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corpse-husband-simp · 4 years ago

Text

Fic recs masterlist

Masterlist part 2

❤️ =means smut :). 🧡 = social media au. 💛 = headcanon 💙 = blurb/drabble (short Fic). 💜 = oneshot (Long Fic). This means deleted.

Last updated 17/11/20 (Im taking a break) <3

none of these belong to me, full credit goes to the writer

If you know any fics that are not on here please let me know :)

Let me know if any links are broken :)

If you are the owner of any of these fics and dont want it to be on here, Please tell me an they Will be removed from the list :)

I Can only add a hundred links to one post so to Read the fics listed tap “Read here” :)

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@fairysimp. Read here. The prettiest flower 17/10/20. 💙 If you’re a fairy, so am i 18/10/20. 💙 Corpse classic 19/10/20. 💙 You’re on! 20/10/20.💙 Sucks to suck 23/10/20. 💙 What are you afraid of 24/10/20.💙 Cupcakes, sugar and sundresses 24/10/20. 💙 I told the stars about you 24/10/20 💙 Feather light 27/10/20 💙 Soft vibes 27/10/20💙 Danny devito 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ewritesthangs. Read here. Blurb 17/10/20.💙 Q and a time 18/10/20. 💜 Oneshot 22/10/20.💜 Blurb 23/10/20. 💙 Oneshot 25/10/20. 💜 Cake tasting 26/01/20 💙 The Big day 31/10/20 💜 Losing a pet 03/11/20 💙. Extrovert reader 15/11/20 💛~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@marvelandsuchstuff. Read here. Sleepness nights and Golden sunlight 17/10/20💜 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@corpsehusband-simp. Read here. Lazy day 15/10/20. 💙 Opposites attract 16/10/20.💙 Oops 1 20/10/20. 💙 Oops 2 26/10/20💜 Insecure 08/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@laysfics. Read here. Spell 16/10/20. 💜 Spell 2 18/10/20. 💜 Spell 3 19/10/20. 💜 Dinner 20/10/20 💙 Happily ever after 23/10/20💙 Bad days 01/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bastillewolf. Read here. Shinigami eyes 1 13/10/20.💜 Shinigami eyes 2 16/10/20 💜 Panic attack 28/19/20💙 Kinda sketchy 29/10/20💜 #corpsebride 09/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@sttalkr Read here. Your voice 15/10/20.💙❤️ My little pet 19/10/20 💙❤️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@artist-bby. Read here. Deadass 1 12/10/20.💜 Prepare for trouble... Make it double 2 14/10/20.💜 A tired man needs his Well deserved cuddles 25/10/20 💙 Belly rubs 27/10/20💙 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@fandomlit. Read here. Voice impressions 13/10/20. 💙 Destracted 13/10/20. 💙 Mad 13/10/20.💙 Fangirling 13/10/20.💙 Daddy (deleted). 💙 Flustered 25/10/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@skyeet-the-writer. Read here. Id never snitch on daddy 9/10/20. 💜 My mind is restles with the toughts of u 13/10/2 💜. You have my heart 26/10/20 💜 This is a shoutout to my ex 26/10/20 💜 And if you wanna stay, Please stay 07/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ghostgamer. Read here. Comforting you 8/10/20. 💙 Calm nights 11/10/20. 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@iamsuchasimp. Read here. Simp 12/10/20. 💙 Simply simping 15/10/20. 💙🧡 Extra 16/10/20.💙🧡 Making amends 16/10/20.💙 Headcanons 1 17/10/20.💛 Headcanons 2 18/10/20.💛 Miss you 19/10/20.💙 Meant to be? 19/10/20.💙 Alibi 20/10/20.💙 Trending 22/10/20.💙 Ship 25/10/20 💙 Headcanon 27/10/20💛 Popular 29/10/20 💙 Bodyguard 08/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@introverted-mushroom-san. Read here. Just a human (series) 16/10/20 💜 Confession 07/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@harleysarchive. Read here. Among you and me 13/10/20. Among you and me 2 19/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@storiesforallfandoms. Read here. Propostion 19/10/20 Caught feelings 04/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@star-gaz3rs. Read here. Unspoken words and read messages 19/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@locallolli. Read here. Corpse head canon 19/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@corpsedaydream. Read here. #concepts. Neon banter 19/10/20. Sore loser 20/10/20. Cold hands, warm neck 21/10/20. It’s fine 21/10/20. Beach baby 22/10/20. Im okay 25/10/20. Wine night 001 25/10/20. Flappy bird 26/10/20. Yeah baby thats Nice 26/10/20 Monthly 27/10/20 Painted nails 27/10/20 Pet names 26/10/20 A Long week 27/10/20 Crash 01/11/20 Wet hair and warm cuddles 04/11/20 Chaotic s/o 05/11/20 Car 05/11/20 Spooning 05/11/20 Carry on 05/11/20. Corpse does Your makeup 06/11/20. Healing kisses 06/11/20. Fruit salad 06/11/20. Stress and refresh 06/11/20. Pre/post streaming 07/11/20 A fright 10/11/20. Paint wars 11/11/20. See you in the morning 11/11/20 Golden hour 12/11/20 Swing 13/11/20 Carrots 17/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@randomafwritings Read here. It’s 2 am dude... 19/10/20. Missing prank 28/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@corpseglider Read here. Soft!boy hours 20/10/20. Mute Your mic 20/10/20. Attention seeker 21/10/20. Want some company? 22/10/20. You’re sus 23/10/20. Flower fingers 24/10/20. Jealous tendencies 25/10/20. Mirror 26/10/20 You’re beautiful 27/10/20 Flower fingers 2 29/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@moonjelly-princesa Read here. Simp 12/10/20 Next time 20/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bakubabes-hatake Read here. Muted infatuation 20/10/20. Sweater weather 24/10/20 Sleepy sessions 31/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@divinecorpse Read here. Date and snowman’s 20/10/20. Podcasts and announcements 22/10/20. You are in love 25/10/20 It’s never not for you 31/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@foxypuppy Read here. Secret snuggles 20/10/20. Back to you 21/10/20. Sweet Cakes and first dates 25/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@breathygasps Read here. A scarier possibility 1 21/10/20. A scarier possibility 2 23/10/20. Sick day 24/10/20 A scarier possibility 3 29/10/20 A muffin run gone wrong 30/10/20 Odd hours 12/11/20 A scarier possibility 4 14/11/20 French tongue 16/11/20 💙. Dog days 16/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@xoxoyourdad Read here. Blurb* 22/10/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bitch-im-your-biggest-nightmare Read here. It doesnt matter What they say 23/10/20. Stars 1 23/10/20. Stars 2 23/10/20. Welp, i guess the cat is out of the bag 23/10/20. Stars 3 24/10/20. Stars 4 24/10/20. Stars 5 25/10/20. Sick boi hours are over 25/10/20. Disaster 25/10/20. Allergies are not fun 25/10/20. Tears falling down at the party 25/10/20. Stars 6 (finale) 26/10/20 Panic attacks suck man 26/10/20 Goddamit kid now they know Im a single father 27/10/20 Parents fucking suck bro 27/10/20 No! This isnt how you’re supposed to play the game 28/19/20 The blood on our hands is a Bond 31/10/20 Happily ever after 01/11/20 Parenting 101 03/11/20 Parenting 200 05/11/20. Summertime Sadness 07/11/20. Panick attack in gorcery store 07/11/10 Headcanon 10/11/20 Riddle me this 15/11/20 💙 Sorry 15/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@flowersforcorpse Read here. Under the bus 22/10/20. To distraction 24/10/20 The cat Got out 27/10/20 Marination 30/10/20 Limbo 08/11/20 Zoned out 10/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@apricauts Read here. A sleeping corpse 23/10/20. A lovely day 24/10/20. Nsfw headcanons* 24/10/20. Nsfw headcanons 2* 25/10/20. Nsfw headcanons 3* 26/10/20. The lion sleeps tonight 26/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@crystalg6m Read here. Trust 23/10/20. Secret player 04/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@monsterenergysimp Read here. Permanance 24/10/20. Reckless endangerment 25/10/20 Oh my god, they were roommates 27/10/10 Feel better 27/10/20 Forget today 28/10/29 Interruptions 28/10/20 Father of the year 29/10/20 Lock screen 30/10/20 Building Snowmen 31/10/20 This is halloween (father of the year 2) 01/11/20 Closer 02/11/20 Unravel 02/11/20 Snap, crackle, pop 03/11/20 Fluffy concept 04/11/20 Sleepy 05/11/20. Mute 07/11/20. His anxiety 07/11/20 Forgetful 13/11/20 Permanance 2 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@myherotrashbin Read here. Soft smiles and warm hugs 24/10/20. Just let it out 25/10/20. First kiss 25/10/20. Cuddles are needed 25/10/20. Well this happened 26/10/20. Just a little love 04/11/20 I just wanna hold you damn hand 04/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mmonamona Read here. Beautiful 23/10/20. Petty fights and lonely nights 20/10/20 I Think Im in love with you and Im terrified 26/10/20 Halloween 28/10/20 Alls hair in love and war 02/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@uhithinkthefucknot Read here. Respectful simp 25/10/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@letsloveimagines Read here. Crush 25/10/20. Forever 26/10/10 Crush 2 05/11/20 A friend that is a Girl 09/11/20 Murderer 12/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@flowersbby Read here. Drawn to you 25/10/20. Hard day? 26/10/20 Dont overwork yourself 27/10/20 Star struck 31/10/20 Nobody compares 03/11/20 I need you 11/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@kakyoinsimp Read here. Anything for you 26/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@thefanficmonster Read here. Falling faceless 25/10/20. Unlucky 25/10/20. You Call it a mess, we Call it baking 26/10/20 Switch blade 28/10/20 Caring 29/10/20 Lucky me (Unlucky 2) 01/11/20 Power couple 02/11/20 Love for the faceless 02/11/20 Inky memories 05/11/20 Just two sad roommates 08/11/20 Whats it to you 15/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@sloppythots-com Read here. Reaction 24/10/20 Nails and reassurance 24/10/20. Hugs 27/10/20. Sweetie 29/10/20 Innocent 01/11/20 Believe 01/11/20. Eyeliner 06/11/20. One time 06/11/20 Favorite Girl 12/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@flowersandcorpse Read here. Shes optimistic (not me) 1 22/10/20 Shes optimistic (not me) 2 27/10/20. Marinanation 30/10/20 💙 Clasped hands 16/11/20 💙. Marinanation 2 16/11/20💙 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@readerwriterandteadrinker Read here. Pillow talk 27/10/20. The ten hour stream 1 27/10/20 The ten hour stream 2 28/19/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@euphoniumpets Read here. Agoraphobic 27/10/20. Haunted 27/10/20 Cuddle buddy 01/11/20 It’s snack time 03/11/20 Cuddles and thunder 05/11/20. Break my baby 05/11/20. Cooking 06/11/20. Nap time 07/11/20. Oppostite attractions 07/11/20 Baby bump 13/11/20 Flirty interactions 15/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@literatureteachervibes Read here. Opportunity 1 24/10/20. Opportunity 2 28/19/20. Opportunity 3 30/10/20 Where corpse saves her from a creep 03/11/20 Opportunity 4 31/10/20. Opportunity 5 11/11/20 Simp 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@struggling-with-time Read here. Dinner for two (at Home) 28/10/20. Translucent 28/10/20. Cuddle time 28/10/20 Outfit for the day 28/10/20 Movie night (horror movie) 28/10/20 Can i have my sweater back? 28/10/20 Size difference and snuggles 28/10/20 Dont turn green on me now 28/10/20 Sykkunos biggest simp 28/10/20 Rainy days 29/10/20 Dog parks are a good place 29/10/20 Penpals from across the sea 29/10/20 Cloudy afternoons 30/10/20 Stressful streaming 30/10/20 Comfort 30/10/20 YouTube video (ASMR) 31/10/20 Blind date 31/10/20 Halloween party 31/10/20 YouTube singer!reader 01/11/20. Cuddles 01/11/20 Funny S/O 01/11/20 Ocular migraines 01/11/20 Kitten calling 02/11/20 Our cat child, our precious son 02/11/20 Gifted collar 02/11/20 Suprise song 03/11/20 Fun fact 03/11/20. Comedian 03/11/20. Cat Girl 03/11/20 Ruben moves in 03/11/20 Painter 04/11/20. Lost connection 04/11/20 Lost connection 2 06/11/20. Cousin of a cousins wedding 07/11/20. Pokis friend 08/11/20. Pokis friend 2 08/11/20. Bedside confessions 08/11/20. Uncertainties 08/11/20. Working together 08/11/20 Among us promises 08/11/20 Spilled tea 09/11/20 Stuffed animals 10/11/20. Dungeons and dragons 10/11/20 Corpses brother 12/11/20. Off cam kisses 12/11/20. Being corpses sister hc 12/11/20

Mothers arent always the best 12/11/20 Soft voices 13/11/20. Shy reader 13/11/20. Without you Im just a sad song 14/11/20. Actress/actor reader 14/11/20. Faceless YouTuber reader 14/11/20. Reader owning an etsy. 14/11 Simping for 2 16/11/20. 💙 One last time 16/11/20n.💙 Nightmare 16/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@corpserose Read here. Mornings 28/10/20. Paint my nails 31/10/20 Snack time 02/11/20 Home 04/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@shelswrites Read here. The Sound of a voice 28/10/10. 💙 Blurb 28/10/20.💙 Livestreams 28/10/20💙 Q and a 29/10/20 💙 Famous!singer reader 29/10/20 💙 Fight 29/10/20 💙 Tall!reader 30/10/20💙 Hand 30/10/20 💙 Nicknames 30/10/20💙 Roommate 30/10/20 💙 Nicknames 30/10/20 💙 First night at corpses House 31/10/20 💙 Painting nails 31/10/20 💙 The feel of a touch 31/10/20💙 Playing with his hair 01/11/20 💙 Period 01/11/20 💙 24 hour livestream 01/11/20💙 Corpse in maid dress 01/11/20 💙 Knitted blanket 02/11/20💙 Dyeing eachothers hair 02/11/20 💙 Taking Care of his hair 02/11/20 💙 Playing with his hands 03/11/20 💙 Sharing clothes 03/11/20💙 Bisexual 03/11/20 💙 Imposter duo 03/11/20💙 Cat ears for corpsie 04/11/20💙 Holding grugdes 04/11/20 💙 Laying on Your lab 05/11/20💙 Studying 05/11/20💙 Helping him with his anxiety 05/11/20💙

Laying on Your chest 05/11/20 💙 Eyeliner 06/11/20 💙 Plus size s/o 06/11/20💙 Your hands 07/11/20💙 Putting eyeliner on him 07/11/20💙. Corpse failing at cooking 08/11/20.💙 Eyeliner and skirt 08/11/20. 💙 Cooking 09/11/20 💙 Like real people do 09/11/20.💙 Sleepy corpse 09/11/20. 💙 Comforting him 10/11/10.💙 Blushy corpsie 10/11/20💙 Holiday 13/11/20. 💙 Tired corpse laying in Your lap 13/11/20. 💙 Corpse having a bad day 14/11/20 💙. Bf not gf 16/11/20.💙 Long distance 16/11/20. 💙 Making a yt Channel together 16/11/20.💙 Playing and answering questions 16/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@rxvenclawwriting Read here. The aftermath of scary videos 28/10/20. Internet trolls 29/10/20 Sketched conffesions 02/11/20 Tiktok famous 03/11/20 Just a slip of the tongue 04/11/20 The Challenge of Touch 05/11/20 Q and a 14/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@imjustpeachyme Read here. Bumpy roads and broken promises 28/10/20. The mirror always lies 01/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ruby-lavorre Read here. Ramen 29/10/20. Dating corpse HC 30/10/20 Dating corpse HC 2 31/10/20 Holding out 01/11/20 Best friends hc 05/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@rock-c Read here. Kandi 30/10/20. Shortstack 30/10/20 The bassist 30/10/20 Movie marathons 01/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@b-star-wonder Read here Headcanon 30/10/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@moonlightsimp Read here. Cuddles headcanon 01/11/20.💛 Choose me 03/11/20 Simp 05/11/20 Needy 06/11/20 Shower feels 10/11/20 Social media au 13/11/20🧡 Social media au 13/11/20 🧡 Moving in 14/11/29 Pretty baby 16/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@anata-e-no-izon Read here. A Big whoopsie 25/10/20. Rivalry 30/10/20. Ignorant opinions 09/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@antisocial-dumb-ass Read here. Sleepy time phone Call 02/11/20. 💙 The impostor among us 02/11/20. 💙 Cuddle time 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bibliofilia Read here Ships passing in the night 03/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@reaperxrex Read here. sunkissed 29/10/20. First fights 29/10/20. Sports star 03/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@withcolebrock Read here Full of suprises 05/11/20. Close Your eyes 06/11/20 Distracted 12/11/20 Amazingly beautiful 15/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@souljoon Read here. Sweet 05/11/20. Infatuated 05/11/20 Whats up baby 07/11/20 Roommates 09/11/20 Roommates in among us 10/11/20 Mutual pining roommates 12/11/20 Comfort 15/11/20 💙. Not making fun of you 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@impala-1979 Read here. Dead 05/11/20. Their life had barely begun 08/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@abluecorpserose Read here. Pretty boy 25/10/20. S/o with Anime voice 06/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@the-writings-of-a-simp Read here. Roommate 04/11/20. Corpse in a skirt 05/11/20. Rainy cuddles 06/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@marvelfreakbrynnlee Read here. The elf in the café 07/11/20. The elf in the café 2 10/11/20 The elf in the café 3 15/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@syukkunii Read here. Cuddles hc 09/11/20. Corpse flirting during livestream 11/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@pepinotpepe Read here. Wildflower 08/11/20. Wildflower 2 08/11/20. Wildflower 3 09/11/20. Wildflower 4 11/11/20 Wildflower 5 12/11/20 💙 Wildflower 6 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@auramindedd Read here. Oneshot 08/11/20. 💜 AccidenTell 10/11/20💙 First meet 11/11/10 💜 Under the weather 13/11/20💙 Period pain cuddles 13/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@takenbyheartstrings Read here. Burden 10/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@the-winter-sxldier-posts Read here. Moments 12/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@glxwingbakugo Read here Takeout and horror movies 12/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@softboiicorpse Read here. Always forever 12/11/20. 💜 Grocery shopping 13/11/20 💜 Final goodbyes 13/11/20 💜. Grocery shopping 2 15/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@nekomacam Read here. Not even okay 13/11/20 🧡 Not even okay 2 14/11/20 🧡 Not even okay 3 17/11/20 🧡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@thotasshoebitch Read here. I know you did not just grab my Boob 15/11/20💙 Rain on me 16/11/20💙. My hair 16/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse x reader #among us #corpse #corpse husband fic recs #masterlist

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corpsedaydream · 4 years ago

Text

paint wars

aaaaaaaand here it is! my first corpse!angst fic!

this was a lot of fun to write, i’ve been posting so much fluff, and as much fun as i’ve had fluffing it up, it felt good to get back to what i love. i normally only do angst!

a little disclaimer: i do not know corpse, this writing is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only!

happy reading!

word cout: 2080

_______________________________

paint wars

Third wheeling had never really bothered you before. Partly because you were the type of person who could make your own fun. But also because you were so close with your friends that you normally did become friends with the people they were dating, too. So hanging out with a couple never really felt like third feeling for you.

Except today, you were feeling a little ruffled about it.

It was meant to be such a good day. Currently, you were out with your best friend and the person she was seeing - someone in which you’d started to become friends with - and the three of you were painting at the park. An afternoon of painting and sharing a bottle of wine was an activity in which you did with your friends every now and again and if someone happened to be seeing someone, they were welcome to bring them along. You’d always thought that the person you were dating would experience it too, except he wasn’t.

Corpse was at his place.

You’d attempted to involve him earlier.

“Please come, it’ll be fun, I promise.” Your voice was still upbeat then as you spoke to Corpse on the phone, trying to persuade him into joining you.

“I won’t have fun.” He was holding his ground firmly.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t.” Yet again, you were still trying to joke around, hoping it would make him feel better. It didn’t.

“It’s more than just an attitude, (Y/N).” He responded so glumly.

You sighed in response and looked at your phone screen, it showed you’d been on the phone for 23 minutes, pretty much all of which was you trying to get your boyfriend to come have some fun with you. You knew it was hard for him, you’d been so understanding, but you couldn’t deny you’d gotten your hopes up that today would have been an easy enough outing for him to participate. You were tempted to press the red hang up button because he was bringing your mood down and today was meant to be a good day. But his voice came through the speaker on the phone call again before you could.

“How about, you go have fun and you can come round here after and show me your painting.”

“No.” You knew he was trying to make you feel better this time, but that wasn’t a compromise you wanted to take part in.

“Why not?”

“What if I want to keep hanging out with my friends after we’re done?”

“Then hang out, I don’t mind.”

