#like I know I’m easy to please so why would this wildly popular thing be any different | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvdsc · 4 years ago

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haha, what if we kissed? (lol jk... unless?)

fact! you’re secretly in love with your best friend, and so is he!

pairing :: zhong chenle x reader genre :: fluff / best friend, buzzfeed worth it au word count :: 5,072 words warnings :: none playlist :: sunny afternoon (red velvet) ⋆ about love (marina) ⋆ all about you (nct u) ⋆ love (x lovers) ⋆ bella notte (f. murray abraham & arturo castro) author’s note :: i literally just finished writing the rest of this in my meetings today and am posting during my lunchbreak, but happy (1 day late) birthday, chenle sweetheart!! ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

“Hello, and welcome back to another episode of Dream: Worth It!”

Chenle shouts loudly from the driver’s seat, waving excitedly at the camera attached to the dashboard as he waits for the traffic light to turn green. You visibly flinch in your spot on the passenger's side, startled by the sudden greeting, and even Jisung jumps in the backseat, almost dropping the camcorder he was fiddling with.

Your best friend continues to give the camera a dazzling smile, paying no attention to your and Jisung’s brief glares. “Today on Worth It, thanks to a fan’s suggestion, we’ll be trying out three different spaghetti dishes at three drastically different price points to find out which one is most worth it at its price!”

“Yes,” you chime in, nodding excitedly at the camera and giving a little wave. “So if you want to see another riveting episode of Chenle and Jisung going on three dates at three drastically different price points while I third wheel again, please stay tuned!”

“Hey!”

Both the boys wildly protest, but you blatantly ignore them, checking your phone quickly before beaming at the camera again. “So here’s our first spaghetti fact! The word ‘spaghetti’ is actually the plural version of spaghetto. Spaghetto comes from the Italian word spago, which means twine or thin string.”

“Wait, that actually makes sense. Spaghetti looks like thin strings,” Chenle says, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Yeah, basically every language makes sense, except for English,” you remark, setting your phone down in your lap before turning to your best friend. “So are you excited for this episode’s dish?”

“Yes! Shout out to Moony for your suggestion,” Chenle calls out, driving forward before making a right. “If anyone else has any suggestions for future videos, please feel free to comment below.”

You start to explain the first restaurant to your viewers. “Our first stop is called Legalize Marinara! It’s a small hole in the wall place in downtown LA, and fresh pasta is made everyday. We’ll be talking to the owner and chef Johnny Suh about the daily process.”

“And cut!” Jisung calls out, and you stop there, pressing the off button to end the recording. Later on, the three of you will have to work on snipping up the recordings to create a smooth transition from there to a shot of Johnny and his restaurant before jumping into your quick interview with him.

You quickly scroll through the questions you had written ahead of time to ask Johnny on your phone, mouthing the words and memorizing them. You were always the one who asked about the history of the restaurant because Chenle wasn’t as good with the more sentimental questions and preferred the light hearted ones about the food specifically, which you didn’t mind. As long as you get to try good food at the end of it, you’re one very happy, very stuffed camper. You are very much looking forward to visiting Legalize Marinara.

“—and that’s how the pasta is freshly made everyday in the morning.” Johnny finishes up, giving the camera a very charismatic smile and a wink. “We also have a special brew of coffee created by my dad, but that’s a story for another episode. I’ll bring out the spaghetti once it’s ready.”

You and Chenle thank him before going over to sit at one of the small metal tables near the entrance. The place had a sort of modern, yet retro feel to it with an eclectic mix of vintage, kitschy furniture adding pops of color here and there to the otherwise simple space with a neutral palette. The name of the restaurant flashes as a neon sign, serving as the main wall decor along with records scattered here and there on the wall as well.

Jisung stands across from the two of you, propping the large camera on his shoulder in preparation. You and Chenle both take a sip of the special coffee drinks Johnny prepared for you each on the house, pleasantly surprised by the crisp, refreshing taste your taste buds are immediately hit with. Johnny appears minutes later, a pretty plate of simple spaghetti and meatballs along with some Parmesan and garnish on top in hand.

“Here’s our most popular dish: spaghetti with meatballs!” he announces, placing the plate in front of you both carefully. “It’s a simple tomato sauce, but it’s made with organic, local ingredients that we get from the farmer’s market every morning. We get the fresh meat from the butcher down the block everyday to make the meatballs and buy the cheese from local sellers as well. We also add the secret spice mixture created by my mom to the meatballs, which gives it a distinct flavor from other restaurants. Please dig in, guys!”

You immediately swirl your fork into the plate of spaghetti. It looks and smells absolutely fantastic, and your mouth is already watering. You cannot believe that this only costs thirteen dollars. This is an absolute steal. You are just about to take a bite when—

“Wait! We didn’t do a ‘cheers’ yet!” Chenle exclaims, sticking out his fork towards you. You clink your fork against his own metal utensil, and he’s finally satisfied, retracting his arm. Finally, you take the much anticipated bite. The flavors absolutely explode in your mouth, and you’re already reaching out to take a second forkful of the delicious masterpiece.

“This is amazing,” you declare, and Chenle nods enthusiastically, spearing a meatball with his fork. Jisung briefly pans the camera over to Johnny, who shows a double thumbs up before doing finger guns and giving an exaggerated wink.

“Here, try this.” Chenle cuts a piece of the meatball and offers it to you. You reach out for it, but he pulls back, smiling widely and eyes sparkling. “Nuh uh, that’s too easy. Say ah, Y/N.”

“I—” Your cheeks grow warmer than ever, and his grin grows broader, wriggling the fork in front of you. Face burning, you move forward and take a bite. You can hear Jisung fake gagging behind the camera and very much would like to flip him the bird, but you are a professional. You’ll get him back for that later. After all, revenge is a dish best served piping hot and spicy, and you have some Carolina reapers leftover from another video that may accidentally find its way into Jisung’s ramen next time.

You and Chenle spend some more time describing the dish in between bites as Johnny pipes in here and there with some well placed dad jokes that has Jisung shaking his head behind the camera. By the end of it, you both are very happy, and you switch places with Jisung who has a chance to try out the pasta himself at last. He silently eats it before tossing a thumbs up at the camera, and you stop the recording there. After thanking Johnny once more before the three of you leave, you all pile into your car and get ready to go to the next stop.

Up next: Penne for your Thoughts.

“Can we stop here?” Jisung pipes up, peering out the window with interest. His eyes scan the surroundings, peering at the empty space and the wide stairs in front of the spiraling columns of a grand building.

You furrow your eyebrows, glancing at your friend in the backseat. “We’re still a couple blocks away from the restaurant though.”

“This looks like a good spot to film a dance,” he muses to himself before sitting up straighter. “Can we take a quick break? We’re still early, and I wanted to film a quick TikTok before the sun sets.”

You look over at Chenle, who shrugs and pulls over. He backs up into an available parking space, parallel parking smoothly, one hand gripping the back of your seat and the other on the steering wheel. “Alright, do your thing, Jisungie.”

Jisung excitedly hops out from the back. You and Chenle follow suit, locking the car behind you. Your friend is busy setting up his collapsible tripod before placing his phone on it and calling over to you, “Hey, can you stand in front, Y/N? I wanna angle this correctly and check the lighting.”

You move in front of his phone, standing several steps in front of the stairs. Jisung fiddles around with his phone for a few moments, switching up some of the settings and zoom functions before straightening up, eyes bright. “Okay, stay there to mark the spot! I’m gonna press the start button to record. Chenle, can I borrow your phone? I need to play the song for the dance.”

Chenle hands him his phone, and the familiar intro to Doja Cat’s “Say So” begins to blast on top volume. Jisung hands it back to its owner and hurriedly moves to stand in front of his own recording phone as you step aside. “I kinda also need you two in my TikTok.”

“Wait, what? I don’t know the dance,” you protest, starting to back out, but Jisung grabs your hand, pulling you into view, as Chenle bounces over with a shrug of his shoulders, never one to shy away from the camera.

“You don’t need to dance. I just need you both to uh, kiss my cheek on, um, both sides when I tap on them both. It should be the fourth time she says ‘say so’ in the song,” he stammers slightly, face turning slightly pink. He avoids making eye contact as you give him a suspicious look, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What? Why?”

“It’s part of the dance! Now get out of the shot please because the chorus is finally coming up again!” He unceremoniously shoves you out of the frame, and Chenle quickly catches you before you faceplant into the ground. You have a few choice words to yell at your friend and are about to furiously march over to him, but Chenle tightens his grip on you. “Let’s just let him finish, and we can go on. You know how he is about dancing.”

“I’m paying Renjun to put another cockroach picture as his lockscreen again,” you huff, frowning at the dancing boy. “Why didn’t you say anything about the whole kissing request anyway?”

“Eh, I’ve done it before. It’s no big deal.” Chenle shrugs, and you start to stutter, brain malfunctioning, “Wait, you did wha—”

“Oh, it’s almost our cue!” Chenle pushes you towards Jisung as he runs behind the camera to the other side, and you find yourself stumbling for a second time before catching yourself. Grumbling to yourself, you catch Chenle’s apologetic expression, and you sigh, shaking your head as you wait on the sidelines for Jisung to do the move.

And there it is.

Jisung points at his cheeks, tapping them on both sides, and you and Chenle jump into the frame. You lean forward, pressing your lips softly against— wait.

Eyes widening, you jump back in shock, mouth popping open, and the same reaction comes from your best friend when you two realize that you just kissed each other. On the lips.

Crouched on the ground, Jisung looks rather smug after quickly dropping down mid-dance and orchestrating the whole incident. He quickly stands up, striding towards the camera and ending the recording, before efficiently packing up the equipment and walking back to the car without another word.

“Did we just—” you splutter, unable to continue your sentence, as your face grows increasingly warm. Chenle refuses to make eye contact with you, the darkening blush spreading across his face like wildfire. The two of you both direct your disbelief at the same target, rushing over to the car which he boredly stands next to, waiting for Chenle to unlock it.

“Jisung!” You both shout his name, and he just stares at you both, a small grin across his face that he struggles to hide. “What?”

“‘What?’ That’s it? What was that?! Why did you do that?” you exclaim, waving your arms around. Chenle is rendered speechless, unable to say anything after the quick outburst of his other best friend’s name.

“I was tired of listening to Che—mmph!” Jisung is abruptly cut off as Chenle throws his hand over his friend’s mouth, effectively interrupting whatever he was about to say. The two of them silently look at each other, maintaining some sort of telepathic stare that’s probably discussed in the universal book of the bro code. You’ve seen Jaemin and Jeno or Renjun and Donghyuck share the same look before and never really understood it. To be honest, it kind of reminds you of that one moment where the main characters of a chick flick gaze into each others’ eyes and then kiss.

The sound of a text notification cuts off your train of thought and breaks the intense stare down going between the two boys, and you check your phone, eyes widening. “Oh my god, we’re going to be late if we don’t go now! Taeyong just texted me to confirm if we’re coming.”

The three of you hurry into the car, buckling up in your seats. Your hand lightly grazes Chenle’s amidst the rush, and you freeze. You look up, heat spreading across your face, as Chenle meets your gaze, turning redder than spaghetti sauce.

“Alright, you can continue this moment at the restaurant,” Jisung says loudly, jolting the two of you out of your stupor. You quickly retract your hand, mumbling a quick apology, and look away, cheeks still growing warmer than ever. Chenle awkwardly clears his throat and starts the car up, driving to your second stop on the map.

Penne for your Thoughts is simply lovely. It reminds you of a place you would see on the shiny cover of Architecture Digest: a hot spot where all those social influencers would take aesthetic snapshots and post to their Instagrams. The restaurant is quaint and spacious: a large area filled with lots of greenery, hanging plants in simple white ceramic pots, white painted brick walls, and wooden tables with soft cushions on each seat. Once you wrap up the interview with Taeyong, you are seated next to an open window with a great view of a pretty koi pond in the back.

“We serve Korean fusion style food here, and our spaghetti has a freshly made tomato sauce that includes chopped kimchi infused in it. We found that using garlic marinated pork belly makes a more flavorful meatball, which we char slightly, paying homage to the wonderful KBBQ samgyeopsal. We also found that a raw egg yolk on top adds a richness to the pasta, which is similar to a bowl of bibimbap. And there’s some grated Parmesan and mozzarella on top.” Taeyong sets the plate of gorgeous spaghetti in front of you and Chenle with a shy smile. “I hope you both enjoy it.”

You don’t know how else to describe the dish, except that it is beautiful (Just like the restaurant owner, like have you seen his face? Lee Taeyong is the true modern day Adonis, but you digress). You swear you saw Chenle wipe a tear from his face out of the corner of your eye. Practically salivating, you impatiently wait for Jisung to take a few close up videos and pictures of the dish before you immediately dig in.

Fork awkwardly hovering in the air, you pause, turning to Chenle. “Uh, cheers?”

His own loaded fork is halfway to his mouth when he halts. “Oh! Right. Yes. Um, cheers, Y/N.”

The two of you stiffly tap your forks against each other before facing forward again and finally taking the much desired bite. The flavors are bursting like fireworks, and if someone told you that you had died and gone to heaven, you would believe them because there’s no other word to explain the taste other than heavenly. Dante had many circles leading to the center of hell. If you are to apply the same concept to heaven, Legalize Marinara would be the first circle you enter once you go past the pearly gates, and Penne for your Thoughts would most definitely be the second.

The clinking of Chenle’s fork against the plate breaks you from your thoughts, and your good mood falters when you remember the incident again. You plaster a quick smile as you begin to describe the dish to the camera. Chenle chimes in with a wide smile of his own that looks a little too forced, but the only one who seems to notice is you.

Once the recording is wrapped up, Chenle drops you off at your apartment building for you to change into a more dressier attire for the last stop. He and Jisung will change at their place before coming back to pick you up for dinner.

Up next: Terrazza San Valentino.

The place is positively breathtaking. It is an upscale restaurant with open seating on a terrace, leading to a beautiful view of the ocean. Wisteria vines and bright flowers weave their way through the twisting low iron fences encompassing the space as they climb the sides of the building. You have the perfect seat to witness the picturesque sunset over the rippling waters. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon had been brought out and now rests on the covered table, uncorked and already poured out into two glasses. It very much reminds you of the beautiful restaurants you visited along the Amalfi Coast, specifically Il Capitano in Positano. You only hope that the food here will be just as amazing as the pasta you ordered there.

You just wish your company was a little better. The atmosphere felt more awkward than the time your mom had set you up on a blind date with her coworker’s son. You had to text Chenle for help that time, and he came to your rescue, helping you escape after pretending to be your long lost son. Obviously, your date wasn’t dumb enough to believe that, but he did believe that you were completely off your rockers and immediately took off after that.

Sneaking a glance at your best friend, you sigh when you realize that he refuses to look your way. You carefully tuck the skirt of your wine red dress under your crossed legs. The sweetheart neckline emphasizes the simple gold necklace you have on, and the dress tapers off at your waist, accentuating your figure perfectly. You paired the outfit with a matching lipstick, a simple black clutch, and some elegant black heels with ribbons that loop around your ankles into a pretty bow.

In other words, you look stunning, and Chenle’s palms are growing sweaty. He undos the first few buttons of his white dress shirt, desperately wanting to take off his tailored suit jacket, but his attire would look much too casual without it. He avoids eye contact with you and remains silent, growing even more flustered by the second, and looks at Jisung helplessly.

Of course, his other best friend proves to be useless again (Disappointing, but not surprising). Jisung simply wriggles his eyebrows at him, eyes darting from you to Chenle, before zooming into his face at a very unflattering angle. Chenle throws him a dirty look, and Jisung merely sticks out his tongue in response. However, they immediately smoothen their expressions into much more pleasant ones when Jaehyun comes out with the plate of food on a small cart.

“This is our play on spaghetti.” He gives you a dimpled smile, and you briefly wonder if the customers rave about this restaurant because of the food or the chef. Perhaps it is a combination of both.

He continued to explain the dish, setting it down in front of you and Chenle. “We use strangozzi that is made fresh every morning. We infuse sun dried tomatoes that we dried ourselves into the olive oil for a minimum of thirty days. The pasta is cooked for sixty seconds, while we slightly sauté grated truffle in the oil in a pan. Once the pasta is ready, we transfer it to the truffle pan and cook it for another minute, making sure to coat the pasta in the sauce. And then we grate some Parmesan and truffles right on top at the table.”

Jaehyun pulls out the expensive mushroom, generously grating thin slices on top of the glistening strands of pasta. The smell is incredible, and your eyes are already hyper fixated on the dish in front of you. He puts down the mushroom and grater, picking up the second grater and the cheese from the cart before shredding the cheese perfectly.

When he finishes, Jaehyun places them back on the cart and smiles at you both charmingly once more. “I hope you enjoy your meal. If you need anything else, please feel free to ask.”

You thank him before he leaves, and Jisung takes all the necessary shots before giving the okay to start eating. You and Chenle offer up some comments about the elegance of the dish, describing its appearance and finally twirling some on the end of your fork. You murmur a quiet “cheers” as the two of you clink your glasses of wine together and take a sip before having the first bite.

The amount of money you have to pay to have a truffle dish is absolutely worth it. The taste is simply indescribable, and you truly have no words. You are blown away by the amount of flavor that can be created with just a few ingredients, and your taste buds are singing. Wide eyed, you turn to look at Chenle, who has the same astonished expression on his face, already staring back at you in complete surprise.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and your best friend agrees with you. “Holy shit indeed.”

You immediately go for another bite, and Chenle quickly follows suit. “This is— this is incredible. I don’t know how to describe it, except, except, wow. I can’t stop eating it, and the sun dried tomatoes, olive oil, fresh pasta al dente, and truffles just work so well together. It’s like a symphony in my mouth.”

“I agree,” Chenle nods enthusiastically, swiping another forkful of the yummy goodness. “This has to be one of the best dishes of the entire season.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” You spear a slice of the truffle with the pasta, and the ensuing bite is simply perfect and delectable. “I would come back here every single week if my bank account would let me.”

The stifled atmosphere between the two of you suddenly becomes relaxed at that point, the thick tension dissipating with food never failing to act as the perfect ice breaker and buffer simultaneously. For now, you can pretend the kiss didn’t happen and almost forget it (key word: almost).

“There’s a very popular fan suggestion,” Jisung pipes up, looking at the comment section of the previous video where you and Chenle announced your current recording’s star dish. “It got over twenty thousand likes and five hundred responses.”

“What is it?” You pause in eating, fork poised in the air, as you look over to your friend behind the camera. Chenle pays no attention, continuing to take another bite.

“Recreate the Lady and the Tramp moment.”

Your jaw drops, and your eyes grow round. Practically scandalized, your voice goes an octave higher. “You mean the kissing scene?!”

At the mention of kissing, Chenle chokes on a noodle, spluttering and nearly hacking up a lung, and you quickly reach over and firmly pat him on the back repeatedly until he stops coughing with a weak “thanks.”

“What? This is a food show! Why do they want us to kiss?” your best friend wheezes, and you pass him a glass of water. He grabs it from your outstretched hand gratefully and takes a large gulp.

“I don’t know, fan service? Anyway, it’s good for the views!” Jisung gives you a thumbs up, and you frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why don’t you do it with Chenle then?”

“It specifically says you and Chenle,” he informs smugly with a smirk, and you glower at him, much to his amusement.

“Well, if it’s for the fans…” Chenle trails off, a faint blush beginning to make its appearance on his face. He hesitantly pulls out one strand of the pasta, picking up one end on his fork.

You can’t believe this. Yet, you slowly reach out for the other end of the strand with your fork, twirling it onto the metal prongs securely. You move to take your end of the noodle, while Chenle does the same, both of you actively avoiding eye contact.

“Oh c’mon, at least make it a little more romantic than that. Jeno and Jaemin have more chemistry than you two right now,” Jisung complains, and you would very much like to chuck the half full bottle of wine at his big, annoying head (Chenle also has similar thoughts).

Taking a deep breath, you finally place the noodle’s end in your mouth. Cheeks burning, you can feel your heart rate already skyrocketing at the mere thought of kissing your best friend again. You know you’ll freeze up if you look at him, so you do your best to focus your gaze on the center of the noodle strand. You’ll have some time before the two of you meet in the middle, right?

Wrong.

It comes much too soon, and your palms are growing sweaty as your heart races in your chest at a breakneck speed. Your lips are mere millimeters away from his, and you pause. You can’t hear anything, but the pounding of your heart and the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you finally find the courage to peek up at your best friend. You find him already gazing at you, a soft expression on his face. His eyes dart down to your lips before meeting your eyes once more, and you suddenly realize that he’s waiting for you, that he won’t do anything unless you want it too, that it’s okay if you don’t.

But you do.

So you muster up all the courage you possibly can and close the distance, carefully pressing your lips against his for a tender kiss before biting off the noodle. When you pull back, you finally notice the awestruck expression written all over Chenle’s face. He lets out a small laugh of disbelief before he positively beams, bouncing in his seat, and you sport a matching smile, albeit a little bashful.

“Uh, anyway, who left that comment? We should probably give them a mention,” you say, clearing your throat and hoping the heat subsides in your cheeks soon. Chenle continues to grin like the Cheshire Cat and secretly grabs your hand underneath the tablecloth, intertwining your fingers with his. You can feel your face exponentially growing warm once again, but you still send a pleased smile to your best friend.

“Uh…” Jisung awkwardly laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “‘Insert goofy’s chuckle.’”

At Jisung’s answer, you freeze up entirely in your position before immediately turning and locking eyes with Chenle in complete horror, the both of you instantly coming to the same, dreadful realization.

“HYUCK?!”

One new notification: Dream: Worth It uploaded a new video!

insert goofy’s chuckle commented:

oh my god you guys actually did it. your relationship started all thanks to ME 🙆🏻 you’re welcome btw 😘 I take payment in the form of your first born’s name

notanimpasta replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle ok calm down rumpelstiltskin

jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta what a perfect nickname for him. He’s an ugly little greedy man

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ jisung pwark LMAOOOO (and congrats, chenle and y/n!)

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ jisung pwark what tf no one asked???

notanimpasta replied: @ jisung pwark wait hold on you were supposed to edit that end part out????

jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta i left it for the views ☺️

big head king replied: @ jisung pwark people watch for the food tho!!! 🙂

nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ replied: @ big head king I watched it for the kiss. Love is so beautiful 🥰💓💞🥺🥺💕💛💟✨💖

jenojam replied: @ big head king I had watched it for the food! but congratulations, y/n and chenle :)

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ big head king i watched it because ron jeon said you mentioned me

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle IT’S RENJUN!!!!!! 🤬🤬

mork lee rawr xD replied: hahaha I watch for the food~

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ mork lee rawr xD Thank you Mark, very cool!

winwin in past tense is wonwon!!! commented:

whoop whoop congrats lele 🥳🥳

rapperpunzel commented:

the pasta looks good 🍝

johnny’s communication center commented:

Thanks for stopping by! Come back for the couple’s special discount anytime 😉

baa baa yang sheep commented:

oh my god finally!!!

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ baa baa yang sheep you owe me $50 I was right, it happened before the season finale

baa baa yang sheep replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck suddenly i’m jared, 19

xiao dejasmine commented:

hahahaha cute ! 😁��

ty track commented:

Thank you y/n and chenle for visiting ~~ congrats on your relationship !!! -TY

junguwu (◕‿◕✿) commented:

YAAAAAS CHENLE SWEETIE 😘😘😘

jisung pwark commented:

check out my latest tiktok video @ jisungpwark to see their actual first kiss!!! and don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe ☺️

notanimpasta replied: @ jisung pwark STOP USING US AS CLICKBAIT

jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta no ❤️

jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta also red is sus

big head king replied: @ jisung pwark so when are you gonna do the best friend kissing challenge huh 👀

jisung pwark replied: @ big head king SHUT UP CHENLE

honeyfairy replied: @ jisung pwark 😳😳

gu ren gui god commented:

wow~ very cute, chenle! my angel 😊

FIGHTING HAEYADWAE commented:

YOOOOO CONGRATS, MAN 🤩🤪🤪

prince jae commented:

thank you guys for coming by! please stop by next year on your anniversary free of charge (:

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ prince jae omg mark and I will be there for sure ❤️

showmethemonet replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle my new boyfriend and I will be there too ☺️

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet I’m sorry, I was wrong, pls don’t leave me for bts jin even though i am so much more handsomer and talented than him 😌

apado gwenchana god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

2K notes · View notes

yutahoes · 4 years ago

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Devil Inside

pairing : childhood friends! Yuta x Y/N

genre : fluff, horror au, smut but not detailed

word count: 5.6k words

warnings: fuckboy Yuta, calling someone a 'goth girl', horror movies, Yuta becomes an incubus, too much blood, raw meat eating, flesh eating, human organ eating, slut shaming a minor character, calling Yuta a whore, killing, mention of male molestation, mentioned teacher-student intercourse, shirtless Yuta, mentions of breeding, mentioned kitchen sex, mentioned shower sex, mentioned rough sex, Y/N getting wounded, skipping classes, Yuta as a murderer, a cambion. In other words, this is disturbing and problematic.

a/n: Inspired by this set of pictures and the movie Jennifer's Body. This is my first time writing a horror themed AU and this is badly written. I just can't stop thinking about this so for me to do something productive today, I had to post this. 😂 This has uncomfortable theme so please read in moderation. I went crazy over this, sorry. Feedback is highly appreciated. 😘

You and Yuta had been friends since forever, stemming from the history of your parents being friends and all since college. Your home is his home and you have your own room in his house. Staying together inside one room isn't a problem, your parents trusted you both but growing up is different.

You had to admit that you grew up leading a boring life, too bookish, and didn't even interact with your classmates. Yuta, on the other hand, has always been the life of the party, the school superstar, the popular guy. And that huge difference created a wall between your friendship.

You didn't know when it started, it just did. He started hanging out with the cool kids while you were left in the shadows. You can't really get mad at him, that's growing up. And he didn't change when it was just the two of you.

When your parents would go abroad for their business trips, Yuta would check on you every night. If you have eaten dinner, if you've locked all the windows, or if you knew the number for the police station or the fire station in case something happens. He's still the same Yuta. Your childhood friend, Yuta.

"Did you do your assignments?" He asked, not removing his eyes from the TV where he's watching a horror film. This is something that he can't do at their home or his mom would freak out.

You rolled your eyes, answering a 'Yes, abeoji' while opening the fridge to see what to have for breakfast tomorrow then whining since there's more raw food in there than easy-to-eat foods. "I'll probably skip breakfast tomorrow." You said more to yourself, already thinking to wake up early and just get some waffles from the shop near the bus stop.

"Just leave the back door unlocked, I'll cook breakfast for you tomorrow." Yuta claimed that made you look at him.

You raised your eyebrow at that. "Weird that you're here." You started then sat next to him on the couch, "No date?" He showed a screenshot of her photo, a different girl than yesterday. She was wearing black, with black eyeliner, and a pierced eyebrow. "She looks like a goth. Is that your type now?"

"She's hot!" He exclaimed and you just nodded at him. "And she wants to meet at 11 pm so yeah." That was a weird time to meet up. But you didn't react and just focused on the TV just as the jump scare happened. You quickly hid your face on the throw pillow, blowing heavy breaths that made the guy next to you laugh. You hated horror, hated blood, and you're convinced that Yuta is doing this to scare you. "I'll get going." He said, standing up.

"Can you close the TV first? Or stop the movie, at least?" You said, face still behind the pillow. He laughed then closed the TV, engulfing you in darkness that made you more scared. The bloody face from the TV earlier flashing on your mind.

"Sorry Y/N. I promised not to scare you like that again." You heard him say then felt something warm on the top of your head followed by a smooching sound. He patted your head, "I really have to go. I'll see you in the morning."

You waited for the sound of the door closing before you removed the throw pillow from your burning face. He kissed your head, right? You felt that. Why would he do that? Does he know that you have a crush on him? Or is it just his manwhore ways? But why you? You screamed at the throw pillow, cursing at Yuta for being the charming guy he is.

You cannot deny the fact that each day, your feelings for Yuta had to grow. Who are you to blame when he's getting more handsome each day? And you're just a girl who has a weak heart for him. The image was still vivid in your mind, the first time you watched a horror movie and you were already crying in fright ten minutes into the movie. "I will protect you, Y/N." And you believed that. Yuta is always there to protect you.

A loud bang can be heard that made you wake up in your sleep. You listened for other noises and heard footsteps, someone is inside your home. The first instinct is to call Yuta but what if he's in another place, you cannot trouble him. So you just took the baseball bat he lent you for this circumstance, repeating in your mind the number of the police station.

You quietly tiptoed down the stairs and saw the light of the refrigerator open. Is it a food thief? And how did he come inside your house? You can see a trail of blood on the kitchen floor that startled you. The bat was dropped on the floor when you saw someone seated in front of the refrigerator. "Yuta?"

