decide who gets the table each time they're both there by presenting each other with increasingly obscure words, and whoever can't define the word without the use of a dictionary has to give up the table for the night (i don't know, this just seems very on brand for them). etc, etc.

pining, vocabulary, gin & tonic, piano sonatas, frustrated romcom... that sort of thing. :)

-

Hob’s got this neighbor, you see. A neighbor he’s never actually seen, except silhouetted indistinctly behind window-curtains in the evenings, but who has a habit of always playing the piano at odd hours; and does he not realize other people actually live and have proper Circadian rhythms within a certain radius of him? Don’t misunderstand—Rachmaninoff is lovely, truly, it’s just Hob would really adore what is apparently the privilege of being able to sleep a full night, occasionally, like regular folk who aren’t blessed with virtuosic skill and perfect pitch. 

Incidentally, Hob and Morpheus like to frequent the New Inn on the same days and evenings. 

Or, it would be more accurate to say that Hob often patronizes the pub at the same hours as “the stranger at the pub, bit of a prat really,” which is how Hob is forced to think of him the first time he resolutely refuses to get up from Hob’s favorite seat in the house. Eventually, he becomes just “the stranger at the pub,” because he keeps turning up and haunting the place like a particularly picturesque wraith, and he’s also obstinate about not giving Hob a proper name to call him. 

One day, in Hob’s mind, he somehow transmutes into “the handsome stranger at the pub,” and that’s—well. Hob doesn’t know quite how that happens. 

Even more recently, he’s been occupying Hob’s thoughts as “his handsome stranger,” despite Hob not having any right or any grounds to make any sort of claim on him at all. 

It’s all because of their game, Hob supposes. 

Morpheus had been the one to come up with it, this odd little way of deciding who gets the prized table by the window. 

Well. Rather more precisely, as far as Hob is concerned, the person who masterminded their little arrangement was “this bloke at the pub, Gwennie, obnoxious like you wouldn’t believe, sitting in my spot, where, mind you, I’ve sat and done my marking for five bloody years straight and everyone knows it—except him, no, not Mister ‘I’ll Sit Anywhere I Like,’ who’s got zero concept—none!—of the joy of coming to your favorite pub of an evening, and knowing your favorite table is free, and using your favorite pen to mark exams while having a pint of your favorite ale. I mean, the audacity of—” 

But much to Hob’s chagrin, at this juncture his head of department had walked into the staffroom, Gwen had looked at him a bit pityingly, and he had had to rein in the rest of his bluster.

She should pity him, he’d thought; the things he had to live with! Bach’s Goldberg Variations, expertly though his elusive neighbor might execute them at three in the morning, were rapidly becoming Hob’s sworn enemies. And now there was this stranger, who had draped himself over Hob’s banquette as if he owned it and, smirking up at him, had said blithely, “I see plenty of other tables empty at this pub tonight.” 

“Yes, but,” Hob had said, depositing his messenger bag on the chair opposite, undeterred, “this one is mine.” 

“Oh?” The man flicked his eyes away from Hob, down to the table’s surface, which was nicked and worn, scored with generations of drunken mementos: etched messages, crude symbols, lovers’ initials united with plus signs and corralled by hearts. “Will I find your name here, then?”  

[nowoyas]

Koi no Yokan 20: sleep it off (nishinoya yuu/reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: speedposting this before work let me know if anything's broke

Summary: The biggest training camp of the year kicks off with five hours on a bus and a headache.

Warnings and tags: blanket series warnings

Words: 3700+

Fuck the Nishinoya family, honestly.

Fuck 'em for being so kind. Fuck 'em for the gifts, the cake, the way they welcomed you with open arms over the past two weeks. Fuck 'em for the soft hugs, the birthday card they'd presented you with, the way Rina had made you schedule a day to come over for dinner and immediately written it on the whiteboard calendar in the kitchen, outlined with a little doodle of fireworks like it was a happy event.

Fuck Rina for being so motherly. Fuck Jii-chan for the proud smile when you called him Jii-chan to his face. Fuck Mei for the cake, fuck Satsuki for telling everyone about your birthday, fuck Kaede for the hair stuff, way too expensive for you to have ever bought on your own even just to try, and fuck Soba for—no, scratch that, you could never be mad at Soba—but fuck Noya for the gentle, persistent comfort, for the effortless way he explains away the tears in the corners of your eyes when you make it to the school just before one in the morning. (Oh, she's just sleepy. She's been keeping, like, a 7pm bedtime most nights. I almost had to carry her here, you know?)

Also fuck whoever looked at Noya's totally innocent grin and actually gave him permission to sit with you on the bus ride up to Tokyo when he asked.

While you're at it, fuck you for cuddling right up to him and melting into the scent of his shampoo, and most of all, fuck the sunlight for waking you up as you near Saitama, where this week's camp is located. It's too bright, your head hurts, and you have no choice but to bury your face into the soft cotton of your volunteer pillow to block out the light.

He shifts at your movement, and you let out a groan. "What time is it?"

A soft laugh, laced with sleep. "Time to wake up. We're almost there, I think."

You let out a pained whine. "I'm not doin' anything until you flag Sensei down and ask him if I can have some of my painkillers."

"That bad already?" he coos sympathetically. "Are you gonna be alright?"

"Yeah. I think it's just dehydration." You'd cried a lot last night before you had to leave. You're pretty sure this is what a hangover is like. You should see if Mei or Kaede can get you some supplies to test that theory.

A clearing of a throat at the front of the bus. "Alright, we're going to be at Shinzen soon. Those of you who are awake, please take this time to wake up the others! After your things are brought to your rooms, we'll be joining everyone for breakfast, then warmups."

When he's done making his announcement, you feel Noya shift. "Sensei, can [name]-san get some painkillers? She woke up with a headache. She says it's probably dehydration, but the light's bugging her."

