#he also helped him get cleaned up but that was getting into cheesy sappy fluff territory and i can't draw that to save my life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

op-peccatori · 4 years ago

Text

Hopefully, Yours (part 1) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8823

Summary: A fight between co-stars leads to you taking their place, along with the man you’ve been carrying a rather fervid torch for. A happy accident—except it’s a dating show and you have to pretend your feelings aren’t real. | Part 2

Warnings/Tags: language, fluff, oblivious behaviour, dating show, social media, Victor might be a little OOC because I’ve written him differently, some making out in the next part hence the rating, no smut though, my sense of humour

A/n: as always, I’m here to clown around. I tried something a lil new (for me) in this one 👉👈 something I picked up quite recently from works I adored, so I hope you like it! It got longer than I intended so I had to split it into 2 parts ;.; Victor said: keep writing, hoe.

ALSO!!! Yours by Ella Henderson is. THE Victor/MC song for me. I felt it in my bones when I listened to it again after all these years. brb crying

It’s the incessant buzzing of your phone that lures you out of the warm cocoon of your blanket.

You don’t really want to come out of your haven. Not after the week you’ve had, and because you know what awaits you. But as Anna had told you, there’s no way you can avoid this. They had finished editing the episode on Thursday, and Jason had already texted you last night to let you know it would be ready to be uploaded at 7:00 pm today.

Reaching listlessly for your phone, you squint at the bright screen through bleary eyes; it’s 9:00 pm already, and you’ve managed to sleep most of your Sunday away. It’s been a whole week since you filmed the episode, and while you were able to keep your thoughts at bay through it, it’s finally caught up to you.

After all, this is the episode you’re going to be in.

Pulling your laptop towards you, you open the tab that has the streaming site open. Your heart begins its anxious thump against its cage, a beat all too familiar to you by now. As the video begins playing, the memories of that day rise up to the forefront of your mind, refusing to be outdone by this meticulously edited version.

It started with a plan. A very well-thought-out plan.

“He called me a bitch. How can you still expect me to shoot with this jerk?”

Things were not going according to the very well-thought-out plan.

From your place next to Homer, the camera guy, you watched with mounting apprehension as Hollow resisted the AD’s attempts to placate her. But she did seem calmer, the scalding rage of her glare simmering down as he continued to reason with her.

And then her partner for the episode walked back onto the set.

“She said my songs are predictable! You want me to work with a hater?” Kai protested loudly, and Hollow turned back to him in a fury. The AD looked back at you in dismay, the rest of the staff watching with varying levels of exasperation.

“This is supposed to be a cheesy, ultra-romantic show,” Kiki whispered from her place at your side.

“This is what the reality is. All that sappy crap is for the camera,” Willow snorted, shaking her head in disenchanted disappointment.

There may be more than a kernel of truth in that. Hopefully, Yours was your company’s latest project; the second season, the first one having been produced by a different group. It’s a romantic web-series that featured different couples going on dates around town. The couples featured ranged from non-celebrities to people who are household names. So far, there hadn’t been too many issues with the participants—so you really should have expected this.

“Not always!” you cut in, fiddling nervously with your planner. “Some of the couples have gone on to date for real. Raymond and Liliana got married!” A lovely couple from an episode that aired last year. They’d been in the news recently too.

“They’re getting divorced,” Homer piped up in response. You hoped the look on your face let him know how unhelpful that was and turned back to the clashing couple. The AD looked harrowed and harassed as things turn increasingly hostile.

“Willow, do we have a backup couple?” you asked after a long moment of watching them spit insults. “Or just one person to replace either of them. What about Carlson?”

“He won’t be in town until tomorrow.”

‘Can I leave town?’ You wondered in a fit of desperate, wishful thinking.

“And we’ve got everyone here, with everything set up. Can we really waste time?” Kiki wondered out loud.

“No, we can’t,” answered a strained voice from behind you. All four of you turn to see Anna striding towards you, her hassled expression sending a frisson of worry through your stomach. “___, we’ve got guests.”

“Guests?” you repeated numbly. “What guests?” From the look on her face, it couldn’t be good news.

Anna held your gaze for a second, looking vaguely apologetic, before stepping to the side, allowing you to get a look at who Jason, the director, had rushed off to greet. You felt the ground shift beneath you, throat drying rapidly and the surrounding noise dimming as you focused on the new arrivals—your friend, your boss if you insist on the technicalities, and the star of most of your daydreams. LFG’s very own CEO, Victor, and his loyal secretary, Goldman.

In other words, people you hadn’t expected to see today.

“Why?” you whimpered, mostly panicked, but distantly amused by how enthusiastically he’s being greeted. It gave you a few moments to get it together, a familiar buzz coming to life underneath your skin.

This is terrible. Surely, this is karmic retribution for some misdeed committed by you.

“Boss, get it together,” Kiki hissed in an echo of your thoughts, and you realized you had half-fallen back into her and Willow’s arms, their hands steady on your shoulders.

“This is really bad timing. Like, really bad,” Willow pointed out unnecessarily as you straightened up, running a quick hand through your hair.

“Goldman said they just dropped in to see how it’s coming along. I don’t really understand why, this is not at all Victor’s cup of tea, but he’d been hesitant about the show, so...” With a sympathetic smile, Anna placed a hand on your elbow, squeezing lightly. The comfort it brought is chased away almost immediately by a furious screech.

“That is it. I’m done!”

Turning just in time to watch Hollow stalk off the set, you tried to restart your thought process. You just needed to solve this.

“How do we solve this?” Kiki asked in a low voice, and Willow shook her head helplessly.

With no answer for her, you could only watch as Jason led Victor and Goldman towards the set. You knew the exact moment he saw you; there was no smile, but a slow blink. It was still early in the afternoon, and his patrician features were alight with a soft glow in the golden sunlight, the curve of his lip relaxed and his clever gaze taking in you and everything happening around you in seconds. You’re not sure what he saw in your face but it made the corners of his mouth pull downwards.

Your stomach plummeted, seized by a sudden urge to flee.

But with his long strides, he reached you before you could take a step back. Kiki and Willow retreated silently, greeting him like newly registered soldiers coming face to face with their general and leaving you at his mercy. You would have felt miffed, but the way the sunlight softened his features was a little distracting. His lips moved, and you’re certain he said something, but couldn’t quite hear him over the sound of your heart drumming in your ears.

Homer coughed loudly, popping the bubble.

“Good morning, Victor!” Certain your lack of actual delight was obvious, you tried to inject as much enthusiasm into your voice as you could while your project went up in flames behind you. Not that you weren’t happy to see him, as the sudden thrill twisting through insisted on reminding you, but the prospect of disappointing him was one you would rather not face.

There was no visible reaction from Victor, but Homer looked a bit disturbed by the attempt. Goldman just looked like he pitied you, while Jason looked oddly contemplative. This was probably his first time seeing you this…dazzled.

“Good morning,” Victor replied evenly. His eyes, a constant, focused storm and his silken hair falling artfully over his forehead form a picture so lovely, almost beyond words. It’s never stopped you from waxing poetic about them, or his long list of admirable personality traits, but he had a way of knowing when you’re not paying attention. “Looks like I picked a bad time to check in.”

You couldn’t quite pin down the inflexion in his tone, but your immediate guess was that he was either severely disappointed or was low-key mocking you.

With how quickly things derailed, it’s understandable.

“Haha,” you laughed—an unfortunate coping mechanism that seems to flare up most often in his presence. Also, because Victor looked unfairly gorgeous, as always and you were a fool with a worryingly erratic pulse. “Just a few bumps. Nothing we can’t fix.”

Behind you, Kai declared his intent to leave as well. There’s a contract, so they would have to look into this, but that would take time. At that moment, Victor was eyeing the singer leaving the set and your nervous smile with his brows steadily climbing higher.

“Right. Anything I can do to help?” he offered, and the shame that elicited is so fierce you felt like you’d shrunk. This was supposed to be a casual visit, for him to see how the filming was going and instead you made him feel the need to step in and clean up the mess.

“No,” you said, firm, immediate, vehement. He frowned down at you. “We’ll come up with something. Why don’t you two take a seat, we’ll get you some drinks and Anna can go over the ratings and numbers with you.”

Victor seemed to hesitate, still frowning at you, but relented when you mustered up a small but convincing smile for him. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” he insisted, because he’s nice like that, before following Goldman and Anna into the small room you’ve converted into an office. You have a small but closed set for the first meeting of the couples, before the crew moves to whatever location has been picked out for the date.

“He’s nicer than he looks,” Homer observed as the two of you watched him leave.

“He’s lovely,” you said miserably. Who would have thought there’d be a day when you said that about Victor? He was still an evil capitalist, but he’s a kind man.

Homer didn’t get the chance to reply as Jason rushed up to you.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to sit those two down for a talk, but we don’t have time for that today. We need substitutes,” Jason said, not nearly as panicked as you would expect from a director who had no one to direct. It was admirable, this ability to keep his head even when he hits what looks like a dead end.

“I’ll make some calls.” Reaching into your pocket, your mind ram through your options as your hand closed around your phone.

“I want you to do it,” Jason declared.

It took you a few seconds to realize you hadn’t misheard. He looked back at you steadily, already resolute in his decision. You looked around, expecting protests, but the staff members only looked eager.

“…I don’t like this joke,” you said, slowly.

“Good thing it wasn’t one!” Jason returned cheerfully. “Before you turn it down, let me say—please? And don’t go off with the ‘I’m nobody!’ thing. People know who you are.”

“Um.” You really, really didn’t know what to say to him.

“My brother thinks you’re hot,” Homer offered, and Jason beamed at him.

“Okay, we’ll do this. You’re the producer of one of the oldest and most popular shows. You’ve gained more media presence over the last two years. You’re also friends with Kiro and Professor Lucien, so people have been quite curious about you for a while! This is just a fun little thing. Please?” Jason pleaded.

In the spirit of fairness, you took a minute to think about it. It would solve half the problem. And today’s location was a local fair, where the couple got to try out anything they want to, with all the expenses covered by the company. The very thought of stepping in front of the camera left your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t deny the bud of excitement that seemed to have taken root.

In the end, your stomach made the choice for you.

“If you think it’ll be fine, then sure,” you acceded, thoughts filled with stir-fried noodles and holding hands with a faceless person. “But what about the other person?”

“Hmm,” Jason looked in the direction of the office, reminding you that you don’t have all day to decide.

“I could call Gavin and ask if he’s free,” you suggested. People adore him. “Or Lucien?”

Jason nodded as if truly considering it, his gaze sharp on you. “Good choices. What about Victor?”

“Yeah, no. That is a bad idea,” you said at once, without giving it a moment’s thought. This was a dating show, where people go on cute dates and act adorable on camera. The very thought of Victor doing that at all, let alone with you…was something you couldn’t think of because it was ridiculous. And bad for your poor heart.

“It is an excellent idea,” Jason disagreed. You hated to be the bearer of bad news, but this was necessary. You’ve known Victor for a while now, and felt responsible for Jason’s well-being that would inevitably be threatened if he embarks on this particular path.

“He’d never agree to it,” you told him solemnly. The man barely agrees to do interviews; a show like this? Out of the question. “You know who he is, right? He doesn’t have time for this.”

“Why don’t you leave that to me, and go get ready. I’ll go get your man,” Jason said, loud and bright, shooing you in the direction of the dressing rooms. You stood there for another minute, dazed and afraid. What if Victor thought it was your idea?

The horror.

The terror.

“I’m still texting Lucien!” you called after him, voice pitched high in your alarm. Before you could follow Jason to make sure Victor knows you would never suggest this, an arm slid around your shoulder.

“Darling,” Arnold, the head stylist, cooed at you. “I heard the good news.”

“How?” It had been two minutes. People shouldn’t be spreading this without the director’s confirmation.

“Forget the hows. This is your time to shine. Come, we’re going to make that CEO drool,” he proclaimed, shepherding you towards the dressing rooms. “And I can finally do something about this hair!”

“He’s not going to agree.” You were absolutely certain of that, even as your mind continued to conjure cutesy images of you sharing cotton candy with the reticent man.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you reached for your phone over the cotton pads, watching Arnold’s reflection in the large mirror as he flitted about the small room, picking out different outfits. You hadn’t gotten a chance to check it for a while, and scrolled through your texts swiftly, pausing on a few in particular.