He was covered in blood, eating the raw beef as if starving. His eyes were blood cold and you stepped back in fright. He looks like a monster. What kind of a crazy dream is this? You have to do something to wake up. Anything to wake yourself up.

And as stupid as you sound, you hit your head with the bat that was on the ground.

You opened your eyes, the sunlight hitting your eyes and your head aching real bad as if something hit you. You groaned while stretching then remembered your dream. Yuta. Your kitchen. Quickly, you ran to the kitchen to see Yuta’s mom cooking something. “I’m glad you’re up. You’ll be late for class.”

“Auntie, where is Yuta?” She shrugged, saying that he didn’t even go home last night. It was a normal occurrence, that’s part of Yuta’s social life. “I’ll just prepare for school.” When you glanced at the couch, Yuta’s baseball bat was there. Weird, isn’t it supposed to be in your room?

You had a nice breakfast, thanks to Yuta’s mom, and enough time to go to school. The first thing was to get your books in your locker and walk to class, avoiding some of your schoolmates who block the way. Before you can get inside the room, you see Yuta passing by opposite your way with a new girl in his arms. You knew her, the cheerleader, the basketball team’s girlfriend. Wow, she reached the soccer team now. When your eyes met with Yuta, you were reminded of him seated on your kitchen floor. Filled with blood and with dead cold eyes. You shake your head. That was a dream. You shivered. A very vivid dream.

It was a normal boring school day, a typical day that it surprised you when Yuta wrapped his arms around you then leaned closer. “I need your help.” A curious look was etched on your face. “Math. Help me study for the exam tomorrow.” You nodded, removing his hand from your shoulder. “Why?” He asked before putting back his hand on you.

“I just don’t want your girlfriends to misunderstand.” Yuta chuckled then pinched your cheek. “Yuta, stop it. It hurts.”

He smiled. That breathtaking smile which makes you weak for him. “Sorry.” He whispered then leaned to place a kiss on your reddening cheek, startling you. Your eyes widened at his actions. What is wrong with Yuta? “You do know that I like you more than I like those girls, right?” What? Your heart kept on beating wildly against your chest that you’re scared he might hear it. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Once you breathe in, without realizing that you’re holding your breath, you saw everyone’s eyes were on you. Oh no! This is trouble.

You went home early, trying to stay away from your schoolmates. You don’t want to talk to them and explain that you’re friends with Yuta, that will cause some damage to him. But why did he do that? You tried raking your brains for an answer but you can’t seem to find the right one. So you just shrugged it and maybe ask Yuta when he gets to your house.

It’s late at night. You finished reviewing the whole chapter for your exam tomorrow yet Yuta is a no show. You lightly glanced at the house next door, seeing that the living room lights were on. Their car isn’t in the garage, meaning his parents are not at home. Then you saw the silhouette of someone making out on the couch. Oh, his ditching makes sense now. You closed the door and made sure to close the light, ready to get a good night’s sleep.

You opened your eyes in darkness, the clock reading that it’s almost 4 am. You felt thirsty that you decided to go downstairs to get a cup of water, halfway through the stairs you can see someone on the other door’s yard digging up something. Curious, you put on a coat and exited the backdoor to check on it. The same Yuta, covered in blood, and this time you knew you weren’t dreaming.

“Yuta?” You called but he kept digging. Blood mixed with the soil and the most horrible thing you can see, limbs. “Yuta.” You called once again, even holding his shoulder to make him look at you. He kept covering the body with the soil, even covering it up with a large pot. What has he done? This isn’t the Yuta you know and it scared you.

“Y/N.” He called that made you look at him. The warmth of his voice is still there. “Help me, please.” He sounded broken. “I’m really scared.” The first time you saw this reaction on Yuta. He looks so fragile, so vulnerable.

There’s a part of you that’s still wary of him. You have questions in your head that you wanted to ask him and you waited for him to finish his shower, while you make coffee for both of you, as you collect your thoughts. When he sat in front of you at the kitchen table, he looked like the Yuta you knew except there’s pain in his eyes. “Yuta.” You called, rubbing the side of your cup. “What…?” But you don’t know what to ask him.

“I killed Miss Jang.” Your eyes widened in surprise. The assistant PE teacher? “We had amazing sex and then…” You shook your head. He had sex with a teacher? Wow, his man whoring is of another level. “You don’t understand, she’s been touching me appropriately for the past couple of months so I just gave her what she wanted.”

A gasp escaped your throat. “She’s what?” He just stared at you. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Do you think someone would believe me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head. “Because it’s embarrassing.” You scoffed then rolled your eyes at him. “So you killed her?”

“I ate her.”

“Yuta, I don’t need the details of your sexcapades…”

“I ate her organs.” Your eyes widened in surprise. What? “It’s a craving after having sex with someone. I just want to eat something raw and her flesh can’t even satisfy me.” That explains why he’s covered with blood.

The memory of that night came to you, when he was eating that raw meat from the fridge. “When did it start?” He answered last night and you were more surprised that it is true and not a dream. “How?” He shrugged. “What do you plan to do now?”

“I don’t know.” He held your hand that was on the table, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Help me, please. I don’t want to kill another woman again.” You sighed. This was Yuta. Your childhood friend. The guy you like. You nodded before thinking how stupid it is to do this.

The news of Miss Jang being missing is the talk in your class the next day but what’s more surprising is some testimony of the guys who were molested by her, like Yuta. You watched as your friend fiddled with his thumbs, obviously listening to your classmates. He actually did them a favor but something isn’t right. Why is this happening to Yuta?

A sexual thirst, a thirst for flesh. Your phone showed a result called an incubus, a demon that pursues sexual relations with women. But why does Yuta keep on eating flesh to satisfy his craving? You stood up and decided to ditch class just to have the answers to your questions, finding yourself in the back of the library. The collection of forbidden books.

“What are you doing here?” You immediately hushed Yuta as you got hold of a black book, opening it to reveal different pentagrams and illustrations of spooky creatures. “What is that?”

“An incubus.” You said then sat on the library floor, Yuta following you. “Demons who attract women for sexual pleasure.” Before he could say anything else, “I think that was what is happening to you.”

You visibly saw him gulp. “You think I’m a demon?” No, you don’t.

“Possessed by a demon, Yuta.” You flipped the pages of the book to see about the different rituals on how to summon a demon. “Did you join a cult? Or even got drugged and was offered as a human sacrifice?” You stopped. That night. That girl. “The goth girl, you saw her that night. Do you remember what happened?”

“We had sex.” You rolled your eyes at that, of course. “I told her I’m a virgin because she likes guys like that. We had amazing sex, mind-blowing sex.” You sighed. “Then I woke up on your kitchen floor.” That’s all he remembers? Finally, your thoughts are confirmed, it isn’t a dream. You really saw Yuta that night. “You were lying on the ground as well and I had to remove my shirt before carrying you to your room.”

The thought of the shirtless Yuta carrying you made the blood rose up your cheeks. “You were covered in blood that time and the trail…”

“I had to clean that up before you wake up because you’re scared of blood.” You stared at him warmly. He had to think about that? “You saw me?” You nodded, sharing that he was eating that raw meat when you saw him. “Did I scare you?” If there was one person you cannot lie to, that would be Yuta. He can easily see through you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I won’t hurt you, I promise that.”

You held his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll help you, Yuta. We can remove that demon inside you.”

The only conclusion you can come up with is to meet with the same goth girl he met before. Yuta remembered having sex with her and he was eating that raw meat as if really hungry so she might be alive, Yuta didn’t kill her. And you have to hurry because each night that passes, Yuta has someone to bury in the backyard. It's a female prostitute one night, then a drug pusher, followed by the girl in class who bullied you.

It's becoming a huge issue in town, the disappearance of young girls, that your parents had to come home quickly worried about your safety. "From now on, go home early." Your dad ordered. "I'll ask Yuta to walk you home every day." How would they feel if Yuta was the one doing all these?

He was worried about you joining him in meeting up with the girl, even repeating to you that he'll kill himself if something bad happens to you but you assured him that you'll be fine. It's not you who needed help now, it was him. You need to put a stop to this before another one gets hurt.

The girl was laughing cynically when you asked her what to do to remove the demon inside your friend. "A cambion." She answered and you curiously gave her a look. "That's the goal of an incubus. Once there's a cambion, he will leave the body he's possessing."

A cambion? All you need is to have a cambion so the demon can leave Yuta. You searched what it was and just facepalmed yourself. Fuck this! Will he be saved?

----

"You want me to breed someone?" You shiver at his choice of words but nod, nonetheless. "How can I do that when eating them becomes part of the sexual process?"

You shook your head then ruffled your hair. This is getting you crazy. "You know, this is your fault for whoring around. If you just had a fixed girlfriend then this wouldn't happen…"

"Then why did you reject my confession?" You blinked twice as if it can clear what you heard. Did you hear him correctly? "I told you I'll marry you in senior year and what is your answer? I'm not marrying you, Yuta." He said while copying your voice, leaving you dumbfounded. "I was heartbroken that time so I started dating other girls then maybe you can finally notice me."

"I thought you were teasing me that time." Your voice got louder that your mom knocked on the door asking if you two were fighting. He shook his head, smiling at your mom. When she closed the door, you just stared at him awkwardly. Once again, you had to ruffle your hair. This is so frustrating! "Just, make a baby with someone."

You waited, biting your thumb as the clock struck 3 am. You haven't had the right sleep thinking of what might happen to Yuta then you saw movement in the yard. Quietly, you went out of the backdoor of your house and saw him outside, blood on his clothes. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "Same."

"Where is her body?" You removed your cardigan to wipe away the blood from his face and his neck.

He looks tired, hopeless. "I left her body on a roadside." You gasped at that. "I can't save myself. I'll be like this forever." He can't, he needed to fight himself. Fight his urges. But even you knew that it was impossible.

There was a flicker of light coming from their kitchen, someone was going to see you. They're going to see Yuta with a bloody shirt like this. "Remove your shirt." You ordered and he looked confused so you just ripped it from him. Shit, you just realized how this looked like when two booming voices can be heard calling both your names. Both your dads.

"Where is your shirt?" Your dad asked, arms crossed. You're inside your house, both your fathers and mothers staring at the two of you. "And you're wearing only that outside?" You glanced at the thin nightgown you were wearing and Yuta handed you a throw pillow. "Please wear your shirt, Yuta."

"I ripped his shirt, dad." You heard both your moms giggle. "Can we please not make a big deal of this? This isn't what you think it is."

Yuta's dad sighed. "Our only concern is why bother doing it outside? We let you sleep in each other's room." What?

"Are you exhibitionists?" Your mom asked and you gasped. Is that what they're thinking now? Your head aches, you didn't have any decent sleep yet and this ordeal with Yuta is making you lose your mind. Can't you just all talk tomorrow, not at 4 in the morning?

Yuta held your hand, lacing your fingers together. "I'm willing to take responsibility if something happens to Y/N." Surprised, you glanced at him. Nothing happened, he knew that. What the hell is he saying so suddenly? "But can I please stay with Y/N tonight, uncle?"

It was a surprise when your dad allowed you both to go upstairs to your room but you had to wait until they're in their rooms before getting your cardigan and Yuta's blood-stained clothes from the yard. Yuta was still seated on your bed when you went back to your room, staring at you with his misty eyes.

He pulled you close, arms wrapped around your waist while his head was on your chest. "I'm scared." His hold got tighter. "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore." If you're frustrated with this, you realized Yuta might be in bigger pain than you are. You held his hair, threading your fingers along its strand. You've been together for so long but this has been the most intimate thing that you two had ever done. "You were right, this is my fault for hurting those girls. I used them for my self pleasure, to boost my ego. This is me getting punished for all of that."

You held his hands, kneeling in front of him to see his face. "But you don't deserve this, Yuta." You held his cheeks as tears started falling from his eyes. "We'll do something, I promise."

He pulled you up, letting you sit on his lap. The warmth of his eyes makes your heart beat rapidly inside your chest. "I love you, Y/N." Your eyes widened at the sudden confession, "I'm sorry for getting you dragged into this but I'm thankful you haven't left me yet." He hugged you, head on your shoulder and you can feel his warm breath on your neck. "I love you. I don't want you to leave me."

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He's scared, you can feel him shaking. "I won't leave you, Yuta." You let him sob in your chest like a little child just wanting some warmth. And you realized, this might be just what he needed.

Both of you skipped school that morning since you slept at 5 am, just laying next to each other. Your head on his chest, hands held together. It was him who first got out of bed, prepared himself, then placed a small kiss on our head before leaving your room. If only you could stay like this. But he had to go and fuck another woman tonight to satisfy his thirst, making your heart ache. Can you live like this?

Your parents and Yuta were seated around the dining table when you went down for breakfast. "We were just telling Yuta that we have a business trip in Brazil." You nodded, used to it by now. "And because of the news around, it would be better that he stay here with you." Your mom suggested that it made you surprised. After last night, they're letting you live in one roof with a guy, unsupervised?

"Mom. I can stay at home alone."

"I know. But just to be safe." You're not even safe with their suggestion. "I know what you're thinking honey. You're a female and a male with raging hormones, it's alright with us." Yuta choked on the food and you hissed at your parents.

Your dad coughed lightly. "We stacked some condoms just in case."

"Dad!"

"Honey, we agreed to let them have their freedom." You glared at your mom. "We really wanted a grandchild." It's your turn to choke at your food. Then it made you stop. If he breeds a human, the incubus will go away. This might just be your answer.

---

"No, Y/N!" Yuta stated firmly after explaining what your plan is. "What if I hurt you?"

You shook your head. You're not scared of that now but you're frightened for Yuta and the things that might happen to him if this continues on. The police started investigating the missing dead girls, it's only a matter of time before they can chase down Yuta. You held his cheeks, distress can be seen in his expression. "I trust you, Yuta."

It was a crazy plan. When your parents left that afternoon, you stacked up some raw meat that the butcher thought you were throwing a party. Yuta didn't kill the first girl, the goth girl, and you're holding to that belief that Yuta can have some control over himself. When the night struck, you locked all doors to your house that would forbid Yuta from going out.

"I'm giving you the last chance to back out from this, Y/N." You shook your head. "I'm sorry." He whispered, carrying you to the countertop of the kitchen. "If something bad happens, I'll kill myself. I swear."

You giggled then wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then we'll be like Romeo and Juliet." He laughed at your reference before moving closer to plant his lips on yours. Your first kiss with Yuta. His lips were so soft and he tasted so sweet that made your brain hazy.

When he slipped his tongue inside you and his fingers dug on your waist, you knew there's no way you can get out of this. You can feel his warmth in every touch, in every part of your skin his lips touched. He slowly undressed you, making sure that he's still Yuta and whispering promises that he wouldn't hurt you. He didn't at first and you refused to believe that you made love with him at your kitchen counter.

The grandfather clock signaled that it is midnight. Yuta just pulled you down from the kitchen counter, turning you around, and thrust into you that made you scream. No foreplay, no kissing. You turned to see his eyes, those dead eyes. His hand held your neck, the other digging in your waist. You prevent making a sound, not wanting to alert his parents next door. His teeth dig in your shoulder, an excruciating pain that makes you bite your lip to prevent a sound. This is how he kills them.

You tried to reach for the raw meat nearby, desperately trying to move out of his hold. You pushed yourself away from the counter, causing him to fall to the ground. You watched as he took the meat and ate it as if starved, like the first night you saw him in this state. Every night, he's like this. An appetite for sex, an appetite for flesh.

And it breaks your heart that you can't do anything to help him.

He ate five portions of the raw meat and you mentally told yourself to get some tomorrow for what might happen at night. You covered him with a blanket as he lay down your kitchen floor, kissing his forehead. You wanted this to stop, wanted him to be normal again. You clean the wound on your shoulder as well as the scratch on your side, hissing in pain as you put medicine on the bleeding part.

You woke up with his warm arms wrapped around you, a kiss on your wounded shoulder woke you up. "Did I do this? I really did hurt you." He grazed his finger on the spot that hurt as you shook your head. He nuzzled his nose on your shoulder and you felt his warmth. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"But Yuta this is better. We know that you still have control over yourself." You sat on the bed and he traced the scratch on your side. "When the clock struck twelve, that's when you started having that hunger. We're slowly knowing things about you now. We can do this together, Yuta."

He nodded, watching you stand up then head to the bathroom. You were supposed to close the door when you felt him enter the same room. The warm feeling is back when his hands touch your body, in contrast to the cold water cascading down your body. You skipped class again because of the pain in your shoulder and he went to school.

If this continues, it's better to listen to both your parents and just get married. Live together in a far city where you can start a new life, maybe you can give birth to Yuta's child and it will end his suffering. As you put new meat inside the fridge, you heard a knock on the door. Yuta came in with a distressed look on his face. "The police are at school. They were starting to suspect a student at school."

"Did you do anything?" He shook his head, hands clasped together. "Just lay low for a while."

"What if they found out that it was me?" You shook your head, that's the worst-case scenario. And you promise not to let that happen.

He stayed at your house, particularly your room that night. When the clock struck twelve, you were pushed on your bed with Yuta pounding on you real rough. The moment you felt his lips on your neck, you rolled to the bed and reached for the raw meat on the bedside table. You breathed hard, you can do this.

The police were doing their best, you had to give them that. And it scares you that they'll narrow it down to you and Yuta doing these things. The disappearance of the women stopped but the deaths were a mystery that the police remained to look for clues. It's been a couple of nights since you've done this with Yuta and every day, a new wound would appear on your body.

Your parents came back from their business trip when they noticed the amount of raw meat in your fridge and the wounds in your body. You tried to shrug it off, saying that it's just your clumsiness. Yet, they never bought it. You cannot ask Yuta to stay over so you keep your phone in your ear, watching his room for movements. The moment the clock struck midnight, nothing happened to your surprise. He kept saying that he's fine, that he doesn't need anything, that he's still Yuta. Maybe an off day.

You slept relieved but woke up with the sound of police sirens. You glanced at the window outside and saw the yard next door being dug out by your dad and some men in uniform, Yuta's dad watching nearby. How? You ran downstairs to check on Yuta but your mom quickly told you to stay inside. "We're sorry, we trusted you to a murderer."

"He's not." You shouted trying to see from the window. Yuta was handcuffed, a large man holding him in place. He shook his head when your eyes met and the sight of rotten decaying bones caught your attention.

Your stomach churned and you vomited on the kitchen sink, your mom helping you by rubbing your back. "He's such a sweet child. What happened to Yuta?" Your mom asked and you itched to tell her that it's not him. A devil inside him.

Your eyes widened at the realization. Nothing happened last night. Now, you're having this weird feeling in your body. A cambion. And you felt yourself fainting at that information.

---

It's been years, seven years to be exact when that moment happened to your life. Yuta's parents moved to a different town but you still see them from time to time, as well as your parents. When they found out that you were pregnant with Yuta's child, they immediately sent you away to give birth abroad. Your son was three when you went back to the country and introduced him to his dad.

"Daddy!" Your son cheered seeing his dad walking outside the huge gates of the visitor's area. The older was grinning wide, carrying his son to where you are. He kissed you on your forehead and your son giggled, "Daddy, mommy said I can go to a big school this year." He nodded, letting the young boy sat on his lap. "Grandma and grandpa are going to buy me my bag."

Yuta giggled and you noticed how the two looked very much alike. It was the exact reason why your parents warmed up on Yuta and let you introduce your son to him. "I'm sorry. But when dad gets out of here, I'm going to pick you up from school every day."

You can feel your eyes water at that. The younger boy wrapped his arms around his neck, "When are you getting out of here?" You both sighed. It's always his question.

"Just another three years, then we can be together." There's a lot of pain in his words. "You and mommy can wait for me, right?" Your son nodded.

He reached out to hold your hand that was above the table. You nodded at him. You waited this long, another three years wouldn't hurt. He engaged in another conversation with the younger boy and you gazed at him, he looks better than the first few years he's here.

"Time to get back, Nakamoto." The police officer said and your son hugged his father's neck, refusing to let go of him.

This has always been a problem every time you visit Yuta. "Honey, we have to go. Daddy has to get back." You said quietly, taking him from Yuta. Your son glared at the big man behind his dad and he just turned his head to look at the wall. "Honey, let's get ice cream." You said quickly and the younger smiled at you. The guard turned around, asking what happened that his head was hurting.

Yuta gave you a worried look but you just shook your head, putting sunglasses on your son. "Say bye to daddy." You whispered and he obeyed you. "I'll come to visit you soon."

He kissed you on the forehead, "I'm sorry." Again. you shook your head. No one warned you about having a cambion and the risk it takes to be its parents. "I love you." But right now, your son and Yuta are the most important people in your life.

"I love you, too." And you're willing to throw everything in the past just to be happy with your small family.

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta horror #horror au #nct horror #nct 127 horror #yuta nakamoto horror #nakamoto yuta horror #nct 127 yuta horror #nct 127 yuta

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 1 “FartsApp” [Episode List] Since he’s a gassy nerd, Dave teases his friend Tim via WhatsApp by sending him a series of short videos of him farting.

FartsApp

Being gay with a fart fetish is really hard sometimes.

For me at least.

While the world is definitely getting more open-minded about homosexuality, I can’t really force it to accept this weird fetish (to be honest, all fetishes are kinda treated like taboos, regardless of the sexuality involved). I had to settle for YouTube videos or websites devoted to this whole fart-sniffing thing; not that I’m complaining: it was good to discover that so many people actually had this fetish.

Cue Dave. Well, sort of, actually. He doesn’t have a fart fetish and he’s not even gay. Dave has been my best friend since forever. Unlike me, however, he’s straight and is currently dating some (lucky) girl.

Around my age, he’s like a brother to me, and we’re actually well-known because of how much time we always spend with each other.

Dave is a great guy, a great friend, very open-minded and, dare to say it, actually quite hot.

Not surprisingly, being the brother I never had, he’s the first friend I came out to, the only one who knows about my homosexuality. Actually, it’s not like I told him… he found out on his own, in the worst possible way (for me).

During one of our nerdy game-nights, being “that one gassy friend”, Dave started to rip -as usual- tons of farts, fueled by some junk food, until he ripped one directly in my face (and boy it was amazing…). Everything went downhill from there… kinda. For some reason or another… he just accepted all at once not only my homosexuality, but also the fact that I found face-farting… hot. He just laughed about it and honestly gave me some encouraging words about my peculiar situation, proving that he’s indeed the best friend ever. Oh… and he also literally farted for me after that, in my face, letting me sniff and enjoy his amazing rips; he can also fart on command apparently: got a taste of his talent that same night.

That one, surreal night.

I still can’t believe it happened.

Felt like a confused dream. Like one of those nights where you drink too much so you don’t clearly remember what happened. But it was all true.

Dave, my best friend, was perfectly fine with me, my fetish, and all this weird stuff.

Yes: I know how lucky I am.

It’s been 4 months since he found out.

And, believe it or not, I’m getting face-farted so often that I’m almost forgetting how beautiful it feels.

Seriously: Dave simply accepted it like I’m living in someone’s crazy fetish dream and, when we’re alone, he just casually farts in my face (without me asking for it). Not always, but very often.

Surprisingly enough, despite the fact that my nose spends a lot of time brushing against his denim-covered butt, our friendship didn’t change at all though: we still hang out with the rest of our friends and generally spend a lot of time together.

Sometimes I’m so in disbelief about how easy-going he’s been with me, that I randomly ask him “You sure you’re OK with… this?” (I say, gesturing all of me), but he just smiles or rolls his eyes annoyed, tired of hearing the same question over and over again. What can I say? He’s perfectly comfortable with his own sexuality I guess, so he doesn’t have any problem with my fetish.

Sometimes though -sorry I say this- I kinda wish he did…

No, I’m definitely not complaining. That’s the best possible scenario for me, but sometimes he can get a bit too… inopportune. Dave is not really a prankster, but he loves teasing his friends, just for fun, including me.

I was in the middle of an important exam once, one of these pop-quiz thingies that make zero sense, and I felt my phone vibrate. I checked my FB private messages and all I saw was this YouTube link sent by Dave. Since I’m a fool apparently, I clicked on it, and one of those popular YouTube fart videos popped up and played, one with really loud farts. The first fart actually echoed in the room and other students glared at me: never felt so embarrassed (not including the night Dave found out about my fetish).

“Dude! Stop sending me this stuff!” I texted him. “I’m in the middle of an exam here!”

I scolded him for this, but the truth is that I couldn’t ask for a friend more open-minded than him.

The fact that he teases him with fart videos like he teases our heterosexual friends with those “shock” porn pics made me feel more… accepted.

But still… I was in the middle of an important exam so he had to stop.

And he obviously didn’t.

He sent me like 10 other links, just to annoy the sh%t out of me.

I mocked him by texting something like “Those videos are quite hard to find. Guess you’re gay too then!” but he would reply with “I had a great teacher!” and send me one of my awkward photos from Facebook.

Other times, since our friendship didn’t change a bit, he even made random references to my homosexuality or even my fart fetish when messaging me to make plans for the night (especially during the weekend). This mostly happens on WhatsApp:

Dave: “Dude, you have to come with us. Stop being a whiny little bi*ch and get up from that couch!”

Tim: “Sorry, man. I don’t think I’ll be joining you tonight…”

Dave: “You know what? If you don’t come with us… you’re gay!”

Dave: “Sorry, I mean… if you don’t come with us, you’re a fuc*ing heterosexual!

Dave: "U ride pussy, don’t you? Fuc*ing straight people!”

He was obviously being sarcastic, but I just loved how he adapted his… uhm… “humor” to my situation.

One time, however, things got a bit… hotter for me…

Dave: “Dude, come over. We have a lot to study…”

Tim: “Sorry, really can’t today. Aren’t you with Dana right now anyway?”

Dave: “I need somebody to focus with, not focus on. You know me and Dana always end up in bed after like 20 minutes.”

Dave: “It’s awesome but this stuff ain’t gonna study itself…”

Yep. Dave and his girlfriend Dana apparently had a very active sex life.

Glad he was getting laid. And Dana was pretty cool to be honest.

Tim: “Dave, sorry. Maybe tomorrow, k?”

Dave: “Dude! Come on! I’m farting like crazy today!”

Did… did he just try to “bribe” me using his farting abilities?

Dave: “Seriously. I just ripped one that was like 10 seconds long. What a waste of farts!”

Tim: “Dave… are you crazy?”

Took a couple of minutes to reply to that one, and then I got two messages at once.

Dave: “Oh yessss, Tim, crazy for youuuuuu!” he wrote, with a heart emoticon at the end (again, he’s a sassy bi*ch as usual).

I then saw that WhatsApp was loading a video sent by him, an actual video, not a link.

It was Dave, a smirk drawn on his face while staring at the camera. He was wearing a simple black shirt. The view soon moved and I saw his slightly sagging-butt in jeans sitting on a wooden chair, and then heard this big fart echoing in his living room (he was alone), rumbling loudly and hard on the wooden surface. He even turned the camera to his face while he was forcing the “classic”-sounding fart out, making funny facial expressions; indeed, the fart lasted almost 10 seconds, and I obviously loved that: biggest farts I’ve ever heard from him in awhile! It was like watching those funny fartvines on… well… Vine, but having my best friend as the funny/hot farter this time.

Dave: “Hope that convinced you…” he then texted.

I was kinda… “offended” by that last message.

I mean, yeah, I seriously wanted to be there, but I always love spending time with Dave, farts or not (that’s why we’ve been friends since… forever).

Tim: “Are you seriously using farts to buy my friendship? It’s not like I don’t want to study with you. I just can’t today!”

Was that too harsh? Should I have added a smiley face at the end?

Only thing I was sure of, is that I never thought that a sentence like that would even make sense someday.

And I was still bewildered by how Dave was so comfortable with the fact that I loved farts.

Tim: “You don’t need farts to convince me, Dave. More like… you’re making me suffer!” I joked, finally breaking the ice myself with a reference to my embarrassing fetish, proving that I indeed wanted to be there with him, enjoying those farts.

Another couple of minutes passed.

Was he making another…?

Dave: “I know you’re suffering, Tim. Don’t worry. That’s why I’m sending you this.”

Oh boy, another video. Should I play it? Was he aware that I was getting a boner from all of this?

I literally pitched a tent in my pants.

There… it’s Dave again, this time sitting on the couch. The video started with his face winking at the camera with a sly smile; the camera then moved between his legs and slowly panned towards his butt in loose jeans (he probably put his legs on the small table in front of his couch, to make his butt more visible). Now I had a rather unique (and hot -for me) view of both his butt (and part of his crotch) in jeans and his face. He grinned wildly and the fart began, ripped right in front of the phone. The sound and the views were perfect; Dave moved the camera towards his butt as the fart kept going strong, sounding like a deep trumpet; I could see the detailed blue fabric of his jeans as the funny sounds continued. What a lucky phone!

It lasted around 8 seconds and it was simply the hotness.

The video ended with Dave laughing at the camera and all went pitch black.

Tim: “You’re insane, Dave!” I joked again, enjoying how crazy he was about this. And for me I guess.

But I had to tell him.