"Ah, sure! Shimizu, can you pass this back? Do you two have any water?"

You blindly reach for the bottle, finding it pressed uncomfortably between your hip and the wall of the bus. You shake it at Noya wordlessly.

"We've got some."

You manage to open one eye just in time to see Shimizu turn around in her seat, one row in front of you. She passes the bottle of painkillers over the seat, and Noya takes it with a nod. "We're supposed to help with serving meals," she says, nodding to you. "If you're not feeling up to it, we can make you a meal and let you go until you've rested."

"I'll be okay," you mumble. "The pills should kick in by then."

"If you're sure, but don't push yourself. Do you need help carrying your things upstairs?"

"No," you reply at the same time that Noya says, "yes."

You roll your eyes. "It's fine—"

"Your bag is heavier than it was when you asked me for help carrying it before," he points out. "And you weren't experiencing capital-S Symptoms then, either."

There's a shout from the back of the bus—Hinata is now awake and has just seen his first-ever transmission tower, apparently—that has you cringing and whining pathetically into Noya's chest, tears beading in the corners of your eyes.

He brings a hand up to cover your exposed ear, muffle the sound just a bit. "See? C'mon, let's get those painkillers in you."

You screw your eyes shut, toss your head back with the two pills he's placed in your hand. Choke down the pills and gag on the taste, even when washing it down with a massive swig of water. When you've recovered, you glance back at Shimizu. "I guess I could probably use the help, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course. I'll help you bring your stuff upstairs. Do you think you can handle the stairs right now?"

"I can handle stairs," you grumble.

There's soft laughter rumbling beneath your ear. "She'll be a lot nicer once the pain meds kick in, I promise. Can you pass this back up to Sensei?"

There's a shuffling, and you sip your water, and you wait for the painkillers to kick in. On your way upstairs with the girls, you listen silently as Shimizu tells the other managers about your situation, and you don't even protest when she rattles off a rough list of things they're supposed to stop you from doing if they catch you.

You just have to not let them catch you.

~

Damn it all, you make it through helping serve everyone at breakfast, and with great determination, you even manage to convince everyone that you can at least make it to lunch before you have to take a nap and sleep off the headache. The painkillers are a huge help in this—they soothe you just enough to get everyone to let you sit in the gym and watch as the training camp kicks off in full swing. Takeda had demanded you sit in a chair, but at least you're allowed to be there at all.

In contrast to the previous training camp, Shinzen's training camp has the losing team take a penalty run up the hill outside the gym, a feat which you're not sure you could stand even without the concussion. You have the odd sense that the boys are going to be doing it a lot this week.

With Shimizu on one side of you and Coach Ukai standing on the other to protect you from any strays, you settle in to watch the first set of the day. The boys are up against Fukurodani, that school with the loud ace, and Hinata and Kageyama are back on the same side of the net again.

"I haven't been around as much because of my head," you mutter as you watch them take their places. "Have they played together at all since they started fighting?"

Coach Ukai shakes his head. "I'd been giving them the chance to work on their own stuff without getting at each other's throats, but I figure a few weeks is probably enough time. We'll see how they do today."

You nod. "I'm pretty sure I can guilt them into knocking it off if they start fighting again. You know, all things considered."

He laughs. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

The set begins. You set about taking notes as they kick off—the team composition for each set, compared against how they actually do. Shimizu's taking the real stats, so you can basically do what you want, at any rate. Fukurodani serves, Noya moves, and the ball goes right to Kageyama as always. For half a second, it's like nothing's changed—a clean receive, Hinata swooping in to spike, Kageyama already ready for him.

And then the ball hits the floor.

You bite back a laugh as Hinata lands, back of his head to you as he stares at Kageyama. Kageyama, for his part, looks reasonably embarrassed, cheeks flushed as he avoids eye contact.

They regroup. Another serve from Fukurodani, another clean receive. In the margins, you start a tally for points lost to mistakes, and you make your first mark in the column just as the next toss sails straight past Hinata. You prepare for the second mark, but then Hinata moves—calm, collected, his left hand coming up to bump the ball just barely over the net. He lands firmly on his ass, staring up at Kageyama, who stares right back at him.

"He would have panicked before," Shimizu comments with wide eyes.

You nod.

They've both changed a lot over the past few weeks, but it isn't just Hinata and Kageyama. Though it goes out, Azumane blasts out a pretty strong jump serve, clicks his tongue in frustration when the ref's whistle blows. Your margin tallies overtake the page quickly—Suga setting with the wrong timing during the synchronized attack, Yamaguchi's jump float not quite floating, Noya jumping too far for the jump set.

When he glares at you heatlessly, cheeks red, at the sound of your mostly-stifled laugh, you raise up both hands in a show of innocence. "I didn't say anything!" you mouth to him with a wry little smile. He rolls his eyes, and both of you turn back to your own roles.

It's just a touch embarrassing to watch them screw up repeatedly, and your rage pricks up at hearing a coach from another team quietly comment on how wonderfully out-of-sync they are (they're your guys to tease about screw-ups!), but you keep your tallies and keep your mouth shut.

He won't be laughing when it all comes together. He won't be laughing then at all.

~

You make it a whole hour after lunch just fine. As expected, the guys are losing repeatedly, but at least it's less "getting their asses handed to them" and more "valiantly struggling", compared to last time. It seems very valiant when you watch them run up the hill, shouting at the top of their lungs, anyway.

"At least they're keeping their spirits up," Yachi notes with a sigh.

"I don't know how they do it." You let out a sigh of your own, shaking the last of the prepared bottles. "The yelling or the running. It's like they're a whole different breed."

You really wish they'd stop yelling, actually. The painkillers are starting to wear off, and you can definitely tell. Half of you almost wants to go up to the room and take a nap, but the other half of you categorically refuses to be a child who needs a regular naptime, and that half is much, much louder.