‎

Victor [9:00]: Hello. I’ve got some time off today.

Victor [9:02]: Is it alright if we drop by the set? What time is your lunch break?

Victor [9:20]: You must be busy. I spoke to Anna. I’ll see you later.

Victor [9:25]: Also, good morning.

‎

Oh.

He had actually let you know he’d be dropping in. Taciturn and domineering he may be, but Victor’s quiet consideration often left you glowing with warmth. In comparison, your own clumsiness often left you embarrassed. In this instance, it made you feel doubly determined to do this right.

‎

Y/N [12: 05]: Hi, sorry I missed these. Don’t worry, I’ll get us back on track.

‎

Closing Victor’s chat, you took a moment to consider your options before making your choice.

‎

Y/N [12:07]: Lucien! Are you free?

Lucien [12:15]: Hello. Just wrapped up a lecture. I thought you were going to be shooting today?

Y/N [12:16]: I am. Actually, I had a favour to ask.

‎

You stared down at the screen of your phone, shoulders relaxing as one of the assistants fussed with your hair. Should you wait for Jason before asking him? You knew what the outcome will be, regardless of what you wanted. You’ve always known, always kept your thoughts safe behind a barrier, never letting them spill out in Victor’s presence.

You thought back to his disappointment, and something fragile in your chest tightened.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you prayed to all the powers above that this works out.

‎

Victor [12:18]: Dummy. I’m not worried.

‎

There was a knock at the door as you opened the chat, thrown off but pleased by Victor’s confidence.

“Guys, can I come in?”

It was Jason.

With trembling fingers curling tight, you sat up straighter as he was let in. Your pulse quickens, your emotions jumbling together until your can’t tell them apart. You kept your expectations low. You knew what the answer would be. It couldn’t hurt if you expected it.

You just hoped it wouldn’t change anything. It wasn’t your idea.

“He agreed!” Jason announced with a flourish, and your heart halted its despondent march. “His secretary’s picking up his outfit, they said it won’t take too long. We’ll do his hair and mak—uh, are you okay?”

You swallowed your heart back down. “He said yes.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stretching out his answer, nodding as Arnold thrust an outfit at him.

“And he…knows it’s with…me?” you asked carefully.

Jason’s brows climbed a notch higher. “Yes, of course.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite read.

“Right, right. That’s great! Fantastic. Wonderful,” you said admittedly weakly, turning your gaze back to your reflection. The colour seemed to have drained from your skin, and you ignored the concerned glance exchanged by Jason and Arnold.

“___, hey,” Jason began gently, coming up to stand behind your chair. “Are you okay with this?”

You studied his worried expression, thoughts turning inward. You shifted aside the panic, the disbelief, the prickling nerves, and shushed the sparks of excitement.

A date with Victor.

It sounded wonderful. But the problem was never about you not wanting it. It was that you’ve wanted it for so long and so badly. Could you really have this?

“It’s okay to say no. It’s just…I don’t think it’ll be as awful as you think,” Jason said. His brow furrowed as the lines of your face smoothed out.

Oh.

“It’s for the camera,” you remembered, and Jason hummed thoughtfully. Regardless of what he may think of you, Victor wouldn’t let it show on the screen. You knew he was aware of what the show entails. So, perhaps, you could have this. It was for work. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.”

Your breath evened out from its shallow state, and you smiled up at Jason, who still looked concerned.

“It’ll be okay.” Your phone buzzed again, and you gathered yourself once more.

‎

Lucien [12: 23]: What can I do for you?

Victor [12:24]: And I look forward to working with you.

‎

It wouldn’t be real.

Telling yourself it wouldn’t be real was easy.

Sitting next to Victor, your high stools positioned close together as you tried to keep your thoughts away from dangerous paths, was not easy. But the light notes of his scent, sandalwood and myrrh if your nose hadn’t led you astray, threatened to lull you into a state of near-intoxication.

Jason had wanted to film the ‘first meeting’ and, for the sake of authenticity, decided to have Victor wait in front of the camera while you got to be the one to walk in. Which meant it was straight from the dressing room to the set. While you were thankful you wouldn’t be filmed drooling on camera, it still meant you wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him until after, or in between takes.

You were a lot more grateful for the arrangement when you did walk to the set, because the sight of Victor—clad in a slim-fit black shirt, paired with a dark grey jacket and black pants that stretched deliciously over his muscled thighs—stopped you dead in your tracks, your thoughts wiped blissfully clean.

The look on his face, bright under the studio lights, had been unreadable, but it didn’t look like his usual unimpressed poker face, so you decided to take it as not quite a win, but not a loss either. Then the small upturn of the corners of his lips, however, threatened to overload your system, prompting you to avert your gaze slightly as you walked to him, for fear of losing yourself.

Your hi had been shyer than intended, but his hello had been the gentlest you had ever heard it.

And then he handed you a bouquet of red, fragrant roses and you felt yourself grow weak.

It was a short take, where you both introduced yourselves, and discussed where you’d be going for the date.

“Do you like fairs?” he’d asked, gaze intent as if your answer was of the utmost importance.

“I love them,” you’d answered, meaning it completely, and he’d looked glad.

Even through the wild beating of your heart, you had managed to feel impressed. He was doing wonderfully already. Who knew Victor had these acting skills? Hopefully, he thought the same of you. You weren’t acting, though, and this, you were quickly realizing, could be a wonderful way to lift the lid off the pot just a little, and let your real feelings shine through.

You would be filming the individual, interview type scenes last, after the date.

With the first meeting done, with Jason going over the take to make sure he had everything he needed, you would be moving to the location soon. But first-

You looked around quickly, covering your mic and making sure nobody was paying too much attention to you, before turning to Victor—only to nearly jump in fright when you met his eyes. How he’d known you wanted to talk, you’d never know. His own eyes had widened when you’d turned around all of a sudden, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. He had probably been startled by your reaction.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning up at him, and his lips twitched as he covered his mic.

“You’re doing well,” Victor told you, giving you a firm nod, and you couldn’t quite keep from beaming at him.

“Thanks, you too. I never knew you were hiding such a skilled actor in there!” You really meant it, but your words gave him pause, mouth opening and closing as he considered his response. Strange, as modesty was something he didn’t often bother with. Not to say he’s arrogant, just that he knew his strengths.

“…thank you,” he finally said. “You too. I didn’t know you could…act.”

Because you weren’t acting. The blushing, the shy giggling, the warmth buzzing through you, they were painfully real.

You shrugged, smiling slightly, and he looked away.

“Just…thank you, Victor,” you murmured. “I know this isn’t really your thing. But I promise I’ll do my best to make it enjoyable.”

The light, airy sound that escaped his mouth could almost be a laugh. He did shoot you a small smirk, facing you once more. “Well, you’re not wrong. But it can’t be too bad. I’ve heard they’ve got good street food.”

“Good street food,” you repeated blankly. Wasn’t he taking this acting thing too far? This was bordering on alarming, coming from the man who used to look down on you for eating instant noodles.

“Yes.” He looks at you as if daring you to argue, and, well, who are you to argue with an actor’s method?

His smile faded slightly as yours widened, eyes fixating on yours, your voice pitching higher in your excitement. “I know, yeah, great food. Literally the only reason I agreed to do this!”

Victor’s face shutters at that, his lips pressing tightly together. “Hm.” He turned back to face the camera, leaving you confused, before realisation dawned.

“Hey, don’t worry! I won’t be too much of a glutton, we’ll be on camera, after all,” you told him, as reassuringly as possible because you and good food were a dangerous combo.

He arched a sharp brow at you. “We’ll see about that. I may spend most of my time in kitchen, but Mr Mills has much to tell me about some of your reactions.”

It was only through the sheer power of your offence that you were able to scowl at him even with the heat flaring up in your cheeks. “Well, there’s no way the food there will be as good as the one in Souvenir, so we have nothing to worry about.”

You resisted the urge to cross your arms, keeping your hands neatly folded in your lap as you turned away from him. But when he said nothing for a whole minute, you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek, only to be left with your jaw slack.

Victor was still facing forward, but the corners of his mouth seemed to be curling up despite the effort he was clearly putting into keeping them neutral, his tiny smile still managing to spill through the seams. It enraptured you, a willing captive to the sight of him so pleased, and you wondered if you could make it through this with your heart intact.

But then, you told yourself through your daze, any chef would be happy to receive such praise for their food.

[video]

hopefully, yours, episode 3, part 1: Introductions (Victor and Y/n)

450,569 views • Feb 8th, 2020

‎‎

JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers

‎‎

51,509 comments

‎‎

Jason P ✓

pinned comment

This is a special one guys ♡

‎

needwater 45 minutes ego

AM I HALLUCINATING OR IS VICTOR LI ACTUALLY ON A DATING SHOW?

view 50 replies

‎

somsom 23 minutes ago

omg it’s y/n! We rarely get to see her on TV. She’s so cute!!!!

‎

orangeismycolour 16 minutes ago

!!!! Victor and Y/n!!! Omg ever since I saw them attend the Loveland gala together last year, I knew there was something there!!

‎

tooktiktook 8 minutes ago

um. isn’t this kind of an odd combo?

cheribb 5 minutes ago

@tooktiktok I thought so too but they look pretty cute together. I mean…he totally blushed when he saw her! And his eyes went so soft!

tooktiktok 4 minutes ago

@cheribb Well, she seems sweet but I think he was just being nice.

By the time you were shuffled into a van and driven to the site of the fair, your nerves had mostly settled.

Of course, that may have had something to do with the pudding cup Victor had handed you once you were in your seats. Goldman had brought over a paper bag, with Victor plucking two cups from it like a magician with a hat. With that said, while it’s a trick you’ve seen many a time, it never fails to bring a sparkle to your eye.

With Arnold’s permission, you were more than happy to dig right in. Your makeup would have to be retouched once you got there even if you didn’t eat.

It was easy to relax in the steady familiarity of Victor’s presence. A dangerous notion, your unwavering faith in Victor, that dictated everything would be okay if he was there because he would either make it so, or you, with confidence half-drawn from him, would make sure of it yourself.

It was only once you were halfway through the treat, humming and wiggling in your joy, that you realized Victor hadn’t started on his. Rather, his eyes were fixed firmly on you, intent in observing your devouring of the pudding.

The next bite went down a little heavier as you turned to him.

“Is something wrong?” Your enthusiasm surely couldn’t have come as a surprise.

He hesitated, seemingly on the verge of saying something, before clearing his throat and looking out he the window at the slow-moving traffic.

“No. Just…eat slowly,” he muttered, refusing to look at you. You squint at him, at the pink creeping up the back of his neck, sucking on the spoon thoughtfully. “There’s no need to rush.”

“Sorry. I got a little too excited.” Your laugh is a little hollow, and you muffle it with another mouthful of the soft, sweet dessert, missing his quick glance back at you.

He sighed, sudden and a little ragged.

“No, I meant that you should take your time and savour it,” he told you, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “I can make it for you anytime, so there will be many more chances in the future.”

The next spoonful remained frozen by your mouth as you struggled to process his words. Warm fingers came to rest against the back of your hand, guiding it, and the spoon, to your lips. Your skin tingled, but what was more damning was the way he held your gaze as your lips parted, the metal spoon warm against your tongue as you tasted the sweet delicacy.

It felt all the more sweeter, however, because of the little smile dancing across Victor’s lips.

You were rescued from attempting to respond to that by the van slowing to a stop, with Jason and Homer climbing in before they got moving again. Homer would be the one following you around the fair, as they only needed to get a few takes of you indulging in various activities.

“We absolutely need one with the ferris wheel, of course. A little cliched, but still damn cute. Maybe we can fix a camera in the cabin…” Jason trailed off, turning to Homer for his input. “If you think it’ll be better without you there.”

‘How would it be better without Homer there?’ you wanted to protest. ‘I’ll screw it up if left to my own devices! Professional environment aside, that’s a little too romantic!’

Something prickled at the back of your neck, and you realized Victor seemed to be trying to get your attention, albeit in a very silent way you probably wouldn’t have caught on to if you hadn’t spent so much time studying him.

He said nothing even when you met his gaze, but a reassuring warmth calmed you all the same. I’ll be there, he seemed to say. Trust me.