Tim: “Dave, you do know that all of this gave me a… well…”

But as I was halfheartedly writing the second part of the message, Dave wrote more stuff.

Dave: “Then go beat your meat! I can’t do everything for you, Tim.”

Dave: “And please don’t act like this is some kind of big deal…

Dave: "Wow, Tim got a boner! How impressive!”

Dave: “Let’s all bow to Tim, the mighty guy whose penis can turn bigger!”

Dave: “Behold, the Great Tim! The guy who once had a boner and had to tell everyone!”

Further proof that Dave was being the best friend ever.

He was clearly being sarcastic; he was joking. That was his way of telling me “Nah bro, it’s all good”. And I was kinda surprised that he was so… chill about this stuff. I literally had a boner because of him and he just… didn’t care. As I said, he’s very open minded and perfectly comfortable with his own sexuality, so he didn’t have the irrational fear of “turning gay” when doing this stuff with and for me. I also appreciated that he trusted me with those funny, but otherwise embarrassing videos.

After one or two minutes, I’ve received one big audio file and I just knew what I was going to get when I clicked the triangular-shaped button to play them.

I heard Dave singing my name like he was some kind of serial killer trying to find me.

Dave: “Tim… come here…”

I then heard a series of muffled noises, as if the camera was being put under something, and it was clear what: I in fact then heard the loud, audio-glitching sound of one big fart that lasted around four seconds.

Dave: “He’s waiting for you…” he sung again in that creepy tone of voice.

Another fart, just as big as the first one.

He was on fire that day!

Now I was both laughing like an idiot and having the biggest boner.

Tim: “Dude, you’re on fire! But… to be honest, that was kinda gay…” I chuckled.

Dave: “Says the guy who gets a boner when he hears a fart. You fuc*ing hypocrite.”

He then sent yet another audio file, with him singing that meme-song “I’m gay, gay, gay, I love long big c*cks”, but slightly changing the lyrics. He even put a karaoke version of it on his computer while recording the audio file.

Dave: “You are gay, gay gay, you love long big farts. ‘cuz you’re supah-super gay, and you love big…”

Fittingly enough, a huge fart from my best friend took over the last part of the song. Loud as usual, sounding like a deep chainsaw. I could just imagine how beautiful that was. But the best part was probably the fact that he was definitely farting for me. I know, not your usual “hot sexy” scenario… more like a “sweet” one, in a very twisted way of course.

I wasn’t obviously offended by that “gay song”, since I knew that Dave was just being silly as usual and his mocking words were definitely not mean-spirited.

Tim: “Aren’t you supposed to be studying right now?” I asked.

Dave: “I don’t know, aren’t you supposed to be here right now?”

Tim: “Dude, seriously. Thank you! But I’m serious… I really can’t today.”

Dave: “Alright… alright… cya tonight faggot…” he wrote, with a heart-shaped emoticon at the end.

I just rolled my eyes and chuckled a bit, then drove my attention to my own books.

This was going to be a long afternoon. But after only one minute of silence, my phone vibrated wildly: it was Dave and he was calling me. Very unusual in that moment.

“Uhm… Dave? Hello?” I picked up.

I was greeted by a series of “Dude, sorry!” and I was really confused.

“Dave… what?”

It was just Dave being adorkable I guess.

“Dude, sorry about that 'faggot'… that was bit too much, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I laughed in disbelief. “Bro, it’s OK. I’m not offended. I know you didn’t want to insult me or anything…”

“No, Tim. That one word is not a joke and I shouldn’t have used it, sorry.”

I was just… wow. Dave went from “dominant friendly farter” to “adorable/awkward confused puppy” in mere seconds. Further proof that I was the luckiest guy alive (fetish or not): Dave cared so much for me that he even apologized for the “f-word”, which admittedly is a very bad word for a guy like me. But this time it was coming from Dave, my best friend, a guy who cares so much about me that he would even “censor” his language just to avoid unfortunate implications.

Ironically enough, the roles were switched, and he was the one saying a rapid-fire series of “sorry!” this time.

“Dave, quit with the apologizing. You’re the best.” I chuckled. “We’re bros, that’s what we do: we insult each other!”

“Alright… you sure? Not going to use that word ever again though.”

“Dave… it’s OK. You’re the best.”

“OK… OK. See you tonight. Take care.”

And he hang up.

He just wanted to make sure that he didn’t accidentally offend me by calling me a “fag”.

I would have been, if it wasn’t coming from Dave.

But then again, he also said that he was going to kick in the face whoever dared to insult me.

And he said that before he found out the truth about me: he’s always been quite protective.

“Oh come on!” I shouted, almost annoyed, merely five minutes later, when I heard the phone vibrate one more time.

It was Dave. Again.

He sent another video.

I tried to scoff at it but I was obviously loving all of this instead.

He was lying on the couch, the camera focusing on his butt in jeans. I could see both his face and butt, at the same time. It was like he filmed the video imagining my POV when he farted in my face, and I absolutely enjoyed that.

“Alright, Tim… Sorry for calling you a faggot.” he spoke in a “comically” serious voice. He truly was “sorry”, but it was clear that he was trying not to laugh. “I’m really, really sorry, believe me.”

Keeping a straight face, he ripped an incredibly loud, deep fart at the camera. He didn’t bat an eye, blink or smile. He eventually lost it towards the end of that 6-seconds long blast. He chuckled a bit and then turned “serious” again.

“That was a sad fart… we’re both sorry.”

He then closed his eyes and made a funny face, signing in relief as he ripped another long fart, the lucky camera slowly panning towards the seams and textures of the blue denim covering his powerful sagging butt. It lasted almost 10 seconds: truly a fart master. And those weren’t even on command!

“Oh my…” I whispered, staring in awe at the amazing video.

“This one was on the house…” he chuckled, right before turning the phone to his butt one last time and ripping a short series of toots, grinning wildly, clearly forcing those smaller farts out just for me. And that was it.

My boner was definitely wet now as bits of that well-known white substance poured from the tip of of my “standing” dick, slightly dampening my boxers and pants. It was like a volcano going to explode. A volcano that, just like me, couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed to the bathroom and furiously beat my meat, almost strangling my rock-hard penis with a firm grip. I didn’t last much: I literally peed sperm, thinking of Dave’s farts. The best part is that I didn’t need to imagine anything: it was all real. I laughed in relief just as I felt my penis deflating like a balloon, after it vomited its white substance. It felt good, not “masturbation good”, like “life is good”. And it was.

My best friend, Dave, was this fantastic guy who, in his own, twisted way, was taking care of me, accepting me, making me comfortable with my fart fetish. A gassy, open-minded, mildly disgusting “bro” who only wanted to preserve our friendship.

And I couldn’t be happier.

End of Episode 1

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

Text

the solution is outsourcing // fred weasley

Summary: the reader is awkward… really awkward, but quite brilliant, really. Maybe that’s why Fred’s so interested

Request: hi lovely, love your writing! can i req a fluffy fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader please? maybe the reader knows something that’ll help him with a prank or something?

A/N: I had such a hard time writing this if not purely because I fell down a hunger games rabbit hole and felt like I was 12 again BUT ALSO halfway through this I was creasing because I kept having to tell myself that I absolutely could not name this ‘the highs and lows of high school quidditch’

Reader: Ravenclaw

Warnings: 1 swear word maybe?

Hogwarts, as you discovered pretty early on, was not at as boring as most schools in the area. First of all, there weren’t any other schools in the area due to it being a castle nestled just within the Scottish Highlands and all. Secondly, being a school for wizards, it had its fair share of perks that came with the territory: from learning about thestrals to broomsticks to sleeping draughts and everything in between, life at Hogwarts had a certain je ne sais quoi that most schools just weren’t cut out for.

After the second time Harry Potter, a boy in the year below, was almost killed, you figured that Hogwarts’ flair came less from its magical subjects and more from the drama of constant near-death experiences. Regardless, though, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Amidst the chaos, it was easy to forget sometimes that Hogwarts was still a school. A school full of teenagers. A school full of incredibly gifted and incredibly impressionable teenagers.

Not only were you extremely blessed to be learning all that you were but you were also fairly bright, and so you were often very dedicated to your studies, making sure to soak up all the knowledge you could from every possible source. But even you weren’t immune to the consequences of a high school social hierarchy; a fact that would probably explain why your mouth was drying up faster than the Sahara Desert watching Fred Weasley across the room.

He always had this look in his eye like he knew something everyone else didn’t, you thought, your attention divided somewhat unequally between him and your History of Magic textbook. He also always managed to look attractive. You hummed as he turned, starting to approach your table. Wait, what? Your table?

Undeniably, Fred was one of the most popular boys in school.

Both handsome and hilarious, he and his twin brother George were infamous for their pranks and notorious for their quidditch playing. Everybody knew who they were and if they didn’t, they would soon enough.

Your friends, usually so engrossed in their own discussions, grew silent and your hands stilled on your textbook, your fingers pinching at the old pages. It’s not like you often watched Fred Weasley across the courtyard… or classrooms… or the Great Hall.

Well.

To your defence, though, you were usually a lot less obvious and he was usually a lot less heading in your direction.

Why was he coming over to your bench? He probably wasn’t, you thought. It was probably just a detour. Or a prank. You swallowed, unable to tear your eyes off of him. The courtyard was loud with chatter, but you’d wager your heartbeat was louder. Why was he still heading your way?

“Hi,” he said leisurely, crossing his arms over one another as he stood next to your bench. His lean muscles strained under his jumper and though your perspective was warped by your goo-goo eyes and the fact you were sat down, it was still fairly obvious that he was tall. He had the aura of someone tall, you decided, and if his crooked grin was anything to go by, he was apparently completely aware of the effect he had on you and everyone else, for that matter.

You looked behind you, your confusion growing when you found only air and realised that he was, in fact, talking to you.

You frowned, your lips puckering as you tried to form a word, any word.

“What?”

Maybe not that word. In fact, maybe any other word would have been better.

“Uh,” he said, leaning backwards and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Hi?”

You cursed yourself under your breath.

“Hello?” you replied, your tone unsure.

“I’m Fred,” he said, his uneasy expression replaced quickly with the same charming smile.

Before your brain could catch up with your mouth, you scoffed. “I know.”

“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath, blinking and swallowing back the dryness in your throat. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

The amused smirk playing on his lips almost definitely blew a fuse in your brain.

“I’ve been looking for you actually,” he said, placing his hand on your table and leaning over.

If his words weren’t enough to send you over the edge, his proximity plummeted your brain into some alternate reality where it was unavoidable to say awkward things to attractive strangers.

“Well, it’s your lucky day!” you chimed, your cheerful grin dying on your lips as you heard your own words. Why you couldn’t just behave normally was beside you.

Fred didn’t seem to mind nor notice how painfully awkward you felt.

“Isn’t it just?” he said, his surprised expression relaxing into a smirk. He turned to one of your friends opposite you and pointed to the empty space next to him. “D’you mind if I sit here, mate?”

“’Course not,” your friend said, shooting you an entertained smile and sliding up so Fred could sit facing you. His knees touched yours as he clambered over the bench.

“Now,” Fred said, his tone serious as a decidedly playful glint flickered in his eyes. “I need your help.”

You opened your mouth, probably sucking all of the air out of the quad in the process as your eyebrows knitted together. You didn’t think Fred Weasley even knew who you were. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for your brain-cells to cooperate to form a reply.

“My sister says you’re a genius. I’ll assume that’s true; I’ve never seen anyone actually read this,” he gestured towards your textbook with a lopsided smirk. “So, are you actually a mastermind or are you just fooling the rest of us?”

His eyes were so bright as he spoke, so expectant as well. Expectant? Oh, a question.

You let your gaze trail down his face slowly. His eyes were warmer up close, you thought, and he had lots of tiny freckles.

“Hello?” he said, waving his hand in front of you with a half-smile and an amused frown.

“Um,” you stalled, swallowing. “Your sister. Oh, yes, Ginny. Your sister. Ginny Weasley.”

You nodded, letting your mind catch up to the conversation and avoiding any glances towards his smiling features. “I tutored her last year. Can’t see why: she didn’t need my help. She’s rather sharp herself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred rushed, already bored of the topic of his sister as he dismissed you and leant in closer. “She said that you were brilliant, though. Especially at Charms.”

Your face warmed at his words and Fred watched rather curiously as you looked away, placing your hands into your lap and fiddling with your quill under the table.

“I’m pretty good,” you said, mulling it over. “I think Flitwick just likes me.”

“Yeah, right, anyway,” he snorted disbelievingly. He pursed his lips before leaning forward on his elbows. “I need your help with a charm for a prank.”

“A prank?”

“A prank, indeed.”

You looked to your left, watching your friends pretend not to listen to your conversation. Your brain hadn’t fully caught on to idea yet that you were sat even in close proximity to Fred Weasley, let alone that you were talking to him. And now he wanted you to help him? You couldn’t decide whether stranger things had happened.

“Please?” he said, tilting his head to the side and widening his eyes. Before he sat down at your table, you didn’t know Fred Weasley; you only knew of Fred Weasley and so, what you didn’t know was that he was born with a gift. A gift that involved possessing a pair of the world’s greatest puppy dog eyes. He watched smugly as your indecision faltered and you cracked a smile at his silly expression. Something stirred in his chest at the sight of you.

“What’s the prank?” you asked, keeping up the façade of reservation. Fred knew, though: he’d got you hooked.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, waving your hands around wildly. Your friends had long since disappeared from the courtyard, off to their classes or to study elsewhere. “How are you going to give him the hair dye?”

“Ah,” Fred sighed animatedly, stretching his back from his hunched-over position. “That’s for me to know, isn’t it?”

You smiled, pursing your lips together as you shared a conspiratorial look.

Being around Fred, it seemed, was much easier than first anticipated. When you got over the initial shock of him a) knowing you exist and b) talking to you, you found yourself falling into a comfortable rhythm, a light banter of ideas. Every so often, though, you were struck by the slope of his nose or the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were lucky, you realised, that you had such a good excuse to distract you from just staring at him the whole time.

“Alright,” you said tightly, frowning at the parchment you had ripped out to scribble notes on. Fred’s eyes followed your face. “I think I can do it.”

“Really?”

His face lit up and your stomach dropped at how cute he looked, butterflies fluttering in its wake.

“How?”

Your brows drew together and you bit your lip, fingers drumming lightly on the paper.

“Let me-“ you said, standing up abruptly and circling around the otherwise empty bench, slotting yourself beside him without a second thought.

“Right, so I think that if you take a simple transfiguration charm and then layer it-“ You paused as a deep crease imprinted on Fred’s forehead. “Look,” you insisted, leaning closer to him and pushing your notes around, using your finger to point at your words. “All you have to do really is layer the charms to make them harder to undo and then…”

Fred didn’t listen to the rest. He couldn’t, really. Not when he could feel your warmth next to him, your shoulder pressed against his and your breath fanning against his cheek every time you looked up. He couldn’t figure out how he never noticed you before. Gruffly, he swallowed, forcing himself to pay attention.

“You top it all off with a pre-emptive counter charm and the hair dye will last a while,” you nodded, pleased with your work. “His hair will probably grow out sooner than he can fix the colour.”

Turning to Fred, only slightly surprised that he was already looking at you, you grinned as he let out a deep throaty chuckle.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he muttered, shaking his head with his tongue poking out between his lips. “You are bloody brilliant.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he snatched up the piece of parchment, swung his legs over the bench and raced off, his cheerful demeanour almost making up for the way your heart sank at him leaving. You watched him disappear down the corridor and sighed, letting your head loll backwards. The idea that things would just go back to how they were plagued your mind as you packed away your books, resting your knees on the bench.

He’d always be Fred Weasley, the most popular boy in school, and you’d just be you. Back to normal.

“Oh,” Fred said breathlessly as he appeared behind you. You couldn’t help the smile that lifted your cheeks as you raised your eyebrow.

Your smile dropped, though, when he leant closer and pressed his lips ever so delicately to your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact and you could feel the rush of blood to your face.

“I’ll find a way to thank you for your help,” he said, beaming at your surprised expression. “Promise.”

It took a week for them to finalise the prank, it seemed. You wondered whether you’d just missed the outcome until one morning, Draco Malfoy stormed into the Great Hall with a scowl and bright orange hair. His entrance was met with whistles and cheers and as you looked over at the Gryffindor table, your eyes widened as they met Fred’s. Whilst his brother and their friends laughed and jeered, he just grinned at you. With a small burst of courage, you waved. He pursed his lips in amusement before he lifted up a paper aeroplane in his hand, gesturing to throw it.

Your eyebrows creased at the idea, but you watched with your heart beating in your chest as the aeroplane soared over to you, dropping gently onto your empty plate. Looking up at Fred, you frowned, unable to keep the smile off of your face. He urged you to open it, making faces as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’.

You chuckled; the paper rough on your fingertips as you unfolded it. Written in rather jaunty handwriting, was a simple question signed off with a simple ‘-F’.

You, me, Hogsmeade, this weekend?

You could’ve got whiplash from how quickly your head shot up. Even from so far away, the nervousness and anticipation on Fred’s face were beyond evident and painfully endearing. You nodded, biting your lip to suppress your smile. You’d have thought it was infectious given his own shit-eating grin. He shot you a wink and turned back to his friends and you found yourself working out exactly how long you had until your date with nonother than Fred Weasley.

harry potter tag list: (added later bc braincells - some didnt work)

@creator-appreciator @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness @xinyourdreamsx @brainlesspasta @hariosborn @staringmoony @rexorangecouny @alittletoomanyobsessions @peachesandpinks @yuptha-tsme @obsessedwithrandomthings @dreamer821 @iprobablyshipit91 @in-slytherin-we-trust @haphazardhufflepuff @princesof-theuniverse @whovianayesha @msmimimerton @extra-trash77 @potterverseimagine @my-own-mindpalace @sxrensxngwrites @damonwhitlock @susceptible-but-siriusexual @answer-the-sirens @thisismysketchbook @ickle-ronniekins @harrysweasleys

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter #imagine #writing

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vanderlustwords · 5 years ago

Text

Under the Sheets

(not my gif)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 9) There’s only one bed, and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling

Requester: Anonymous

Summary: Bucky spends more time out of his dorm than in it with how much his roommate amorously makes love to his girlfriend. Luckily, his cute across-the-hall neighbor is generous about lending her place to him. Bucky’s unsure if he wants to hug or kiss his roommate for putting him in the situation he is in now.

Note: Thank you for sending this in! :) This trope is the OG.

Count: 3948

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You would say that every meeting you've had with James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes is always a series of unfortunate events.

The first time was when you were locked outside of your dorm room because you're an idiot without a roommate. Since it wasn't your first incident, you were very reluctant to call the campus security guard to let you in. You're pretty sure he hates you.

Luckily, across the hall, you had some new neighbors.

"You must be James-"

"Bucky, please," he offers you an easy, charming smile.

"Bucky, nice to meet you," you smiled back.

You had been standing outside your door for quite sometime when Bucky came back, explaining how Steve was out with his girlfriend. As it would be, Bucky knew how to pick a locked door open. You only got a laugh when you asked him about such questionable skills he had.

The next time you met Bucky was when you spilled your grocery bags all over the floor before entering into your building. Bucky seemed to just arrive home from his afternoon classes.

"This is so embarrassing," you muttered with flushed cheeks as Bucky helped you pick everything up.

"Well, no use crying over spilled milk."

"I haven't bought milk," you joked, causing him to laugh. Bucky had helped you carry your groceries in.

"No roommate?" He looked around the place, seeing how the extra room you had turned into a study room.

"Nope! Well, I mean, I had one earlier in the year, but she moved out after 3 months to transfer to another university. They didn't assign me with anyone else."

"Lucky," Bucky sighed.

"Roommate problems?" You raised your brow. You had come to know that Bucky and Steve have been friends since they were in diapers, now seemingly grown and going to university together too.

It seemed hard to believe the two friends would not like rooming together.

"Not problems, per se," Bucky licked his lips. "Just Steve likes to bring Peggy over a lot, and she stays the night often. I guess her roommate is kind of a psychopath."

You nodded slowly and understandingly. It was probably difficult to get studying done or sleep with hearing your roommate fuck at night.

"Well," you offer him a nervous smile, "you are always welcome here if you need the space to study."

"Thanks, doll."

It seems after that, Bucky took your offer quite seriously. Over the next few weeks, he would show up to your place in the evening needing some quiet to work on his papers and upcoming tests.

You certainly didn't mind the company, sometimes having the place to yourself could be a little lonely when everyone else had their roommates to hang out with.

It was almost kind of nice—an easy friendship brewing between the two of you.

The thought of dating never really crossed your mind because you weren't ignorant of the fact that Bucky was wildly popular across campus. Steve was too, but Peggy Carter was also wildly popular herself, making them a dream couple.

So, all sorts of people were trying to put themselves on Bucky's radar.

And, well, you were just you.

You were just flittering through your university life. You had friends, of course, game nights were on Friday, and went out on the occasional weekend to drink.

Really, the only time you got to spend time with Bucky was within your dorm building.

"I brought takeout!" Bucky holds up thick bags with food. You can smell the contents right away and smile.

"Thai food?" You smile, hopeful, in case you're somehow wrong.

Bucky grins at you as you let him in. He puts the bags on the counter, and you help him take the things out.

"Yeah, I saw you staring at their building while I was on the way to class the other day," he laughs. "How long did you stand there?"

You felt your cheeks warm at being caught by someone.

"Only ten minutes," you mumble.

Bucky licks his tongue against his bottom lip, smiling at you as he takes a seat.

You moan, almost a little inappropriately when you take your first bite.

"God, it's been way too long," you sigh happily as you munch away.

Bucky laughs, "For someone who likes Thai food so much, I don't see you eat it too often."

You shrug. "Thai food is one of those things where there's a lot of dishes that are shared. My friends, unfortunately, don't share my love for Thai food."

"Blasphemous!" Bucky gasps dramatically and jokingly, but you follow along with a firm nod.

"That's what I've been saying!"

Bucky grins. "Alright, how about your boyfriend?"

You roll your head over to Bucky with a look. "I think as often as you spend here, you should know by now I don't have one."

"Just checking," Bucky shrugs. "Any particular reason why?"

You quirk your brow at him. "Well, I'll tell you if you tell me why you haven't got a girl. Lord knows you don't have a shortage of options."

Bucky chuckles as he looks at you, scooping more food into your mouth. His eyes soften for just a moment.

"Just waiting on the right girl is all," he says, looking back at his food when you look up at him.

"Ah, then we're two peas in a pod," you smile, "I'm also waiting for the right person, and unfortunately, the only guys on my roster right now are frat boys."

You scrunch your face a little, and Bucky lets out a burst of laughter at your expression.

"Any particular reason for that?" He asks.

"One of my friends is in a sorority," you sigh. "She thinks she can get me to join if she shoves hot guys my way. I'm actually going to get dragged to a party on Saturday."

"Well," Bucky licks his lip, "is it working?"

"Not even in the slightest," you smirk.

Bucky grins.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

"I don't want to study anymore, my brain is melting," Bucky groans as he leans back against your couch with his head facing the ceiling.

His eyes shut as he tries to make all the words disappear from his head, and you laugh at him.

"It's only been two hours," you point out. "Don't you have a huge test on Saturday afternoon?"

"I can't," Bucky moans dramatically. "I can't anymore. I should accept my inevitable doom and fail."

You roll your eyes with a smile as you lean forward and close his books. "Alright, drama queen. I think you just need a break. Why don't we just put on a movie?"

"Annnnd, now my brain is unmelting," Bucky sits up with an excited twinkle in his eye.

You end up watching three movies, but by the third movie, you fall asleep.

Bucky sits there, eyes drifting to you with ease as the movie plays on.

You snored a little, causing him to smile involuntarily.

Alright, Bucky admits, you were just beyond adorable to him.

But finding the right person also takes time.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Friday night is game night.

Your friends get much too rowdy as you try to quiet them down, knowing Bucky is probably trying to study across the hall.

One of your friends drinks way too much and ends up passing out on the couch, dead to the world.

"Alright, let's call it a night," you yawn as you stand up and stretch. It's well past 1 AM as your friends get up.

"Should we wake him?" One of your friends asks.

"Nah, just leave him. I don't even know if he will wake up," you and your friends share a quick laugh as they leave your building.

"Don't forget we have the party tomorrow," your friend, Mary Jane, pulls you in for a hug.

"Right," you drawl, "Another attempt to find me a gross, frat boyfriend?"

"I mean, show me another guy on your roster, and I won't try to drag you to these parties," Mary Jane laughs.

You made some noise of agreement as you pat her back before she lets go, walking to the door and giving you a little wave before leaving.

You stretch again before you go to your closet to bring out an extra blanket and set it over your friend. You grab a glass of water and some Advil because you know that poor sucker will feel it tomorrow.

You look in the fridge and groan when you see you've run out of eggs. Typically, you wouldn't mind getting them in the morning, but your friend was someone who needed food immediately when they were hungover. You weren't willing to wake up any earlier to get the eggs in the morning, so you closed the fridge and got ready to head to the 24-hour convenience store down the block.

You were casually scrolling through your phone as you left your apartment. When you opened the door, you could hear some...sounds from Bucky's apartment, and you felt instant pity for the man. You were ready to leave the building when a figure sitting in the lobby scared the shit out of you.

"Holy fuc--Bucky?"

Bucky looked up with slightly bleary eyes, and it looks like he was still studying as he had his textbook in his lap along with his notebook.

"Oh, what are you doing down here?" He asked, sounding rather tired.

"What are you doing down here?" You retorted. "It's almost 2 AM. Don't you have a huge test tomorrow?"

"...Steve and Peggy had a fight..." Bucky pressed his lips together, and you don't need to ask further that the noises you heard earlier were them making up.

You wheedle from foot to foot while you look at Bucky. He looks exhausted, and you feel awful he's been sitting out here for God knows how long.

"How long were you out here for?"

"I don't know," Bucky shrugs, "Couple hours?"

You sigh. "Why didn't you just let me know. You could've come over."

"It was game night for you, wasn't it?" Bucky blinks because he was pretty sure he saw your sorority friend leave about 10 minutes ago.

You let out a pretty deep sigh, holding your hand out in front of him.

He scrunches his brows.

"C'mon," you wiggle your fingers, "come get some eggs with me, and you can crash at my place tonight."

Bucky gives you a light grin as he closes his textbook and grabs your hand as you put very little effort into pulling him up.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

There's a body.

In the place where Bucky thought he was going to sleep.

You don't seem to pay any mind to it as you put the eggs and orange juice away in the fridge.

Bucky is thinking a mile a minute.

The couch was taken, and the extra room you had was turned into a study room.

Was he supposed to sleep on the carpet? Were you going to give him a sleeping bag?

"Hey," Bucky grabs your attention, "Where should I crash?"

You shut the fridge door, running your hand through your hair as you make your way to your room.

"We can just bunk in the same bed," you say with a shrug, and Bucky thinks he might have a heart attack.

"You're okay with that?" Bucky asks slowly.

You shrug again, "Yeah, I bunk with people all the time. Don't you? It's like part of the university experience."

Bucky doesn't know how to say that he's probably doing more than just sleeping when he bunks with someone.

You turn around and lean at your doorframe, quirking your brow with a smirk.

"Don't tell me you aren't enough of an adult to share a bed with me."

Getting a rise out of Bucky seems to work as Bucky stalks into your bedroom.

"I'll show you an adult," he mutters childishly, and you roll your eyes with a smile.

And although Bucky says such big words, he's lying stiff as a board on the bed. He lies as close to the edge as possible without falling with his back turned to you, and you can't help but chuckle a little.

"You can unclench, you know. I hardly doubt you'll get some rest if you lie there like a metal rod," you say, but you're also lying pretty close to the edge with your back turned to him, though not as stiff.

It's silent for a moment, but eventually, you feel the bed shift a little as Bucky relaxes.

It's silent again, and you feel yourself starting to fall asleep.

"Who was that on your couch?" Bucky asks, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" You hum, opening your eyes slightly. "Oh, just a friend. He usually doesn't come to game night, but his boyfriend is visiting back home this weekend. He went a little too hard on the drinks."

"He's gay?"

"Yeah, got a problem?" You ask almost daring Bucky to say he does.

"Definitely not," Bucky smiles.

It's silent again.

"So--"

"Go to sleep, dumbass, you have a test in the morning," you say without opening your eyes. You hear Bucky chuckle softly.

"Goodnight, doll."

"Goodnight," you smile.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Warm.

Bucky felt warm. Maybe a little too warm.

He hasn't opened his eyes yet, but he can feel sunlight hitting his face and hear the birds chirping outside.

Bucky takes a deep breath in and feels shifting in his arms. He moves a little, pulling the warmth in closer.

He roughly hums in the back of his throat when he feels lips press against his collarbone.

It hits him like a freight train.

Bucky immediately opens his eyes, his body becoming rigid again as you come into view.

What started with the two of you sleeping at the furthest edges of the bed with your backs turned to each other ended up being the very opposite.

