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ace-turned-confused · 5 months

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whatever you want | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

summary: date night for you and Joel but we skip to the good part word count: 3,2k warnings: 18+ only, POV changes, no plot in sight, reader has no physical descriptions other than clothing, established relationship, pet names, smut, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, butt stuff, spitting, creampie, praise kink, panty kink, size kink, Joel’s filthy mouth a/n: this is the first thing i've written that's actually made it out the doc before being trashed forever - big thanks to my irl bestie for her continuous words of encouragement <3 this is very mildly edited because i'll hate it if i keep trying to improve it ✌️ i'd appreciate any feedback! again pls be nice thank you love you

You've been looking forward to this all week — date night with Joel. You usually stick to something simple, going out for a cosy dinner or just deciding to cook together at home — but he always ensures it’s a memorable night in one way or another, and tonight is no exception.

He suggested to you earlier in the week, lying in bed, “How ‘bout this time you pick out something for me to wear? Hm?” It had your mind racing with ideas, thinking about all the possibilities now presented to you.

You glance at him, “So what’s in it for you, then?”

“No ulterior motive here, sweetheart,” he puts his palms up near his face and smirks, “You always look pretty for me, I just thought I’d return the favour.”

“Hm, that’s a big decision,” you mutter with a playful smile.

You’re well aware of what Joel loves seeing you wear — he’s always loved anything you wear, to be frank, racy or not — and decided to pose a deal to him, something you knew you’d both benefit from.

“I may have some ideas. Why don’t we make a deal, then?” you inch closer to him and play with a stray lock of his hair. “You do something for me, and I’ll do something for you.” Your eyes meet and you can tell he’s trying to figure out the game you’re playing.

“And what would that entail?” he asks, a hint of cockiness in his voice, impressed by your unusual boldness. You remove your hand from his hair and drape your arm over him.

“Will you wear that red shirt again… with the sleeves rolled up?” you ask shyly, trailing your fingers up and down his side.

“Sure will,” he says, still smirking. You’re only getting more breathless the longer this goes on, and you haven't even made your whole point yet.

“And… those black pants of yours…?”

“Which ones, sweetheart? I got a lot of black pants,” he remarks, feigning innocence and a cheeky lilt to his voice. “You know which ones,” you mutter, your hand stilling.

He shifts closer until you’re pressed against each other and whispers, “Don’t think I do, you’re gonna have to tell me.”

You huff, annoyed at him for teasing you like this, and at yourself for getting turned on by his games. “The tight-fitting, black—”

“That’s not what you really want to say, though, is it? Tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours,” he interrupts, and you shiver.

You look down at his chest, unable to make eye contact with him and pray he doesn’t notice how your cheeks redden as you whisper back, “Those black pants that everyone can see how big you are, those pants, I want you to wear them.”

He skims a hand up your back, “See? Was that so difficult?” he asks rhetorically, and you can practically hear his teasing smile and visualise the dark glint that you know will be in his eyes. “And what shoes should I wear, you know, to tie the whole look together?”

“You know very well I couldn’t care less what fucking shoes you wear,” you chirp back at him, forcing yourself to look him in the eye again.

Satisfied with your answer, he plants his hand on the small of your back, caressing you gently with his thumb, “You mentioned some kind of deal?”

If he hadn’t brought it up again you’re not sure you would’ve remembered at all. You’ll always be amazed by how calm he is after derailing a conversation and making you so flustered.

You close your eyes, mentally shake yourself, and start your bargaining, “Well, I promise to wear the laciest panties I own—” you look at him sweetly through your lashes, “—if you promise to keep your clothes on. And you can, you know, do whatever you want.” It comes out far breathier than you were planning, but it’s out. “With me, to me, you know. Whatever.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly, voice lowered, “Whatever I want, hm? And all I have to do is stay dressed? Quite the deal there.”

Joel’s made himself comfortable in his chair, eyes trained on you in the doorway. Sitting here now, the night’s only just beginning and you’re already like putty in his hands. He noticed hours ago your eyes had glazed over, and he’s been growing harder and harder ever since in anticipation.

“What’re you thinking about, sweetheart?” he asks, and your gaze refocuses on him.

“You,” you reply, sweet and simple.

He does a once-over, taking in your flowery, strappy top and neat little black slip-skirt that falls just above your knees and hugs your hips beautifully — your hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt and you’re shifting your weight side to side.

He smiles softly and suggests, “Why don’t you show me those pretty panties you promised to wear?” and you nod gently, moving slowly further into the room.

Much more confident and comfortable in your own skin than when you took your clothes off for him the first time, you face Joel and lift your gaze to meet his. You reach behind your back to unzip your top and lift it over your head, dropping it to the floor. Pushing your thumbs beneath your waistband, you peel your skirt over your hips and hunch forward slightly, letting it pool around your feet. Standing at your full height again, he takes all of you in — clad in lace, black bra and lilac panties.

He widens his legs and curls a finger, beckoning you forward and you stand between his knees. Joel rests his hands on your hips, thumbing the lace over your hipbones.

“Where’ve you been hiding these?” he looks up at you and sees heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

“I, um… I’ve been saving them, for uh—“ you stutter, and he can see you start second-guessing your choice. Breathing shallowly, you murmur, “Do you not like them?”

He smiles at you, still playing with the lace, “I love them, sweetheart. You know I always do.” He lowers his gaze down to your panties again, eyes trailing across the fabric, and he doesn’t miss how you press your legs together, seeking any sort of relief.

He pushes against your hip to turn you around, and almost can’t believe how you’ve both ended up here. You, dressed in your best lace just for him, ready and willing to do as he says? You’d clearly been wanting to do this for some time now, but Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited, too. He kneads the swell of your ass, fingers toying with the lacy edges and hears you breathing deeply again.

“So, whatever I want?”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder and reply under your breath, “Yes.”

He turns you around to face him, hands still on your hips. He looks up at you again, “You okay?” and squeezes his hands.

“Yeah,” and you nod, smiling down at him.

“Well, you did such a good job picking these panties all on your own, sweetheart, I think maybe you need a reward,” he darts his tongue out and drags his hands along your thighs, resting his arms down and leaning back in his chair. “First, though, you’re gonna show me just how good you can be, okay? C’mon, on your knees.”

You lower yourself, getting comfortable between his legs, your eyes lingering on his bulge before looking up at him. He nods towards his lap and you start undoing his pants, palming him through the fabric. Reaching into his boxer briefs and wrapping your hand around his length, you stroke him a few times and pull his waistband down just enough to take him out, thick and heavy and already fully stiff in your hand. You bow your head to lick him from base to tip, hover above him and spit onto his cock, stroking him harder and smiling sweetly at him.

You start taking him into your mouth and he sighs, resting a hand on the crown of your head. “You been waiting all night for this, huh, sweetheart?”

You hum a response and he groans, watching you bob up and down, taking more and more of him each time. You pull off and continue stroking him, and he smiles at you in encouragement. You take him in your mouth again, and he feels you hollow your cheeks and take him even further, the tip of his cock just about breaching your throat and you whimper around him.

“Fuck, baby, doin’ so good,” he grunts and pulls you off. His hand moves to the nape of your neck, the other tracing over your collarbone and down over the lace of your bra, your nipples hardening through the delicate fabric. “Think you can do it?”

You nod eagerly at him, eyes glinting, hands stroking him languidly and you move to start sucking him again. He tightens his grip and stops you. “Use your words, please.”

“Yes, I can do it.” You look up at him and his hold softens.

“Good girl, go on.”

You lick the underside of his shaft and swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and take him again, working him just to the start of your throat. You’re breathing as best you can through your nose, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, lips stretched around him and brushing his wiry curls as you push even further and hold him there, fingers digging into his thighs. You start to gag and do your best not to pull off him, squirming to find any bit of friction and Joel moans at the sight, throwing his head back.

“Bein’ such a good girl, taking my cock so far down your throat, hm?”

You moan and swallow around him, his hips jerking at the sensation and he pulls you off. “Almost too good,” he breathes, “know you’d love me coming down your throat, but not tonight.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you whine, moving back and forth on your knees.

“Stand up for me sweetheart,” and you rise, looking down at him, still catching your breath. His hands are back on you immediately, squeezing your waist, hips, ass — any part of you he can reach. He runs his fingers across your panties again, trailing them down over your covered clit and between your folds and you tilt forward into his touch.

“Soaked right through these pretty panties of yours,” he looks up to meet your gaze and there’s almost no colour to your eyes anymore, just pure blown-out pupils. He keeps rubbing his fingers along you and you whine again, clearly desperate for him to touch you properly.

He smirks up at you, “So needy just from sucking my cock.”

Joel shoves his hand under the elastic of your panties and rubs his fingers between your folds and over your entrance, coating his fingers in your arousal. He shoves two thick fingers into you without warning and you fall forward with a strangled moan, hands supporting your weight on his shoulders as he pumps his fingers in and out, your cunt tight around him.

“Always so wet for me, huh? Need me to make you feel good?” He stares at you, eyes shut and mouth hanging open as he slows his hand and you force out a yes, your voice hoarse. He speeds up again and curls his fingers into that one spot he knows you can’t reach with your own hand, brushing over it again and again, the palm of his hand grinding against your clit.

Your legs start trembling and he pulls his fingers out and slips them into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Taste so sweet.”

He moves his legs between yours and pulls you towards him and down onto his lap, guiding your hips back and forth over his length, precome leaking from his tip. He leans forward, “You gonna keep these on while you sit on my cock, yeah?” and tugs on the waistband of your panties, letting the elastic snap back against your skin. You nod frantically in response and lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him haphazardly. He licks into your mouth and moans into you, hands firmly gripping your ass.

You rise slightly and he takes hold of his cock, stroking himself and pulls your panties to one side. He lines himself up with your entrance and you start to sink down, eyes screwing shut at the stretch. He holds you by the waist, your hands like a vice grip on his shoulders and it takes everything in him not to pull you down and make you take him to the hilt. You take your time working him in, inch by inch, and Joel can tell how close you are already, your broken moans getting louder and louder.

You’re fully seated and he takes a hand off his shoulder, plants a kiss on your knuckles and guides it between your bodies, spreading your fingers around where he’s splitting you open. “You feel how stretched you are, baby?” You gasp and he leans towards you and lifts his hand to grip across your chin, mouth ghosting yours and squeezes his hand to purse your lips.

“Open,” he orders and your lips part, spitting into your mouth and he feels you tightening around him. Pushing his index finger into your mouth, you suck and swirl your tongue around it, moaning as you lift up and down, grinding yourself onto the trail of hair at the base of his cock. Joel feels your legs starting to give out underneath you and he watches you with hooded eyes. He pulls his finger from your mouth and wraps his arms around you, hands reaching down underneath your panties to grab your ass and spread you wider. He prods his finger at your tight hole and your eyes shoot open to look at him, desperate and needy.

“You gonna come for me?” You whine and nod, almost begging him with a please, over and over again. He pushes his finger in to just past his middle knuckle and you moan out wantonly, already completely wrecked. Joel feels your cunt clamp down on his cock and you come with a sob of his name, eyes shut and face contorted in pleasure as he whispers praises in your ear.

At some point in your post-orgasm haze, Joel moved the two of you onto the bed — you waiting on all fours and Joel's voice breaking through from somewhere behind you.

“Did good sweetheart, always do, but I’m not done with you.” His hands are all over you, skating across and grabbing any skin he can reach. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder in search of him and notice he’s still fully dressed — well, as fully dressed as he can be — and remember that’s what got you into this position in the first place. Dishevelled greying curls, only the last couple buttons holding his shirt together, wide chest on full display, sleeves rolled up, pants and boxer briefs sitting mid-thigh, his cock, thick and hard and leaking and you clench around nothing just at the sight.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls your panties down to the tops of your thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses on the skin as it’s revealed. He spreads you with his hands and spits onto your pussy and you let out a choked moan. He drags the tip of his cock through your folds and the messy mix of arousal and spit and your last orgasm. You feel him notch at your entrance again, and he sheaths himself fully inside your cunt in one thrust, all but punching the air from your lungs and he groans. You feel the swell of his tummy pressed against you and his fingers digging into your ass as he spreads you open. “Look so beautiful like this, wish you could see it.”

He leans over you, breathing into your neck, “Always take my cock so well, baby.” He pulls out almost completely, snapping his hips back into you and you can already feel heat pooling at the base of your spine again as he pounds into you, fingers gripping your hips so hard he’s bound to leave bruises. He snakes a hand underneath you to rub your clit and you feel your legs start to tremble.

All you can think is Joel Joel Joel, and his voice cuts through the ringing in your ears, husky and breathless. “You gonna give me one more, yeah? Come for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and come on my cock,” and you all but see stars behind your eyes, overwhelmed with the sweet praise. He stills as you come, his hands and affirming words keeping you grounded as you clench and gush around him.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you up flush against him, your head falling back onto his shoulder and you’re not sure you can form words anymore, your chest heaving as you try to get your breathing back to normal. You turn your head towards him and he kisses you surprisingly gently.

“Can you be good just a bit longer?” He starts grinding his hips into you and you whine, your hands coming up to hold his arms. “Always such a good girl for me, hm?” He drags his mouth along the side of your neck and you nod tiredly, feeling him smile.

He starts with slow thrusts, his grip around you the sole reason you’re still upright, his voice in your ear and hot breath on your neck and the heavy, familiar, drag of his cock in and out making you dizzy.

“So fuckin’ tight around me sweetheart. Your favourite feeling, isn’t it? Being stuffed full of my cock?” He starts rambling on and you know he’s close. “You want me to come inside you? Want me to come inside your tight little pussy?”

“Yes, please. Please come inside me.”

He mumbles incoherently and you tighten your hands on his arms; his thrusts get harder and his arms stiffen in their hold around you and you feel him twitching as he starts to spill inside you, warmth coating your walls. He lowers you both to lie down as he comes down from his high, cock still buried deep inside you and you feel his spend start to leak out around him and down your thighs.

Shifting around and your eyes fluttering open, you’re wrapped up in Joel’s arms, head burrowed against his chest. You reach down and feel he’s cleaned you up and pulled fresh panties on you, a faint throbbing between your thighs. He stirs next to you and presses a kiss to your forehead, long and tender.

“Sorry, fell asleep,” you mumble and wrap an arm around his torso to press yourself into him even more.

He pulls back slightly, lifting your chin with a finger to look at him. “Sweetheart, think we’ve done this enough that I know you get sleepy afterwards. Stop apologising.” He cradles your cheek, kisses you sweetly and whispers, “Now go back to sleep.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

Close (can read alone)

2.7k, raider!Joel x f!reader | raider master, joel

mood board by @milla-frenchy , stitches edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you. Both arms are around you and one hand cradles your head. “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length. His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive. The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair.

SUMMARY: Two men come to the trailer before Joel gets home, and for a second, Joel thinks you're shot. He fucks you hard from the adrenaline. You give Joel stitches and tell him how you feel. Then you do it missionary (for the first time?)

WARNINGS: I8+; unsafe P in V (x2); light manhandling; canon-typical violence; angst; dark fluff; reader can sit on joel and her hair can be pulled; pet names and praise; no use of y/n.

One morning, Joel is making coffee and you're sitting in the nook by the window, behind the little kitchen table. He brings his coffee to the table and tells you he's going on a dangerous trip. It's all hands on deck, so he's gonna have to leave you by yourself. He hands you a gun. The same one you used on the girl.

He takes you outside. "Remember how to fire it?" He taught you how within days of when he first plucked you out of your life and set you in his. You stand up and show him how you aim it. He gets behind you and helps adjust your form, but it doesn’t need much adjusting.

After you lower the gun, he rests a hand on your head and says, "If somebody threatens you, tries to take you, tries to touch you, you shoot'em." You nod.

"Good girl."

You're scared about his plans. If Joel considers it dangerous, you can't even imagine. He's never said anything like this before, like something might happen to him, despite all the stuff you know he gets up to. He can tell you’re worried and asks what's wrong.

"What if you don't come back?"

"I'm gonna come back."

He doesn't come back that day, even well after you hear the vans return. You’re worried and don’t know what you’d do without him. If he’s hurt or in trouble, you want to help him. You want to find him even if it means you get hurt. You have this terrible thought, and you know it's irrational, but you can't push it away - you’d rather be with him and hurt than away from him unharmed.

You know it's risky to go down to the house with all the men there. You’re waiting for the vans to leave and thinking of walking down the hill alone when you hear unfamiliar footsteps outside the trailer. You get the gun ready and make sure the safety is off. When the footsteps are at the back of the trailer you peer out the front window and, thank God, in the flickering flood light, you see Joel crest the hill with a bloody face.

He sees you in the window and raises his rifle. His eyes sweep the area. You signal with your hands that there are guys around back. He holds out his hand as a stop sign then puts his finger over his lips. He raises his rifle and crouches down as he goes around the side of the trailer out of view.

You hear a gunshot and splatter, then a scuffle. Joel and another man are grunting. Joel interrogates him about whether there are any more of them around, landing a blow after each time he asks him. Then finally, another gunshot, but Joel doesn't come inside. You hear the sound of a body being dragged. It drowns out any footsteps. Your heart tells you Joel is alive, he's the one dragging the body, but you won't feel okay until you see him.

After at least ten minutes of silence, you can’t stand it anymore. He should’ve at least come to the window so you’d know he was okay. You creep out of the trailer, gun in hand, closing the door softly behind you. You go around to the side where you heard the struggle. There's still a body on the ground. You start looking for a trail - drag marks in the dirt, flattened grass. Something you could follow to get to Joel.

Then you hear a gasp and a groan behind you. You jump and shriek at the top of your lungs. You turn around and the "body" isn't dead, it's on its knees behind you, lunging for you. "JOEL!!!" you scream. Then you walk backwards, aim the gun, and fire a shot between the man's eyes. You run back to the trailer and crouch down hiding, suddenly afraid you might have attracted someone else's attention. The front of the trailer doesn’t provide any cover with that light on, so you hesitate to go in the front door just yet.

—-----

“SWEET PEA!” When Joel comes into view, he's running, holding his rifle, ready to shoot. There's a look on his face you've never seen on him before – fear. He looks panicked. "Oh, god," he says to himself before he sees you, then booms, "WHERE ARE YOU BABY?"

"Here," you croak and only then realize you're crying and shaking.

He rushes over to you and crouches down at your level. "You're okay, you're okay." You can see his pulse pounding in his neck. He puts his rifle behind his back and hugs you so tight it hurts, then grabs you, forcing you to your feet roughly. He drags you inside.

—---------

He sits you down on a chair at the kitchen table.

"What happened," he asks urgently as he takes off his gun. He pries the pistol from your hands.

"He wasn't dead." You take in the extent of Joel's facial injury, and he's bleeding badly from the forehead. You reach out to touch it and he dodges you.

"Why'd you go out there," he demands gruffly.

"Are you mad," you sob.

He takes in your face, then his expression softens and he shakes his head. " No," he says, still catching his breath. "Fuck, it don't matter sweet pea." He holds you by the back of the head and puts his forehead against yours for a few seconds. Your tears are dropping onto the hem of your dress, diluting a spot of bloodsplatter.

Joel pulls back, chest still heaving, and palms himself over his jeans. "C'mere," he says and urgently grabs you off your chair and pulls you into straddling him. He quickly wipes his own blood off your forehead with his thumb. You wrap your arms around his neck and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. He takes his hard cock out, gathers saliva in his mouth, then looks down to his lap and spits on it. Then he wraps an arm around you, holding you into his chest, and lifts you up to get clearance. He pulls your panties to the side and you gasp as he impales you.

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you. He holds you with both arms around you with one hand cradling your head. “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length, stretched by his cock. His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive. The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair. He breathes vocally, then he groans as he forces you all the way down. He keeps you down, with all of him inside you, filling you all the way up. His hips rock up into you and he comes in record time, pulsing enormously against your walls, so many times you lose count. It's like he just needed to plant himself in you, feel that you're real, you’re truly still there, and claim you all over again.

He puts his head against yours as he catches his breath. Then he brushes your forehead with his thumb again and looks back and forth between your eyes. You don't let yourself try to kiss him. He clears his throat and says, "Go clean yourself up. I've gotta dump that guy. Won't take me too long."

"Ok."

"Lock the door." He helps you off his lap and when his cock slides out, a mess of cum comes with it.

—----

There’s blood and grime on your face from contact with Joel’s. You take a shower and lay down on the bed in your nightie. Joel staggers in wordlessly, locks the door, puts his gun down on the table, and goes straight to the bathroom. “Shit,” he mutters to the mirror. The sink turns on. While he's in the bathroom, you go to the kitchen table where he left the light on and you wait for him.

He emerges with a washcloth, bottle of liquor, sewing needles and thread, scissors and tape. The scissors are bloodstained. He haphazardly sets it all on the table, then sits down in a chair next to you. Now that the dirt is gone you can see he has quite a gash across his eyebrow and it's still bleeding. He's sweatier than you've ever smelt him.

"Can ya sew me up or got a weak stomach?" He pours some of the liquor onto the cloth and dabs his eyebrow. Then he takes a swig of it.

You don't want to sound too eager but you want nothing more than to help him. “I'll do my best.” You sterilize and thread the needle and he dabs the wound again, then lays his head on the table for you. He barely flinches as you stitch him up.

“You’ve done this before,” he says.

“Yeah.” You cut the string then dab the stitched wound with alcohol. “We shouldn’t tape it yet.”

He sits up and looks at you. “Do I look scary now?” he smiles.

You shake your head. It actually looks sexy.

"I was afraid you weren't gonna come home," you say. "I'm glad you did."

He scans your face and his eyes seem to glisten. “Me too, baby. C’mere.” He lets you into his lap facing him and he gives you a tight squeeze.

"I was scared," you whimper.

He strokes your back and says, "Shhhhh.”

You keep thinking, what if he didn't come home. You know he won’t say it back, but you still need him to hear it. You can't resist whispering, “I love you."

His body tenses. He pulls back and studies your eyes for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath. His voice is more gentle than his words. “Damnit, sweet pea.”

He gently nudges you out of his lap and you sit back down in the chair next to him. He takes your hand in his and looks down at it as he brushes his thumb lightly across your knuckles. When he looks at you again, he’s squinting. His mouth is moving like he's fighting with his tongue. He opens his lips, but doesn’t speak. You wait patiently for his rejection. His face hardens, then he looks you over.

His eyes and voice are soft, but his tone is cautionary and his words are careful. "You belong to me, baby. It’s not how you think."

That wasn't too bad. Somehow it wasn’t as bad as the time you kissed him. You could leave it at that, maybe offer a "yes sir" to show you understand the power dynamic, and move on with no harm done, but that's not what you do. You can’t resist protesting, "can't I belong to you and also love you?"

He's silent for a few more seconds as he reads your face then swallows. "Ain't gonna tell' ya what to feel," he grumbles and looks away again.

Against your better judgment, you continue, "but you don't love me, right? I get it."

He breathes in deeply through his nose and you worry for a second that you’ve pushed him too far again until his gaze meets your sad eyes. He's silent, but his eyes are reaching out for you. You can feel it: his heart won't let him say he doesn't love you.

He breaks the silence. "I think you're confused, baby. That's all." He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses it, tells you to go to bed.

By the time Joel finishes showering and getting ready for bed, you're half asleep. He doesn't put any clothes on before he comes to bed.