You were worried about the romantic atmosphere getting to your head, but surely Victor, the ultimate voice of reason, wouldn’t let you get carried away?

“Okay, we won’t crowd you guys too much, but remember to avoid turning away from the camera!”

That had been the last thing Jason said to you both before he retreated to his place behind Homer, who was ready with the camera propped over his shoulder. Your mics were affixed to your clothes, and people were already beginning to shoot curious looks your way. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; many vloggers and people working for food channels could often be found in places like these, flitting about with their cameras out as they partook in the activities available.

While being around cameras was nothing new, it was a little strange to be on the other side of them. Nervousness weighing on your chest, you reminded yourself over and over: be natural, don’t act like a lovesick fool, don’t stare at Victor for too long. Turning to the man himself as Homer adjusted the camera settings, hoping to draw inspiration from his steadfast composure, you could only stare in confusion at the intent way in which he was staring at the entrance to the fair.

Following the trajectory of his gaze, you squinted, hoping to see what had caught his attention. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, with people milling about, the welcoming sign high above their heads bright and welcoming.

“Victor?”

“Hm?”

“Is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly, and he nodded, almost distracted.

“Are we ready?” he asked Homer, who gave him a thumbs up.

Jason grinned at you, winking in what he seemed to think was a discreet manner. “Have fun, you two.”

You couldn’t quite pretend there were no cameras, not with Homer keeping up with you as you began to walk through the entrance arch. Looking at Victor was easier, just to block out the awareness of your companions, of course.

Catching your nervous glances, he inclined his head towards you and made an abortive movement, hand rising and falling midway. His jaw clenched, and then he offered you his arm, elbow bent.

As your hand curled around his arm, you focused on your vibrant surroundings. A task made more difficult when, after a short pause, you felt him tuck his elbow into his side, the broad span of his shoulders relaxing when you tightened your grip.

“I’ve been meaning to come here for years, but never really got the chance to,” you told Victor, your voice still edged with nervousness. But Victor nodded at you again, the usual stern line of his mouth quirking up, and your mind stuttered, committing itself to memorizing the precious curve of his mouth.

“In that case I’m glad we got to come here together,” he told you, and it took a good deal of effort not to gape at him. “It’s a first for both of us.”

You nodded, stunned by this unforeseen acting prowess. Seemed like you’ve discovered another one of his many talents.

“Hopefully, it’s the first of many,” he added, a smug lilt to his voice, and this time, you did gape.

“Y-yeah,” you answered, face heating up as you turned away for the sake of your dignity. “Hopefully.”

bandanaman @headaccs

are we all seeing this?? he’s such a gentleman!! I was not expecting this man to be smooth. #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

@headaccs HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? He doesn’t even need words, one look and I would be on my knees. #HopefullyYours #VictorLi

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover calm yo thirsty ass down lmao

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

“the first of many” omg what does he mean???? #HopefullyYours

‎

freshasnow @crystalmoon

Yeah, I’m not really feeling this. I thought we were going to get Kai and Hollow this week? #HopefullyYours

‎

teatime ✓ @spillit

For those of you asking, yes, we knew Victor Li and Y/n were going to be on Hopefully, Yours. Don’t worry darlings, we’ll have some quality tea for you soon! #HopefullyYours

Spotting the first of the food vendors, you both headed over to it, peering at the fresh dumplings. The vendor straightened up at the sight of the camera, a benign smile spreading across his face when you asked him for permission to film, nodding and plating plump, steaming dumplings with the utmost grace.

Gordon, as he introduced himself, was more than happy to talk about his family business, their two restaurants in Loveland, while Homer took close-ups of the dumpling that Victor broke apart for a better look.

“My daughter comes here every year with me, insisting she can handle things by herself, but honestly, I just enjoy coming here,” he chortled, before fixing the two of you with a knowing look. “It’s a completely different atmosphere from the restaurant! And it’s always nice to see sweet young couples such as yourselves. Reminds me of my own fair dates with my wife…”

You couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Victor, who seemed content to chew on his snack. He caught your eyes, before his flickered over your head towards Homer and Jason. Inexplicably, his ears began to tint a deep crimson, as he swallowed with some effort and stepped closer to you.

It began to make sense when he lifted the other half of the dumpling to your lips, Gordon gasping an oh my! in the background, and even as your heart began to race, your eyes widening, you felt…bad. Jason had obviously asked him to do this, and you felt terrible about him having to embarrass himself like this. But he did it, and so you took a small bite of the dumpling, the juicy filling suddenly tasteless on your tongue.

And then there was a soft sensation on your chin, your eyes lifting to see Victor dabbing at your skin with a napkin, the little motion taking all his concentration until he stepped back with a satisfied glint in his eyes, which seemed to linger around your mouth.

When you were unable to do anything more than flush deeply and try to stammer out a thank you, Jason ended the shot.

The glint in Victor’s eyes didn’t fade, and something within you quivered.

raspberrydream @berryberry

he looks like he wants to eat HER #HopefullyYours

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry I CAN’T BREATHE. I thought he was going to kiss her LOL. And she looked so nervous and then he just wiped her chin THIS IS TOO SOFT I CANT #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

god I wish that were me #HopefullyYours

‎

only4food @bananabread

Okay I HAVE TO go to this place. I NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING. Who’s in??

‎

midnightmachine @musiclover

Gordon knows what’s up. We stan a hard-working man. #HopefullyYours

Things continued in much the same direction. With no signs of reluctance, Victor rolled up his sleeves and dived into the bustle of the fair. And with his hand curled around your wrist, you couldn’t bring yourself to doubt him. You’ve learned to read the signs of his displeasure, subtle and obvious, and they were nowhere to be found. He looked relaxed, trying out mini doughnuts, accompanying you to any shops you want to browse, frowning when you looked longingly at the ring toss.

“Let’s go,” he said, guiding you over to the booth. Well, you were supposed to try out the games too, but you hadn’t thought Victor would agree to play them. It seemed a little too childish for him.

“I haven’t come here in years either,” he told you when you looked at him curiously, the two of you standing in line with Homer right next to you. “I love my job, but I admit it takes up most of my time. I rarely have time to indulge like this.” He paused, as if wanting to say more, but his eyes flicked towards Homer and he ended it there.

While a part of you was startled in by his words, another softened at his truthful admission.

Victor seemed to have thought of something else, giving you a meaningful look. “But, of course, I always make time for the people in my life.”

You blinked, a little taken aback by sudden turn in direction.

“Even if they want to come to places like these, I don’t mind.” Victor seemed to be hinting heavily at something, and you smiled at that, almost excessively fond. Because it’s true that Victor makes time for the people in his life, especially his family. And even for you—he’s there for you, no matter how small the matter might be; huffing and puffing and going out of his way to help you.

Falling for someone like that, someone who effuses such stoic confidence and noble compassion in equal measure, it was all too easy.

“Then we’ll make sure to come again,” you told him, a wide grin blooming across your face at the thought. It was unlikely that it would actually happen, but it was nice to think about. You stepped up to the cashier, greeting him politely.

You finally got your turns after fifteen minutes, with Homer and Jason taking a quick snack break while you waited. You’d run a quick eye over the prizes available, quickly drawn to two pusheen cat plushies, a soft grey and a dark ebony. You didn’t think he’d judge you on camera, but would it really be okay to admit that’s what you want? The hair pin would be a more sophisticated pick, something more to his tastes.

Silently despairing over your proclivity for soft cute things, you turned to Victor for his choice.

Only to realize he seemed to have taken his jacket off while you were preoccupied and handed it over to Jason, his thin black t-shirt fitting him like a glove—and your words died a swift death at the back of your throat, shrivelling in the sudden dryness of your mouth. Silhouetted against the light of the late afternoon sun, his features seemed sharper, his gaze keener as he twirled the ring in his hands carefully.

As Homer began to roll the camera, and Victor prepared to toss the ring, you panicked with the realization that he didn’t ask you which prize you wanted like Jason had asked him to.

The ring landed around a bottle with a loud clink, and you hoped the surprise you felt wasn’t clear in your loud cheer. With the look he gave you, you knew he caught it even if others wouldn’t.

And then he handed you the dark pusheen plushy, which you took with trembling fingers and a sheepish smile. “Oh, thank you.” It was exquisitely soft to the touch. “This is the one I wanted.”

“Hm.”

“It looks like you.”

“What-” His head snapped toward you as you laughed, clutching the toy to your chest. Whatever outraged retort he’d been about to spit out was held back as he saw you hugging it contentedly, your eyes twinkling at him. “…I suppose.”

You handed him the toy, rolling your shoulders as you were given the ring. “Which one do you want?”

“I’m fine with anything,” he said, eyes locked on the grey pusheen plushy, the other half of the pair. So it was with a laugh, helpless in the face of his clear yet unspoken demand, that you tossed the ring. You got it on the second try, handing the toy to Victor with a triumphant grin, who took it primly and tucked it into his side.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t this too childish by your standards?” you teased, unable to help it, but he only smirked down at you, stealing your breath with devastating ease.

“It is. But childish is…nice, sometimes,” he admitted carefully.

Your mind helpfully supplied you with all the instances of him calling you childish. “Oh?”

He shrugged, elegant, one shoulder lifting as he looked back down at the toy, before looking back up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes. “It’s grown on me.”

Kiro ✓ @kiromusic

Wow! This seems like so much fun, I kinda wish I got to go there too! :D @miracley/n invite me next time!! #HopefullyYours

Savin @agents

@kiromusic You just want to eat junk. And...well, I guess we can make an exception for today.

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

Before I proceed to scream over the clip, I just wanted to let y’all know I did some digging and apparently, they are friends! They’ve been spotted together in public many times, including the Loveland Gala last year. You know what this means. #HopefullyYours

bandanaman @headaccs

THE PUSHEEN TOYS. They won each other toys!! Y/n’s right, that does look like him with the dark fur lmao. BUT. Look at Victor’s heart eyes!! And she looked so happy omg T_T

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs NO WONDER. It seems like they already like each other but it seemed too soon!! They’re so cute omg please date!! #HopefullyYours

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry With how they look at each other? I smell pining ;) I’ve compiled a list of all their public appearances. He even took her to Souvenir! How are they not dating????

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs DM ME!!!!

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs I feel like that’s a bit of a reach. They certainly seem comfortable with each other, but that could easily just be friendship, which is nice too. I feel like we should allow people to be friends instead of just shipping them.

‎

mintmadness @mintsallover

@hotsauce they’re on a dating show, though.

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover yeah but plenty of other ‘couples’ were just friends or went on to be good friends. I just think these two are comfortable with each other, which is probably a good thing because Victor doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who can have fun with just anyone, you know?

You ended up having a lot more fun than you thought you would. Victor was always great company, but you could tell he’d tried his best to relax for the show and you didn’t know how to thank him for it. The warm gratitude bubbled up at the base of your throat, your heart sinking deeper into the ocean of affection you already held for him.

He’s so kind. His aloof demeanour, his nagging, his precise instructions and advice were things you’ve come to appreciate. But beyond those lies a heart so caring, so considerate, it made you yearn so deeply, to find yourself a place in it. But Victor had come to treat you as a friend and you could never ruin that because of your own feelings. It was precious, his friendship, and you wanted to treat it as such.

The line you’d drawn with so much care seemed to be straining, however, ever since you found out you would be riding the ferris wheel together, without Homer.

“The people in charge told us if we could just wait until closing time, they could keep things going until we’re done shooting!” Jason had told you as he briefed everyone. A bunch of the crew had left after packing up, as this would be the last take for the day. “That way Homer can fix the lighting and equipment in the cabin and won’t need to join you two! Give you some privacy, yeah?”

‘For what,’ you’d screamed internally, nodding along with a smile on the outside.

Looking to Victor for his opinion had been futile, because he seemed to have withdrawn into his own head, looking up at the ferris wheel absently. You were supposed to shoot the individual parts, but with how late it had gotten, Jason had asked the two of you to drop by the studio the next day. Only, you had a free slot in the morning while Victor would only be able to make it sometime during the late afternoon.

So you wouldn’t get to see what Victor said about you. That was perfectly fine. Things had gone well, and Victor wasn’t the sort to badmouth someone anyway.

It was supposed to be his day off. And he gave it up to participate in a show that was, for all intents and purposes, pointless for him. You felt terrible, heart aching at the thought that once again you had made him waste his time.