Sometime during the middle of the night, the two of you gravitated towards the middle of the bed. You were wrapped up in his arms, head just under his chin. He could feel your breath on the base of this throat, and it was giving him goosebumps.

Your hands were wrapped around his back, gripping his shirt slightly. Bucky couldn't even move too much with your legs intertwined with his. A groan wanted to escape his lips with his thigh wedged between your legs.

Bucky tried to move slowly without waking you.

He really did.

But then you let out a whine, holding him tighter and clenching your legs to lock his thigh in.

"Stop moving," you whined.

God, Bucky doesn't think he'll make it. He's already got morning wood, and this is too much.

He calls your name in an attempt to wake you up.

"Doll, you gotta get up, I have a test soon," he says instead when you hardly react to him calling your name.

This time, you do blearily open your eyes with a huff.

You untangle yourself from him as Bucky lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Sitting up, you let out a yawn and let out a big stretch, your shirt riding a little up as you do.

You look at your clock.

"Alright, there's about an hour before your test. Eat some breakfast before you go."

"It's really fin--"

"Break. fast."

You leave the room, and Bucky is left sitting there by himself. The morning passes quickly as you make breakfast. The sounds nor the smell seem to wake your friend up.

"Good luck on your test!" You smile at him as you make him a breakfast sandwich for him to go.

Bucky smiles back with a 'thanks' before he leaves your place confused.

Did this morning not affect you at all? Did you not see him as a man?

Bucky was distracted during the whole test.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You held your smile until you heard the footsteps fade from your door.

After that, you nearly screamed. You stalked over to your hungover friend and whipped a pillow into his face.

"Ack!" He wakes up, nearly falling off the couch. He groans instantly when he sees your face.

"I'm so hungover, oh my god," your friend moans.

Your face feels hot as it's flushed in embarrassment. "This is all your fault for drinking too much and crashing on the couch! I should've pushed you onto the floor!"

You let out a groan before you stalked off to the washroom, closing the door.

Your friend sits up, looking at the plate of eggs and bacon on the table.

"What'd I do?"

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

The entire day leading up to the party is spent with you trying to contain your embarrassment. You're trying to repress the memory of being pressed up against Bucky and clingy.

You didn't hear from Bucky after his test, and you were much too mortified to say anything, so you hadn't texted him either.

"You look constipated, please take some shots and relax," Mary Jane hands you tequila with a lime slice.

You shoot back the shot without hesitation.

"Alright," Mary Jane whistles, "Do I even want to know what's got your panties in a knot?"

"Nope," you shake your head.

"Alright, fair enough. Get some more drinks and mingle!" Mary Jane turns her attention past you. You look behind and see her current boyfriend, Harry, enter the room with kegs.

You sigh when Mary Jane looks at you with puppy eyes.

"Go," you tell her. She squeals and kisses you on the cheek before rushing off.

You do flitter through the party, catching up with some friends, and getting some drinks.

As embarrassed as you are, the last thing you want is to get sloppy, so you don't overdo it.

But as you already know, luck is never on your side.

Especially when you see Bucky walking into the party. People are getting excited and rushing up to say hi to him because Bucky rarely goes to frat parties.

The two of you lock eyes instantly, and the memory of this morning rushes back, and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you.

'Play it cool,' you tell yourself as you turn back to the group of people you're standing with.

You're not even sure what they've been talking about, and there's no way you could focus on that now.

Bucky doesn't seem to be rushing up to you either. He's drinking a beer with Harry as a crowd surrounds them.

You can see girls in the back looking at him and whispering, and you feel the burn in your gut now for some reason.

God, were you such a cliché that sharing a bed with Bucky actually made you think that way about him?

The night seems to continue on, and even though you keep catching eyes with Bucky, neither of you seems willing to make the first move.

You head over to the bar to get more drinks when someone approaches you and orders you a drink.

You internally groan.

Brock Rumlow.

A real piece of work.

He made it into Theta Chi, well-known to be a troublemaker.

He was known to sleep around and make unwanted advances towards girls and was hardly passing his classes.

Brock had turned his attention to you lately, which you flat out rejected him. It helped that you were friends with Mary Jane, who was dating Harry, the president of Theta Chi, and could tell Brock to back off.

But Brock Rumlow liked to push his boundaries.

"You look pretty good tonight, did you dress pretty for me?" He smirks at you, and you roll your eyes.

"Fuck off, Rumlow. I already told you I'm not interested," you look away, not bothering to take the drink he ordered for you.

"Now don't be like that, you haven't even gotten to know me yet," Brock leans against the counter close to you.

"And as I've explicitly told you, no," you whip your head back and glare at him.

You're about to walk off and see if you could find Mary Jane and Harry when Brock grabs your arm.

"What the fuck-" You start to say when another arm comes into view, grabbing Brock's wrist.

You look over to see Bucky standing there with his lip pressed into a thin line as he grips Brock's wrist hard enough until he lets go.

"Ow--what's your problem, dude?" Brock holds his wrist before shaking the pain off.

"Keep your hands off her," Bucky cocks his brow as he stands in front of you.

"How about you mind your business," Brock glares at him. "What? Are you her boyfriend?"

Bucky is standing so close to you that you can see his muscles tense, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around him from behind.

"Yes," you interrupt as Bucky lifts his arm over you and then around you so that you're tucked by his side. "He is my boyfriend."

You look up with a loving smile, trying to play the part when you find Bucky's steel-blue eyes gazing back at you.

He licks his lips, teeth dragging over his bottom lip, you swear so slowly before he smirks and looks back at Brock.

"So," Bucky keeps smiling, "fuck off."

"You could've just said you had a boyfriend," Brock grumbles at you like it's your fault somehow.

"My girlfriend doesn't have to say anything. Do you need to be taken back to elementary school to understand what 'no' or 'I'm not interested' means?" Bucky cocks his brow, and Brock sneers at him.

He looks like he wants to cause a scene, but Bucky is a well-known guy around campus, even if he's not in a fraternity house. Brock knows nothing good would come from starting a fight with Bucky, and he's already on thin ice with Harry.

And Bucky knows that.

So, he turns to you with a smile.

"C'mon, doll, let's get out of here."

As you get ready to leave, Bucky turns to Brock once more with a steely look on his face.

"Stay the fuck away from my girl."

Bucky actually leads you out of the party, saying a brief goodbye to Harry and Mary Jane, who wiggles her brows at you, and you're so grateful to have left.

The two of you walk silently but slowly back to the apartment, and you've got your arms wrapped around your midsection.

You cough, bringing Bucky's attention to you as you come to a stop under the streetlight.

"Thanks," you say a little awkwardly, "for you know, playing along."

Bucky smiles lightly.

"If those are the kind of guys on your roster, I think you should expand your horizons a little."

"Not all of us can have a guy like you on our list, but I'll take that under advisement."

You laugh, trying to play it off as a joke because even though it was all just pretend for a moment, being pressed up against Bucky as his girlfriend shouldn't have felt as good as it did.

"You can add me to your roster."

The words were said so smoothly you had almost missed it. You turn your head to Bucky, who's standing there with his hands in his pockets.

"What?" You say unsurely, convinced you might've heard him wrong.

"I told you I was waiting for the right girl," Bucky smiles, "I'm waiting for you, doll."

You feel an explosion of butterflies in your stomach, cheeks heating up as you process Bucky's words.

Every meeting you've had with Bucky is a series of unfortunate events.

And perhaps between every moment, while waiting for the right guy to come along, it only took waking up in his arms to realize maybe he was there all along.

#v.myfic #g.fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #avengers imagine #modern avengers au #avengers au #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine

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my-unmanageable-mischief · 4 years ago

Text

Truth or Dare

For the Anon who requested : Hey! Could I request a fic where Harry has a cute puppy love on this popular, pure-blood Slytherin reader? Maybe her friends set the reader up to play with Harry and break his heart in like a bet but then y/n starts actually liking him??

Harry Potter x Slytherin!Reader

You took a swig of fire whiskey, before passing it to your dorm mate who took a gulp between giggles. It was your first night back at Hogwarts and you and your dormmates were celebrating with drinks and games; truth or dare of course.

“Okay, okay, it’s Y/N’s turn. Truth or dare?” Your roommate asked and you smirked, leaning back on your elbows.

“Dare.”

“OoooOOoo,” They all sang, giggling and leaning on each other for support, you rolled your eyes but joined in on the giggling.

“Alright, I got one!” Your best friend spoke up with a sinister grin, and you knew that look. You didn’t like that look.

“Oh no,”

“I dare you,” She paused for dramatic effect, “To pretend to date Potter!” Everyone broke out into hysterics at that.

“A Gryffindor!” One of the girls hollered, spitting out her mouth full of firewhiskey, “Brilliant!”

“Come on,” You complained, “That’s mean.”

“Everyone knows he likes you,” Your best friend grinned, “He doesn’t ever stop staring at you, just ask him out. Date him for a week, then break his heart.”

“Make it a month.” One of the girls countered. “Let him get really into it, then just tell him it was a prank.” You frowned feeling slightly bad. You might’ve been a bitch, but you weren’t evil. And your friend was right, everyone knew Harry Potter, the boy who lived, had a huge crush on you. You thought it weird he was in love with a Slytherin girl, but you were pretty and popular amongst all the houses, even the Gryffindors didn’t find you terribly obnoxious. But this was too far.

“No,”

“You can’t say no, you picked dare.” You groaned, accepting the bottle when it made it’s way back to you. You drank from it, allowing it to burn at your throat.

“Fine but only a week.”

“A month.”

“Two weeks!” You argued.

“Three, and you have to snog him!” You handed the bottle to someone else and laid back on the floor, looking to the ceiling.

“You’re terrible.” It wasn’t that you disliked Potter, you had nothing against the boy, but you definitely didn’t want to date him, let along snog the bloke. He wasn’t ugly or anything, just not your type. Besides, he had barely ever spoken a word to you. Whenever you were in his presence he became a stammering mess, three weeks of that sounded like torture.

“Fine.”

“Do it tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” And with that, your deal was set in stone.

The next morning you and your friends sat huddled at the Slytherin table, whispering to each other.

“Do it now,”

“No way, I can’t just go up and be like, ‘oi potter care to be my boyfriend?’ He won’t buy it.” You argued, fidgeting nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear. You looked over at the group of Gryffindors and caught Potter staring at you for the millionth time, he immediately dropped his gaze going beet red. All your friends saw the exchange and grinned.

“Yes you could.”

“You could probably do that with any guy in this room, Y/N.” You sighed.

“Go ask him to the first Hogsmeade weekend, then ask him out there.” You whined, shaking your head.

“But that’s in two weeks from now!”

“You don’t need to talk to him until then, you go to Hogsmeade, confess your undying love, and ask him out. Easy peasy.” Your friend nudged you, “Go ask now.” The girls began to chant go, and just to shut them up you stood from the table, straightening your uniform before glaring at them all.

“Fine.” You walked to the end of the Slytherin table, past Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and then turned down the aisle for Gryffinor, confidently walking towards the middle of the table. Some people turned to look at you, wondering why you were over this way. You got to Harry’s group and the girl, Hermione, looked up at you surprised. Next Weasley and Potter’s head turned, looking at you. You smiled sweetly and pointed to the seat beside Harry.

“Is this taken?”

“N-No.” He answered, flushing deeply. You sat down on the bench and smiled again at the group.

“How was your summer?” You asked him and he gawked at you. Weasley mouthed, ‘close your mouth’ at Harry and he slammed it shut, nodding his head vigorously.

“It was good. Alright. I’m glad to be back though.” You nodded your head, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you leaned on the table.

“Yeah, me too!” He opened his mouth a few times before nodding his head and looking at anything besides you. You swallowed a laugh and rested your head on your hand, peering at him.

“Any plans for the first Hogsmeade trip yet?” You asked and he shook his head, looking at you with wide eyes. “Do you want to go with me?” You asked. He looked gobsmacked, and you suddenly felt guilty. This was cruel, but a dare was a dare.

“With you?” He repeated.

“Like a date?” Weasley asked, hanging onto every word of the conversation. You giggled slightly and nodded your head.

“Yeah, a date!”

“O-Okay!” He squeaked. You nodded your head, smiling at him before standing back up again,

“Brilliant,” You spoke, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes,” As you walked away you saw Weasley reach across the table, patting Harry on the shoulder in congratulations.

“Good one mate!” You smirked to yourself and kept walking.

The two weeks flew past, and on Saturday morning you woke up early, getting ready for Hogsmeade. You picked out a cute outfit and a light jacket since it was just starting to cool down, and you applied some light makeup for fun. When your friends left you went with them, but hung back in the entrance to wait for Harry as they all kept walking. You were looking at the ground, kicking a rock around slightly as you waited when the boy approached you.

“Hello, Y/N,” You looked up and smiled.

“Hiya, Harry,” He glanced over you and flushed, lifting a hand to fix his glasses that were slipping down his nose and you smiled again. “Alright?”

“I’m good,” He assured, nodding his head vigorously. “You look stunning, by the way.” You grinned, pushing yourself off from your spot leaning on the wall.

“Thank you, you’re sweet. Are you ready to go?” He nodded his head again, eagerly. Harry didn’t speak much as you walked down the pathway towards the little town. You were finding it hard to strike up conversation with him as well, he wasn’t giving you much. You could tell he was nervous by the way he kept fidgeting awkwardly.

“Where do you want to go first?” He asked and you hummed thoughtfully, shrugging.

“I’m not too picky, maybe Honeydukes? I could use some chocolate, the stuff I brought at the start of term is already almost gone.” You admitted and he managed to chuckle.

“Is chocolate your favorite?”

“Oh yes, you know us ladies, we love the stuff.” You joked, nudging him slightly, trying to get him to loosen up.

“Which is your favorite?” He asked, genuinely curious. You weren't used to talking to boys who were ever genuinely curious in what you had to say.

“Honeydukes Peanut Butter Chocolate bars are the absolute best. Anything with chocolate and peanut butter is good in my book!” He chuckled again and you smiled up at him, watching him blush once more. He did that a lot. You reached Hogsmeade and took Harry’s arm, confidently steering him towards Honeydukes. Together you entered the bustling building, which must have currently held half of Hogwarts. You grabbed a basket and began to load it up with goodies. Chocolate bars and chocolate frogs, even a few licorice wands and sugar quills. Harry watched you, following you around like a puppy the entire time.

“Don’t you want anything?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder. He shook his head and smiled.

“No my- a family friend gave me a bunch of stuff before I came back, I still have plenty.” You smiled and nodded your head before glancing over your basket.

“I think I’ve gotten enough to hold me over until the next trip.” He smiled back at you and nodded his head, gesturing towards the payment line. You made idle chat as you waited, and when you got to the counter you both reached for your coin purses.

“You’re not paying for my chocolate,” you scoffed, giggling, “It’s fine,”

“Please,” He shoved your hands away from the counter, “It’s a- a date. A gentleman should pay.” You were slightly surprised by his boldness, not expecting it. Maybe he was warming up.

“You don’t have to pay, you’re already being a gentleman.” Harry smiled at you but simply continued to count out the amount you owed, handing it over and taking the bag for you, refusing to hand it over. “So you’re carrying my things for me now, too?” You smirked and he chuckled.

“Yes, ma’am,”

“Please, ma’am is my mother.” You joked and he snickered again as he led you back out of the still busy store. Next you went to Quality Quidditch Supplies so Harry could look for a pair of gloves. You didn’t care much for Quidditch but you found it interesting to look around at all the gear you didn’t understand, and you enjoyed seeing Harry excited, it was endearing. He tried to explain the rules to you, grinning, and you could tell it was something he was very passionate about.

“Want to go to the Three Broomsticks?” He asked, “We can get butterbeers and chat more?” You nodded your head and began walking with him in that direction.

“Sure, just don’t try and get me drunk,” You teased, he flushed for the first time in over an hour, shaking his head wildly.

“I would never!”

“I know, Harry, I’m only teasing you.” You promised and he relaxed slightly. “You’re a gentleman, remember.” He nodded, offering you his arm with a flourish as you walked.

“M’lady,”

“Kind sir,” You chuckled, taking his arm as you entered the dimly lit and slightly smoky tavern. You found an empty table in the corner and sat down, taking off your jacket as Harry sat across from you. Madam Rosmerta came up to your table and you ordered two butterbeers before she whisked away again to go and retrieve them. You continued your earlier conversation about Quidditch until your drinks arrived, you took a large sip and sighed.

“Oh this hits the spot.”

“It always does,” He agreed, sipping his own and coming away with a foam mustache. You giggled and reached over, wiping it off with your thumb and a smirk. “Thank you,” He muttered, looking down at his drink with bright red cheeks.

“Of course.” You smiled, before swallowing thickly. Now was your shot. “I have to ask you something.” He looked up nervously.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to go out with me?”

“Like,” Harry paused, “Like boyfriend/girlfriend?” He asked skeptically and you nodded your head.

“Exactly like that.” He looked around the room in shock and for a moment you thought he might actually turn you down, you grew nervous.

“I would really like that, yeah.” You smiled and took another sip of butterbeer, winking at him over the rim of your mug.

“Alright, brill.”

You spent a lot of time with Harry over the next week, mostly at the bequest of your friends who demanded you, ‘made it look real’. Not that you minded too much, Harry was growing on you, and his company wasn’t bad. You studied together in the library a lot, chit chatting about nothing in particular. It was one of those times, you were seated on the same side of the table, giggling to yourself when a group of Hufflepuffs glared at you, shushing you for the third time. Harry looked at them apologetically.

“Maybe we should go,” He stated and you felt your face fall slightly. You were enjoying yourself. “We can go back to my common room?” He offered, brushing his hand gently over the back of yours.

“You’re sure they won’t riot? A snake in the lion's den.” He chuckled, shaking his head and beginning to pack up.

“Nah, you’ll be fine. It’s you after all,” You frowned.

“What does that mean?” He seemed to realize what he said and shook his head.

“Nothing! Nothing bad, just, everyone likes you, like, everyone. So no one will mind if you’re there.” He assured, and you relaxed, smiling. “Besides, you’re my girlfriend, you should be allowed in my common room, people bring in students from other houses all the time. No biggie.” Harry loved calling himself your boyfriend, it was almost like he had to remind himself every so often, that you were, in fact, his girlfriend. You felt guilty again, but tried to swallow it down. Harry carried both of your bags as you made your way up to Gryffindor tower, he spoke the password and you smirked.

“Now I can sneak in, give you a haircut while you sleep.” He chuckled, holding the portrait open for you.

“Please don’t,”

“Harry!” Ron called from a sofa near the fireplace, and Harry put a hand on your back as he led you over. You were going to hang out with his friends?

“You brought Y/N,” Hermione spoke, smiling softly, “Good, sit down,” You and Harry took a seat in the only free seat, an armchair and you glanced at him. You hadn’t really been this close together yet, your bodies touching as you sat close together in the chair.

“How are you?” Hermione asked politely, closing her book and setting it aside, Ron simply looked at you and Harry, smirking slightly.

“I’m alright,” You nodded, feeling slightly out of place, which wasn’t a feeling you got often. “Starting to get more and more homework, they’re not holding back this year are they?” You asked and she smiled sympathetically, nodding.

“Not at all, but it’s for our benefit,”

“How so? I won’t be of any benefit if I’m dead from stress.” Harry chuckled and Ron groaned.

“Don’t get her started on how important preparing for the NEWTs are, please, Y/N, I already got the speech once today,” You smirked slightly, looking at Hermione who glared at Ron. You couldn’t help but wonder if they dated as well, but you decided not to ask. The three of them chatted and you occasionally joined in, Harry kept glancing at you, and you’d smile slightly everytime he did. You still felt awkward and out of place amongst your boyfriend, fake boyfriend’s friends. Eventually it got late, and you yawned, leaning slightly more into Harry as he continued to argue with Ron about the best Quidditch team, and who had the best chance at the world cup this year.

“Sleepy?” Harry asked you, hesitantly putting an arm around around your shoulder. You enjoyed the comfort of it more than you were willing to admit to yourself in that moment.

“A bit.”

“Let me walk you back to your common room,” You shook your head as the boy got up.

“No, Harry, no point in your walking to the other end of the castle and back, I’m a big girl, I can make it.” He shook his head back at you, smiling and offering you his hand.

“Humor me,” You sighed and took the outstretched hand, allowing him to pull you into a standing position.

“Fine, goodnight Hermione, Ron.” They both said goodnight to you, and Harry led you by your hand to the exit of the common room, swinging the portrait hole open. You walked, hands linked, in comfortable silence to the dungeons. When you got to the entrance of the Slytherin common room, you stopped, turning to him but not releasing his hand.

“This is my stop, Thank you,” You grinned.

“Of course,” He assured you, eyes going from your eyes to his lips. You watched him, tilting your head slightly and wondering if he had the guts to kiss you. It had been a week after all. Harry brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and gazed down at you, and you found yourself hoping he would muster up the courage.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“May I kiss you?” He asked and you nodded your head slightly. The hand that had brushed your hair back, moved to your cheek, cupping it gently. He pulled you slightly closer before leaning down to gently press his lips to yours. It was sweet and gentle and before you knew it, it was over. He pulled back, blinking his eyes open and you giggled releasing his hand.

“Goodnight,” You whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

A week and a half later, and several kisses later, you were four days from the end of your bet, and you found yourself dreading Monday. You didn’t want to hurt Harry, you’d grown to enjoy his company, and once he got over how nervous you made him he was sweet and funny and lovely to be around. You were wandering the castle together, late at night, past curfew, and you were surprised by how willing Harry was to break some rules. You hadn’t seen each other in a few days, busy with class and school work, so he had suggested your little midnight rondevu.

You were walking aimlessly, holding hands and talking about your week. Harry nudged you and you smirked up at him.

“What?” He asked, laughing.

“Oh nothing,”

“No tell me,”

“I’m just surprised is all,” You admitted.

“About what?”

“You. You’re not exactly what I thought you’d be.” He frowned.

“In a bad way?” You shook your head and squeezed his hand tightly.

“No, in a good way. I never expected you to be the sneak out late to see your girlfriend type.” He smirked down at you, nudging you back.

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled, swinging your hands playfully as you walked. At the end of the corridor a cat appeared suddenly, it’s eyes illuminated by the torch light.

“Mrs. Norris!” You whispered loudly, yanking on Harry, “Come on,” Harry allowed you to lead him in the opposite direction, but the sound of footsteps were quickly approaching so you ducked into the first broom cupboard you saw, pulling Harry in with you and shutting the door quietly.

“What if he checks?” Harry asked, eyes wide. You smacked a hand over his mouth hissing out a ‘shh’. The cupboard was tiny, and you were practically pressed against Harry fully, and you were shaking mildly. You played a senero over in your head; Filch finding you, owling your parents, telling them you had been found, after hours, alone, with Harry Bloody Potter in a broom cupboard. They would kill you. Harry felt you shaking and wrapped you into a hug, pulling you against his chest. You wanted to push him away, but you found it too comforting, so you wrapped your own arms around him, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes tight.

The footsteps came down the hallway quickly, and came closer and closer to you. You held your breath. Then they went directly past you, and continued on down the corridor. You let out the breath you had been holding and felt the tension leave your body. Harry rubbed a hand over your arm, kissing the top of your head.

“We’re alright, Y/N.” He promised and you pulled back just far enough to look at him, smiling softly. Your faces only inches apart. Harry gazed down at you, openly adoringly. That’s one of the things you liked about him, how open he was in liking you. Most boys you had dated before barely even tolerated you; they just wanted to be able to say they were dating a pretty popular girl. They didn’t like you.

Harry smiled, pressing his forehead against yours and you leaned in to give him a small kiss. When you pulled back he was blushing again.

“Will you ever stop blushing?” You teased lightly, brushing his curls from his face.

“No probably not, you make me blush.” He leaned in and kissed you again hesitantly, but you kissed back immediately. Right when you thought he might deepen the kiss he pulled back, blushing furiously.

“S-Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you.” You giggled, pulling his head down again.

“You’re not. I’m taking advantage of you,” You promised jokingly. Harry laughed against your lips, trailing his fingers over your sides as he kissed you. You felt his tongue tease at your lip curiously, and you began to wonder if he had ever snogged a girl before. You parted your own lips slightly, poking your own tongue out to meet his. Harry’s hands on your waist tightened. He opened his mouth more, pressing his tongue into your mouth as he began to explore- you allowed him. He tested the waters, and you occasionally ran your tongue over his. You didn’t know how long you stood there kissing but he eventually pulled back, smirking lightly down at you.

“You’re... good at that.” You almost made a joke about how practice makes perfect but thought better of it.

“Thank you, you’re a quick learner.” He frowned slightly before giving you a lopsided smile.

“It’s obvious I haven’t done this before?”

“I just figured,” You admitted. Usually boys who snogged a lot were much quicker to the draw.

“Sorry,”

“Don’t apologize to me Harry, I’m glad I was your first proper kiss.” He moved his hands from your body and took your hands in his, lifting them to his mouth as he peppered the back of your hands with kisses.

“Let me walk you back to your common room, make sure you get there safe.” You nodded your head. That was Harry, that’s what you liked about him.

“How’d the break up go?” Your friend asked, plopping down on your bed beside you with a wide grin, you had been avoiding all of your friends for the past three days. You didn’t look up from your charms essay.

“I haven’t done it.” you admitted, and her eyes widened.

“What? Why? The dare was over three days ago!” You shrugged your shoulders, flushing deeply. “What?” You friend repeated, “Oh, Y/N, don’t tell me...” She placed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“I’m not going to break up with him.” You shrugged again, refusing to look at the other girl.

“You like him!” She gasped.

“I’ve definitely started to,” You admitted, putting your quill down, rubbing your hands over your face. “I don’t want to hurt him, I don’t want to... stop seeing him.” She nodded slightly.

“But he’s a Gryffindor.”

“He’s a lot more than just his house,” You argued and she looked at you skeptically.

“Are you sure?” You nodded. “Then don’t.” You both smiled smally at each other but then her face grew serious. “But I would tell him about the dare, if I were you, it’ll come out eventually. You don’t want that to happen.” Your face went blank.

“Is that a threat?”

“No.” She assured you seriously, “But it’s true.” And you knew she was right. Damn her.

“I’ll go... find him now.” She patted your shoulder, and offered you a reassuring look.

“Goodluck.”

You went to Gryffindor tower and waited nervously outside the portrait hole until you saw a familiar face approaching.

“Hi Neville.”

“Hello Y/N, alright?” You nodded.

“Can you do me a favor, can you ask Harry to come out?” He smiled.

“Of course.” He disappeared into the common room and you went back to waiting nervously. A few moments later and Harry came out, grinning widely.

“Hey, Y/N,” He saw your face, and your nervous demeanour and stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk?” You asked, offering him your hand. He took it and nodded his head, eyes worried.

“Of course.” You led him down the corridor finding a small nook you could tuck yourselves into for some privacy. “What’s wrong?” He asked again and you sighed, looking down at your entwined hands. You didn’t want to tell him, you didn’t want to see the look of hurt on his face when you admitted your relationship started on a bet. All you could do was hope he understood that it was no longer that way, and that you had fallen for him.

“I need to tell you something, it’s going to hurt you and I am very sorry.” He nodded his head, trying to get you to look at him but you couldn’t. “You’re going to be cross with me, just know I really really like you, Harry.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” He asked in a breathy whisper and you shook your head no.

“No, I’m not. But you might want to break up with me.”

“Tell me, Y/N, please.” You took a deep steadying breath and finally looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“On the first day of the year, my dormmates and I were playing truth or dare.” You decided to get directly to the point, “They... they knew you liked me. A lot. Everyone did. They dared me to ask you out.” You watched as his face fell, a look of horror overcoming him. “I was supposed to date you for three weeks, and then break up with you- but I can’t. I told them I can’t, Harry. I like you too much. I don’t want to break up with you, I am so so sorry.” You were crying. His face went blank.

“It was a dare?”

“At first! Just at first, but you’re so kind, and good to me, and handsome, and sweet. You’re such a gentleman, I’ve never met a boy like you, let alone dated one.

“A dare.” He repeated and you tried to take his hand again but he yanked it away. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry,”

“I don’t want to hear it.” The look of hurt on his face was too much for you and your shoulders shook with tears. “How could you do that to someone?” He asked angrily and you winced.

“I didn’t want to, I told them I didn’t want to hurt you, but a dare was a dare.” Harry stood up suddenly, looking down at you. He was sad and angry and you couldn’t blame him.

“And what? Now I’m supposed to just believe you’ve changed your mind?” He asked and you nodded and shrugged.

“I won’t blame you if you don’t. But it’s the truth. I like you Harry. A lot. I don’t want to lose you.” He shook his head and turned, walking a few steps away before stopping. He turned to look at you, once more, before turning again and he was gone. You sat for another few minutes crying pathetically to yourself before you got up and made your way back to your dorm, locking yourself in the bathroom for hours. You really screwed up this time.