“That’s the issue, you should mind, you should want to spend time with me.”

“I do want to spend time with you.”

“Then do it!” You got a little louder that time, frustration filling you.

He sighed that time. No one was winning this conversation that was quickly turning into an argument. So you decided to try again.

“My friends are good people, Corpse, I’ve known them forever, you’d really like them and they’d liked you. They wouldn’t say or do anything that-”

“I fucking know, okay?!” He cut you off, and it seemed it was his turn to raise his voice. “Fuck, (Y/N), I know. You talk about them all the fucking time. I get it, you’ve got these fucking amazing people in your life and I just can’t fucking compete.”

“What the fuck?” You couldn’t help but to respond, you knew his anxiety was getting the better of him but he snapped at you and now you were snapping back. “You’re seriously angry at me for having good friends?”

“No!” He yelled then and even through a phone call it caught you by surprise.

“Then why are you yelling at me right now?!” You questioned him, ironically also beginning to yell.

“Because- fuck. I don’t fucking know,” He sounded a lot closer to his phone then, as if he’d picked it up and had it closer to his face. “I’m going, I’ll see you later, or not, do whatever you want.”

And before you could say anything, he hung up.

You sat there looking at your lock screen, a photo of you and Corpse. The first photo you’d ever taken together, you were both so happy that day. You were all glammed up in the photo, you were going out and Corpse couldn’t stop telling you how pretty you looked.

“Baby, stop,” But you were giggling, so Corpse continued dotting rapid fire kisses all over your face. “you’re gonna mess up my make up.” You told him, but you were smiling so wide as your hands were pressed against his chest, pushing him up, but you were also having too much fun with him so you didn’t really try so hard.

“I can’t,” Corpse replied, his arms were locked around your waist, and the kisses stopped for a moment so he could bring his face in front of yours to look at you once more. “Oh, my baby, you do look so beautiful.”

He took your breath away with his words, your heart felt like it was doubling in size with how much he had made its way into it. And this time, you kissed him, but on his mouth and he kissed you back, hard. Your hands slid up from his chest and to either side of his neck and his gripped your sides. How you loved to feel so wrapped up in him.

“I don’t want to leave.” You whispered when you broke apart, your faces still close enough that your nose brushed against his.

“Then stay.” His deep voice could almost convince you, but you hadn’t seen your friends in a little while, you’d been inside the loved up bubble with your boyfriend. Your friends knew that, so they let you be, at least for a while and when they missed you too much, they demanded that this time you had to come out. You’d made a commitment to go out with them, and you wanted to see them. Corpse was invited, too. After all, your friends wanted to meet the man who had been taking up so much of your time, but he wasn’t up for it yet.

“I can’t.” You’d sigh.

“I know.”

“You could come...” You tried to invite him one last time.

“Baby.” Was all he said, dropping his head to rest it on your shoulder. He knew he had disappointed you when he turned down the offer the first time and he didn’t want to disappoint you, ever.

“I know, but, my friends really want to meet you.”

“And they will,” He looked back at you then, “just not yet.”

“Another time, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

But he still hadn’t followed through on that promise. You didn’t mind then, things were still kind of new between the two of you and you remember thinking that he’d keep his word. Your friends were so important to you, and he knew that, so you’d really thought that if you waited it out it would happen.

But it hadn’t, and you were running out of patience.

Looking around the park, it really felt like the universe was just wanting to hit you down more, because it seemed that every person you looked at, really seemed to be in a couple.

At one point, you were watching a dog who just fetched a ball. Thinking you’d found the only other soul here who wasn’t rubbing a relationship in your face. But then from behind a tree, another dog appeared and they started licking each others faces.

“Oh my fucking god.” You exclaimed and swapped your vision back to the painting you had completed. You were done with today. And you let your thoughts be heard then.

“You alright?” Your friend had heard you.

“Uh, I guess. I don’t know.” You answered honestly. And you didn’t know. Could you keep being in a relationship with someone when your differences were causing this divide?

“What if I just come over to his place with you?” Your best friend suggested. She knew exactly what was stirring at you, she’d listened to you vent about it many of times.

“Like, without him knowing?”

“Yeah.” It was a very her thing to suggest. You’d grown up with her and she always was a person who turned up unannounced, it was a rarity to find someone like that but she was that person. But she was also such a calming presence that no one ever minded and instead, welcomed it. You contemplated her idea, it was just the two of you now, the person she was dating had left a little earlier.

“It could go very bad.”

“It could go very good.”

And so there you were, walking up to Corpses front door. With your best friend waiting in the car. You were at least going to give him even a tiny bit of warning of what was going to happen.

The front door swung open, “Hey,” he greeted you, he was expecting you after you texted him to see if it was okay if you’d still come over.

“Hi.” You were nervous.

“Get in here.” He waved you in and so you stepped inside and he met you in a hug. “You okay?” He questioned you, he noted something about you seeming a little off.

“Yeah, just a little tired.” It was the oldest lie in the book, and you and Corpse both knew that but he was going to let it go.

“Where’s the painting?” A change of subject now that you’d both taken a few steps inside his place.

“Oh, I left it in the car,” You started, turning to face him.

“Okay.... did you want to get it, or?” He wondered why things felt so off balance. Yes, your last phone call didn’t end very pleasantly but he knew you, if you wanted to talk to him about that, you would.

“Well, I could get (Y/F/N) to bring it in.”

“What?” Instantly his mood changed. His face hardened, his posture stiffened.

“She’s in the car, she-”

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Already his voice was raising.

“She just wants to meet you!”

“You didn’t think to ask me about this?”

“She’s my best friend, Corpse, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

He turned away from you and picked up a glass from his bench top, smashing it into the floor. You jumped and took a step back. For a moment, everything was so silent but the tension couldn’t have been louder.

With tears bubbling in your eyes, you decided on trying to cut through the thick silence. “Corpse-”

“No.” He instantly cut you off, turning to face you. Both of you had shaky hands. You should have been comforting each other, making an effort to calm one another, but instead, you took it out on one another, peaking each others anxiety and frustrations level even more. “You really fucked-

“No!” You cut him off this time, blinking back your tears and stepping towards him. “You don’t get to treat me like this right now, you’re overreact-”

“Don’t fucking finish that word. You’re the one who brought someone here without me knowing!”

“She’s not just someone, she’s my best friend!”

“Your best friend. Not mine, (Y/N).” He stepped towards you then. “Did you really not think about how fucking stupid this was?” His words stung like venom. “I don’t even want her knowing what I look like, let alone where I fucking live!”

“She- she wouldn’t...” Your voice trailed off. He was right in your face, he was yelling. But could you blame him right now? You were feeling guilty for causing this, you were feeling so distraught that things had gone this badly.

“Just get out.” He told you plainly, moving back away from you and turning so his back was towards you.

“What?” You stared hopelessly at the back of his head of curls.

“Fuck off.”

“We can talk about this.”

“No. I don’t want you here.” His words were crushing your heart, you could barely take a full breath in. You had anticipated a bad reaction, but you hadn’t hoped it would go this bad.

“If you kick me out like this, I’m never coming back.” You threatened, despite how much it pained you to say those words.

Corpse looked back at you then over his shoulder, you both had challenging expressions on your face. You were fighting fire with fire, things were burning down, fast.

“Good.”

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fanfiction #writing #mine

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starshavegoneastray · 3 years ago

Text

Perfect Lovers

Angst // h.hj

Inspired by Félix González-Torres 'Untitled (Perfect Lovers)' 1991; an installation art.

CW // loss of a loved one

1,923 Words

IT has been a while since Hyunjin came out of his apartment. The door to his unit creaked louder than he anticipated, but couldn’t blame the lack of new oil it required in order to work. Green carpet under his soles felt a little different from the last time he mindlessly trudged and tumbled into his cold unit. Newly painted hall greeted him, and before he knew it, he was waving politely at the landlord as he stepped outside of the building.

His blonde hair, caught by the wind as cars passed by, had gone longer than the last time he locked himself, reaching just above his shoulders in a half up half down. For sure it hadn’t been long, but the new stores that opened up right next to the bakery he visited often made it seem like he’d missed at least three months.

That was enough time for Hyunjin to get cooped up inside his tiny living space, free from any pain he had to endure. It was just the right number of weeks for him to be by himself, to look for some sort of interest in order to get his mind off the unpleasant thoughts hunting him for the past weeks.

Painting was one of the things he did, recalling the amount of oil paints and canvases littering across his apartment floors. He’d given up on sketching because the only image running around his head was you. The outcome made him light a match and let it eat the paper into ashes. A similar occurrence happened the last time he painted, but instead of setting the building on fire he decided to dump a whole bucket of lightning blue over it, then left it as it is in his work room.

Part of him wanted to rekindle that passion again, to get his brush going across the canvas and start over. But he lost the spark to ignite his flames, and morning came to replace the light he lost. Leaving him to scout for some sort of exit during the darkening night. He’d doused himself in bottles and bottles of booze the other night, and woke up the next morning with a booked ticket to an exhibit downtown on his laptop.

Hyunjin took his time wandering amongst the crowd, feeling the warmth of the room as people gathered around a few installations placed along the way, and paintings hung up on walls. Some visitors came in batches of elementary students in their orange uniforms, there were groups of (possibly) art students admiring another philosophical work, then there were the interested couples. He came alone in his cream knit vest, black cross bag and a pamphlet in his hands.

There was a mini map of the exhibition inside the neatly folded paper between his fingers, and he began at the very first spot his eyes landed on which were the paintings. Hyunjin stared at a few fancy frames, before moving along to the next in hopes of catching a glimpse of interest within the colors, the shapes, perspectives, anything.

He looked at his pamphlet again then proceeded to the next part of the exhibit. Sculptures in many shapes and sizes stood on white pedestals, behind glass boxes, and even stood on their own to showcase its amazing heights. More people took pictures here, seeing this is a perfect spot for such activity. Hyunjin, after looking around at the people pulling their phones and posing for the camera, fished for his own from the pocket of his jeans and snapped a clay statue that he thought looked like a memorable piece. A smile crept up his full lips, chuckling as he slid his fingers across the screen at the picture he took.

Y/n would love this.

Hyunjin’s lips faltered slowly. Just when he thought he could put down the weights from his shoulder, he couldn’t. Not now. Not even after three whole months. Every time he gets a little happy, he thinks of you. And you were the reality he’s not ready for. With a push of a button, his screen turned void and he shoved his gadget back from where he took them before walking to the next part of the exhibit.

Nothing caught his eye. Not the paintings, not the statues, not the impressive wall art on one side of the building. For starters, he never really frequently visited an exhibit. He started going to some back in the day because of someone’s influence. Someone who would go out of their way to get two entry tickets and accompany him despite their responsibilities and schedule. The same person who would be the first to point out an artist’s work and the meanings behind the intricate strokes, dents, parts, and smudges. The very individual who taught him how to paint.

He kept glancing back and forth towards the pamphlet once he realized he’s stepping into the installations exhibit; the field of art he’s having trouble understanding. Nothing ever makes sense in his eyes, as his steps progress deeper into more stacks of cups, papers, possibly metals displayed on the floor. His eyes jumped from one installation to the other, and all he could process were the odd-looking mismatched objects glued to one another. But he knew for a fact it was because he did something wrong, not because the language doesn’t click.

Take your time, the three words lingered like an aftertaste of a bitter coffee in the shape of your voice. That was what he did as soon as his eyes landed on two clocks hung up on a wall side by side. Félix González-Torres was written on a card right next to the installation, under the title that named the art:

‘Untitled (Perfect Lovers)'.

Take your time, and it’ll all make sense.

Two of the same clocks ticking by the same exact time like what they are and what they’re intended to do; to tell the time. Their needles ticked by the number ten, then ran past eleven. Hyunjin chuckled after the hour hands slightly moved closer to the number seven simultaneously as the seconds morphed with the minute hand on twelve. Upon closer inspection, it was his first time seeing an hour hand move. Nothing fascinating, but now that he thought about it, he’s a quick-paced guy; he never stopped for once to take in the smallest things around him.

Different from how you were. He could almost see it, you would probably stop on your tracks as well, and stared at the two clocks which bore a deep meaning that only few could understand. Installation is a language that took some time to perceive, it’s a different concept of relaying opinions, messages, or a story. The language of art isn’t just from how visually pleasing it is, but also how the message behind it resonates with the people who interact with it. It’s not what you see in it, but it’s how you feel when you see it. Because it captures emotions and memories that exist without a visual form.

Hyunjin never got that idea through his head, especially when he encountered the particular abstract movements. But perhaps his perspective changed once he noticed the right clock began ticking a little slower than the left, gradually falling behind and out of sync; as many clocks do.

Eventually one of them would stop working as the exhibit went on.

For many reasons, you were the very first person he thought of. Fights were a repetitive occurrence but it never tore you apart from each other. And even when disagreements filled the gap, somehow you both found a way to come to terms with it. Your dynamics brought the best out of him, even he was surprised himself. And the both of you had the craziest idea of holding onto each other, until time did their worst and pulled you apart from his grasp on one spring.

Despite the green hues covering his steps, the grey morning he returned from your funeral was one of the hardest things he had to do. Walking back out was another hell he didn’t want to live in, so he locked himself in where he could succumb into an indefinite amount of sorrow and grief at the loss of the love of his life.

Perhaps the harsh reality pushed him at his worst, locking you up in his attic, only to have you drip down the ceiling and he could only see you, you, and you. Even in his dreams, all he saw was you.

The only argument he couldn’t come to terms with was the fact that you’re not here to hold onto him anymore.

But the title still remains ‘Perfect Lovers’. Even when the two hands fall from each other, going their separate ways, or stop dead on their tracks, they were the best for one another. His heartbreak was the evidence of your unconditional love. A mark that will forever be remembered as your beautiful life that collided with his at the imperfectly perfect timing. Despite the circumstances, despite the abrupt end to your chapter with him, you remain as his perfect lover.

It was a small flower shop that opened right next to the bakery Hyunjin stopped by. Warm scent of croissant filled up the air as he leaned back onto the white chair, scrolling back through his phone as another warm loaf met his full lips.

“Did you visit the exhibition?” A voice made him crane his neck to see the owner of the little bakery in his white apron pulling a chair to sit next to Hyunjin. He nodded as a reply, munching slowly at the warm bread while letting his friend see the pictures he took.

“You know, Minho,” Hyunjin began to speak, putting down the goods on the plate as he did so, “I thought my time would stop the second hers did.”

Minho listened intently, not too sure where he’s going with the conversation. “But I guess, even soulmates aren’t synchronized.”

Hyunjin looked around the afternoon sunlit streets. Orange hues kissing the autumn leaves that fall from their respective trees adorning the chalkboard sign he drew an hour ago for the bakery. Minho exhaled, taking Hyunjin’s phone gently and swiping a few pictures until he stopped at one with two store bought clocks that was supposed to be deemed an art.

“Is that another philosophy you learned for today?” The question made the blonde boy lean back on his chair, crossing both arms on his chest and said, like it’s a matter of fact, “It’s a new language I learned.”

A tiny small pulled the sides of Minho’s cheeks at his friend’s little banter, it has been a while since he’d last heard of Hyunjin’s sassy remarks. Pinching and zooming the photo, Minho asks again, “And what do you think about it?”

“I think…”

He thought of your eyes, the crinkly ones every time a smile adorn your face at the paintings he finished, or the paints he threw your way, coloring a few strains of your hair. And the way you cried in front of an art you resonated with the most, as if the world you see was filled with the same frequency of affection, despair, desire, sadness, or happiness that none could muster or perceive. Your heartfelt emotions that never fail to make him fall harder every day. And he knew definitely how you’d feel if you’d come along.

“…Y/n would have loved it as much as I do.”

#imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin

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random-mha-thoughts · 5 years ago

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Daisies (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Todoroki’s ice quirk somehow gets swapped for a more soft and dainty one, garnering the attention of the 1-A girls.

Word count: 1,421

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: I was inspired by this fanart by @cheetaglow-ab. It was just so cute and floofy and lovable and adoring, what can I say? And I finished all my schoolwork for the week and was able to take a nap, so I was in a good mood to get back to writing!

I got a request on my Wattpad, so the next post this weekend will be angst to fluff. Please look forward to it~ Enjoy this little fluff piece!

Everyone in Class 1-A sits in the common room for breakfast, ready to get ready for another day at school, except for a few boys. Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida, and Kirishima come down later since they were out for an early morning training session.

"Hey Todoroki, the ice is out on the fridge, can you make me some for my juice?" Kaminari asks.

The handsome boy had just put his breakfast tray at our table with his friends. "Sure."

The honey blond bounds up to the boy, holding out his glass expectantly. Todoroki closes his right fist to materialize ice in his palms.

I don't miss the slight furrow of his brows a few seconds before he opens his hand, revealing not ice, but the heads of perfect white daisies. The two boys and I blink at the strange occurrence. He tries again, putting a little more power into his quirk, but ends up making a flurry poof-explosion of daisies coat his right side.

I can't take my eyes off him as time slows. The perfect white flowers pepper up his bare arm and uniform short-sleeve, some of them softly flutters down to the ground. But what really captivates me is the way one of them nestles itself in his white bangs near his grey eye. The purity of his shock and the white flower petals frames his face in the most innocent way that makes me catch my breath. Somehow, the pretty flower boy of our class looks magically more pretty in this moment.

Midoriya follows my gaze, turning around in his chair in confusion. His green eyes light up at the sight. "Oh wow, daisies!"

Everyone in the room simultaneously turns towards Todoroki, who's staring at his outstretched palm in astonishment.

"Oh my gosh, Todoroki-san!"

"They're so pretty!"

"How did you do that?"

The girls are having a field day, surrounding him in awe of this quirk he's somehow developed and gushing. The boy, not used to holding this much attention, blushes and brushes the daisies off his arm. "I'm not sure what's going on with my quirk today, I just had training and it was working."

"I think this one's way cuter!" Hagakure squeals, her shirt sleeves folding inward in excitement.

"I kind of wish you would keep it." Uraraka's eyes shine, picking off a daisy from his shoulder and admiring it. Tsuyu nods from next to her, sharing the same sentiment.

I kind of agree, I think, dazed from the scene still in my mind. My eyes stay glued to the flower still perched in his fringe. I hope it stays there for the rest of the day. Please no one take it out.

"Why is Todoroki so lucky?" Kaminari silently weeps with Sero and Mineta in the corner. "He always gets all the attention, it's not fair."

Even once we're in the classroom, Uraraka, Tsu, and Mina wouldn't leave his side, crowding around his desk. The brunette asked Todoroki to materialize a bunch more flowers in his hand and started meticulously placing them in a halo around his hair, making a disconnected flower crown for the quiet boy. He's not even bothered by them doing it, letting them carry on their business.

Ah, he really looks like the gentle prince he is. I can't stop admiring him from the distance. These girls really know what they're doing, it's illegal to make him more attractive like that. My stomach flips when he glances up, meeting my eyes for a moment and I quickly look away, facing forward.

"Can you extras sit down already?! It's not that big of a deal!" Bakugou growls out, leaning his legs on the desk as usual.

"Bakugou, please get your feet off the desk!" Iida immediately rushes over to reprimand the boy. "This is an academic institution! Your respect is needed-!"

"Shut up, engine legs!"

"What's going on here?" Aizawa finally arrives, standing upright without a fluorescent yellow beanbag wrapping his body. His dark-ringed eyes glance at the scene in the back of the classroom. "Todoroki? What's the meaning of this?"

"Apologies, Aizawa sensei, something went wrong with my quirk this morning. My ice seems to have been replaced by daisies." His holds out his hands full of petals and white flower heads. Uraraka takes another one out of his hand and breaks off the petals. Admittedly, the boy softens at the girls smiling and having fun with this new quirk development. The corners of his lips quirk upwards when Tsuyu sprinkles a few of them across his nose and cheeks. Uraraka and Mina squeal at the small touch, taking photos with their phones.

Our fatigued teacher deadpans. The poor guy got up too early and doesn't get paid enough to deal with the strange occurrences that happen to this class every week anymore. He can't do anything but sigh. "I'll see if there's anything I can do to fix it before training this afternoon. Take your seats, we'll start class."

Midoriya gets Uraraka's text message photo of Todoroki adorned with glorious flowers. I lean over his shoulder, admiring the way the colorless petals frame his face and contract his bright eyes and hair, his long eyelashes almost brushing the petals. "Psst, Midoriya? ...Can you send that picture to me?"

The boys seem to be fed up over the whole thing by lunch, and the girls were having fun sharing photos and tittering among themselves. I can't say I'm not secretly enjoying the photo Midoriya sent me earlier. Even as I wander the halls, returning from refilling my water bottle, I smile at my phone screen. I didn't think it was possible for him to get more handsome. I've never been so happy to be wrong.

"(Y/n)?"

I let out a small yelp, almost dropping my phone out of my hand as I hurriedly lock it. "T-Todoroki?"