How on earth did Jason even get him to agree to this?

“You’re thinking something ridiculous,” came a low voice, and Victor seemed to have come back from his mental journey.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, the guilt getting to you.

“For what?” He seemed genuinely baffled, and it made you feel worse.

“For this entire day. You just came for a visit and now it’s after 8 pm and your day off is gone and you rarely get free time…” your shameful rambling tapered off as the furrow between his brows appeared to grow deeper and deeper.

His response was interrupted by a staff member, who came to let you know the ride was ready for you two. Walking together in complete silence, you wondered what he was about to say.

“Do you regret it?”

You arrived at the ride, and Victor had stopped in front of the open door. “What?”

“Do you regret it?” he repeated patiently, holding his hand out to you. “This entire day. Our date.”

Our date.

It was silly, how him calling it a date, with no cameras in sight, seemed to affect you so deeply. It was ridiculous but it was so real, how your heart fluttered and hope unfurled in the garden where you’ve buried your affection.

“Because I’m not sorry,” he added when you failed to do anything other than flush horribly. There was a question in his gaze, one you didn’t know how to answer, so with a deep breath, you focused on the one he’d asked out loud.

“No,” you said softly, your hand coming to rest over his as he helped you into the cabin. “I don’t regret it.”

How could you, when he was everything you wanted?

You settled on the plastic bench, watching Homer fiddle with the settings and light, making sure the camera’s fixed in place, basking in the heat emanating from Victor.

“Alright, that should work. You guys ready?” he asked.

“Yeah!”

“Yes.”

Homer stepped back to let Jason poke his head through the door. “We’re all set guys. Just call us if there are any problems. Be yourselves, don’t worry about the take. And remember, make sure to make it as romantic as possible!”

As the door closed behind him, with the camera rolling, silence rose to take the place of the sounds now cut off, the rest of the world falling away as the ride began and you began to ascend.

Outside the window, the stars shone in a twinkling blanket across the night sky, and Victor’s arm pressed into yours. Meeting his eyes was difficult, astoundingly so after the entire day you spent together.

This close, it would be so easy to let the words tumble from your lips. You didn’t know what your eyes could give away right now, and you were just as afraid of the softness in his gaze.

It looked too real.

“I’m glad we finally got some peace,” he muttered, and just like that a bright laugh broke out through your fear.

“This was not your kind of place at all, was it?” you said, snickering at the look he threw your way, because it’s so easy to make him huff like that.

“It was…lively,” he said, glaring at you as you stifle your smile behind your hand. “Exactly the kind of place you enjoy.”

“That’s true.”

“Then that’s that.” He shifted a little, trying to face you, his knee knocking into yours. “As long as you had fun, we’ll come again.”

Despite your warnings, your heart skipped a beat.

You tried to laugh it off, changing the subject to your childhoods, swapping lighter stories and carefully avoiding the heartbreaks. Your hands moved somewhere in between, in the dim lights, and your fingers had found each other’s. Make it romantic, Jason had said. That was the only reason. You talked about work, about Miracle Finder, about his public projects, how your busy lives don’t give you the chance to find love.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Victor cut in, still looking at you in that quietly dangerous away, his gaze a heated cloak over your skin.

You stilled. “You wouldn’t?” There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped went unnoticed.

“I think, regardless of how busy we are, however reluctant…love finds us when it has to,” he said, his voice deep, unwavering, and you forgot how to breathe. Somehow, despite doing your best to avoid it, you had wound up on the proverbial cliff’s edge.

And it was time to take a leap.

“Victor...have you ever been in love?” you asked, part of you ready for his outrage, for him to brush it off with a roll of his eyes, and the other curling up in fear at the thought of the answer he might really give you.

He hummed, tightening his grip on your hand when you tried to tug it back, searching your face. His thumb swept over your knuckles, rubbing gently, and you wondered if he was preparing you for heartbreak.

“Yes. I have.”

Kiki @kikiki

@smilingwillow WHAT THE FUCK

‎

Anna @miracletv

@kikiki Language.

‎

Kiki @kikiki

‎@miracletv did you see the episode?? im going to collapse WHERE IS BOSS @miracley/n

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

DID HE JUST???? OH MY GOD @headaccs DID YOU SEE THIS? ARE YOU OKAY? #HopefullyYours

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

THIS MAD LAD ACTUALLY DID IT. @berryberry I will never recover from this #HopefullyYours

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs @berryberry He just said he’s been in love before. He didn’t say he’s in love with her lol

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce what will it take for you to finally see the light

‎

mintmadness @mintsallover

I could listen to this man talk all day. Y/n, you’re one lucky girl <3 #HopefullyYours

‎

cocoloco @chocolatedelite

I’m late to the party but lmao at everyone freaking out. Uhhh honestly I’m not sure. These things are usually scripted. They could just be faking it. #HopefullyYours

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@chocolatedelite Thank you!!!!

‎

victorshoe @mrsli

My heart is broken but their cuteness has mended it. I’ll give them my blessings. #HopefullyYours

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

oh thank god they just uploaded the individual bits!!! THANK YOU @jtv

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

...wait

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

‎‎omfg

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

????? IS THAT IT??? COME BACK @jtv that can't be it!!

Thank you for reading!

MC/You: it’s a fake date. chill.

Victor: Goldman I need NINE roses and an outfit that makes me look like a sex god I HAVE A DATE

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mr love queen's choice #mr love li zeyan #mlqc victor x reader #queue are my sunshine

379 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 4 years ago

Text

happy birthday @sloppy-butcher!

i adore both you and your writing and you deserve to have the absolute best birthday! it’s not much, but i tried my hand at a little hillbilly fluff drabble bc i know how much you love him <3 i hope it’s ok!

ship: hillbilly x gn reader warnings: very briefly mentioned child abuse word count: 1130

Hillbilly X reader: Birthday

It starts just like any other of your frequent visits to the realm of Coldwind farm.

You're sitting silently on top of the harvester together with Max, which isn’t at all unusual. Talking isn't necessary in situations like these, both of you happy to just be near each other and enjoy the closeness and companionship, watching the cornstalks swaying from an imaginary breeze.

But it doesn’t take you long to notice that something is wrong.

Instead of slowly relaxing in your company like usual, Max seems more stressed than you’ve seen him in a long time. He keeps fidgeting and glancing around, sometimes taking a deep breath like he's about to say something, only to deflate in defeat a few seconds later.

Safe to say, hiding his emotions has never been Max's strong suit. You always try to let him go at his own pace, but at the seventh disappointed sigh, you decide it's time to intervene.

“Max?” you break the peaceful silence to gently urge. “What's wrong?”

Your hand, as on its own, comes up to rest on his good shoulder, not wanting to irritate old injuries. The contact seems to make Max stop fretting at least momentarily, meeting your searching eyes.

“'M nervous,” Max confesses without hesitation, always so much more earnest than any other person you’ve met.

“It's okay. You can tell me,” you encourage, putting more pressure on your hand on his arm to remind him that you're there for him, after all the years he’s suffered alone.

Max takes another deep breath, but this time he's not giving up, instead turning around to grab something over the railing of the harvester. Before you have time to ask, he re-emerges with a crudely wrapped package in his hands and turns back to face you.

“Happybirthday!” he hurries to croak out, ducking his head in embarrassment while shoving the package towards you.

“Birthday?” you ask, confusion spreading through you. “But my birthday isn't even—”

You pause. ‘Isn't in several months’? How exactly would you know that? With no signs of the passing of time in this world, you can't exactly claim it's not your birthday, either.

Especially not with Max now looking at you with sad puppy eyes.

“Stupid, stupid—” Max starts, pulling the gift close to his chest and curling in on himself.

As if expecting a beating from his long-dead father.

“NO!” you yell, the force of it startling you both. “You're not stupid,” you hurry to add, gentle hands coming to rest on top of his callused ones clutching the gift.

“But you said…” Max starts, self-doubt replaced by curiosity, letting you carefully pry his fingers away from the package.

“I didn't know it was my birthday until you reminded me,” you explain, shooting him an encouraging smile. “Did you get me a gift? That's so kind of you.”

You bite back the ‘You really shouldn't have’, not inadvertently wanting to send Max into another panic, knowing he's still learning the nuances of the English language.

“It's not a real birthday without gifts,” Max explains bashfully, shoving the package into your hands.

The gift is lighter than you expected, gently grabbing the bundle with both hands while carefully inspecting the wrapping. It's some kind of cloth, not unlike the rags you've seen Max use to clean his chainsaw. The fabric is loosely held in place by thick rope and what you assume is supposed to be a bow on top, but looks more like a mess of knots, already starting to unravel on their own.

You can vividly imagine Max feebly trying to tie a pretty bow on the gift like he's seen in old movies, and the thought makes your heart swell from affection.

“Come on. Open it!” Max urges, face twisting into an expression you've come to recognize as a wide grin.

Max is glancing between you and the package like an overeager puppy, not seeming to be able to decide whether he wants to see your reaction or the gift being unwrapped. You can’t help but wonder if he's ever given a gift to anyone before.

…And then promptly feel a piece of your heart shatter once you realize he's probably never even received one from anyone before.

You only need to hook a finger under the rope for it to come apart. Letting the rope fall to the harvester floor, you slowly lift the cloth away to reveal a flower wreath.

“Oh!” you exclaim in surprise, carefully lifting the item up to inspect it.

The base is made from sticks, forming a thick and slightly uneven circle with stray ends poking out in all directions. But the top of the wreath is what really catches your eye, decorated with fresh flowers of several different kinds and colors.

Despite some of the flowers having already wilted and the majority missing a few petals, the wreath is probably the prettiest thing you've seen since coming to this strange realm.

“It's beautiful,” you say, looking up at Max who somehow smiles even brighter, thrilled that you enjoy his gift. “Did you make this?”

“Ya,” Max says eagerly, happy at the praise. “But some o' the flowers… they broke,” he adds hesitantly.

“It's perfect,” you reassure, knowing how gentle he must have been to not ruin the delicate plants altogether.

“And the flowers—where did you even get them?” you ask, carefully placing the crown on your head, not caring in the slightest that it’s a little too heavy and that a few of the sticks tickle your scalp unpleasantly.

“Clodet,” Max explains, still struggling with his delivery on some names, but getting his message across nonetheless.

Ah; you should have guessed. The botanist is a gentle soul, also one of the few survivors who didn't oppose your relationship with the killer.

“Thank you so much for the gift. It's beautiful,” you say earnestly, smiling up at Max.

“Y-yer…” he starts with a raspy voice, before pausing and clearing his throat. “You're more pretty.”

It's probably something he's heard in a cheesy black and white romance movie, but you don't care, cheeks heating up while your smile widens even further. A stupid giggle slips free from your lips before you can stop it, Max never failing to make you feel like a giddy, lovestruck teenager.

Even Max recognizes the laugh as one of affection and not mocking, returning a sappy smile and the tips of his ears going red. Emboldened by your reaction, he brings his hand to rest on top of yours in a rare display of confidence.

For a moment, you do nothing but stare at each other, each with a silly smile on your faces, enjoying the closeness.

And then, you remember something crucial.

“So…" you start with a mischievous smile. "When do you want to celebrate your birthday?”

#dbd fanfic #max thompson jr #dbd hillbilly #dbd hillbilly x reader #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #child abuse tw #dbd x reader

124 notes · View notes

i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate · 6 years ago

Note

How about "I love you and it scares the hell out of me!" for Nalu, or, if you want something maybe less serious/more fluffy, the blanket fort one?

I am so sorry, this is the sappiest thing I have EVER written. No, I take it back. No apologies. Take this–take this sappy fanfiction. Love it and also hate it for its sappiness. Drown in the fluff and the cheesiness.

Okay, I’m done.

Thanks for the request. I hope you like it! :)

Nalu: “I love you and it scares the hell out of me!”

When Lucy woke up it was pouring rainoutside her little tent. She watched the water pour off of tree branches andswirl into puddles before she shut the flap of her tent and collapsed back intoher sleeping pad, safe from the downpour. She let herself almost fall asleep tothe sound of rain thundering against the heavy fabric of the tent, when thenoise of the tent flap being flung open woke her up again. She struggled to situp, only to see Natsu stumbled into her tent, soaking wet.