Over a week had passed and Harry hadn’t spoken to you. He barely even looked at you, and you were miserable. You sat in the great hall not eating, just pushing your peas around with a fork. You looked like shit, you’re usually effortless demeanour was crushed and you were hurting badly. You looked up across the room to Gryffindor door table and made eye contact with him. He held your gaze until you looked down, wiping furiously at your eyes. You couldn’t cry in front of all of these people.

You kept your head down, your hair forming a curtain from the world as you continued playing with your food. Misery didn’t suit you. A few moments later someone cleared their throat behind you and you didn’t move.

“Y/N,” they spoke and you jumped slightly, recognizing the voice. You turned and saw Harry standing there, he looked down at you sadly.

“Harry.” You croaked out. He stood there for a moment before he moved, leaning down and pressing a searing kiss to your chapped lips. When he pulled back you looked at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. “Wha-”

“I believe you,” He stated, eyes warm. He was looking at you like he used to. “I needed time, but I miss you too much. I believe you, and if you are willing, I want you to still be my girlfriend.” Your eyes welled again. You stood up from the bench and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest.

“I would love that.” He rubbed your back and a few nearby students, including your friends clapped and laughed, whooping. You were never ever playing truth or dare again.

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x slytherin!reader #slytherin #gryffindor

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mdawritings · 4 years ago

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 13

II.II

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Song(s): “Mr. Perfectly Fine” by Taylor Swift

You find yourself having more sleepless nights than ever before. Every time you close your eyes you’re facing the terrifying horrors your brain has managed to conjure up. The sounds of people screaming for help as debris rains down around you. You’re fighting against the arms of two firemen. Someone has to help them!

Your alarm is still hours away from ringing, yet you glance at the time every few minutes, every minute dragging along like it’s an hour. Your eyes are glued to your ceiling fan, watching as it swings back and forth slightly with each rotation of the blades.

After your first case with the BAU, things have started to slow down. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have cases every single day of the week. Most of your days of work are summarized by piles and piles of paperwork. The team seems to be perpetually behind on every case report. The team tries to write up a general profile for every case that requests the BAU assistance that you can’t help with in person. In addition, Strauss loves to load the whole team with special talking events and lecture series. There’s hardly a day where everyone is in the office at the same time and when you are, you’re all soon called away on a case.

You haven’t been called away on a case since your first with the team. You actually don’t mind doing paperwork most of the day. The main reason is that it gives you an easy way to stay away from Hotch. You’ve jokingly struck up a deal that for every one of your files that Reid walks up to Hotch’s office for you, you’ll buy him a coffee. So far you owe him nearly two weeks of coffee.

Hotch is not completely oblivious. He’s caught on to your little game and so far, he’s been kind enough to give you some distance. He’s stopped pressuring you to talk to him. Maybe he finally sensed the raw emotion of your voice the other day in his office.

You resign yourself to the fact that you’re not going to fall back to sleep before your alarm rings. You pull the sheets off of you, kicking your feet off to the side, wrapping your arms around your body tightly as a shiver runs through you. The temperature in Virginia is dropping rapidly as winter takes over. You love when it’s cold. You love the way the cold, blustery air bites at your skin and makes you tingly. It’s a nice reminder that you’re alive. After everything you’ve been through, you’re still standing. You can still feel something. You can feel the cold.

You go through the motions of your morning routine, taking a shower to wake yourself up, brushing your teeth, pulling on some slacks and a nice blouse. You turn on some music while you get ready but even your favorite songs can’t seem to pull your head out from the haze you are living in recently. Your body is working on autopilot because before you know it, you’ve finished your makeup. It’s not even 6 AM.

You pop half of a bagel into the toaster, make a cup of coffee in your thermos, and then cover the bagel with cream cheese and honey. You look around your half-empty apartment, taking your time to eat your small breakfast.

Today is just going to be one of those particularly difficult and painful days. You can sense it. Your body feels lit up with nerves. Eating your breakfast is difficult, just the taste of the food making you sick to your stomach.

Your thoughts bounce between two topics: your past in the FBI and your past with Aaron Hotchner. It’s hard to believe that the Aaron Hotchner you see every day is the same Aaron Hotchner you once knew. You glance at the time, if you don’t leave soon you‘ll miss the train and be stuck at home for another hour. You rush out the door, walking to the train station. You settle into a seat, pulling your headphones on, hoping to drown out the rattling and humming of the train. You reach down to dig through your bag for your thermos of coffee. Shit.

The thermos is sitting on your counter. You can practically see it in your mind, right there on the edge of the counter. It’s almost become a joke at this point the horrible quality coffee of the BAU. You and Reid have a running joke about starting up a collection fund for better quality coffee, at least for your BAU floor. Nearly every team member brings their own coffee, settling for the shitty stuff in the conference room or on the jet in place of their second or third cup that day.

You get off the train, tempted to call Reid to bring you coffee, but according to your deal, you’re supposed to be the one doing that for him. You let out a tired sigh, calling a car to drive you to the office, wincing at the cost of your morning commute. You really need to get a car.

The parking lot is almost completely empty. You swipe your ID at the door. The night guard hasn’t switched out for the morning guard yet. You recognize him from some of the late nights you’ve had within your first week of work and give a small smile and nod. Your heart thumps into your throat every time you step onto the elevator in this building. All this in an attempt to avoid being alone with Hotch.

You reach forward to press floor six, when a voice calls out, footsteps moving rapidly towards the elevator, “Hold the elevator please!” You see a black briefcase swing up between the closing doors as you lunge for the door hold button. “Thank you—” There’s a slight hesitation in Hotch’s voice as he pauses and looks over you. “Agent.” He steps into the elevator. You make room for him, putting as much space between the two of you as possible.

You attempt your best, most polite, professional smile and nod, “Good morning, Sir.” You rock back and forth on your toes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him open his mouth to say something before closing it again. There’s a long pause.

Should you say something? A normal employee would ask their boss how they are and make small talk. But this isn’t really the most normal boss/employee relationship. It seems frivolous to make small talk with someone who has seen the most intimate parts of you.

“You’re here early again,” Hotch finally speaks up. The elevator’s cool blue fluorescent lighting somehow emphasizes just how warm those brown eyes of his are. Those intimate parts of you that you keep shrouded from the naked eye, every single weakness you have shoved down, seem to be on full display in the way that he looks at you.

“I was already up. Thought I’d come in and get some work done,” The only way to keep the profiler in him at bay is to tell him some version of the truth. It’s true. You were already awake. You did decide it would just be better to come in and get started on work. However, you know that the exhaustion in your face is something you can’t hide away from his analytical eyes. There’s something in his expression that you can’t quite place as he gazes back at you. It’s a cross between disbelief and pity.

Pity. That’s definitely something you don’t want. Especially not from him. But maybe it’s not pity? Concern?

“I work out in the mornings,” Now you’re just fully lying, “I finished early and thought why not come in.”

“Y/N-” His voice lowers in volume as if someone’s listening to your conversation. He says your name like it’s a swear word. Like the name is some secret, forbidden phrase that he shouldn’t be saying, especially not at work. The elevator doors ring and they open to the BAU floor. Thankfully, there’s a worker from the night crew waiting to get on, interrupting whatever Hotch planned to say, and you’re quick to step off, moving around the man.

Hotch knows better than to follow after you to continue the conversation. There’s no one else in the offices yet, but the elevator is like neutral territory. A space separate from the job. Some sort of limbo between personal and professional. If the elevator is neutral, the BAU floor is the war front.

The situation is comical. You speed away from him, but he has to walk right past you to get to his office. What you don’t expect is the small coffee cup that he places on your desk before continuing right up to his office.

You remember him holding a tray of coffees in the elevator. Did he always intend to give you one of them? Is this attempt at a truce?

You remove the lid from the cup. The steam erupts wildly, just the smell of the coffee alone enough to already start perking you up. Once the initial small burst of heat clears, you stare down into the cup, expecting to see completely black coffee, the way that Hotch takes his. To your surprise, it's a light caramel color and you can smell a slight sweetness. You take a long sip. It’s perfect. You haven’t changed the way you take your coffee. He remembers your order. Is that supposed to mean something?

You realize you’ve been staring into your coffee for too long once you see Morgan and Garcia step off the elevator, his arm casually thrown around her shoulders. You can’t hear their conversation, but she says something, vibrantly gesturing with her hands, as Morgan lets out a laugh, flashing those perfect teeth of his. He gives Garcia’s arm a reassuring squeeze. She turns and scurries off to her little lair while Morgan turns towards the bullpen, digging around for a file in his bag.

“You’re always here early, new girl,” Morgan teases with a playful smack of the file to your head as he walks past.

“I have a name, Morgan,” You roll your eyes, attempting to fix your hair.

“What can I say? I’m a big fan of nicknames,” He grins and starts to walk towards the stairs.

“Wait! Can you take this file up to Hotch?” You hold out the papers from your desk. You give him your best, most innocent, pleading eyes. Usually, that works pretty well to get Reid to do things for you. Flirting really trips Reid up. The problem with Morgan is that he doesn’t get flustered or uncomfortable like Reid, he plays into your flirtations. You get along much better with Morgan now that he’s had about a week to warm up to you.

He still doesn’t trust you and you can tell that he questions your skills. So occasionally, you’ll indulge him. You’ll ask him for advice on something you’re working on. You’ll ask him to check your work before you hand it in to Hotch. You want him to know you respect him.

You don’t trust easily and neither does he, a quality that you have both noticed in each other. Morgan doesn’t push you to indulge him with your past. The other team members haven’t pushed you necessarily, but they seem to dance around the topic of your dismissal. Morgan avoids the topic entirely. You get the feeling that you and Morgan are way more similar than it would appear on the surface.

“Pretty boy gets free coffee, what do I get?” He stops and walks back closer to you.

“What do you want?” You smirk and lean forward placing your chin in the palm of your hand.

Morgan pauses and thinks for a second, “You come out with the team for drinks sometime, first round on you.”

You roll your eyes, “Fine. Deal.” You hold out the files and he takes them with a smile.

“I would’ve done it just to be nice, you know,” He laughs and walks up to knock on Hotch’s door. “Just wanted to see what I could get out of the new girl.” He opens the door, disappearing into the office. Emily finally arrives for the day, Reid trailing close behind her.

“All I’m saying is there are so many scientific fallacies built into the Jurassic Park franchise that it's totally reasonable to watch the films as comedies. I mean mixing Jurassic DNA with any other species just produces new species, not the same exact dinosaurs from the Jurassic period.” Reid rambles on and Emily just shoots you a look.

“This is why I don’t offer to carpool anymore,” She taunts and smiles at you.

“Not even me?” You smile, giving Reid a playful kick under the desks as he sits down.

“Are you going to annoy me about the minuscule details of every great award-winning movie?” She raises a brow, unpacking her belongings, setting a large cup of steaming coffee down.

“Well, I don’t know shit about science,” You shake your head, “I might complain about different book to screen adaptations and the number of details lost and the symbolism lost in the transfer of the work to the screen.”

“It’s moments like these that make me hate that the rest of the team has their own offices,” Prentiss sighs, already reaching for her headphones. You’re not really supposed to listen to music while working, but she breaks that rule all the time. She argues it helps her focus, but you really think it helps distract her from the horrors on the page. In the past week, you’ve learned that Emily Prentiss is great at compartmentalizing.

She’s easily able to push aside personal for professional, however, that comes at a great mental cost for her. She reminds you a little bit of Hotch in that way. She pushes the personal feelings down so deep that it’s hard for her to retrieve them when she needs to, so she’s wary of how detached she gets. But being emotionally detached from the work is the only way to avoid pain. So she listens to music.

Only two case reports later, the day is almost over. The days of sleep deprivation are finally taking a toll on your work ethic. Your brain is in a haze. You thought the two servings of caffeine would help clear your mind, but instead, they’ve just heightened your anxiety, making you more on edge than you already were. It doesn’t help that every few minutes your eyes drift up to the blinds of Hotch’s office, looking up at him while he focuses down on his work.

How can he be so… okay? He pretends as if your presence isn’t immensely distracting. Maybe it isn’t for him. Whatever he felt for you all those years ago was never love, you know that. Maybe he liked the ego boost of the way you worshipped him, hanging on to every last word out of his mouth. Maybe he just liked your body. He broke your heart, yet he sits in his office like everything is perfect.

“Today’s cases?” Reid stands next to your desk, a large stack of files in his arms already.

“How do you get those done so fast?” You shake your head at him and hand him your two, very slim, files.

“Eidetic memory, high-speed reading, genius-level IQ,” Emily pipes up without looking at the two of you. “Any of those options is a good explanation.”

“Thank you, Spence. I am forever in your debt,” You tease him as he gives a cute little tight-lipped smile, rushing up the stairs to hand in the work from the day.

As if on cue, Garcia, Morgan, and JJ step into the bullpen, their bags slung over their shoulders and Rossi comes down from the catwalk to meet the three.

“So how about that drink now?” Morgan once again has an arm wrapped around Garcia who then glances between the two of you.

“Yes! The newbie has to join us for drinks!” She smiles wildly, “Oh I just know you’re going to be so much fun. Plus, I have so much I want to interrogate you about.” It’s a light-hearted joke, a turn of phrase, but you know that Garcia probably vetted you within minutes of your time at the BAU. Penelope Garcia has the biggest heart of anyone you’ve ever met. She has so much love and joy for her family, this team, but you also know that she will do anything to keep her family safe. She’s not a violent person, but you know that if she had to die to protect this stand-in family, she would.

You glance among the faces of your new team, each more hopeful and excited than the last. They’ve all been immensely welcoming, despite their individual reservations about you. “I guess I could be down for a drink or two.” You start packing your bag. You hear Hotch’s office door open.

“Pretty boy, you down for drinks? Y/L/N is buying the first round!” Morgan calls up to Reid. You smile up at him, but it quickly drops when you see him.

Reid’s eyes flit to yours and there’s an apologetic look on his face, “Y/N, Hotch wants to talk to you.” The team exchanges a series of looks, your face getting warm as soon as you can feel all eyes on you.

You wave at them dismissively, “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up if I have time,” You force a smile, pulling your bag onto your shoulder, practically dragging yourself up the stairs. As you pass Reid, he gives your hand a small touch. It’s small, but it means the world to you. You know how weird Reid is about contact and germs. He hugs or touches the team because he trusts them. He feels a sense of family with them. It’s only been a week, yet you and Reid have shared countless passionate conversations about books.

He gives you recommendations and you rush to buy them. You indulge his rambling rants. Sometimes you ride the train together. He gets off much later than you on the train, taking it all the way to DC, but he makes the ride seem like seconds, not minutes. You love to see what people are passionate about and Spencer Reid is passionate about everything. He loves to learn, a feeling you relate to heavily.

You knock on the hardwood door, the nameplate seeming to stare back at you, taunting you. It isn’t new that a door with Aaron Hotchner’s name on it haunts you, but this one is different. It holds so much more potential. Just a little strip of metal adhered to the dark wood. Yet it holds your past life with him and about a million different possible future ones both with and without him.

You hear a deep ‘come in’ through the door and push it open to see Hotch hunched over, focused on the work on his desk, the same way he’s looked all day through his blinds. “Please, sit,” He reaches for a pen and your eyes go to the form on his desk.

You smooth out your pants as you take the seat across from him. “You wanted to see me?”

“Interesting system you’ve worked out with Morgan and Reid.” If you weren’t looking directly at him you would swear he was smiling through the comment, but instead, you're faced with those emotionless eyes of his.

“I’m sorry,” You stumble over your words a little. Did he call you up here to reprimand you for not walking your own work up to his office? “It’s just a little silly thing I was doing. It’s childish I’ll—”

“That’s not why I needed to see you,” He cuts you off, waving his hand. He leans forward, one arm resting on the armrest of his chair, the other hand holding his pen. He rubs his fingers together with the pen in his hand.

Needed to see you. He didn’t mean those words that way, but your brain takes them and runs with them, forcing you to need a second to breathe. As always, Hotch sucks the oxygen out of your lungs, leaving you breathless, scrambling for some sense of sanity.

“Strauss suggested—” He pauses and corrects himself, “Well, Strauss requested an evaluation of you after your first week on the job and I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“Right now?” You question him and he gives a slight nod in response.

“I know you’ve been through a lot and Strauss wants to make sure you’re really ready for this job.”

“I am. I was gone for a year. I don’t need more time off. I need to get back to work and back to feeling useful.” You answer decisively. It’s that simple. He has your psych evaluations and your therapists notes. So does Strauss. What more do they want from you?

You can tell he takes note of your exact word choice, eyes narrowing as you say ‘useful.’He jots something down on the pad in front of him, “You’ve gotten great work done these past few days. You’re an excellent agent and you have a real skill for profiling.”

“Thank you, Sir,” You play off the compliment, but truthfully, it terrifies you how much you feel joy coursing through you at the praise. His approval still means everything you. You can’t and won’t be dependent upon him. “The rest of the team definitely has a lot more experience though.”

“Is that why you ask Reid questions that you know the answer to? Or ask Morgan to look over your work even though you’ve already checked it over twice and know that it’s perfect?” You meet his gaze reluctantly and this time there is a small upturn to his lips at the corners.

You’re rendered speechless temporarily. Fair enough. Just as much as you’ve been profiling and analyzing him, he;’s been observant. He’s paying attention to your behavior. That is his job after all. “Excuse me?”

“You want everyone here to like you. You want to prove yourself to everyone, to me. You don’t need to do that.” The look in his eyes makes your heart pound aggressively against your ribcage so wildly that you’re convinced he can see your chest moving with each thud. He’s saying he’s noticed the signs of sleep deprivation. That’s what the coffee was about. That’s why he’s called you in for this evaluation. “I think you’ve been through something traumatic. Now, I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through, I understand that the details of your removal from your original post have been made confidential but I think this job takes a lot from you.” He scoffs a little and shakes his head, “No actually, this job will take everything from you. It’ll eat you alive, but you need to find a way not to let it.”

You’re sure that the state of both of you is enough to scare off anyone from wanting to join the BAU. Both of you are poster children for sleep deprivation. You’re working yourself overtime to prove yourself to the team while distracting your mind from the past. And Hotch? It’s clear he works himself overtime to make up for something. You haven’t quite figured out what yet, but he’s trying to make up for a past mistake. He’s trying to be the best that he can in his position. What did the job take from him that’s left him a shell of himself?

“Is there a question in there, sir?” You try to play off the instinct to snap at him.

“Do you have someone to talk to?” There’s that confusing look on his face again. The one that makes you feel like you’re being pitied, “You don’t have to talk to me, I mean, of course, you can talk to me, but you need to talk to someone. Do you have someone?”

You nod, “I can always call my therapist if I need her. And if I need someone, I’ll find someone. No need to worry, Sir.”

“Hotch,” He corrects. Your answer doesn’t satisfy him. “I’ve seen a pattern before, with agents that come back from trauma. They’re desperate for acceptance and approval, yet they have trouble trusting their coworkers. This team can’t function without trust. So do you?”

“Do I what?” You’re clenching your toes in your shoes, in order to hide the anger that the question fuels inside you. With every question, this feels more like an interrogation.

“Trust your fellow agents? Trust this team? Trust me?” He waves his hand around like it’s the simplest question he could ask you as if he hasn’t given you a million different reasons to be distrustful.

“I think trust is a fickle thing. Easy to lose, nearly impossible to gain back when lost. In addition, it takes time to build trust.” Your hands fidget a little at your sides and his eyes dart down to notice the behavior. “I don’t expect any of the other agents to trust me right away but I don’t plan on giving them any reason not to. I hope they’re just as understanding with me as I am with them.”

With the two of you, it’s never been about what is said, but always what goes unsaid, and this conversation, so much seems to be going unsaid.

“This team only works because we value cooperation and we respect one another,” He nods and looks back at the form in front of him, “I’ll be sure to tell Strauss how well you’re fitting in.” As he continues to talk, you gather up your things. “I’m impressed by how much you’ve accomplished these past few years in the bureau.”

“Thank you, Sir.” There’s so much more you want to say to him. There’s so much you want to ask. You want to yell and scream and curse him out, but you also want to throw it all in his face. How much you achieved without his help. You’re almost out the door but you can’t seem to bite your tongue any longer. When you look back at him, he’s standing, collecting his things, “How are you so… so okay?”

“I’m sorry?” His brows furrow into confusion.

“I can’t breathe around you. I can’t think straight. I can’t get my work done,” You let out, your voice tired and weak as you let the truth out, “I go home and I can’t get you off my mind. How are you just so professional and composed as if I’m just like any other employee? Did I really mean so little to you? Did I delude myself that much?”

Hotch pauses and clears his throat. He closes himself off to you by looking at his work, as if the answer he’s looking for is in one of those files, “That was… was a long time ago and I think it’s just best we focus on our responsibilities here as agents, rather than indulge the past.”

“Unbelievable,” You scoff, “It’s sad that you haven’t changed. You are still so opposed to letting yourself feel anything. I can barely get up each morning and bring myself into work to face you, but glad to know you’re doing great.” You wait a moment to see if he has anything to say, but he keeps that stern emotionless veil over his face. “Good night, Sir.” Just like a week ago, you’re almost out the door. Almost free.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” Hotch calls out. You freeze.

“Bullshit,” You breathe out clenching your fists at your side, trying to take another step away from him.

“You were important to me. I cared about you.” He hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words, choosing them carefully, “You’re still important to me. I still care about you, now that you’re a member of the team.”

“Bull. Shit.” You grit out, take a few steps closer, forgetting how much taller he is than you, but you’re determined to stand your ground. “How many were there?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many other girls? How many before me?” You shake your head. You’re not sure that you even want the answer. It’s a question that’s stuck with you ever since that day outside of his office so many years ago. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even bother saving you the heartbreak. He welcomed that girl into his office the same way he did to you without thinking twice.

“I–” He’s at a loss for words, pushing his focus down to the papers on his desk, trailing a finger over the edge of the wood, actively avoiding the question.

“It’s not a difficult question, Hotch,” You’re firm with him. Despite his position of authority over you, as he was before, you’re no longer intimidated by the repercussions of speaking out. You have too much dirt on him. Too many things you could throw in his face at this point. He can’t fire you for speaking your mind. You know he won’t. He can’t threaten your career. If he fires you, he has to explain himself to Strauss. What is he going to say? He can’t explain your history together.

“I don’t remember,” He stumbles over his words, “Three... no four. Definitely four.”

You pause. There’s still one question that has weighed on your mind every day for the past eight years, “And after me?” It’s a question you definitely don’t want the answer to, knowing that in all honesty, the answer doesn’t really matter. It won’t change much. You’ve considered every answer to the question. Every alternative hurts. If he did sleep with that student after you, it solidifies your unimportance in his life. If he didn’t, why would he hurt you the way he did?

It’s a question Hotch clearly never thought you’d actually ask. He finally meets your eye contact, “None.”

You scoff, “You’re a liar.”

“I couldn’t... go through with it with anyone else. I just saw you everywhere in that office. Everywhere I looked. I couldn’t erase the traces of you.” He shakes his head, “And I wanted to go through with it.” That stings, “Because I wanted to forget you. Get you out of my mind and I couldn’t.”

You gnaw at your bottom lip, “Clearly you were able to move on pretty easily,” You gesture to the pictures of the blonde women and the little boy on the bookshelf behind him.

That’s when he completely shuts down. Any sense of humanity you were starting to see in him slowly slips away from you. He’s back to that stonewall of a unit chief. You’ve hit a nerve. “That is not a topic up for discussion.”

“How old is your son? Five? Six?” You cross your arms against your chest, “Don’t act like I was important to you if it was that easy for you to move on. It’s funny, you seem to have everyone around here fooled into thinking you’re some morally just, decent man. I wonder if she knows the truth about you.”

Now you’ve really hit a nerve. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about, Agent.” He gathers up the papers on his desk, shoving them into a file. “You’re dismissed. Evaluation is over.”

“Good night,” You pause, “Sir.” you snatch up your bag from the floor. Was that even a real evaluation? Or just an excuse to force you to finally sit down and talk to him? He was prying for personal answers. Do you have someone? Do you? Trust me? What he really meant was, Are you seeing someone? Are you still mad at me? Do you hate me? You made sure he didn’t get those answers. The answers being no and you don’t know. You feel like you don’t even know him. He barely even looks like the man you found yourself hopelessly falling for.

You text Reid that you’re just too tired to meet the team for drinks. Calling a car to take you to the train station.

Hotch has somehow managed to become a completely different person, yet still maintains some similarities to the person he was before. You still think of the same words to describe him, but for entirely different reasons.

He’s firm and stern. Now, in this position, he’s big on following protocol. Following the rules is what has to be done. Following rules and respecting the chain of authority is essential to keeping everyone safe. Before, he didn’t care about rules, but he had high standards of performance.

He’s cold. Before, he was cold to distance you from him. Now he’s cold as if letting someone in might break him. Like you might warm him from the inside out and he might not be able to withstand the heat. Letting someone in might lead to a complete meltdown.

Despite the icy exterior he puts on, you see small glimpses of warmth and care. Care for his team, especially. He’s patient with Garcia. He indulges her quirks. He’s firm with Reid because if not he gets sidetracked pretty quickly. But he’s also gentle with him. He doesn’t cut him off or guide him back on track in a rude manner. He knows when the job is overwhelming for JJ. She fields so many cases, being forced to decide which people most need the help. Every single day this week, you’ve seen them both hunched over his desk pouring over yet another armful of files. He reassures her that they’ve made the right decisions.

So you don’t know if you hate him. You don’t know him. That’s the problem.

By the time you get to your apartment, both the mental and physical exhaustion have finally caught up to you. You open your mailbox, pulling out the mail that’s been accumulating over the past few days. You sort through it quickly, most junk mail and bills. You get to the top of the stairs and unlock your door pushing through and you see a small envelope at the bottom of the handful. There’s no return address, just your name scrawled across the front in almost illegible handwriting.

You furrow your brows, dropping your bags by the door, kicking off your shoes, and walking into your kitchen as you tear at the envelope. As you do, a small square photograph falls out. You reach in for the other small slip of paper. Your heart sinks and you feel a sick sense growing in the pit of your stomach.

On the small paper, in the same scrawl as the front of the envelope: I’m still out there.

You bend down for the photograph that fell. It’s a picture of Hotch, his suit jacket blowing open slightly in the wind. He has his phone in his clutches, pressing it up to his ear. He’s got his briefcase under one arm and a tray of coffee in that hand. You look a little closer and notice the pattern on the tie he’s wearing in the photo… the photo was taken today. You flip over the photo, to see a second and final note.

This is between you and me. Break any of my rules, tell anyone about this, and he dies.

Chapter 14: II.III →

Tag list: @wanniiieeee @art-and-thoughts

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #wanna be yours fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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inkweaver22-blr · 4 years ago

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Four for four baby! This is perhaps the last of my daily updates as I’ll be busy the next few days. Here’s another little filler chapter but it’s a good one as it’s the first one where we directly see references to other creators’ Monkie Kid works! There’s three references here, two subtle and one explicit. I’ll make sure to have links to each work in the notes at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Four: Childish Behavior

Tang often feels like the only adult surrounded by children. Literally sometimes.

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If there was one thing Tang had learned about these timelines he kept jumping between was that they were consistently inconsistent.

The minor details that changed randomly but never really affected the outcome of the events from his original time were still abundant and rarely phased him much anymore.

(Although that one time he had platinum blonde hair had been interesting.)

It was when entirely unique situations arose that the scholar was caught off guard.

New events sprung up every now and then and inserted themselves between the original ones. As with the smaller changes, these new scenarios were unpredictable and varied wildly in scope.

A surprisingly durable MK clone that somehow managed to escape being dispelled, gaining independence, and becoming Macaque’s apprentice.

An ocean demon sinking ships just outside the bay and Sandy getting to go on that water adventure he wanted.

MK’s birth parents trying to reinsert themselves back into his life after seeing his achievements on the news.

(Tang was so incredibly proud of his kid for standing up for himself and refusing their empty platitudes. The pranks that he, Mei, and the Monkey King had pulled on them in retaliation were great stress relievers.)

Since Tang could still do his best to help out in each new event without horrible consequences, it seemed the rule of “No Interference” did not apply to them. He supposed that made sense as he had no way to predict when or if they might occur and thus couldn’t change an outcome he didn’t know about.

He was grateful for that small mercy at least.

Still, with how these cycles seemed to be endless so far, a few of these events would happen over multiple timelines.

Getting de-aged by a mischievous trickster demon or spirit was a strangely common occurrence.

MK seemed to be the most popular target for this particular curse. The brightness of his personality seemed to shine even stronger whenever he was reverted into a child, which simply made Tang love the kid even more.

(He wished he could have helped the Monkey King tear Macaque apart for kidnapping their precious little one in that cycle.)

They all had their own turns of having their biological clocks reversed of course. Mei was a little trouble maker, Pigsy was a shy and timid toddler, and Sandy liked to have things he could break apart. Tang couldn’t clearly remember the times he had been de-aged but was pleased when an exhausted Mei and Mk had said he was the easiest of the adults-turned-kids to take care of.