So you grit your teeth. You pass out water bottles and hope your smile looks natural. You avoid Noya a little bit because you know that he's started figuring out what it looks like when you're pretending your head doesn't hurt, and you subtly point Shimizu in his direction so you can get distracted with someone else before he can monopolize you.

"How're you feeling?" you ask Hinata as he accepts a water bottle from you. "You sound like you've still got energy."

He catches his breath, nods his thanks. "I can keep going. Kageyama's acting weird, though."

You tilt your head. "Do you mean the new set? He's been working on it since you guys got in that fight, I think. You're different, yourself, though."

"You think so?" he lets out a nervous laugh, cheeks turning a little pink. "Well, I've been practicing really hard at Old Coach Ukai's place. Is it actually noticeable?"

"Definitely. Once everyone starts coming together and locking in, you guys are gonna do great."

"T-thank you!" He bows.

You wave it off with a nervous laugh of your own. "You don't need to make such a big deal of it. All I can really do is observe, so I'm observing, that's all."

"Ah! Speaking of that…" He straightens up, peers at you. "You look really pale today. Is your head bothering you?"

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit.

"My head's fine!" Stop pitching your voice, dumbass. "It's probably just the painkillers wearing off."

"Hmm, if your painkillers are wearing off, aren't you supposed to go rest or something? It's not good to push yourself while you're still recovering." He actually pouts at you. Fucker.

"Come on, Hinata, you gotta be on my side here—"

"She is supposed to go rest," Noya says from behind you.

You jolt. Drop your shoulders. Sigh. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Nope. Go try to sleep."

"You're the worst."

"And you're concussed. Go."

No amount of arguing gets you anywhere. Not with Noya, though you appreciate his pout as he demands you take care of yourself.³⁴ You wave them off as they return inside for the next set and find your way back to the girls' room for a nap.

~

There is a level of ballsy required of any man to traverse the expanse of the cafeteria at dinner and walk right up to the managers' table without issue, and maybe if it had been anyone but Yuu, it would have been a level beyond him. At least, he gets that impression from the eyes on his back as he approaches the girls. They sit at a whole separate table, one of the only rounded tables in the room, chatting and smiling as though the sole source of light in the entire camp.

The girls fall quiet as he walks up, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Kiyoko-san, Yachi-san. Has [name]-san come down at all since she went upstairs to nap?"

They share a look. "She hasn't, no."

He sighs. "Figures. Do you think the teachers will be mad if I bring some food up to her?"

Kiyoko hums. "They probably won't be mad about bringing her food, given the situation, but you being alone with her in the girls' room is a little…"

"Could someone come with me, then? Her concussion naps will go until morning if I just let her sleep, and she needs to eat."

One of the managers from another school—the cute one with the black pigtails and the Ubugawa shirt—raises her hand. "I don't mind grabbing a serving from the kitchen for her and chaperoning."

Shimizu flashes her an angelic smile. "Are you sure, Miyanoshita-san?³⁵ It'd be a big help."

"Yeah, it's no issue! I'm done eating, anyway."

He bows slightly. "Thank you! I really appreciate this!"

She gets up, waves to the other managers, and wanders into the kitchen with him.

~

Eri guides him up to the girls' room without complaint. She's not really sure what to say to this Nishinoya guy—she vaguely remembers him as Karasuno's libero, pretty good, pretty loud—but he seems happy to lead the conversation if she'll just lead the way.

"Miyanoshita-san, right?" he asks as they round the staircase onto the third floor. "Thanks again for this. She can be a little grumpy when she wakes up, so sorry if she's a little rude."

She laughs. "No, don't worry about it! I totally get it. Are you close with [name]-chan?"

The guy laughs back, smiles fondly. "Yeah. She's been staying at my place since she got hurt. I've been taking alright care of her, I think."

"I'm a little jealous," she admits. "It must be nice to have someone like that around. I'm sure she appreciates it."

His eyes are somewhere else when she pauses at the doorway. "Yeah, I think she does."

He takes the plate and slips inside, beelines towards the one occupied futon that you've dragged into the darkest possible corner of the room. She waits by the doorway, takes a moment to check her phone while he shakes you awake.

"Hey there," he says, voice low and soft.

This is… fundamentally a different guy from the libero she watched playing against Ubugawa earlier. He'd gone from shouty and bouncy to this: resting on his knees and stifling a laugh at your sleepy whining. She really is a little jealous.

"S'npai?" you mumble.

"Yeah. Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. Time to get up."

She eyes the scene with amusement, taps out a text to the Fukurodani Group Managers group chat—they should really get you, Hitoka, and Shimizu in on it before the camp is over—as what little of your face was visible disappears under the blanket.

Eri to Fukurodani Group Managers!!! at 19:35

Eri: [name]-chan's bf is ADORABLE with her omg

Eri: currently watching him wake her up by petting her like a cat

"C'mon, [name]-san. You've slept for like… four or five hours. You gotta eat something."

Another whine. "It's like you don't even like me."

"Complain all you want, but I'm gonna get real annoying if you don't eat something. You don't even have to do anything but sit up and chew. I'll feed you."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

…he's pretty much forgotten she's here, hasn't he?

Eri: he just offered to hand-feed her dinner if she'll just sit up

Yukie: oh my god I'm so jealous

Yukie: where is MY doting bf who will hand-feed me my dinner and stroke my hair wtf

Eri: he said she's been staying with him since her concussion and he's been taking care of her this whole time

She glances up. Nishinoya's managed to get you to sit up, which looks a lot like you immediately pressing into his side, eyes still closed but muttering complaints as you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're the one who made me go nap."

"You needed it, or you wouldn't have slept so long. Come on, open."