“Natsu!” She choked, backing awayfrom him as best she could in her bedroll. “You’re dripping! What are you doing in here? You should have known just tostay in your tent.”

“I was hungry!” Natsu shrugged,quickly shutting the tent flap and stretching out his legs beside her, carefulnot to touch her sleeping pad with his wet pants and muddy shoes.

“You’re getting my tent soaking wet!”Lucy snapped, brushing her hair away from her eyes. It’s too late now. What’s done is done. But she couldn’t help beingfurious with him. “What are you doing in here anyways?”

“I tripped,” Natsu said, gesturingto his pants. There were tears in the legs at his knees, and blood was seepinginto the white fabric. “You have thefirst aid kit.”

Lucy glared at him, but turned tograb the little packet on the other side of her pillow. “I told you, you shouldpack your own first aid kit, idiot. What happens when I’m not with you on ajob?”

“Impossible,” Natsu huffed, rollingup his wet pants, “I can’t imagine going on a job without you.” Lucy dugaround in her kit for an antiseptic and something to clean the dirt off of hisknees.

“Where’s Happy?”

“Asleep in our tent.” And then theywere quiet, with nothing but the pounding of the rain on Lucy’s tent, as Lucygently cleaned and tended to Natsu’s skinned knees. His skin was warm to thetouch, despite being soaked. His hair was already drying, begin to fluff up toits normal volume. She could practically see steam waft up from his shoulders. Shecarefully covered up his wounds, and then paused, tracing an old scar with herfingertip, across his knee from under the bandage, and up his thigh.

“What’s this from?” Natsu laughed.

“When I was little. I got in a fightwith Laxus. I had hoped it would leave a lightning bolt shape. No such luck.Wanna see some more?”

He showed her the scars on his back,side, legs, the back of his neck. Each one had a story. He told her them, andshe listened—raptured.

“And I have this one,” He lifted hisshirt, showing her a faded scar at the bottom of his ribs. It was nearly gone.Lucy reached out hesitantly and traced her pinky down its path. She couldalmost feel his fire beneath her fingertip. He shivered at her touch, a brightred blush rising in his cheeks.

“What’s this one from?” Shewhispered.

“I don’t remember,” he replied, hisvoice hoarse. “It was when I was really little.” They were quiet, their eyesmet, and Natsu’s hand found hers. Their fingertips touched, and she noticed ascar on the tip of his pointer finger for the first time. She brushed her thumbacross it, and then entwined their fingers together—combining their warmth.

“What’s this one from?” she said,squeezing his hand, but they had both lost sense of what they were talkingabout. Somehow, with the pounding of the rain, and the pounding of their hearts,and the closeness of their skin, they both felt eternally more vulnerable thanthey had before.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Natsumurmured, his skin growing warmer to touch, steam still rising from hisclothes.

“Yes,” Lucy nodded. There was apregnant pause, as if he was still deciding what to say—or if he should say itat all. Then it burst out of him before he could stop it, like the breaking ofa damn:

“I love you, Lucy!” His hand was sotight in hers that she was sure circulation had been cut off from her fingers, “Ilove you and it scares the crap out of me.” Silence.And the rain.

She stared at him, still trying toswallow his words, still trying to calm the heavypounding of her heart. He loves me. Love.Do I even know what that means?

Within the deepest part of her heartshe knew, and she smiled—trying to assuage the fear that was written in hisdeep eyes. “I wake up every morning,” she said, “And I think of you. I thinkabout what you’re doing, what job we might take together. I think about your smile, what you’ll say to me. And youmake me so mad, because you’reinfuriating! You’re on my mind. You driveme crazy. But I’m not afraid.” She squeezed his hand, leaning closer. “I’mnot afraid because I know you. You’reNatsu Dragneel. My Natsu Dragneel, mydragon, my fire… You’re in my dreams, and in my every waking moment. And you…you shouldn’t be afraid. Because I’m yourLucy Heartfilia. And nothing inthis world is ever going to changethat.” She hesitated, unsure where all that had come from, and maybe she was alittle scared, because he was scared,and she had never said anything like this before. But the rain was a constantroar, drowning her fear—steadying her heartbeat. “That’s what love is.”

“What… what are you saying?” Natsunarrowed his eyes, confused, his grip on her hand lessened, and the fear in hiseyes was distant, but the fire in his cheeks never lightened.

“I’m saying I love you, you idiot,”Lucy laughed, “I think I always have.” Nothing but the rain was her response.He was frozen, his eyes searching her, as if trying to determine if she wastelling the truth, and the moment he was satisfied he surged forward and kissedher. She let the rain drown out the sound of her pounding heart, and lostherself in the kiss—lost herself in him. Heloves me… he loves me… he loves me…

Thanks for reading!

Buy me a coffee? :)

#nalu #ft #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu x lucy #lucy x natsu #myfic #request #iwritefanfictiontoprocrastinate

168 notes · View notes

goodnightkisseu · 6 years ago

Text

Byun Baekhyun - Ring

Genre: Fluff... all the fluff

Note: As promised, there will be two fics up today for Valentine’s Day! First up is an actual Valentine’s Day fic with Baekhyun! ^o^ Honestly I had a lot of fun with this one, and though it’s really sappy, I think the idea is really cute ;; I hope that it’s a fun read for everyone on Valentine’s Day and as always, feel free to let me know what you think! ^^ The second fic will be a wanna one fic that will be up much later tonight ><

Enjoy~

Because of the situation with tumblr links, please check my bio for links to my masterlist~

- goodnightkisseu’s admin / ashley <3

Baekhyun took a deep breath as he maneuvered his way up and down the aisles of the large market. He gently reciting the list of things that he needed to get, but as he went down the adjacent aisle, trying to remember exactly what the next item was, he couldn’t help but think that you were right. He should have written the list down, or better yet, let you text it to him. Yet he had been so adamant that he could do it on his own, that he could remember it all. Granted, he probably wouldn’t have been in this predicament if he hadn’t been spacing out earlier. Yet, Baekhyun couldn’t help it. Today was Valentine’s Day and he had a lot to plan, aside from the little party that he was helping you throw for Chanyeol. The other thing on his mind was drastically more important to him. Though Chanyeol was an important friend to him, someone that had been with him for many years, the thing that Baekhyun had on his mind was going to change his life drastically.

He was planning to propose to you.

Truthfully, Baekhyun thought about it almost every day for the last year or so. The two of you had been through your entire lives together. As kids, you grew up together, went to the same schools, and were in the same classes with each other. Baekhyun finally asked you out in your sophomore year of high school and it had been a little over ten years since the two of you became an official couple… and you were still going strong. Not just as a couple, but also as very good friends. As with any couple, there were difficulties, but you worked through them together, were honest with each other. Working through disagreements was what made your relationship stronger, and now that you were both in stable parts of your careers, Baekhyun’s want to marry you only grew. Sure, it was extremely cheesy to propose on Valentine’s Day, so many people did, but it felt fitting for the two of you. After all, nineteen years ago today, Baekhyun had joked that the two of you were married.

At the time, the two of you were still in primary school. On your usual route home after school together, Baekhyun complained about how he hadn’t received any chocolates that day. Conversely, Chanyeol, a longtime friend to both of you, had received a mountain of them, including chocolates from the girl that Baekhyun had been crushing on. As his friend you had tried to make him feel better, theorizing that there must have been a girl out there that liked him, but that she was just too shy to give him her gift. But, Baekhyun being a bit dramatic, didn’t believe you. He was sulking and downtrodden.

Seeing him like that upset you, so you told him to stop at the crosswalk. Her hands fumbled with your bag for a bit before you pulled out a box and handed it to him. It was a small red box, made of a clear type of plastic. Inside, Baekhyun could see the chocolates that you had been working so hard to make for the last couple of days. And just on top of it, was a little origami flower, its stem twisted into a circle as if it were a ring. Baekhyun later found out that you meant to give this gift to another boy, but that your heart hurt at how sad he looked, so you gave it to him instead. It didn’t matter though. You offered it to him, and at the time he had made a joke about it being your proposal to him, and that the two of you were now married. You humored him back then, but now that you were older, he planned to make that statement a reality. This year was the perfect time to do it… and it would have been simple if the two of you weren’t also planning a surprise party.

Most years, you had Valentine’s to yourselves, but this year… this year, an emergency party was planned. Chanyeol, who had been a friend to the both of you since you were kids, had been dumped. He had been pretty serious about that particular relationship and being left like he had, really took its toll on him. Being good friends, you didn’t want him to be alone on such a romantic holiday, so you had put your original plan on hold and pulled in some of your other friends to plan something for nice for him, to help him forget about how terrible that breakup had been. So it was no surprise that he was a bit scattered today. This party was the reason why Baekhyun was at the market right now and not at home planning his proposal to you.

A soft chime from his phone pulled Baekhyun from his thoughts just as he was wandering down the snack aisle. His lips curled into a smile when he realized that it was from you, and that smile only grew as he read your message.

‘I know you said that you could remember everything, and you know that I trust you… but to prevent us from having to make a last minute trip to the market again… here’s the list! Love you! ;3’

That message was immediately followed by the list of items he was supposed to pick up and he couldn’t help but chuckle. You really did know him best… and you were right. He probably would have forgotten something and you’d find yourself back here right before your friends were supposed to arrive at your apartment. He really was glad to have you as such a big part of his life. He’d honestly be lost without you.

Taking a moment, Baekhyun wrote a quick message back to thank you, though he also poked at you for not trusting him, in a joking way of course. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he quickly went up and down the aisles one more time, picking up the things that he had missed before heading towards the check-out counters. It all went smoothly, he even had a nice conversation with the older woman behind the counter, and in no time he was back at his car and heading home. Now it was time for the hardest part of his day. He had to figure out what he would say to you while helping you out and not making you suspicious of him. Ah, it was going to be a busy afternoon…

Baekhyun wasn’t wrong either. He had expected to see you busy when he got home, but he didn’t expect to see you running around the apartment, trying to get everything ready in such a quick fashion. He put things that needed to be refrigerated away before he told you that he would focus on the cleaning so that you could bring your attention back to the kitchen and make the desserts that you were so excited about. After all, knowing your friends, most of them wouldn’t remember to bring anything with them, and it was always up to the two of you to make sure that everyone was well-fed.

With all of your scrambling back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, there wasn’t too much left for Baekhyun to do. There were a couple of areas left to clean and just a quick vacuum of the entire place. The two of you had opted not to decorate the apartment, mostly because, well… you were trying to make Chanyeol forget that it was Valentine’s Day, not rub salt into an open wound. As he worked, he would frequently ask you for the time, just to make sure that you were both on schedule to finish up before everyone arrived. It didn’t take him long to finish his tasks, and in no time he was busily working in the kitchen with your, trying to assemble the rest of the food. The two of you just might finish up on time.

“Chanyeol is going to owe us big time. You’re putting so much effort into this…” Baekhyun stated as his fingers worked to nimbly assemble the sandwiches. Finger foods were best for this type of party, and while you had been moving around the kitchen, you got all of the ingredients set out for the sandwiches so it would be a quick process to put them together.

“Baek, don’t be like that. He’s been our friend for like an eternity. It’s not bad to do something nice for him,” you countered gently as you checked the heat on the stove to make sure that it would properly melt your chocolate.

“That’s fair… but you also planned his birthday party last year because his girlfriend told you that she didn’t have time to do it,” he reminded you. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do nice things for Chanyeol, I’m just saying – wait, you’re not dumping me for Chanyeol, are you?” He had meant it as a joke, of course, but with what he had been planning for later tonight, the thought crossed his mind out of nowhere. There was no way, but he still had to make sure.

Baekhyun had expected you to answer immediately, but instead, you paused. The sudden silence had him quickly turning to you and quirking his brow before you finally spoke again. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Baekhyun. But yes, I am leaving you for Chanyeol,” you replied, completely straight-faced and Baekhyun could only roll his eyes at you.

Whenever you did something like this, he knew you didn’t mean it. If you were actually serious… well, your whole approach would have been different. Jokes like that aren’t funny, you know…” he mumbled as he turned back to his sandwiches.

You giggled softly to yourself before moving to his side, slipping your arms around his waist. “Oh come on, you know that I’m just joking. I’d never leave you after ten years to be with Chaneyol. If I wanted to, I would have done so already, and I wouldn’t because he’s never been my type,” you reasoned, your lips forming into a small pout as you spoke. You did your best to bat your eyelashes in a way that would make Baekhyun divert his attention to you. This tactic would have been more effective if Baekhyun didn’t already know all of your little tricks. But every now and then, like this moment, it still worked pretty well.