Then there was the Monkey King.

Having to corral a rambunctious young monkey with the strength to crush boulders and the ability to duplicate or shapeshift was not easy.

(He still had no idea how MK had managed to do it alone once.)

With the amount of times they had all been subjected to this specific curse, Tang only really had himself to blame for not seeing it coming.

Tang poured over the scroll in front of him, trying to find the counter for this timeline’s version of the curse. Behind him, Mei distracted a de-aged Red Son, or Red Boy as that’s what the small fire demon was calling himself.

Getting kidnapped by a somewhat feral child with the ability to freely toss around the True Fire of Samadhi hadn’t been the most pleasant start to his day. While being mistaken as the monk Tang Sanzang was a little flattering, the threat of being roasted over the sacred blume flames and eaten had quickly dampened those feelings.

Luckily the young demon had fallen asleep, the fires dissipating as he lost consciousness. If only Tang knew how to cast the Monkey King’s fire ward...

“Ahem.”

Tang glanced up and paled at the sight of a displeased looking Demon Bull King.

“Little thief,” the demon addressed an equally freaked-out MK. “I believe you have something of mine.”

“Father! You’re here,” Red Boy called out as he jumped from Mei’s arms. “I have wonderful news! I’ve found a husband!” He quickly ran over to a petrified MK and leaned against him like he was presenting some great treasure. “Look! Look! Isn’t he pretty?”

Tang had almost forgotten about that particular detail. If they got out of this alive he was never going to let MK live this down for the rest of the cycle. Prerogative of being a dad and all.

“What do you think father,” Red Boy continued, ignoring MK’s desperate plea for him to stop. “I can marry him, right?”

DBK’s expression was frankly unimpressed as he stared down into the hopeful one Red Boy wore. Tang had a bad feeling about what was going to happen and slowly made his way around the room to hide behind MK and Mei who were also backing away.

“No.”

Tang winced a bit at the bluntness of the answer and braced himself for the explosion that was sure to follow.

“What? But… why? WHY NOT?!”

The genuine hurt and confusion in the young demon’s voice would have made Tang feel a bit sympathetic, if Red Boy hadn’t tried to eat him of course.

“Because I said so,” DBK growled as he knelt to be closer to his de-aged son. “Now, enough of this. Time to stop being a child.”

Tang frowned. That was... not how to calmly explain to one’s child about why you were refusing their request. Not if you wanted to avoid a full-on meltdown. He should know, having to take care of a young MK multiple times.

Looking into the Demon Bull King’s scowling visage, he wasn’t sure if the older demon simply didn’t know how, or just didn’t care.

“That’s… NOT FAIR!” Red Boy’s disbelief predictably turned into anger as his hair once again burst into blue flames.

“THAT’S NOT FAIR! I am not a child!” The True Fire of Samadhi burst out around the boy, seeming to startle DBK who took a step back. Tang was just thankful that it wasn’t aimed at him this time.

“I… I’m not-” Red Boy’s anger quickly melted away, as did the fire around him. The young demon sniffed a few times before dropping onto the ground and beginning to cry.

Loudly.

“You’re recording this, right?” MK whispered to Mei.

“Obviously.”

Tang sighed at their antics and looked over at DBK. The demon still looked angry but the scholar could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed completely out of his depth and unsure on what to do.

Tang took a steadying breath before mustering his courage and stepping out from behind MK. If Demon Bull King didn’t know how to act like a good father then perhaps he could show him.

If he survived this he was going to need a vacation to fight back against the grey hairs this was going to give him.

The other adults all looked at him as if he had sprouted another head as he approached the sobbing child and knelt next to him.

“Red Boy?”

“H-huh?” The young demon looked up in confusion at being addressed.

“I know that right now everything seems pretty unfair and that can be upsetting,” Tang soothed, keeping his voice steady and reassuring. “But I promise you that your father has a good reason for not letting you marry MK. Would it help if he were to calmly explain that reason without getting angry at you?” He aimed that last sentence more at DBK than Red Boy, who’s sobs had slowed.

“M-maybe…” the young demon finally admitted.

Tang turned to stare expectantly at the Demon Bull King. The demon glared down at the scholar.

“Why are you treating him like a child?”

The harshness of his tone made Red Boy start to tear up again. Tang glared right back at DBK.

“Because right now, until we can reverse this, he is a child,” the scholar snapped, his fear replaced with righteous anger. “And like every child, he deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. He deserves to be comforted by a parent whom he obviously adores and be told that it’s okay to cry. He deserves to feel safe and loved.”

The room was silent save for the hiccups and sniffles from Red Boy as they all stared at Tang. DBK’s mouth hung open as he gazed incredulously down at the human, seemingly struck speechless.

“F-father?”

The small and unsure voice of Red Boy snapped the Demon Bull King out of his thoughts, and something seemed to loosen within him.

Tang stood and retreated back to MK and Mei to give the demon some privacy as he knelt next to his son and began speaking in a hushed tone with him.

“What the hell Mr. Tang,” MK hissed into his ear as he stared wide eyed at the pair of demons on the ground.

“Language MK,” Tang hissed right back before leaning over to Mei. “I know you aren’t recording two incredibly powerful demons having a moment of vulnerability who would stop at nothing to destroy us if they discovered the existence of such a video, right?”

“Eep!” Mei nearly dropped her phone as she rushed to stop her recording and then delete the last few minutes of the resulting video.

There were a few minutes of tense silence as the three humans did their best to pretend that there weren’t two demons having an emotional moment together just a few feet away. They gave a sigh of relief when Red Boy launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms around his neck. DBK seemed panicked at first before slowly wrapping his own arms around the young demon.

Tang adjusted his glasses and gave a nervous smile to the Demon Bull King who was scrutinizing him like a particularly confusing puzzle.

At least he didn’t seem angry any more.

Perhaps they would escape this fiasco unscathed after all.

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I was not expecting this chapter to turn into another Dad Tang story. It just kind of happened that way. So onto the references!

First is Durability by TaintTheUnstoppable which is beginning to shape up into something really interesting.

Second is Little One by @its-kall-the-clown which is just a huge fluff fest capped off with some nice angst. Highly recommended.

Finally we have the Red Boy comic by @purble-turble! Now obviously the Tang in their comic probably won’t do what this one did, by this Tang is too much of a Dad to let a little kid cry for too long.

Next chapter won’t be up until sometime next week! See ya then!

#Ink Writes #Monkie Kid #Scattered Cicadas #Tang #Tang Monkie Kid #MK #Mei #Red Son #Red Boy #Demon Bull King #DBK #Lego Monkie Kid #Durability #TaintTheUnstoppable #Little One #KALL #purble-turble #its-kall-the-clown

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writingfromkitchenator · 4 years ago

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Castiel ~ Inebriated

Alphabet Challenge Masterlist (700 Followers)

Masterlist

Based on an imagine found here by @alloftheimaginesblog

Words: 1,644

Warnings: Neutral Reader, drunken confession

There was a loud crash from the entrance way of the bunker and Castiel quickly hurried to see what was going on. Sam and Dean weren’t due back for another day or so and as far as he knew, you were off on your hunt. His angel blade was at the ready, but he found himself soon letting out a sigh.

You were sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, groaning a little, rubbing your head. You were bruised, but not seriously hurt, and when you caught sight of him, you quickly broke into a grin.

“Hey Cas!” You struggled a little to your feet, staggering a bit, before seeming to gather yourself and brush yourself down. “Sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

Castiel was frowning at you, a little worriedly. “Are you alright Y/N?”

You nodded, a little too enthusiastically, your voice sounding a little funny. “It wasn’t from the top, I’m good.” You looked at the blade in his hand. “You weren’t intending to use that on me I hope?”

He shook his head, slipping the blade away. “You startled me, is all. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here either.” Looking you over, Castiel was beginning to realise exactly what was wrong. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’ as you strode past him, heading for the kitchen. “But it was starting to get too expensive, so I’ve come to raid the boy’s collection.”

Castiel followed after you, mostly to make sure that you didn’t hurt yourself any further than you already had falling down the stairs. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You look like you’ve had more than enough already.”

“Alright Mr liquor store,” You waved back at him, making him shake his head, you having never have let him live that down, easily picking the lock on the cabinet. “I can handle myself and my liquor, thank you, and I very much need it after that hunt.”

He watched as you pulled out a couple of bottles, looking over the contents until you found one you were satisfied with, before raiding a glass and heading to the table. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ again, flopping into one of the chairs and quickly pouring yourself a drink. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Research,” He said a little cautiously, joining you at the table, not quite wanting to leave you alone. “Contrary to popular belief, angels don’t know everything.”

You snorted, casting him a look that told him to very much did know that, but you remained silent, taking a drink.

He decides it’s best just to change the subject. “Must have been a very bad hunt. I haven’t seen you this drunk in a while.”

“You know, if you needed help with research, you could’ve asked me.” You said, diverting the subject back. “I’m sure we could find whatever you need a lot quicker that way, might even be useful later on another hunt.”

Castiel shook his head. “This isn’t for any of you to worry about, and you all have enough on your plates without helping me too, as is clear by your drinking.”

You pursed your lips, staring at your glass before downing it and pouring another. “It was a hard hunt. I don’t feel like getting into details. Let’s just say the shit I was hunting was too smart for its own good and liked the sound of its own voice.”

“Y/N…”

Breaking into giggles, you shook your head. “No, it wasn’t Crowley. Crowley is far more manageable and still very much alive.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“I’m fine,” You said, but you don’t quite meet his eye. “Just grateful for a good drink.”

Castiel sighed and you took yet another drink, draining half your glass. “You know Sam and Dean won’t like you drinking that.”

You shrugged. “That’s their problem, and they owe me anyway.”

He watched you closely. You were hurting, not from your fall down the stairs, but from something else, but trying to get it out of you while you were like this, was not going to be easy. If there was one thing he knew once you’d had a few, it greatly increased your stubbornness.

“Have you at least had some water with all this?” He asked softly. “You’re going to be a mess tomorrow otherwise.”

You shrugged and that was when it truly dawned on him how bad the hunt must have been, practically refusing to meet his gaze at all now.

“Y/N, are you alright? You seem very out of sorts, and I don’t mean from the alcohol.”

You visibly flinched, draining your glass again, a slight shake in your hand as you topped up your glass. “This is still me. I don’t know why you are so concerned.”

Castiel moved and sat next to you, and this time, there was no doubt about it, you were avoiding his gaze, staring away from him. “I’m concerned because you are my friend, and I haven’t seen you this distressed since our last world ending crisis. You are drinking far more than what I would personally recommend, and I think it’s more than clear that you’ve had enough seeing as you feel down the stairs.”

“Only a couple,” You grumbled. “You can back to your research Cas, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He leaned over and took the bottle off of you, moving it out of reach and you stared after it, a little helplessly. “Someone clearly has to right now, and seeing as I’m the only one here, then I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” You said stubbornly. “I can look after myself and I’m not going to talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” He said. “But no more drinking.”

You groaned and looked longingly at the bottle. “Please?”

“No.” Castiel shook his head. “You’ve had enough. I don’t need you hurting yourself further because of your inebriation.”

“I’m not inebriated,” You grumbled. “I’ve had a few too many, but I needed to drink the memory away, or at least try to. It’s not like I haven’t done it for the same thoughts before.”

Castiel tilted his head. “I thought you said it was from a bad hunt?”

You opened your mouth, made a noise, and quickly shook your head. “It was.”

“Then why have you done it before?”

Your look to him was begging him not to push it. “I’ve drunk after bad hunts before, and in all honesty, you weren’t meant to be here. I was just meant to drink and then collapse into the nearest bed.”

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” Castiel frowned. “I’m here about as much as you.”

“You were meant to be off somewhere,” You waved your hand generally. “Doing what you do. None of this would’ve happened if you were.”

His frown deepened. “Because I couldn’t nag you about what was going on?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have a constant reminder of what I’m drinking about,” You groaned and buried your head in your arms on the table, facing away from him. “Of what I can’t have.”

This took him back for a long moment, just staring at you, wondering exactly how he was meant to take a comment like that, and what it meant. Whatever it was, it was hurting you, and if he could do something about that, he would.

Gently, he rested a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N-”

“I love you, okay?” You said, a little angrily, sitting upright and shooting him an angry glare, which was only half effective in your intoxicated state. “I’m in love with you, you trench coated idiot, making me just a drunken idiot. Now, give me that bottle back.”

Castiel was taken back for such a long moment that he just watched you as you practically dived onto the table to grab for the bottle. It snapped him out of it when the bottle moved a little, threatening to teeter off of the edge, before he grabbed he, tugging you back. A brief struggled ensued, but he soon had you back in your seat.

“Y/N, stop.” He said a little firmly, holding yours hands to try and keep you still. “You’ve had more than enough.”

You shook your head wildly, still trying to get free. “No, no I haven’t, because now I need to drink that away too, or at least until I don’t remember saying it.”

A smile tugged at his lips, despite your struggles. “Are you not even going to wait for me to have a response to it?”

You stopped fighting him and shyly met his gaze, being unusually still, your voice quiet. “What?”

Castiel shook his head, slowly letting go of yours hands. “When you’re sober, we’ll talk.”

“You can’t do that!” You said after a moment of silence. “You can’t just say that and then not say anything else!”

“I can, and I am.” He said gently. “Because you are in no condition to properly talk about it. So, water, then bed. If you’re lucky, we’ll get to do so in private before Sam and Dean turn up.”

“No.” You stood up too quickly, your legs getting caught on the chair and quickly over balancing you. Luckily, Castiel was there to catch you before you could hurt yourself further.

“Yes.” He said softly, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you standing. “Come on. I will carry you if I have to.”

Finally, you sighed, and sunk against him, letting him get you to your room. “Promise we can talk? Even though I’ve no doubt made a complete arse of myself.”

Castiel smiled, sitting you down on your bed and pouring you a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table, handing it to you. “I promise.”

#supernatural #castiel #castiel x neutral reader #castiel x reader

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chincilla-on-the-moon · 4 years ago

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“I like you too idiot.”- Connor Murphy X Reader

Request: can u do a connor x reader where reader is being pretty annoyed with Jared on the first day (like when he calls him a school shooter) and he steps in and defends her leading timo a nice friendship and a love confession from Connor at the end? I’m sending love, and if u can’t it is really ok, everyone’s mental health is important, pls don’t feel overwhelmed 💕✨🦋- Anon

Word Count: 2,542

Warnings: A couple swears and Jared Klienman being a dick. (also Connor is probs written ooc but whatever)

Authors note: Hi everyone! First of all I just want to say thank you to everyone who requested something! I am trying to work on them but I recently fell into a really bad place mentally but I’m working on making it better. I hope to have the other requests out soon but please be patient with me. Also anon I used they/them pronouns for the reader as those are my pronouns and I want to make sure everyone can I enjoy my writing regardless of gender so I hope that okay. As always thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day/night! :) <3 (Also any feedback is very appreciated. )

First day of senior year. To say you weren’t excited would be the understatement of the century. Sure you were excited to finally get out of your hometown but you had to get through the school year first and if the previous years were any indication of how this year was going to go, well lets just say it's going to be a long year.

You pulled into the student parking lot in your shitty car and saw there were a couple extra minutes before you actually had to be in the building, With that in mind you decided to just put your head down on the steering wheel for a few minutes to prepare yourself for the day ahead.

That peace was short lived though because not even 30 seconds later did a dark truck pulled up next to you. Before the car could even come to a stop Zoe Murphy flew out of the passenger seat. She flipped off the driver, who you presumed was her brother Connor, and slammed the door before storming off into the school. “Jesus” you mutter to yourself. Then another door slammed and Connor Murphy appeared in front of the truck, talking and gesturing wildly to himself. You could only make out bits and pieces of what the boy was saying before he went into the school like his sister. You heard him say something about his mom and his bitch sister and not even wanting to be there. Well at least you weren't alone in the feeling. Following the Murphy siblings you begrudgingly went into the building. The friendly secretary greated you and handed you your schedule which had your locker number on it. After searching for a few minutes you found it and just as you were starting to put things in your locker you heard his voice, Jared Klienman. He was talking to Evan Hansen and you prayed to whatever higher being that could hear you that he would leave you alone. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t L/N.” You could practically hear the shit-eating grin he had on his stupid face. You were about to turn around and tell him to go away but before you could someone comes between the two of you blocking Jared from your view.

“Fuck off Klienman” says the last person you expected, Connor Murphy.

“Woah calm down Murphy, I’m just trying to have a conversation with Y/N here” Jared says starting to back up and putting his arms up as a way of showing his surrender.

“Well they obviously don’t want to talk to you. Now get out of here before I punch that stupid smirk off your dumb face,” Connor says squaring off his shoulders in an attempt to look even more intimidating than usual. It worked quite well because Jared was practically running off but not before making a dig at Connor.

“Yeah whatever you fucking freak.”

You saw Connor’s shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists. You didn’t know what to do but figured it would be best to leave the boy alone, so you just fidgeted with your hands. He took a deep breath then turned to face you.

“Uhm thanks for that. You really didn’t have to,” you say avoiding eye contact with him, which was quite easy considering how tall he was compared to you.

“No problem, I know how much of a dick Klienman can be.”

“Yeah he’s the worst,” you say scoffing lightly. Then the bell signaling you were supposed to be in homeroom rang.“See you around Connor. Thanks again,” you say before turning to shut your locker and rush to class.

“Yeah see you around,” Connor says to no one because you were already down the hall.

The rest of the day wasn’t much better, nothing happened in particular but it just still wasn’t the best. After what felt like an eternity it was finally the last bell of the day, creative writing. You weren’t particularly interested in writing but you had a bell to fill so you figured why not. When you walked in you did a scan of the room and saw Connor, he had an empty seat next to him at the back of the room so you decided to sit it in. “Hey,” you say, startling the boy who was previously staring into space.

“Oh hey.”

“Thanks again for this morning, I really appreciate it dude,” you say making eye contact with Connor so he would know you actually meant what you were saying.

“Oh yeah, it was nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving you a small smile. You smiled back just as your teacher walked in which caused the conversation to end.

“Good afternoon class! I hope all of your days have been tolerable,” says your teacher Mr. Davidson. He was a younger man in his early 30’s which meant everyone liked him including you. “Instead of doing an ice breaker where you all lie about how interesting your summers were I want you to get to actually get to know someone in this class a little better,” he says from behind his podium at the front of the class. You were starting to panic a little, who were you going to partner up with? None of your kind of friends were in this class! Then Connor cleared his throat grabbing your attention.

“Hey Y/N, wanna be partners?” The nervous energy was practically radiating off the boy. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sure Connor.” The two of you then got up and turned your desks to face each other like the other pairs were doing. “So Murphy what’s your deepest darkest secret?” you say, smirking.

“Woah L/N, not even going to ask me my favorite color or anything?” he says chuckling.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you say playfully rolling your eyes. “What’s your favorite color Connor?”

“Dark green. What about you L/N? What's your favorite color?”

“Y/F/C,” you say. “It’s been my favorite since I was younger,” you say shrugging.

“I respect that. It’s a good color.”

“Yeah whatever, now can I hear your deepest secret?”, you say almost like a child.

“Wow you’re still on this?”, he says with amusement evident in his tone.

“Yeah I am!” you say in a mock seriousness. “Mr. Davidson says we are supposed to actually get to know each other and that’s what I’m trying to do Murphy!”

“You’re absolutely right Y/N,” he says suddenly very serious.

“Okay fine I’ll tell you but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone.

“Not a soul,” you say staring at him intently and sitting at the edge of your seat.

“Well, here goes nothing.” He made eye contact and it felt as if he was staring into your soul. “I’m pregnant.”

You maintained eye contact until you actually processed what he said, then the two of you started laughing which caused the rest of the class to turn and look at you but for once you didn’t even care because you were actually happy for the first time in what felt like forever.

The rest of the class went by faster than you or Connor wanted it to, but the two of you walked out to the student parking lot together and paused when you reached your cars. “Uh see you tomorrow I guess,” you say but it comes out as more of a question.

“Yeah see you tomorrow Y/N”, Connor says very confidently which surprised you both. You waved as a final goodbye and got into your cars. As you were driving home you thought about all the awful things you heard about Connor in the past and how untrue they were. Sure he was intimidating at first glance but he’s six feet tall for goodness sake who wouldn’t be intimidated by that. You could tell from the short class period you spent getting to know him that he was simply misunderstood. Suddenly you were glad you never listened to what all the popular kids said about Connor.

As the school year went on you and Connor developed a sort of unspoken ritual, you would wait for Connor to get to school then you two would walk to homeroom together and then walk to your cars when the school day was over. The two of you became good friends and you found yourself actually looking forward to waking up in the morning so you could see him. The pair of you had hung out outside of school a few times and you had actually met Connor’s mom, granted it was an accident but it still happened.

You and Connor decided to hang out at his house because his family wasn’t home that afternoon, the two of you were lounging on the couch watching some weird movie when you heard the front door open. “Connor dear? Is that you in there?” Suddenly an middle aged woman with red hair appeared with reusable grocery bags in her hands.

“Mom?!” Connor jumped up from the couch in a panic. “I thought you had yoga today?!”

“Class was canceled because Cindy wasn’t feeling well. Oh I stopped by the store and got those snacks you asked for!” she said coming into the living room box in hand. “Oh? Connor, who's your friend?” she said with a small smile appearing on her lips.

“Hi Mrs. Murphy. I’m Y/N,” you said nervously.

“Oh call me Cynthia dear,” she said, shooting you a smile.

After that Cynthia invited you to stay for dinner but you already had plans with your parents that night. She invited you a couple times after that as well. You never actually went cause Connor didn’t want you to but still it was nice to know she liked you enough to invite you to dinner.

As fall came to a close the two of you became attached at the hip, constantly talking to one another whether it was in person or through the phone. Once the holiday season rolled around you guys got each other gifts. You got Connor a signed book from his favorite author and he got you a vinyl you had been wanting for a while.

Once the holiday break was over the end of the first semester came quickly and you couldn’t wait to finally be done with your half year courses and start the new ones. Unfortunately you had to take finals before you could be done. Although you only had two finals you were still extremely stressed out. Sure they were easy classes but the teachers were notorious for giving impossible finals. You spent the few days before the finals studying whenever there was a free moment. Connor knew you were stressed so he helped you the best he could. He offered to have study sessions even though none of his classes had finals, he went over quizlets on video calls, and he even brought you a drink with way too much caffeine on the mornings he knew you didn’t sleep.

Once the day arrived he texted you good luck. You went into the first test and totally nailed it. Before the next testing time there was a break and when you checked your phone you saw Connor had texted you telling you how proud he was of you for studying so hard and reassuring you that you had these exams in the bag. You sent him a quick “thank you :))” and went into the testing room for the second time. This exam was a little harder than the last but you still thought you did decent. There were a couple times where Connor and his stupid mneumonic devices actually came in handy. Letting out a giant breath of relief as you stepped out of the testing room you couldn’t wait to tell Connor about how much he helped. When you reached your locker and got your phone out of it you saw Connor had asked if you wanted to hang out when you were done. Obviously you said yes and told him to pick you up at your house in 15. You drove home and changed out of your testing outfit which was just sweatpants and a hoodie and put on something a little more presentable. Sure you were just going to hang out with your best friend but he also is the boy you’ve been pining over for months. You’ve always found Connor attractive and when he put dickhead Klienman in his place that made him all the more hot. But then you really got to know him and you fell. Hard. He was sweet, caring, smart, and funny. Sure he had his moments but so did everyone on the planet. He had actually opened up to you about his struggles with his mental health and you did everything you could to support him. You encouraged him to ask his parents for therapy, and always made sure he took his meds in the morning. You were there for him and he was always there for you.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the horn of Connor’s truck outside your house. You rushed outside and got into the passenger seat, “So where to Murphy?”

“I was thinking we could get some food and just chill in a parking lot somewhere. Sound cool?”

“Definitely. I’ve missed hanging out with you. Stupid finals,” you say with a dramatic eye roll.

“Yeah I’ve missed hanging out with you too dork,” he says reaching over the center console and ruffling your hair.

“Connor Murphy! I just brushed my hair and here you go messing it up!” you say while trying to fix your now disbelieved hair.

“Whatever L/N. It still looks fine to me.” Although it was barely a compliment, heat still rushed to your cheeks. He pulled out of your driveway and the two of you were off. On the way to get food you guys caught up talking about everything you missed in the world of Connor because you were too focused on finals. He told you he finished a TV show you recommend and loved it. You made it to the drive through and Connor ordered, already knowing what you wanted from your many midnight outings. Once you got your food you made your way to the plaza parking lot where the restaurant was located. For the first couple minutes the two of you sat in a comfortable silence listening to the playlist Connor had made for this type of occasion. After a few minutes Connor suddenly spoke, “Can I tell you something?”

“Connor dearest you know you can tell me anything,” you say with a french fry in your mouth, not even bothering to look at him.

“I like you.” You choked on the fry you had in your mouth.

“Pardon?” you say through a cough.

“I said I like you,” he says, a little less sure of himself. When you looked over at Connor you saw he was staring straight ahead.

“Hey Connor.”

“Mhm,” he says, not daring to move.

“Look at me.” He just barely turned his head towards you. “I like you too idiot.”

#connor murphy #Connor Murphy x Reader #connor murphy fanfiction #connor murphy x you #connor murphy fanfic #x reader #Broadway #dear evan hansen #Cynthia Murphy #zoe murphy #jared klienman #evan hansen #dear evan hansen fanfic #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen x you #broadway x reader #broadway fanfic #Character x Reader

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your-nerd-is-showing · 4 years ago

Text

To Tame A Wild Heart

Combined fanfic with @mguqiis WC 5.3K 13 pages long! This will be a complete fanfic I have 3 different ones I will be posting here.

Satoru Gojo the college campus hottie, his reputation of him getting around proceeds him. Every girl wants a piece of him and many have gotten a piece already. Then one day you transfer into one of his classes and he sets his eyes on you. He wants you but you’re unobtainable, that drives him crazy making him want you even more. No one ever, ever says no to Satoru Gojo. Every single one of your friends warned you about him but you didn’t listen…. You thought you were special to him and could tame him…. Maybe you can….

Chapter one: Welcome to Freshman Year

It was the third week of school and you were able to finally transfer into Advanced Placement Writing for your major. You made your way into the classroom and went all the way to the top away from everyone. To your classmates and friends you were (F/N) (L/N) but to the internet, you were known as Yoru-Chan famous smut writer of the series When a God Falls. You pulled out your laptop to work on your latest book, instantly getting sucked into your writing the world around you disappeared.

~Takara looked deeply into Fudo's endless ocean blue eyes as he pounded into her. “F-Fudo I m-missed you soooooo muchhhhh!” She moaned out as she slammed down on his cock hard.

“I missed you too my love.” He leaned up to kiss Takara deeply, she wildly attacked his lips as she entangled her fingers in his soft white hair.~

You faintly heard the bell ring, suddenly someone was tapping you on your shoulder bringing you back to reality. You looked up at a young man with white hair and the most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen…. “No fucking way…. Fudo?” You mumbled to yourself as you got lost looking at him.

The young man just smiled at you. “Hello my name is Satoru Gojo.”

“Oh-oh hello my name is (F/N) (L/N). It’s nice to meet you Gojo.” You replied shyly.

“Please call me Satoru.” He smiled at you again. “So whatchya working on?”

“Oh! Its n-nothing just a story of mine.” You said dismissing the subject.

“I would love to hear about your story.” Gojo said as he leaned in closer to you.

“M-maybe another time….” You said shyly as your cheeks turned red.

“Okay class listen up!” Started the professor. “Today we are picking partners for your projects! By the end of the year I want an entire book written minimum of fifteen chapters!”

The class groaned in annoyance.

You were sitting on the edge of your seat very excited for this.

“Come on guys don’t give me that! This is going to be a fun assignment! Anything goes in your book!”

Your eyes widened in wonder. “A-anything?” You said to yourself.

Gojo looked at you. “Pssssst (Y/N).”

You glanced at him. “What is it Satoru?”

“Will you be my partner?” He flashed you a sexy smile.

You turned bright red. “Uh-uhhhh wh-why do you want to be m-my p-pa-partner?” You stammered.

Gojo took your hands in his. “Because I see how excited you are for this project and I want to be partnered with someone who has a passion like I do for writing.”

You took your coat, hat and glasses off revealing your beautiful body and captivating (E/C) eyes. You had a cute punk look going for you wearing a black skin tight shirt with holes cut in all the right places, cut up jeans with fishnets peeking out of the holes and combat boots.

“Damn little hottie has a body. Now that is something I would like a go at.” Gojo thought to himself as he looked you over his ocean orbs stopping on your big breasts.

“So what do you say?” He looked at you.