Eri: doting libero bf now hand-feeding her while she rests her head on his shoulder

Mako: SHIMIZU-SAN AND YACCHAN SAID THEY'RE NOT ACTUALLY DATING???

Eri: WHAT

Eri: are they ABSOLUTELY SURE???

Eri: they're like. Full on cuddling right now. She's got her arms around him and everything

Eri: he saw her and immediately forgot I was here

Eri: he's now playing with her hair and talking too softly to her for me to hear

Mako has added Shimizu and Yachi to Fukurodani Group Managers!!!

Shimizu: they really aren't dating

Shimizu: but he has proposed to her a few times

Eri: …a few???

Yachi: more than a hundred, I think? They have a bet

She watches incredulously as Nishinoya raises a bite of food to your lips, as you turn your face into your shoulder as you chew.

He laughs. "Marry me."

"Eight hundred eighty-nine," you mumble into his shoulder.

Eri: what's the bet? He just proposed again and she said 889

Shimizu: she'll actually marry him if he proposes 889 more times

Yachi: if he proposes 1000 times total she'll marry him

Eri: so they're ENGAGED???

Shimizu: no, as far as I can tell they're just friends outside of the proposal thing

Eri: …there's no way

She watches in disbelief as he continues to feed you, until you've eaten your dinner without lifting a finger. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Marry me, and sure."

"Ask me another 888 times and I will."

He laughs softly. "You're gonna be awake for a while at that rate. Sure you don't want to lower the quota for me?"

"If you don't lemme sleep I'm gonna raise the quota."

"I'd love to let you sleep, but you probably wanna actually get up and, like, shower and get ready for real bed first."

"But if I move it's gonna take forever to fall asleep again," you pout. "I don't have my cuddle buddy up here."

"Aw, is it hard to sleep without me?" he teases. "I can let you borrow my jacket to sleep better."

"I mean Soba, you ass."

"Really? You haven't been falling asleep with Soba recently."

Eri: THEY HAVE SLEPT IN THE SAME BED AT LEAST ONCE. ARE YOU SURE THEY ARE NOT DATING

Shimizu: …they did seem to get a lot closer after the concussion…

Yachi: she would have said something, right???

Shimizu: nishinoya would have told the entire team and also everyone at this camp if they had made it official

Shimizu: he probably would have ended up on the news somehow

She stifles a laugh. It's about that moment that both you and your boyfriend-not-boyfriend seem to remember/realize she's there, and you fully freeze, staring at her with a deer-in-headlights look.

"Oh. Hi," you say, voice pitching a bit higher than normal. "Miyanoshita-san. Have you been there this whole time?"

She waves with a sheepish smile. "I'm chaperoning. Shimizu-san said it might not be good if he were caught alone with you in the girls' room, even if there is a really good reason for it. You can ignore me."

"N-no, uh, I should probably get up and shower and stuff anyway."

"Thanks again, Miyanoshita-san!" Nishinoya grins, blinding. He looks back to you, his edges softened. "Are you going to be good to do everything you need to, or are you dizzy again?"

"I'm fine," you grumble. "I slept the headache off."

"Alright, then I'll take this back to the cafeteria before it closes."

"'Kay. G'night, Senpai."

Eri to Fukurodani Group Managers!!! at 20:32

Eri: I think I need them to get married actually

~

Freshly-washed, still exhausted, and determined to go back to sleep though you are, you slump into your futon that night with all the grace of a sack of flour. Before you can settle in, you shift uncomfortably—there's the press of a zipper into your side where you lay. You wriggle the offending jacket out from underneath you, and—oh goddammit. You recognize the smell of that cologne.

[name] to Noya at 21:01

[name]: oh you are NOT slick mister

[name]: take your stupid jacket back!!!

Noya: gee it's too bad I'm already on the guys' floor for the night and we're thirty minutes to lights out

Noya: if one of us were caught on the wrong floor this late we'd probably get in a ton of trouble with the teachers

Noya: I guess you'll just have to give it back to me tomorrow

[name]: >:(

[name]: fine, but you owe me a soba

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Noya laying down in bed, your head resting on his chest. Soba has wriggled her way underneath the arm you've slung over Noya's torso, and Noya's face is half-buried in your hair.]

Noya: sweet dreams :)

…his jacket is softer than yours, better worn-in, and smells nicer. You wouldn't know, though. It's not like you cuddled it to sleep or anything.

Footnotes

34. I think about pouty, grumpy Noya in s2e13 a lot.

35. Miyanoshita is actually the only manager who Shimizu refers to by name outside of Karasuno, in s2e11 around ten minutes in. I've used this one line as the template for All Shimizu inter-school manager interactions.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @kazunish

[gryphonlover]

It’s “appreciate yourself” hours! Pick five pieces of writing that you’ve done that you love and talk about them! ❤️❤️❤️

Oh boy, I was not expecting this when I opened my inbox. 😅 At this point, I've got 25 works tagged under Linked Universe (including the translations), which feels like a lot. But I think 5 works makes a decent sampler.

Light a Candle is definitely one of my favorites. It was actually supposed to be a gift fic for you, but I was too shy to tag it as a gift fic at the time, so I just posted it and hoped you saw it. It's also a very sentimental piece for me because it's based off of a personal experience I had, and I wanted to capture that beautiful moment of friendship and brotherhood in writing.

The Doll of Resurrection was my first mature fic. I was very nervous at first, because I hadn't written or posted something like that before, but I think it came out very well, and now I've got a companion piece in the works. I don't know what else to say about this except that I plan to keep writing death scenes that emphasize gentleness and loving kindness.

Dead Weight is part 6 of Emotional Support Loftwing, and probably my favorite of the series thus far, simply because I think I did the best on it in comparison to the others. I've been pretty pleased with the response in the comments because there were a few things I did on purpose there, and they noticed, which means I was successful.