He throws the covers off, uncurls you from your fetal position, and puts you face-up on your back. You observe the silhouette of his naked body looming over you like you’ve never seen him before. He pulls your nightie off like he's undressing a doll. He’s hungry in a different way now. You can feel it in the way he’s moving. He gets between your legs and buries his face in your chest, nosing at your nipples then sucking them hungrily. His beard scratches you painfully, and it feels good, like anything from him.

He spits on his hand and reaches down between you to add it to your growing wetness and guide his tip inside you. He shudders as he shoves himself into you and bottoms out in one go, enrobed in what remains of his own cum and the tight hug of your walls. He retreats and your legs wrap around him. He plunges even deeper and grunts. He looks down at your face, but after a moment of eye contact he abruptly yanks his eyes up to the wall behind the bed. He braces a hand on the wall and curls his other hand over your shoulder, holding you down toward him to stop you from riding up the mattress and hitting your head with his powerful thrusts.

You gasp and moan and watch the outline of his naked body flexing each time he moves his hips forward. He’s spent from the day and night, you can tell. But he’s still releasing some kind of tension. and meanwhile, you feel it gradually building deep in your belly. After a few minutes of railing you, he pauses to rotate so you’re diagonal across the bed. He brings his forearms down on the mattress and fucks you missionary with his naked body on yours.

With his pelvis grinding into yours, the rub on your clit is nearly too much. He begins to bury his length in you slowly, except for the moment he bottoms out each time with an animalistic punch from his hip flexors.

“Joel,” you gasp. “I–Joel,” you whimper and your hips lift into him, seeking even more contact. The tension releases all at once. As your body writhes under his, you whimper his name again.

His face is hovering over yours as he continues to slowly fuck you through your orgasm. You restrain yourself from trying to kiss him. He gets up on his hands, triceps bulging. He hangs his head and watches your body take him, your breasts jiggling with each punch of his cock. Then he lowers himself again. He bites and sucks your neck, marking you up as his length fills you to the brim.

He whispers, “god damn, you feel good like this” then slides his hands palm-up under your upper back to hold onto your shoulders from underneath, resting his weight on his forearms. “Fuck,” he breathes and slams into you hard a few more times. Then he groans as he plunges to the hilt and begins to pulse. He lowers his bare chest against yours and slowly thrusts twice more as his balls empty. He rests some weight on you for a second and all your skin against all of his feels like something really special before he pulls out and rolls over onto his back.

He lies there apart from you for a minute, then whispers, “c’mere,” and slides his hand under your neck. You move closer and he pulls you right up against him. You’re facing away and your back is flush with his side. Your neck rests on his bicep and your head on his pillow. He falls asleep quickly.

You wake up in the middle of the night and he's holding you tighter than ever. "Joel, I can't – I can't breathe." You cough and pry his arm loose. He relaxes and you take in a deep breath as he presses a kiss into the back of your neck. A kiss he'll forget while the feeling lingers on your skin for days. You wish you could understand why, but you’ll take the kiss. You're still savoring it when he kisses your neck again. Then he gently cups your breast and sighs, "sweet pea," in his sleep.

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thank you so much for reading and engaging! your reblogs and comments and discussion mean a lot, ESPECIALLY SINCE IT GOT A LABEL RIGHT AWAY lol <3

#9 is planned / has a scene written.

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #dark!Joel Miller #possessive!joel miller #raider!Joel Miller #joel miller/you #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel #raider!joel miller #pedro pascal characters #tw flashing #pedrostories #the last of us #the last of us smut #content label

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inkmonster21 · 2 months

Text

Pop Star Princess

Billy Butcher x Pop Star fem!reader

I was inspired by this post 🤣

Frenchie zips up his bag quickly. “I can give her a call. She may say yes.” Butcher rolls his eyes as he stuffs his belongings into the small duffel. Once again their safe house wasn’t so safe anymore. “Yeah? You do whatever you want, Frenchie, but don’t expect me to be welcomed,” Butcher says in a snappy tone. And so Frenchie did. He called you up, surprised as the line picked up on the second ring. “Frenchie?” Your voice carried out the line. “I need a favor.” Of course, you agreed. “Butcher has to come with me,” Frenchie says biting his teeth together. You sigh, and after a moment you speak, “Have him meet me tonight.”

Butcher couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous to meet up with someone. He watches you on their bench, for a moment he’s planning what to say, but his mind goes blank when he makes eye contact, his eyes briefly widening.

“You came.” He simply states, almost surprised you hadn’t blown him off.

The rush of feeling came but so did the heartache. Billy Butcher broke your heart once. You won’t let him do it again. “I’m doing it for Frenchie. Not you.”

He nods, he couldn’t blame you. This wasn’t the first bridge he burned - and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. He could tell you were holding back, he wasn’t blind.

“I understand.” He said, in response to your statement. “I’m aware I can be a difficult bastard.”

You scoff, no sign of a grin, “That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s the truth, you have to admit.” He replies, a smirk appearing on his lips.

He wanted to ask why you had agreed to help them; the question lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t dare ask it.

“I’ll text Frenchie the address. You can show up tonight. I’ll have someone let you in.”

He nods, hands still in his pockets, he doesn’t say anything for a moment, he can feel the air almost getting tense - it made him feel uncomfortable, he wasn’t used to that.

“Thank you.” He says, and he means it. Deep down he knows there are only a few people who even would’ve considered to help him.

The ache in your chest returns. “Don’t go thanking me yet. Just don’t be late.” You say and promptly exit to return home and prepare for their arrival.

The boys show up at the house. More like a mansion. The gate opens allowing them in. It was a big and ostentatious house, the kind that screams “more money than sense” kind of house. But Butcher had to admit, it was impressive.

Once Butcher, Hughie, and Frenchie are all inside, Butcher looks to Frenchie. “Who owns this lot?” Butcher asks, taking in the surroundings, not taking his eyes off the interior of the house, as he walks further in.

The walls are littered with large photos of yourself, several albums framed on the walls. Frenchie smirks, “she does.”

As they walk further into what Butcher assumed was the living room, he can see how well off you are. Things had definitely changed since you two last saw each other. His eyes stop on one of the photos and his eyebrows rise slightly.

"You can't be serious." He mutters, his eyes on one of the pictures.

He stands there, somewhat in disbelief, he couldn't help but feel impressed. He assumed Frenchie was pulling his leg, that had been joking when he had said it.

"Damn." He mutters, staring at the gold records on the wall. She had really done it. That snide joke from years ago. The silly threat. She actually wrote songs about him and they went fucking platinum.

Hughie reads the name over again on the records. “Holy shit. We’re in a fucking pop stars house.”

"Yeah, I noticed that, thanks." A sarcastic tone in his voice as he glances at Hughie, before turning his attention back to the awards. "Never would have pegged you on being a pop star fan."

You finally walk down the stairs to greet them. “Wow, you actually made it on time.”

Butcher’s eyes dart to you as you descend the stairs, the sound of your shoe heels echoing through the house. His eyes look you up and down, taking in the new look.

"Look at you. Who would've thought, huh?" He smirks, as the two of you stop at the bottom of the stairs. You look up at the various awards and posters. “Well, I did tell you I would.” He smirks at the response, leaning with one hand resting in his pocket.

"Never believed ya." He say, his eyes scanning across all the awards and photos for a moment. "You really did it, princess."

You nod with a bitter smile. “And all I had to do was write about some asshole.”

He can feel the passive aggressiveness in your voice. As the words leave their mouth, his smirks. "Guess that makes me lucky then, huh?" He replies.

Hughie stops, “wait, your songs are about him?” He asks in shock. You shake your head “Not all of them. Only the sad ones.”

Butcher raises an eyebrow at that, “so most of them?” The smirk was still in place, yet somehow he felt a pang of guilt deep down - one he refused to acknowledge.

You show them each to their rooms. Butcher is the last in line. He follows you, hands in his pockets, taking in the surroundings as best he can. The house was big, and he wondered how much money the place had cost.

Once he stands in front of the door to his room, he stops. For a moment he doesn’t know what to say or what to do. Part of him wanted to ask you a hundred questions, and another part of him wanted to just walk in and go to bed.

You didn’t give him time to pick. You promptly walked off. “Goodnight Billy. “ He let you walk away, watching you disappear to your own room. “Goodnight, princess.” He mutters as he goes into the room. He lay awake in the bed, He knew he had hurt you, but he hadn’t known just how badly.

In the morning the smell of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast hit the team's nose. They started to file down one by one. Seeing their host dancing and singing while making their food. Hughie was singing along being the super fan he is.

Butcher is the last to get up, and he takes a few minutes to himself to get ready before he finally makes his way down the stairs. He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the frame as he watches the scene before him.

Hughie sat there, singing along with a huge grin on his face, while you danced and made breakfast. It’s a weird sight, and for a moment he wants to make a sarcastic comment, but he keeps his mouth shut. It’s still too early for that.

As Butcher stands there, he can feel Frenchie’s eyes on him. He knew Frenchie wasn’t as blind, but Frenchie stayed quiet, not saying a word, he just watched.

You laugh as Hughie dances to the music. You fill up everyone a plate of food. Even Butcher. You pass it to him quickly. Trying to avoid any contact. As he takes the plate, your fingers brush briefly against his. You tried not to react, or even notice it, but he couldn’t help the way your stomach tightened.

He couldn’t help but notice the way you quickly moved your hands away afterward. He sat at the table, Hughie’s cheerful voice filling the room, he was like a little kid meeting their favorite celebrity. It almost made him chuckle. Almost. Except he can’t help but notice the way you refuse to look at him.

“I’ve got a show Tuesday night. You can all come. Stay backstage. No one will notice you there.” You share the idea with them as they all eat.

There’s a momentary pause in the conversation, as you mention the show. Hughie immediately grins in excitement at the invitation, while Frenchie looks interested - although he keeps his poker face. Butcher doesn’t respond at first, he just keeps his eyes on his plate for a few seconds.

“You sure that’s a good idea, princess?” He inquires, in a sarcastic tone. You look at him from over the table, “By all means, if you want to miss out on a fun time that’s your loss. Might be good to take the stick out of your ass for a few hours.” You grumble as you stab your eggs.

His mouth tugged into a smirk, “Oh, I’ll be there, I ain’t missing an opportunity to see the spoiled pop star in action.” He replies, in a mocking tone.

Later in the evening when the boys were alone Hughie breaks open the subject. “How the hell do you know her?“

Butcher knew the question would come, but it didn’t stop him from feeling uncomfortable. He leans back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling as he lets out a deep sigh, trying to come up with the right words to explain.

“We were friends.” He simply says, trying to keep his answer as vague as he could.

Frenchie scoffs at the words. “Friends? No, no, Friends don’t do what you two did, yes?” He looks over to Frenchie briefly.

“You know what I meant.” He mutters, shifting uncomfortably. “And it’s not like it’s all my fault.” He adds, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. He could’ve done a lot differently, but he’d been so damn stubborn.

Hughie nods, “There’s more than that!” He could tell he wasn’t going to drop it now they’d started, he had to give them some sort of explanation.

“Frenchie brought her in on a job years ago. We had… an on-and-off thing. Wasn’t serious, just casual, just having a bit of fun.” He tries to explain, his voice somewhat strained.

Hughie looks at Butcher with wide eyes. “Casual… That song is about you!”

He looked over to Hughie for several seconds, he knew exactly what song he meant. “Never heard of it.” He replies, his voice somewhat bitter and strained, he’d listen to the song one too many times since he’d found out. He wanted to be angry at you for writing it, but the more times he listened to it, the more he felt the lyrics were the truth.

“Holy shit!” Hughie laughs in revelation. Butcher rolls his eyes in response to Hughie’s loud outburst. “Jesus, calm down. It wasn’t a big deal.” He mutters.

Frenchie looks over to him with a knowing expression. “Not that big a deal, huh?”

You were more than friends, more than just a casual hook-up, but Butcher would never admit that. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to shake the thoughts running through his mind. He tries to play it off as if it were all just a good time, but he can’t convince himself, let alone the other two to sit beside him.

“Like I said, we was just friends.” He repeats, his voice lacking more and more confidence with each word.

Hughie and Frenchie share a look of doubt.

He looks over at them, seeing the looks they exchange between them. He could tell they both thought him to be talking bullshit.

He let out an irritated sigh, it made him feel even more frustrated with himself.

“You don’t believe me?” He asks, tone slightly strained.

Hughie shakes his head with a smirk “You don’t write a song like that over just some hook-up.”

The comment makes his expression shift, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing slightly. “People write songs about anything and everything these days.”

He knew it was a weak excuse, but the thought of admitting just how deep it had been sent him into an immediate defensive mode.

A knock comes at the door and you peek your head in. “Hi. Just wanted to see if anyone wanted to go to the studio with me. I’ve got to record.”

They all turn to look at the door, as you appear behind it. Butcher’s head tilts curiously at the appearance, his eyes falling over you as he feels a strange twisting feeling in his stomach.

He glances at the other two in silent question, before looking back over to them.

“How big is this studio?”

You shrug, “it’s not huge. It’s got a couch though.” Butcher lets out a low hum as if contemplating it for a moment before he finally stands.

“I’ll go.” He gives the others a look, as if silently challenging them to stop him.

You stop with wide eyes. “You?” You look at the other boys with curious eyes. He smirked, slightly amused by the surprised yet questioning tone you had.

“Yeah, me. That an issue, princess?”

You shake your head, “Nope.”

He grins, “Good.” He glances back to Hughie and Frenchie, who are watching the exchange intently.

“I’ll be back in a while.” He mutters to them before looking back to them. “Lead the way.”

As you enter the studio, Butcher follows along behind them and the atmosphere instantly switches. He notices the producer sitting at a desk facing a large window, and other workers moving around, setting up for the recording session.

He feels a little out of place, but he keeps his face emotionless, observing the people around him with a neutral yet intimidating expression.

“Hi, Mark.” You toss your bag on the couch and relax, waiting for the crew to finish

Butcher continues to stand near the door for a few moments, taking in the environment, before he finally moves to sit down on the sofa near you, legs almost brushing. He keeps his eyes locked on you, not able to bring himself to look away. “Who’s this?” Mark asks with a friendly smile.

He meets Mark’s gaze, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Billy Butcher.” He replies in a friendly yet cold tone. He could tell the man was a typical, smiley record business douche. But for your sake, he forced a polite demeanor. You wave your hand at him trying to dismiss the subject. “Just a friend.”

Mark’s smile turns more intrigued as his eyes move between the two of you. He can’t help but feel slightly annoyed by the look he’s giving.

“Just friend, hmm?” He mutters, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

You roll your eyes but don’t push it. Mark knew much about Billy. Knew he was the main inspiration for your career of sobbing songs

Butcher shifted on the couch, trying to act at ease as he settled into his seat, his eyes lingering on you for a few seconds before darting back around the room.

Mark smiles, looking somewhat amused as he nods his head in agreement. “Everything is set up. I’ll be out in the booth if you need me.” He replies, before disappearing through a door in the back of the studio.

You turn to Billy with a flat expression. “Don’t make any loud noises or touch anything.” He rolls his eyes in response to the instructions, a small smirk on his face.

“And what if I do?” He inquires, in a somewhat mocking tone. You roll your eyes as you stand. “You’re so infuriating.” He grins, enjoying how easy it was to get under your skin.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Can’t handle me sitting here quietly?” He replies, leaning back against the couch leisurely. “I was hoping your friend Hughie would have come. He’d be much more fun than you.”

He scoffs at the comment, his face falling into a frown.

“Oh, what? Cause he’d behave and play nice, like a proper little puppy?” He retorts, in a somewhat bitter tone. “We both know you get bored easily.”

You move to the microphone and headset putting it on. Trying to block Billy out of your mind. He lets out a low, amused hum as you move over to the microphone, ignoring his antagonism. He leans back on the couch, crossing his arms and settling in to watch. As I sing Billy moves around the room. You send him a glare but he just shrugs innocently.

He stands near the back of the room, in the shadows as he listens to the lyrics, feeling his chest tighten as he recognizes the specific words. Had she remembered every single word he ever said to you?

He looks over at you, his gaze lingering on you, watching the emotions on your face and your hands gripping the microphone.

He continues to look over at you intently as you continue to sing. He’s completely transfixed by you, he can’t bring himself to look away, despite his mind wanting him to.

He felt his heart start to pound against his chest, the lyrics bringing up memories that he’d tried so hard to push to the back of his mind. He clenched his jaw, as he felt the emotion build up.

He felt angry at himself, for how deep the connection had been, and letting you in as much as he had.

You sing the last lines, eyes closed, completely taken. You look back to Mark. “Good?” Mark gives you an approving smile, clearly pleased with the recording.

“Good. Nice job kid.” He nods his head in approval, glancing from you to Billy, noticing the look on his face. “I think we should do that one at the show tomorrow.” Mark looks back over to you, before nodding his head in agreement.

“Yeah, it sounded nice. Fits the set well.” He replies, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile, his gaze flickering over to Billy for a brief moment before turning back to you.

“Something on your mind, Butcher?” You smirk

His eyes flick back to you, and he finds himself unable to look away again. He swallows dryly, before forcing a snarky smirk in reply.

“Just thinking how much of a brat you are.” He replies, in a somewhat teasing tone. “A million-dollar brat.”

He scoffs at the response, a small huff of laughter escaping his mouth.

“A million-dollar brat that needs to learn some manners.” He counters, raising his eyebrow and staring at you with an impassive expression.

You shake at him, a fake sense of fear on your face. “Oh no, I’m so scared.”

He lets out a low laugh, noticing the feigned fear on your face. He moves closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Watch that mouth of yours, princess. Might come back to bite you in the ass.” He mutters, his tone becoming slightly more serious.

“I’d love to see you fucking try.”

He smirks, amused by the challenge. He takes another step closer, his face only a few inches away from yours.

“You really wanna test me?” He asks, in an almost mocking tone, daring you to continue baiting him.

“I don’t think you can handle it.”

He snorts, letting out a low laugh. He slowly reaches out, one hand moving to rest on your hip, as he moves even closer. He’s so close now, that he could just lean forward and reach your face with his.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he speaks. “Sweetheart. I can handle a lot more than you realize.”

You look him up and down with a smirk, “Butcher, you don’t have what it takes to be with a girl like me.” He tilts his head slightly, looking down at you with an amused smirk on his face. He gently tightens his hold on your hip, his fingers gripping slightly.

“Oh, I don’t?” He replies, in a somewhat mocking tone. “And what makes you think I’d even want to be with a spoiled little princess like you?”

You walk your fingers up his toned chest. “That fucking look in your eyes.” You giggle “You miss me and you know it.” He lets out a low hum, his chest rising slowly with his sharp exhale as your fingers slide up his chest. He can feel his pulse quicken as he feels your cold touch against his skin.

He doesn’t respond to your statement, but his expression falters as you mention him missing you. He tries to keep his face neutral, but he knows that you can see the truth. He leans closer, now his face only a few millimeters from yours.

“I’d be crazy not to, princess.”

His words hit me. His eyes telling the truth. He did miss you. He watches intently as the words hit you, his eyes roaming over your face and reading your expression.

He tightens his hold on your hip, pulling you even closer until you’re practically pressed against him. He’s so close now, his eyes lingering on their face for a moment before slowly moving down to your lips.

“Billy.”

He feels a shiver run down his spine as he hears the sound of his name, his eyes still lingering on your lips.

His hand slowly moves up from your hip, his fingers moving gently up your body until he’s cupped your cheek in his hand. He can feel the heat from your skin, and he lets out a shaky exhale as his thoughts spiral.

“Um, hello? You two.” Mark laughs from the sound room. Butcher lets out a low huff, taking a second to process Mark's interruption. He reluctantly pulls his gaze away from you, tearing his eyes from your face and instead looking over to Mark.

“Hate to do it to you bud, but she’s got some more work to do,” Mark smirks at Billy. He glares slightly at Mark, a frustrated frown appearing on his face. He knows that this is the truth and that you still have more work to do.

Butcher gets a call from Hughie saying they found some hit on V being transferred. Billy reluctantly agreed to meet them at your house.

You look up, the tension still there. sharp as a knife. “you can take the car. I’ll catch a ride.” He hesitates for a moment, conflicted. He wants to stay with you, but he knows he has a job to do.

“Yeah… okay.” He replies, reluctantly. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows that he has no choice if he wants to do his job.

Billy watches as Mark exits the studio with a notebook in hand, a look of irritation flickering across his face. He’s already getting tired of the guy, his smirk annoying him. He turns back to you, his expression unreadable. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” He mutters, his voice a little gruff.

You nod pushing a small smile. You had to pull your eyes away from him. You were fucked and you knew it. Billy was burrowing himself into your heart once more and you could not stop it.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on your face. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the words.

He holds back the urge to grab you and pull you close against him once more. Instead, he lets out a huff of air, before reluctantly turning and walking out of the studio.

You got home late. Tiredness wept from your bones. You begin to make tea, attempting to soothe your throat. As you’re making the tea, the sound of the front door opening interrupts the silence of the house, Billy enters.

He takes in the sight of you, standing in the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there silently watching you for a few moments, drinking in the sight of you.

“Hi,” you say surprised to see he’s still awake. He watches as you look back at him. He lets out a low hum in response, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Hey.” He mutters, his voice still low and gravelly from exhaustion.

You look to him, “Why are you up?” He shrugs his shoulders, moving a few steps closer to you as he replies. “Couldn’t sleep. Needed a smoke.” His eyes rake over your face and down your body, taking in the sight of you.

You want to ask him why. Ask him what he thinks. You have a hundred questions for him.

He studies you for a moment, noticing the look in your eyes. He can tell that you have something you want to say, but you’re holding back. He stays silent for a moment longer, before finally speaking up.

“Spit it out, princess.”

You turn away from him and return to the boiling water on the stove. “Nothing.” He lets out an amused huff, seeing right through your attempt to hide it. He moves closer, invading your personal space as he leans against the counter next to you.

“Bullshit.” He mutters, a smirk pulling at his lips.

He stares down at you, his eyes slowly moving over your face. He can see the emotions flicker in your eyes, while his own expression remains guarded and emotionless. He has years of practice, but you’ve always been an open book for him to read.

He reaches out a hand, gently grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to look up at him. “I can always tell when you’re lying to me, princess.”

You swat his hand away. “Don’t.”

He lets out a low chuckle, amused by your stubborn behavior. He’s not surprised by your reaction.

“Why not?” He teases, his smirk growing wider. He continues to press his luck, moving even closer and invading your personal space even more. You feel breathless as he corners you. His arms sealing around your waist with ease. You barely speak, gaze cloudy and your head dizzy. “Don’t…”

He tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer until your body is pressed against his. He leans in, his face inches from yours.

“Why?” He mutters again, his tone slightly taunting. He can see the way your breath has quickened, the way your body is reacting to his touch.

You couldn’t help it or stop it if you tried. The cord finally snapped. The pull of him was too strong. You press up against him. Pressing your lips to his in a rushed heated kiss. He’s surprised by your sudden move, but he doesn’t resist. Butcher presses his body against yours, returning the kiss with just as much intensity.

His hands move up from your waist, one hand gently wrapping around the back of your neck, while the other one sinks into your hair, gripping it and tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

No words were exchanged. Just deep unsettled passion going between the two. Tongues clashing, teeth nipping. Your body was growing hot. He moves his mouth over to your neck, his lips and teeth moving over your sensitive skin. He’s letting out small, low grunts and growls with each touch, clearly just as affected.