You tucked your long (H/C) hair behind your ears. “Uh-uhhh we-well.” Your eyes darted around and noticed a group of girls were coming your way. “What is he super popular or something? I mean he is absolutely gorgeous.” You thought to yourself. “Wait Satoru Gojo I have heard about him! He’s a Sophmore and I heard he gets around with the girls on campus…. What am I about to get myself into?...”

“Y-yes I will be your partner!” You said really loudly drawing attention to yourself.

Gojo smiled at you. “Wonderful!”

You and Gojo looked over at the group of girls, they looked like they wanted to kill you.

“AHEM!” The professor cleared his throat gaining the classes attention again. “As I was saying anything goes in your stories! You’re adults now I want to see you push your limits step out of your comfort zones! Write something gruesome! Write some smut I will allow it!”

Your eyes almost fell out of your head when the professor said that.

“Okay now go pair up and start discussing your books!”

Gojo turned to you. “I can see the wheels turning in your head (Y/N)-chan, what are you thinking about for our book?”

You tapped you chin. “Hmmmm.” You took out a notebook and a pen. “Well what kind of books do you like to read?”

“Oh! I love fantasy, folklore, sci-fi…. Hmmmmm oh!” Gojo motioned you to move closer to him. “My guilty pleasure is the web novel series When A God Falls by Yoru-Chan.”

Your eyes grew wide. “No way….” You mumbled.

Gojo's eyes lit up. “You know the series? Oh my God I am obsessed with Yoru-Chans writing it’s amazing! Plus Fudo reminds me a lot of myself.”

“That’s for sure you certainty have his charming personality and good looks.” You muttered to yourself.

“What was that?” Gojo asked.

“Oh nothing…. So I’m taking a wild guess you want smut in our story?” You said smugly.

He placed his hand on your leg. “I was hoping we could write from personal experience.” He looked at you his ocean blue orbs filled with lust.

You removed his hand from your thigh. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am but I don’t jump into some random guys bed that easily Satoru. Are you extremely attractive? Yes you are, but you’re going to have to try harder than that mister.” You stuck out your tongue revealing a piercing.

He raised his eyebrow. “So there is a chance?” He said smugly. “Then challenge accepted! I’m taking you out to dinner tonight!”

“W-wa-wait just a minute.” You said getting very flustered as you fiddled with your hands.

“What you don’t want to be taken out by the hottest guy in school?” He said smugly.

“I mean I do but this is moving all so quickly.”

He smiled at you again. “Baby girl I am Satoru Gojo I do not take things slow.” He placed his hand back on your thigh.

“Well I’m not the type to move fast, I have heard about you reputation Satoru you never get into a relationship with any girl and I am not looking for a random fling.” You said removing his hand yet again.

He grabbed your hand and leaned in close to you. “Like I said (Y/N) challenge accepted.” He winked at you. “Now do you have any other classes today?”

“No this is my last class.”

“Perfect! Do you have any plans this weekend?”

“N-no?” You stammered.

He smiled at you.

“What are you scheming Satoru?”

The bell rang for class to end, Gojo held out his hand for you to take, you did so.

“This weekend my dear you are mine.” He smirked at you. “Let’s go out for lunch then back to my apartment. Sound good to you?”

“O-okay that sounds good.” You packed up your bag, Gojo wrapped his arm around you making you freeze up. Your heart was trying to beat out of your chest.

Gojo took you out to a very nice sushi restaurant for lunch.

“Damnit why of all people Satoru is…. He is the spitting image of Fudo….. Literally the man of my dreams and he’s a player….” You thought to yourself letting out a frustrated sigh.

Gojo tightened his grip around your hand making you look up at him. “What are you thinking up in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You shook your head and laughed. “Boy you are so smooth, it’s laughable how hard you’re trying to get in my pants.” You patted his hand.

“When I set my eyes on someone I like I won’t give up until I make them mine.” He held your hand.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh so very charming. How many girls have you used that line on?” You said sarcastically. “Too bad I see right through you Satoru. Those sweet compliments and a sexy smile might work on every other girl… that just means they’re easy to get into bed. I am a much more complex woman who isn’t as easily swayed just by your good looks.”

He leaned in close to you. “So what do you want?”

“A-a love like Takara and Fudo.” You started.

“Ohhhhh so you do read the series!?” Gojo got all happy.

You blushed. “Y-yes I do read it.” You said shyly.

“Hm? There’s more to it isn’t there?”

A small huff left your lips, though the pink which scattered your delicate cheeks stayed. “There isn’t. You shouldn’t pry in others’ affairs.” You said defensively.

You let out a small sigh, thinking to yourself. “This is absolutely ridiculous. I’m ridiculous!” You had the urge to smack yourself at the nearest wall, but right now wasn’t the best time and place.

“There’s something off with how she suddenly reacted like that…” Gojo thought to himself.

“How about we just go to your apartment?”

“Aren’t you eager ‘Ms. I’m different from other girls!’?”

“Not particularly…” You turned your nose up.

“What?”

“I-It’s not what you think!” You said in a huff.

“What I think? Sweetcheeks, just what do you mean by that? How scandalous of you-“

“No! It’s not like that!” You backed up.

“I mean, why else would you go to a guy’s place?” Gojo moved closer to you.

“I said its not like that!”

“Keep it up and I’ll seriously continue to think you’re some closet pervert.”

“P-Please don’t!” You stammered as your face turned redder by the second.

“Her face is so red, can’t help but tease her.” Gojo thought to himself and chuckled.

---

You stepped into his apartment looking around surprised. “It’s so clean.” You said in amazement.

“I'm kinda offended by that (Y/N),” He replied sounding kind of hurt. “you make it sound like all I do is get it with girls!” He walked over and took your jacket.

“Isn’t that exactly what you do..?” You scoffed mumbling to yourself.

“Huh? Said somethin’?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing at all!”

He turned around and walked closer to you.

You backed up into a wall slightly intimidated by Gojo's God- like features.

He put his arm on the wall and looked deep into your eyes. “Now that we’re alone… Wanna tell me just what about that book got your panties in a twist?”

“W-What do you mean?” You shuddered averting your eyes from his gaze.

“You know exactly what I mean. Why else would you smile when I mentioned it? Or the way you just dismissed it when I asked about it? You’re definitely hiding something, (Y/N).”

“N-No I’m not! I…” You started getting defensive again trying to hide your nervousness.

He tilted your head up to look at him. “Yes you are (Y/N).” He leaned in closer to you. “Look at the way you’re acting right now.”

“Shit… he just looks so much like him. It’s just to hard to resist…” You Thought to yourself.

“Cat got your tongue? Should I help you fix that?”

“Fudo I-!”

“...Did you just call me ‘Fudo’?”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” You thought to yourself.

“Why on earth did you call me ‘Fudo’? Don’t tell me you’re in love with the main character!?” He smirked at you getting an idea.

“Don’t be so shy love.” He gently grabbed your butt picking you up as he leaned into your neck.

Your skin was getting hotter by the second as Gojo pressed his body against yours. “F-fuck why is he doing this!? This is exactly like the first time Takara and Fudo met!” You thought to yourself your breathing getting heavier as Gojo pressed his soft lips against your neck.

“F-Fudo wh-what are you doing?” You wined out.

Gojo stopped and looked at you with his ocean orbs. “What ever do you mean Takara?” He leaned in close to your lips.

“F-fuck why are you doing this?” You shook your head coming back to your senses. “No Satoru please stop. This isn’t what I want.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You were really getting into it (Y/N).”

“Getting into what?” You asked looking confused.

“Roleplaying? I’ve never tried it before but roleplaying this book would be a lot of fun and seeing as you look a lot like Takara who is totally hot-“

“Roleplaying? You mean like acting out different characters?”

“Uh yea? What did you think I-“

“I mean I did model Takara after myself….” You mumbled a bit too loud and Gojo heard you.

“Woah wait just a minute! What do you mean you ‘modeled Takara after yourself'?”

“Huh?” You looked at him. “Oh shit…. Ummmm.”

“Okay (Y/N)! Spit it out!” Gojo yelled as he tickle attacked you.

You flailed about. “Noooooo Satoruuuu stoppppp!” You wiggled in his grip as he tickled your sides, you started to laugh. “Hehehe Satoruuuuu!” You continued to flail trying to free yourself, you managed to knock Gojo over landing on top of him.

Gojo locked you in a bear hug. “Ha I caught you! You’re not getting away until you tell me what in the hell you’re talking about.” He came dangerously close to your lips. “Now tell me my dear (Y/N).”

“Uhhhhh.” You studdered becoming a hot mess in Gojo's arms.

Gojo looked deep into your eyes giving you the puppy dog stare pleading with you. “Pleaseeee?” He kissed your cheek.

“Damn you Satoru.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “I….. Am Yoru-Chan.”

His eyes widened in amazement. “No fucking way seriously!? You’re Yoru-Chan!?” He let go of you giving you a dumbfounded look.

“What!? Why is that so hard to believe? Do you want me to show you some of the new book?” You asked taking out your lap top.

“I just never expected the writer of a famous internet smut novel be a cute little punk girl…. And a Freshman in college at that! The way you write about sex and describe it is like how someone with year’s of experience would write…. My closet pervert theory is standing with you!” He laughed teasing you more.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as your cheeks flushed a deep red. “H-hey now! I am not a closet pervert! For your information I am still a virgin!” You yelled as those words spilled out of your mouth you realized what you just blurted.

Gojo looked at you wide eyed. “You're a virgin and you write like that!? Oh my God….” He took you in his arms. “well then why don’t you write from personal experience?”

“Hey cool it Fudo!” You growled pushing Gojo off of you.

He smirked. “You really did model Takara after you, shy but defensive personality. This is going to be fun! Okay I want to take you out to dinner and a club after. I’ll walk you to your dorm so you can get clothes for the weekend.”

“Uhhhhh I don’t know if that’s a good idea my roommate Utahime is not a fan of you at all…. She might get really pissed off.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be fine! I insist a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be walking around on your own.” He smiled at you and handed you your coat. “Plus you don’t know how to get back here from your dorm.”

“Okay you got me there.” You admitted as he helped you put your coat on.

Gojo opened the door and a girl was standing there. “Oh! Yuki what are you doing here?”

Yuki looked at you. “Uh Gojo we had a date today?”

“Oh.” Gojo laughed nervously. “Sorry Yuki I need to cancel I have an important project that’s most of my grade in AP Writing and (Y/N) is my partner.”

Yuki laughed. “So why not ditch the nerd and let her write it?” She gestured to you. “Then we can go out! You’ve never cared about school this much before or ever hung around a goth girl. Gojo what’s up with you?”

“Excuse me who are you calling a nerd and giving labels to?” You butted in. “How would you like it if I said you looked like an escort.” You said looking at Yuki who was wearing a skin tight leather dress with a plunging neckline.

“Well I would like to be escorting Gojo out on a date!” She said angrily not even getting what you just called her.

You looked at her dumbfounded. “Well I am sorry Yuki but he is working on a project with me and taking me out tonight. I'm sure you have plenty of other men you can go out with. Why not message one of them?”

“Why I ought to!”

Gojo locked the door behind him and walked away with you. “Oh! Yuki don’t bother messaging me ether, this young lady will be taking up most of my time now. Bye!” He wrapped his arm around you.

“That little whore just thinks she can come in and take my favorite man from me! Oh she has another thing coming!” Yuki stormed off in the other direction.

“I'll be taking up most of your time now? Really Satoru? I heard you never spend more than a week with the same girl.”

“Well maybe I’m trying something new.” He smiled at you. “Now which dorm is yours?”

You pointed to the left. “The freshman dorms are over there.” He took your hand in his walking with you to the dorms.

People were gawking at you as you walked hand in hand with Gojo.

“Tch look at the new arm ornament Gojo has this week.” A girl with blue hair scoffed. “Poor girl will learn soon enough that he is going to leave her just like he does to every other girl. Poor little naïve Freshman doesn’t know what’s coming! Haha!”

“Sa-Satoru I feel like I’m being put on display…. And I don’t like it at all. Everyone is staring at us!” You said becoming flustered.

“Shhhhh it’s okay (Y/N).” He wrapped his arm around you again and kissed the top of your head so everyone could see.

“I don’t know something seems different about him with that girl…. He would never wrap his arm around a girl or kiss their head like that.” Said one of the girls friends. “Pfft imagine someone like her catches the heart of Satoru Gojo its laughable!”

All of the girls laughed.

A beautiful tall blonde approached you and Gojo. “Hey Gojo what’s with the charity case?” She asked pointing at you.

“What the fuck!?” You growled. “Is there some sort of issue with who I am and how I dress!?”

“Calm down (Y/N) you’re beautiful just the way you are.” Gojo smiled at you completely ignoring the girl as he walked past her.

“B-but Satoru both girls who approached to talk to you made fun of how I dress….. Now I’m never one to be insecure about who I am however, the two girls looked like models compared to me…. I’m not the usual type of girl you go out with am I?”

“Hmmmmm now that you mention it no you’re not, but that doesn’t matter to me. Like I said (Y/N) when I girl catches my eye I don’t give up.”

“And what about a girl- Hey!” You yelled as someone pulled you away from Gojo. “Utahime what are you doing?”

“(Y/N) can I talk to you?” Utahime glared at Gojo as he followed. “Alone!” She stormed off with you.

“Wait at least let him in the building!” You pulled away from Utahime to let Gojo in. “I told you she didn’t like you.” You sighed. “I’m in room 345 on the third floor just meet me up there.” You said before Utahime pulled you away again.

“What was I doing here again?” You thought to yourself as you stared at your overnight bag trying to ignore Utahime.

“Seriously (Y/N)! You can’t just stay with Satoru Gojo! He’s bad news!” Shouted Utahime bringing you back to reality.

“How many times have you told me that..?” You rolled your eyes as you walked over to your closet to grab clothes. “Hmmmmm now what should I wear?” You asked yourself as you looked through your mostly black wardrobe. Your eyes fell on your beautiful purple corset dress. “That’s perfect for tonight! Hmmmmm now what else? Maybe I should start dressing more like Takara, Satoru would like that….”

“I’ll keep repeating myself if I have to, (Y/N)! Satoru Gojo is not to be trusted if you want your heart broken!” She said trying to convince you not to go. “Please be smart about this and take my advice! Don’t go!”

“We’re going to study.” You said as you packed up a couple of skirts and cute tops to go with them.

“Shut up, you’re sleeping over for the weekend!” She yelled as she took out your sexy night gown and thongs. “Look at yourself (Y/N) you were just saying that Gojo would like it if you dressed like the character of your book!? Wait does he know that you’re Yoru-Chan?”

“I’m going, Utahime. There’s nothing you can do about it.” You finished packing your bag.

“(Y/N)! I’m warning you! He is a player!”

“Yeah, yeah just text me if there’s an emergency, okay?” You patted her shoulder as you turned to leave.

“That’s if you’re not already on your knees for him!” She scoffed. “You better fucking answer.”

“H-Hey! That’s not funny!” You said getting flustered.

“Then don’t go!” Utahime pulled on your arm.

“But mooooom, it’s an assignment that’s most of my grade! I have to go!” You said sarcastically as you opened the door to leave.

“Did you just call me your ‘mom’?— hey! (Y/N)! Come back here!” Yelled Utahime as you snuck out. She followed you out into the hall and saw you walking away with Gojo, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Dumbass.”

—

“So, Yoru-chan.” Gojo started.

“P-Please don’t call me that in public Satoru….” You said shyly as your cheeks flushed pink.

“Hehe, can’t help it. Still need to process someone as beautiful as you wrote such interesting stories.” He pulled you into his arms.

“S-Satoru!” You squeaked as he gently groped your butt.

“Fiiiiiiine, I’ll stop!”

silence….

“Thank you for walking me to my dorm and back.” You smiled at him

“It’s the least I should do for my precious Takara.” Gojo said flashing you a sexy smirk.

“You said you’ll stop the teasing!” You said getting a bit defensive.

“Kinda lied.” He chuckled as he unlocked his door.

You rolled your eyes. “What have I done?” You mumbled.

“Hmmmm you caught the eye of hottest guy on campus, that’s what you’ve done!” He said happily.

“Yeah too bad this gorgeous man is total player!” You said getting upset. “You know just my luck the man of my dreams-“

“Wait I’m the man of your dreams?” He looked at you confused.

“Well Fudo was modeled after the man of my dreams and you’re the real life Fudo sooooooo….. Yeah you kinda are.”

“Well if I were to truly become the man of your dreams….” Gojo held you in his arms. “what would you want me to do? Other than the obvious cutting out every girl I have ever hooked up with.”

“Hmmmmm well lets go out tonight and I will tell you after! Wait are you seriously willing to change for me?” You looked at him astonished.

He sighed. “Well seeing as Takara is the woman of my dreams and I have found my real life Takara, yes I am!” He kissed your cheek.

“You do know it is going to take a lot of proving yourself for me to trust you Satoru.”

He kissed your nose. “Challenge still accepted beautiful! I’m not giving up on you (Y/N)!”

You sighed. “Well I guess I don’t have a choice now do I?” You laughed.

“Oh you’ve had plenty of chances to leave but you haven’t yet, so I think you want this just as much as I do (Y/N).” He leaned in close to your lips.

You started to get warm and very flustered.

“Am I wrong my dear?”

You gave him a kiss on his lips. “Is that enough of an answer for now? I’m still not sure myself….. But I do know I don’t want to leave….. I’m looking forward to this weekend.” You smiled at him.

He smiled back and he took out his phone as he sat on the couch. “And to start I’m deleting all my social media and making a new Facebook that you will have the password to!” Gojo said as he started to delete apps off his phone.

“Woah hold on Satoru are you sure? You’re making it sound like I’m your g-girlfriend…”

“Well don’t you want to be (Y/N)?” He asked as he pulled you into his lap. “Don’t you want to be the girl who tamed Satoru Gojo?”

“I-I mean yes I do…. But like I said you have to do a lot of convincing for me to say yes, you are off to a good start!” You replied as Gojo handed you his phone to set up his new Facebook. “Okay the password is TakaraFudo, annnnnnnd done! What photo do you want to use?”

“I was hoping I could take a photo with you?” He asked smiling at you.

“Um sure! Why don’t we take one all dressed up for our date tonight? I don’t look very photogenic right now.” You laughed.

“You are absolutely beautiful right now!” He replied as he wrapped his arms around you taking a cute photo of the two of you. “See?” He showed you the photo.

You looked at it. “Yes I know I am beautiful, but I want to look even better! Hey can you send me that photo please?”

“Sure what’s your number?”

“It's 080-5555-2567.” You glanced down to see Gojo put you in his phone as ‘My Beautiful Takara'. Your phone buzzed and you looked at the message with the photo ‘I’m putting this as my background on my phone <3 you are so beautiful!’ You smiled at the sweet message and put Gojo in your phone as ‘My Wonderful Fudo'.

“What am I doing….?” You thought to yourself.

“Would you care for a drink (Y/N)?” Gojo asked you.

“Do you have mango sake? That’s my favorite!”

“Uhhhhh, yes I think I do! I’ll be right back with that for us!” He got up and went to the kitchen.

“What am I getting myself into? God he really is so smooth I’ve barely known him a day and I’m already acting like a fangirl! Come on (Y/N) you’re better than this....” You sighed. “But he’s so handsome ugh, I need to get my head checked! Here I am saying I’m not like other girls but yet I agree to sleeping over his apartment for the weekend.”

“Ohhhh Takaraaaaaa! I mean (Y/NNNNN)! Sake is served!” Gojo said happily as he bounced in with the tray of sake.

You laughed. “Why thank you Satoru.” You cheered Gojo and took a shot of the sake. He poured you another shot.

“To us!” Gojo held out his cup.

“T-to us!” You cheered him again and downed the shot.

You and Gojo we’re going shot for shot, Gojo kept making up the dumbest things to toast to but he didn’t care he wanted to get you drunk so you would loosen up. About an hour passed by and you were feeling pretty good.

“F-Fudo.” You hiccuped. “I-I-I think I’m goooooood I’ve had tooooo mu-much to-to drink.” You said slurring your words.

“Hm? How drunk are you?” He asked leaning in close to you as Gojo wrapped you in his arms.

You let out a small nervous hiccup. “Drunkkkkk enough to doooooo this!” You wrapped your arms around Gojo's neck as you straddled him and kissed him passionately.

Gojo pulled you in closer deepening the kiss as he slipped his hand under your shirt.

You broke the kiss. “H-heyyy wh-what do you think you’re doing Fudo I-I mean Satoru?” You swatted his hand away “Behave! Just because I kissed you it doesn’t mean I’m giving in that easily….” You blushed. “I-I just really wanted to kiss you….”

He smiled at you. “Okay, okay I’ll behave…. For you.” He looked at you like he wanted another kiss.

You chuckled. “What do you wanna kiss me again-“

Gojo cut you off planting another kiss on your lips. He gently nibbled on your lower lip making you moan allowing entry. Instantly he invaded your mouth dancing with your tongue. He gently groped your butt making you moan again.

“Well she certainly is a horny drunk…. I wonder how far she will let me go?” Gojo thought to himself as he slipped is hand into your shirt again swiftly unhooking your bra, this time you didn’t stop him.

You broke the kiss. “Sa-Satoru you said you would behave!” You said giving him a disgruntled look.

“Heh, I lied.” He smirked at you. “Come on baby girl I can see how badly you want to give into your desires….. I see it in your eyes…. You’ve been fighting it all day....” He leaned into your neck gently kissing it. “You want me so badly right now.” He whispered teasing you.

“Sa-to-ru.” You wined out. “Yes I do want you!” You blurted out. “Fuck!” You held your hands over your mouth.

Gojo got all excited kissing you as he attempted to take off your shirt but you stopped him. “Wa-wait just a minute Satoru! I’m not done…. Yes I do want you, however I am not quite ready to give myself up that easily. So BEHAVE! Please?”

“But whyyyyyy?” He asked pleading with you.

“Have you forgotten I am a virgin? This is a big deal for me….. I always thought I would be giving it up to someone I was in love with, someone who I had been dating for a long time…. Never have I ever thought that I would be contemplating hooking up with a guy I just met…. God I really am easy!” You said getting frustrated.

“I don’t think your easy.” Gojo kissed your lips. “Not to sound bad…. Well this is gonna sound bad however I say it so I’m just gonna say it. The fastest I ever got with a girl was five minutes after I met her….”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah your right that sounded horrible…. Man-whore.” You said teasing him.

“H-hey now…. No you’re right…. Anyways what I am trying to say is most girls I meet give themselves up within a few hours of meeting me… I’ve been with you almost the entire day and you’ve stopped every advance I have made on you, which is fine I’m enjoying this immensely. I have noticed you’re letting me push your boundaries further every time I make a move on you.”

“Y-yes I am letting you push my boundaries I’m starting to become comfortable with you…. I’m starting to trust you.”

“I feel special.” He smiled and tenderly kissed your lips. “I” He kissed you again. “Can't” and another kiss. “stop” and another. “kissing” yet another kiss. “you.” He kissed your lips five more times. “I just want to spend the whole night kissing and holding you.”

You snuggled into Gojo and looked at your phone. “Uh Satoru it’s almost 8 o'clock. Don’t we have dinner and a club to go out to?”

“Oh shit we do! I lost track of time looking at your beautiful face. Let’s go get ready! I hope you brought a dress because we are going out to a fancy restaurant.”

@sassyeahhhh @mguqiis @milktaro-inc

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zahara-fire · 4 years ago

Text

Long Post Discussing Dream TWT: Featuring Fan, Hate, and Trending Talks Mostly (Interaction Absolutely Encouraged)

(A lot of this can actually be applied to all fanbases but I chose the one relevant to my current interests and issues that were on my radar.)

I made a post previously that my love for mcyts (Specifically members of the Dream SMP) was dying because of nonstop Dream hate on Twitter. I felt like I couldn't safely look through a trending tag (which will be a separate discussion in this) without having to also see endless insults, attacks, and belittlement amongst people just trying to have fun with CCs. To make this understandable and easy for me to keep on theme I'm gonna break it down into the relevant topics also this is absolutely open for discussion as long as everyone is being respectful. Do not insult people and if they seem like a troll just leave them be.

Fans vs Stans:

So this, I think, is a center point for the Dream hate. It feels that anyone expressing interest in Dream and related CCs content is immediately targeted and made fun of because obviously you can't enjoy something without being an awful person to people who don't enjoy said thing. That last statement was sarcastic (just so its clear). People especially on Twitter will be relentless in preying on just basic fans for simply posting about a funny moment. They claim its because its annoying and nonstop and all of their fans are obviously brainwashed.

No. Just. No.

Enjoying something means you consume it. If you enjoy sports you watch the team play. No one says yeah this is my favorite team I watched one game once. That would be ridiculous. So it makes no sense to attack people for watching a person's content and knowing their content when they're a fan of said content.

That being said, yes people can get carried away and be rude to people for no reason. This however includes people hating on fans simply for being fans. You can't say you're disrespectful to all fans because one time a few were rude to you. Every fan base has rude people and at this point in the internet people WILL talk more about bad than good so please don't assume the worst because you heard a story or saw one wildly talked about incident where a small percentage of fans were involved and where other fans were actively telling the others to chill out.

Trending and Interaction:

This is the topic I sort of touched on in my last post. So to summarize, Dream and his friends trend A LOT. This isn't surprising as one, they're popular at the moment and two, they're streamers so when something happens a ton of people all know at once and will post at once. That's how trending works after all.

Here's where it gets annoying though, and no, not due to fans. Fans are allowed to post about content they enjoy and are allowed to joke and interact online with people who enjoy the same content. So you can't gatekeep the trending tab. It's literally impossible and just because its not enjoyable for you and not something you're interested in doesn't mean it shouldn't be trending.

This is where interaction comes in. Twitter and pretty much every social media ever tracks what you consume. This is why Twitter actually has multiple trending pages. The "For you" trending is what we'll mostly be discussing now though. The "For you" trending is the first page it opens up and will consist of things Twitter knows you interact with. So in other words, constantly viewing Dream and related content just to get angry and insult people? Guess what! You just ensured it will constantly be on your radar. Easy solution? Don't interact with content you don't enjoy. Yes you won't always be able to avoid it but this is true for everything. Just do your best and watch out for your own interests as best as possible (this statement applies to the actual trending page as well). Unless you're intentionally interacting just so you can continue bullying people its not that hard to avoid. And if you are doing that, I feel really sorry that you don't have something you actually enjoy to consume instead of just spreading hate (this is genuine not an attack).

CC Relationships:

A lot of Dream and related creator haters often state that the creators and fans have an unhealthy relationship. This is not a fair statement to the standard fan. People who actually show obsessive traits and attack people over their creators do have an unhealthy connection, but what is not unhealthy is-

Enjoying a creators content

Following their social media

Making posts and content about creators

These actions are literally the basis of being a fan of content. So no, posting about something a creator said or did is not creepy and obsessive just because its not funny or entertaining to you. Its like when your friend does something stupid and you will randomly bring it up whenever you can because it was a funny moment. Thats essentially what this is. No, we are not friends of the creators most of the time, but we do have a relationship to the creators. Most of the time with CCs their fan base consists of people with similar interests, senses of humor, and personalities. So we can relate to the things that happen with them and their friends and since they're broadcasting it we will find it funny when they find it funny. And that's okay and shouldn't be a hot take.

Also creators saying they love their fans is not a bad thing. Platonic love of people who share in your accomplishments, support you, and encourage your growth is not a bad thing. Thats what this type of relationship is and should be with CCs. They are where they are because people connected with them and they connected with those people. Let them express that admiration and gratitude.

Joking vs Attacking:

Final rant because this is already long and probably won't get attention anyways. A lot of Dream fans have tough skin after being a part of this sudden shift to mainstream and constant hate. This means that sometimes fans will make their own jokes about hating the fans even though they are one. However, this can sometimes be extremely misleading and damaging to see. No I'm not saying you can't make these jokes after all some are actually really funny! But try to make it clear that you aren't actually a part of the people who are actively trying to tear down a fanbase. Sometimes intentions don't come across well and insults can actually be, well, insulting when not phrased correctly. This is by no means an attempt at gatekeeping but rather just a general public announcement as a fan who often times saw something that actually added to the sadness of feeling constantly attacked and belittled only to see that the poster was also a fan.

That was long and probably a little all over the place so if you made it this far just know that I appreciate you and hope you're doing well in these times. 💕 I just really needed a place to get out these thoughts and figured hey Tumblr is significantly less mean than Twitter in my experience so let's attempt this.

Final statement! If you see this in a tag you think it shouldn't be in or know a tag you think I should add please let me know! I'm still new to posting my own content and don't want to cause problems where there need not be any.

#dream smp #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #quackity #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #technoblade #badboyhalo #tubbo mcyt #fundy minecraft #ranboo #dream team #antfrost

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mingkily · 4 years ago

Text

｡☆✼★━ “friends with benefits” | s.mg ━★✼☆｡

navigation

starring: mingi x reader

fsk-0: fluff | language

volume: 5.5k words

vip access: @midnightseonghwa & @treasure-hwa & @barsformars !