Troubled Waters was very self-indulgent. I just wanted to write something where I could drown Hyrule, so I did. Personally, I feel like it's one of my more unique pieces because I haven't seen many angsty fics set in Wind's era. I was also able to avoid the topic of cremation, which I'm quite proud of given the existence of Hyrule's blood curse thing he's got going on.

It's Fine, Don't Worry About It, is my main ongoing project at the moment. It's not actually finished yet, but it's one of the fics I've enjoyed working on the most so far. Around July, I started feeling a lot happier and more confident with my writing, and I like to think that it shows in this piece. Especially since I've been trying to convey a lot of complex emotions and hint at some of my headcanons through different characters' POVs.

[writersmorgue]

i was correct

this is not gonna be fun

[frostgears]

We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 6: Bree 4

Bree found herself staring over another railing. Instead of a frigid ocean, this one kept her from a two-kilometer drop. But oh, the view…

The sun rose behind her, glinting gold off a chain of mountain lakes and glowing through snowpack, leaving shadowed forested valleys alone with a promise of deeper greens later in the day. Worth protecting, she thought, and then, is this bit even mine? Nobody had yet gone to the trouble of painting red lines on the ground visible from airships. She couldn't tell Pact from Kingdom from unaligned from wilderness up here.

"Can't believe you used to be a little bratty underclasswoman," Emmerline said from behind her.

Bree turned, arranged her face in an approximation of an actual smile instead of an unsettling grin. "I was never a brat," she responded. "Best behavior at all times. Scholarship to maintain."

"Sure you were. Always got the last word in lecture and the first move on the dance floor. I was just thinking that you look so fucking dignified now."

"Hah. You want to know something horrifying that I picked up from the Fist?"

"You had me at 'horrifying'," Emmerline said.

"Ghoul."

Emmerline grinned, warmly, invitingly, a grin sculpted by a dozen generations of posh ancestry to produce one dangerously handsome woman. "Spill it," she said.

"You know they're calling me 'Bree the Blessed' now?"

"Get out. The Fist is?"

"They are. I'm sure they didn't invent it. The Fist idiot reading off the charges said 'commonly known as Bree the Blessed' right before they announced they were there to kill me."

"Well, that's a step up from 'Bree the Bodiless'. Which was never true anyway! You have a body."

"Mmm, yeah," Bree said, "that's what's got me brooding off the port bow of the Eternal Blue, as it happens. It's… I'm… I don't know. I think I'm starting to like it."

"We should all be so lucky,"

"I'm serious!"

"So am I. I don't get the problem."

"The body comes with certain habits. Or thoughts. You said 'dignified', right?"

"Yes, and I also said you used to be a huge brat. Couldn't go five minutes without starting something. Now you seem, I don't know, calmer. You've been hanging out at the bow for hours now, doing what, watching the clouds and thinking deep thoughts? Plus you look like you were born to have that cloak flap dramatically in the breeze. Well. Not born, I suppose. But it suits you either way."

"Em, this isn't me! I'm not sure what is me and what's the doll body and what's from the compulsions and constraints and bindings it was crafted with."

"You sure you didn't just grow up a bit?"

Bree tensed all of her frame actuators in frustration.

"I'd be more sure if I hadn't helped Coda build a few dozen like it with the same service compulsions. Mostly in the parts I can't swap out."

"Ah."

"I can practically feel the need to be a good helpful little… servant," she said, stopping "maid" just before it escaped her voice box. "And I don't know how far it extends! None of the dolls would ever have serious magic, power, allies, all the things I have, so I have no idea what'd happen if one got them! Am I only running around protecting the Kingdom because a bunch of control spells are woven into the pretty little reliquary where my brain should be? Or because that damned archon laid something even worse on it?"

Emmerline tilted her head, appraising.

"Bree. Darling. Two things. One: I'm under no such compulsions. I tracked you down, remember, after you saved my life? I'm here of my own free will." Emmerline held up a finger, then held up another. "So's Nost."

"Please. The way she looks at me. The things I've done to her—"

"It's a small airship. I've heard them. Has one of them been talking? Because I've had more than a few chats with her while waiting for your return. As obviously submissive as she is, Bree, as unassuming and as self-effacing as she can be, it's easy to forget that she's older and more experienced than either of us. She's been with good and bad partners, she's completely capable of choosing for herself. Oh, she also wants your body, but that's just her being an artificer."

"What about Zai?"

"Hmm, yes, Zai," Emmerline put up a third finger, furrowed her brow. "I have no idea. Is she here because she believes in you enough to go rogue, or is she the king's loyal servant, ready to stab us in our backs the instant we try something that Royal Intelligence wouldn't like? Sorry. Can't illuminate the bottom of that swamp," she said cheerily. "But that brings me to my second point: Zai's here and making herself useful because you started a fight with one of the great powers of the world, and by some measures, you are winning. How many of your dolls went and did that?"

Bree laughed, and turned from the rail. "Okay. Okay. Just me, so far. You might have a point."

"And you might still be a dramatic brat. Just a successful one. Stop questioning why everything, focus on how and when and where and what next and keeping the demon-fuckers in the Pact busy. Keep doing that and I'll back you up with all I've got."

"I'm not your underclasswoman any more, Em, I didn't even graduate. And we're a long way from the Academy now."

"Eh. Close enough. We Academy girls gotta stick together."

She offered a hand. Bree took it. Em pulled her, with some effort, into a hug.

"Did Zai put you up to this?" Bree said softly into Emmerline's ear.

"She only said you were moping near the bow."

"Not moping. Just… being. Promise."

"She did, however, have a suggestion for our next port of call."

---

"So you were able to get something out of those letters!" Bree cheered. "Nice. Thought our last excursion before I went north had been a bust."