The boy had brushed off the petals from his face and clothes, but kept the halo crown around his head. I try not to stare too dazedly at his beauty, but he smiles, "The girls did well, didn't they?"

Heat rushes to my face. "They did. I-It looks good on you. I'm surprised you didn't mind them doing it."

His fingers brush the edge of a few petals fondly, joy dancing in his eyes. "It made them happy, and I think it suits me."

My chest throbs once in awe. "It's a shame it's only temporary though."

"Ah, I guess so. But I think we made the best of it for now. It's a lovely memory for the class to remember. They said it looks princely."

"Yeah..." I breathe without thinking.

A blush spreads across Todoroki's cheeks. "Well, if I'm the flower prince, would you like to be my betrothed?"

My stomach turns as his hand behind his back reveals another crown of daisies woven together by their stems. Oh.

"I know it's a temporary quirk, but I wanted to master as much of it as I could." He fidgets, plucking a few stray petals off. "I managed to grow them with stems, and thought it would be a thoughtful gift...for someone as adoring as you." He materializes a full flower in his right hand, stem and head, before weaving it into a spot on the crown before outstretching it towards me and holding my gaze with his awed mismatched orbs. "Will you accept it as a token of my feelings?"

Warmth washes over me as my shaky fingers clasp together. This whole ordeal feels like a dream, especially with his own flowery crown making the whole thing seem like a surreal, one in a million movie scene. "Y-Yes." I don't trust my voice to say anything else.

Todoroki smiles wider in relief and gingerly places the crown on my head. "I guess this strange quirk has its perks. It's best for confessions." His eyes scan over me. "You look divine, just as I thought. It suits you. Allow me to take a picture of us."

He takes out his phone and leans closer to me, framing both of us in the shot. I resist the urge to squeal and cry. We look so cute as a couple, our matching halos the focal point of the entire thing. At the last second, he sneaks a kiss on my cheek, sending more flush to both of our cheeks. The painted rose on our faces makes the photo capture more of the essence of innocence. It's the perfect photo for a budding relationship of high school love.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #gender neutral reader #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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skrltwtch · 4 years ago

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Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

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soundofseventeen · 4 years ago

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Snapshoot (OT13)

Hi, in case y’all didn’t know, I have declared war on Erin and Haley and this was one outcome lmao! It’s also one of my favorite songs and I’m really happy with these! Credits to the owners for the gifs!!! I couldn’t find names!!!!!

Seungcheol: (Ahh, that’s how it’s done...3,2,1 shoot) the way you had fallen on your butt when you two had decided to take an evening stroll after dinner one night. You circled the nearby park a couple of times when you noticed your shoe had become untied. You let go of Cheol’s hand and knelt down to tie it up. You’d been so focused on looping the laces, you didn’t notice the furry little creature trotting up to you until it barked to get your attention. You let out a small yelp and fell back from the scare, only to squeal in delight when the pup sniffed your face and licked your cheek. She ended up sitting next to you while you petted and cooed her. Seungcheol took out his phone and snapped a photo of you nuzzling noses, the biggest smile on both your faces, until the rightful owner came calling for the pup a moment later and she vanished, breaking your heart. Cheol did help you up eventually, shaking his head at your expression. He posted all over social media, gushing over your cuteness.

Jeonghan: (snap shoot, you) the way a bucket of paint managed to fall, spilling the orange color all over you. After agreeing to help one of your friends paint their new house while they went furniture shopping, you invited Jeonghan to help you. Okay, he wasn’t really helping, but he did occasionally dip his brush in the paint and got it on the wall, and he liked changing every song that came on because it didn’t fit the mood, but you couldn’t complain much. At one point, Jeonghan did get up on the ladder to paint the parts you missed (because his eyesight was better than yours), and when he had forgotten he had the can of paint on the top step, he buckled his knees and one of them hit the can and it spilled on the ladder and on you while you were removing the tape. He captured the perfect moment with you rubbing the paint off your clothes and hair, the laughter being heard throughout the house. And before he could do anything else, you splashed a different color of paint on him and going to hug them so the colors could blend together as well as you did.

Joshua: (the way to set the focus on you is a tutorial of love) the way you held his guitar in your hands. In the entire time you’ve known Joshua, his most prized possession had never been far behind. In the midst of his collection of rice cookers, Winnie the Pooh plushes and never ending love letters, his guitar had been his first and only love. He loved dedicating a few minutes of his day playing Encantadora, the name he had given her because he was so enchanted by her. And whenever you hung out together, he’d always ask if it was okay if he could fill the silence with her music. And it’s not like you could say no. Sometimes he sang along with her and sometimes she sang alone, but both were always beautiful. The last time he was at your place, Joshua had been called back to work for some last minute changes and Encantadora had stayed with you since then. You were always afraid of carrying his guitar, because of the things that could go wrong and you couldn’t handle him hating you if something did happen. So naturally, it stayed on your couch where you hardly moved her. But Joshua was picking Encantadora up today, so after Google searching what was safe, you cleaned her up, making sure to rid any specs of dust. Curiosity eventually got the best of you and picked her up and fixed her on your lap, strumming the chords lightly and cringing because she didn’t sound anything like when Joshua played her. Joshua had quietly let himself in during this time, just in case you were asleep, and he saw you tenderly caressing the strings, you frowning when it didn’t like the way you expected it to. He smiled, exiting the app he currently had and opened the camera. He clicked the button a couple of times before announcing his presence and taking a spot next you, showing you how the basics.

Junhui: (capture this moment right now) the way you stopped to smell the roses, literally. One of Junhui’s favorite times of year was the rose festival. Businesses all around the Seoul area closed and gathered at the park to support the small businesses. Jun often woke up early to get a good seat for the parade that kicked off the momentous occasion; the only difference was that this was the first time that you’d be joining him. Other than being mostly sleepy and resting your head on his shoulder it was fun. The people on the floats engaged with the crowd, throwing candies and small toys and even fliers to vote. Junhui constantly disappeared and then reappeared with food, only sharing sometimes. And with the parade ending, he brought you to your feet, making you follow it (yes, walking) until you ended up at the park which had been up with various booths, the dj barely setting up his stage, and the bounce houses getting ready to go. You didn’t know how Junhui managed to fit so much food in his stomach throughout the day, and how many items he buried in his pockets and once he started getting recognized by the fans, he had to hide in one of the public bathrooms until you got him a hat and sunglasses. And once the early evening followed the humid afternoon, he pulled you onto one of the benches to let you catch your breath and once you were on your feet again waiting for your ride, you recounted the day’s events, you swearing you were gonna be full for the rest of the year when you noticed the rose bush. You stopped in the middle of the story, making a beeline for the bush and petted the flowers, adoring the color and everything and even inhaled the scent, praising their beauty and you didn’t notice Jun pulling out his phone and taking pictures of the candid moment, your nose pressed to the petals, your skin tone complementing the rose.

Soonyoung: (to me baby, you are the greatest gift) the way you ended up falling asleep on him curled up on the couch. He had just come after an exhausting practice and all he wanted was to cuddle you in his arms until his idol duties separated you again...or until his limbs fell off; whichever came first. He opened up Disney plus, telling you about the movie that he had been wanting to watch since forever just to see if he still remembered it. Soonyoung found the movie, pressed play, and let you snuggle close to him, throwing a blanket over yourselves. At one point he asked you if you wanted to order pizza for a late, late night dinner when he noticed you weren’t responding to him. He turned to you, ready to ask again, but he saw your eyes closed, breathing in and out deeply and he smiled. He kissed your head and fumbled around for his phone, wanting to capture the moment. He finally found it and after turning off the flash, took a couple of photos, even coming in for a few of them and sent them to you so you’d have something to look forward to when you woke up in the morning.

Wonwoo: (let’s remember this happy day; let’s capture it in a picture) the way you lit up with your photocards. Wonwoo had promised you that when your albums from the other kpop group that had stolen your heart arrived at the boys’ dorms, he’d let you know (even though you got the notifications by email to track their every movement.) Sure enough on a clear Saturday afternoon, he had woken up from his second nap because of your constant knocking. He let you in, rubbing his eyes and grumbling how he could never get any peace and quiet, despite being the only one home. You saw the package on the couch addressed to you and you ran, tripping over someone’s blanket. And then the package disappeared from your sight as Wonwoo picked it up and said you weren’t opening it until you had something to eat and as if knowing you, your stomach growled so you complied grumpily slurping the ramen noodles without really tasting them and being the little shit he was, didn’t let you open the box until he finished eating. You didn’t ask for much, just that you’d be gifted with a bias card. Just one, and then you’d be happy. And with each one you opened, you could feel a little sadness at not seeing your favorite face and Wonwoo made sure to capture your reaction each time. You had given up hope at the fact you weren’t getting your bias this time, but still you opened the final album, thumbing through the photos when you saw the photocard. You flipped it over, and then you showed it Wonwoo with a big grin on your face, radiating with the same happiness and he snapped away, the smile making its way to his face.

Jihoon: (you in viewfinder, the focus is auto. Naturally following the movements, it follows you) the way you covered your face when he was singing the song he wrote for you. You had been under the guise that he had been holed in Universe Factory while everyone spent the day in the great outdoors, so he asked if you could pick up his lunch order and bring it to him. You didn’t bother changing out of your comfortable clothes so you left almost as soon as you read his message. He was surprised to see you so soon, but stammered out how you didn’t want him to be hungry when he still had so long to go. Jihoon smiled at your sweet response, otherwise not being able to form any words. You feel your face warming up, so in order to move away from the awkwardness, you asked him if you could hear what he was working on. He was slightly embarrassed but he took a collective breath and went to pick up his guitar and played. Once you realized it was about you, you looked for something to hide behind so you didn’t notice that Jihoon had stopped playing and quietly pulled out his phone and captured the moment until the sound gave it away but he set it to his lock screen to remind himself of his muse.

Seokmin: (to me, you’re the most precious) the way the wonder etched across your face. You weren’t sure how you managed to convince Seokmin to play hooky but here you were at the sea turtle reserve you volunteered at during the season. You showed him the in and outs of the place, giving him the rundown of how you normally spent your time here. He nodded along, not really understanding a lot but he enjoyed hearing you rave about it and seeing you light up. You even got to show him the nest that you found one day while picking up trash and gave him an estimated date on when they were gonna hatch. You picked up an egg, dusting the sand off when it began to shake and move. Seokmin, not knowing what else to do, searched his phone, finding it in his back pocket, and almost dropping it while trying to unlock it so the perfect moment wouldn’t pass him by. He snapped several of them, from the way the shell cracked open to the way the baby sea turtle popped its head out, all the while you being so mesmerized with a live baby in your palms and he swore he found a new favorite animal as you gingerly placed it on the sand and said goodbye before the ocean wave took him home.

Mingyu: (I want to capture that smile, just as the way you are) the way he got you laughing again. After a long week of struggling with your work life and being dragged into unnecessary family drama, Mingyu snuck into your house and turned it into a mini photography studio, complete with stuffed animals, all your favorite foods and running up your energy bill from all the light sources. The moment he heard you unlocking your door and stepping inside, he ambushed you with his camera, throwing out every compliment that came to his mind and it took everything in you not to cry into the plush when he tossed one at you. He reassured you that you didn’t have to talk to him but he wasn’t gonna leave you alone until you smiled like you meant it. Mingyu then proceeded to poke your cheek, telling jokes, doing aegyo and impersonating his brothers until the corners of your lips turned upwards and you forgot about your hard week. He even went as far to develop the photos and telling you he was keeping them somewhere in the studio so he could always see you happy (and you bawled.)

Minghao: (Ahh, this is how it feels like...3,2,1 shoot) the way the leaves fell around you. When Minghao’s Polaroid came in, the first thing he wanted to do was take you out on a date and capture as many moments as he could. The only problem with that was that he forgot to order extra film, so he had to wait until that arrived. The air had a crisp feeling to it, an uncommon occurrence during the hot weather, but he took advantage of that and took you hiking. The camera was a little heavier than he expected it to but he carried it around, nonetheless. The few butterflies that came out, he snapped; the names you engraved on a tree to symbolize you were together forever, he got twice. He even got the little squirrels chattering at you as if getting you in trouble for vandalizing their home. He loved your hand around his, feeling as if you were one with nature. Minghao, at times, felt as if he was looking at you for the first time, because he couldn’t speak. The light breeze that followed you around blew on the tree as you carved your favorite lyrics into a different tree and you had to stop to catch the falling leaves. Minghao, after refilling the film, raised the lens to his eye and clicked on the camera, the candid moment captured and already developing. He was almost sure he’d put the photo behind his phone case.

Seungkwan: (me by your side and you by my side) the way the fantasy life took over your life. When Wonwoo had raved about a book, your curiosity had gotten the best of you and bought the book for yourself just to see it was worth the buzz that he created and unfortunately for you, it did. Even worse was that Wonwoo failed to tell you that there wasn’t a sequel, but it was a series that just had you ordering all of them at once to save you shipping costs. In that week you read them cover to cover, Seungkwan invited you to Pledis while they worked on songs, vocals, choreos and antics of every size, especially since they stayed late to the point where they went straight home after work. One night while they were perfecting the choreography, you finished another one, and you couldn’t remember where you placed the other book to start reading it, until you found it under Chan’s hoodie and opened it straightaway, immersing yourself in the newest adventure. You missed the way Seventeen finally nailed the moves and the 15 minute break they took to enjoy their soda and burgers and just how loud they were in general. The only thing you complained about was how you couldn’t find a comfortable reading position so Seungkwan took a spot next to and draped an arm around you to bring you close to him and you decided to rest your head over his heart and resumed your reading, although you could feel yourself growing more tired now that you were finally comfortable. Seungkwan picked up his phone that had been charging by an oultet and called you softly once he opened the camera. He placed a soft kiss to your cheek and clicked on the shutter, ecstatic that you didn’t push it away.

Hansol: (a perfect subject that is more than perfect) the way you modeled an old hat you didn’t wear anymore. After your family had threatened to throw away the belongings in your old room, you asked Vernon to take a trip with you to your hometown to clean it out and take with you what you wanted to your new home and the rest could be donated or trashed. He helped you throw your posters away (although that hurt your teenage self a bit), stuffed the shirts you cringed at in a trash bag, and packed some CDs into boxes so you could ship them back. While clearing out one of the drawers on your nightstand, he pulled out a digital camera, the strap decorated in puff paint peeling in some parts. Hansol pressed the power button, unsurprised when it didn’t turn on, so he asked if you had any batteries and you pointed him in the direction of where you remembered you kept them, but you focused more on throwing everything you kept hidden from your nosy family, making sure to rip your notes into tiny pieces in case they decided to rummage through the trash, even going as far as dousing them in water just to be safe. When Hansol managed to finally turn it on, he skimmed across your photos, hardly recognizing the person you used to be but also believing it, since you never lost your smile. He came back into your room, telling you to wear the first thing you grabbed and snapped photo after photo, capturing every movement, even going as far as throwing the hat as you posed for the grand finale. Naturally, Hansol dragged you to the nearest place that developed photos, and picked out a book to keep these in.

Chan: (I know, even if it turns to be hard somehow, but since I have you, everything is alright) the way you couldn’t stay still before getting ready to go to work. When you had quit your last job, you felt a mixture of emotions but mostly the relief of no longer taking people’s shit and the fear of not knowing how you were gonna survive without money. Chan had been more than helpful, letting you move in with him while you got back on your feet. During those days, you had grown closer and eventually started dating, and you found a short college course that could help you in achieving something close to what you wanted. And when you received the degree, you immediately looked for a job in hopes of paying Chan back as soon as possible (even if the idea did offend him. He was more than happy to help you out after all. It seemed that Chan was your good luck charm because you found it...your dream job and got it almost as quickly. You guys celebrated that night and you found yourself being unable to sleep the entire night and you were still up early the next morning. Chan, feeling more like a proud parent than a supportive boyfriend, made you breakfast while you got ready and didn’t let you leave the house until he got many, many, many pictures of you to show off to his friends when he left for Pledis. He sent the selfies to you as a way to remind you that you could conquer the day.

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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

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Time Marches Ever On

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Characters: Osamu Miya, Rintarō Suna

Hey, everyone! I am super stoked to present my story for the @sunaosabigbang! Please also give my partner akira’s art some love! I hope you enjoy and it was a pleasure being part of the event this year~!

Osamu stared listlessly at the ceiling, watching the blades of the ceiling fan spin round and round with lidded dust-brown eyes. Slowly they rotated, spilling cool air down on him as he lay flat on his back in bed. Round and round, they turned, just like the world kept turning too; tick-tock, the clock ticked ever on, just like the alarm clock perched on Osamu’s bedside table. Time marched onward without distinction or prejudice, a different goal for everyone. For Osamu, that was the end of high school and the new chapter beyond. Except, Osamu didn’t know yet what to fill those pages with; they were blank, empty, just like his thoughts as he watched the fan blades slowly spin clockwise above his head. Round and round, ever on.

After several straight minutes of staring, his eyes began to sting from lack of lubrication, so he finally closed his eyes with a quiet sigh. Each day that passed he grew more and more unsettled and fell into these contemplative moods, just lying in bed wondering what was to become of him. He was too young to ruminate like an old man, but he simply couldn’t help it. The future was not clear to him, not like it was to his twin.

Atsumu knew in his heart that volleyball was his dream. He envied his twin for that, more than he’d ever envied him for anything. Atsumu just kept charging forward with that big, confident, cocksure grin on his face. Now Osamu felt himself lagging behind. It felt like he was slogging through wet cement, the thick muck drying on his feet and trying to lock him in place to weigh him down with all his insecurities. He opened his eyes, sadness and trepidation filling his dull, dusty-brown eyes.

He reached down to the volleyball sitting by his bed, scooping it up with one hand to put it on his chest. His hands wrapped around the ball’s surface, fingers exploring the ridges and grooves he’d come to know so well from the game. Atsumu always seemed so sure when he held a volleyball in his hand, like it belonged there. Yet to Osamu, who was so alike to Atsumu in so many ways, the ball felt foreign. He ran his hands over the smooth surface, like he had done many times before, yet he could still not banish the alien hint to the ball it had always carried for him. In his heart, Osamu knew that his destiny was not the same as his brother’s— and that scared him.

With a quiet “Tch!” Osamu chucked the volleyball at the wall. It collided with his dresser instead, filling the room with a hollow thunk. It bounced down to the floor, rolling several feet and coming to rest under Osamu’s bed— like it was hiding from him, like it was rejecting him. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he rolled onto his side and fisted his comforter. He had to make a decision soon; the clock ticked ever on, counting down the seconds to the precipice. As he mulled on his weighty internal debate, the screen on his cell phone lit up, shining bright in the late afternoon gloom. He picked it up to find that it was a simple news notification, but seeing the messaging app near the bottom of his screen gave him an idea.

He pulled up Rintarō’s contact information— which didn’t take long since he was near the top of his message log— and sent him a quick message asking what he was up to. When the other boy replied, Osamu had to smirk, oddly eased at how well his best friend knew him.

I already know what you’re going to ask, because you never ask me what I’m doing unless you want me to come over. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. What are we eating tonight?

Osamu rolled onto his back, quickly replying that he hadn’t decided yet before rolling the rest of the way out of bed. He flung his phone down onto the mattress, not even bothering to check the reply when his phone buzzed against the sheets. He dropped his pajama pants to change into a pair of sweats, not wanting to look like a complete mess in front of Rintarō, though his friend knew he was a mess anyway. Osamu was always a mess when he invited him over; it had become an odd staple in their relationship, Rintarō listening while Osamu ranted about his problems. Of course, when Osamu was stressed he tended to cook. He wasn’t really sure if it was the food that Rintarō was interested in or the notion of being a good friend, but nonetheless, Osamu appreciated the company.

Osamu smirked as his phone began to buzz insistently, indicating that Rintarō was calling him. He scooped it up and swiped to answer as he passed the bed, tucking it between his ear and shoulder while exiting his bedroom.

“Ignoring my text message? Rude,” Rintarō quipped blaisely on the other end of the line. Osamu chuckled, switching ears as he walked into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator to see if any ingredients inspired him today.

“I didn’t know you were so needy, Rin,” Osamu joked, earning an irritated snort from Rintarō. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a kiss when you get here.”

“Ugh, you sound like your brother.”

“That was the point. I wanted to annoy you,” Osamu grinned while picking up a carton of milk to inspect it. He grinned wider when he heard Rintarō snap his teeth irritatedly through the phone.

“Can you do it another way, then? I really don’t want the image of either of you puckering up to kiss me, thanks.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. ‘Tsumu may be more popular, but I’m definitely the better kisser.”

“I’m turning around.”

“Nooooooo,” Osamu wheedled, draping himself over the refrigerator door with a pout. “Rin, I really need to talk.” There was a small moment of silence, followed by the distinct sound of Rintarō breathing out of his nose.