His hands continue running over your body, one hand moving back down to your hip and gripping it tightly.

Reality came crashing down. You couldn’t allow yourself to get hurt by him again. You knew he wouldn’t stay. He wouldn’t call. Wordlessly you rip yourself from him. You touch your lips in shock and stare at him. You turn around and race up to your room forgetting the once-boiling water

He’s shocked and confused by the suddenness of your actions. One moment he’s got you close to him, the next you’ve torn yourself out of his grip and raced out of the kitchen.

He takes a second to process what happened, his mind and body still reeling from the passion. He’s torn between going after you and letting you go, but before he can make a decision, you’ve already disappeared up the stairs.

The morning after the house was quiet aside from The Boys taking up her living room. She hadn’t left her room yet this morning.

Billy has been pacing around the living room most of the morning, restless and irritable. He’s already on his third cigarette, smoking quickly as a way to pass the time.

His mind is occupied by thoughts of the previous night, and he can’t shake the memory of how close you were and how abruptly you tore yourself away. He keeps glancing at the stairs, his thoughts racing.

Frenchie furrows his brows at Butcher’s pacing. “Something wrong?” He huffs, still pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. He’s clearly on edge, the tension rolling off him in waves.

“Nah.“ He mutters, his words sharp. He doesn’t want to talk about what’s bothering him. Especially not with the rest of the Boys around listening.

You sit in your room staring at yourself in the mirror. “You went back on everything you fucking build.” You point at yourself in the mirror. You get dressed for a run and walk down the stairs.

He’s still pacing, taking another long drag from his cigarette when he hears you descend the stairs. He looks up, watching as you walk down towards them.

He stops his pacing, turning to face you as his eyes roam over your figure. He tries to ignore the pang of desire that flares inside of him, but he can’t help it. His mind still lingering on last night.

Without a word, you make your way to the door. “Going for a run,” you say and dash outside.

He grits his teeth in frustration as you slam the door behind you. He knows that you’re avoiding him, and it’s pissing him off.

He glances over at the rest of the two, who are watching the exchange with curious glances. He doesn’t care, he just scowls and storms over to the window by the door, peering out of it to watch as you walk away.

Frenchie pipes up, “What’s wrong with her?” Butcher doesn’t take his eyes off you as he replies to Frenchie’s question.

“Rough night, I guess.” He mutters, his tone gruff. His eyes still fixed on your form as you get further and further away, a frown tugging at his lips.

You avoided Butcher when Ieft and you did the same when you came home. The evening grows and you appear again, only because you have to. “Alright, I’ve got to go to the venue and get ready. Meet the security guard by the back door. You’ve already been cleared to come inside.” Hughie and Frenchie look excited while Butcher looks like he couldn’t care less.

He ignores the excited looks on Hughie and Frenchie’s faces, rolling his eyes at their eagerness. The thought of watching you perform is the only thing keeping him from completely refusing.

Butcher didn’t see you next until you were all dressed to the 9s. A short dress and glamorous makeup on your face. “Hey!” You say excitedly as the boys enter backstage. Hughie could explode with excitement

Butcher looks up as you call out, his eyes immediately falling to your appearance. His breath hitches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you. The short dress clings to your curves in all the right ways, while the glamorous makeup brings out your features.

He feels a stir of desire low in his stomach, his heart rate quickening as he tries to keep his expression neutral. But he can’t help the way his eyes linger on your figure for a few moments longer than necessary.

“You look… good.” He manages to mutter, his voice slightly gruff.

You try to ignore his comment, but can’t help the light blush from appearing on your cheeks. “Uh, thanks.”

The show starts. Butcher, Frenchie, and Hughie stand backstage, with a clear view. You sing as the crowd screams. Hughie dances to the music, Frenchie smiles at his friend, and Butcher was having to watch the woman he wanted so badly parade on stage, singing about how shitty of a person he was.

A mix of desire and pain bubbled inside of him. You look absolutely ravishing, and it’s torturous to just watch you from the sidelines.

You stand in the middle of the stage, emotions at a high. “So, this next one goes out to my Ex.” The crowd goes wild. You turn to look at Butcher with a smile. “Because I know your fucking watching, bitch.”

He meets your gaze as you turn to look at him, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. His eyes roam over your figure as you speak to the crowd, his mind reeling with thoughts. A part of him is amused by your bold display, but another part wants to rip you off the stage and claim you then and there.

“My friends call me a loser

'Cause I'm still hanging around

I've heard so many rumors

That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

I thought you thought of me better

Someone you couldn't lose

You said We're not together

So now when we kiss, I have anger issues”

He listens intently as you sing the lyrics, his heart clenching in his chest at the truth behind them. The reminder of your failed relationship hits him like a ton of bricks, a pang of guilt mixing with the pain he feels.

He watches as you perform, his eyes locked on you, feeling torn between wanting to apologize and wanting to hold you tightly.

“You said, Baby, no attachment

But we're

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out

Is it casual now?

Two weeks and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach

Is it casual now?

I know what you tell your friends

It's casual if it's casual now

Then, baby, get me off again

If it's casual, it's casual now”

His breath hitches in his throat as you sing the lyrics, the words hitting him hard. It’s a painful reminder of the way he treated you, the way he couldn’t commit to anything more than casual.

He can feel the guilt and shame welling up inside of him, knowing that he didn’t treat you the way you deserved. He watches your performance, his expression a mix of pain and desire.

He watches as you exit the stage, making your way backstage to them. His heart is hammering in his chest, his palms sweaty. He knows that he needs to talk to you, to try and make things right.

Frenchie and Hughie are still chatting excitedly about the show, but he barely registers anything they’re saying. He only has eyes for you as you approach.

“I have to get out of these shoes.” You laugh. He lets out a gruff chuckle at your comment, his gaze still fixed on you intently. He can’t deny that he likes the sight of you in those sexy heels, but he knows you’re probably uncomfortable.

“Don’t blame you.” He mutters, his eyes roaming over your figure again.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to change.” You said and made your way into the dressing room.

Butcher takes a few seconds, trying to control the intense desire to go into the dressing room after you. But in the end, his need to see you again wins out. He glances towards Hughie and Frenchie, who are distracted talking about the show, before quietly following you to the dressing room.

The door opens and you jump in surprise. You hold up a blanket, shielding yourself. Only clad in a bra and panties. “What are you doing?”

He stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he takes in your almost naked form. He feels a rush of desire as he scans your body, his mind instantly flooded with thoughts of pulling you into his arms and claiming you right there.

At the sight of your surprised expression, he clears his throat, trying to compose himself. “Came to see you.” He mutters, taking a step closer to you.

“Um, well can it wait until I have fucking clothes on?” He glances over your form once more, lust clouding his mind. He can’t help but stare at your body, his eyes roaming over your frame.

“Not sure I can wait that long.” He mutters, taking another step towards you, his voice low and gruff.

Butcher crosses over to you. He pulls you closer, his hand gripping your waist with a firm, almost possessive, hold. He kisses you hungrily, his lips devouring yours with a mixture of desire and desperation.

He pushes you against the wall, trapping you between his body and the hard surface. He lets out a low growl against your lips, his tongue seeking access to your mouth.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily. His body is pressed against yours, holding you tightly against the wall, his hands roaming over your body as if memorizing every curve.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. He’s panting, his chest heaving as he gazes down at you, his expression filled with a mix of desire and something more… something vulnerable.

His eyes are intense and filled with a mixture of desire and guilt. He can’t bring himself to say the words, but the silent apology is there in his gaze.

His body is still pressed against yours, and he runs a hand down your side in a gentle caress. He looks like he wants to say something, but the words seem to get stuck in his throat. You mimic his words, “spit it out.”

A huff of annoyance leaves his lips at your use of his own words against him. He grumbles for a moment, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he looks into your eyes, his expression a mix of vulnerability and determination.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, his voice gravelly. “For how I treated you… for not treating you the way you deserved.” You place your hands on his cheeks, a smile on your face. “Just fucking kiss me.”

He grabs you once again, crushing his lips against yours hungrily. His hand grips the back of your neck, angling your head so he can deepen the kiss even further.

The following day, both Butcher and you are sitting on your couch. You’re leaning against him as he fiddles with your fingertips. The need to touch you is too great to just be near.

Hughie and Frenchie walk in and are taken aback by the two. Frenchie smirks, “So what is this now, huh?” You and Butcher look at each other. Butcher offers a smirk, “Well one thing it ain’t, is fucking casual.”

#butcher x reader #butcher the boys #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #william butcher #the boys fandom #the boys #hughie campbell #frenchie

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wings-of-sapphire · 10 months

Text

HELLO THERE LOVES I MADE A WISH REWRITE

I watched Wish twice (once on early screening day and once on the offices release date) and I fuckin loved it. But I feel like while this was a great movie, it was Disney’s 100th anniversary one and it needed like twenty minutes more or so to develop the characters and make it a truly spectacular celebration of 100 years of Disney.

I recently read about the concept pictures for Wish— Asha being the daughter of Magnifico, Star taking a human form and having a relationship with Asha— and I liked the idea of changing up the “quirky main character” idea as well. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with girls like Rapunzel or Mirabel. They’re fun, they’re optimistic, they’re hardworking and determined. Buuuuut as more of a pessimist myself I found my favorite character to be Gabo. The short pink sarcastic side friend based off of Grumpy. Yes, the friends are based off of the seven dwarfs. But ANYHOW— I thought maybe a return to the Classic Disney Princess attitude would be nice. So I chose Kusco. Because he’s the best Disney Princess out there.

I’ve been rambling long enough. Full rewrite under the cut! Will explain more in future posts! Ask any and all questions you’d like! Now, presenting my Wish rewrite~

💫 Asha is the princess of the kingdom of Rosas. Her parents, Magnifico and Amaya, built Rosas after Magnifico’s old kingdom was burned by greedy Wishers who used magic to give them whatever they wanted, which led to their own destruction.

Asha grew up in her kingdom learning that because her father kept the magic in check and only he granted wishes, Rosas could stay safe and happy. Asha gives tours of the city to people who sail in, and as they give their wishes to Magnifico, Rosas grows stronger and safer.

Welcome to Rosas

(Though she’s on carpets and stuff and there’s servants swarming her and she’s comfortable while giving the tour— we see Asha being kind to the child of the tour group)

Asha puts on a happy face for the tourists. But the people of Rosas say they know the “real” her. They hate their princess, truthfully. But they love her parents.

Asha doesn’t really have friends. She’s above that. She’s a princess and her parents founded this kingdom that literally granted people’s wishes. Sure, she sometimes lingers in the kitchen to hang out with Dahlia, the head chef. And sure, sometimes she wished wanted to hang out with them. Dahlia and her six friends whom Asha could never remember the names of. She calls them nicknames based on their characteristics. Easy and efficient. Dahlia is Doc, since she always patches her friends up. She said Asha couldn’t call her friend Stoner, so his name is Dopey (Dario). There’s Happy (Hal), Sleepy (Simon), Sneezy (Safi), Bashful (Bazeema), and Grumpy (Gabo). They’re all close-knit and trust each other with everything.

Asha doesn’t have that.

But she’s their princess. And she remains that way. Untouchable. Unbreakable.

Until one day, Grumpy Gabo says she’s not above them for any reason other than her title. That if ranks were stripped away, she’d be talentless and left behind.

Of course Asha can’t have that.

Soooooo she sneaks into her father’s study to get some of his magic.

What? He has a ton of it.

But then stuff goes awry. Asha tampers with Magnifico’s forbidden books and… nothing happens.

Grumpy laughs at her and Asha threatens to have him imprisoned if he doesn’t treat his princess with respect. Dahlia and the gang stand up for Grumpy and Asha storms off.

Amaya tries to comfort Asha when she runs to her room and throws herself on her bed and cries, princess-style, and Amaya and Asha talk about how Asha dreams of a group of friends she can have fun with and trust, and Asha says her brain knows what her wish was, and it was to become the most powerful sorceress princess in the lands just like her papa. Amaya says that a dream is a wish your heart makes, and Asha’s heart didn’t want to be the untouchable princess of Rosas. Her head may tell her that, but everyone needs connections.

It’s Magnifico that ends up cheering Asha up by bringing her to see the wishes of Rosas again.

At All Costs

Asha calls Magnifico “Papa” and Amaya “Mama” by the way

That night, Asha tosses and turns, and we see the magic swirls from the book start to gather around her, then shoots into the sky as she shoots up, panting.

Turns out she accidentally ripped a star out of the sky. Asha runs after the giant comet fall, where a young man is floating in a crater in the forest.

The star had taken the shape of a young man. Who can fly. And bring objects to life for a bit.

He’s glowing yellow and wears a dark teal-blue velvet cape and his glow turns pink when he spots Asha.

When Asha freaks out and grabs the boy— she’s calling him Star— and hides his glow with her pajama cloak, and asks how the heck did this happen?

Star shrugs and says he was just chilling in space when the force of someone’s dream pulled him down to land.

Asha quietly excitedly stims, saying she can’t wait to rub Star in Grumpy’s face, and Star is like please don’t rub me in someone’s face, sweetheart.

Sweetheart?

Asha glares at Star, who smirks.

Asha exclaims that anyways— she knew she was a powerful sorceress, and Star says he senses no magic on Asha.

Asha says she must’ve had magic in her, or else how could she have ripped a star from the sky?

Star says people can learn magic but right now, Asha was inexperienced. It was probably because of her connection to the stars.

That means—

No, it’s not just you. All people are connected to the stars.

You’re a Star

Asha takes Star back to her room and says they can’t let her dad know she used his books to summon Star— but maybe Grumpy would need more proof. Maybe she could sneak a peek at his book again, and summon more stars to prove to Doc and the gang that she has talent and she was sooooo qualified to be their fr— sorcerer princess.

She tells Star to stay put in her room, and she’d sneak out and take a quick look.

Star asks if he can come with.

He just got ripped from the sky and needs some more exposition than “I don’t know.” And he’s too impatient to wait for Asha to come back.

Asha says he’ll have to learn and Star magically locks the doors until Asha explains something about how he was brought here.

“You made trees dance the hula and we rode here on a singing deer.”

Star gives Asha a look.

Asha pinches the bridge of her nose and explains that her papa’s whole family was killed because of the greedy wishmakers. With him in charge, he gets to choose, and people are safe.

Star says that the people deserve more, and Asha snaps that get family decides what everyone deserves because they’re the rulers of Rosas.

Star smirks at her and says she’s adorable when she’s mad. But, she’s wrong. The people deserve a chance to get their wishes returned so they can become dreams that can be achieved by pure hard work.

Asha says they’re the same thing, and Star shakes his head. “A wish you give away. A dream you keep with you to work hard and achieve your heart’s goal.”

“Wow, you have a great personality.”

Asha rolls her eyes and says Star can come, but he has to be quiet.

In Magnifico’s study, Asha sees Star heading to the wish room, and before she can grab him, he opens the doors and sees the wishes of Rosas.

Star is amazed and Asha sighs and walks up next to them. She looks up and closes her eyes and bathes in the feeling.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yeah… they are.”

Star quickly turns to look at the wishes above them, his glow pink.

They end up arguing again because Star wants to return the wishes to the people so they can become dreams once again and Asha says her father worked hard on protecting them

Out in the hallways, Asha ends up shoving Star into a nearby room when she hears Doc and her friends come by

Asha smooths down her skirt and holds her head high as she walks by and calls to Grumpy. She smirks and says unfortunately, they were incorrect about her being talentless. In fact, she was so powerful, she ripped a star from the sky.

Behold.

She opens the door (which turns out led to the chicken coops) where Star was chilling in the sunlight where his glow looked normal.

“You brought us all here to check out your boyfriend?”

“Hal!”

Asha rushes to explain that no, Happy, he was the star. She orders Star to step out of the sun.

Star crosses his arms.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Dahlia and her friends all gasp and start planning Star’s funeral.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m a star. If you ever want your dream to come to fruition you have to be nice to people you want to befriend. Go on. Apologize and then ask me nicely.”

Dahlia and friends are now forgoing that funeral, there will be no remains left to bury.

But then Asha flares her nostrils, taps her foot, then glances at Doc. She averts her eyes and mutters, “sorry for being mean to Grumpy. Star, can you… can you please show them?”

Jaws: dropped. Wigs: snatched. Princess Asha of Rosas, apologizing and saying “please”? Sure, she cared for her people. But she never apologized if she accidentally ran into someone for walking in their way! It was her way! She was the only one who’s way mattered!

Star smiled and thanked Asha, then steps out of the sun to reveal his glow.

Jaws: even dropped-er. Wigs: even snatched-er.

After the initial “ooh”s, [something something]

Asha tells everyone that because she’s a star, she was able to be this powerful. They should all be impressed.

Star then corrects her by saying everyone was made of stardust and therefore had a connection to the stars and magic.

When Gabo laughs, Asha throws a fork at him and tells him to do that to himself.

Magnifico is calling Asha for a family meeting, and she says it’s probably about tonight’s wish ceremony. Dario’s Sabi who’s turning 100 today wants to get his wish picked. He doesn’t remember what it is as all wish-givers forget, but he knows it has something to do with his sickness. Asha tells everyone else to keep quiet about Star, or else. And with that, she leaves the room.

Star opens his arms and asks which of the group wants to help him commit a crime.

“What?”

He wants to break into Magnifico’s study and return the wishes to the people of Rosas.

Gabo snaps at him that they can’t just steal from the king and queen, and everyone else agrees. But Dahlia purses her lips. “Why?”

Dario asks if he wants to betray his girlfriend like that, to which Star turns pink and rolled his eyes saying they were not dating, in fact, they were enemies! She was uptight and didn’t care about anything but her title, scoff!

“Uh huh. Sure, buddy.”

“Gabo, stop talking.”

“Yes Bazeema.”

Star explains that losing people’s wishes made them lose a part of themselves. The most beautiful part, their heart’s dream. He tells Simon that his heart is sad.

He asks that if he returns Simon’s wish back to him, and it does make him whole again, then would they believe him?

Dahlia shakes her head and says they wouldn’t be part of this. But… they wouldn’t mention anything to Magnifico or Amaya. For the time being.

Star thanks Dahlia, and she says this was for Simon. And if Asha also changes her mind, then that’s a bonus. Then she smiles. “Good luck, kid.”

Magnifico called Asha to talk with her and Amaya about a threat that’s happened to the kingdom. Last night, someone harnessed the magic of a star and ripped it from the sky, which disturbed the wishes and his magic. Someone has threatened him, and this was a warning that something was to come. He couldn’t let that fire happen again.

Amaya and Asha calm his worries, and Magnifico says he doesn’t want the people to lose faith in him. Amaya says she will explain to the people about the giant light last night since they were asking questions, but they shouldn’t let it worry them.

“Thank you, darling.”

“You’ve got this, papa. I’m sure whoever bashed that light meant you no harm.”

“Thank you, Asha.”

Star asks Asha to spend the day with him, to which she agrees until the wish ceremony that night. The two have a day in Rosas, Tangled-style. Romantic montage, beautiful moments, Star sneaking glances at Asha when she isn’t looking and Asha doing the same for him.

Star shows Asha how to be messy and see the beauties of life while Asha shows Star how she actually does have good in her and cares for her people, truly. Star gives Asha a small wand to practice some small magic as a gift. While she shows him the study, he sneaks into Magnifico’s office and steals Simon’s wish.

Star returns to the seven and gives Simon back his wish. His dream was to become the kingdom’s best knight— and now he could achieve that! They show Asha how much happier Simon is with his whole self again, and while Asha is happy for Simon and that the seven are being kind to her (after she’s been kind to them), she asks Star to promise not to steal stuff from her papa without running it by her first.

“I promise, sweetheart.”

Safi asks Asha if she can get her papa to grant his Sabi’s wish, or at least return it so he could have a chance at fulfilling his dream like Simon now can. Maybe it would reveal a way Sabino could live longer.

Asha hesitates.

In her room, Asha paces. Her papa said that if people kept their wishes, they’d be dangerous and bring another fire to burn down their kingdom. But Simon seemed so happy. She didn’t know what to do.

Later, in the wish ceremony, all her friends are happy and excited for Safi’s Sabi. Sabino only has a few weeks left to live, and if this month his wish is granted, Safi can keep his Sabi with him.

Asha did talk to Magnifico but Amaya reminded her of the dangers of people chasing wishes in the wind. They showed Asha that Sabi Sabino’s wish was too dangerous, his heart’s dream was live forever. Sure, he was sick now, but once he gets better from that, who knows what immortality will do? Magnifico revealed the true story of their home using magical glass shards—

Backstory details that’s tragic and sad

Basically a king wanted to be immortal and it led to him going insane which led to the destruction of his kingdom

He sent his son away before the whole place burned to ashes

Magnifico was that son

A Wish Worth Making (?)

Asha agrees with him that that can never happen, and Sabino’s wish must never be granted and only the royal family can keep Rosas safe.

At the ceremony

Magnifico doesn’t grant Sabino’s wish and Amaya makes a public statement about how wishes were kept with him to stay safe and anyone who tried to oppose that rule was a danger to everyone in Rosas and a traitor to the crown.

Star calls them out for this and while Simon hides his glow with his huge body, the seven create a ripple effect through the crowd with questions that question the king and queen’s authority. They bring up how Amaya reassured them but this contradicted her words. Magnifico ends the ceremony and storms up to the royal master room with Amaya.

Asha and Star have an argument, with her saying her parents were good people and him saying that Safi’s Sabi will die because her parents were scared, and with that Asha flares her nostrils and says that she is the princess, and as their superior, they should watch their tone before something bad happens.

Safi is heartbroken. Without that wish, his Sabi will die.

Dahlia comforts him, and Star steels himself.

Star tells the group that they’re going to steal all the wishes. And return the dreams of the people back to them. Especially Safi’s Sabi.

“But Asha—“

“I’ll tell her when she comes back. We need to do this now.”

Back at the castle, Magnifico is pacing angrily in his room with Amaya. How dare these people question them? They’re doing everything in their power to prevent that (points to a burned tapestry of young Magnifico and his family) from happening again!

This is the Thanks I Get?!

Amaya also joins in

Cutscenes of the seven + Star breaking into the wish room again

Meanwhile, Asha goes back to talk to her parents. Maybe talk to them about Sabino again, maybe tell them everything, who knows—

Wait. There’s a noise in the wish room.

Asha uses her magic wand to open it and sees Star using his magic to lift the roof open to free the wishes. But it isn’t enough. They need more people; the roof is too heavy.

There’s a small magic scuffle with Asha and her wand against Star and his magic, and Asha ends up beating Star (much to his surprise and he’s totally not turned on by this which is why he’s bright red he’s not at all attracted to powerful women). Her heart breaks and she yells at him and all the seven and says if they ever show their faces around her again she’d banish them from Rosas.

“Sweet—“

“Don’t call me that name! Just— just go!”

“Asha, please. Safi’s Sabi—

“Go!”

Star stays and says he’ll be back to free the wishes and return them to the people. Sabino’s sickness has gotten worse, and he can’t wait another month for Magnifico to turn him down once again.

Asha snaps and yells at him a lot and blames him for everything that’s happened lately, the chickens, and the chalk drawing, and the dancing in the city square, and especially that sticky feeling in her chest when Star’s giving her those sad looks. So she doesn’t want to see him again.