He let out a gentle sigh. “I know, but still. I just don’t want you to take so much on yourself. I know work has been busy for you too. I don’t want to get a call that you collapsed from exhaustion or something...” he explained, lips gently placing a kiss on your forehead.

A small smile crept onto your lips at his gesture. He always worried for you, and you were honestly glad. You weren’t the best at taking care of yourself, so it was nice to have Baekhyun there to tell you to take a break every now and then. “I know you worry, but it’s fine. After all, I have the best battery to keep me functioning. You!” you exclaimed, your words oozing with grease as you leaned up to pepper your boyfriend’s face in kisses.

A chuckle left his lips at the onslaught of kisses. “Okay, okay, I believe you. Now, go check on the chocolate,” he reminded you, another chuckle leaving his lips as he watched your eyes widened as you quickly ran back to the stove and worked on the task at hand.

The two of you worked side by side for a few more hours before everything was done. Baekhyun helped you set out the things that didn’t need to be refrigerated before the two of you went to get ready. He urged you to shower first, taking the time apart to recite to himself all of the things he wanted to say to you. He wanted it to be memorable, for it to resonate with you and he continued saying those words to himself all the way into the shower.

As expected of your friends, no one actually arrived on time. As per usual, the earliest ones arrived about thirty minutes late and this was nice for both you and Baekhyun. It gave the two of you a moment to relax, to get yourselves in the mindset to host a party. Once everything was in full swing, it was your usual get together. There was drinking, probably a little too much on Chanyeol’s end, to the point where you had to stop him from time to time, reminding him to take a break. It gave everyone a chance to catch up, to find out where everyone was in their lives while enjoying the company, even if it was a bit rowdy every now and then.

You were deep in a conversation with Jongdae about his recent business venture, the male being the only one out of your group of friends that decided he would try being his own boss, to try and run his own company. At first, the mellow mood of the apartment was great, it allowed you to focus on what your friend was saying, but that was also when you realized it was weird. After that thought crossed your mind, it didn’t take you long to realize that your boyfriend wasn’t in the room. After all, if he were, he would have been advising Chanyeol on how to get over his breakup. His voice would have been booming about how that girl wasn’t good enough for him and that he should go and do something ridiculous to forget about her. But there was none of that, and you couldn’t help but wonder where your significant other had wandered off to.

By chance, Junmyeon had started to ask Jongdae about some other things in his life, and you took the opportunity to slip away, eyes scanning your small apartment for your boyfriend. Chanyeol was on the couch with some of your other friends, doing shots. Kyungsoo was chatting with his girlfriend. So just where was Baekhyun? It took you a bit to realize that he wasn’t mingling in the apartment and was instead on your tiny balcony that overlooked the neighborhood where you had all grown up.

“Baekhyun, what are you doing out here? I thought you would be inside giving Chanyeol terrible advice as per usual after every breakup,” you teased with a gentle giggle as you approached him. Your hand gently grasped his forearm to get his attention, but Baekhyun turned around a lot quicker than you had expected, and you almost jumped back at his reaction. “Sorry, did I startle you?” you asked, a bit concerned. He wasn’t usually like this, so he must have been in deep thought, though, over what you weren’t sure…

Baekhyun let out a gentle sigh and his body visibly relaxed when he saw you. “A bit,” he admitted, “but I was also kind of lost in my thoughts, so that was on me…” Gently, he held your hand in his, finger intertwining as the two of you turned to look out at the people below you.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Is it work related?” you asked softly, your hand giving his hand a light squeeze, reassuring him that you were there if he needed you. This was one of those things that always amazed him about you and your presence. You always knew the right thing to do at the right time. Baekhyun never had to say or do much to let you know that he was struggling with something. You just always knew how to help him, how to make him feel better. Once, a few years ago, he had asked how you were able to read him so easily, yet all you did was shrug. “I don’t know if it’s that. Just being with you, it comes naturally,” he remembered you saying. And though things with you never came as naturally for him, at least, he didn’t feel like they did, this moment felt right.

This moment was it.

“It’s not work-related at all. It’s something a bit different,” Baekhyun said slowly as he turned to face you. He could see the confusion on your features but tried to ease them by grasping both of your hands in his. “Do you remember that Valentine’s Day when we were younger? That year I got really upset because I didn’t get any chocolates from the girls and Chanyeol got a ton of them?”

A soft chuckle left your lips. “The year I gave you the chocolates that were intended for Minho, right? That time when you joked that we were married?”

A smile formed on his features and he nodded. “Yes. I mean, first things first, I’m better than Minho, right?”

“I mean…” you started slowly, but seeing the way that Baekhyun was looking at you, that he was seeking your approval before continuing, you knew that you shouldn’t be joking around this time. “Of course you are. I chose to date you, didn’t I?”

“And even after being together for ten years you haven’t dumped my sorry ass. It’s really a miracle,” he retorted. His response came out jokingly, but he knew that you knew he was being serious. Baekhyun wasn’t always the best at expressing himself seriously, but he knew that you were able to tell the difference, even if it was hidden behind a joke. He watched as your eyes shifted around, trying to read his expression, trying to pinpoint where he was going with this, and it urged him to continue. “We’ve been by each other through a lot of things. Many of these things were good, but some of it was difficult too. Like starting up our careers in different cities. These things weren’t easy. We struggled a lot, and I know that there were times that were harder than others, where I made things more difficult than they should have been. But we worked through all of that. We made our way back to this place where it all started. We never once questioned the decisions we made and it led us here.”

You nodded. If Baekhyun wasn’t being so serious, you probably would have made a joke, but you didn’t want to ruin his for him. You wanted to know where this was coming from, why his demeanor had changed so much. You didn’t see it often with Baekhyun, so it must have been something big.

“I know that I’m not known for being the most understanding person, mostly for those that I’m not close to. But with you, I’ve always tried to be. It’s because you make me happy, and I wanted to understand. You were always able to read me, ever since we were kids, but that wasn’t something that came naturally to me. When I realized how much I loved you, I realized that I wanted to be that person for you too. I wanted to be that person you could depend on. I wanted to be that person that knew exactly what was wrong before you said anything. Someone that you didn’t have to explain yourself to. Someone that could take care of you. Someone that you could have a family with. I wasn’t that person nineteen years ago. I wasn’t even that person a year ago, but now, with where we are…I think I could be that person now.”

Gingerly, Baekhyun slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a thin silver band. He had gone back to the jewelers many times, questioning his choice in something so simple. But every time, the jeweler would ask him the same question. “Is this the one that speaks to you?” the man would ask every single time, and every single time, Baekhyun answered that it was. And right now, as he was standing in front of you, it definitely felt like the right ring. He just… knew it.

His eyes looked up from the ring and at your features. Your eyes were wide and you breathing had stopped momentarily, he figured, out of shock. Gently, he grasped your hand in his and slid the thin band onto your ring finger before holding that hand in both of his. “I really want to be that person for you, for as long as I can,” he told you honestly. “I know that it’s pretty lame to be proposing on Valentine’s Day, so many people do it. But for us, it feels right. After all, you made the first move all those years ago.”

“I meant it when I said we were married back then, and I’d like to mean it in the future too…”

Of all of the things that you thought Baekhyun had been struggling with, this was not one of them. For a couple of years, you had been hoping that he would eventually pop the question. For a bit, when all of your friends were getting engaged, you had thought about dropping some hints, but you also wanted him to take his time. It became apparent to you that it wasn’t necessary for it to happen immediately and that the two of you could get there when you needed to. You just didn’t expect that moment to be now.

You were still in so much shock, dealing with so many emotions that you didn’t quite know what to say. You wanted to say something elegant, something sweet, but you couldn’t find the words. Your eyes were still taking in the silver ring that now rested perfectly on your ring finger, the small diamonds forming the shape of a flower.

Everything about this was perfect. And that was when you realized that you didn’t need to say anything grand. No words would ever be able to live up to how you felt in your heart. Instead, you threw yourself into his arms.

On that Valentine’s Day, on the small patio that overlooked the neighborhood where the two of you grew up, you made good on that promise that was almost two decades in the making…

#baekhyun #exo #byun baekhyun #exo scenarios #baekhyun fluff #exo imagines #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun imagines #exo fluff #kpop scenarios

240 notes · View notes

ezilyamuzed · 6 years ago

Text

Everyone Needs a Sam - Chapter 3

Series Masterlist

Summary: Two Sam’s in the Winchester family is better than one.

Word count: 3491

Warnings: Language. Fluff. Mentions of Menstruation (you know because some people get grossed out)

A/N: Writing from Dean’s POV. It gets a little interesting and the fun has just began since this is my comedy fic, although I can’t help but to add some fluff.

As always comments and feedback are welcomed (GIVE ME LOVE). Any errors are completely my own because I am human. If you want a tag in this or anything pop into the ASK box. Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Dean’s POV

Dean stumbled into the Bunker later than usual that night. While justifying his actions earlier as protecting Samantha from the dangers of a one night stand with a random guy, what he was doing was actually for selfish reasons. Sam, the girl they had saved and well, sort of adopted into the family. She was unlike most of the female hunters he had ever met. While she was not afraid of putting herself into the job and taking down anything that stood in her way there was a light in her. She was able to be daring, compassionate, understanding, while also full of sarcasm and laughter. Dean often admired how she always was able to just be herself, even when she had to pretend to be someone else for the job. It seemed like nothing ever got to her.

He had gone the last couple months seeing her flirt with any guy that dared to approach her, only stepping in when he felt that she needed protection. She never need protection though, hell she even scared him when she was mad enough. He had seen the rage in her eyes in the midst of decapitating something, often brushing it off with a satisfied smile afterwards. The blood and guts didn’t faze her, it was just another day at the office for her.

The revelation of his attraction didn’t come quickly during their time spent together, but soon after about 6 weeks he realized what he was feeling was actually jealousy when he watched her leave with other guys instead of him. He wanted to be the one her shinning eyes sparkled at as she whispered sweet nothings mixed with dirty promises into their ears. This was new territory for him, and honestly it scared him shitless. She was just like one of the guys. He could burp in front of her usually with her outdoing his in return, check out other girls while she gave insight on who was probably ready to go, have arguments over stupid television shows, talk about his latest conquests with laughter, and she actually listened to him when he was having a bad day. She was just…perfect. Not the type of normal girl you would picture bringing home to mom, but that was never what he wanted. Of course he could never actually say, “I love you Sam” without his brother or even her making a joke out of it. Although she didn’t like it, he liked the way the name Samantha sounded in his head. Probably a kink from watching Bewitched too many times as a kid, but nonetheless to him she was his Samantha. She would kill him though if he ever called her that. Red had become her name when spoken out loud, for he was the huntsman that would save her from any of the big bad that to dared touch her.

He decided to test out the water during that night of watching her favorite movie. The damn Princess Bride. In the short amount of time he had known her, they had already hit lucky #7 in times of watching it together. When she thought it was all a joke of him confessing his feelings, Dean decided to go with it, protecting the little bit of his pride he still had after putting himself out there. Her face was so beautiful as she laughed with little tear drops moving out of the corner of her eyes while he continued tickling until she said it. He wanted to hear those words from her mouth, even if she didn’t mean it. Watching those shinning eyes looking back at him as she tried to slow her breath when he finally stopped torturing her with his touch, he couldn’t help himself but to taste her lips. He was careful not to be too aggressive, and just see how she responded with the little touch of his lips, barely hitting hers. Her face widening in shock at his action gave him all the answers he needed. She just didn’t feel the same making him quickly run out while he still had some dignity left.

Every time that Sammy wasn’t around with them, he just didn’t know what to say to her anymore. He wanted to grab her by the waist and kiss her passionately like they do in all the sappy movies she made him watch, that he secretly grew to love. He wanted to give her the same cheesy speeches about how he didn’t know what love was until he met her, but she would just laugh. Hell, she would probably just leave. That thought brought ache to his heart even more than never telling her. Now that she was here, he never wanted to let her go even if it meant that she would never be fully his.