“Why do I put up with you…?” Rintarō muttered, but Osamu could hear the tone of defeat lacing his voice. Osamu smirked triumphantly and went back to ferreting through the refrigerator. He spied a package of ham and pulled it out, raising an eyebrow as an idea hatched in his mind. Some onigirazu would be quick and easy to make, he thought while bouncing the package of ham up and down in his hand. The sound of Rintarō driving buzzed through the phone; they often did this, simply existing in companionable silence as Rintarō made his way to the Miya twins’ residence. Osamu sandwiched the phone between his head and shoulder while he fished eggs and lettuce out of the refrigerator, then moved to the pantry to grab short-grain rice and nori sheets. He dumped all the ingredients on the counter, then, while holding the phone, surveyed them thoughtfully.

“Let me guess— you’re making rice balls,” Rintarō quipped suddenly, and Osamu could feel the smile in his tone. Osamu snorted derisively, crouching down to retrieve a skillet from a low cabinet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I believe you have a fascination with rice.”

“It’s a Japanese staple!” Osamu protested while waving the skillet around emphatically. “I’m sorry that I can’t make a meal without rice or noodles when damn near every recipe in the country contains either!”

“Sounds to me like you need to get a little more original,” Rintarō chided with a teasing laugh, and Osamu puffed out his cheeks derisively. Rather than change his plans, Osamu was going to make the rice sandwiches out of spite now; grumbling, he marched over to the rice cooker, dragging the bag of rice across the counter with him.

“For your information, it’s not rice balls,” he informed with a matter-of-fact head waggle, tearing the bag of rice open. He retrieved a measuring cup and scooped it into a bowl, then carried it over to the sink, squashing the phone into his shoulder again. “It’s rice sandwiches.”

“Oh, well excuse me,” Rintarō said, and the snark in his tone made Osamu scowl. He drowned out the boy’s next snippety reply by flipping on the tap, sending a cascade of water gushing from the silver spout.

“Oh? What was that? I can’t hear you over washing my rice!” he cried loudly, spinning the grains around the bowl with his hands to clean off all the impurities. He just barely heard Rintarō snort over the grating of the rice against the plastic bowl and the thundering cascade of water. Though he wanted to keep it on for the rest of the phone call to drown out his friend’s chiding, that wasn’t good for the environment, now was it? Huffing, Osamu flipped off the tap and slapped a handheld strainer onto the bowl to drain the frothy water. “You’re such a dick, Rin,” he sniffed petulantly into the phone. “I’m not gonna cook for you anymore if all you’re gonna do is make fun of me.”

“I thought that was the beauty of our relationship, though?” Rintarō said, and Osamu had to smile, imagining the smirk that was painting his thin lips right then. He closed his eyes as he carried the washed rice back to the cooker and dumped it into the cooker, then grabbed his trusty measuring cup.

“Oh, so you can make fun of me but I can’t make fun of you?” he asked, walking back to the sink to fill up the cup. He kept the running water more gentle this time, more to avoid overfilling the cup than to avoid being rude.

“Exactly. I’m glad you’re following along.”

“I’m going to eat all the rice sandwiches before you get here,” Osamu warned, walking back to fill up the rice cooker with water. As he slapped the lid closed and set the timer, he heard Rintarō chuckle.

“Too late, I’m already here.”

“Fine. I’ll eat them right in front of you.”

“Oof, how heartless. You invite me over to ask some of my sage advice, and you won’t even feed me?” Rintarō pouted. The sound of his car door shutting echoed through the phone’s speaker.

“Nope. Matter of fact, I won’t let you in, either. You can give me your sage advice through the door,” he teased even while he was walking to the front of the house to let Rintarō in. The boy’s dry laugh sounded through the phone, followed by the sound of him hanging up. Osamu tucked his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants as he made it to the door. Rintarō must have heard him walking, because the boy piped up as he reached for the doorknob.

“All right then, what sage advice can I give today?” he shouted through the door, voice bleeding through the wood. Osamu snorted in laughter and shook his head; he always had to appreciate Rintarō’s gift of sticking with a joke. He flipped the lock and turned the knob, his hand on his hip as he greeted his friend with a smile. “Oh? Change of heart?” the dark-haired boy said with a raised eyebrow. “I knew you had some good in you, ‘Samu.”

“Just get in here before I become serious about not feeding you,” Osamu laughed and stepped aside. Rintarō walked into the entryway, shrugging out of his jacket and slipping out of his shoes like he’d done a hundred times before. As he tossed his jacket over the hook hanging on the wall, he looked at Osamu with narrowed eyes.

“Are you all right, ‘Samu?”

The question took Osamu by surprise; after talking with Rintarō, he’d begun to feel a lot better. He couldn’t lie to Rintarō’s trained eyes, however; the boy could read the tension still lingering in his body, the bags under his dusty-brown eyes, the uncertainty hiding in his expression and voice. Osamu sagged slightly, shaking his head at Rintarō’s ability to always get right to the point. Instead of replying, he just motioned for the boy to follow him; Rintarō complied, sliding into house slippers and shuffling after Osamu into the kitchen.

Rintarō slid into a barstool, clasping his hands and waiting patiently for his friend to gather his thoughts. Osamu retrieved his skillet and placed it on the stove, flipping on the burner. For a moment, he watched the blue-white flames dance beneath the gas burner and spread heat throughout the small space; yet it didn’t reach Osamu, who had begun to grow cold with the weight of the world slowly pressing down on him like a hydraulic press. Robotically, he walked to the refrigerator to grab some butter, slapping a chunk of it on the skillet and pushing it around with the spatula to melt it.

“Rintarō… Have you begun to think about the future?” Osamu started quietly. He heard his friend shift in the barstool, and through the reflection in the microwave in front of him, could see him push his fist into his cheek as he looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“Well, a little bit. I mean, we’re second-years going on third-years… We kind of have to think about it since college entrance exams and all that stuff will be coming up,” he said, pursing his lips slightly. “But, I certainly don’t have it all figured out or anything.” Osamu nodded, melting the last of the butter. He grabbed an egg and cracked it open; the whites bubbled and hissed as it came into contact with the hot pan, and the yolk swam within the clearish-white liquid, bright and gold like the sun. Osamu had always fancied his twin like the sun— bright, loud, confident— and he as the moon, merely reflecting its light and possessing no brilliance of its own.

As he cracked another egg open, he asked, “Do you think you’ll keep playing volleyball?”

“You mean, next year?”

“No, after that.”

“Hmm,” Rintarō frowned, a bit stumped by the question. “I guess I haven’t thought too much about it. But I do enjoy it, so I could see myself continuing on in college and maybe even community.” Osamu watched through the microwave reflection as Rintarō perked up, lowering his hand back to the counter to stare at his back in surprise. “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah,” Osamu sighed, closing his eyes. He opened them again after a second, cracking two more eggs on the pan. He nudged the edges around with the spatula, waiting for the protein-based part of the egg to turn fully white and a little crispy around the edges before flipping them over, one by one, and taking care not to break the yolk. Not that Rintarō would care, as he’d scarf down any of Osamu’s cooking, but the young chef did have his pride. “Atsumu’s like that. He’s been talking a lot about what college and community teams that he’d like to play for. But I…” he trailed off, watching the eggs bubble on the skillet. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that, Rin.”

Rintarō didn’t answer, just watching as Osamu grabbed another skillet and put it on another burner, flipping it to a higher temperature. He slapped some more butter on the black surface, melting it to a bubbly liquid, and then pulled the package of ham to him. As he carved off some pieces that would fit in his rice sandwiches, he continued quietly, “Atsumu and I have always been a team. We’re twins, after all; we know each other better than anyone, like we’re really just two halves of the same whole or just the same person. But lately, I have the feeling that… I’m not as much like him as I thought.”

The ham sizzled as he laid it on the skillet, the pink-red meat roasting and filling the air with a hearty-sweet scent. “Atsumu is the star, I know that now, and I’m just a shadow that makes him shine brighter. I think I’ve always known that, deep down, but I was scared to admit it.”

“‘Samu, you’re just as good a player as Astumu is,” Rintarō piped up, and Osamu sighed frustratedly, his words not getting across quite what he wanted. He waved the spatula around as he tried to gather the jumbled-up thoughts he’d been ruminating on for nearly half the year.

“No, that’s not quite what I mean,” he frowned, poking at the eggs to see if they were ready. Deciding they were a good over-medium, he grabbed a paper plate and slid them off the skillet one by one, then walked over to the sink. He dropped it in and turned on the cold water; as it hit the burning hot, greasy surface of the skillet it evaporated immediately, filling the air with white wisps of steam. “I know I’m good, but… Atsumu shines because he enjoys volleyball with his entire soul, and I don’t think I can say the same.”

He left the skillet too cool in the sink before walking back to the stove, flipping over the ham before grabbing the lettuce. He pulled out the leaves onto the cutting board, chopping off a few before putting them in a paper bowl and carrying them back to the sink to wash them off. “I enjoy it, sure, but I think it’s more because I knew I could help Atsumu shine. But now, Atsumu is doing that well enough on his own, and I just…” he trailed off, the water filling the bowl and making the lettuce float as he stared off into space. “I want… Something of my own.”

He looked to Rintarō, who gazed at him levelly. There was no hint of judgment; there never was. Osamu could tell him his deepest, darkest, most selfish wishes and Rintarō would never look at him as a nasty person, never look at him like he was flawed. He would just look at him in understanding, like he was human, like he was just Osamu— and he appreciated that more than anything.

Osamu remembered the lettuce and flipped off the tap, grabbing some paper towels. He slopped the sodden leaves onto the absorbent paper and blotted them dry, then carried them back over to the counter near the stove. The ham had finished cooking as well, so he flipped off the burner and piled them onto the plate next to the eggs, giving the hot pan the same treatment as the one before. The rice cooker chimed pleasantly, indicating that it had finished as well, and he popped it open. He waited for the steam to billow up, condensing on the wall and the underside of the counter in little dewdrops. Osamu waited for the top layer of the rice to cool enough for him to handle with his hands before scooping it up and plopping it onto a plate.

“So you want something of your own, and you don’t think that something is volleyball?” Rintarō finally said, and Osamu nodded. He could feel Rintarō’s sharp, golden-yellow eyes studying his back as he shaped the bottom layer of the rice sandwich and then gently laid a lettuce leaf on top.

“Is that selfish of me?” Osamu asked quietly, pausing in the middle of scooping a thick chunk of ham onto the half-made sandwich. The barstool squeaked as Rintarō shifted on it.

“Why would that be selfish of you?”

“Atsumu and I are a team… I’m sure a part of him imagines that we’ll keep going on together, the great Miya twins, striking down our enemies on the same court.” There was no bitterness in his voice, just an acute sadness that he knew in his heart that his brother’s dream would never come true. “Is it selfish of me to quash his hopes like that? To make him go on alone?”

“Osamu,” Rintarō sighed, and the light-haired boy knew that he was getting serious by using his full name. Though his back was still to him, draping the egg on top of the ham and scooping another layer of rice on top so he could begin molding it into a sandwich shape, he still listened keenly to his friend. “That’s not selfish of you at all. You’re not responsible for Atsumu’s happiness. I’m sure he’s enjoyed playing with you, but if he throws a tantrum because you want to have your own dream, then he’s the selfish one.”

Osamu smiled wanly, grabbing some nori paper and wrapping it around the molded sandwich. Rintarō always put things so plainly, always put things in perspective when Osamu got too in his head; he appreciated that aspect about him, which is why he’d chosen him to always give him advice, even if it wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to hear. Even now, though he knew Rintarō spoke the truth, he hurt; his heart ached at the idea of walking a different path than his twin, the brother he’d shared a special connection with since the womb. Yet he also knew it would hurt to live forever in his shadow, focused more on Atsumu’s happiness than his own.

Tears glimmered on his dark lashes, making the rice sandwich in his hands blurry like watercolors. He heard the chair scoot when Rintarō slipped off of it, walking around the bar to enter the kitchen. He flitted behind Osamu, wordlessly walking to the sink to flip on the water. “Everyone wants to become their own person eventually,” he explained. Osamu watched out of the corners of his eyes as he grabbed the bottle of dish soap and a sponge, saturating the sponge in the thick blue liquid and frothing it up under the water. “It’s just part of being human, yanno.” He began scrubbing one of the greasy pans, spreading brown-tinged soap over the cast iron surface. “And you deserve that, ‘Samu. You deserve to live for yourself, everybody does.”

“Yeah,” Osamu said hoarsely. He sucked in a breath, blinking several times to dry his tears. The few that had bubbled up slipped down his cheeks, which he wiped away with the hem of his tee-shirt. He finished wrapping the nori paper around the rice sandwich before getting started on the next. “You’re right… It’s just, even though I spent my whole life knowing how Atsumu thinks, I don’t know how he’s going to react to this.”

“He’ll react how he does, and you’ll have to deal with that then,” Rintarō shrugged. “If he throws a little fit, he’ll get over it after he takes some time to think and clear his head. More than anything, he loves you and wants you to be happy. He’s your brother, and more than that, your twin.”

“Yeah,” Osamu smiled, patting the rice down between his palms. “That’s true. But he’s also a big brat.”

“Tch, you got that right,” Rintarō snorted, rinsing off the pan and grabbing a nearby dish towel to dry it. “He’ll definitely complain because he just can’t help but pitch a fit about anything and everything.”

“You called me heartless, but you’re the heartless one, Rin,” Osamu laughed, and his friend only responded with a shrug. He handed Osamu the pan to put away, then started on the next.

“How am I heartless? I came over here to listen to you whine, and I’m even cleaning your dishes for you. I’d call that generous.”

“You’re so full of yourself!” Osamu laughed, shaking his head and setting the finished rice sandwich on a plate. “Here, a reward for your hard work, Mr. Generosity.” Rintarō wiped the sudsy water off his hands before walking over to take the plate, leaving the half-cleaned pan in the sink for Osamu to finish later, probably. He shuffled back to the bar to plop into his seat, shoving half the rice sandwich in his mouth to chomp down on it. Osamu looked over his shoulder as he worked on the third, unable to keep from silently asking Rintarō’s opinion. His teammate chewed thoughtfully, then leaned into the bar with a small smile.

“I’d give it a solid seven out of ten,” he rated, making Osamu snort and grab the dish towel to chuck it at him. Rintarō caught it with the hand not currently occupied with the rice sandwich, waiting for Osamu to turn his back before lobbing it at his head. Osamu rolled his eyes and draped the dish towel over his shoulder, setting the finished sandwich aside before beginning on the last one.

“That’s not a very nice way to treat the chef.”

“The chef started it,” was all Rintarō said before filling his mouth with more of Osamu’s delicious rice sandwich. Osamu chuckled. He never could win with Rintarō; he always got the last word, but that was okay. There was a special affection in their little banter that always calmed him down when his nerves ran away from him, and of course, cooking for him always helped, too. Finally, he finished making his own sandwiches and walked over to the bar, climbing up into the stool next to his friend and exhaling deeply.

“I really do use rice a lot, huh?” he laughed as he picked up the sandwich, turning it over in his hands to inspect it.

“Well, as you said, it’s a ‘Japanese staple,’” Rintarō replied, his mouth full of rice and egg and ham. He made air quotes as he used Osamu’s words against him, making the gray-haired man snort and shake his head. Still, the phrase got him thinking. Instead of biting the sandwich, he tore it in half, watching the yolk ooze over the lettuce and ham and rice.

“You know, Rin, maybe I should start a restaurant.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… An onigiri restaurant. Onigiri is quick and easy to make, but there’s so many ways to do it,” he thought aloud, taking a small bite of the sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. Next time I’ll season the ham, he thought absently and swallowed. “I could probably make other stuff, too, like rice sandwiches and junk... I mean, a lot of people would be willing to pay for a ‘Japanese staple,’ right?”

“Probably,” Rintarō nodded, working on his second sandwich. Osamu had to smile; when Rintarō really enjoyed his cooking, he grew quiet. The two of them ate in silence for a few minutes, just the sound of their quiet smacking filling the air of the kitchen. There really were two things that defined his friendship with Rintarō, witty banter and companionable silence. Such a dichotomous set of circumstances, but they made it work pretty well, he thought with a sidelong glance at his friend. Rintarō had finished practically inhaling the food and pushed the plate away, turning to lean his cheek in his hand and look at Osamu.

“So, onigiri?”

“Yeah,” Osamu said after swallowing a bite. He tilted his head, looking at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand— specifically, the rice. Already, visions of onigiri danced in his head— filled with various premier filings, others with more traditional and nostalgic recipes, some soaked in soy sauce or miso and grilled. The possibilities really were endless. A smile bloomed on his lips as he imagined it, a food truck cart with just a kitchen for him, and smiling faces at his counter as he delivered warm food that would fill bellies and hearts. “Yeah,” he said again, a dreamy echo to his voice.

“It sounds to me like you’ve already got a great dream for yourself, ‘Samu,” Rintarō smiled, making Osamu look at him. His yellow eyes were slightly lidded and gazing at him proudly. “You should work hard for it. This is your court, after all,” he said with a gesture to the kitchen. Osamu looked at it, at the stove and his tools and the ingredients, and realized he was right. Osamu’s heart had always truly lied with fire and spices, with knife and spoon, with fresh ingredients and kitchen experiments. Sure, landing a spike was nice… But nothing had ever come close to the little flutter in his heart when someone took the first bite of his food and a smile had instantly sprung to their lips.

“Yeah, you’re right, Rin,” Osamu said, closing his eyes. “This is my court.”

Maybe he wouldn’t share the court with Atsumu anymore, but that was okay. Here on this court, he could learn to shine just as bright as his brother could. But that didn’t mean that they had to go completely their separate ways. They were brothers, twins. Osamu would always have his door and heart open for his brother. While Atsumu wowed the world with his show-stopping talent, Osamu would be on another stage, bringing home-cooked meals to the masses. Yet he’d always have a seat for his beloved brother, ready to give a listening ear and his favorite meal. A star athlete couldn’t perform on an empty belly, after all.

Osamu found himself smiling as he imagined it, more than he’d ever smiled while thinking about roaming the various courts with his brother. Time would march ever on, bringing them closer and closer to the fork in their road— but Osamu wasn’t afraid of that anymore. Roads were winding and interconnected, and so he and Atsumu would always find their way back to one another.

“Thanks, Rin,” Osamu said, opening his eyes to look back at his friend. When he did, he discovered that Rintarō had stolen the other rice sandwich off his plate and was chewing on it unabashedly. Osamu smiled wanly, shaking his head. “You could’ve just asked me to make you another, you know. You didn’t have to steal mine.”

“Well, it was just sitting there while you were all in your feelings,” Rintarō shrugged. “I figured that I would put it out of its misery.”

“What about my misery?”

“Eh,” Rintarō shrugged and jammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. “You’ll live.” Osamu rolled his eyes and shoved Rintarō lightly in the shoulder, making the boy grunt and give him a small pout. His eyes brightened when Osamu slid down from the stool, and he hopefully asked, “Are you making more?”

“Yes, yes,” Osamu laughed with a wave of his hand, rounding the bar to the kitchen— his court. “Be patient, you fatass. You’ll get more.”

“You’re so mean to me, ‘Samu. I don’t wanna be friends anymore.”

“Fine, but no more of my cooking for you.”

“I was joking!” Rintarō cried, a little desperate. Osamu picked up his trusty spatula with a chuckle, looking back at him.

“That’s what I thought. Now, just sit there and watch a master go to work, will ya?”

Yes, this was his court, he thought as he looked around the kitchen with a soft smile. He was home here, even without his twin. He’d make art here, art for all to share as time marched ever on, bringing him closer and closer to the realization of a dream he’d start working on this very minute. Tick-tock, the clock ticks ever on, but he had nothing to fear now. The world was his onigiri to mold and make and fill with what he wished.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#sunaosa #osamu miya #miya osamu #suna rintaro #rintaro suna #suna rintarou #rintarou suna #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#inarizaki

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theworldofotps · 4 years ago

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Just Another Day In Paradise

(Birthday week fic # 5)

____ Pairing: Finn Balor x Reader Word Count: 1,701 Description: Even when things don't go to plan Finn wouldn't have life any other way.

Song based (song) _________ Tag list:

@writtingrose @mondaynightmcintyre @sjwrites22 @sassymox @the-beastslayers-queen @thewrestlingwarehouse @new-zealand-chic @commanderflip @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xladyxfatex @biforrollynch @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @theeblueehazee @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @xbreezymeadowsx @rebellious-desires

If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. _________

"Good morning baby, how are you?"

I smile coming into the kitchen pressing a kiss to y/n's cheek I turn towards the table where our four-year-old daughter is sat.

“Well good morning my love I’m doing good you?”

"Good in a little rush but good and a good morning to you princess did you sleep well?"

CC smiles nodding her head as I lean down scooping her up for a hug dropping a kiss to the top of her head before setting her back down. Going to the fridge I pull out the milk pouring some in a glass.

"Are you getting ready to head out my love?"