She goes to snitch then sees the Epic Celestial Villains her parents had shifted into. Both of them used forbidden magic in the other section of the book Asha used. She asked if she had forbidden magic in her too, but they tell her she wasn’t powerful enough to handle this magic.

Their magic swirling fog is telling them via shapes that Asha was the one that ripped a star from the sky.

They’re acting different— they barely acknowledge Asha and demand that she tells them where Star is.

They crushed wishes to give them power, and Asha is of course horrified.

She saw how happy Simon was, and now those people…

Her parents weren’t survivors.

They were just power-hungry.

And now this forbidden magic was changing them.

They demand Asha tells them where Star was so they could siphon his galaxy magic and become the supreme rulers of Rosas— no one would never question them again.

Asha tells them she doesn’t know, and Magnifico uses his magic fog on Asha to make her tell them that Sleepy, Grumpy, Happy, Dopey, Sneezy, and Doc probably did know.

Amaya tells Asha she was grounded. She says Asha should sit down in her room and wait for the new era to rise.

Asha runs back to her room and cries, princess-style, and speaks out to the sky, to Star, that he was right. He was telling the truth, her parents weren’t good. And now she didn’t know what to do.

This Wish

Yeah she says she’s the first to stand in line but she’s been told that all her life okay

Magnifico makes an announcement to the people of Rosas that the entity that came from the sky was named Star, and he, along with Simon, Gabo, Hal, Dario, Safi, and Bazeema were conspiring to commit treason. He says to find them all and get him Star’s powers do he can grant all of their wishes!

Asha runs after the seven and sees them arrested by other citizens, with Gabo cursing everyone out. Magnifico waves his hand and mutes Gabo. Asha commands the soldiers to give her the satisfaction of imprisoning these traitors and interrogates them in the carriage driving them to the prison with guards posted by.

She asks all of them where Star was, and they refuse to listen to her. They’re cold because she sort of beat them up with her magic. She says as their princess, they have to tell her.

“You all are underneath me. I am your future queen. Tell me where Star is. This is important.” She turns to the shortest in the carriage. “My parents are looking for him. Gabo, if you know where he is, you have to tell me.”

Gabo’s eyes flicker up at her saying his actual name. He glances at Dahlia, who sighs. She says that even if they wanted to, they couldn’t hand Star over, because he was already gone. He was at the place Asha first starting falling in love with him.

The guards raise an eyebrow at Asha, and she says the fools were so simple-minded that they believed her lie. Then she tells Sabi to shut up and stop sneezing.

She says the forest was where she first found Star, and Magnifico creates a dark fog horse to ride out and find Star.

Once she’s sure he’s gone, Asha whips out her magic wand and blasts the doors open. She apologizes to the seven and says nothing could make up for imprisoning them and lording her title over them, but she needed their help to help Star.

Asha and the seven run back to the Rosas town square where Star is rallying the people and telling them the truth about Magnifico and Amaya. The crowd gathers to help pull open the roofs to free the wishes.

Knowing What I Know Now

Asha joins in and leads the people

Asha apologizes to Star for yelling at him and he apologizes to her for going behind her back. He says she deserved to know. Before they go, Asha tells Star to wait.

“That… feeling. That I mentioned before? I think… I think they’re feelings. For you.”

Star’s glow slightly turns pink. “Like, do you mean…”

“Yes. Feelings of affection. I just… wanted to let you know.”

“Sweetheart, you should know I feel the same. Have since I first laid eyes on you.”

“I am pretty beautiful.”

“The beautiful-est.”

Asha laughs. “That’s not a word.”

“She’s right, it’s not,” Dahlia quips.

The two pull back and laugh awkwardly.

The seven lead the people of Rosas to help lift the roofs, but Amaya catches them and there’s a magic battle where Amaya turns into a dragon a la Malifacent. Star helps Asha suck out the evil magic, and Amaya falls to the floor. The roof is opened, and the wishes began to flow out.

Then Star is grabbed from the back by a fog hand and Magnifico tuts, telling Asha he’s disappointed in her. But now that he has the power of a Star, no one will ever question him again.

He ties down every single person and closes the roof, draining Star’s essence into his magical staff.

Asha yells and uses her magic wand against him, and the two have a giant blast of magic against each other, but the energy is draining Asha while Star’s is giving Magnifico more strength.

Star weakly whispers to Asha to remember where she came from.

Magnifico snarls do Asha that she is nothing, and Asha remembers.

“We… are… stars.”

Asha’s blast of magic is battling Magnifico’s but he’s still stronger.

Asha cries out a plea to the people, these stars just like her, and Dahlia responds.

This Wish (Reprise)

The strengths of these stars give Star enough energy to break free from Magnifico’s staff and fly over to Asha’s side, and the magic blast shines bright and blasts Magnifico back, burning away the evil magic.

When the dark clouds clear and the night sky is sparkling once again, Magnifico isn’t moving. Amaya and Asha run to him, and Amaya cries over his body. She apologizes to Star for what they did, and asks if she can help her husband.

Star sadly tells her that his powers weren’t strong enough for that.

Amaya cries, and kisses Magnifico’s lips. Then, her star soul orb thing in her chest glows bright, and Magnifico’s does too. His body glows that shimmering yellow and he’s lifted into the air and the last bit of evil magic is burned away.

Asha asks Star what he’s doing and Star says he’s not doing anything!

Suddenly, Magnifico’s eyes open and he gasps, then falls.

Amaya and Asha rush to catch him, and Magnifico asks what happened.

Star shrugs and says some sort of True Love’s Kiss.

Magnifico and Amaya walk up behind Asha and address the people of Rosas. They apologize for what they did and they know nothing could ever make up for it. But… they promise to keep working to be the best king and queen they can be. If the people will still accept them. Also, they should have what’s rightfully theirs.

Magnifico uses his magic to lift the roof and release the wishes of Rosas back to their people. Amaya tells them that now they have a chance to fulfill their dreams, and she and Magnifico will be behind them every step of the way.

Dahlia steps foreword and thanks them for apologizing.

Basically they can still remain king and queen but they start a council of representatives where people can address them directly about problems and stuff

Then, Asha turns to the seven and says she has to apologize to them. For treating them all so poorly in the past.

They forgive her, and when she asks how they can do something like that so easily, Dahlia smiles. “It’s what friends do.”

“…friends?”

“Do you have a hearing problem, or something?”

“Gabo!”

“Sorry, Bazeema!”

Asha laughs and turns to Star who spins her around.

“I have friends!”

“You have friends!”

Meanwhile, Gabo whispers to Simon how they ever feared the princess. She was just a sad, lonely, friendless girl.

Asha turns to her wand and discovers it broken in half when she was blasted backwards.

Star restores her wand, and she says she’s going to be the most powerful sorceress in the history of ever and Gabo says she looks like a stupid fairy.

Asha glares.

“A fairy godmother,” Gabo smirks.

Star laughs and says that sounds amazing and Asha groans and bites back a smile.

Star smiles at the family, but he looks sad still. Asha holds his hands and he rubs her thumb.

“You have to return to the sky, don’t you?”

“If I had a choice, I’d choose to stay by your side.”

“I’ll keep on wishing on stars. I’ll find a way to bring you back.”

He tells Asha that they’ve learned that sending your greatest desires into the universe in hopes that they’ll be answered doesn’t do anything. It didn’t work for Magnifico, and it didn’t work for Asha. Instead, the people of Rosas should work to achieve their dreams.

Asha says she’ll work to achieve a way to find him again, then. Since she was going to be the most powerful sorceress—

“Fairy godmother~”

“Shut up Gabo.”

—she’d find a way.

Star smiles and says she’s his dream girl, and Asha jokes that’s he’s got to work to achieve her.

Star flips his cape and says it’ll be easy since he’s so absurdly handsome, and Asha snorts as she pulls him down and raises an eyebrow at him. Star turns a bright pink, then rolls his eyes as he smiles and pulls Asha up in the air with him by her waist, and the two kiss.

When they finally separate, Star is vibrating happily and he accidentally shoots out a magic blast at a nearby chicken, which makes it grow big and lay a giant egg on Gabo.

Star winks at her and returns to the sky.

EDIT BC I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO ADD THIS BUT

ASHA DOES END UP USING HER FAIRY GODMOTHER POWERS TO HEAL SAFI’S SABI

MAYBE SHE MAKES A MAGIC FLOWER FROM A SUNDROP AND DAHLIA COOKS A PETAL INTO A COOKIE THAT HEALS SABINO

THEN BEFORE STAR LEAVES HE PROMISES TO HIDE THE GLOWER IN A FAR AWAY KINGDOM EHERE NO ONE WOULD BE ABLE TO EXPLOIT IT FOR IMMORTALITY (*side eyes Gothel*)

HE DOES END UP GETTING HEALED OK THE PEEPAW DOESN’T DIE

#disney wish #princess asha #wish asha #wish movie #asha wish #wish disney #wish 2023 #king magnifico #queen amaya #wish #disney #disney 100 #disney anniversary #walt disney animation studios #rewrite #au #rewriting #writing by sapphire

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the-boy-meets-evil · 10 months

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take my hands (we can fall together) | lee chan | pt 1

(where you and chan are friends, but he's your brother's best friend. and you've always been just a little out of reach. until one season changes everything.) pairing: brother's best friend!chan (dino) x f!reader genre: friends to ??, pining, slow burn | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut rating: explicit (for the full fic) warnings/notes: mentions of unhealthy relationships (reader x boyfriend), mentions of food, mentions of drinking/alcohol, lots of stereotypical fall activities, reader's brother is chan's age and reader is 2 years older, eventual smut (in pt 3 - see that for warnings), any names of other idols are considered to be OCs word count: ~6.5k (full fic is roughly 23k) a/n: huge thanks to @svthub for hosting this fall collab. check out the full list of fics here. this is part 1, the full fic is in 3 parts and the dates for the next 2 parts are at the bottom. also thank you to my bby indi for beta reading @wongyuseokie and creating an amazing banner @classicscreations. if you want to be tagged in the next 2 parts, send an ask or dm or just comment 💕

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Fall has never been Chan’s favorite season. The weather cools down, but it’s in this weird in-between. One day, it’s cold enough for heavy jackets, and the next it’s almost warm enough to wear shorts. It starts to get dark too early as the days get shorter, which makes it feel like there’s just less time in the day. Or, even worse, there are days when Chan leaves the apartment in the dark and returns in the dark. Everything feels like it’s dying with the leaves falling. It seems like it should be a season of thankfulness and friends and holidays, but it just ends up feeling like an ending in a bad way. He’s not cynical, he’s just not really sure he likes this time of year.

“I wish I had someone to do fall things with me,” you announce to nobody in particular.

Okay, well maybe Chan needs to rethink this whole opinion on the season. Because here’s the other thing, he’s always been drawn to you. Sure, you’re his friend. It’s just, he’s always been closer to your brother, Jay. Always a little envious, too. You and Jay are friends as much as siblings, despite you being two years older. So much so that your friend group is somewhat merged. Chan knows that Jay has friends you don’t hang around with and that the same goes for you. It’s still nice, though. Seeing the two of you, he understands what it means to love family and also like them.

Yet in all those years of friendship, Chan can still remember the moment when he started seeing you differently. You’d called Jay late one night, no text or anything, and Jay picked up right away because it was so unlike you. It was your first real breakup, a guy you met and started dating in college, the only time you and Jay had been really separated. Even if the separation was only a two hour drive. You were so devastated that Jay switched to a video call and convinced you to come home for the weekend. All Chan can remember is how much he wanted to protect you from ever feeling that way again. He knew you didn’t deserve the way that guy made you feel. Then, the new school year came around, and he and Jay were on campus with you. The draw has only gotten stronger since then.

“Isn’t that what you have a boyfriend for?” Jay asks.

You roll your eyes affectionately. “He doesn’t really like the fall. Plus, he’s super busy with work projects. He doesn’t want to go pick apples or adventuring or any of that stuff.”

The way you play it off feels casual, like it doesn’t actually matter. Your eyes tell a different story. Chan’s heart breaks a little as he does everything he can to not show it. Jay, unfortunately for you, also notices.

“Is everything okay with…shit, what’s his name?” Jay asks.

“Come on, Jay, they hard launched like 6 months ago, shouldn’t you know his name by now?” Lisa, ever the best friend to you, chimes in.

“Ease up, Lisa,” you say, voice a little tired. “Things with Seungsik are fine, he’s just busy right now.”

“Hey,” Jay starts.

“We can always do fall stuff with you,” Chan hears himself offer without even realizing he’s saying anything. Several pairs of eyes shoot to him.

“Bro, you hate fall shit,” Vernon scoffs.

“I do not,” Chan retorts.

“Since when? I had to twist your arm for Friendsgiving last year,” Jay counters.

“That is true,” Lisa agrees.

“No you too,” Chan directs at Lisa.

“That’s really sweet, Channie,” you cut across the bickering. It takes everything in him to remain neutral at your compliment and the use of a nickname. “Maybe we can do some stuff as a group. I feel like Fall is the time for friends anyway.”

There’s a smattering of agreement, names thrown out of other friends that aren’t there, lighthearted eye rolls at how into this season you are, and more than a glance or two in Chan’s direction. He does his best to ignore those. He doesn’t need to think about them right now. All he can really focus on is that he agreed to get up insanely early on Sunday morning so that you could take this train ride that you’ve wanted to do in the Fall to see all the trees changing colors. Especially since the colors are more vibrant this year. Which is fine. Chan doesn’t really mind being up early, but nobody else is committing to go. Not even your brother. The fact that you seem unbothered at it being just you and him makes Chan’s stomach flip.

Chan is nervous when it comes time to leave for the train ride. You offered to pick him up since you were dragging him out of the warmth of his bed so early in the morning and even said he didn’t have to go through with it. Which meant you probably wouldn’t go through with it because the two other people that had tentatively agreed backed out the night before. Even over text, Chan could tell that you were disappointed at the thought of not going. And even he had to admit that he was curious about the draw of this particular activity. So off you went.

It only takes one day for Chan to start changing his opinion on the season. Or, one person. There’s something about the way your face lights up the second you’re on the train that takes him over as well. You’re more excited, still, that the train doesn’t seem that crowded, so the two of you will have your own little area to sit in without anyone else that close by. Sheepishly, you admit that the train runs multiple times a day, but this gives you the most time at the top of the mountain. Taking advantage of how rare it is to spend time alone with you, Chan asks you what exactly it is that you love about Fall. Maybe if he hears from someone who loves it, he’ll see it differently.

He watches as your face transforms. Your eyes get wide, and a genuine smile spreads across your face, gone just long enough to ask if he’s sure. All Chan can do is laugh because it’s so endearing. But he nods, and you’re like a kid at Christmas. You start with the leaves as the train pulls away from the station. There’s more to them than just changing color and falling to the ground, at least to you. Yes, they’re pretty, like shades of gold fluttering along with the wind and bringing good fortune. You liken it to growth in a way Chan never considered. Sure, the leaves are changing color and dying. It’s also about growth and release. Trees need to let go of their leaves so they can go into their next phase. So they can be ready to grow new leaves and new life in the spring. You don’t get that without the release in the Fall.

You like the way things taste fresher, too. The way apples feel crisper because it’s when they were meant to be enjoyed. The way vanilla and cinnamon just warm your soul with everything they’re baked into. You love the comfort, like a warm blanket, of just being able to bake so many things. When Chan points out that you bake all year around, you get that playful smile again. You agree and disagree at the same time. You can bake all year round, but certain things were just meant for when the weather starts to get colder.

Most of all, you really just feel like it’s a positive change. Of learning to let go of all the things that are holding you back. Of cutting out those parts of life that feel dead or stagnant. Of starting the process to allow new things to grow. Chan doesn’t mention that maybe you’re not as good at that part as you want to think. He can tell you want to be, but he wonders if you realize there’s someone in your life who really isn’t adding anything to it anymore. He doesn’t mention Seungsik and neither do you.

When you get to the top and step off the train, Chan gasps at the sight. He’s never really stopped to appreciate nature like this and it’s overwhelming in the best way. It makes him feel kind of small, except it’s not a bad feeling, and he’s really glad that you suggested taking the early train because it means the top of the mountain isn’t crowded. He’s so busy taking in the clear views that go on for miles that he doesn’t even notice the way your face lights up watching his reaction. He can’t possibly know how full your heart is at him being so present.

“This is beautiful,” he whispers. It seems like a crime to disrupt the peace.

“Yeah, it is,” you agree. There’s something in the way you say it that makes Chan look over at you. By the time he looks, though, your eyes are on the horizon as well.

“Have you done this before? I don’t feel like I remember Jay talking about it at all,” Chan asks, still watching you.

You stiffen for a second in a way that’s entirely at odds with the mention of your brother. Or maybe your mind is a million miles away. That’s another thing that Chan’s always found so interesting about you. There’s a brightness and a lightness about you, but there’s also a sense of mystery. LIke there are parts of yourself that you always hold back. Like you want to appear to be entirely open, even though you’re not. Like there are secret parts that only your closest relationships get to know.

“Jay wouldn’t have,” you finally answer with a smile. “Our grandparents brought me when we were both still little. But Jay wasn’t interested, so he stayed with our parents. I’ve wanted to do it again as an adult, but you know, life happens.”

“Anyone who cares about you would want to see this,” Chan admits as he looks out at the views again.

It’s too honest, and Chan knows it, but there’s just something about this kind of environment that makes him want to admit things he shouldn’t. Or wouldn’t, normally. There’s something like anonymity surrounded by this much nature. It reminds you just how small people are in comparison. He’s also thankful that you seem to be agreeing that you can say those unspoken things here. That is, until he feels your hand on his arm, turning him to look at you.

“Thank you, Chan,” you say with more sincerity than he’s ever heard in all the time he’s known you. “I care about you, too.”

“I, um,” Chan starts and clears his throat. “You’re welcome.”

“We’ve never hung out like this, just the two of us,” you say, still watching him.

“No, we haven’t,” Chan agrees because it’s all he can do to hold onto his rapidly slipping composure.

“I was…okay, this is gonna sound dumb, but I was a little nervous. That’s why I tried to give you an out,” you say. Your voice is soft and you look down at your feet. Like it’s too much to admit while looking at Chan and when it’s so quiet all around you.

“I almost took it,” Chan tells you.

“Why didn’t you? Weren’t you worried?” you wonder.

Chan shrugs to buy himself a second. “Because it was important to you. I figured it was better to roll the dice and risk it being a little awkward so you didn’t miss out.”

You turn away, but Chan catches the look on your face anyway. Catches the way you take a steadying breath. Can’t miss the way you try to hide as you wipe away a tear. The last thing he wanted to do was make you upset. And even though his heart is racing, he pulls you into a hug. He’s not sure what else to do except whisper sorries against your hair.

“No, no, no,” you finally say. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I made you cry,” Chan disagrees.

“No, you didn’t. It’s just so insanely sweet that I was overwhelmed for a minute,” you tell him.

“Guess it was awkward after all,” Chan says. It’s a little self-deprecating.

“No, it wasn’t,” you assure him. “This is so much more than I could have asked for. I’m just, I guess I’m not really used to people doing things like this for me.”

Chan is thankful he’s not holding you anymore because there’s no way to hide the way his heart tries to beat out of his chest. All he can do is smile and hope that you can’t read his thoughts because they’re a weird mix. His heart is full that you’re so appreciative of something that seems so small. Sure, life is short, and there are only so many days. But it’s also too short to pass up on opportunities to see something different like this. To actually stop and experience the world around you instead of just rushing to the next day. His heart also breaks at the idea of you not being used to people doing things like this for you. Because it seems so small. It doesn’t seem like some huge thing to do. Chan and Jay have been friends for more than 10 years, so he’s known you for a long time. He knows that you don’t have the best taste in partners. Still, though. He can’t imagine something so small being so impactful to you.

The two of you mostly stick close together, or at least within eyesight of each other. There’s so much to see at the top of the mountain. Little signs seem to ring around the edges, telling people what they’re looking at or giving a history. Each one makes Chan appreciate the views even more. Every once in a while, he also catches you watching him and smiling, like you’re still checking that he’s enjoying himself. He can’t say that, of course, he’s enjoying himself, he’s with you, but he tries to smile back every time.

Eventually, you suggest having lunch at the restaurant next to the little station where the train stops. He’s been so busy taking in his surroundings that he doesn’t even realize that he’s hungry. Right on queue, his stomach grumbles at the mention of food, and you laugh it off. Once you’re sitting down, you can’t seem to settle on one thing for lunch. Without thinking, Chan suggests that you just share a few different things so you can try what you want. Who knows when you’ll be back up here again? Although you seem hesitant at first, a little reassurance from Chan goes a long way. That and him insisting he’ll be happy with whatever you order.

It’s truly an entirely perfect day, one neither of you really wants to end, even if you won’t admit it to the other. But you have to take the train down eventually and come back to reality.

“Sorry I have to take this,” you say with a frown at your phone.

Chan thinks it says Seungsik, which makes him frown, too. It takes a real effort for him not to follow you out of the room with his eyes. Not that Jay, Seokmin, or Jiyeon would notice. They’re currently locked in a Mario Kart battle, with Jiyeon winning yet again. Chan risks a glance in your direction and makes a snap decision.

“Do you guys want anything from the kitchen?” Chan asks.

“Yeah, something to drink,” Seokmin says.

“Is losing making you thirsty?” Jiyeon teases.

“You can’t win forever, Ji,” Jay shoots back. “Come on, Seok, we can work together on this.”

“That’s cheating,” Jiyeon giggles.

Chan ignores the banter to go to the kitchen. Ostensibly, he’s actually planning to get drinks for the group in the living room. Realistically, he’s curious about what’s making you frown and if you’re okay. From his spot in the kitchen, he can hear your voice drifting through the door of Jay’s bedroom. It’s hard to focus on getting drinks.

“I understand that your work is important, but,” you start, working to stay quiet despite the annoyance in your voice.

Maybe this was a bad idea because he wishes he could hear the other side. Or at least know for sure that it was Seungsik.

“Yes, I’m aware that you think it’s just a stupid Fall tradition,” you huff. “No, baby, I’m not saying your work doesn’t matter. It’s the weekend, though.”

Well, at least he knows that it’s Seungsik. Not that it makes it any better.

“That’s not fair, baby. I’m not saying that I don’t want you to work hard or try to get that promotion. You know how much I support you. It’s just I want to matter too,” you say, and Chan’s heart fully breaks at the heartbreak in your voice.

What is wrong with this man that he can’t take a second away from work to spend time with one of the most beautiful people in the world?

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you in weeks. You’re always working or networking and…” you trail off. “No, I do get that networking is part of the job, and you’re up for a promotion…Wow, yes, I do get how hard your job is. But do you get that you keep making promises to me and breaking them?”

There’s a bite to your voice that’s entirely foreign to Chan. It’s also at complete odds with the undercurrent of defeat. There are two sides warring during this conversation, and Chan doesn’t really recognize either of them.

“It’s not just some stupid fall tradition,” you say. It’s without any bite now. You’re defeated. “It’s…yeah, I get it. You think it’s dumb. It’s fine, I understand you won’t be coming.”

It feels like the conversation is probably ending, so Chan turns his back away from the bedroom to focus on drinks. All he can do is hope that nothing about his posture gives him away. But he can’t help listening anyway, and he hears you ending the phone call before shuffling towards the kitchen all the same.