"She helped," Zai said, jerking her head in Emmerline's direction.

"I recognized a phrase, that's all. Our pet spook had the first few words of the key worked out, and I just happened to remember the epigraph of 'Four Flowers on the Wind'. Funny that they used a Kingdom novel to key their code."

"You saved me at least a week, on that letter alone. And the reason they used a Kingdom novel is because it'd look strange to be caught with Pact literature. Now, the letter named a target for the squad you took it off two months ago, and Bree, you left them unable to exfiltrate and report?"

Bree nodded. "I did ask. Same as always. One chance, put your weapons down, walk away. No takers."

"I envy your ability to make the offer," Zai said suddenly. "You're strong, you can give them that one chance, knowing they'll almost certainly not take it. I'm weak, I fear giving my enemies anything, and I'll kill them before I offer them the chance to kill me." The spy had a pained expression.

"You wouldn't want to be a doll, Zai," Bree said. "Or would you? I'm not sure I'd recommend it."

The spy shook her head, her hair-bun wobbling side to side. "I think not. I've honed my own body; it does what I need." She pursed her lips briefly. "For now. Anyway, the letter: they're meant to converge three heavy squads at the Turquoise flower show, and the Pact noble Marchioness Miriya of Rostalpan is to be executed by the Fist, for the crime of collaboration with the Kingdom, in front of all the mingling aristos from both sides. Apparently Miriya loves flowers. She'd be an example for any other aspiring collaborators: don't even think about the other side of the fence."

"Is she a collaborator?"

"Not sure. Doesn't matter. We have the means and opportunity to visit Turquoise, and look like we're meant to be there right up until we counter-ambush the Fist."

"Miriya. Miriya," Bree said. "Heard that name before, I think. What do you know about her, Zai? Em?"

"Rostalpan is a poor march and house by the standards of human Pact nobility. No demonic patronage. That's all the Service knew when I left," the spy said, "a two-line entry in the Big Book. Didn't rate anything in the Little Book."

"Artist," Emmerline chimed in. "Landscapes. Competent, not brilliant, unless she's evolved spectacularly."

"You know her?" Bree asked. "Would she recognize you?"

"Not likely, since this was way back during the last peace treaty. My father took me to the cultural exchange. Said the peace would be no doubt over soon, but that I should learn what I could."

"And that was what you took away?" Zai asked.

"I was thirteen. What fine points of international politics do you remember from when you were thirteen?"

"At thirteen? I was in His Majesty's Reformatory for Wayward Youths for the crime of frightening a dauphin's horse with my screams after he ran me down in the street, maimed my brother, and broke my leg."

"Gods, you never said! And you're on our side?"

"What side?" Zai shrugged. "That dauphin will get his someday. Preferably slowly. The rest of you parasites will give up their riches or die. Meanwhile, I don't want to see my neighbors die to war and then demons than you, or the doll. So we work together, yes?"

Emmerline stared. She winced. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Then, "Yes," she said, and stuck out a hand.

"Right." Zai clasped it briefly, let go. "Bree, do you need help reconfiguring yourself? Should we go fetch Nost?"

"Oh good, you haven't forgotten about 'the doll'. Yes, please," Bree said, "it's much faster that way. But full briefing first. I don't think she's going to like it."

---

"So, Zai, you're serious about this? You want to have Em make an appearance at this resort town? To do what?"

"Turquoise is at a triple boundary between the Kingdom, the Pact, and the Gulf of Pearls. Neutral. Full of aristos from both sides, on vacation and behaving badly. We're going to visit to catch the famous yearly flower show and cozy up to this Marchioness before the Crimson Fist does. Em is once again Lady Emmerline Dupree, second daughter of House Dupree, still on her increasingly lengthy gap year between Academy graduation and royal service. Bree and I are her servants."

"This is going to burn Em," Nost said.

"Had to happen sometime," Emmerline snorted. "Last chance to clean out the family coffers, raid the closets, and steal the silverware. Least it's for a good cause."

"All right. What about me?"

"You're known to too many Pact security elements. You stay with the ship, as backup."

"And Bree isn't known?" Nost asked. "They have a whole list of epithets for her."

"Not… in my old body," Bree said, looking to Zai, who nodded.

"Her old body?" Nost blanched. "As in… no, you said the archon took that one. Which means… No. No no no. Bree, you can't. Everything we've built together, you won't have it!"

Bree grinned. Her grin left some humanity to be desired. Someone had told her that it never reached her eyes, given that even her current face didn't have the fine articulation she'd need to match human skin. It also displayed far too many teeth, which she'd added an extra row of, just because. Pity the teeth would need to stay with this head.

"Hey," she said, "Originally? I was literally 'maid' for the job. Get it?"

---

prev: We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 5: Bree 3

next: We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 7: Bree 5

[mrs-santoss]

Impossible - Neymar Imagine

Summary: An imagine where Neymar and y/n play in the same team? I know it’s not possible in real life, but maybe here :) Author's note: This was kind of challenging since this isn't possible in real life, to my knowledge lol. I tried to make sense of it as much as possible.Let me know if you want this a series about the other games to come mentioned on the story. I met Neymar at Le Parc des Princes during trainings. The women's team and the men's team had a training day together. We got along very well that day. We exchanged numbers and went out on a date three days later. He became my boyfriend after one month of dating. Now, we don’t experience training together as often.

Yesterday, our coach informed us about an organization going on with PSG where the men’s and women’s team will organize a few games together for charity purposes. I will have a chance to play with Neymar, either against him or on the same team with him.

I’m in the guest team’s locker room since the guys occupied the other one. We are getting ready to go on the field. To my luck, I will be teaming up with Ney, my best friend from my team and a couple of guys and girls. Based on the selection, I’m sure we can win all the five games for this competition.