Walking drunkenly towards her bedroom now, Dean had built up enough liquid courage to finally tell her. Her blow up at the bar made him terrified that this was it, she was going to leave for good. As he approached her door he could see the light was still on, but no noises were heard on the other side. He slowly pushed it open, revealing the two Sam’s laying asleep. She was nestling herself into his brothers chest, while his arm was wrapped around her. They looked peaceful, hell they looked like they were meant for each other.

“Well this is interesting,” Dean grumbled while rubbing his hands over the scruff on his face.

He noticed the empty decanter laying on the floor, moving towards it to pick it up. It was filled before he had left, but he guessed they had probably enjoyed it before finding themselves in each other’s arms. Dean felt sick to his stomach as he moved to click off the light by her head. Seeing her with anyone else was hard enough, he could always find a good reason to cover why he hated them, but Sam? He could never hate him. She started to stir as Dean turned off the light, nuzzling herself more into Sam as she moaned silently. A whisper of a name escaping her lips. “Dean.”

He turned to look at her still sleeping face and smiled. “Well that is interesting.”

The next morning Dean woke up and followed the intoxicating smell that lingered from the kitchen. Bacon. He saw her standing there in those damn little shorts with an oversized t-shirt dancing around to ‘Crazy Train’ on the radio with her hair thrown up in a messy bun. His favorite sight of her, when she was truly herself and didn’t know anyone is watching. He walked up behind her as she scooped up the bacon from the frying pan onto a plate on the counter. He grabbed her waist with his right hand while reaching to the plate to grab some off the plate with his left.

“You touch that and I will cut off your God damn hand,” she growled.

“Whoa! Somebody is in a mood,” he said while defensively holding his hands up in the air. She didn’t even bother to turn around to him, but grabbed the plate and moved past him without a blink towards the kitchen table.

Sam walked in while rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his hair in a tangled mess all over his head. Dean snickered to himself as he watched his brother sit down at the table, sitting next to her. Sam yawned while running his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it out as Samantha quietly ate the bacon she had prepared while playing on her laptop. She was probably trying to find a case. Dean took in the sight as he watched them from the other side of the room while pouring himself a cup of coffee. His two Sam’s, both giant pains in the asses that he loved and would do anything for.

“So how was your sleepover?” Dean smirked while taking a sip of the hot liquid from his cup.

The trademarked “Sam-bitch-face” displayed on both of them, making Dean see that they were not amused. Stiffening their facial features, grinding their teeth while their eyes pointed at him like little daggers. Sam shook his head as if telling his brother not to bring it up, while she rolled her eyes and went back to the screen in front of her.

“Okay then…” Dean said while moving to sit alongside the table with them. “Any cases come up yet? I’m dying here. Again.”

Samantha let out a low chuckle while typing away feverishly on her the keyboard. Sam yawned and said something about going for a jog, leaving Dean to be alone with the definitely still mad Samantha. If his brother had said anything other than ‘jog’, Dean would have ran away with him. Sitting in awkward silence together, with the only noise coming from her keyboard Dean finally decided it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“Look, Sam, I am sorry for last night. That guy just didn’t look right.”

“None of the guys ever look right Dean,” she huffed while pushing down the screen of her laptop closed. “I think I found a case.”

“Oh really? What…”

“When Sam gets back I’ll show you,” she said while jumping out of her seat and heading out the room in a hurry.

“Well okay then,” Dean shrugged. Whatever the hell was going on with her, he sure as hell was not going to push it.

Samantha had locked herself in her room for the better part of the morning while Sam was on his jog. Dean felt restless and useless waiting on them. He had gotten so used to the way they all worked together and just hung out that being alone was just…weird anymore. Trying to find something to do he gathered up all of his dirty clothes to clean them in the washer/dryer combo Samantha said that they needed. Apparently girls have to do laundry more than twice a month. As he tossed in his clothes he noticed a pile of hers sitting on the floor. Her favorite band t-shirt, a couple of pairs of jeans and some undergarments that Dean tried to not think about too much. He tossed them in and started the washer up, feeling somewhat accomplished that he could do something nice for her even though he had acted like a complete dick.

He heard his brother call out to him saying that he was finally back. About damn time. Dean walked into the war room to see that both Sam’s were already huddled in front of the dimly lit computer screen going over something that might be the ticket out of their boredom.

“So get this..,” Samantha announced, making Dean chuckle to himself at how she sounded exactly like his brother. “Town has 9 missing people’s reports in the last two weeks, but that’s not it some of the town’s officials and more popular figures seemed to have changed personalities. Like this guy, Baptist minister who last month held an anti-homosexual life campaign is now in trying to establish a pride parade.”

“Maybe he was in denial,” Dean spoke up. He gave a little shrug as Samantha scoffed at him.

“There are more on here that are crazy. A doctor whom worked at a women’s clinic was apprehended before setting off a homemade bomb in the office.”

“Sounds maybe like demons,” Sam said while looking over at her. “Where is this at?”

“Not too far from here,” she replied. “Just over the state line in Nebraska.”

“Um, I’m going to call Cas and see if he has heard anything about it,” Dean said while pulling out his phone.

“I’ve got to do some laundry,” Sam said while getting up from the table.

“Hey dude, throw my stuff in the dryer will ya?” Dean yelled out while walking and dialing Cas’s number.

Sam, Dean, and Cas were all going over everything that Samantha had found on the case, creating the best plan of action since none of the people really had any connection to each other. It was going to take acting skills and charm to find out more once they got there. Dean had already cracked open beer number 3 by the time he heard her roaring in.

“Who did it?” Samantha barked while stomping into the room holding a metal wire in her hand and one of Dean’s shirts all balled up in the other. She slammed them both on the table, red faced mad over something that did not make a lick of sense to any of them. “Who stuck my bra in the dryer?”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other nervously. Sam might have been the one to put it in the dryer, but Dean was the one who had put it in the clothes in the first place. Cas of course sitting between them furrowing his eyebrows at Samantha questioning why it mattered in his head. She grinded her teeth more as she shifted her eyes between them.

“Leave my stuff alone!” She yelled while throwing the shirt with a now noticeable intertwined bra wrapped around it. Lady clothes washing rules were definitely not something they were taught in school.

“Listen Red…,” Dean started to speak up but his brother interrupted him.

“It just got mixed up in the laundry somehow. We will replace it,” he smiled.

“You better replace it,” she sneered while walking away to her room, her heels clicking louder than usual on the hard floor.

Dean gave his brother a nod in relief, thanking him. He had just covered his ass big time. Samantha had now went from grumpy to a ticking time bomb, that none of them wanted to set off.

“Is a bra an important thing that Sam needs?” Cas asked with puzzlement.

Dean chuckled while looking at his brother. “Yeah, Sam. Is it important?”

“Shut up Dean,” he retorted. “You are the one that has to go replace it.”

“Yeah, okay. What do I just do? Walk into Victoria’s secret and… yup, never mind I’ll go,” Dean said with a wink while a devilish smile raised on his lips.

Cas was always good for a laugh when it came to Samantha. He often became perplexed in the social norms of females, which led to a lot of entertaining questions. He was now holding the wire and bra in his hands while studying them.

“I do not see how the usefulness of this.”

“It’s to hold in and up boobs Cas,” Dean said while finishing off his beer, ready for another before he had to venture into a shopping mall.

“It seems more like a torture device for Sam’s breasts,” Cas said while now bending the wire back and forth in his hands with his eyes squinting at it, making Dean chuckle towards his brother. Cas made it too easy. “What is Victoria’s secret?”

“The world will never know Cas,” Dean laughed while taking another sip. “Has Sam seemed, off to you guys?”

“Maybe a little,” his brother shrugged, not wanting to divulge any of the things she had spilled out about the night before.

“Not a little man, I mean she is like ready to rip someone’s head off. I don’t know if she should be going out there.”

Just as Dean finished his words she walked back in behind him, now angrier than ever. The wide-eyed stare from his brother told him to turn around, but he so desperately did not want to since her glare was already burning into the back of his head. She had that same look in her eyes like right before a kill. Dean opened his mouth while helplessly looking at the others.

“You don’t think I can do the damn job?” she screamed with her face turning as red as blood.

“Sam, it’s not that…” his brother started to reply.

“I’m just the poor pathetic little girl that the big bad boys have to watch over,” she growled. “You know what, you can all just bite me!”

Cas moved to stand in front of her now, furrowing his eyes to her face as if he was looking for something. He turned to Dean and Sam, whom were petrified of her next action. Dean grabbed the remaining of his beer from the table, hoping that she wouldn’t use it bash his head in. He took a long swallow as Cas spoke up.

“I do believe that Sam is in the process of menstruating,” Cas confirmed assertively.

His words made Dean choke on the liquid as he tried to swallow it all down. His brother sat there holding back a laugh at Dean’s reaction, not wanting to be the target of her fury. Dean couldn’t help himself from but to smile at his brother while wagging his eyebrows.

“Sammy, I didn’t know it was your time.”

Samantha threw her middle finger up at them and stomped out of the room again, slamming her door hard enough that the echo knocked over some books off their spots on the shelves. The three men all shifting glances back and forth to each other.

“Well I guess that explains it,” Sam said while moving himself to replace the fallen books.

“Why is this the first time she is acting like…like that though,” Dean quietly asked, while looking over his shoulder to ensure that she was not coming from behind him again.

“I don’t know Dean. I mean, usually about this time we are in the middle of a hunt fighting and killing something,” Sam shrugged. “She does push to take lead some of the time.”

“So because we don’t have a monster to gank she is after us?”

“Well it is mostly you,” Sam snickered to himself. “But come on Dean, it can’t be easy for a girl to spend all of her time with us guys, even for Sam.”

Dean stood silently, processing what his brother had said. Things seemed so easy between them all. Was she just pretending with them? Living with Lisa had given him some clue to what goes on, but she was not like Samantha. She had her own traditions that Dean would just step away from which included ice cream and crying about the simplest things. An idea formed into his head as he grabbed his keys to go on a supply run.

“I’ve got something I have to do,” Dean said while running up the bunker stairs. “And find a calendar to start marking this shit down!”

After almost 4 hours later, Dean stood at her closed door nervous with various bags in his hands. After taking in a deep breath for courage on what he might face on the other side of the door, he had managed to knock twice. She opened to door, giving him a confused look.

“What do you want?” she snarled.

Dean held up his hands to show her the bags. She rolled her eyes and sat down on her bed, grabbing a book she must have been reading. Dean hesitantly stepped in and sat the bags down.

“I, ah…got you somethings,” he mumbled. “First here is your replacement. I hope I got the right size.”

She looked up and saw him holding the pink bag filled with tissue paper. She let out a chuckle and grabbed it, nodding in approval after unwrapping it.

“I also got you some other things,” Dean said while shifting through the rest of the bags. He pulled out a variety pack of tampons, two giant Hershey bars, a box of Advil, and her favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s before he pulled out a small bouquet of daisies, remembering once that she said they were her favorite.

“I’m not dying you know,” she huffed while taking the items from him and putting them down on her dressers. “Thank you though, Dean. It actually means a lot. I’m sure buying some of this wasn’t exactly comfortable for you.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “I’m a renaissance man.”

Her eyes squinted with her eyebrows pushing together while she let out a full body laugh. God it felt good to Dean to hear that noise again. His anxiety ridden and awkward adventures at the stores had definitely paid off.

“I also thought maybe we could just, I don’t know hang out and watch a movie,” he said while pulling a DVD out.

“Did you really buy ‘The Notebook’?” she laughed again after reading the cover. “Dean, really that’s not necessary.”

“Just put it on before I change my mind,” he growled with a grin.

She grabbed it from him and put it in the player before moving back to her bed. Dean pulled out two spoons that he had grabbed from the kitchen earlier and sat down next to her with the Ben & Jerry’s in his hand. This was exactly where he wanted to be in the world, next to his Samantha.

Tags: @curly-haired-disaster @snffbeebee

#everyone needs a sam #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #dean x sam x reader #supernatural #spn fanfic #fanfic

27 notes · View notes

venusparker · 7 years ago

Text

billet-doux↬ p.p

prompt: peter was never quite good at saying words, so he doubts he’s any better at writing them.

warnings: prepare for the fluff and cuteness overload. i’m in that kind of mood. also super long btw. (and i did not reread this that well so if there’s typos i’m sorry)

notes: hope you all like this because i’ve been thinking of writing a more peter centric, less reader type of fic. also i’ve been wanting to write a lovey dovey one. i’m thinking of writing some more ned leeds stuff as well so if you guys have any ideas, just send them in!