“Oh,” you nearly gasp.

As casually as he can manage, Chan turns around towards your voice with a bag of chips in one hand. That plan goes out the window when he sees you rubbing your eyes. All he wants is to be able to protect you from the world. Because you deserve better. Not that he thinks he’s better. He just knows you deserve more than this. More than being unhappy every time he sees you.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chan asks. He meant to ask if you wanted anything to drink, yet couldn’t ignore your frown.

“How long have you been in here?” you ask.

Chan shrugs. “Not long, just came to get them some drinks and figured I’d grab chips. Do you want anything?”

“That’s a loaded question,” you say under your breath.

“You okay?” Chan asks again. He knows you’re not, but he doesn’t really want to admit that he was listening to your side of the conversation.

“Can I…ugh, this is so weird, but can I just have a hug?” Your eyes are a little wide and a whole lot vulnerable.

It’s silly, but he would give you anything if it meant that you wouldn’t look broken. No, that’s the wrong word. There’s nothing wrong with being a little broken. It’s just that he wishes Seungsik wasn’t letting you down time after time. Chan sets down the chips and opens his arms without a word. There’s relief on your face as you step forward and wrap your arms around his middle. Your head rests on his shoulder and he feels the moment that your body releases the tension. Feels the moment when your breathing relaxes to match his own. When you step away, your eyes at least look a little happier.

“It’s never weird to ask for a hug from a friend,” Chan tells you.

You laugh at that, a real laugh, and for a second, Chan wonders why. “You seem to be getting a lot of my emotional side lately.”

Chan just shrugs again. “I’m happy to see whatever side you wanna show me.”

Just then, Jay comes into the kitchen, grumbling about losing another game. He doesn’t even look at Chan or you before going to grab the drinks on the counter. It’s probably the perfect timing so that Chan doesn’t say anything else that’s too honest.

“I thought you were leaving,” Jay says to you.

“Wow, trying to get rid of me already?” you ask without any of the normal teasing Jay is used to.

“Of course not. I just thought you were going apple picking with Seungsik,” Jay answers.

It’s then that he seems to really look at you and realizes something is wrong. He looks like he’s about to take back his words when you open your mouth. “No, he’s too busy with something for work. So I’ll probably just stick around here.”

Chan looks at your brother and hopes he picks up the same wavelength. It seems he does because he sighs in resignation. But it’s a mark of how concerned he is that he doesn’t mention Seungsik being a dick for this. “Why don’t we go with you?”

“What?” you ask.

“Hey,” Jay calls into the living room. “Who wants to go apple picking?”

“I’m in, beating you and Seokmin is getting boring,” Jiyeon answers.

“You haven’t won every one,” Seokmin whines.

“You don’t have to do this,” you say softly to your brother.

“Oh, are we going with you?” Jiyeon asks. “I’m in. Can I call Vernon and drag him along?”

“We should ask Lisa if she wants to come too. She loves that stuff,” Seokmin suggests. “I haven’t actually gone apple picking in forever.”

“It’s a lost cause,” Chan tells you, “we’re all going apple picking now.”

“Fine,” you pretend to sigh, “but can I ride with you? Jay’s a shitty driver.”

“I resent that,” Jay scoffs.

It takes a little time to let everyone know where to meet, but Jay manages to wrangle the group well enough so that they all make it to the orchard. True to your word, you ride with Chan. Jay and Jiyeon go to pick up Vernon, and Seokmin goes to pick up Lisa and Mina. Once everyone is there and the bags are bought, groups start to wander off in different directions to look for the best apples. Because, of course, Jiyeon has turned this into a competition and is convinced she can make the best apple pie. Chan knew by the sparkle in your eye that you weren’t going to just settle for that one.

“You’re on,” you say and shake on it.

“Well, this is interesting,” Jay notes.

“Come on, Jay, you’re on my team,” Jiyeon says and grabs his arm.

“Uh, hello, that’s my brother,” you argue.

“Yeah, and he’s tall, better for reaching the perfect apple,” Jiyeon says with a shrug. “Snooze, you lose.”

“If you’re that worried about the perfect apples up high, I’ve already won,” you reason before turning to Chan. “Come on, Chan, you’re with me.”

He doesn’t even hesitate for a minute, which would probably be a little embarrassing if he wasn’t actually looking forward to the afternoon. It seems you have a plan, and all he really has to do is follow along. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been alone with you, either. Any awkwardness left with the train ride.

There’s more to picking apples than just picking the first ones you see, as Chan quickly finds out. You consult the little flyer about which ones are in season and start talking about which types of apples make the best pies. Which are the best for tarts. Which are the best for a bunch of desserts that he’s never heard of. It goes way over his head when you’re talking about the different flavors of apples and which goes best with cinnamon and nutmeg and all the flavors that remind you of the Fall. He’s always known that you loved to bake, but there's something different about seeing it in action like this. And you’re not even actually cooking.

Despite your insistence about the height of apples, you do come across some trees where the lower ones all look bad, even by Chan’s standards. When there’s a ladder around, he offers to climb up it so that you can have the perfect apple. It seems to make you smile every time. The system works pretty well until you come to a tree with the perfect apples and no ladder in sight. In hindsight, it’ll definitely seem stupid. That he helps you fixate on something so small as the perfect apple. Yet, at the moment, it makes perfect sense.

“Here, climb on my shoulders,” Chan offers and bends down.

“No, it’s really okay,” you say, waving him off.

“If you want the apples, then let’s get you the apples,” Chan insists.

“I’m too heavy,” you protest.

“You’re not,” Chan promises.

“You’re not going to drop me, are you?” you worry.

“Never,” Chan assures you.

He stays crouched down to allow you to climb onto his shoulders. Once you hook your legs around his back and he grabs your knees, he stands up, very thankful that he’s never skipped leg day. What he’s not counting on, or prepared for, is your surprise. Because in that surprise, your thighs squeeze either side of his face. He’s sure it’s an involuntary action. He’s sure you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Yet it makes him swallow hard all the same. As soon as he steadies himself (mentally, that is, because physically he’s fine), he steps towards the tree. On his shoulders, you’re easily tall enough to reach the apples you wanted in the first place.

“Thank you,” you say softly when he lets you back down.

“No problem,” Chan says, ignoring the slight dryness in his throat.

Apparently, taking the perfect pictures in the orchard is just as important as picking the apples. Chan does roll his eyes about that a little bit but agrees to be your photographer anyway. It’s the same thing all over again. Your face lights up at having someone to do all these things with and he’s putty in your hands. It’s impossible to say no. There’s a moment where he can tell that you’re a little upset that your boyfriend isn’t there to take pictures with you. Obviously, part of the whole thing should involve him in your perfect world. Yet he’s not the one that’s here. Instead, Chan offers to take a picture of the two of you and then take some with your other friends when you meet back up.

The group also has to decide just how to judge this baking contest. The only rules that you and Jiyeon agree to is that it has to be something baked and it has to use the apples. Beyond that, it’s up to whoever wants to participate just what they make. It’s not usually Seokmin’s thing, but he offers to help Mina bake and, since neither of them are that good, you and Jiyeon allow it.

“Why don’t we get together next weekend and do something else?” Vernon suggests.

“Like what?” Jay asks.

“Pumpkin carving!” you shout out.

“You know what? That actually sounds fun, and we haven’t done it in years,” Jay says.

“Yeah, we always used to have the best pumpkins as kids,” you agree.

“They were pretty cool,” Chan agrees.

“So pumpkins and whatever baked apple thing to see who wins?” Vernon asks.

Everyone agrees, and Chan can’t help but look to you. Anything you might have been feeling over your boyfriend missing yet another Fall activity that matters to you is forgotten. Or you’re doing a very good job at hiding it. All your face shows is happiness. It’s kind of infectious.

It doesn’t get much more stereotypically Fall than going to the pumpkin patch and taking pictures. Really, it’s pretty cliche. Yet, you seem unfazed by the entire prospect. You’re layered up, just like everyone else, to fight off the crispness of the air. Unlike everyone else, your face lights up when you pull up to the orchard, a different one than where you picked the apples. There are rows upon rows of pumpkins, all waiting to go to the perfect homes. You’re out of the car and off to walk through the rows before anyone else, and you don’t seem to have a care in the world.

There’s an art, Chan learns, to picking the best pumpkin. It all depends on what exactly someone wants to carve. Too small, and it feels crowded, too big and the face gets swallowed. Unless you make everything bigger, which is always an option. That gets a chuckle out of Vernon and a smack to his arm from Lisa. Lisa, always entirely honest, is really just in it for the pictures and then for whatever baked goods they get to taste test later. She’s happy to carve a pumpkin too, but she wants to use a stencil. And fully admits that she’ll probably get bored halfway through.

Almost unconsciously, or maybe by habit at this point, Chan finds himself wandering through the rows with you. Every now and then, you pause to consider a pumpkin before moving on. There’s so much concentration on the task, and he can’t help but to wonder if you’re just excited or if you’re also avoiding thinking about other things.

“What are you looking for?” Chan finally asks.

You turn and regard him for a second, evidently deciding that he’s just curious rather than judgmental. “Okay, don’t think it’s lame…”

“Why would I?” he asks honestly.

“I sort of have a couple ideas for what I want to carve,” you admit. “Do you, is it okay if I show you?”

“Yeah, of course,” comes Chan’s immediate reply.

There’s that smile again, the one that lights up your whole face like this is the best day that you can imagine. You pull your phone out of your pocket and open your photos. It’s hard to miss that all the recent images are from the things you’ve done as a group or screenshots or things saved from random searches. There aren’t any recent ones, as you quickly scroll, with you and Seungsik. His attention is pulled back to the task at hand when you show him a couple of different carving ideas you have.

“Which one do you like best?” you ask after showing him several.

“It’s hard to pick. Honestly, I think you should get a couple of pumpkins,” Chan answers.

That actually seems to make you happier as you pluck one from nearby that’s apparently perfect for at least one of your ideas. Chan offers to hold it for you as the two of you carry on in finding just the right pumpkins. It’s interesting, especially having picked apples with you, that you spend so much more care in this. You explain that some of the pumpkins don’t have the best sides so they don’t look as good when you carve them. They’re good for displaying as is or good to back with, but you want the prettiest pumpkins if you’re carving something.

Well, he can’t really argue with that.

Once you’re all back at his and Jay’s apartment, everyone splits off in different directions. You and Jiyeon immediately go to bring out your apple desserts. Chan’s a little surprised, still, that Seokmin and Mina actually made something together. But it all looks good, and he’s kind of hungry. Lisa, who suggested ordering actual food, manages to get the bags inside with Vernon’s help. The two of them get to work setting all the food out on the counter for people to start getting plates. Chan starts pulling out plates and glasses for everyone. Jay clears off their little dining table, which isn’t big enough for everyone, as well as the coffee table. It’s not like this is anything formal anyway.

Even though you and Jiyeon want to start with the desserts, Mina manages to convince you to have actual food first. Then, as everyone is carving, they can start trying whatever looks best to them. You reluctantly agree from your spot on the floor. There’s plenty of space to sit on the couch, but instead, you sit on the floor, right next to Chan’s legs, occasionally brushing against him as you move. It’s a little harder for him to watch you without being so obvious and just as hard to ignore your presence. There’s a vibrance to you again, like everything in your world is right. Like nothing could possibly be missing. It doesn’t escape his notice that you don’t mention Seungsik; don’t seem to be missing him during this activity. It’s not like apple picking where he bailed. He was never part of these plans. Maybe that’s the key, or maybe you’re realizing that doing all of this with friends can be just as fun. Whatever the reason, Chan wants you to keep smiling like this.

After protesting, sitting on the floor to eat, Chan has to agree that sitting on the floor to carve pumpkins makes the most sense. It’s easier when you’re not bending over to the coffee table level. It also gives him more space. Like Lisa, he’s using a stencil that he printed out. He wants it to be perfect, and he’s not sure he could do it freehand.

“Okay, I want dessert. Who’s going to tell me what’s what?” Vernon announces.

You’re up before anyone can say anything to grab your desserts. Plural. “Okay, so I made two…”

“Which is cheating,” Jiyeon interjects.

“Is not,” you reply and stick your tongue out at her. You open each container. “These are just apple fritters and these are salted caramel apple bars.”

“Tell me you did not make caramel from scratch, too,” Jiyeon whines.

“It’s so easy, of course I did,” you retort.

“Ugh, of course,” Jiyeon groans. “Anyway, I made apple-pomegranate cobbler.”

“Which looks amazing,” you compliment, causing Jiyeon to beam.

“And since we knew these two would go totally over the top, we just made plain old apple pie,” Mina says.

“Hey, we worked hard, don’t undersell it,” Seokmin points out.

“I’m sure it’s great, Seok,” Lisa says to pacify him.

“I’m going to eat it all,” Vernon announces.

He goes to get a plate and, true to his word, puts some of everything on it. You carry on carving and wave off Chan’s offer to get you something. It’s hard not to play favorites, but he also doesn’t want some of everything. At least not yet. So he grabs one of the salted caramel apple bars that you made and some of Jiyeon’s dessert. Things get quiet again as everyone is either enjoying the dessert or focusing on their pumpkins.

Despite Vernon taking a break to eat as much dessert as he could stomach, he does get back to working on his pumpkin and it’s annoying how good it looks. He went in without a plan and his pumpkin is one of the best. Chan thinks his could probably be a lot better, but he’s also happy with it. As predicted, Lisa abandoned hers halfway through and has been picking music to play ever since. It’s kind of nice, though, to have her doing that. It makes the whole afternoon into the evening pass by in the best way.

Chan should probably think of new words, but this is another one of those days that just feels like the best of the season. Everyone is together and happy. Nobody is fighting, unless it’s you and Jiyeon playfully arguing when your apple bars win as the best dessert. It’s fine to be in your feelings, and Chan meant it when he said he would be happy with whatever side you wanted to show him. It’s also important to have the lighter days. The easy days. The ones that make weathering the storm a little more manageable. It’s clear there’s definitely still a storm, and he’s thankful for the little breaks like this.

However, as it turns to night, everyone starts to filter out of the apartment. Seokmin, Mina, and Lisa want to go out to the bar and ask if anyone else wants to come. Jiyeon and Vernon already planned to go out to dinner. They’re still in that phase where they want to act like they’re not dating, even though they definitely are, and everyone is happy for them. Jay’s been talking to someone off some dating app that he wants to go hang out with. That just leaves you and Chan.

“I’m actually kinda tired, so I think I might just stay in,” Chan tells Seokmin when he asks again if either of you wants to come to the bar with them.

“I don’t really feel like going out,” you admit before looking at Chan. “Do you mind if I stay here with you?”

“Course not,” Chan answers, ignoring the look he knows Jay is giving the two of you. Your brother’s never really been good at being subtle.

“Lame, but I get it,” Lisa says with a shrug. Everyone but Jay filters out for their plans and he disappears into his bedroom to get ready. Chan gets up to start cleaning up and putting everything away.

“You don’t need to help. You’re a guest,” Chan tells you when you join in on the cleaning.

“Wow, a guest? And here I thought we were friends,” you scoff.

Chan shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”

“I figure if I help then I can rope you into watching a movie with me,” you answer.

“Fine,” Chan says, pretending to be put out.

Truthfully, he’s going to agree to whatever you want to do. You could say that you wanted to learn a new language and Chan would probably at least give it a try. Down horrifically bad. Yet, he’s too caught up in thinking about hanging out with you again that he doesn’t see the way you look over at him every few minutes. Misses the way your gaze softens at how much care he uses in moving the pumpkins. Misses the way your eyes rake over him as if you’re seeing him for the first time. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t realize things are starting to shift for you as well.

Instead, the two of you finish cleaning up mostly in silence and are settling onto the couch by the time Jay reemerges. Convenient timing given that he doesn’t have to even make up an excuse about why he can’t help. You’re quick to call him on it and he’s just as quick to brush it off as he runs out the door. It leaves you and Chan on your own for the night. So you pick the place for take away and Chan picks the first movie. Just like that, you settle in for the night.

part 2 coming on dec. 3rd, part 3 coming on dec. 6th. let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged 💕

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idobebeinggay · 4 months

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Ok so my takes on Bridgerton series 3 and my dream scenario for all(some of) the characters.

1) pen tells Colin he’s confused and runs away for an episode we get more fencing scenes with benny baby boy talking through feels but not spilling her secret. He talks to Eloise, pen and Colin make up (he’s too puppy and in love to not) they get married happy happy life.

2) Eloise and pen make up in the last ep of the series, apologies etc

3) I mean my dream scenario for Benedict would be I fall into the TV and marry him but barring that, him and hot badass blonde lady who’s name I have forgotten have a fun time but he eventually realises through maybe a kanthony pregnancy and both Francesca and Colin’s weddings, that he does want to get married and have kids, so they talk about it, she doesn’t want to marry again or have kids and they split up amicably she’s a badass so she’s a bit sad as he is but eventually fine maybe she goes travelling and has fun. Benedict is all set up and ready for his season next year.

4) already kinda mentioned but kanthony pregnancy & baby. (I don’t know why my brain went wouldn’t it be super cute if they had twins). Antony catches up on the working stuff and manages to relax and be a present and brilliant dad even more than he was for his youngest siblings.

5) Francesca marries John it’s cute they’re cute they spend more time together, we learn his interest (other than being adorable and re arranging music for her) some of their time is spent actually getting to know each other, most just chilling, more of those silent calling hours, promenading together quietly, etc generally cute happy them vibes

6)Violet gets to have fun. Maybe her and Lady Danbury’s brother actually court with the intention of marriage maybe they just sleep together for fun. She deserves what ever she wants. (Also If she gets to sleep with him in Lady Danbury’s house that would be hilarious) (also payback “remember when you banged my dad?”) I Just want a happy time for Violet basically. Also sweet Violet and Francesca scenes, also sweet Violet and Benedict scenes generally sweet scenes of Violet being a lovely person to her children. And her and LD (cba typingher name again) being funny bff’s

7) Eloise… now this is interesting. We know Cressida is a raging lesbian. I think Cressida marries Debling, they like each other they get on etc, wedding night happens bcos they think they need to but then th rest of the honeymoon they travel she learns about things read relax she gets to experience freedom for a bit. Then they return to his house and she gets to have a great time living her dream life. And her and Eloise start writing to each other. They were friends with vibes this series we end the series at the start of their letters withe possibilities for the future. (In case u didn’t realise. I ship it)

#anthony bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #polin bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 #colin bridgerton #bridgerton #violet bridgerton #lady danbury #cressida cowper #creloise #polin #penelope featherington #lady tilley arnold #kate sharma #kanthony #my thoughts

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nebulablakemurphy · 5 months

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Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part 12 : The Untethering)

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Warning: Suggestive scenes, proceed with caution.

Series Masterlist

The first week in Alaska is spent wrapped up in each other.

“I love you so much, Jacob.” She tells him, like a broken record. “I love you.”

He doesn’t remember much of anything else for those first few days. Just her. Her arms around him, her fingers in his hair. His never ending plea, “bite me.”

“We shouldn’t.” Y/N reminds him, that’s what got them here.

“Please.” Jacob never stills, restless and ready to come out of his skin. Let me be useful to you.

“Jacob, you are everything to me.” Y/N cups his face, “you’re irreplaceable. You don’t need to give me anything else.”

He pins those same gentle hands above her head, kissing Y/N rough and punishing. Stroking his thumb over the charm bracelet at her wrist. “It’s not enough.” He wants to give until there is nothing left of him.

“Jacob,” she tugs against his hold.

“Shh,” he hushes her, pupils blown, out of his mind. “Don’t do that, honey. Gonna make me phase and we’ll spend the day putting you back together.” Relax.

Y/N’s eyes roll back in her head.

He traces her lips, opening her mouth slightly, skating the pad of his index finger across her teeth. “So pretty.” He doesn’t mind her icy skin, her rigid limbs or her perfect teeth, made to sink into his neck. I love you.

Her heart aches, feeling the weight of his emotions and her own. I’m dying.

“I’m gonna make it better.” Jacob promises, “make it all go away.”

Y/N nods.

“But you have to listen to me.” Jacob insists.

Her chest heaves, sucking in an unnecessary breath to elevate her discomfort. “I can’t.” I can’t risk it, I can’t hurt you.

This is not your fault. “This would’ve happened anyway.”

The world narrows before exploding into a kaleidoscope of color.

Y/N sees Jacob, every version of him to exist dances before her eyes. Past and present all tangled into one.

A piece of paper, something they signed in blood, with shaking hands and tears in their eyes, while inhabiting other bodies. A promise, an agreement, tying their souls together. Y/N comes back to herself, to the vessel over which she reigns.

Jacob is panting, his head resting against her chest.

“Jake?" Y/N whispers, he'll always be Jacob to her. No matter the long list of names she's called him before.

"Are you ok?" He asks.

"I think so." She nods, "are you?"

————————————————————————-

The second week is better, Jacob doesn’t fight sleep and Y/N returns all her missed calls from back home.

Where are you?

When will you be back?

Are you ok?

Is Jacob is ok?

He is now and that’s all that matters.

Their escape from reality comes to an end a few days later.

“I can’t hold you hostage here forever, honey.” Jacob sighs. “Charlie is worried, I know Ness and Bella miss you.”

“I’m sure they’re doing just fine without me.”

Jacob knocks her shoulder. “I need to get back to the pack.”

“Are you sure you’re ok to go home?” Y/N whispers.

“I feel better now.” Jacob assures her, “I’m me again. You don’t need to worry.”

“I worry about you, Jacob. The other…stuff doesn’t bother me.” She’ll hardly complain if he drags her back here again to blow off steam.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, “let’s go home.”

————————————————————————

Y/N goes back to Charlie’s, spending the afternoon with her father. Attempting to explain what happened although she isn’t sure herself.

“I love ya,” is all Charlie says. “No matter what. I’m glad you’re back.” He pulls her in for a hug.

“I love you too, dad.” Y/N is careful not to squeeze him too hard. Her cell phone buzzes to life, causing them to break apart. “I need to-”

“Go,” Charlie shoos her away, turning his attention back to the game.

Y/N hurries up to her room, closing the door behind her. “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Sam.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Jacob is-” Sam’s voice is cut off by a tortured howl.

“Is that him?” Y/N chokes out.

“We delivered some news, he’s not taking it well.” Sam says, between gritted teeth. More whining and howling. “I think it’s best if you come.”

“Is he hurt?” Y/N is out the door, sprinting towards the reservation.

“Not physically, no. We’ll be waiting at Billy’s.” Sam ends the call.

Y/N arrives within minutes, greeted by the fur of the reddish brown wolf. He looks fine. “Jacob, what’s wrong?”

He lowers his head onto his paws at her feet.

Y/N kneels down in the dirt. “It’s ok.” She strokes a hand along his back. The muscles of which twitch with his uneven breath. “It’s ok.” She wishes she could hear him again, it’d come in handy at times like this.

He noses at her, whining low in his throat.

Y/N tries not to think about this much, what she is, what he is…what they are. As long as Y/N and Jacob exist somewhere inside the blood drinking demon and the giant wolf, she doesn’t have to think about it. But the painful truth is hard to ignore when she’s trying to envelop his towering stature with her icy arms and she can’t even hug him properly.

Jacob returns to his human form, curling around Y/N without a word.

“What happened?” She demands.