I reach the hall to the entrance of the stadium and I spot Neymar who was already there waiting for his teammates.

Neymar’s POV:

I was teamed up with Y/N for this game. I’m kind of excited, not going to lie. I’ve seen her play before and she’s amazing. I was also relieved she is on my team, I will try not to put her on the spot since the guys can be pretty rough sometimes and injure her. She is forward and I’m striking.

I see her walking to me from the locker room. She was also excited, she smiled the whole ride here.

“Heyy, amor. Are you ready to play?” I ask her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, bebê. I’m very excited. How about you?” she asks me with her hands around my waist hugging me.

“I’m excited too, amor. But, please, remember this is a friendly game, don't push too hard, I don't want you to get injured." I say back to her, kissing her forehead and get let go from the hug.

"Of course, bebê. You be careful too." she says back before we get ready to go on the field. The game starts and everything is going great. I score a goal on the first 20 minutes, Y/N also does a few good shots but misses. There were a few moments during the game where she was pushed a lot by the guys and It made me mad. I mean, come on, it's just a friendly game. The other team scores a goal, making it a tie. Y/N and I have a very good chemistry on the field. I know this because we train a lot together at home, so I was confident we will win it. "Ney, run forward! she yells to me, I run forward and she does an AMAZING pass to me and I score. I run to her and pick her up in my arms kissing her, we do a group hug after. The other half goes great too. Y/N scores another goal for us from the free kick, I wanted her to have that one even though she asked me to do it. The game ends and we hug each other goodbye. We take a few photos with everyone who attended the game. We will have the next one in a week. This is supposed to be some charity event that will last for a month. After I'm done with the shower and getting dressed, I say goodbye the everyone and go to meet Y/N in the hallway waiting for me to go home. "That was a good game, bebê. I had so much funn!!" she says to me with an excitement running up to me, she seems like she's well rested and didn't run for almost 2 hours. "Me too amor. You were amazing" I say back to her while we make our way to the exit. " I can't wait to go home and crash on the bed with you, we the rest of the day in bed." "Yeah, me too, Ney. I think we should order tacos, I thought about that a lot during the second half." she says to me very innocently. "Oh, so you thought about food, that's what got you going on the second half!!" I say back to her, teasing her and pinching her waist. "Ohh, yeah for sure! And you! You sweaty, mama like it!! she says and winks at me. "Is that soo?! Do you want to see me like that again later?" I say back to her, pulling by the waist her for a kiss . "Hmm, maybe!" Note: Let me know if you want this a series about the other games to come mentioned on the story.

[cha-melodius]

Year in Review: Favorite Lines

Tagged by @kiwiana-writes and @firenati0n, and I didn't originally think I'd do this because it's so fucking hard, but I was bored out of my skull and didn't feel like writing, so here goes. I waited until after creators were revealed for the TMFU exchange to post this because one of my favorite lines this year came from that fic. I could not limit to three or five or whatever so you get how many you get lmao.

If you're wondering why there are no lines from Nova, Baby, it's because 1) there are far too many, and 2) the ones I'd like to quote are mostly super spoilery. Read the fic, I guess! 😂

RULES: feel free to share your top three/five/however many favorite snippet(s)/line/quotes/paragraphs from your published fics (or wips!).

From Playing Cat and Mouse with the Light (Napollya, E, 12k)

Illya’s thaw toward him had been slow, like a reticent spring that warms a frozen lake so gradually that you don’t realize the ice underneath your feet has thinned until the catastrophic crack that sends you plunging into the depths. That’s what this feels like. Shattering.

From Step Into My Office, Baby (Firstprince, E, 2.4k)

Alex winds his fingers into Henry’s collar and buries his face in his neck, and it’s all Henry can do to hang on like he’s clinging to a life preserver in a storm. Except somehow, Alex is both the life preserver and the storm.

From All Comes Crashing (Napollya, E, 5.6k)

“I hate this,” Napoleon says, his voice thick with emotion, “but I love you, so I guess I’ll take it.”

From This Hell of a Season (Firstprince, E, 21k)

If he were a writer, he would write a thousand poems and never come close to capturing it; as a painter, he’d spend hours—days, weeks—on the curve of jaw and never be satisfied; even the finest photographer would still struggle with the fact that a single image could never capture the vibrancy of him.

(also from the same fic)

No matter where they are—at home in their flat in Langley or standing outside a hut in the middle of a Mexican forest—all he really needs is this. Alex in his arms. The heat of Alex’s skin pressed to his. Alex’s heart, beating in time with his.

From Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood (Firstprince, E, 20k)

In. Out. Henry’s hands are warm and soft where they grip his. Alex doesn’t know if he realizes he’s swiping his thumb over the back of Alex’s hand. In. Out. Their faces shift, bringing the bridges of their noses together. In. Out. Henry’s warm breath washes over his skin and paradoxically makes goosebumps rise on his arms. In. Out. The air he’s breathing in feels thicker, honeyed, heavy like the atmosphere before a storm. In. Out. “Excellently done,” Dr. Chen says, and the words yank him back to reality like coming to the surface after swimming underwater.

From Falling Down the Stairs of Your Smile (Firstprince, M, 4.1k)

The press of Henry’s lips to his, the way their mouths slot together as easily as if they’ve been doing this for years, the zip of electricity that fizzles under his skin and spreads out to tingle in the tips of his fingers and toes… Alex has never been kissed like this, has never felt like this being kissed, and it’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Like he’s falling. Oh. Fuck.

From Black Moon (Napollya, E, 6k)

If this was supposed to be a release, it didn’t work—or rather it did, but only in the way that releasing steam from an over-pressurized system prevents imminent explosion. The pressure is still there, the need is still there, in some ways worse than it was before.