"Yeah Seth is coming with a car to pick me up we have a few house shows but I will be home Friday morning."

Taking a swig of the milk I spit it back into the cup making a face as y/n and CC start giggling at my expression.

"Did it go bad?"

Y/n asks trying to keep her laughs to herself as she gets a napkin for me to wipe my mouth and a glass of water to rinse it out.

"Definitely."

"Alright, I'll add it to the list darling make sure you give daddy a big hug."

"I don't want you to go."

CC pouts crossing her arms I walk over bending down to her level moving some hair from her eyes.

"I know you don't love I have to tho but I do have a surprise I'll be picking you up from school on Friday since mummy has to work late."

"Ice cream date?”

She whispers and I give her a grin nodding, every time I picked her up from school or we had some time alone together we went on a secret ice cream date.

"Don't tell mummy."

Holding my pinky out we wrap them kissing the tops of our hands I hug her pressing a kiss to her cheek. Setting her back down to finish her breakfast I walk over pulling y/n into a tight hug pressing a kiss to her mouth.

"Don't forget Mrs. Devitt I am taking you out Friday night."

"Is Sasha still able to watch her?"

"Yeah I spoke with her about it yesterday she's excited they all love CC."

When the bell rings I give her a sigh squeeze.

“That’s probably my ride now, door is open!”

“Good morning Devitt family!” Seth yells out a hello and our daughter quickly gets down from her chair.

"Uncle Seth!"

"Hey there cupcake where's my big bear hug?"

Chuckling as she tackles him I lace my fingers with y/n's leading her to where my suitcase is sat she hugs Seth before turning towards me.

"Promise you'll be careful?"

"I always am I'll give you a call when we get there please be safe I don't want my girls getting hurt and I'll see you in a few days I love you."

"I love you too."

Pressing a kiss to her lips I hug them both handing CC to y/n before grabbing my suitcase waving I follow Seth outside.

"How've ya been man?"

"Good just busy how about you?"

"Great a bit hectic the last few days CC was sick but started feeling better yesterday y/n was babysitting so it's been busy."

"Sounds like you're still enjoying yourself tho."

"Yep I can't help it I got a fantastic wife, a beautiful daughter it's just another day in paradise."

Seth smiles patting me on the back setting my case in the trunk I get in the passenger seat waving at the girls in the window before we drive off. ~(Friday)~ "We painted this for you too."

CC smiles as we sit in the ice cream parlor after school on Friday I look at the picture she painted with her best friend.

"It's beautiful princess we'll have to put it on the fridge when we get home I have another surprise for you."

"What is it?!"

"Shh calm down, aunt Sasha is coming over tonight to see you."

"Really?"

She squeals I nod my head smiling as she claps her hands happily we finish our ice cream before I buckle her up heading for home. Listening to her sing along to her favorite CD I soon join her. Once we’re safely inside we go to the fridge hanging her picture up then racing to the living room to watch a movie.

"Wait I have to get Balor Bear."

Pausing the opening credits I sit there waiting while she runs to get the bear that Dean and Roman got for her shortly after she was born. A few minutes later she walks in holding the soft red and black bear tightly to her chest before climbing on my lap.

We watch a few movies and when the doorbell rings she runs over holding her hands in front of her.

"Hold on you."

Walking over I look out the peephole seeing Sasha pulling the door open CC runs into her arms squealing happily. Chuckling I greet Sasha ushering them into the living room we chat for a few minutes before my cell rings.

"I'll be right back."

Heading into the kitchen I smile seeing y/n's name on the screen bringing it up to my ear I speak.

"Hello, darling."

"Hey, babe I just wanted to see if you made it home safely."

"Yeah I did CC is in with Sasha she just got here so I'm sure they'll be busy watching movies and playing."

"That's great."

"You alright love?"

"Yeah I'm just a bit stressed my boss is letting the meeting run over so I don't know what time I'm going to be home. I'm so sorry Finn I really am but I'm going to try my hardest to get everything wrapped up as soon as possible."

"Don't stress out okay love just get here when you can and be safe I love you."

"I love you so much."

Speaking for a few minutes I let her go then head back into the living room to join in on the game of go fish. Throughout the afternoon and start of the evening y/n sends me tons of apology messages telling me she'll be home as soon as she can. When seven thirty rolls around I tell Sasha to head on home and get some rest with a promise to be by the next morning to spend a girls day with CC she heads out. Carrying her upstairs I give her a bath making sure to brush her hair out when she's done and put her in warm pajamas. Tucking her in bed I grab her favorite book lying next to her and reading until she's fast asleep. Leaving the door cracked I dial a number speaking quickly into it when I see y/n pull into the driveway. Waiting by the stairs I give her a smile when she comes in setting her bag on the counter.

"I'm so sorry."

"Shh."

Wrapping her in a hug I press a kiss to her head rubbing her back before cupping her face.

"I didn't mean to be so late Ferg I tried everything but he wouldn't hurry and then I got stuck in traffic. I'm sorry we missed the dinner reservation if I could have been here any sooner I would be I'm so so sorry."

Wiping the tears quickly falling from her eyes I kiss her softly pulling her back into my arms swaying us.

"Shh it's okay you can't help it and don't worry about the reservations we can always improvise. Go ahead up and take a hot bath then when you're done come back down here I just put CC to bed."

Giving her a gentle push up the stairs I walk into the dining room setting some candles in the holders we have. Setting the table with some drinks and plates I answer the door when the bell rings so it doesn't wake CC, paying for the pizza I shut locking the door. When y/n finally comes downstairs I smile kissing her forehead leading her to the table.

"What is this?"

"Improvising baby we're having Domino’s by candlelight."

"You're the best husband ever."

"Tell me something I don't already know."

I wink having her sit we eat in silence for a few minutes before talking about everything that had happened over the four days I was gone. Laughing as I tell her a match between myself and Drew we clean up after we eat. Wrapping my arm around her waist I kiss her smiling as she lets out a sigh.

"You know since she's in bed and we don't have anything else down here why don't we head upstairs? I think we could find something to get up to and trust me, baby, I promise that you'll enjoy it because it's overdue."

Giggling y/n nods her head letting me lead her up the stairs we tiptoe into our room closing the door. Keeping the lights off I kiss her backing us towards the bed running my fingers through her hair I work on marking her neck. Tugging my shirt off she sits up slowly dragging her fingers down my chest. Biting her lip lightly I grab the hem of her shirt stopping when we hear a small knock on the door before CC's sad voice.

"Mummy, daddy?"

"What's wrong princess?"

"I had a bad dream."

Kissing y/n's forehead she climbs off me going over to the door I lean back against the pillows holding my arm up when CC crawls in between us. Wiping her tears away I press a kiss to her head as y/n rubs her back shushing her.

"It's okay darling would you like to sleep with daddy and I tonight?"

"We won't let anything get you promise."

She nods her head snuggling into the pillows we quietly sing her back to sleep as she holds her teddy bear close.

"I'm sorry nothing went as planned tonight babe."

"It's alright love it's just another day in my paradise I wouldn't want this any other way."

Kissing her we lay with our little girl between us whispering softly to each other our fingers laced resting on her hip.

#finn balor #finn balor one shot #finn balor x reader #fluff #birthday week fic

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whereisten · 5 years ago

Text

The Wedding Singer - Part 3

The Wedding Singer (feat. Taeyong and Yuta)

Summary: You are an up-and-coming singer and songwriter who is thriving in the wedding singer business. When you find yourself singing for your former best friend Samantha Perez and not-so-former crush Yuta Nakamoto, shit really hits the fan.

Genre: fluff, drama, romance

Multi-part Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 3

Word Count: 3.9k

It was nearing Christmas, which meant there was one week left until the wedding of the century. Samantha finalized the song selections with you. Johnny would be on guitar while Jungwoo would be on piano alongside the rest of the wedding band. Johnny was pretty jazzed because he would see Stella again, rise to the occasion, and ask her out. They met the night you performed at Holy Hell. It was all over for Johnny when Stella genuinely laughed at one of his dad jokes.

Everything seemed to be falling into place these days. Your career was on the rise. Record labels from all over the county wanted to sign you. You were a breakout YouTube star after Jungwoo uploaded your performance of Bad Boy. You were booked for even more weddings that you had to start turning people away.

And best of all, you had the most incredible man in your corner. In the span of months, Taeyong was your best friend and your biggest fan. He showered you with affection in every way that he could. And it seemed like he would never stop.

If only you could find a way to return the favor.

Taeyong was adamant that you did not have to give him anything. He told you that your presence was the present and you had to walk out of his office when he said that to you last week. He’d been spending too much time with Johnny.

You were babysitting Taeyong and Samantha’s little half-sister Sonya while they were away. Her mother was on a yoga treat with her friends. Samantha was doing a photo shoot in New York. She was doing a cover story for Elle Magazine for her success as a fitness model and a celebrity chef. Taeyong was in New York with his father. They were in negotiations to acquire a a very popular restaurant chain that they hoped to bring to Miami.

Yuta picked Sonya up to take her to school before you headed to RCA Records.

“y/n, is there anything you want for Christmas?” Sonya asked you as you tied her hair. She was about to leave for her last day of classes before Christmas break.

You thought about it. As cheesy as it sounded, you had everything you could ever need.

You checked your phone to see if you had any messages and smiled at your lock screen of Taeyong scrunching his nose.

“You’re pink,” Sonya giggled. She watched your reflection.

You shook your head. “Is the AC even on?”

The doorbell downstairs bellowed throughout the Lee estate.

“It must be your future brother-in-law,” you said to her.

Sonya ran out of her room and down the grand staircase of the mansion. She ran past the maid that was about to answer the door.

“YUTA!” Sonya squealed when she saw him at the door.

Yuta gave her a big bear hug.

He was in dark wash jeans and a white tee, looking well-rested. He looked better than you’d last seen him. He’d been up and down about the upcoming nuptials. As much as you wanted to tell him to not go through with the wedding, it wasn’t your place.

“Hey, Yuta,” you said, “How’s it going?”

“It’s going. How are you? Have you decided who you’re signing with yet?” He threw his car keys up and caught them quickly.

“Yuta, what time is it?” You asked.

He frowned as he looked at his Apple Watch. “7:35.”

“Right? I don’t talk about anything serious until after 9:30 so I won’t answer that.”

He laughed as he grabbed Sonya’s Elena of Avalor backpack. “Right. But you’re doing okay right?”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

Yuta mustered his most winning smile as he tried to ignore his truth.

Taeyong and Samantha would be back in time for their friend Sooyoung’s wedding tonight. Because mega pop star Luna had scheduling conflicts and at Taeyong’s high recommendation, Sooyoung hired you a month back. Johnny would join you as a band member and as your singing partner.

;;

After you discussed the set list with Johnny for tonight, you walked back to your car and were surprised when a red tulip was propped on your windshield.

As a woman, you felt joy, confusion, and mostly, fear. This anonymous gift was not to be trusted.

You debated grabbing the tulip because it could’ve been laced with poison. Who would try to do such a thing to you?

Well, Samantha could be above murder.

But was she?

You decided to leave the tulip be so you can get home, grab some gloves, put the tulip in a ziploc bag, and take it to the police station.

It would be awkward to send Samantha to jail a week before her wedding.

You grabbed your keys from your handbag and got into your car.

Your phone rang. You relaxed once you saw who called.

“Hey,” you said, exhaling in relief.

“I guess you don’t like tulips?” Taeyong said, a lace of hurt in his voice.

“That was you?! I thought you were some creep trying to kill me.” Leave out the part where you were 98% sure it was stepsister.

“How would a tulip kill-You need to lay off the Lifetime movies, babe.”

You laughed as you got out of the car and took the tulip in your hands. “If it makes you feel better, it’s the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen. You took in its fresh scent and hummed. “It smells amazing.”

Taeyong was silent over the line.

“Taeyong?” You asked.

Nothing.

And he hung up when you checked.

You turned back to the driver’s seat and saw him before you with a huge bouquet of red tulips. His big brown eyes were warm and welcoming. You imagined he was beaming behind the bouquet.

You couldn’t wait to kiss him so you pressed yourself against him and the flowers. You pecked him on the lips and almost lost your balance. He steadied you. “Hi,” you said, flustered at being such a dork in front of him.

He wrapped his arms around you for a moment and pulled back. “Mind if I set these aside first?” He didn’t want your flowers to get ruined.

You pulled away from him so he could put the flowers on the driver’s seat.

“Hey, songbird,” he said as he opened his arms wide.

You jumped into his arms and squeezed him tightly.

He’d been gone for a week but you were very clingy.

“I missed you,” you said as you nuzzled into his neck. He smelled of lavender and fabric softener. You wanted to lie in bed with him and snuggle him like a pillow. You were sickening.

“I missed you more,” he said as he kissed the top of your head. “Are you free?”

“I’m free until the ceremony,” you said as you played with the buttons of his baby blue button-down.

“Great because I want to take you somewhere,” he said as he lifted your chin and kissed your lips.

;;

Taeyong took you a pottery painting place. It was called Stella’s. It was located a few blocks from Holy Hell Nightclub. He wanted to bring you here for a while now so you two could be alone in a quiet space and maybe get into a paint fight.

“It’s quiet. Must be a slow day,” you noted, in marvel of the shop. It was filled to the brim with all kinds of figurines to choose from. The paint selection almost brought you to tears.

Taeyong cleared his throat. “Actually, the place is ours for the afternoon.”

You put down a ceramic owl that was too cute for words. “What do you mean?”

“Stella’s parents own this spot and I asked her for a favor.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Are you mad?” Taeyong asked, worried.

You shook your head. “No...It’s just...You are...Too good to me sometimes.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Taeyong was the poster child for the ideal boyfriend. It was amazing but sometimes you felt a little out of your league.

And the way that he endlessly spoiled you. You loved every bit of it but you wondered if you were too greedy. If you weren’t doing enough for him.

You worried that at some point, he would get bored with you.

And you knew you were wrong to think that.

Taeyong almost cried when you gave him a homemade minion sweater for him to take to New York.

He appreciated you for you. It wasn’t his fault that he was disgustingly wealthy.

You two had fun together. Most of the time, you two dated like a healthy functioning couple.

Movies. Supermarket trips. Playing with your two cats Kai and Jax at your place. Late night trips to the beach.

The best nights you had together were when you went to the movies and indulged on popcorn.

But then Taeyong would catch you by surprise. Like today.

You admitted to him, “Sometimes...I feel like I’m never going to be able to make you happy the way you do me. I don’t want to let you down.”

Taeyong moved closer to you. “You could never let me down, y/n.”

You held his hands. “I want to make you happy.”

He wrapped his arms around you. “You have no idea just how much better my life is with you in it.”

You nuzzled into his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart. You loved him.

Soon, you would tell him.

You two settled down and started painting. Taeyong picked out a horse figuring to paint all shades of pink for Sonya. You picked a slice of cake figurine for Taeyong for his sweet tooth.

“So when I got up on the stage, I almost fell on my face,” you said, remembering your junior year of high school. The first time you sang in public was at your school’s annual talent show.

“You were nervous,” Taeyong noted.

“I wanted the earth to swallow me whole,” you said, “If it weren’t for Johnny being beside me of the stage, I never would’ve given myself the chance.” Johnny was one of the reasons why you became a singer. He believed in you. He was your truest friend.

Taeyong added, “He’s a great friend to you. I’m happy you have such good people around you.”

You rolled your eyes to avoid blushing. “You are so...Sweet that I’m about to get a cavity. I saw a dentist around the corner. I gotta bounce and get that filling.”

Taeyong chuckled. “I’m stating facts, y/n. Most of my friends are in LA so seeing you two makes me miss that...”

What about Yuta, you wondered. But something inside you made you decide not to mention it.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, “Maybe we spend too much time together?”

Taeyong froze. “What?”

“Taeyong, your life is basically work, me, and accumulating the best plush Pokémon collection.”

Taeyong gaped. “I resent that. Your life is basically work, me, and accumulating the best Pokémon card collection.”

“To conclude, we’re both nerds that need to get out more,” you said.

“But I love spending time with you. You’re my best friend,” Taeyong admitted.

You grabbed your paintbrush full of dandelion yellow paint and painted his arm. “Shut up.”

Taeyong grabbed his brush full of rose pink paint and painted your nose. “Cringe brings out cringe, babe.”

You painted each other and tried to restrict the mess to your table so Stella wouldn’t blacklisted either of you.

Taeyong traced magenta onto your side bang. You laughed as you finished painting your cake slice.

He just watched you for a moment. The sparkle of mischief in your eye when you stared at each other. The wondrous song that was your laugh. The matching Spongebob friendship rings you bought.

“y/n,” he said slowly. The sound of your name on his mouth sounded so lovely.

“Yeah?” You asked, focused on painting a corner carefully but peeking at his soft expression.

“I-“ Taeyong began.

And then his phone rang. He glared at his phone. He sighed.

He answered his phone, “Can it wait?”

The person on the other line replied.

Taeyong’s eyes grew. “I see. We’ll discuss it on Monday, Doyoung. Okay, thanks.” He hung up.

“What’s up?” You asked. Taeyong’s demeanor was unreadable.

He debated telling you about his latest job opportunity but he wanted to make sure he had all of the details before he brought it up with you.

“Remember how I told you it’s been a dream of mine to start up my own cinema chain?”

He told you on your first “date”. “Yeah.”

“Well, Doyoung and I are planning to lay the groundwork for our own movie theater. We just spoke to our last investor and we got the green light.”

“Your own movie theater?” You gasped. “Tae, that’s incredible!” You squeezed his hand.

He smiled softly and it quickly faded. “The thing is...”

“It’s not in Miami,” you finished, already having a feeling with the way he reacted over the phone.

He shook his head. “It’s in LA.”

“Oh,” you said.

He watched you carefully. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t anticipate our plans developing so quickly. I wasn’t sure if it would happen. I’m so happy here with you. I would never want you to think-“

“Honey, it’s your dream,” you started, “I want this for you.”

“But...would it be too much for me to ask you to come with me? If not, could you handle long distance?” He worried about stressing you out. He thought he had more time.

You thought about it. You had a lot of doors opened for you that you had to consider. “I’m not sure. It all depends on who I sign with.”

Taeyong nodded.

You continued, “Can you wait for me to join you?”

Taeyong was surprised. “What?”

“I want to go with you. I just need some time to get my affairs in order. End things with the agency. Move out of my apartment. Say goodbye.”

Taeyong broke out into a smile, his soulful brown eyes squinting from cheesing so hard. “Really?”

You giggled. “You looking for a roommate?”

Taeyong reached over and kissed you. It almost felt like he said “I love you”.

Honestly, he didn’t even have to say it. You just knew.

;;

Choi Sooyoung’s wedding was in Miami Beach at the Grand SeasideHotel. The ceremony took place at the beach and the festivities were in the hotel ballroom. You began your set with a father and daughter dance. Then, you continued with love songs for the couple and the standard party ones for the whole group in attendance to get on the dance floor. Your rendition of Cha Cha Slide was one no one would forget.

You looked radiant. You wore a silver dress that went down to your heels. The beads gave a subtle rainbow effect that you glowed onstage. You sang Adele’s “One and Only”. A lot of couples slow danced.

Taeyong danced with Sonya.

“Better than Adele, right Taeyong?!” She asked.

Taeyong laughed. “I believed you when you said it the first time.”

He remembered Sonya mentioned the wedding singer Samantha and Yuta hired. Yuta wasn’t the only one who raved. The minute Samantha found your YouTube channel, she started spamming Taeyong with your videos.

Your cover videos were of just your voice. You hid in the shadows to give some mystery.

Taeyong began falling in love right then and there.

And then when he saw you for the first time, it was really over for him.

Sonya ran off to find her sister and Yuta joined Taeyong to watch you belt it out.

“Hey, she’s unreal, isn’t she?” Yuta asked.

Taeyong replied. “She’s...There are no words.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t signed with a label yet,” Yuta replied.

“Y/n is thinking of joining Epic,” Taeyong adds, “It’s funny, you know. I didn’t even think to invite someone from epic.”

Yuta blurted, “I’m guilty.”

“What?” Taeyong eyed him carefully.

“I invited the Epic Records exec.”

“Oh.” Taeyong is silent. How did Yuta think to invite your dream label and he didn’t?

It turned out that Yuta snuck a peak into your lyric journal that night at Starbucks when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. He was curious to see what you’ve written. He did find a song about himself dated back 6 years ago. It was your catharsis for letting him go. But Yuta took a photo of the page and has read it over many times. He also found a page of your goals, which included possibly joining Epic Records one day. But Yuta would never admit that to Taeyong.

He wanted you to chase your dreams and achieve them. A phone call to his friends at Epic wasn’t a big deal to him. He wanted you two to be happy. He would simply hold onto the fact that at one point in time, you liked him.

“I have a friend at the label. You remember Kyla?” Yuta asked smoothly.

And with that, they resumed enjoying the party.

You performed “You’re The One That I Want” with Johnny, who went the extra mile and brought a leather jacket just for that song.