“Give me a minute, ok?” Jacob murmurs, brushing his lips against hers. “This isn’t really a conversation I want to have with you naked.”

Y/N nods, desperate to lighten the mood. “You’re right, I could get distracted.”

Jake chuckles, despite himself, “that’s not what I’m worried about.”

Sam tosses a pair of briefs and shorts down from Billy’s porch.

“Thank you,” Y/N waves. Now left to wonder how long he’s been standing there.

Sam gives a curt nod, retreating into the house.

Y/N rises to her feet, brushing dried grass from her jeans. Waiting for Jacob to finish getting dressed.

“We should go in.” Jake reaches for her hand. Crossing the threshold of his childhood home to find Sam and Billy seated at the table.

“Wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?” Y/N arches a brow.

“Sam saw what happened in Denali.” Jacob explains, resting a hand on her back.

Y/N averts her eyes. Oh.

“Apparently, the agreement we signed before we were us, is still valid.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N can’t remember what it said. This whole reincarnation thing is becoming a pain in the ass.

"It's a very old practice.” Sam explains, “I had to do some heavy lifting on our end to get any information and Billy was looking into it for years before that.”

“You knew about this?” Jacob turns to his father in disbelief.

"I had a hunch."

“And you didn’t say anything?”

Billy square his shoulders, "this is heavy, Jacob. I hoped you wouldn't have to carry it."

"So what does it mean?" Y/N asks.

“There was a treaty forged by the elders of our tribe, after making some powerful enemies. The war was long, fought until neither side had anything left to bargain with. The chief's son and the opposing tribe leader's daughter entered into an agreement, binding their blood and their souls. This covenant brought years of peace and prosperity. They built a better life on the ashes of what had been.” Billy presses on.

“These souls are called upon in times of peril, to ensure the survival of our tribe.” Sam begins pacing behind Billy’s chair.

"So all of this happened because of something we were forced into centuries ago.” Jacob spits.

“I’m sorry this happened, truly, I am. But telling you sooner wouldn’t have changed anything.” Billy says, “I wanted you to have a normal life together, to be kids. Who didn’t have to worry about the pack, the tribe, the contract-”

“You could’ve given me a heads up. Maybe I could’ve saved her!” Jacob seethes, “I would’ve had the pack run patrols, I would’ve made sure she was safe and I sure as hell wouldn’t have taken her to the movies that night.”

“Listen to yourself!” Billy slams his fist against the table. “Do you think that would’ve made her happy?”

“I don’t know about happy, but atleast she’d be alive!”

“Y/N is still here, Jacob. She’s not dead and neither are you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Y/N crosses both arms over her chest.

“I’m allowed to be upset when she gets hurt.”Jacob growls. “She was writhing in agony for three days and there was nothing I could do. Now her throat is on fire anytime she’s in the same room as a human. You don’t get to tell me how to feel about watching the person I love suffer! You act like I’m supposed to be grateful for it. She’s my-” lover, enemy, soulmate. “She’s my best friend.”

Billy lowers his gaze at the sound of his son’s voice breaking.

“Jacob, I’m ok.” Y/N reaches for him.

Jacob wraps his arms around her.

“I promise.”

His hand fists in her hair, clinging to her. She is fine, he can feel it, the only lingering upset is because of his pain.

Y/N rubs circles into his back.

“You weren’t mine to bargain with, I would never have agreed to this. This was signed in blood before you were born.” Billy says, “I swear to you, there was nothing you or anyone else could have done to prevent this. I couldn’t undo it, I couldn’t protect you from it…I tried.”

The room is silent.

“The imprint is what’s been throwing us off.”

“Why?” Y/N tries to peek over Jacob’s shoulder.

“If two souls are already bound, imprinting would be unnecessary.” Sam tells them. “I’ve come to the conclusion that it might be your spin on things.”

“So we do get some control over our own lives.”

“Think of it as traveling to a marked destination on the map, there’s more than one way to reach it. But you’re always going to get where you’re going.”

“And where are we going?” Jacob turns with Y/N still in his arms.

She sighs, resigned to her fate facing away from the other occupants of the room.

“The tribes agreed to bind their blood, there’s only one way to do that.” A child.

That’s why…that’s why Jacob wanted to…that’s why he- “screw the treaty.”

“Jacob,” Billy shakes his head.

“We’re not having a kid to fulfill a contract, I won’t do it.” Jacob wants to have a baby with Y/N, if and when she wants to. Not because of or for anyone else. For her, to have a family with her.

“Jacob, look at her.” Sam throws up a hand.

Jacob pulls back enough to really see Y/N. Her eyes are different, now a dark purple color, from the weeks she spent drinking only from him. “She’s fine.”

“Listen.” Sam clenches his jaw.

Jacob closes his eyes, listening carefully to the sound of her heartbeat.

Her heart doesn’t beat.

Part 13

Series Taglist: @vxidnik @remembered-license @itscheybaby @cole22ann @the-tryhard-twihard @zheezs14 @adaydreamaway08 @xcastawayherosx @moneteguiza @stinkii-boii @theatrechic26 @sylum @irrelevant-86

#total eclipse of the heart #jacob twilight #jacob black x reader #jacob black x y/n #jacob black x vampire reader #jacob black x you #jacob black imagine #jacob black fanfiction #jacob black #twilight x you #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight

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irondadfics · 30 days

Note

Hey,

i just started looking for a fic that I know I have bookmarked but can’t seem to remember the name of. The big moment in it, for me at least, is when Tony walks into Peter’s new room at the tower to find him hiding food (Peter had either been homeless or in bad foster homes up to this point.) They have a discussion about it and it ends with Tony saying something along the lines of do you need to move your stuff and after Peter says yes, he says ok, apologizes for barging in and giving Pete a moment to himself.

is this the one? I believe the scene is in Chapter 27

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle

Homecoming AU. Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway. So he leaves. Simple. Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on. And that’s when things get complicated.

#foundfic #food insecurity #au #homecoming AU #foster care #Homeless peter parker #homlessness

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yandere-sins · 1 year

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Elusive Choices

a/n: The new information about Kaveh gave me some ideas, so I wrote them out. This is as wholesome as it gets when you’re shared between these two, I guess :P

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Alhaitham x GN!Reader x Yandere!Kaveh Warnings: Yandere, Reader is nakey just because, Darling Mistreatment (Not taking care of them, starving them, being selfish), Jealousy, Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Forced Relationship, Hints of Stockholm Syndrom

"Where's Kaveh?"

You didn't like the somewhat indifferent tone of voice or the strange man speaking to you.

Shrugging your shoulders, you pulled the blanket back over them, tightening the fabric around your naked body, but refused to come out of your corner and face the uncaring roommate of your captor. The very same man who didn't care what happened to you even though you crawled to him pleading for help when he first showed up. He had merely pulled his leg away from your desperate grasp and left after telling Kaveh to not make more of a mess than he was already making in his house, and that was that.

"Well?"

Your shrug was not a sufficient answer to the man you knew as 'Alhaitham'. You only knew his name because Kaveh, your captor, the bane of your existence, regularly screamed it through the halls before going on a tirade about this and that. And once he was done, he'd come back cooing and reaching for you, either telling you about something great that happened that day—like a new project, or how Kaveh helped yet another scammer by buying stuff he didn't need—or letting the rest of his frustration out on you after you refused to greet him like a touch-starved puppy waiting for its owner to return.

"I don't know," you muttered into the blanket, shivering a little. Your breath felt cold as it bounced off from the piece of cloth wrapped around you. Whenever you were left alone, you were locked into Kaveh's room without a fire to keep you warm or food and water so your body could do its job properly. Considering this, perhaps you were even less respected than a pet. But Kaveh simply didn't care to remember to make sure you had everything you needed despite locking you up like a prisoner. Now that he had you, his object of obsession, he was as careless and oblivious as only someone as eccentric as both of them could be.

"He doesn't tell you where he goes or when he'll be back?"

Shaking your head, you finally glanced up at Alhaitham, surprised to find a scowl on his face, his arms crossed as his eyes narrowed in anger. "What are you even doing here all day?"

Another shrug, and this time when you tightened the blanket around you, Alhaitham huffed, shaking his head and turning on his heel. You watched as he left the room, but to your surprise, the wood didn't lock behind him, staying wide open. Blinking, you stared at the unlocked door, a rare sight. A hint of freedom.

Your back straightened, and you scrambled to free your arm from the blanket, pulling yourself up at the footrest of the bed. On cold feet, you tiptoed over the just as icy ground towards the opening, spying outside into the hallways and living room area. This house was not a home to you, but it certainly felt lived in with all the papers and books around, the occasional cup left behind empty after another study session.

As you snuck through the hallway, you heard the clanking of pots and utensils from the kitchen, but your eyes locked onto something much more interesting than even the tightening of your stomach, hunger making it rumble.

The front door.

It was somewhat crazy to think you'd be stepping outside the house completely naked, only covered in a blanket. But the moment you'd be out in the late afternoon sun, you knew your frozen joints would melt, and you'd be flying down the streets of Sumeru City without looking back.

Clutching the blanket with one hand, you reached out the other, your fingers grazing over the doorknob with an unreal excitement about what awaited you outside. Freedom. No more torture to endure. No more waiting out the days for someone to come home. You'd be free and warm and free. And you'd live your life better, knowing now how much worse it could be. You'd make choices you've been too afraid of making because, after experiencing hell, nothing so small could scare you anymore. But before all of this, you'd simply stand in the sun, letting its rays caress your skin with their warmth and allow yourself to realize the horror was over.

"Don't even try it," Alhaitham's voice shattered your hopes. You hadn't even noticed him stepping out of the kitchen, and you considered dismissing his words. He was still a few steps away, his hands occupied by bowls filled with something steaming from the inside, spoons sticking out of them.

"It's locked."

But just like that, he ruined it. With his matter-of-factly voice, there was no room for doubting him. If he said it was locked, you knew it was. He locked it. Alhaitham wasn't the type to make reckless mistakes, and while he didn't seem to benefit from your presence, he wasn't about to help you either... for some reason.

"Come," he merely dismissed what had just happened, stepping by you and walking over to the living room couches, finding himself a free spot amongst stacks of books and documents. Frozen in place, you stood still and hopeless, your hand slowly falling to your side before you began to twist your body around painfully slow, your eyes still fixed on the doorknob. Prying them off it, you followed Alhaitham and the hearty smell of home-cooked soup with your gaze, nose in the air, and stomach rumbling. Watching as he dipped his spoon inside the bowl, blowing on it before having a taste.

He only glanced in your direction as you stepped up to him before nodding his chin toward the second bowl on the table in front of him. There was barely any place to sit, Alhaitham occupying the only free space available, so you sank down at his feet in front of the bowl. You had been put in much more shameful positions than eating at someone's feet since you came here, and after your failed escape, you were sure it wouldn't be the last time.

Scooping up the bowl, it was warm to the touch, unfreezing your cold hands while you slowly slipped the spoon between your icy lips, tears warming your cheeks as the flavors danced over your tongue. Sometimes Kaveh ate while he was outside, so there would be days when you got nothing besides water after his return. And if you asked for something, he barely put in the effort unless Alhaitham made a snide, underhanded remark about how shitty his cooking was. For someone who said he cared, his priorities were really messed up. And though he said he loved you, Kaveh didn't make you feel like your well-being was a priority for him at all.

A tissue poked your cheek as you sniffled into your almost empty bowl. You took it from Alhaitham's patiently waiting hand, surprised to have him scoop the empty ceramic out of your palm so you could wipe your face before he handed you his portion too. "You're stomach's still grumbling," he noted factually as you hesitated to take even more of his generosity than you already had.

However, with a sense of shameful awareness overcoming you that you were yearning for more of what he was offering, you accepted the food, eating his left-over soup as well.

"You know," he mumbled, watching you with a keen interest in his eyes which were fixated on every one of your movements. "I can treat you so much better than he does."

Your movements halted as you registered his words, the soup turning sour on your tongue. You had to force it down with a heavy gulp as tension raked its claws through you. Alhaitham never had many emotions when he spoke, but his words still rushed goosebumps over your skin. His words were true, like facts. Alhaitham checked in on you every day, even if it was just to see if you were still there.

You knew because Kaveh complained about Alhaitham entering his room when he wasn't home. And you knew because you caught him more than once checking if you were okay and tugging you back in while you pretended to be asleep. You often heard his steps halt in front of Kaveh's door before they went away again after a brief and quiet pause. But hearing him point this out rang alarm bells in your head as you sat by his feet. They urged you to be cautious, wary. To stay away. So far, he never went out of his way to provide for you like he did that day, coaxing you into sitting close by him, at his feet. Vulnerable.

He could take better care of you than Kaveh. He proved that much.

Kaveh was selfish, but was Alhaitham any better?

Lowering your bowl to the table, your appetite ceased to exist despite your body wishing you'd have a little more delicious soup. But you couldn't even swallow when Alhaitham dug his finger underneath your chin, hooking it in your jaw just enough to force you to follow his directions until your gaze met his eyes. Eyes that scared you almost more than the situation you were in.

"You want to be free, don't you? You can stay with me and have all the freedom to do what you want. Where I go, you go. I can buy you everything you want, make sure you eat, and give you a warm place to sleep. All I ask in return is that you study what I give you and help me with my projects. That's a fair deal, isn't it? The choice is yours."

An inkling of doubt screamed in the back of your head that this was wrong. That this still wasn't the freedom you desired. That he still, selfishly—just like Kaveh—was trying to bind you to him for some reason. You couldn't read it from his face if it was the same obsessive desire as his roommate, but something dark was brewing in his mind. Kaveh let his emotions show when he spoke, but Alhaitham remained unreadable. And yet you knew that his intentions were far from pure as well.

But it's been a long time since you had a choice.

Anything was better than Kaveh. And yet, you couldn't help but shiver uncontrollably as you gulped again, slowly nodding into his finger, still digging into your jaw.

"Ok," you whispered shakily, and Alhaitham nodded once, firmly.

Sliding his hands underneath your arms, you remembered you were naked beneath the blanket as it slid open while Alhaitham pulled you on his lap. Immediately, shame flooded your body, but if he minded, he didn't say anything. He forced your head against his chest, gently but assertively stroking down the back of your head before letting out a shuddering breath.

"Finally," he muttered, and you had no idea what he meant by that when suddenly, the sound of keys rattling against the front door made you tense up.

"Make sure you tell him what you want clearly," Alhaitham advised you, strictly, like a teacher. But his hand gently rubbing your back didn't cease to be tender, encouraging. And when you glanced up, for the first time, you saw a smile jerking the corners of his lips upwards, excited and satisfied with your choice.

"I'm home!" Kaveh yelled happily through the house, and Alhaitham's grin widened.

You remembered the bad feeling you had before accepting his conditions, and realization dawned on you—there never was a right choice.

Because the moment Kaveh scanned the wide open space of the living areaAlhaitham's room, his expression falling as if he saw a ghost, you knew you had only trapped yourself more. Trapped between eccentrics. Between challenges and love. Trapped between an obsessive lover and a possessive one. And you were the only one unaware that their fixation had always been on you.

They just went about entirely different ways to finally make you theirs.

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steddiealltheway · 2 years

Text

Remember the server/waiter AU... Well, I wrote the first chapter... Here you go loves :) (Warning: It's almost 3k words)

Steve can’t catch a break.

And by that, he means that not a single one of his dates are going well.

He doesn’t know what it is about the girls in Hawkins, but the Harrigton charm isn’t working the way it used to. Sure, he works at Family Video and his only friends are mainly children and Robin, but that doesn’t equate to the fact that he can’t go steady with a single girl. Hell, he can’t even make it past the first date.

At this point, his wallet is starting to get smaller and smaller, and the staff at Enzo’s have all memorized his name and order.

He relays all of this to Robin who laughs at his misery and says, “At this point, you need to start going to some cheap diner for your dates because I know Family Video isn’t paying you more than they’re paying me. And you certainly are getting a pay cut with all the movies your kids keep hogging until they’re overdue. You can’t always wave the fee, you know.” Robin huffs as they hit a slight bump and her mascara wand bumps her eyelid.

“Don’t worry. I never wave Mike’s fee, and he’s usually the one hogging them. But hey, you make a good point. Think I should go to Linda’s Diner next time?” Steve asks turning into the parking lot.

Robin twists the cap back on the mascara and comments, “It’ll certainly weed out the gold diggers, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

Robin climbs out of the car and makes eye contact with Steve over the roof. “It definitely is. Now come on before Keith loses his shit at us being three minutes early instead of five.”

“You act like I wasn’t going to same speed as you,” Steve argues.

They continue bickering throughout the first part of their shift, stopping only when things get busy. In that time, Steve manages to flirt his way into a date that night with a girl named Melinda, although Robin sends him warning looks the whole interaction.

Once the store is dead again, Steve saunters over to Robin. “Did you see the hot chick I’m going on a date with tonight?”

“Did you not see the crazy eyes I was giving you?” Robin shoots back.

“Come on. She even agreed to meet me at Linda’s Diner. What’s wrong with this one?’ Steve leans back against the counter with his arms crossed.

“She has red hair, Steve! You know who else has red hair?”

“Vickie,” they both say at the same time.

“Need I remind you of what she did?” Robin says, frantically sorting through the stack of returns, handing Steve tapes to rewind.

“Trust me, I remember,” Steve cringes and begins rewinding tapes. “But you can’t just blame the entire ginger population on behalf of her... decisions.”

“It’s a very small population, Steve. I just might,” Robin says, waving a tape aggressively in the air to punctuate her point.

“Careful there. You’re turning that tape into a weapon.”

Robin sighs and puts the tape down, glancing at the clock. She nudges Steve and tilts her head towards the clock. “Think we can close five minutes early?” Robin asks.

Steve glances around at the empty store and empty parking lot and nods. “Yeah.”

The pair rush around to grab their stuff from the staff room and quickly turn off the lights and lock up. When Steve gets in the car, he says, “You know what’s great about diners?”

Robin hums in response as she tugs off her vest.

“I can wear my work clothes on a date there.” Steve beams and drums his hands on the steering wheel to the song playing over his stereo. He feels Robin jab something against his arm. He glances down when he gets to a stop sign and sees the deodorant Robin’s pressing against him. Steve throws her an apologetic look and immediately puts it on.

When Steve pulls up outside of Robin’s house, she says, “Can’t wait to hear about how awful this date goes. Bye dingus!”

“Just because she has red hair doesn’t mean-” Steve gets cut off when Robin slams the car door shut. “...that it will go poorly,” Steve finishes his thought, mumbling to himself.

The rest of the drive is uncomfortably quiet even with the music, reminding Steve why he goes through the effort of all the failed dates.

Maybe this one will be different.

He arrives and finds parking on the street in front of the diner. He notes that he’s about fifteen minutes early which is perfect for fixing his hair then scoping out the best spot for a date.

With about ten minutes remaining, Steve makes his way inside. A bell jingles, signaling his entrance and barely any patrons glance up. Luckily, there are only a few people there, not too busy and not empty enough to signal that Steve might get food poisoning. He glances at the sign that signals for customers to seat themselves and makes his way to the front corner of the diner. Steve sits facing the entrance and begins glancing out the window.

In the reflection, he catches the door to the kitchen swing open. He glances over and makes eye contact with one of the waiters who stops in his tracks. The sound of silverware clattering to the ground rings out along with a whispered, “Shit,” as the waiter bends down and picks it up. He throws them into a bin and picks up two more sets and two menus and makes his way to Steve.

Steve feels his mouth go dry as the man comes fully in view. He’s wearing an awful server’s hat, a red button down with black jeans, and a ridiculous white apron around his waist that Steve can’t take his eyes off.

“Trust me when I say they don’t pay me enough to wear this,” the waiter deadpans as he sets down the utensils and menus.

“How’d you know that there would be two people?” Steve asks for some reason.

“I just kind of assumed it would be a date.”

“Why’s that?” Steve questions, genuinely curious.

“I’ve never seen someone work so hard on their hair before for nothing.”

Steve’s eyes widen. How’d he know?

“Your car window is pretty clean, man. It’s a clear shot through our windows to yours.” He nods his head towards where Steve’s car is parked.

Steve can feel himself turn bright red.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It looks... it looks good,” the other man finishes lamely. He clears his throat. “Anyways, I’m Eddie, I’ll be your waiter today at this fine dining establishment. What can I get you and your date to drink?”

“I have no idea about her, but I’ll get a water,” Steve answers. Eddie weirdly stares back at him for a few moments. “Is there something wrong with your water?” Steve questions.

Eddie shakes his head. “I just took you as a Coke person. But water impresses the girls I guess,” Eddie says with a shrugs and walks off.

Steve finds himself watching Eddie, specifically the long curly ponytail that he managed to miss before. It swings a bit as the guy walks away, matching the slight swivel his hips make. And why is he staring at this man’s ass? It’s just because of the bow above it from the apron that draws attention to that specific part of his body. That’s all.

The front door bell rings out, and Steve is snapped out of his thoughts. He glances over and sees Melinda scrunching her nose up at the diner. Eventually she makes eye contact with Steve, who waves her over to the table.

She struts over and hesitantly sits on the opposite side of the booth.

“Hi,” Steve says with a smile.

“Hi,” she responds, voice more nasally than Steve remembered.

“Two waters,” Eddie suddenly announces appearing at the table, setting the drinks down. “Did you want anything else to drink, ma’am?”

Melinda looks Eddie up and down in clear distaste, looks away and shakes her head.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth forms a tight line. He looks about two seconds away from saying, “They don’t pay me enough for this shit.” Steve thinks it’s probably something he says often.

“Okay!” Eddie says with false joy, “I’ll leave you two to our wonderful selection for a few more minutes unless you’re ready to order.”

“I’m not getting anything to eat,” Melinda says pushing the menu aggressively away.

Steve makes eye contact with Eddie for a split second trying his best to look apologetic.

“I’ll give you a moment to think,” Eddie says to Steve and leaves shaking his head.

“Do you want to split a milkshake or something?” Steve suggests.

“If it’s strawberry,” Melinda replies flatly.

Steve nods and smiles. Melinda glances out the window looking as if she would want to be anywhere else. “How was your day?” Steve asks, hoping that maybe she had a bad day resulting in the bad mood.

“Fine,” she replies.

Steve has no idea why he didn’t listen to Robin. He prays the milkshake will help. And fries. He gets hangry too sometimes.

Eddie blessedly makes his way back to the table, sticky note pad in hand. “Have you decided on anything?” He asks Steve.

“We’re going to get a strawberry milkshake and fries.”

Melinda shoots Steve s look that he catches in his peripheral vision. Maybe fries were a bad idea. Eddie scribbles on the sticky note in what looks like very large font and says, “Fantastic choice,” dripping in sarcasm. His eyes flicker over to Melinda who stares out the window, arms crossed.

Eddie flips the sticky note pad over which reads “RUN!” Steve puts a hand over his mouth, trying to cover his laughter. For the first time, Eddie gives Steve a real smile and hurries away saying, “Coming right up!”

Melinda sighs heavily immediately killing Steve’s good mood.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks.

“I just wish that you would’ve asked me first before you added fries to our order.”

Steve genuinely apologizes, “I’m sorry. Is there something wrong with fries?’

Melinda huffs and rolls her eyes. “No.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what I did.”

“You added them without consulting me first. It’s just something Bobby used to do.”

“Bobby?” Steve questions.