Billet-doux.

The words repeated in Peter Parker’s head like an echo, his focus varying between the miscellaneous thoughts in his head and the piece of crumpled notebook paper on his desk. The paper was free of lettering, but covered with ink stains and crinkles from the sweat he has mustered up the minute he got the idiotic idea in the first place. A billet-doux—what was he thinking writing you a love letter? Really, he wasn’t sure. The particles of dust in the sun floated down as he stared hopelessly and aimlessly in front of him, eyes almost pitiful. Peter had never been a good writer, nor did he think he could sum up how much he cared about you on only a single mere sheet of paper, a paper whose college-ruled lines were incapable of capturing all the love a boy his age could feel about someone as breathtaking and as quiescent as you. A fool he was, frankly, thinking that just because he had heard the words in class, or that because the one time he would decide to do something even slightly out of spontaneity, it would work out seemingly.

Then again, this is the constant cycle, the same speech he tells himself everyday–or at least nearly, practically, overwhelmingly everyday–before he once again strings together the words and expressions and phrases that could even come close to describing the levels of anxiety and longing you filled him with. In his head, it was romantic and everything you ever wanted, with no awkward pauses in between paragraphs with commas in places where commas didn't belong and crossed out adjectives that sounded more as though they were written by someone who was five, not fifteen. In reality, when he'd reread everything, he was a sappy writer. Sappier than he wanted to be; but he couldn't help it. He really wasn't all that good with saying the words he wanted, so he doubted he was any better at writing them. Eventually, the paper––another one of many––would become a filled up, scribbled upon letter, with his messy, scrawled handwriting curving his y's and making it possible to see a slur within his s's. And, just as eventually, he'd stash the letter away in the same place he stashed all the other ones, and it wasn't that shocking to know that they were in an old folder that he once used for AP US History when he had been more focused on school and less on superhero-ing.

It wouldn't be surprising to know that he doesn't keep the letter that far from his suit.

Today, the letter had been longer than the others. Most of them had started out the same way, reminiscing how adorable you looked, or how hilarious he finds your quick wit and clever comebacks towards Michelle whenever you two went at it in class. He would know, considering he was sitting next to you for all of it, everyday, ever since he started high school. But today, he truly went all out. One of his tawny eyes closed in concentration, mouth pursed, head tilting slightly while reading it all over, and wondering, wondering, wondering: why couldn't he just say this all to you out loud?

He thinks it's just because it's easier for him to script all these emotions down and never show them, or at least have the guarantee of his voice not being shaky or breaking, than to have the rejection from you. Aunt May had found them once, much to the red-faced and flustered Peter's dismay, when she was cleaning his room after the umpteenth he said he'd clean it but didn't. She had reached under his bed to grab old and dirty laundry, when instead her hand had found the letters, and after that Peter had moved them and made a reminder to lock his door. That still didn’t stop May from bringing up every chance she got.

“You should show them to [Y/N]!” She had advised once before, preparing some cauliflower in a stove pot. He only responded with a curt sigh and a shrug.

He didn’t think he’d ever show them to you. Especially not this one, the one that truthfully portrayed what he thought about you and how much he liked you, how much he wanted to spend most of his time with you.

––It’s day three hundred and seventy-eight since I’ve been best friends with you. Is it weird that I counted? It probably is, but you know me and I know you. So, I know that you know how weird I already tend to be. Besides the point—what I wanted to say was that, today had to be the most mesmerized I have ever been with you. Is that cliché? I know it is. But even though you always say you hate cliches, deep down you love them, because who doesn’t love clichés?

He wants to cringe at his own words, but instead he finds his lips curling into a grin, a grin holding back the burst of happiness that exploads within him at the mere mention of you.

[Y/N]...you’re, well, awesome everything to me such a great person, honestly. This is the sixth love letter I’ve written which is so dorky. I’m supposed to be a badass, remember? I’m Spider-Man! And incredibly cute. Why am I writing a love letter? Why have I written six of them? Because to be fair, I’m scared of you. You’re scary and intimidating, even though you don’t think you are. But what I want to say is, I’ve loved you every minute of every day or every month I’ve known you. It’s like no matter how hard I try to get you out of my head It’s no good.

Do you have any idea how much I wanna grab your face and kiss you on the goddamned mouth? With consent, of course. I’d always ask first. But you know that. I know I do. I do, I do, I do. I want to do everything with you. I want to visit bookshops with you—

He stops reading the letter and closes his eyes for a moment, only to open them a moment later when he receives a call from you. The ringtone is different because you asked him to change it, considerably because yodeling was never a good choice for a ringtone anyway, and you never understood why he was the way he was. His eyes flicker to the last line of the letter before answering your call.

I want to wish I could tell you this in person.

Peter enjoys writing about you, if he’s being honest with himself. It’s easier than drawing, which is the route most people takes, including Michelle. Sometimes, if Michelle is feeling less cynical than usual, she’ll give him a peak of a sketch of whichever boy or girl or whoever she liked that present week. The detail encapsulated with each line of lead interested Peter, but he wasn’t good at drawing pictures. He was good at taking them. But he already has quite a few of you, and they’re all hung up around his desk or strewn somewhere around his room where it seems messy but it’s just the way Peter likes things to be. He always somehow finds where everything is, including that one picture of the two of you at Coney Island that is currently shelf hopping around his room (and by currently, he means continuously).

He also likes writing about you because it makes it easier to pretend and make you the main character of the cheesy John Hughes movie he’s piecing together in his head whenever he sees you. He doesn’t expect anything from you. He just likes thinking about you. In his sentences and paragraphs, you were never a doubtless fantasy object—Peter had more respect for women and men and people than that—but it allowed him to imagine that somewhere there was a universe in which he had even a sliver of confidence buried deep within his gut that could someday push him into confessing all that he felt for you.

“And what are you thinking about, Mr. Parker,” you teased, interrupting him as he glanced up and grinned as you came into his field of view. His mouth also let out a sigh that was breathey and he licked his lips that were being nipped at by the cold New York air.

“You know...stuff.”

He said it in a way that sounded like him, which never really made sense to anyone but you two. Peter always sounded excited or nervous or innocent without intending to and he often hated it. The response only resulted in you lifting a brow as you sat next to him on the roof of his apartment building.

“Stuff...right. Is Tony Stark working you too hard? I’m sure there’s only so much web you can create on the daily,” You mutter, partly to yourself, but Peter still shoots you a look and nudges you gently with his elbow. “What? Am I wrong?”

”No, you’re ridiculous is what you are,” He retorts, rolling his eyes. His lips still threaten to split into a smile. ”I’m not thinking about that stuff.”

“Peter, would it kill you to be less vague? You’re really killing it with this superhero thing, aren’t you? You could use more descriptive nouns, you know.”

“Trust me, I have,” He starts, but he catches himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask him, but he doesn’t reply, he just stares intently at his backpack (his new and last one, according to Aunt May who was at her wits end with Peter’s ongoing backpack crisis). He had brought it up here to do some of his homework and focus, mainly because May was doing yoga and watching a workout DVD and he couldn’t handle all the noise. But he also brought along his second secret (six second secrets to be precise), in case inspiration struck, only to have you arrive unannounced ten minutes later. Big mistake.

He grabs his backpack, which was still severely unzipped and open, and tries to hoist it up on his shoulders, but you grab it.

“Pete, what’s up?” Peter doesn’t like when you worry about him, because it only reminds him of how much he really likes you. And how much he probably shouldn’t. Ned told him that the lines between your friendship were already blurred, but that just made Peter want to repaint it.

He’s awkward and he’s a gigantic dork, but around you he doesn’t find it a problem. When his feelings surface, that all changes.

“I gotta take care of––“

“Let me guess: stuff,” you finish for him, grabbing his backpack suddenly, spinning around to investigate it’s contents. “Whatever you’re worried about is in here!”

“Ever heard of privacy, [Y/N]? Come on, giveee,” he panics and whines, immediately grabbing for his bag. He’s careful and it’s only causing him to fail at taking it back. But he knows it better than disregarding his super strength and potetionally needing to ask May for another backpack. Or hurting you.

Almost certain you’ll find nothing, you start huff, until your eyes land on a stray piece of paper. It has Peter’s handwriting on it, his unmistakable and familiar handwriting, and you pull it out and hold it up triumphantly after skimming through the first lines.

“That’s what’s bothering you! You like someone!” You’re dodging his hands, and for a superhero, Peter’s never felt so slow. “Who is it? Can I read it?”

Deep down, it hurts to know that Peter likes someone. Your best friend. But you knew that the person must’ve been special for him to write about them. You knew Peter, and he never wrote unless it was occasionally for the school newspaper.

“No!” Peter snatches it from your hands, but you tumble forward, latching onto his arm as the both of you fell on your backs.

“Give it to me! Peter!”

Thus began the wrestling match. Peter had always, always known how competive you were, and determined, and he fondly remembered how you almost cried when he threw you the blue shell in Mario Cart. (You didn’t talk to him for three days.) He thought of taunting you lightly, with scattered of words of what, you want this letter? or sorry, i don’t know what you’re talking about, but figured they would only fuel your eagerness even more and he also knew how stubborn you were. And so, he resorted in hiding the letter behind his back as you leaped onto him, again and again, the both of you grabbing onto each other’s limbs and the thin piece of paper.

“Ha,” you yelled, finally sitting on his chest, holding the paper up high as you scanned a few sentences.

A few sentences was enough to see your name. Your name, written around like ink blots after words like beautiful and amazing, and around the crossed out errors and the small doodles he had taken the liberty of adding. Peter had only shouted, “[Y/N] don’t forget that we are on the roof and I will not hesitate to push you off!” as a joke, but gone increasingly quiet at the sight of the letter finally being in your hands.

“It’s...me.”

That was all you had to say, mainly because you hadn’t thought of anything else clever enough. Peter chewed his lip nervously underneath you and ran a hand through his hair, mumbling an apology.

"I know, it’s dumb. But could you give it back? I’d rather not face rejection with you also reading it. That’s too embarrassing.”

“Peter, I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Maybe you should try writing a letter.”

You smacked him lightly on the chest and got off him, helping him up. He may have tried to be sarcastic with you, but he was an open book. The nervousness and anxiousness was plastered all over his face like freckles, and his lips parted as he tried to steady his breathing. He fiddled with the hem of his dark blue physics-pun t-shirt and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“So...so do you like it?” He has said it so softly, you could have mistaken it for a gust of wind. Peter had thought about every scenario, every worst case scenario in his head and it was as if a nightmare was currently happening. Well, minus the gigantic spider (he knows, ironic isn’t it?).

“Yea,” you croaked, voice and throat suddenly dry. You cleared it and continued. “Yes. I mean, Peter, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to. I like you, a lot. But I can’t just go up to you and spill it all out of mouth like slobber. That’s why I wrote some of those.”

“Woah, woah, some? There’s more?”

Peter groaned and wished that he had the superpower of teleporting to anywhere but here. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Pete, you do realize I need to read them all right? Now that I know they exist,” you told him, following him as he tried to turn away from you to hide how ashamed he was.

“Stop,” he whined, visibly pouting. “Just forget it, okay? This was so stupid.”

You stopped him from walking off, pressing your hand to his chest. Giving him a small smile, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and you swore you felt him melt into your hand as it stayed there, caressing his face. It felt strange to some extent, holding your best friend the way you were, but nothing felt different. Well, not too different, not really. Sure, there was a little awkward tension now that the proclamations of love this boy had for you in paper had been read by your own eyes, now raveling around the nerves in your head—but this was the kid you knew inside and out.

If anything had changed in your friendship, relationship, whatever you and Peter had—it felt good, right.

“You don’t have to show me them if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and if I did, I’m sorry. But if it makes you feel better, I like you too. You big nerd. And that love letter? Really sweet.”

“You really liked it?” He mutters, eyes finally meeting yours, the glint in them almost sheepish. “You’re not just saying that?”

Eyes locked, you had no hesitation in your answer as you stare in wonder at the boy in front of you, hopeful, passionate—your idiot.

“No,” you whispered. “I’m not just saying that.”

209 notes · View notes