As you performed song after song, the buzz about you grew stronger and stronger, much to Samantha’s annoyance.

When you got a break, Taeyong led you to his table. He went to grab you some water and wedding cake. People passed you at the table, praising you and giving you their contact information because they wanted you at their next event.

When that was over, you took a deep breath and relaxed.

“You must be so happy.”

You froze at the sound of her serpentine voice. Samantha sat beside you.

You knew this wouldn’t go well.

“You have my half-brother wrapped around your little finger. It’s because of him, you’re on the verge of commercial success. You could have everything you want. Because of him.” She was very pointed when she said “because of him”. She wore a dark red party dress and her long nails matched. It was like she was out for blood. Yours, probably.

“Samantha,” you started.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re taking advantage of my brother.” She tapped her nails against her glass of champagne.

“Hold on just a second-“

“I wouldn’t put it past you since you never did quite get over your crush on Yuta.” Her hazel eyes turned into daggers.

You stayed silent. Waiting for her to finish her tirade before you ended her.

“I see the way you make those little first day freshman year eyes at him. It was cute, at first. Since he’s a major NBA player and one of the most influential men in the city. You were starstruck. After all, we went to high school with him. But it’s been months now. You’re dating Taeyong. He’s done nothing but shower you with the best. And what do you do? Look at my fiancé when Taeyong’s isn’t looking.”

“Are you finished?” You asked.

Samantha smirked. “For now.”

“I don’t know what gave you the impression that I was sweet on Yuta. I’ll admit seeing you two after seven years brought out old feelings. But they died when I met Taeyong. Ever since I met him, my life has been wonderful and adventurous and I feel like I’m on top of the world. Record deal or not. I’m happy where I am. Taeyong has done a lot for me and I’ll never let that go unappreciated. Is he helping me make my dreams come true? He always has. Since the first time he asked me to play something for him. Look, I haven’t told anyone this but I’ll let you be the first to hear it. I’m turning all of the labels down. Not to prove anything to you. But to prove to myself that I can make it without anyone’s help. So for you to say that I’m taking advantage of Taeyong? Well...you’re lucky to be Taeyong’s family.” Or else you wouldn’t have been courteous.

You got up from the table because you didn’t want to see Samantha’s stuck up face for at least an hour.

“Hey,” Taeyong said as he touched your arm. “Are you okay?” He noticed you looked flushed.

You nodded as you took the glass of water from Taeyong. You gulped most of it down. “My throat was getting dry but I’m good now!”

Taeyong grinned. “I can’t get enough of you, you know that? That cover of Cha Cha Slide is one for the history books.”

You rolled your eyes. “Put the cake down and dance with me.”

You two danced to Miracles Happen by Myra. Sooyoung was a big Princess Diaries fan. Taeyong spun you around and you tickled him when he least expected it. It was one of his weaknesses.

;;

Samantha didn’t realize Yuta heard what she accused you of.

“What is your problem?” Yuta asked.

“What do you mean?” Samantha snapped. “That little wedding singer has infiltrated our lives and I was just putting her in her place.”

Yuta groaned in frustration. “Leave y/n alone Sam.”

“Why are you so concerned about her? I’m trying to save my brother from getting his heart broken by that-“

Yuta dared her to finish that sentence. “I’m gonna stop you right there.”

“Why are you getting so defensive over her? Don’t tell me you still have a thing for her.” But she already knew that.

Yuta remained silent.

“Oh?” She exclaimed, egging him on.

Yuta gave her a pointed look. “Don’t give me that. It was never a secret and you knew it.”

Samantha seethed. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. She told me she loves Taeyong. And, in case you forgot, you’re marrying me. If you know what’s good for you.”

Reality sunk in even deeper for Yuta. He stormed off and hit up the open bar. He was mad he had to marry someone he didn’t love. And for what? Fame and success? An obligation to the Lees and Samantha’s biological father?

A small part of him hurt that the only girl he ever really liked was in love with someone else. That someone else being his best friend.

;;

You finished your set. You were going to meet Taeyong at the photo booth set up for the reception.

You both sat in the photobooth.

“What do you think? Duck faces?” Taeyong asked.

You knew the only answer was yes.

“Wait! I saw some more props closer to the entrance. I’ll be right back,” he said as he kissed your cheek and squeezed your cheeks. “You are so adorable. I think I can die and go to Heaven now.” He was definitely buzzed.

You laughed and then waited.

A few second later someone opened the curtain. You were shocked to see who it was.

“Yuta?” You asked him.

He was drunk out of his wits. His long hair was disheveled and at the sight of you, he ran his hands through it again.

He looked at you in adoration. “Hey.”

“Yuta, are you okay? I-“

Yuta moved in and the flashes could be heard. He kissed you sloppily. You could feel the vodka from his lips. Alarms were going off in your head. You panicked and pushed him away hard.

“Get off of me.” You said as you pushed past him out of the photobooth.

“Y/n, come back! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Yuta stayed in the photobooth, despondent.

;;

Neither you or Yuta realized that you left something very important behind at the photobooth.

But someone else did.

To Be Continued in Part 4

A/N: You thought I forgot. 😉 I had to revise one little detail in chapter 1. Y/N auditioned for Yuta and Samantha in September instead of April! Thanks for reading and especially thanks for waiting. 😭

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helenalikesbtsnow · 4 years ago

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Sleep by Helena_Hathaway (me)

Summary: Jimin interrupts him to say, “It’s not impatience, Yoongi, there’s a deadline. You’ve got until you’re twenty-one before you go to sleep for all eternity! If I don’t find the love of your life before then, we’re all fucked! Pairing: Yoonseok/Sope Words: 5k Warnings: None Links: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827596

“Royal matchmaker this, royal matchmaker that, honestly, at this point, I just feel like glorified furniture,” Jimin says.

“Hey, you know, it could be worse,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Worse than what? This was supposed to be like, a five-month gig! It was just supposed to be ‘oh find the Prince a wife and then here’s some money’ but nooo!” Jimin says, his voice sounds angry, but Yoongi knows that he isn’t really. His official title may be ‘royal matchmaker,’ but Jimin has been his friend since he showed up to town four years ago. Four years. Wow. That’s a lot of years of Yoongi rejecting every girl to cross his path.

It’s not so much rejection as Yoongi just knows they’re not the one. How could they be? He’s sure he’ll know it when the right girl turns up, but he hasn’t met her yet. He knows it’s important, because there are deadlines to consider, but it just hasn’t seemed important enough for him to start being serious about the subject.

Yoongi has Jimin lagging behind him as they stroll through the property, Yoongi assuring both his guards and Jimin that he just wanted some fresh air. He likes it out here, it’s far less stuffy than the palace, which is always a little too warm and smells old. Yoongi’s family have lived in that palace for generations, for so long that there are hundred-year-old paintings hanging up in the hallways of ancestor’s long dead who have Yoongi’s eyes.

He doesn’t have a trajectory, at least he doesn’t think he does, but he does end up somewhere very particular anyway. Yoongi always ends up in the gardens. He likes the way the flowers smell, and the way the flowers look. They’re beautifully arrayed, masterfully pieced together to show off every single color of the rainbow for at least nine months of the year. The flowers that grow in winter are more muted, but just as beautiful, and just as expertly arranged, because the garden is kept in the two most capable hands in the entire kingdom.

Yoongi bites his lip, looking at one particular bushel of flowers near to him when a familiar voice from behind him says, “those are called impatiens.”

The voice belongs to someone that Yoongi has known all his life. He turns to see him, the ever smiling, wonderful Hoseok. Yoongi has known him since they were both little kids, Hoseok’s father was a gardener to this palace long before he was born. Since childhood, Hoseok’s been his closest friend in the world, and probably the only one who doesn’t judge Yoongi for not falling in love. That’s not to say Hoseok isn’t judgmental, because he has made fun of just about everything Yoongi has ever done ever, and Yoongi has threatened to lock him up every single time he does it, but that just makes Hoseok laugh at him harder.

“Hey, Hoseok,” Yoongi smiles back at him. Hoseok’s smile is contagious, absolutely gut-punching. He’s got long, dark brown hair, and eyes the color of the earth he plants his flowers in. It's not in the job description, but Hoseok's probably the most attractive gardener in the world. “Impatience you say?”

“No, I said impatiens, not-”

Jimin interrupts him to say, “It’s not impatience, Yoongi, there’s a deadline. You’ve got until you’re twenty-one before you go to sleep for all eternity! If I don’t find the love of your life before then, we’re all fucked!”

“Why does everyone believe in that silly curse,” Yoongi groans. Truth is, Yoongi knows it’s real. Why wouldn’t it be? People have curses placed on them all the time; it’s just what life is like. But he’s trying to make people worry less about him. He’s still got eight months, it could happen. Princess charming will come waltzing in through the palace doors and Yoongi will hear a chorus of bells. You know, probably.

“We all need some time away from you,” Hoseok says, sighing, “I know I can’t wait to be rid of you for a spell.”

“Exactly!” Yoongi says, “Oh, and Hoseok, you’re fired for that comment.”

“Oh, agony,” Hoseok sighs, raising his arms up in defeat as Yoongi smiles at him. He crouches back down to work on the little patch of soil that he’d been busying at before Yoongi so rudely interrupted him. He’s preparing to put in azaleas because Yoongi said he liked them last summer.

“It’s not funny, Yoongi,” Jimin says. “You’re the only heir to the throne! What do you think happens when it all goes belly up?”

“Well, I imagine you all have a little laugh and find a proper replacement,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “Perhaps Hoseok here. He knows how to grow flowers; surely, he must also know how to manage the socioeconomic divide.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Hoseok nods overdramatically, “Read all about it in the farmer’s almanac.”

“It’s not a joke, you two!” Jimin says, sounding aggravated, “if I don’t find you a wife, you’re basically dead. And also, I don’t get paid.”

“Oh, agony,” Yoongi and Hoseok both say.

~*~*~*~

He and Yoongi are having a staring contest. Neither of them asked if they should have a staring contest, they’ve just been doing it. He supposes that that’s not terribly abnormal for the two of them. Not the staring contest in particular, they just tend to mirror each other. Yoongi blinks first, which makes Hoseok smile a silent victory.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks, though they both know that Yoongi loves Hoseok’s smile and would never complain about it. It’s the greatest smile in the kingdom, he tells him as much constantly. Yoongi is willing to die on those words.

“You know why.”

“I don’t know at all.”

“Sure, Yoongi.”

“I didn’t even know we were having a staring contest.”

“You’re the one who mentioned it,” Hoseok says.

Yoongi scrunches up his face, “damn, I fell into my own trap.”

“Dumbass,” Hoseok says, rolling his eyes.

Yoongi looks around the two of them at the grass. Hoseok had been picking flowers for the entrance hall of the palace at the time that Yoongi stole him away. As always, he’s hiding from his father. Being the future King comes with a lot of responsibilities, but sometimes Yoongi just wants to hide away with his best friend.

“What are those called, anyway?” he asks, pointing at the pink flowers in Hoseok’s hand.

“Camellia,” he responds.

“Those are my new favorite,” Yoongi declares.

“You have a new favorite every other week,” Hoseok responds. “Last week you specifically liked yellow roses.”

“Well, that’s because whichever one you pick are usually the prettiest ones.”

“Oh, how you mock me,” Hoseok says, feigning annoyance.

“Hey, that time I tried to tell you I liked dandelions you threatened to end the royal line, so I’m just trying to stay on your good side,” Yoongi laughs.

“I wish you liked any of those girls as much as you like flowers.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about this, I get enough of it from Jimin,” Yoongi groans. He’s already met with two girls this afternoon, and he’s worried if he goes back to the castle, there will be a long line of more. He didn’t know that there were that many people in existence. There’s at least a few who have snuck in a few times and think that he doesn’t recognize them. Perhaps there are more who have snuck in that Yoongi genuinely hasn’t recognized.

“You’re running out of time,” Hoseok says.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll meet someone; we’ve still got like six months! It’ll sort itself out.”

“You need to try harder,” Hoseok scolds. “You’re not giving them enough of a chance, dumbass.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t fall in love with someone who’s not my one true love, that’s not exactly going to cut it, is it? The person who kisses me to wake me up has to literally be my soulmate. I’m not saying the curse is real, because that is some bullshit, but if it were real, it’s not going to go away by me wanting to fall in love. My soulmate is out there somewhere, I just have to meet her,” Yoongi says. “Oh, and by the way, for that comment, it’ll be a flogging.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Hoseok says.

~*~*~*~

“Who the fuck would ever want to fall in love with you?” Hoseok says, incredulous. He rarely ever gets to actually witness Yoongi when Jimin’s in the midst of matchmaking, but honestly, if that’s how Yoongi acts with every girl, then it’s no surprise he doesn’t have a one true love. There’s probably no girl out there at all in the whole world who would ever fall in love with Yoongi. He’s a jackass.

“What can I say,” Yoongi shrugs.

“You’re a jackass,” Hoseok tells him, because he’s not one for holding his tongue.

“Hoseok!” Jimin says emphatically.

“I’ve called him worse than that when I’m not annoyed with him,” Hoseok says with a shrug.

“Still,” Jimin says. “Be easy on him, it’s not some small task, all of this meeting and greeting and trying to establish a connection with so little time to do it.” Hoseok is low key not sure what Jimin actually does. He used to know what Jimin did. Back in the day, four and a half years ago, Jimin used to pair Yoongi up with girls who fit a certain mold. He screened the girls before they made it to the ultimate rejection that Yoongi gave them. These days, literally any girl above a certain age is allowed to “try out.” Nowadays, it seems like all Jimin does is watch and make sure that Yoongi isn’t purposefully rude or shitty to them.

In all fairness, Yoongi isn’t actually mean to the girls. He just isn’t very opening, not the way he is with Hoseok at least. He can say or do anything he likes to Hoseok, and they’ll roll the joke around for a few weeks like it's nothing. He can’t fathom why none of these girls know how to establish a connection with Yoongi, when he’s so pathetically easy to understand, or maybe that’s just how Hoseok views him. He’s very simple. He’s also stupid as shit, and Hoseok tells him as such.

“You’re stupid as shit.”

“I don’t see you falling in love with anyone!” Yoongi says.

“That’s because I’m not going to go to sleep for all of eternity in less than a month!” Hoseok bites back at him.

“You two have a dichotomy I’ll never understand. If only there was a girl in this world who was as dumb as the two of you, maybe I could get Yoongi to fall in love with her,” Jimin says, almost to himself.

“Fuck you,” Yoongi says. Jimin is a very good friend of Yoongi’s, honestly and genuinely, but literally no one in the entire ingdom lets a ‘fuck you’ from the Prince roll of their back besides Hoseok. Jimin knows it’s a joke, but he’s still a little shaken by it.

Hoseok narrows his eyes indignantly at Yoongi, “I bet whoever your soulmate is she is as ugly as you are, and twice as annoying.”

“That’s a hanging for you,” Yoongi says.

Hoseok makes a very loud, aggravated sound and storms out of the room. He’s not sure why he’s angry. He didn’t used to get angry at Yoongi for turning girls down. He used to let it be a joke. Because that’s all it was when they were both seventeen and this matchmaking all started out. He laughed off the idea of his best friend in the world, the boy he knew since before he had the mental fortitude to understand what royalty was, falling in love. Now he’s becoming increasingly distressed. If Yoongi doesn’t find her in less than thirty days, he’s done for. The stupid motherfucker, he’s most definitely met her and rejected her already, because he’s too dumb for this world.

But god, if Yoongi goes to sleep forever, Hoseok’s life will screech to a halt. He’ll just stop caring about everything. Yoongi is his best goddamn friend in the world, and without him, not even his flowers will be enough color to populate the darkness that will fill him.

~*~*~*~

“What do you think is going to happen tonight?” Hoseok asks. It’s fully starting to sink in now that he’s going to wake up tomorrow and Yoongi won’t. Tonight is the night of “the big sleep,” as Yoongi has dubbed it. Yoongi is literally the only person in the entire kingdom not taking it seriously. He can’t honestly believe that the curse was fake, can he? An evil witch doesn’t show up on your doorstep to curse you to fall asleep when you touch a spindle just as a party trick. That’s clearly a curse. Yoongi is going to as good as die tonight, because the obstinate little shit couldn’t fall in love with the twenty-one years he was given to do it in. Just meet one girl and love her. That’s all he had to do.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Yoongi says, laughing. Hoseok pushes him in the shoulder, angrily, because he is angry. Yoongi is not taking this seriously. For him, he’s just going to be asleep, he won’t know how bad it gets, but for everyone else around him… that’s the end. He’s going to be gone, for just about forever. Maybe he will still be alive, breathing, sleeping, but he’ll be dead to everyone else. All because Yoongi couldn’t find his one true love who will kiss him and bring him back to life.

“That’s not funny!”

“You used to think it was,” Yoongi says.

“That was before it was, like, real,” Hoseok says. He should feel guilty, he supposes. He knew this was coming, but he kind of just assumed that everything would sort itself out. Yoongi is the most charming, wonderful, beautiful person in the entire world. How is it possible that any girl could help falling in love with him? He knows he’s said and thought the contrary about the Prince, but he never really meant it. Clearly, it’s Yoongi’s fault. Every girl is ready and willing to bring him back to life, but Yoongi’s picky. He needs to find his one true love, and even though it seems as though every eligible woman in this kingdom – and all the girls from here to three kingdoms over – have tried to offer themselves to him, he somehow hasn’t found ‘the one.’ Hoseok suspects that he probably has found the one, but he joked her away.

“It’s always been real, Seok,” he says, and for the first time probably in either of their lives, Yoongi is looking directly into Hoseok’s eyes with the solemn understanding of what is going to happen. Yes, Yoongi is going to ‘die’ tonight. Yes, his best friend in the entire world is going to have to look at Yoongi’s lifeless, sleeping body for the rest of his own natural life, unless a miracle strikes and Jimin is able to matchmake him while he’s unconscious. Yes, Hoseok will be heartbroken, and the reputation that Yoongi has bestowed upon him for having the brightest smile in the kingdom will be lost as soon as Yoongi’s eyes close.

“I hate you,” Hoseok says shaking his head. He wants to hug Yoongi, but he knows that it’s not seemly for the help to be so informal with royalty. Everyone in the palace knows that Hoseok and Yoongi are as close as two friends can possibly be, but that doesn’t change Hoseok’s status. Usually, he would disregard that rule, but everyone is on high alert because of the curse, which isn’t actually supposed to take effect until midnight tonight. Only a few more hours left with his best friend in the whole world.

At the very beginning of the desperate search for a match, Jimin had been ordered to only set Yoongi up with royals and girls from various noble families. When it was clear that wasn’t turning anything up, they started allowing anyone to vie for his hand. Now, they’ve reached a standstill. New women showing up by the hour with a prayer and a hope that they could be the long-lost Princess of Yoongi’s dreams. None of them have been.

“No you don’t,” Yoongi says, his smile doesn’t quite reach the sadness in his eyes. Hoseok realizes that Yoongi might have been joking about the curse all this time as a defense mechanism. He knows what’s going to happen. He’s always known. The only way to live with the fear of it has been to pretend he doesn’t care, but he does care. He’s absolutely terrified.

“I’m never going to forgive you for going to sleep,”

“Yeah, alright.”

Hoseok just crosses his arms and shakes his head. He glares out the window. It’s starting to become warm again, he’s gearing up to start fostering the spring flowers. Yoongi always says that he likes the bright, colorful ones, but Hoseok knows that the winter ones mean a little something more to him. The winter Jasmine in his room now is a welcome cut of white and yellow into the sullen darkness that his bedroom becomes when the moon rises earlier in the sky for months on end.

For spring this year, Hoseok has decided to grow a few different colors of lilies along with Yoongi's classic favorites. He can't wait until they bring warmth into Yoongi's room. The room might need it since Yoongi won't be awake to warm the room itself.

“You’re going to take care of things around here, aren’t you?” Yoongi asks, and Hoseok looks almost offended by him saying that. “Not just the flowers. You’ve got to keep that big smile of yours. My father adores you; you know. He might be all chivalrous and try to hide it because of his, I don’t know, pretense of masculinity in being King, but like, he’s always liked you. You were my best friend even as a kid. He’s going to need you to help him get by.”

“I hate all of this. I won’t let you fall asleep. You can’t prick your finger if I chop off both of your hands.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

~*~*~*~

No one is entirely sure where the spindle had even come from. There had been four guards on the door, four at the windows, two stood inside Yoongi’s bedroom, and just about every member of the kingdom standing guard outside the palace doors in support of their beloved Prince. There had not been a spindle in that room an hour before midnight, but once midnight struck, there it was.

Hoseok knows it’s the curse, he knows it’s not Yoongi’s fault, but that’s not going to stop him from blaming Yoongi for touching that goddamn spindle anyway. All he had to do was keep his hands to himself, but he couldn’t do that. The idiot.