“My ex. He was so annoying. Always getting stuff without asking me my opinion. Like he bought this jean jacket and didn’t ask me before he started wearing it. And it was so embarrassing for me and a betrayal of my trust. Who does that?” Melinda says throwing her arms up.

“I mean-”

Melinda cuts Steve off. “And then he got mad at me, saying that I was too controlling. As if it wasn’t his fault. We were supposed to tell each other everything. Besides, it ruined our whole couple aesthetic.” She looks Steve up and down for a moment. “You can keep the hair; we’ll work on your style later.”

Steve’s jaw drops and eyebrows raise, unsure how to respond. Apparently, Eddie is equally a good judge of character as Robin. As soon as Steve finds himself thinking of Eddie, he appears suddenly again with the milkshake and basket of fries. “For the lovely couple,” Eddie says with a large grin, and Steve fights to not roll his eyes at him.

Steve thanks Eddie who hovers with a smile. Melinda lifts her hand and flicks her wrist at Eddie, as if ushering him away.

Eddie’s eyes fill with rage. Steve cuts off Eddie’s meltdown by doing exactly what he knows will enrage Melinda. He takes a fry and dips it in the milkshake.

Her face flushes red. Steve puts the final nail in the coffin and says, “I’m actually shaving my head tomorrow.”

Melinda scoots out of the booth saying, “This isn’t going to work out. Have a good life.” She struts out of the building. Eddie and Steve watch as she storms out, gets into her car and starts apparently screaming and punching her steering wheel.

“See, clear shot,” Eddie comments and walks towards the kitchen. Steve stares as Melinda drives away, nearly causing an accident in the process. Steve sighs and puts his head in his hands. He sits by himself for a few minutes, working his way through the basket of fries.

A plate slides in front of him. Steve takes in the stack of pancakes with a wonky smiley face made of chocolate chips on top. It’s even decorated with fantastic whipped cream hair. He even got Steve glass of Coke.

Eddie slides into the booth where Melinda was sitting. Steve can’t help but think that he’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Eddie looks bashfully at the display and says, “It’s on the house. Think of it as compensation for the free entertainment.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head, he reaches over to where Eddie’s hands rest on the table, fiddling with his rings. Steve puts a hand on top of Eddie’s and squeezes it. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. He takes some of his remaining fries and gives the face eyebrows and a mustache.

“A masterpiece that rivals the Mona Lisa,” Eddie says.

“Rivals?” Steve questions. “It’s edible so automatically it’s worth way more.” He picks up his fork and digs into the art.

Eddie gasps. “Our beautiful creation!”

Steve swallows the bite and says, “I just needed to taste test it.”

“Oh, of course. You’re absolutely right... So, how does it taste? Valuable?”

Steve takes his time cutting a new piece and chewing it thoughtfully. Eddie eagerly awaits his response. Steve hums. “I’m getting notes of...”

“Chocolate?” Eddie supplies.

“Yes.”

“Whipped cream?”

“Correct again.”

“And.... this is a stretch... pancake.”

Steve gasps dramatically. “How did you know?”

“It’s like I made it or something.”

“Ah,” Steve says and nods. The pair stare at each other for a few moments then Eddie starts giggling, and Steve snorts leading them into a full laughing fit.

A loud cough interrupts the two of them and Eddie sighs, “Guess I have to do my job. Capitalism, am I right?” He slides out of the booth, and Steve watches as he goes to the other table, bring them their ticket and taking their cash to the register.

He quickly finishes off the pancakes and Coke, glad to actually have some semblance of a real meal that wasn’t just fries. He fishes his wallet out of his pocket and leaves ten dollars on the table, not wanting to take the pancakes and Coke assumedly out of Eddie’s paycheck.

He walks up to the counter and leans on it saying, “Thank you for turning a bad date into a good one. Uh- I mean... not like that. You know what I mean.”

A teasing smile lights up Eddie’s face as he flirts, “Oh, I know what you mean.” He punctuates it with a wink which has Steve blushing. What the hell?

Steve nods and smiles at Eddie, heading towards the door. “See you around, Eddie.”

“See you around... uh, pretty boy.”

Steve’s head whips around.

“I don’t have a name, so I gave you the first one that came to mind,” Eddie slyly says.

“It’s Steve,” he replies, not knowing what else to say.

“Steve,” Eddie repeats, and Steve finds that he really likes hearing him say it. He waves at him and makes his way out of the diner and into his car. He starts laughing and remembers what Eddie had said before and glances through the glass of the diner. He finds Eddie laughing as well and doing a cute little jig around.

He suddenly freezes and looks up through the window, directly at Steve.

He was right. It’s a clear shot.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #once again writing instead of doing work #it's because i love you guys

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synthetickitsune · 2 years

Text

ateez + the little things

Hongjoong ❧ It’s late, yet you’re dragging on your nightly routine as much as possible. Wherever you go, you keep your phone within reach. The ringtone is on too, a change from the usual silent setting that you always forget to turn off. Hongjoong is a busy man. You doubt there exists a number to count all his apologies that you’ve accepted with a fond smile. You know that he cares, that he worries, and so you always keep your phone close. It’s always a surprise when it does ring, but it has taught you not to fear the sudden incoming calls too much - even if it’s all the more disappointing when the caller’s id doesn’t read his name. When it rings this late at night, you know what to expect; his tired voice drawling the words. He never talks about work, that’s for when you’re together, for when he can hold you as you ramble about this week’s infuriating incidents and for when you run your hands through his hair. No, his phone calls are always for one thing only - “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Seonghwa ❧ It’s a struggle to stay on top of everything - what with your job, your interests, the chores, maybe some social life and sleep squeezed in. Seonghwa is painfully aware of that and it’s honestly near the top of the list of reasons why you’re grateful to have him. What’s the number one reason, though, is his superpower. You’ve never met anyone like him and you’re sure he’s ruined at least half of the population for you. Because somehow, he helps you without making you feel like he’s nagging. And you know it’s his choice to treat you that way from the stories the other members tell you. He reminds you of stuff that needs to be done urgently and makes sure that you’re making progress on anything that takes a while to finish as the deadline is coming closer, and somehow he does so in a way that doesn’t make you want to give up on the task in question. Perhaps it’s the fact that he remembers all those things with his own busy schedule, or maybe it’s the proud look in his eyes and lingering kiss he gives you when you tell him you’re done. Who knows.

Yunho ❧ He knows when you need to get up, when you need to get up, just like he knows the type of breakfast that you can eat without upsetting your stomach early in the morning, what you like to drink to wake up and he doesn’t forget to prepare the vitamins next to the cup to keep you healthy. Yunho roughly remembers the time you need before you truly begin to function and he makes sure you’re out of the bed with enough time before you need to leave. If he can, he does anything in his power to make sure your morning goes smoothly. Your routines are so intertwined now it’s not that big of a deal anyway, but you appreciate it more than he’ll ever know. While your efforts are not as intricate, you try. Making sure he ate, reminding him to take breaks and that he’s already doing well, hugging him from behind when he least expects it. Yet he always one-ups you. It’s not a competition, of course, but any time you melt into his kiss while he’s rushing out the door has you feeling like he’s winning in this domestic life thing.

Yeosang ❧ If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you live with an angel. It’s rare to find a person as caring and generous as Yeosang. Or maybe you’re just taking advantage of him, even if he keeps reassuring you that’s not the case. The thing is, you’re pretty sure this world doesn’t deserve him - or at the very least, you don’t. He always shares with you without expecting anything in return. Peeling oranges is so much work, yet he never hesitates to give you at least half of his without you having to ask. You laugh at the couples on tv that fight over sharing fries because your saint of a boyfriend always encourages you to take his. Whatever is his, is yours. Although he might grumble playfully, he never threatens to take back the clothes you borrow. He’s bought another pillow because you kept saying that it’s more comfortable than yours. He shares his shower gel, his shampoo, his cologne sometimes too, just because you mentioned you liked smelling like him. You can only hope he won’t mind sharing his future with you too.

San ❧ He always stays aware of the looks people give him and how they react to him. San’s only wish is for everyone to be comfortable around him, and you most of all. As much as he knows you admire the hard work he’s put into his body and that your eyes linger on him just a second longer when he’s walking around shirtless, he knows that sometimes his appearance is something he needs to be mindful of. Conflicts happen in every relationship and sometimes people are simply too on edge. And that’s when he knows to sit down, ideally, or to focus on calming down even if it means holding his tongue when all he wants to do is argue back, to keep his posture relaxed instead of standing proud and rolling his shoulders back. He teaches himself patience for you. The last thing he wants is to scare you, and he knows how easy it is to make you flinch when emotions are high. It’s hard, but it’s all worth it when you no longer worry about approaching him after a fight. When you always finish making up with him by whispering a thank you against his lips.

Mingi ❧ The one thing that never fails to fascinate you about Mingi is how much attention he pays to you. Sometimes it might almost seem like he's hovering, but it's really just that he likes to spend his rare free time with you and make sure you're alright. He can't always be there for you and it makes him feel guilty, so he's trying to compensate for it when he can. And it's magical. He somehow always notices when you're about to bump into something, when you hold the knife in a dangerous way while cutting vegetables, or when you accidentally drop something and he pulls you right back so you don't get hurt. It's unbelievable how fast his reflexes work when it comes to you… and how he still manages to get hurt in all the ways he protects you from. If it wasn’t for his sheepish smile and hundred muttered apologies when you patch him up or get him an ice pack for his burned hand, you’d think he does it for attention.

Wooyoung ❧ He’s pretty sure he’s never made anyone as happy as he makes you. As you dig into the meal he’s prepared according to a recipe he’s never tried before, Wooyoung can’t hold back his smile at the sight of your cheeks filled with his food. He tries to fight it, but the genuine delight he sees on your face makes it impossible. It’s different from the proud look in your eyes when you see him perform, unlike the loving smile you grace him with each day or the happiness you radiate whenever he brings you little silly knick-knacks that reminded him of you. This is… purer? Is that the word? He can’t quite describe it, but he swears it’s the closest thing to pure joy he’s ever seen. And in turn it makes him smile the exact same way at you and your heart flutters because this is the effect you have on him? You end up smiling at each other like two idiots, your cheeks round and full with food, they burn because you’ve been grinning for the past ten minutes straight. It must be love.

Jongho ❧ Sometimes he wonders whether you’re getting tired. Feelings are messy, and expressing them is something he’s always struggled with, which usually leads to you making the first step. It’s a struggle to find the compromise between your individual love languages and Jongho will be the first one to admit you’re doing a significantly better job. Somehow you always manage to respect his boundaries while expressing yourself in the way you’re comfortable and making him feel loved. He’s trying, too, yet it seems to him it’s not enough. Maybe it’s the time strain, maybe it’s his own self-doubt creeping in. All he knows is that he loves you, and that it’s much easier to ramble, to vent, to be vulnerable and clumsily tell you all that he feels and thinks when you’re not looking at him with those eyes that make him feel like you already know each word he’s about to say. He’s so careful and gentle with his touch when you lay next to him asleep, his voice barely above whisper. Sometimes he hopes you’re only pretending and that you listen to him in silence. And sometimes he’s right.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #atz fluff

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lychee-drinks · 2 years

Note

hewwo!!!! open requests??? don't mind if i do!!!

could you write some headcanons of gun and goo (separate) falling in love with a ridiculously strong (male if you can if not can be whatever) reader. like reader is strong enough to yeet people away with a flick of their wrist. unfortunately tho reader is poor as shit like daniel level poor. bbuuutttt they don't really care for money and just want to live peacefully. i wanna see the two fighting obssessed dummies pine for someone who doesn't want their money and will kick their asses if they bother them.

Headcanons for Gun and Goo falling in love with a strong, but poor Male! Reader who doesn’t care and wants a peaceful life

(A/N) It’s been awhile since I last really wrote headcanons like this so sorry if it kinda sucks or is too detailed because I kinda wrote a lot 🙏. Also do use he/him pronouns like once for reader in this.

Jonggun Park

When Gun first met you, it was infatuation at first sight. There was a big fight with many of the main cast that you somehow got yourself caught up in. Showing off your strength, Gun took off his glasses and was amazed.

After you managed to fight off some fodder fighters, Gun approached you with an offer.

“Join me, and you’ll be making hundreds of thousands.”

You obviously rejected and returned to your business.

Gun was really pissed, but he tossed it aside and decided to remember your name. But you definitely stayed on his mind, and he thought about you nonstop. He’d be hanging out with Goo and suddenly, he gets reminded that you just completely walked out on his offer and gets pissed.

But it wasn’t like how it was when he met Zack, Vasco and all the other guys. His infatuation was even deeper. Gun never heard of you before because you managed to keep such a low life. So, he did a bit of digging and learned that you were dirt poor.

So, Gun’s wondering why the hell you don’t want to become a fighter or crew later that could be making hundreds of thousands to help your current situation.

So, one day, he finds you out in public and approaches you.

“Fight me.”

You were clearly bothered. All you were doing were running errands and Gun, the guy who’s always involved in this gang stuff that you despise is asking you to fight him.

And Gun’s somewhat offended. He continues to ask you why. And you’re really annoyed, you list your reasons such as wanting to live a peaceful life, and the money didn’t matter to you if your life was always gonna be on the line.

He’s only a little bit more questioning until you turn around and try to kick him away. He barely blocks it, but there is a gear in him that turns at the kick. After that kick, he couldn’t help but just let you go.

So, it goes on. Gun’s thinking of you, every other encounter you get with him, he’s asking for you to join him and you reject. It almost always ends in you punching or kicking him.

Goo teases him, “You’ve got a crush on that guy don’t you.”

And Gun sits back and realizes that that might just be the case. Gun didn’t care when he saw a lot of the other cast members show off their skills. Your form was perfect, you didn’t want his money, you wanted a peaceful life, you cared about all the people in your life and… you were kinda handsome.

So, Gun really does have a crush on you. He can’t tell if it’s really just infatuation because you’re strong or that maybe it’s something more that he never felt, but he’s determined to get to know you.

Gun approaches you again. No offers except he just wants to know if you want to eat with him. It’s a lot different from how he usually is you notice. He caught you on a bad day where you had to miss days at work because you were sick, so you barely had anything to eat that day. Hesitantly you agree.

The two of you eat, and at the same time you get to know each other. He’s asking about your life, and you tell him. You grew up poor and still are, but if it means living a peaceful life, then you’d rather stay that way then get involved with gangs.

Although Gun’s usually quiet and reserved, he opens up. If he was going to explore this strange infatuation, then the least he could do was talk about his life when you knew so much.

But just as you thought this would be a normal interaction of two people, Gun asks to fight you at the end of it. And you’re obviously pissed and decline. But that’s not the end of him in your life.

Joongoo Kim

Usually, Goo is the type to mess around. His first encounter with you is him witnessing you fight. He’s blown away, glasses falling off his ears blown away.

You make eye contact and ignore him, ready to just leave, but he approaches you and is upfront.

“Become my secret friend.” He tells you, and you say no, walking off. He even offered you money, but you declined.

Goo talks with Gun about you. How Goo met some cool guy recently and is very impressed by his talent (you). Goo is certain that he’ll cross paths with you again so, next time, he’ll just fight you.

The two of you meet again eventually. It’s another gang war that you didn’t want to but got dragged into. Goo has a sword aimed at you, he’s not gonna take the fight seriously. but he wants to test you.

Pissed off, you decide to go against him, but you weren’t gonna full on fight. Just try him out.

Your hits are strong, strong enough for him to take it seriously. He’s struggling trying to block your attacks, which he likes. But once Goo is pinned down, you punch the concrete next to his face.

“I don’t want to be involved in any of this gang shit.” And storm off.

Goo does his own researching on you, and he discovers that you’re dirt poor and a strong fighter. So, he’s confused as to why you’re not exploiting your skills to get involved with him and Gun. Because he’s seen it before.

One day you and him meet again, faced to face. He’s got a weapon in one hand aimed at you, “Why aren’t you taking my money?”

You tell him that this gang stuff isn’t something you want long term. You want a peaceful life, even if it means you’re poor. It’s a typical story he’s probably heard millions of times, someone who would rather be poor over having millions. But he feels a bit of sympathy for you.

When one gets involved in gangs, intentionally or not, it’s hard to escape it. But each time Goo meets you, it’s after some kind of fighting event. And he just asks you in his cheerful tone to join him, take his money, or both. And obviously you reject.

Gun points out that Goo seems to have a crush on you or something because Gun has never seen Goo act so persistent with anybody. And it hits Goo. Maybe it’s the playing hard to get, but he’s curious about you and will stay persistent.

#kim joongoo #park jonggun #jong gun #joon goo #goo joon x reader #park jong gun x reader #kim joon goo x reader #park joon goo x reader #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism gun x reader #lookism goo x reader #esse sfw #lookism x male! reader

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typical-simplelove · 9 months

Text

Hidden Words (R. Spiers)

Summary: Ron comes home from the war, wanting quiet and solitude, but when a friend from his childhood saves him when he needs it, a new friendship is formed. What happens when the lines are blurred and demands are made? Can Ron recognize he can have peace and quiet amidst the noise?

Author's Note: This is my Secret Santa fic for @latibvles. Thank you for bearing with me, and I'm sorry this took a moment. Between the end of the semester and the jump right into the family and holiday stuff, I've barely had time to breathe. Nonetheless, here it is, and I hope you like it!

Warnings: implied!female reader; mentions of the war (canon typical); mentions of having/wanting children in the future;

Word Count: 6.9k

Ever since he returned home, his mother continuously tried to step him up on a date. She didn’t understand that he didn’t want that; no part of him was ready to date. For starters, how could he explain the things he’d seen—done—in the war to anyone, especially someone he should be spending the rest of his life with?

Besides, he doesn’t think it’s worth it to spend all this time working on opening himself up and getting to know someone only for the relationship not to work out. There’s no point in trying to make something work when he knows it won’t.

But his mother wants grandkids, so he can’t say that to her.

Since he came home from the war, it’s as if the entire world is dead-set on producing the next generation. While Ron sees no flaws in that, he doesn’t want to partake. It’s not that he doesn’t want kids; it’s the process of finding someone to have children with. The time and effort weren’t worth it to him if it could fall apart—either by war or personal faults.

But his mother wants this for him, and he can never say no to his mother.

Presently, Ron and his family are on their way to a block party, hosted by a couple of families down the road. He remembers the names—some of the people he grew up with.

As they get closer, he starts to feel the anxiety building up. Everywhere he goes where people remember him from his childhood, they immediately begin to thank him for his service and want him to tell his stories. While he knows they have good intentions, he’s not always in the mood to talk about his experiences overseas, and sometimes, he would prefer to pretend they never happened.

As expected, once they arrive at the small corner of the neighborhood where the party is being hosted, he’s surrounded by people who want to hear his stories and tales. There are so many voices, making different requests, that he isn’t able to pipe in and ask to have this conversation another time.

He looks around for his mother, but she’s nowhere to be found. First, she drags him to this gathering; then, she leaves him alone. He shakes his head, frustrated.

“Excuse me,” a voice pipes in from being Ron. “I need to borrow him for a moment.”

Their hand intertwines with Ron and begins to pull him towards one of the houses. The moment is so hurried that he doesn’t have a chance to look at the person who’s dragging him away—his savior.

He’s so shocked and confused that he doesn’t register to which house they’re heading towards. He doesn’t register the familiar steps of stairs or the familiar room he’s in or the recognizable bed he’s sat on.

“Hi,” Ron says when he finally recognizes that you’re his savior, and you brought him up to your childhood room. “Long time no see.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, there was this war in Europe; did you know about that?”

“Vaguely,” he replies, a small smile begging to be released. He can’t remember the last time he smiled. “Thanks for saving me.”

You nod. “You look horrified, and as much as that amuses me, I figured today wasn’t the day to be bombarded.”

Living just down the street from each other, your family and his family often interacted. For a while, your lives orbited around each other. There was nowhere you went where Ron didn’t follow closely behind. He was your shadow, just being happy to be around you, soaking in your aura and liveliness.

He would spend hours of his days with you, and if he wasn’t with you, he was thinking about you or talking about you to anyone who would listen.

By the time you both reached high school, your friendship wasn’t socially acceptable anymore, so you and Ron drifted. Anyone who knew Ron before high school would say that a part of him died or drifted away when you both stopped being friends. A chunk of his soul, personality, and heart was chiseled out, waiting to be put back when you returned.

By the time Ron went off to war, you were pretty much strangers to each other. But, even if he didn’t know it, there were still parts of him that longed for you.

Sitting on your childhood bed, looking at you as you organize all the guests’ belongings that were scattered around your room, small parts of the missing pieces of himself started to be pieced back together.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, a curious and amused look in your eyes.

He nods.

Deep down, he knew he wasn’t letting the friendship go again.

. . .

“I didn’t have the chance to make anything, so I just went to the store,” Ron apologizes as he begins to take out food containers and lays them out on the picnic blanket.

“You were going to cook? Wait, actually, you know how to cook?”

He gives you a faint eye roll. “Yes, I’m not entirely helpless, by the way. But also, my mom has been trying to domesticate me in the event I decide to settle down. That’s been her post-war plan for me.”

You nod, ignoring the small pitter-patter of your heart. What would it be like to live with a domesticated Ron?

Whoa, you’re not sure where those thoughts stem from, but as he opens up the containers and begins to make you a plate of your favorites, you couldn’t help but wonder. He took the initiative in planning this. He was never late, and if he was going to be late, he made sure to communicate it. He was always conscientious about your feelings and what you wanted to do. He was just—

Were your standards that low, or was Ron just genuinely that great?

“What was it like?”

“What was what like?” Ron inquires in between bites.

“The war, being overseas.”

In a matter of seconds, Ron’s entire body tenses up, and you see the muscles in his neck tighten. “I would rather not talk about that.”

You nod. “What about the people you served with?”

“Don’t,” Ron replies, sharp and pointed.

“I shouldn’t have asked, sorry.” You wanted to know, but you understood why he wouldn’t want to share this information with you. It wasn’t an easy experience or an easy topic to discuss. But did that give him the right to be that rude and abrasive with you?

“I shouldn’t have responded the way I did, though, and I apologize for that.”

“It’s okay,” you reply.

A few minutes of awkward and heavy silence follows. The only sounds are the other families laughing and talking as they take in the nice weather. Now, you feel incredibly bad for bringing it up, but a part of you feels almost rejected. He doesn’t feel comfortable enough around you to open up.

The only way you know to end this weirdness is to talk about stories from the people around you, so you dive into the stories of people in the neighborhood and work, throwing in little quips and jokes. It takes a minute for Ron’s icy exterior to melt, but soon, he’s laughing along with your jokes and making small comments here and there.

Despite the way he’s interacting in the conversation, you can’t help but feel that he’s holding back from you, still. It’s almost as if he doesn’t feel at ease with you right now.

But then he flashes you one of his brightest and rarest smiles and the way his eyes sparkle as he looks at you and the sunlight shrouding him in a glow sets your entire body on fire. He was always known for being guarded, so you shouldn’t be surprised he’s holding back from the difficult conversations with you. But he doesn’t smile like that for anyone, right? So that has to mean something.

He means something to you.

Yeah, you’re screwed.

. . .

All he said was to come to dinner. You didn’t know what to expect, but all he said was to come to dinner, and no, you shouldn’t bring anything, despite your insistence. Just yourself, he said.

Just yourself.