“shit!”, you cursed, “shit, shit, shit!”

several other people were looking at you concernedly, but you paid them no mind, instead desperately tried to fix your hair because you’d managed to entirely ruin the hairstyle by accidentally pulling out one single hairpin, and now your incredible amounts of hair were going wild, something that wasn’t at all possible considering your texture, because while straight hair being left unstyled or put in a basic ponytail might look cute and endearing your curls very much did not, not after the stylist had brushed them - you’d look much like you managed to get a severe electric shock, something that wasn’t exactly the desired look to represent your school at one of the more prestigious dancing events in your area.

“can i like… help you?”, one brave soul dared to approach you, and this guy had balls, you had to admit, because even though you were technically just any other dancer everyone in the team knew about your fire, especially when you were angry. and looking up you knew that he must have known that, too, because he was your team’s vice captain, mingi, but maybe he hoped this position would get him mercy. it wouldn’t.

“unless you can fix my hair, you could help by leaving me alone”, you hissed, anger seeping out through every pore, but he just smiled at you in a way he hoped would be calming or reassuring, and then did something you had not at all expected.

“i could try? i can’t make promises, but we’re up in ten and the stylists are who knows where, so i’m all you got”, joking to hide his own annoyance at your stylists just having run off when this had very much been a possibility, and also annoyed that your hairstyle had been so easy to ruin when you were supposed to dance, something that everyone with a little common sense knew required people to move, and quite a lot at that.

“fine. i hope you know if i'm ruining the school's reputation because of a bad hairstyle i'm taking you down with me.”

you really did have fire, but mingi found it weirdly endearing - both of you were well aware of the height difference, yet here you were threatening him if he messed up your hair. and from the way you sounded he didn't even doubt that you'd manage to go through with that threat.

"i'll try my best. now stay still, we don't have too long left", starting to remove all the pins and whatnot from your hair in record speed because he'd need a clean canvas, so to say, and then his hands were in your hair and it didn't at all feel professional, you highly doubted that it would look professional, either, but he was right, he was all you got right now. so you just let him do his thing, hoping he'd get done before you needed to go on stage.

“two minutes!”, one of your teammates told you in a slight stage of panic, but right after that the tall vice captain seemed satisfied with his work, telling you: “try to shake your head, like, really hard, so we know it's going to work even when you're dancing.”

you did as asked and to your surprise it did hold up, much better than your stylists' attempts at a hairstyle ever had, theirs leaving you constantly scared that your hair would suddenly explode into a mess of curls as an unplanned special effect because you could feel the hair move along with every little movement; that wasn't the case with whatever he had done. your hair felt cemented into place, and while the tug at the roots was a little uncomfortable it was nothing you wouldn't be able to deal with. in fact, you preferred this over the constant fear that came without the tug at your roots.

“how's it look?”, he asked both you and the teammates, them approving before you turned to look for yourself.

it wasn't anything fancy, but it looked as professional as could be considering it was a hairstyle created in the span of maybe seven minutes by a layman, a bun that looked like it was a casual, loose one but that you could feel very much wasn't, and if you said that you'd wanted to make the two main centres (which, funnily enough, were mingi and you, him because he was vice captain and the actual captain was more of a trainer and organiser than part of the performing team and you because the fire you had when you were angry was a fire you shared when dancing and really no one else even wanted the main centre position, not when it came to competitions) look rather casual in terms of styling maybe you'd be able to pretend it was on purpose.

and it survived the entire performance, it felt like it hadn’t moved at all, leaving you able to give your all even with your upper body for the very first time ever since you started performing and your school had decided to give you stylists because you’d finally managed to be prestigious enough for that. you were happy that you could afford the stylists, even though it was only one for hair and one for makeup for the entire team, but they apparently had never had to deal with curls before, and most definitely not with thick, waist-length curls, as proven by the fact that they insisted on brushing your hair out every single performance, no matter how often you told them that that wouldn’t exactly make anything better.

after the performance, while you were waiting for the other teams to finish, mingi came up to you, and the two of you started talking at the same time.

“was dancing like that okay for you?”

“can you do my hair from now on?”

then both of you burst out laughing, the tall boy being the first to speak again.

“i take that as a yes?”, he asked you with a slightly teasing grin.

you rolled your eyes at him, but you were still grinning anyway, and then nodded your head wildly in confirmation, the bun still staying right where it was supposed to be.

“literally i’ve never felt this good during any performance. i usually try not to move my head too much because i can just feel my hair waiting to explode into everyone’s faces, but today was… heaven.”

maybe you were being a little dramatic, but your hair and the lack of expressiveness of your upper body that came with having to be careful so you wouldn’t obscure several people’s view with your unreasonable amounts of hair had actually made you dislike public performances or competitions, and being able to perform without holding back had been a nice change, one you weren’t sure you were willing to give up on again. so you asked him, again: “can you do my hair from now on? i’d do whatever it takes and if that should be the issue i’ll deal with the stylists too, just please”, so much desperation in your voice that he was about to start laughing, but then he remembered the amounts of hair he’d had to fit into the bun and stopped himself because if that did explode on stage he could see how it would be quite… unfortunate, and how feeling like it constantly might added unnecessary stress during every performance, which were already stressful enough. maybe that was why he agreed, or maybe he just liked how soft your hair had been.

“i mean, i can try? but i guess uh, i should probably practice before the next public thing, just so we can be sure it works?”

that was a good point, but after a few seconds’ thought you’d found a solution.

“you can do it after dance practice? if you have time, i mean. i usually stay longer to practice a few times by myself anyway, so we’d see if it holds up without risking anything for anyone but me.”

mingi didn’t even need to think about it before agreeing, smiling at you happily because even while he didn’t really know you yet - you barely ever talked, and if you did you only did so during dance practice and about dancing - he always loved making new friends, and it wasn’t too unlikely that he’d manage to befriend you if he got to be your personal hairstylist from now on.

first, however, you had to see if he had genuine skills when it came to taming your hair or if that one time had been sheer luck, which you did a few days later after group dance practice, when you as promised stayed longer so you could go through the choreo a few times by yourself again, having enough space and time to really do all movements, as slow and as spread out as you needed, because you’d found that it was easier to do them right in the team when you’d perfected them by yourself first, without having to take care that you wouldn’t accidentally kick anyone in the face.

“wait, your hair looks super different today”, your vice captain told you once you freed your hair from the constricts you had put it in before team practice, and you rolled your eyes, not at him but at the lady that insisted she had to brush your hair to style it when that really only made it worse.

“yeah, i didn’t brush it. makes it easier to handle.”

mingi nodded in understanding (though he really didn’t understand, because the most he’d ever dealt with on his own head was straight hair but styled to look voluminous and wavy rather than like limp noodles), examining his new canvas before asking: “do you have hair bands or something?”

at that you went over to your bag, rummaging in the front pocket and pulling out scrunchies, regular ties, those spiral hair ties that had started becoming popular, bobby pins and hairpins and the tall boy was left staring in wonder at just how many different kinds of hair taming products you carried with you on the daily.

“go wild. i have a brush too, if you really need it, but i’d rather you didn’t.”

“got it”, and with that he sat down next to your bag, patting the space in front of him so he’d have good access to your hair without having to move all your things around, trying carefully to twist your hair into different shapes just to see what might look good before he’d figure out if the laws of physics would allow for that to work.

“tell me if it hurts, okay?”, he told you quietly before looking at the - to him - huge array of different hair ties, a little overwhelmed and very inexperienced when it came to knowing in what way they differed from each other except for looks, so he asked your advice.

“which ones should i use? or are they all equally good or..?”, an open question so you could tell him whatever there was to know, which you did, and eventually he managed to replicate the bun that had made you so happy during the performance, and that made you so happy now, too, because it held up for the entire practice, a practice mingi joined because he wanted to see if he’d done okay and because he was curious and because he wanted to confirm next week’s hair styling appointment.

“you’re really good”, was the first thing he told you once you were done dancing, a comment that made you feel a little shy and flustered because if anything he was a really good dancer, and apparently really good at sensing when people were embarrassed, too, because he immediately continued: “and seems like i’ve figured out some magic trick for your hair. can i join again next week?”

you weren’t at all opposed, but worried a little that he didn’t actually want to, was just doing this to enhance the team’s performance as a vice captain should, so you wanted to be sure you weren’t wasting his time with your horrible hair that you were thinking of chopping off anyway because it was annoying.

“only if you have the time and if you really want to. i’m probably going to cut my hair soon anyway, i could just do it a little earlier and then the problem’s gone.”

as much as he knew he didn’t have any say in what you did with your hair, that thought made him just the tiniest bit sad, just because he’d found quite some enjoyment in doing your hair - it was soft, it was pretty, he liked your curls and you had a lot of it for him to style. so to think that he’d have to give up on his new hobby so soon again wasn’t exactly a thought he liked, and if there was any way he’d be able to prolong your makeover just a little longer he’d take it.

“no, i actually like it. your hair’s really soft too”, embarrassed as soon as he’d said that because you were acquaintances at most, yet here he was telling you that you had soft hair. at least he hadn’t told you that it smelled nice, because if he had he’d probably have to change schools.

in an attempt to distract from what he perceived to be a mess-up he then curiously inquired: “why do you want to cut it?”

you sighed out in a mixture of frustration and annoyance and resignation; you didn’t actually want to cut it, but you’d grown tired of having to take care of it, so cutting was really the only other option if you didn’t want a large dirty mess on your head.

“it’s just so much work, just brushing and washing and all that. takes ages and i don’t want to spend hours a week making sure i look acceptable, even though i really like my long hair. but that’s how it is sometimes”, a small, bitter smile on your face at that last sentence.

mingi’s inner monologue was one big chain of don’t embarrass yourself don’t embarrass yourself, but of course he failed.

“i mean, as i said, i like doing things with your hair. you could hire me as your stylist, so you wouldn’t have to take care of it and i’d get to play with it some more. win-win?”

then, because you didn’t immediately reply, were somewhat dumbfounded at his offer, he continued rambling.

“i wouldn’t wash it of course, that’d be weird, but i could brush it sometimes in school or i could learn how to braid or something, and then i’d actually be able to style your hair different ways for the performances and all, and-”

“you really wouldn’t mind?”, you tried to make sure, not because you didn’t enjoy the idea but because you didn’t want him to feel weird, since you were still well aware of the fact that him doing your hair when you barely even knew each other wasn’t exactly the most natural way for things to go. but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t love having people do your hair for you, both because it meant less work for you and because you just really liked how it felt.

“i really wouldn’t mind. if it’s fine with you, i mean. if it’s not weird.”

it was obvious that both of you were embarrassed, but in a way that was what made you believe him; he wouldn’t be embarrassed if he didn’t think he was being weird by genuinely wanting to do things with your hair. so your bitter smile turned into a genuine one as you accepted his proposal, mingi smiling, too, and that was how you found yourselves in the weird relationship you were in now.

the label that fit best would probably be friends with benefits, because much like with friends with benefits the two of you had become close first after the benefits were added. the only difference was that your benefits weren’t sex, they were him playing with your hair at any chance he got. he really liked it, you were able to tell after maybe two weeks of being slightly awkward still, and by now the two of you regularly alternated between sitting with your friends or his during lunch because neither of you wanted to waste time that could be spent with his hands in your hair, both friend groups quite surprised at the sudden addition, but everyone got along well so it wasn’t a problem.

“i really didn’t expect you to have this much hair”, was one of the first things mingi had told you once your little agreement had come to be, you chuckling because that didn’t even surprise you - you usually kept it up or had it braided or really just anything to control it just because that was so much easier. but now that he was regularly running his hands through your mane it was revealed regularly to not only him but also people at school just how much hair you actually had. and while you didn’t know about your fellow students you could tell your by now rather good friend was delighted.

he’d surprised you when one day he’d gotten out a brush from his own bag rather than using the one you always carried with you, and surprised you even more when you realised that it was one of the fancy curl detangling brushes that you’d never cared enough to buy, surprised both because he’d spent his own money to get you a brush and because he’d obviously spent time researching your hair type to know what kind of brush was good for curls like yours.

“you really didn’t have to, mingi”, you told him when he started brushing your hair with his newest acquisition, feeling a little guilty because part of you was still convinced he secretly hated having slid into the position of your personal hair stylist, but he gave your head a reassuring pat.

“i know, but maybe i’ll get to brush your hair twice a week now.”

and how were you to say no to that, really? he was so gentle whenever he brushed your hair, had much more mercy with your scalp than you did, had learned how to do different kinds of braids and updos so even when your hair looked like it had exploded he managed to make it look good until you’d wash it again and it would return to its original state, so of course you gave in, the wide smile on his face more of a reward than even the fact that he’d now spend even more time with his hands in your hair.

it wasn’t like that was the only kind of affection the two of you had started displaying, though, a couple weeks after that first period of being awkward had ended, him regularly pulling you into his arms or his lap by now because the closer he was to you the easier access to your hair he had, and he’d found that your hands were equally as soft as your hair that one time you’d repositioned his hands positioning a hair band, your small palms on top of his much bigger hands and he was about to melt because your hands were so soft and small and warm and now he’d be unable to stop himself from holding your hands unless you told him not to do that.

which you never did, though, so handholding was added to the benefits of your friendship, as was cuddling, neither of you uncomfortable with incredible amounts of pda because really, it couldn’t get weirder than how this friendship had started out, so in a way it felt like you were way past being embarrassed about anything. he was sweet, he made sure to never make you uncomfortable or hurt you, and spending time with him was incredibly fun, sometimes practicing your dance routines together but more often just watching movies or going on picnics or other low-key things like that.

maybe all that should have been enough to make mingi realise that he had developed feelings for you at some point, but it wasn’t, the realisation hitting when one of your friends spotted a bug in his hair during lunch and you moved to carefully removed it, having your hands in his hair rather than vice versa for the very first time, and you were both delighted and offended.

“you never told me your hair is so soft!”, you told him accusingly, a sheepish grin and the words “sorry, i didn’t even realise it is” your reply, and then you caused his brain to entirely crash because you pulled your knees up on the bench, then moved your body so you were decently kneeling next to him, your body pressed to his side and your chest way too close to his face while you rubbed your cheek against his hair, enjoying this new experience of you being the one to play with someone’s hair for once while your incredibly overwhelmed best friend was determined to look straight ahead and straight ahead only, because he knew if he were to turn his head toward you he’d faint or cry or both.

he’d probably never been more relieved than when you dropped down to your butt next to him, though his brain did buffer a little again when you moved into his lap. it wasn’t even like you didn’t usually do that, but now in this situation it was a little much for his poor hormones, you in his lap with your face in the crook of his neck and if he didn’t have your hair to play with this would probably be the death of him. and when you whined out: “why are you so perfect, it’s not fair! you’re perfect boyfriend material. you’re funny and pretty and you’re kind and you smell good and now you even have soft hair, can you give the rest of us a chance?” he knew he was done for, because the butterflies in his stomach weren’t the kind of butterflies you were supposed to get around someone you only saw as a friend.

he didn’t tell you, though, was scared of making you uncomfortable and was scared of getting his heart broken and was convinced it was just a small crush anyway so there was no need to, especially when you were such an important part of the dance team and awkward tension between the two of you would affect the entire team and every performance. so he stayed silent, determined to ignore his feelings until they went away by themselves.

then, however, you brought him a shampoo, blueberry because you figured that was a rather neutral scent for a guy and you hadn’t wanted to get one of those three-in-one shampoos, mingi looking at the bottle wide-eyed and surprised because he hadn’t expected that even when he’d gotten you some shampoo in the past as well, along with hair accessories whose purchase he excused with “i mean, in the end it is me who gets to use them, it just happens to be on your head”, and because this wasn’t technically anything odd you got insecure about the fact that this technically was “girl shampoo”, even though you found the distinction stupid and useless.

“sorry, i should’ve guessed you won’t like that. i just heard that those hair ass and balls shampoos” - with which you meant the typical three-in-one shampoos - “aren’t actually good for the hair so i figured this might be better, but it’s technically women’s so of course it’s not really good either, i kind of just wanted to get you a little something because you always get me so much and-”

your anxious rambling would probably have continued for another hour if he hadn’t interrupted you, hands enveloping yours that still clung to the shampoo anxiously, trying to smile in a way that would seem reassuring to you too, rather than mocking which you probably assumed would be the case.

“thank you, really”, voice soft and appreciative and you finally calmed down a little, “but are you saying i can’t use this on my ass and balls?”

he hoped that joke would make you smile again, and it did, such a beautiful smile that he really wanted to kiss you right now, but he wasn’t going to. not when he really couldn’t be sure you felt the same.

what he was going to do was confess to you, though, just because he might explode if he didn’t, so now it was his turn to be nervous.

“uh, but also, i kind of… probably have a crush on you. just so you know.”

that most definitely was unexpected, and you wouldn’t be able to give him the reply he was hoping for either, your smile falling a little because you didn’t want to hurt him but knew that no matter how kindly you reacted it would hurt at least a little.

“mingi, i’m sorry”, you started, “i really am”, enough to let him know that you didn’t reciprocate, but at least you were being nice about it, weren’t making fun of him for thinking you might ever care about him that way.

��no, it’s okay”, he tried to reassure, even though it didn’t really feel okay in that moment. but he knew it would be once a little time had passed.

“i didn’t really think you’d like me back anyway. but are we still friends? or would i be making things weird?”

his hands had fallen from yours by now, his eyes trained on the shampoo bottle so he wouldn’t have to look at your face, anxiety replacing the blood in his veins as he waited for your reply that he half expected to be you telling him to leave you alone from now on, no matter how close you’d been up till now. for some reason he was convinced this was going to ruin your friendship, was scared of that until you grabbed one of his hands with your free one, trying to get him to look at you again with that so he’d see that there was no negative emotion except for maybe guilt between the two of you.

“you’re not making anything weird, i promise. and if you want we could like… go on dates too? and see where that takes us. if that wouldn’t make things unnecessarily hard for you, i mean.”

that most definitely got mingi’s attention, his head jolting up to stare at you in disbelief. were you implying that you’d maybe be willing to give him a chance?

“wait, you… mean that? really?”, hopeful but still scared, because he was putting his heart out in the open right now and he couldn’t know how you were going to treat it. yes, by now he’d found out that the fire you held when you danced or were angry was never used against the people you cared about, was only used to protect them, he’d found out that you were the softest, sweetest, kindest person once you’d warmed up to someone, but maybe what he was most scared of was that he’d lost his spot among your friends now. that he’d been demoted to dance team vice captain again, an acquaintance at best. that would be much worse than the rejection.

but that wasn’t the case. you weren’t sure if he even had it in him to do something that would genuinely make you want to cut him out of your life. you did want to give him a chance, even when you didn’t really reciprocate his crush right now, because he actually was perfect boyfriend material, was gentle and understanding and you knew that even if you’d end up never reciprocating he’d still be just as sweet to you. but you didn’t want to reject him right away, or at least not fully, wanted to give both him and yourself the option to maybe eventually date; sure, your answer right now wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. your heart was saying maybe. so, in a way, you wanted to offer yourself a free trial period to tip your uncertain feelings over to either “we’re just friends” or “there’s something more there”.

“yeah, i mean that. if it’s fine with you. i don’t want you to get hurt if it doesn’t end up the way you hoped.”

to your tall, sweet best friend any chance was better than no chance, even if he wouldn’t manage to win your heart, because at least he’d tried. at least he wouldn’t have to beat himself up over the fact that he’d never actually tried winning your heart. but now that you’d told him that you’d be willing to give it a try he was going to do all he could to woo you, starting with complimenting you whenever he could, about everything, about your smile and your eyes and your hands and your outfit and your laugh and your passion and your hair and-

really, you were convinced that if he were to paint your fingernails he’d probably tell you he’d never seen prettier fingernails ever before in his life.

it was cute, though, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it adorable how he’d get so flustered whenever he’d compliment you but would do it anyway. would always get you small gifts, too. most of the time it wasn’t even anything fancy, more often than not he’d spent at most a thousand won on whatever he got, but that made it even more endearing. you’d never expected to swoon over a rock that glimmered in the sunlight, or some random black rubber that he gave you as a ring (and then drew on, smiling proudly at his creation), or over a pokémon sticker from his childhood collection that he owned in triplicate - or now in duplicate, you guessed - because it had been his favourite pokémon back then, but you did. these weren’t no-brainer gifts, you were able to tell he really put thought into them, and they were absolutely adorable.

with mingi going all out like this it was impossible not to fall in love with him, really, though you still hadn’t figured out how to let him know because while it was obvious that his feelings for you hadn’t changed you were shy to tell him that yours had, had no idea how to even start that conversation in the first place. you didn’t exactly go up to him randomly and say: “yo, mingi, i actually wanna date you now.” you couldn’t do that.

so you continued as you’d grown used to, being best friends except now you were also going on dates, but it actually was a regular best friends thing that gave you the opportunity to update him on how you felt, the regular private dance practice after your team’s one where mingi would wait for you and do your hair before you’d start dancing, and then un-style your hair once you were done, except today he was feeling particularly affectionate, holding you close to his chest as he untied your hair and then, with all the confidence he’d been able to gather while you’d been dancing: “i kind of want to kiss your neck right now. you smell really nice”, something you were half convinced was a lie because all you could smell was your sweat, but you weren’t going to call him out for that when he’d offered you an opportunity to confess on a silver plate.

“why don’t you then?”, nervous but somewhat excited at the prospect, and before he was able to change his mind or be too anxious about it the tall sweetheart pressed a small kiss to the juncture between neck and shoulder, another one first when you hadn’t moved away at all, careful and shy because with every little peck he was convinced you’d suddenly push him away and decide that it was actually weird and gross, but that didn’t happen, and it was actually him who decided to push you away slightly because he noticed you were starting to get cold, still drenched in sweat but no longer moving so of course you’d start freezing sooner or later.

“you should take a shower, i don’t want you to get sick. i’ll wait here”, a nervous smile because he wasn’t sure if you’d let him do that again after your shower or if this had been a one time thing, but he got his answer when you smiled back, nervous, too, and asked: “can i get a kiss to my mouth first so we can make it official?”

his answer was an obvious one and his smile when you came back from the shower and grabbed his hand brighter than you’d ever seen.

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magnhild · 4 years ago

Text

A Happy Review (kind of) of Ikenfell

Having ADHD means that I have a lot of trouble getting into new media if I’m hyperfixating on something else. As any follower of mine is no doubt aware, my current one is RWBY, and has been for a while. But with the show’s mid-volume hiatus underway, I ended up left in a void with nothing to fill it.

Two days ago, I had a friend reccomened to me a little indie RPG called Ikenfell. I’d never heard of it, but I was told it has a great number of LGBT+ characters, options to make gameplay easier, content warnings, and music composed by the great Aivi & Surasshu, who you might know as the composers of Steven Universe. This grabbed my interest, but I found myself sketpical that it could be that good, and that the representation, in particular, was largely exaggerated and probably just mild implication.

Nevertheless, I started the game the next day, intending to play for an hour or so before putting it down again, warning my friend that I was unlikely to get too invested in it.

Almost exactly 12 hours later, I found myself watching the epilogue play out with misty eyes, having finished the game and having gotten deeply pulled into it.

This game was everything it was promised to me and so much more. Between the representation, the accessibility options, and the overall charm of the game, Ikenfell ended up being laregly enjoyable and something truly special; a hidden gem in the plethora of video games released in 2020.

The game follows Maritte Hildegaard, a non-magical teenage girl, on the search for her yes-magical sister Safina, a witch attending the school of Ikenfell. A basic premise on the surface, but the story itself has a lot of neat little twists and turns that all come together for a satisfying story worthy of being animated someday. It probably won’t be, but hey, I can’t dream, right?

To begin with, I didn’t find myself too fond of the battle system, not because I found it flawed, but simply because I personally struggle with video game battles and they can also cause me a great deal of pain due to my connective tissue disorder and chronic shoulder pain. I was getting way too frustrated, even agaisnt smaller enemies, and was ready to put the game down after yet another failure agaisnt the same single boss. Tied alongside the fact you cannot see your enemy’s HP, making strategixing more difficult, I was ready to say that I wasn’t a huge fan of the game.

That is, until I found out about instant victory, an option in the settings that allows you to be given the chance to instantly skip literally any battle in the game, with no negative conequences and all of the rewards. For more avoid gamers, it might be tempting to mark this as a flaw that makes the game ‘too easy’, but is very much optional, and anyone who wants the challenge can play without it if they wish. But for disabled people like me, who also get easily stressed, it was an absolute Godsend that allowed me to focus more on the story and characters, which was what I really cared about.

On the note of characters, the representaion mentioned earlier is certianly no exxageration, with just about every named character being explicily LGBT+ in a way that I’ve never seen before in officially published media. I’m not just talking wlw and mlm characters, though there were plenty. No, the characters aren’t only diverse in sexuality, but in gender as well. Of the six playable characters, three- an entire half- of them are nonbinary. Several human nonbinary characters. And it goes even further- only one of these characters uses they/them pronouns. Why is that good? Because not all nonbinary people do. And that’s something that is severely overlooked by those with binary genders. One of them uses he/him pronouns, and the other uses ze/zir pronouns. You read that right. A main character in a video game, in media at all, that uses neopronouns. Now, I am fully aware that neopronouns have been used in media before; my own set were coined by a book, in fact. But in all of these cases that I’m aware of, they are used exclusively for non-human characters; aliens, bringing an implcation that neopronouns are nonhuman. This case, as far as I’m aware, is the first case that they are used to reflect and represent real human beings, and it is absolutely incredible. The LGBT+ representation in this game is amazing, but there is something very special and signifigant about a black, human, adult character, using neopronouns.

Even better yet is that this is all in the game completely casually, with no fanfare, no dramatic coming-out plotlines, no treatment as if it is anything but normal. Even the one instance of a character accidentally misgender another comes with a quick apology and correction with no big deal. Better yet is that terms like ‘gay’ and ‘nonbinary’ are explicitly used in-text as well, rather than avoiding the use of them as many other instances of LGBT+ characters in media do.

Aside from individual LGBT+ characters, the game also boasts five LGBT+ couples over the course of the story, though one is only sen in flashbacks and another is only mentioned between scenes. Nevertheless, it’s easy to become invested in the slight romantic aspects of the story.

SPOILERS AHEAD

One of these romances is between Ibn Oxley and Bax Twiford, and it’s the first one we see hinted at in the game. During the stoy’s climax, Bax is fatally wounded and I felt a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, even tweeting an out-of-context ‘OH NO’ to confused and concerened followers. MLM couples in media are all-too-often doomed to fail, usually by way of having one half of the couple be killed off. I feared this would be the same case here, to the only MLM couple in the game, and resigned to it with a hevay heart.

Except, the game surprised me again, and saved Bax before he died, allowing for both characters to get their happy ending. In fact, all of the characters get at least somewhat of a happy ending, a refreshing detail for a sap like me. I was espeically pleased when I sat through the credits, praying for an epilogue that would confirm soemthing I was hoping for, being sure I wouldn’t get it, and then i got it. Every writing choice made felt like one of my own, albiet excuted better, with far more professionalism. It felt so utterly refreshing to have everything turn out the way I wanted it to.

Even decisons made outside of representaion satisified me, like Safina not being forgiven by Maritte after everything she’d done, including keeping Maritte’s entire existance from her friends. In many instances these days, it’s all-too-common for a character to do terrible things, only to be forgiven by everyone the moment they apologie, and it can be a bit frustrating if you’re someone who knows that nobody should ever feel obligated to forgive someone who hurt them, and that an apology is more than just saying ‘sorry’. It was yet another case of the story going exactly as I’d wanted it to.

END SPOILER WARNING

Ikenfell feels just like a fanfiction, and I mean that in the best possible way. Not because it’s exceedingly trope-y, or because it feels amature in any way, but because it doesn’t feel like something that was written for pleasing the (cishet and white) masses when it comes to its representation. The large majority of creators looking to publish their work will avoid going all-out with representation in fear of the classic ‘it’s not realistic’ critisism, with only fanfiction authors usually having the guts to make all of their characters LGBT+, because they’re writing for themselves and a small audience of people who enjoy the same things as them. Ikenfell has this same feel; it wasn’t created to be a huge, wildly popular, chart-topping game, it was created to be something that the people it represented could enjoy. It is the purest kind of video game, not one made for profit or attention, but simply because the creators wanted to create it. The fanfiction vibe also makes a lot of sense, considering the fact that was inspired by them- which may explain why I, laregly a fanfiction writer, agree with so much of its choices.

The game may not be everyone’s thing, but if you’re disabled, LGBT+, a POC, of even just someone who ejoys cute fantasy RPGs, I implore you to buy and play the game, because even my words can’t fully capture what an incredible game it is. There’s stuff I haven’t even mentioned, like the beuatiful music, the great visuals, and the many, many cats, so please, go and check it out for yourself.

Thank you for reading, and thank you to every single person who worked on Ikenfell for crafting such a lovely and inclusive game.

#ikenfell #essay #my writing #long post

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