The knight’s scream could be heard maybe not just through the entire palace, but perhaps through the entire kingdom. Hoseok had already been banished to the entrance hall when that scream pierced, and then the shouting, the running, the crying. He hadn’t been scared, sad, in disbelief, angry, or anything at all really. He had just been numb. He knew what had happened. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel.

That was six months ago.

It didn't rain this summer and it hasn’t snowed yet this winter, and the people of the kingdom believe it never will until Yoongi wakes up. The air and sky have been entirely dry for too long. Some of the officials are saying that if they don’t receive some sort of precipitation in the next few weeks, they’ll be looking at a full-fledged drought come spring. Maybe it’s what a kingdom without Yoongi deserves. A land without water is a land not worth living in, just as a land without Yoongi bares no real purpose either.

Hoseok watches, waits, sitting on the steps of the front entrance to the palace, watching a girl that has surely already tried to throw Yoongi her love, walks up the stairs to try her luck again. Every girl who had once bid themselves away to be loved by Yoongi has now returned to place one kiss on the cheek of the sleeping Prince. Hoseok runs the little bouquet of sweet alyssum through his fingers, thinking about how Yoongi would stop to smell them before asking Hoseok to cover his room with the stuff. Yoongi always loved Hoseok’s flowers more than anyone else. He doesn’t even think anyone would have noticed they still had a gardener if it weren’t for Yoongi insisting that every room hold a testament to Hoseok’s hard work.

Any minute now, that girl will come rushing back out the castle steps crying because it’s not her; she isn’t the Prince’s one true love. How important does she think she is to think she could ever be good enough for his Prince?

Jimin guides the girl in with a gentle nod of his head. He’s still hoping that one of these girls will be the one, which is stupid, because Hoseok knows that she’s never coming. Yoongi would have noticed her, surely. He’s the smartest man Hoseok’s ever known, of course Yoongi would know her when he saw her.

It’s dreadful to say that Hoseok’s given up, but he has. He knows Yoongi too well to think that a girl he’s never met could ever be his one true love. Maybe one of these girls really was meant to be for him, but a kiss wouldn’t work if Yoongi didn’t know he loved her first. That’s the kind of person he was.

Was.

Yoongi is now a was. He’s no longer an is. He’s a was.

Pretty soon, they’re going to stop allowing Hoseok to tend the garden. If water becomes scarce, they won’t have any to waste on some measly flowers. He’s not going to let that happen. Hoseok will trek to the nearest lake, river, or ocean every single day without sleep in order to get the water to grow Yoongi’s favorite flowers. Because, what if, by some unimageable miracle, Yoongi wakes up and there are no flowers to greet him?

Hoseok stays seated on these steps, watching his breath form a white cloud every time he exhales, but he doesn’t feel the cold. He doesn’t feel much of anything. Maybe he never will again.

She comes running out of the steps only a few minutes later, with her hands to her eyes, as soft sobs run through her, sobs that don’t even rip out of her like they should, like the ones that put Hoseok to sleep every night. Her tears are vapid. She’s not the one. That’s not why you should be crying for Yoongi. Cry because he is the most amazing man in all the kingdoms, and cry because he can’t ever wake up.

~*~*~*~

He’s just received the news. As much as the King would like for Hoseok to stay on at the palace, it would simply be irresponsible for a kingdom in drought to waste so much water on the flowers. Hoseok had known it was coming. He refuses to accept it, though. He puts the pink azaleas into the vase beside Yoongi’s bed, worrying that these are the last offering he’ll be able to give to Yoongi. He’s going to find a way to keep the flowers growing. At least enough to keep filling the room. He hopes.

Hoseok knows it’s unrealistic. He’ll be in a lot of trouble if he starts literally draining a precious resource. But it breaks his heart in two to think about the sadness that would be in Yoongi’s face were the flowers to stop growing.

It’s been almost exactly one year since he went to sleep. What should have been winter has come and gone. It was blisteringly cold, but there was no snow. Instead, everything had frozen up, the entire kingdom a dry, helpless place. Few girls were able to trek their way to the palace to offer up their love to the Prince, but it’s not like it would matter.

Hoseok sighs, and sits himself on the bed right next to Yoongi. His sleeping face is devastatingly handsome, but more than that, it’s just devastating. Hoseok has not been as frequent a visitor to his room as one would expect, because he’s been far too sad to see him. He only comes in to change out the flowers once they begin to fray and wilt.

It’s a Sunday, so they aren’t taking visitors, which means Yoongi will be all by himself until tomorrow when he’s sure more girls who think they’re the one find out that they’ve been kidding themselves.

Hoseok looks at his soft face. Yoongi is so pale; he hasn’t seen the sun in a year. He doesn’t look any thinner than he did when he went to sleep, so that might be part of the magic. His cheeks don’t have any color to them, but you can sit and watch his chest rise and fall. Hoseok puts a hand on his chest just to feel it. He needs to know Yoongi is still breathing, even if it doesn’t really matter anyhow.

His skin isn’t warm, in fact, even through his shirt, Hoseok can feel that he’s cold. The only indicator that this man is still alive is the feel of his chest, which Hoseok savors.

Why is it better that he’s alive, never to be awoken than it would be if he were dead? Is that what that old crone had wanted to do in the first place when she cursed him? She wanted the entire kingdom to have hope, because hope keeps you thinking something good might happen. But really, that witch never intended for this story to have a happy ending. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t actually have a true love at all. Maybe that’s the game. That Yoongi is unlovable. She gave everyone a hope that the curse could be broken as long as he finds his true love, but she doesn’t exist.

Hoseok had thought that the tears were behind him, but he catches a loud harsh sob in his throat, which physically pains him. He puts his head into his hands and leans away from Yoongi so that he can cry into them. And he cries and cries and cries. For an hour, maybe two, Hoseok just cries next to Yoongi. Every few minutes, there will be a minute of pause where he stops, thinks that they’ve subsided, but then, the tears come back even harder. He can’t afford to waste his tears because they tend to dehydrate him, and that’s the worst thing to happen in a drought. But he just can’t help himself.

“This is all your fucking fault, you piece of shit,” Hoseok says to Yoongi, turning to again look at his stupidly attractive face. No one has the right to look that beautiful, least of all not a man who’s as good as dead.

“You couldn’t just fall in love and be happy. No, you had to be a picky son of a bitch.” Hoseok prods at his shoulder, like he would if he were waiting for Yoongi to respond to him, which he doesn’t do.

“You’re still picky. Girls are traipsing through here every damn day, and you just sit there like a pathetic little fucker. They come in here and they kiss you, and you just lie there, because you’re stupid,” Hoseok tells him. He puts his hand in Yoongi’s hair, he doesn’t know why, he just wants to. His hair is still soft, as if he had washed it just yesterday. He doesn’t have any real bodily functions, doesn’t need to eat or piss, so he’s literally as perfect as the day he went to bed, his twenty-first birthday. “They kiss your stupid fucking face, when they’re not in love with you, while the people who really do love you have to just look at you all the time and know you’re never coming back.”

Why won’t Yoongi listen to him? Why won’t he wake up so that he can threaten to put Hoseok in the stocks? Why doesn’t Yoongi wake up to tell him to smile like he always used to? Why doesn’t Yoongi just wake up?

No one has called him Seok in a year. No one has told Hoseok how pretty his flowers are, or at least, no one has meant it the way Yoongi always did. No one has even really made a joke in Hoseok’s direction at all. No one in the kingdom jokes, smiles, or laughs anymore, not with Yoongi in this state, but especially not Hoseok. It’s very clear that Hoseok has taken it worse than anyone else. Not even Yoongi’s own father, the King, has a comprehension of the pain Hoseok feels when he looks upon his best friend.

“Fuck you, Yoongi. You know that I care about you, don’t you, dumbass? I care about you more than anyone in the world does. More than Jimin, more than your dad, more than literally anyone. Why don’t you wake up for me?” Hoseok says, and maybe just to prove a point he kisses Yoongi’s cheek like all those girls have done. “Wake up for me, you stupid fucking shit.”

Hoseok starts crying again, practically draping himself over Yoongi’s body as he cries right against his chest, wishing that Yoongi’s warmth could seep into him and make him feel a little less alone.

…his warmth?

“It’s going to be the gallows for that sort of language.” The voice is very soft and croaky, from months and months of disuse. Hoseok’s crying halts, almost like someone has strangled him. He lifts himself up, hair in his own face, so he has to brush it aside so that he can meet those big brown eyes.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok’s voice sounds so soft that he’s not sure if it's even audible.

“You’re my one true love, aren’t you?” Yoongi asks, looking very soft and sleepy. He barely even looks awake, which isn’t fair considering how much sleep he fucking got.

“I absolutely fucking am not,” Hoseok says, something like repulsion in his voice.

Yoongi uses a very sleepy hand to pull Hoseok’s face to his and this time, though Hoseok could not tell you at all how it comes to be so, his lips meet Yoongi’s own lips. Hoseok’s never kissed anyone before, so he supposes it’s possible that all kisses feel as perfect as this one, but he thinks it’s pretty unlikely.

“Oh yeah,” Yoongi says when his smiling breaks the kiss, “I think you fucking are.”

“I am not,” Hoseok says, being the one to kiss Yoongi this time. He doesn’t know what emotions he’s feeling right now. He’s feeling a lot of them. All of the emotions. Every last one. Rage, passion, sorrow, pride, happiness. Everything.

“Those flowers are very pretty,” Yoongi says.

“Fuck you,” Hoseok responds. Yoongi has sat up in bed, when did that happen? Neither of them knows. Hoseok is still kissing him; Yoongi is kissing him back. Softly, then angrily, because Hoseok is furious with this piece of shit who had the nerve to go and fall in love with him. This absolute motherfucker, who would dare be Hoseok’s one true love. Of course he’s not going to fall in love with a girl, they should’ve both realized no one else but him could be the one. Why didn't this stupid dipshit realize that they were made for each other before he went to sleep? If he had, Hoseok would have been saved from a lot of sadness and turmoil. Absolute piss for brains.

A voice comes screaming down the halls, a voice that comes from Jimin. “It’s raining, Hoseok, fuck, ow, stubbed my toe. Hoseok, it’s raining, it’s actually raining!” There’s a lot of thudding before the door is whacked open by an overly excited Jimin who’s here to tell Hoseok what will probably the only good news for the rest of their shared lifetimes.

Yoongi and Hoseok only pull away because they can sense something important is happening, though neither of them have a clue what Jimin had just been screaming about, or why it could ever be important in comparison to them kissing each other.

“What the fuck?” Jimin says, as he’s stood in the doorway looking at a very much conscious Prince.

“Have I missed much?” Yoongi smiles widely, and god, it’s that look, those pretty teeth bared, on that pretty face that finally allows what Yoongi has dubbed the brightest smile in the entire kingdom to return to Hoseok’s face.

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hystericalweenie · 5 years ago

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Just Another Day at the Office Series - The Sexperiment

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Two: Quickies, Surprises, and Nostalgia

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n is doing better than ever; she’s finally in a relationship with the man she’s been constantly thinking about, she has some great friends, and she’s thriving at her dream job. Except, there’s one problem: being in a relationship with one of your coworkers can get really steamy, and can cause a lot of sexual frustration. Her new pitch idea may solve exactly that problem, but will George be okay with it?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! **“The Sexperiment” is inspired by an actual Cosmopolitan article (here’s the link!)

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s NSFW content..aka smut. You have been warned.

After eating some cold ratatouille and ignoring some of George’s suspicious stares, I woke up the next morning–limping to the shower due to how sore my legs still were–with much more excitement. I had ordered many sets of lingerie, all different styles, colors, and fabrics, after coming home from George’s and paid an absurd amount, nearly giving myself heart palpitations after having to pay extra for next-day shipping. My package was set to arrive some time within the afternoon, so I settled on a sexy black balconette bra and matching panties, a simple set I’d worn for George in the past.

I wore a flowy sundress that day, showing some slight cleavage to excite George. I slipped a pair of brown wedges onto my feet, noticing that it complimented the dress. I smiled in satisfaction at my reflection before getting into my work and beginning the commute. The soft sounds from the radio, with short interferences from the radio hosts, I was relaxed from the stresses of the horrendous New York traffic.

With a sigh of relief at the sight of the Essence building, I pulled into the parking lot, noticing I had gotten there much earlier than usual. With very few cars scattered across the wide parking lot, I shrugged as I made my way toward the tall building, my wedges clacking against the cement.

“You’re here early.”

I jumped, the accent too familiar to my ears as I turned my head to see my lover, looking perfect as always. He wore a navy button-up and slacks, the deep blue of his shirt making his eyes resemble the ocean. His loose, sandy waves took perfect form on his head, making me want to rake my fingers through them. I noticed his eyes trail down from my face, stilling on my chest, before examining the remainder of my outfit.

“You look stunning, Y/n,” he breathed, a smile making its way onto his plump lips.

I chewed on my lip, biting back a smile of my own as I fought the urge to run my hands through his hair.

“You look dapper yourself, George,” I complimented, taking one more glance at his figure. My eyes went wide when I noticed the sudden bulge in his pants.

He looked down, noticing my stare, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“You want me to help you out?” I whispered, my eyes moving back up to his face, awaiting his answer.

He nodded, looking around quickly at the two coworkers who walked past us, into the building.

“I left some files for you in my car, Y/n,” he announced, slightly stuttering before we began speed-walking towards his vehicle.

“Files?” I whispered, giggling. “George, everything’s electronic.”

He rolled his eyes, as we reached his car. Thankfully, he’d been parked in the back of the parking lot, away from the few cars that were there. Looking around one more time, he quickly unlocked the vehicle, as we both piled into the front seats. He turned to me, a frantic expression on his face.

“How should we do this?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in distress.

I took a minute to come up with multiples of possible positions. Once I settled on one, I smirked at him, reaching for the lever on the side of the seat and pulled until the back of my seat was entirely down. He grinned, climbing on top of me and engulfing my lips with his own. He rested his elbows on each side of my head as our lips moved against each other, tongues touching every now and then. He shifted his weight onto one elbow, the other hand moving down my figure, slipping up my dress. My legs parted in response to his touch, as his fingers trailed toward my panties, pushing them aside quickly and running the pad of his finger through my folds.

I moaned against his lips at the contact, before he pulled his finger away, lips parting from mine.

“We don’t have much time,” he apologized.

I nodded, wrapping my legs around his waist as he got up on his knees, unzipping his slacks and pulling his member out of his boxers. He quickly spat in his hand before jerking himself off a few times as I watched him in awe, my legs trembling at the sight. He then lined himself up at my entrance and pushed inside of me, laying himself back on top of me and returning his lips to mine. My lips moved sweetly against his whilst he entered the entirety of his length into me slowly, giving me a moment to adjust. After a moment of getting used to his length stretching my walls, I pushed my hips against him, letting him know to move.

Instead of his usual slow beginning rhythm, he thrusted into me with much more might, much more vigor as our lips began to move sloppily against one another’s. My stomach began to knot and my eyes became half-lidded as my hips bucked to meet his, desperate for a release. We watched each other, examined each other’s fucked-out expressions as we chased our orgasms, his thrusts becoming quicker and deeper. He moved a hand between us, rubbing sloppy circles around my sensitive bud, still remaining eye contact with me in search of a reaction.

My jaw went slack at the stimulations, my legs shaking and my eyes closing as I reached my climax, a string of “George”’s leaving my lips as I felt him reach his own inside of me. He collapsed onto me, his head falling into the crook of my neck as we attempted to regain our breaths. Our chests heaved against each other’s, slowly relaxing into one another as we recovered. His lips began pressing soft kisses against my neck, slowly moving up to my lips. Moving from my lips, he peppered my face with kisses, making me smile at the sweet gesture.

Pecking the tip of my nose and giving me one last concluding kiss on my lips, he smiled down at me, moving stray hairs out of my face whilst his eyes examined all of my features. It felt like ecstasy, watching him fall in love with me in front of my very own eyes.

“I think I’m falling in love with him,” I admitted wholeheartedly.

Bree paused her show, turning her head to look at me, her other hand lazily holding a glass of red wine. Her bushy eyebrows rose and her big, hazel eyes widened.

“You’re certain?” she interrogated, her voice filled with caution.

I nodded. “I’m pretty damn certain, Bree,” I assured her, moving in her direction and taking a seat beside her on the sofa.

She breathed out a laugh of shock, her lips spreading over her perfect smile.

“I’m really happy for you, Y/n,” she confessed, setting her wine on the coffee table to free her hands, grasping them within her own and boring her sincere eyes into mine. “I never thought I’d see the day where you finally moved on, and found someone healthy and good for you.”

My eyes softened at her confession as I squeezed her hands gently.

“Me too,” I answered truthfully.

She pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, but I didn’t mind. I was glad that she was so happy for me; although I didn’t want to admit it, her validation meant a lot to me at times, it assured me that what I was doing was right. She leaned into me and resumed her show whilst we lay on the couch together, basking in the love we shared for one another.

“I met someone on Tinder,” she spoke up.

My fingers played with the honey blond locks of her hair.

“Oh, yeah?” I asked, not paying much mind as my eyes were fixed on the screen in front of us,

She lifted her head up to look at me, her eyes wary.

“It’s a girl,” she admitted, a nervous blush painting her cheeks.

I shrugged.

“So?”

She moved her head back down to rest on my lap and I swore I could have felt her smile.

“She’s beautiful, and she’s really funny,” she explained, “and she works for the same company that you do.”

My fingers paused against her scalp, curiosity getting the best of me.

“She works at Essence?”

She nodded against my lap.

“Do you have any photos of her?”

She nodded once more, sitting up from my lap and grabbing her phone from the coffee table. After a few swipes and taps against her screen, she handed me the device, which had the mystery girl’s Tinder profile set up on the screen. My eyes widened at the ginger haired girl staring back at me in the photos.

Faith.

“Holy shit, I know her!” I exclaimed in disbelief.

“You do?” she asked, eyes widening in shock.

I nodded vigorously, handing the device back to her.

“She dated George for a few months when she was still closeted,” I explained. “She’s also a journalist and she’s fucking amazing.”

She blushed, staring at the photos of the girl as I went on about her.

“We should all go out and do something,” I suggested.

Her eyes peeled away to look at me, a look of admiration taking over her features.

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t that be awkward for them?”

I shook my head.

“No, they’re still friends,” I explained with a shrug.

She tossed her phone back onto the coffee table with a groan, resting her head back onto my lap.

“God, I forgot what dating someone is like,” she whined, turning her head to look up at me whilst my fingers returned back to her blond waves. “Will you help me with her?”

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Of course,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “That’s what best friends are for.”

She grinned at me, eyes closing as I stroked the soft strands that cascaded around her head onto my lap. The quiet television soothed both of us as we began to think to ourselves silently; I was thinking about George and she’d most likely been thinking about Faith.

10:07 pm, Me: You’ll never guess who my roommate is talking to.

10:09 pm, George: Who?

10:10 pm, Me: Faith!

10:11 pm, George: Are you serious? Small world, huh?

10:11 pm, George: We should all do something, maybe it’ll break the ice for them

10:13 pm, Me: I suggested the same thing, maybe with Dean too though he might end up fifth-wheeling lol

10:13 pm, Me: How’s your friend Andrew?

10:14 pm, George: He’s doing really well. A lot better than Dean and I thought, actually. Maybe you can come with us to meet him sometime.

10:15 pm, Me: I’d absolutely love that, George

10:16 pm, George: I talk to him about you every time I go

10:16 pm, George: In my defense, he always asks

My cheeks turned crimson.

10:17 pm, Me: You are so fucking adorable

10:17 pm, Me: I’d love to meet him

10:18 pm, George: He’s been wanting to meet you. Maybe sometime this week you can go there with us?

10:19 pm, Me: That sounds great.

The next day, I wore a simple pair of mismatched bra and panties, hoping that I’d be able to wear my planned lacy royal blue slip at his apartment later. In a loose skirt and a matching sweater, I made my way to my work, typing as soon as my bum had hit my chair.

Dean and I began a conversation about the distinct difference between British and American desserts, and how he'd never learn to understand how Americans find the Twinkie so delicious. I told him that as an adult, I felt that the taste of them had changed since I was a child; he suggested that my tastebuds had matured. He told me of the desserts he’d had during his childhood, and how they were much more proper than the ones most kids in America have.

“I wasn’t much of a boxed-dessert kind of child, though, to be honest,” I informed him, resting my chin in the palm of my hand. “My mother made most of the desserts from scratch with the fruits from our garden.”

“A lot of pies, then?” he queried, his dark, brunette eyebrows furrowing.

I nodded with a smile. “A lot of pies,” I agreed, sadly reminiscing on the memories that flowed into my head.

George came over to our desks not too long after our nostalgic conversation, meeting us at lunchtime, which had been our usual routine after we’d started officially dating. He stood by my desk, resting his arms on the table and towering over my seated self. I exited out of my document quickly, hoping that he wouldn’t see any evidence of the experiment. With furrowed eyebrows, most likely of suspicion, I distracted him with my touch, trailing my hand up his arm. His sleeves were rolled up, as always, as I felt the raised veins against my fingertips. He grabbed my hand, pressing a firm kiss to my knuckles before holding it in his own.