Those words echoed in your mind for the days and the hours that passed between him asking you to come and you arriving at his doorstep.

Just yourself.

You’re not someone who often reads into things, especially when it comes to things with romantic feelings involved. For the sake of self-preservation, you didn’t let yourself read into things, but with Ron, you couldn’t help yourself. With every interaction you have with him, you so badly want it to be more.

Does Ron asking you to go to his mom’s house for family dinner mean something, or are you supposed to go only as friends?

The spiraling and spinning thoughts don’t stop as Ron welcomes you into the house, takes your jacket, and you shrug off your shoes. Did his fingers linger on your shoulders for a brief moment? Did he hug you a little longer than necessary, than normal? Did he give you a small smile, his eyes twinkling with a purpose? Did he treat everyone else this way, or were you special?

You so badly wanted to be special.

As the night went on and you were reintroduced to Ron’s family that you remember from when you were growing up, you pretended not to recognize the curious and interesting looks they gave you and Ron. You ignored the way their eyes drifted to where his hand was guiding you on your back or the way his hands rested on your shoulders when he was introducing you to someone. You ignored their pointed looks as he whispered in your ears every now and then or the looks he gave you.

No one wanted to say it or ask it, fearing the glare Ron would send them.

As much as you wanted them to ask or say something, you didn’t want to know what he would say. You didn’t want your worst fears to be confirmed.

“No,” Ron says, interrupting your thoughts as you make your way to the dinner table, finding a seat on one end of the table, not near where Ron was sitting. He rests his hands on your waist and guides you toward the other end of the table where he’s sitting next to his mom.

“I can sit there.”

“No.”

“Ron—”

“Don’t make me carry you over there. I want to sit next to you.”

“Okay,” you reply softly, ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart with the meaning of his words.

As the meal progresses, you’re sitting, chatting with the people around you, and you nearly jump out of your chair when Ron’s arm goes to rest along your shoulders. No way you can’t read into that, right? Ron’s not known for being a touchy person. That’s how it was growing up, but recently, with you, you can’t help but wonder if that reputation no longer exists for him—at least not with you. He was constantly trying to have some part of his body against yours, but was that something you could read into?

Your thoughts are interrupted when one of Ron’s aunts calls your name from somewhere across from you. “Are you single?”

You nod, taken aback. “Waiting for the right person to come along.”

“Well, if Ron isn’t going to do anything and give you an honest life, I have a few children and nieces and nephews who can and will.”

“Um, thank you.” You’re not sure how to respond to Ron’s aunt, but you look toward the man in question, trying to see what his reaction will be.

He gives you a small, courteous smile, a smile he never uses with you, a smile he only reserves for those he doesn’t want to talk to. He never uses that smile on you, but tonight, he did. “You can do whatever you want with your romantic life. We’re friends, right?”

Oh.

“Right,” you reply, turning your head away from him and back to your plate.

There goes that.

The way you turned away from him made Ron’s heart drop. You’ve never turned away from him like that, so dejected. The normal fire and spirit you have with Ron disappeared. He watched the sparkle in your eyes die right there in from of him. But he doesn’t know where he went wrong. You’re allowed to do whatever you want; he will never try to control you. He was just telling his nosey aunt the truth. You’re friends, and you can date whomever you want—not that any of his cousins were good enough for you.

The rest of the night continued, but a nagging feeling pulled at his heart as a deep pit opened in his stomach, and he had no idea where it came from. All he knows is that as he watched you help his mother with the dishes, the string on his heart pulled against him, warming his body in places he never knew possible. As he watched you do puzzles with his younger cousins, he couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling that he felt to the tips of his fingers.

When you hugged him goodbye, he knew he never wanted to let you go. He wanted to hold you against his body forever—keeping you safe from the world.

Ron couldn’t explain the agony in his body as he watched you walk to your car and drive away.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with you. He wouldn’t mind making his life for you.

Well, what does that mean?

. . .

Ron’s mother was at her reading club for the night, so Ron invited you over for dinner. He promised a “home-cooked meal, don’t give me that face,” and it excited you. Despite your realized feelings for the man, you can’t help but want to spend your time with him. You know that nothing will ever come of your feelings for Ron, but you can’t stay away from your friend. The happiness it brings you is indescribable.

But you have an exit plan when you feel yourself getting too much in your head (and delusional) around Ron.

Setting boundaries, you promised yourself. That was the only way you’d be able to spend time around him and not go crazy, breaking your heart.

As Ron welcomes you into his mother’s home, the smells from the kitchen hit your nose, and you’re instantly warm and fuzzy as if you’ve been wrapped in a warm blanket. Once your coat and shoes are off, Ron takes your hand and guides you toward the kitchen, giving you a soft smile as he watches you walk through his childhood home.

You’ve been down this hallway, seeing all the pictures of little Ron, many, many times, but there’s something different about it now for Ron. There’s a new meaning and feeling to it for him.

But he just chalks it up to being happy that it’s finally peacetime. That he can enjoy moments like these without the fear of being bombed or killed. The people and things most important to him are safe.

“Penne-vodka,” Ron answers when you inquire about what you’re making.

Your favorite, you think to yourself, trying to hide the toothy smile begging to be released.

“Your favorite, right?” he asks, a small twinkle in the corner of his eyes. You give him a small nod, and Ron can’t help the triumphant, happy feeling deep in his chest.

Ron turns back to the stove, stirring the pot, and you take the time to watch him cook. He’s different than high school, and as your eyes roam over his body, you’re appreciative of the changes his body has undertaken since graduating. The very good changes.

“Have you talked to anyone from our graduating class since being back?” you ask after a few minutes of silence.

“Not really,” he replies, short and to the point. “It’s not something I’m too keen on.”

“Why’s that?” you question in between bites of bread.

He shrugs, ending the conversation there.

Right, that’s Ron’s new thing. If he doesn’t want to talk about something, he’ll shut down. These conversations only happen on his time—which means never. While you understand that some topics may be too difficult for him to talk about, you wish it wasn’t so hard to talk with him. Often, you were the one who was starting the conversation, pretty much begging for Ron to say something. You knew he was engaged in the conversation because he maintained constant eye contact, laughed at your jokes, smiled at the appropriate times, and nodded when needed. But it felt like you were the only one who made an effort to talk. Sure, Ron was a quiet person, but there’s a difference between being a quiet person and letting the conversation be one-sided.

Besides, it was you. If Ron couldn’t talk to you, then he couldn’t talk to anyone. Or was it that he wouldn’t talk?

Why did it hurt you that Ron kept his words hidden and tucked away from you? You were supposed to be one of the people he trusted the most, so why couldn’t he untuck those words with you?

As you help Ron set the table to eat, you recall the time a few weeks back when you went to Ron’s for a family dinner. You remember that he didn’t say anything really to his relatives. While that made you feel slightly better, it didn’t fully appease your feelings. At least you knew that it wasn’t just you that he held back with, but then again, it was you, and there was no change.

As the meal continues, you put your confusion and doubts to the side. It didn’t matter his lack of talking or conversation because the safety, comfort, and warmth you felt around Ron significantly outweighed the talking issue. Even if you only got friendship out of him, you knew that you couldn’t go the rest of your life without the way he made you feel.

He made you feel safe and loved (even if platonically), and that by far was one of the most important things to you about finding a partner—romantically or platonically.

The rest of the night passed in quiet moments and short conversations, but it was never awkward. That’s how Ron was. There was no need to compensate for the lack of conversation because the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was secure and calm. It was the kind of quiet that came from years and years of learning and growing around the person you loved.

Well, shit, you chose to ignore that.

When it was about time for you to head home, you began to voice a goodbye, and Ron led you towards the front door where he helped you put on your coat.

“Wait, hold on,” Ron says as you’re putting on your shoes. “I have something for you.”

He quickly makes his back to the kitchen and comes back with a tray of food. You already had a large container filled with leftover Penne vodka, so you’re confused about what he was now handing you.

“I made you mac and cheese,” he tells you softly, the cheeks and the tips of his ears tinged red. “You can either put it all in the oven at once, or heat up chunks separately. I don’t know why I told you that because I’m sure you know how to cook for yourself. Anyway, I’ll help you take it out to your car.”

You can’t help the silly smile that takes over your face. You try to fight it, but the smile is there if Ron’s reddening face is any indication. You’ve wanted this boy to talk to you, and by the time you finally get him to say more than two sentences to you, he’s a stern, babbling, blushing mess. It was cute.

“Thank you, Ron,” you tell him, the smile heard in your voice. He nods and makes his way to put on his shoes and walk you to your car.

With the food and leftovers securely placed in your backseat, you and Ron linger at the driver’s side door. You’re leaning against the car as Ron stands close to you, towering over both you and the car. His eyes are searching your face for any indication of what to do next.

“Thank you for having me and cooking for me,” you finally say. You didn’t want to leave, but it was getting late, and his mother will be home soon.

“You’re always welcome here,” he tells you, his eyes sincere and honest. You nod. Without thinking, you lean forward and briefly kiss Ron on his cheek, your lips burning when you pull away, but it’s not any comparison to the way his cheek burns around where you kissed him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the way Ron’s hand stiffens into a fist as he processes what just happened. His breath is shaky and fast as you pull back, and his eyes are in a daze.

This time, you’re able to hide your smile as Ron’s face turns crimson red.

“I’ll see you soon,” you tell him, unlocking your car and getting ready to leave. “Good night.”

Ron stands there in a daze as you drive away, too confused to move. He’s standing there, unsure of what just happened and why his body reacts the way it did.

When his mother returns home almost twenty minutes later, Ron is still standing there.

“Is everything okay?” she asks as she walks over to Ron. That seems to mostly pull him out of his daze.

“She kissed me,” is all he says, and his mother smiles.

“You’re a lucky guy.”

He nods. “Very lucky.”

If only he could control his body temperature and heartbeat then maybe he’d be able to figure out what just happened.

. . .

“Do you remember Arden from middle school?” you prompt, your heart tugging at the meaning of your words.

Ron thinks for a moment, his thumb drawing circles around your ankle. You’re sitting on the couch in the living room of his mother’s home. She’s out, so you feel comfortable resting against one of the armrests, your feet in Ron’s lap. You’re reading a book. The minute your legs rested in Ron’s lap, he placed his arms on your ankles, tracing small patterns, leaving trails of fire in his fingertips’ wake.

“Yes,” Ron voices, his tone neutral. He doesn’t know where this is going, but if it’s going where he thinks it’s going, he’s not going to appreciate it.

“They asked me out,” you say after a few moments.

“Why are you telling me this?” Ron asks, terser than you expected. You’re taken aback by his response.

“Because you’re my friend—one of my best friends—and we tell each other things,” you reply. “Well, at least I tell you things.”

“What does that mean?” Ron asks, him now taken aback.

“It means you don’t tell me anything. I know nothing about your life since we finished high school, and what I do know, your parents have told me. It’s not fair for me to be the only one to share things! I don’t exist as a form of entertainment for you.”

“That’s not fair.”

You know it’s not entirely fair.

“I don’t have to share what the war was like for me,” Ron spits back. But that’s not what you’re referencing, and deep down, you know that he knows that, too.

“It’s not just that,” you reply. “I’m not talking about that. You’re not required to tell me anything about your time in the war, and that’s not what I’m asking for. There’s so much more to your life that you choose not to tell me about. It’s not fair or right that I’m an open book, and you take it all in, not giving anything back in return.”

“Don’t do that.”

“You know everything about me, and I know pretty much nothing about you, and I’m tired of that.” A deep sigh leaves your mouth. “You don’t need to tell me everything, but I shouldn’t be disappointed in the lack of open communication between us. It’s as if you don’t trust me.”

“How can you say that? I trust you more than anyone else in this world!” Ron hears the rise in the volume of his voice. He leans back on the couch, trying to stop himself from yelling because you’re right. He doesn’t share much with you. As much as he wants to share with you, he can never get himself to say anything, and it’s not just about the war. He’s holding back; he knows he is.

“I’m going to leave.”

“No, please, don’t,” Ron pleads. Despite this, he releases his hold on your ankles. He won’t hold you back despite how badly he wants to.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, Ron.” It’s a thinly veiled confession of love, and you know Ron picks up on it, but you know he won’t say anything or give you a response.

“What makes you think I want that?” So, he was going to address it, but it still got you fuming.

“I don’t! That’s the whole point! You don’t talk to me, so I have no idea what’s going on in your mind! I don’t want to waste my time, but I don’t want to spend my time with anyone else but you!”

You’re staring at him, begging for him to say something, anything. If he told you it was all in your head, you’d believe him. All he needed to say was anything, but you know he won’t. That’s not the kind of person Ron is. He has his walls up; he always has. The war only reinforced them, and while you can’t blame him for keeping things to himself, you can’t help but feel that your worth in his eyes diminished because of his lack of want to share. It’s almost as if you don’t mean as much to him as he means to you. It’s as if you’re more invested than he is in this relationship—platonic or romantic.

It’s not fair to think those thoughts, but he’s not saying anything to you. He’s not making you feel any better. If he really cared for you in any way, he would say something, right? Ron’s perceptive. He very likely has a clue to what you’re feeling, but you also know he won’t say anything. He stays away from uncomfortable conversations because he isn’t comfortable having them.

“I’m going to leave, now,” you finally decide. “It’s not fair for me to keep hanging around when I clearly don’t mean that much to you.”

“You’re wrong,” Ron spills, reaching out to gently grab your hand. You know that he could have held you tighter, but he didn’t. That makes your heart melt, despite the conclusions you’re gathering tonight. He’s giving you the ability to walk away.

“Tell me why.” You’re looking deep into his eyes, and you want to read into all the looks he’s giving you, but you won’t. Not anymore.

A few minutes pass where you’re looking at him, silently begging him to say something.

“I’m leaving now. Please don’t contact me unless you genuinely understand where I’m coming from or why I’m doing this.” With that, you shake your hand out of Ron’s hold, walking away from him, your heart breaking with every step you take.

As he watches you walk out the door, fuming in anger, confusion, and frustration, Ron can’t help but wonder if he let the best love of his life walk away forever.

. . .

A few days pass, and Ron feels a deep aching in his soul. He watches the phone for hours, begging and hoping you’ll call. He knows you won’t call. He knows the cards are in his hands. That doesn’t mean he knows what to do.

Well, he knows what to do, but he doesn’t know if he’s capable of carrying it out.

Ron doesn’t know where to start.

There’s so much of what you said that’s bothering him, but he can’t tell why it’s bothering him. Maybe it’s because of the way your words pierced a hole through his heart, but then again, there are so many other feelings and things that only came out in his heart, mind, stomach, and body whenever you were around. Are those things connected?

The first thing that made his blood boil and had Ron seeing red was the idea of you going on a date with someone. In theory, the person who asked you out (they who shall not be named) isn’t objectively a bad person, but Ron just doesn’t want you with them. Why would you spend your time with they who shall not be named when you can spend your time with Ron? He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling this angry about you spending your time with someone else.

It’s a date, Ron tries to reason with himself. I can’t give that to her.

But could he?

Those thoughts ran through his mind one night at 2 am when Ron couldn’t fall asleep. Could he give you all of your wants and desires romantically? Could he find it in himself to give you a life with more than just friendship? Objectively, Ron knows that out of all the people in the world, you’re the best option to build a life with, and you’re the only person Ron knows he can handle. But that’s not fair to you, to be the last resort (or is it the best resort? Ron hasn’t gotten there, yet.) or someone to “handle.”

The thought of spending the rest of his life with you freaks him, but it also comforts him. Who knew someone could feel both at the same time? Is this what it means to love someone?

Once he has that singular thought, your other comments spring up in his mind, pushing away any thoughts of love.

It’s not fair or right that I’m an open book, and you take it all in, not giving anything back in return.

The war broke Ron. He was already broken, but the war broke him in ways that he never knew he could break. He’s so broken that he couldn’t imagine subjecting you to that. But that’s my decision to make, Ron, he could hear you saying if he voiced those words to you. And imaginary-you is right. It’s intimately clear that you know what you’d be getting when it comes to Ron, and it would be your choice to choose to make a life with him, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He knows he can prevent that pain if he keeps you at arm’s length.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Ron doesn’t want that. He wants you as close to him as molecularly possible. He wants to stay away, but he can’t. That’s the effect you have on him.

He thinks he has it all figured out, and then he remembers the pain in your eyes as you walked away, and when you said,

It’s not fair for me to keep hanging around when I clearly don’t mean that much to you.

He’s already hurt you. By not having the capacity or the ability to tell you just how much you mean to him, he hurt you. You think you mean nothing to him when the truth is the exact opposite. You are his entire world, the reason his heart keeps beating, and the reason he takes a breath. But it’s gone.

He’s never going to be able to tell you how much you mean to him. He’s never going to tell you how much he loves you.

That thought scares him but also excites him. He’s always been so afraid to think that of himself, but when it’s connected to you, it’s okay. He loves you and knows he’s not good at loving, but somehow, loving you is much better than anything else. He knows that because it’s you, he’ll find a way to fix his shit and be the best possible person for you. But he knows that you won’t let him go and you won’t let him fall. Loving you is the best thing he can do because he found someone who will hold on with their entire being, and Ron knows that he’ll hold onto you with his entire being.

Loving you means that he takes those scary steps in opening up and being vulnerable. For so long, it was ingrained in Ron’s mind and survival that he couldn’t be vulnerable. Now, he’s learned that in some instances, it’s important not to be vulnerable, and in other circumstances, it’s okay to be vulnerable and open. Being vulnerable is okay because there’s someone there who will take your vulnerability and build a wall around you to the point that you’re safe and comfortable.

And Ron knows that person is you.

You’ll take his fragility, emotions, and vulnerability and make it your own. You’ll protect him and love him, and you won’t hurt him because he chose to be fully himself around you.

Because that’s what love does.

Love cures. Love protects. Love endures. But most importantly, love loves.

Ron loves you.

He loves you.

He loves you so wholly that he wants to spill his entire world right at your feet. He wants to lay everything at your feet, but he knows it will take time and patience. He knows that you’re that person who will let him get there, and he knows that he’ll love you for it and make it worth your while to give him the time and the way to be vulnerable.

For a moment, Ron’s scared that maybe he lost his chance with you, but then he remembers something you said that struck him deep in his heart, not knowing the effect it had:

I don’t want to waste my time, but I don’t want to spend my time with anyone else but you!

He knows it’s not guaranteed that you’ll let him back in your life, but he knows he has a small chance. He knows he has a small chance to tell you how much he loves you and to show you that he’s worth it. He’s worth taking a risk for because you’re worth taking a risk for.

You’re worth everything to Ron, and it’s about time he finds the words to tell you.

Maybe all he needs to start with is three little words.

. . .

“You’re right,” Ron blurts out, barely letting you open your door.

“I mean, yeah, but why do you say that?” you say, a small smile on your face despite the conversation you both had a few nights ago.

“That it’s not fair of you to be the only one to share things. I’m not ready to tell you everything, and I don’t know if I ever will be able to tell you some parts of what happened to me, but I want to try. But you’re right, there’s so much more to that than just the war, and it’s not fair of me to have made you feel lesser because I’m not emotionally capable of telling you things or being the person you needed me to be. ”

“Ron—”

This was everything you wanted him to say to you, but does it change anything?

He shakes his head. “If I want to be with you and make a life with you, I shouldn’t be a ghost to you. I shouldn’t be someone you know nothing about.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with,” you attempt to reassure. “That wasn’t the point.” And that was the truth.

Ron nods, and a small smile tugs at his lips. If only he knew the things he could make you do with just that small smile. “I’ve always been afraid of people knowing too much about me, but I guess the part of falling in love is learning to trust the most important person in your life, and I trust you. I trust you. I want to tell you all the words that are building up in my mind because you’re the only person I want to share them with. I have so many words built up in my mind that it feels like my body will explode. I never wanted to try with anyone else, but you make me want to do better and be better. Even if this goodbye, I’m still going to make an effort for all the people that matter in my life.”

“If it feels like your body is going to explode, maybe you should go to the doctor. That can’t be a good sign.”

A chuckle of disbelief leaves Ron’s mouth as he shakes his head.

“What?” you question. No response follows. Ron gently grabs your upper arm and pushes you into your home as he lets himself inside. Gently and with reluctance, he lets go of your arms and shoves off his shoes.

“I tell you I’m in love with you and I trust you, and the only thing you got from that was maybe I should go to the doctor?”

“Oh, oops.”

“Yeah, oops,” Ron mocks, one of the widest smiles you’ve ever seen stripes his face. “I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, and you never were going to lose me.”

He shakes his head. “You really know how to make a man’s heart weaken and emasculate him. But I guess I deserve this bit of agony and anguish.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“I’m telling you I love you, and you keeping skipping over that part.”

“Because you keep saying things that warrant my more imminent response!” you defend.

“You’re doing it again,” Ron points, stepping towards you.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I’m going to try something,” Ron teases. He’s never teased you before. That was new; it was a new tone to his voice that you wouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of your life.

“What’s that?” your voice shaky. You can’t tell if he can hear you over the rattling of your heart, but by the twinkling in his eyes, you know that he’s in complete control, hoping to elicit a response from you.

“I love you.”

It takes a few seconds for you to register what he’s saying. A few blinks help your visual field clear up. Those three little words wipe the air out of your lungs. The ringing in your ears matches the beat of your heart as you process those three little words. For so long, you’ve been waiting for Ron to utter those three words. You didn’t want to be the first one to say those words. He’s so incredibly guarded that you weren’t sure if you were making up how you felt or how he felt, but now you know. You’ve been waiting so long to hear him finally tell you those three little words, and you have no idea what to do next.

“Hey,” Ron whispers, gently lifting your chin to match his eyeline, taking you out of your thoughts. “What’s going on in your mind? Did I say the wrong thing?”

“What—what did you say?” Your breath is shaky, words finally leaving your lips.

“Do you promise that if I say it again, you promise not to silently spiral?”

“No.”

Ron chuckles. “Fair enough.”

A few seconds pass. You’re looking deep into his eyes. You want to say it to him, but you’re unsure if you dreamed it. But also, the way he said those words, his voice deep and husky did so many things to your body that you needed to hear it again.

“I love you.” A small, nervous smile tugs at his lips as he looks at you expectantly. It takes you a few seconds to get your bearings straight, but when you do, a wide smile overcomes your face, and instantly, Ron knows you’re on the same page as him. In a matter of milliseconds, Ron pulls you against his chest, nuzzling his face against your neck, taking in deep breaths, laced with your calming scent. He’s whispering small “I love you”s into your neck as your arms find their way around his shoulders, your fingers creeping into his hair.

Despite wanting to be in his embrace for the rest of your life, you pull back slightly, your nose resting against his. “I love you,’ you whisper, wanting so badly to close the gap between your lips and kiss him.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” Ron replies, his lips brushing against yours. It doesn’t take much for you both to lean in, closing the gap, resting your lips on each other’s. It’s a soft kiss, hesitant and scary. There are still things that need to be sorted out, but right now, things are alright. Things are okay. The basis and the foundation are there.

You love each other. Without that, nothing else matters. With that, you and Ron can build and develop things from there. With love, all the hidden words will no longer be tucked away, slowly finding their way to the surface.

The future is uncertain, and there’s no telling if this will work out. But because you and Ron love each other, everything and anything is possible. With love, the future is endless.

Fin.

Likes are appreciated; reblogs are better

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