From Will You Brie Mine? (Firstprince, T, 5.8k)

The longer they kiss, the more he realizes that there’s something else that’s different about this kiss: it feels, unmistakably, like the last first kiss he’s ever going to have.

From Lessons in Foreign Diplomacy (Firstprince, E, 5.4k)

“I think,” Henry gets out tightly, “that you’re stubborn—” Alex bites down on the tender skin at the crease of his hip. “—opinionated—” A slow lick up the length of his shaft. “—arrogant—” A hot breath, ghosting over the crown. “—uncouth—” Alex curls his fingers, and Henry whimpers as his spine arches up off the bed. “—and if you don’t get inside me right now, I’m going to stonewall all of your treaty negotiations for the next month.”

From Something To Be Proud Of (Firstprince, M, 3.4k)

No one jumps out to call him out for being an impostor. Henry offers him a careful smile, then turns back to his work like he knows Alex needs a moment to himself. He lets his fingers rub over the surface of the pin, feeling the little enamel ridges, and something settles under his skin, like an itch he hadn’t even been aware of until it was gone.

From Always Where I Need To Be (Firstprince, T, 5.5k)

He thinks about how Henry is the last person he wants to talk to at night, and the first person he wants to see in the morning. He thinks about how making Henry laugh has become a significant reason that Alex does anything these days. He thinks about how he’d dropped everything to make sure Henry was all right, and how he’d do it again in an instant. He thinks about how he can’t really get enough of how Henry smells, the way the clean, grassiness that Alex always kind of assumed was part of his cologne had clung to him on a day when he hadn’t even gotten out of bed. He thinks about how perfect Henry had felt in his arms, and how he’d put up with a lifetime of his arm going numb every night if it meant Henry was sleeping next to him.

From Cold Light (Lokius, M, 3.7k)

“Tell me about your mother,” Mobius says. “If you want.” Loki smiles softly at him, and there, under the breathtaking northern lights, he tells a story.

[a-aexotic]

heyyy i love your imagines so much can you write another katniss x female reader one? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

—cw: unedited 😐😐, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, kissing, idk what else LMAO just fluff

—a/n: hii!! thank u sm i love katniss she is actually my fav to write for LMFAOO im glad u requested this <3 i'm gonna write fluff this time, this is after the games!!!!!!!!! also i don't really have any knowledge about what exactly happens after mockingjay so this isn't exactly canon! ok enjoy LMFAO

Y/N WAS IN THE KITCHEN, PREPARING SOME DINNER. It was almost 5 pm and Katniss wasn't home, she was beginning to worry. She was out hunting, needing her time alone. She was supposed to be home almost an hour ago but she was taking her sweet time.

Usually, Y/N wouldn't mind Katniss taking longer hunting but she needed help with dinner because Haymitch and Effie were coming to eat. Y/N heard footsteps coming from the door, and it unlocks and she turns to see a very dirty Katniss. Dirt and mud dripping off her clothes.

Y/N's eyes widened and she gasped, she just cleaned the floors! "Katniss!" She ran up to her, checking her face for any sign of injury.

"I'm fine, just fell in some dirt." She put her hunting gear down, and sniffed the air with a delighted expression. "What's for dinner, princess?"

"Tomato soup and garlic bread, of course. It's Haymitch's favorite, he'll be very excited for it." Y/N walked back into the kitchen, Katniss following with a confused face.

"Why?" Katniss tried to sit down in the dining table but was grabbed by her girlfriend, disapproval on her face.

"Did you forget? Effie and Haymitch are coming down for dinner! I told you five times, Kitty, how could you forget?" Y/N tutted disappointingly. Katniss shrugged.

"Guess it slipped my mine, dear. Sorry. What can I do to make it up?" Katniss had a knowing look on her face, a smirk spreading her lips as Y/N shook her head, smiling.

"Help me with dinner first, Kitty. But first, clean up and come down as soon as you're done. They're coming at 6:30 so we better hurry."

Katniss sighed and nodded, going up for a quick shower. Y/N was pretty bored as she cleaned the mess that her girlfriend had made so she decided to put on some music.

As Katniss walked down, done with her shower. She saw Y/N finishing up dinner and she was suddenly overcome with contentment. She truly loved Y/N, and she looked so darn cute in that apron and pretty dress. Katniss's mouth morphed into a huge smile.

She looked so pretty with her hair made and a nice dress on. But no matter what Y/N looked like, Katniss would always think she was the most gorgeous lady in the world.

Katniss walked over and put her hand on her cheek, planting a quick kiss on her lips. "You look so pretty, honey."

Y/N blushed, looking down. They've been together for years but Katniss still made her blush like a schoolgirl seeing her crush. "Thank you, Kitty."

As if on cue, Katniss and Y/N's song came. Ain't no mountain high enough' by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell started playing and Y/N started laughing at how perfect this moment was.

Katniss grabbed her hand, twirling Y/N making her laugh even more. Katniss started singing loudly as they danced in the kitchen.

Listen, baby Ain't no mountain high Ain't no valley low Ain't no river wide enough, baby

Katniss sang Marvin's part very passionately, Y/N was laughing at her girlfriend as she sang along with Tammi's. They started setting the table as they danced.

If you're ever in trouble I'll be there on the double Just send for me, oh baby, ha My love is alive (Hoo) Way down in my heart Although we are miles apart If you ever need a helping hand

Katniss grabbed Y/N's shoulders as they sung loudly together. As the song ended they both started laughing loudly, crashing into the dining table chairs, sighing contently. "I love you, Kitty."

It was Katniss' turn to blush. "Love you more, gorgeous."

They heard a knock at the door and Y/N quickly got up, fixing her dress and taking off her apron. Katniss watched in admiration. She looked back at her, "Do I look alright-"

"You look more than alright, babe, you look stunning." Katniss smiled and took her hand, walking to the door to greet Haymitch and Effie.