Dean cleared his throat with a roll of his eyes at our intimacy.

“Stop fuckin’ each other with your eyes,” he groaned, grabbing his coat.

I giggled, standing up and grabbing my own jacket from the back of my chair.

“I was wondering if you’d like to visit Andrew with Dean and I after work today,” George spoke, returning his hand in mine as the three of us made our way to the elevator.

“Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?” I asked worriedly, looking into his blue eyes with my own concern.

He shook his head, a reassuring smile on his lips.

“I promise.”

“Yeah,” Dean spoke up beside us as we piled into the small elevator. “Andrew’s been dying to see if you’re as hot as George described.”

George rolled his eyes, playfully smacking his arm whilst the doors closed.

The two began bickering, and I found myself smiling. Watching the two people I’d adored most at my work, awaiting the usual restaurant down the block we went to everyday, it made me realize how thankful I was. I was thankful that I had an amazing boyfriend, someone who I’d been attracted to since my first day on the job, and I was thankful for my friend, someone I talked to every single day whom sat across from me.

I ignored the thought that reminded me the inevitability of George finding out about the experiment I was conducting. I didn’t want to think about that, even though I knew deep down I had to tell him soon.

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #George Mackay smut #x reader #x reader fic #fanfic #1917 #1917 cast

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alixsgardenofnope · 4 years ago

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What The Music Does: To You, To Me

I did some more writing, because I felt like it, and it’s a good way to waste time while I wait around for a delivery.

[Warnings moving ahead: Kind of sad/ominous undertones, brief depiction of a mild panic attack.]

With this in mind, please proceed at your own discretion.

. . . . .

If Havve still had a normal stomach, he might have felt the dread pooling in the pit of it as the navigation system chimes and a robotic voice announces their arrival in the atmosphere of MC-473. The planet is small and devoid of intelligent lifeforms, so far as the scanners can tell, but they’ve been wrong before, and MC-473 has a habit of doling out unwanted surprises, looking away from the computer screens, Havve’s gaze land on Sung, only to find himself locking eyes with the other before both stiffly, and awkwardly turn away.

Sung remembers this place, too, then.

Havve shakes his head to clear his mind and returns to his work.

As they descend as quickly, and carefully, as they can manage, Havve hears a sharp inhale of breath to his right and instinctively snaps his head in that direction, seeing Phobos, golden eyes wide open, as he stares, unblinking, out the observation window at the planet’s surface below. It’s hard to tell from this distance if the sound is one of shock or amaze.

MC-473 is arguably a very pretty world, a many colored canvas of strange yet beautiful plantlife, littered with massive crystal structures that catch the light of the sun in just the right way to paint the afternoon sky a soft pink, making everything glitter and shine. Looking at it now, Havve can see why researchers had come here the first time; the brightness and sparkle of it all must have seemed promising back then, but looking at all the abandoned labs and abandoned mining equipment, it’s obvious all this accursed place is is a giant, glimmering lie, and a beacon of false hope.

It takes around two hours after they land for the group to exit the ship, though Havve would rather not leave at all, having to stick to protocol and make sure everything is secure and in place before getting feet on the ground. Looking around at the rest of the group, Havve has to tap his hand on the window to draw Phobos away from it, watching the man startle slightly as he looks up at him.

Tentatively, Havve signs to him, “Are you feeling sick?”, furrowing his brow as much as his face will allow.

Phobos shakes his head, adjusting the collar around his neck, fiddling with a button on the side before replying with a clipped, “All good.”

When had he turned his translator off? Why was it off? Havve pats the smaller man’s shoulder, nodding to him before signing loosely, “Ten minutes.”

Phobos hums, hand still pressed to the collar, twisting it side to side.

‘He’s fidgeting.’ Havve sighs internally, ‘Something is wrong here. I’ll have to keep an eye on him.’

As they make their way across the landing platform, Sung is busy chatting with Meouch, who had been quieter than usual upon arrival, much like Phobos had been, but it’s a different kind of quiet, almost remorseful in a way, but when he looks over to their friend, his face doesn’t show even the slightest hint of sadness or guilt.

‘Am I projecting his feelings onto others again?’ Havve wonders, scanning the nearby outbuildings for any signs of life, and then rescanning them as they walk away. Nothing.

‘There’s nothing here, thank the stars.’

Just as he lets his shoulders drop, the tension leaving his body, he feels something press against his back and startles, twisting around at light speed, hand already reaching for the gun on his hip, but he freezes when he sees Phobos’ head hanging there.

“I can’t...” Phobos wheezes, “I can’t...”

Havve turns back to call out to the others, but they’re already out of range, examining a bent over and rusty looking radio tower, and something tells him that drawing more attention to whatever is wrong with their companion might just make it worse.

Carefully, Havve shifts, looking back at Phobos once more before turning around to face him head on, hand shakily reaching out towards him before dropping back down to his side. No, he shouldn’t touch him, it’s like when Sung has one of his bad days, touching isn’t a good idea, he has to...

Lowering the volume on his mask, Havve makes lets out a little cough, drawing Phobos’ attention up to him, Havve winces as he sees Phobos’ eyes through his visor; they have a noticeable darkness to them. Physically, Phobos is very much in front of him right now, but mentally he’s somewhere else.

Although it’s definitely not the best decision in the world, Havve claps his hands together, making Phobos jump slightly, and watches as his vision clears.

“Havve...?”

He nods.

Phobos looks around them, “Meouch and Sung...?”

Havve gestures ahead of them, thankfully the others are still examining the radio tower, discussing something quietly between one another, he signs, “Sick?”

There’s a pause as Phobos reaches a hand up to his neck again before lowering it, raising the other and moving them both inward, palms facing his chest, “Afraid.” he replies with his hands.

Havve’s lip twitches, “Why are you afraid?” he asks, watching as Phobos flexes his fingers.

“Familiar.” is all he says before a cheerful voice breaks the silence.

“Hey, ya nerds, pick up the pace, we have a rover to collect!” Sung calls out, waving at them enthusiastically, “If you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna go explore this unfamiliar and dangerous planet without you and get eaten by a lizard monster or something~!”

Havve wants to tell him there aren’t any lizard monsters on MC-473, but honestly he doesn’t know what could be living on this godforsaken rock nowadays, so he stays quiet, looking to Phobos, “Are you alright with going further?”

Phobos kicks a loose rock with his foot before placing his hands on his hips and nodding determinedly, “I’d rather march into potential danger with friends than be alone right now.” he admits.

Havve nods, but then signs between them so the others can’t see, “Tell me if you need to return to the ship and I will go with you.”

As they continue their journey across MC-473, with Sung leading the way, chirping out a random tune in a language that Havve recognizes but no longer understands, Phobos remains a bit out of it, but is less noticeably distracted as he joins in with the peculiar song their leader is singing.

“Whatcha guys singing?” Meouch asks after they reach the third or fourth verse, “It’s starting to get a bit creepy.”

“I don’t know!” Sung laughs, “Or more like, don’t remember~!”

“What?” the cat frowns, “Then why...?” he gestures vaguely, looking to Havve, who merely shrugs.

“More to the point, how do both of you know it?”

Phobos, who is still dully humming the song, pauses and looks up at one of the large crystals piercing the ground, gliding a hand across it thoughtfully, “It’s... It’s hard to explain. I just... know it? Not here-” he taps the side of his helmet, “-but here.” he hits his chest lightly.

Sung nods, folding his arms, “It’s just there.”

“Well, can you stop?” Meouch asks, voice wobbling slightly, “The lyrics are ominous as hell.”

Havve tenses, ‘Meouch can understand it?’

“Really?” Phobos muses aloud, “I think it’s kind of comforting in my opinion.”

Sung nods in agreement with Phobos, the two looking at each other with some weird sense of understanding, before they ultimately stop singing... The song, however, continues and the group stills.

Havve closes his eyes and listens, audibly releasing a sigh of relief and uttering, “Echo.”

“Makes sense.” Sung says, hitting a nearby crystal with his knuckles, “These things are like glass, they carry vibrations well... That’s good to know moving forward, despite the looks of these things, they’re not very sturdy, making too much noise might cause them to break.”

Meouch crosses his arms, “No more singing then?” he asks, visibly nervous.

“No more singing.” Sung confirms, continuing forward, “It was a catchy tune though.”

“Yeah...” Phobos murmurs almost wistfully.

“Again, it was freaking creepy.” Meouch says, following after Sung, “How can a song about death and destruction be ‘catchy’ or ‘comforting’?”

Havve looks between them, raising an eyebrow as Sung splutters out, “It’s not about something like that, it’s about hope!”

“How is it about hope, when it uses the line ‘all was lost and never to be found again’??”

As the two argue back and forth, occasionally elbowing the other, Havve turns his attention to Phobos, whose mood has lifted significantly from earlier, tapping his arm, signing, “What does the song make you think about?” as they climb up to the top of a hill, looking out over a sea of glowing crystals, “Hope?”

Phobos smiles, “Home.”

Despite the relaxed tone of his friend’s voice, Havve feels his stomach twist.

“I am... home.”

#Ben writes stuff because they're bored #Ben writes something slightly ominous

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helenamayhathaway · 5 years ago

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For those of you who missed what is probably the best ficlet I’ve written thus far, here it is (and also here):

Prompt: prince keeps rejecting marriage proposals because he’s secretly in love with the cute gardener boy (via @pansexual-pandemic) ...but I got a lil Sleeping Beauty with it.

“Royal matchmaker this, royal matchmaker that, honestly, at this point, I just feel like glorified furniture,” Ray says.

“Hey, you know, it could be worse,” Frank shrugs.

“Worse than what? This was supposed to be like, a five-month gig! It was just supposed to be ‘oh find the Prince a wife and then here’s some money’ but no!” Ray says, his voice sounds angry, but Frank knows that he isn’t really. His official title may be ‘royal matchmaker,’ but Ray has been his friend since he showed up to town four years ago. Four years. Wow. That’s a lot of years of Frank rejecting every girl to cross his path.

It’s not so much rejection as Frank just knows they’re not the one. How could they be? He’s sure he’ll know it when the right girl turns up, but he hasn’t met her yet. He knows it’s important, because there are deadlines to consider, but it just hasn’t seemed important enough for him to start being serious about the subject.

Frank has Ray lagging behind him as they stroll through the property, Frank assuring both his guards and Ray that he just wanted some fresh air. He likes it out here, it’s far less stuffy than the palace, which is always a little too warm, and smells old. Frank’s family have lived in that palace for generations, for so long that there are hundred-year-old paintings hanging up in the hallways of people long dead who have Frank’s eyes.

He doesn’t have a trajectory, at least he doesn’t think he does, but he does end up somewhere very particular anyway. Frank always ends up in the gardens. He likes the way the flowers smell, and the way the flowers look. They’re beautifully arrayed, masterfully pieced together to show off every single color of the rainbow, for at least nine months of the year. The flowers that grow in winter are more muted, but just as beautiful, and just as expertly arranged, because the garden is kept in the two most capable hands in the entire kingdom.

Frank bites his lip, looking at one particular bushel of flowers near to him when a familiar voice from behind him says, “those are called impatiens.”

The voice belongs to someone that Frank has known all his life. He turns to see him, the ever smiling, wonderful Gerard. Frank has known him since they were both little kids, Gerard’s father was a gardener to this palace long before he was born. Since childhood, Gerard’s been his closest friend in the world, and probably the only one who doesn’t judge Frank for not falling in love. That’s not to say Gerard isn’t judgmental, because he has made fun of just about everything Frank has ever done ever, and Frank has threatened to lock him up every single time he does it, but that just makes Gerard laugh at him harder.

“Hey, Gerard,” Frank smiles back at him. Gerard’s smile is contagious, absolutely gut-punching. He’s got long, dark brown hair, and eyes the color of the earth he plants his flowers in. It's not in the job description, but Gerard's probably the most attractive gardener in the world. “Impatience you say?”

“No, I said impatiens, not-”

Ray interrupts him to say, “It’s not impatience, Frank, there’s a deadline. You’ve got until you’re 21 before you go to sleep for all eternity! If I don’t find the love of your life before then, we’re all fucked!”

“Why does everyone believe in that silly curse,” Frank groans. Truth is, Frank knows it’s real. Why wouldn’t it be? People have curses placed on them all the time; it’s just what life is like. But he’s trying to make people worry less about him. He’s still got 6 months, it could happen. Princess charming will come waltzing in through the palace doors and Frank will hear a chorus of bells. You know, probably.

“We all need some time away from you,” Gerard says, sighing, “I know I can’t wait to be rid of you for a spell.”

“Exactly!” Frank says, “Oh, and Gerard, you’re fired for that comment.”

“Oh, agony,” Gerard sighs, raising his arms up in defeat as Frank smiles at him. He crouches back down to work on a little patch of soil that he’d been busying at before Frank so rudely interrupted him.

“It’s not funny, Frank,” Ray says. “You’re the only heir to the throne! What do you think happens when it all goes belly up?”

“Well, I imagine you all have a little laugh and find a proper replacement,” Frank says with a shrug. “Perhaps, Gerard here. He knows how to grow flowers, surely, he must also know how to manage the socioeconomic divide.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Gerard nods overdramatically, “Read all about it in the farmer’s almanac.”

“It’s not a joke, you two!” Ray says, sounding aggravated, “if I don’t find you a wife, you’re basically dead. And also, I don’t get paid.”

“Oh, agony,” Frank and Gerard both say.

~*~*~*~

He and Frank are having a staring contest. Neither of them asked if they should have a staring contest, they’ve just been doing it. He supposes that that’s not particularly abnormal for the two of them. Not the staring contest in particular, they just tend to mirror each other. Frank blinks first, which makes Gerard smile a silent victory.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks, though they both know that Frank loves Gerard’s smile and would never complain about it. It’s the greatest smile in the kingdom, Frank is willing to die on those words.

“You know why.”

“I don’t know at all.”

“Sure, Frank.”

“I didn’t even know we were having a staring contest.”

“You’re the one who mentioned it,” Gerard says.

Frank scrunches up his face, “damn, I fell into my own trap.”

“Dumbass,” Gerard says, rolling his eyes.

Frank looks around the two of them at the grass. Gerard has just been picking flowers for the entrance hall of the palace when Frank stole him away because he’s hiding from his father. Being the future prince comes with a lot of responsibilities, but sometimes Frank just wants to hide away with his best friend.

“What are those called, anyway?” he asks, pointing at the pink flowers in Gerard’s hand.

“Camellia,” he responds.

“Those are my new favorite,” Frank declares.

“You have a new favorite every other week,” Gerard responds. “Last week you specifically liked yellow roses.”

“Well, that’s because whichever one you pick are usually the prettiest ones.”

“Oh, how you mock me,” Gerard says, feigning annoyance.

“Hey, that time I tried to tell you I liked dandelions you threatened to end the royal line, so I’m just trying to stay on your good side,” Frank laughs.

“I wish you liked any of those girls as much as you like flowers.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about this, I get enough of it from Ray,” Frank groans. He’s already met with two girls this afternoon, and he’s worried if he goes back to the castle, there will be a long line of more. He didn’t know that there were that many people in existence. There’s at least a few who have snuck in a few times and think that he doesn’t recognize them. Perhaps there are more who have snuck in that Frank genuinely hasn’t recognized.

“You’re running out of time,” Gerard says.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll meet someone; we’ve still got like 4 months! It’ll sort itself out.”

“You need to try harder,” Gerard scolds. “You’re not giving them enough of a chance, dumbass.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t fall in love with someone who’s not my one true love, that’s not exactly going to cut it is it? I’m not saying the curse is real, because that is some bullshit, but if it were real, it’s not going to go away by me wanting to fall in love with. My soulmate is out there somewhere, I just have to meet her,” Frank says. “Oh, and by the way, for that comment, it’ll be a flogging.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Gerard says.

~*~*~*~

“Who the fuck would ever want to fall in love with you?” Gerard says, incredulous. He rarely ever gets to actually witness Frank when Ray’s in the midst of matchmaking, but honestly, if that’s how Frank acts with every girl, then it’s no surprise he doesn’t have a one true love. There’s probably no girl out there at all in the whole world who would ever fall in love with Frank. He’s a jackass.

“What can I say,” Frank shrugs.

“You’re a jackass,” Gerard tells him, because he’s not one for holding his tongue.

“Gerard!” Ray says emphatically.

“I’ve called him worse than that when I’m not annoyed with him,” Gerard says with a shrug.

“Still,” Ray says. “Be easy on him, it’s not some small task, all of this meeting and greeting and trying to establish a connection with so little time to do it.” Gerard is low key not sure what Ray actually does. He used to know what Ray did. Back in the day, four and half years ago, Ray used to pair Frank up with girls who fit a certain mold. He screened the girls before they made it to the ultimate rejection that Frank gave them. Nowadays, literally any girl above a certain age is allowed to “try out.” Nowadays, it seems like all Ray does is watch and make sure that Frank isn’t purposefully rude or shitty to them.

In all fairness, Frank isn’t actually mean to the girls. He just isn’t very opening, not the way he is with Gerard at least. He can say or do anything he likes to Gerard, and they’ll roll the joke around for a few weeks like nothing.

He can’t fathom why none of these girls know how to establish a connection with Frank, when he’s so pathetically easy to understand, or maybe that’s just how Gerard views him. He’s very simple. He’s also stupid as shit, and Gerard tells him as such.

“You’re stupid as shit.”

“I don’t see you falling in love with anyone!” Frank says.

“That’s because I’m not going to go to sleep for all of eternity in less than a month!” Gerard bites back at him.

“You two have a dichotomy I’ll never understand. If only there was a girl in this world who was as dumb as the two of you, maybe I could get Frank to fall in love with her,” Ray says, almost to himself.

“Fuck you,” Frank says. Ray is a very good friend of Frank’s, honestly and genuinely, but literally no one in the entire kingdom lets a ‘fuck you’ from the prince roll of their back besides Gerard. Ray knows it’s a joke, but he’s still a little shaken by it.

“I bet whoever your soulmate is is as ugly as you are, and twice as annoying.”

“That’s a hanging for you,” Frank says.

Gerard makes a very loud, aggravated sound and storms out of the room. He’s not sure why he’s angry. He didn’t used to get angry at Frank for turning girls down. He used to let it be a joke. Because that’s all it was when they were both 17 and this all started out. He laughed off the idea of his best friend in the world, the boy he knew since before he understood what royalty was, could fall in love. Now he’s becoming increasingly distressed. If Frank doesn’t find her in less than 30 days, he’s done for. The stupid motherfucker, he’s most definitely met her and rejected her already, because he’s too dumb for this world.

But god, if Frank goes to sleep forever, Gerard’s life will screech to a halt. He’ll just stop caring about everything. Frank is his best goddamn friend in the world, and without him, not even his flowers will be enough color to populate the darkness that will fill him.

~*~*~*~

“What do you think is going to happen tonight?” Gerard asks. It’s fully starting to sink in now that he’s going to wake up tomorrow and Frank won’t. Tonight is the night of “the big sleep,” as Frank has dubbed it. Frank is literally the only person in the entire Kingdom not taking it seriously. He can’t honestly believe that the curse was fake, can he? An evil witch doesn’t show up on your doorstep to curse you to fall asleep when you touch a spindle just as a party trick. That’s a clear sign. Frank is going to as good as die tonight, because the obstinate little shit couldn’t fall in love with the 21 years, he had to do it in. Just meet one girl and love her. That’s all he had to do.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Frank says, laughing. Gerard pushes him in the shoulder, angrily, because he is angry. Frank is not taking this seriously. For him, he’s just going to be asleep, he won’t know, but for everyone else around him. That’s the end. He’s going to be gone, for just about ever. Maybe he will still be alive, breathing, sleeping, but he’ll be dead to everyone else. All because Frank couldn’t find his one true love who will kiss him and bring him back to life.

“That’s not funny!”

“You used to think it was,” Frank says.

“That was before it was, like, real,” Gerard says. He should feel guilty, he supposes. He knew this was coming, but he kind of just assumed that everything would sort itself out. Frank is the most charming, wonderful, beautiful person in the entire world. How is it possible that any girl could help falling in love with him? Clearly, it’s Frank’s fault. Every girl is ready and willing to bring him back to life, but Frank’s picky. He needs to find his one true love, and even though it seems every eligible woman in this kingdom and all the girls from here to three kingdoms over, has tried to offer themselves to him, he somehow hasn’t found ‘the one.’ Gerard suspects that he probably has found the one, but he joked her away.

“It’s always been real, Gee,” he says, and for the first time probably in either of their lives, Frank is looking directly into Gerard’s eyes with the solemn understanding of what is going to happen. Yes, Frank is going to ‘die’ tonight. Yes, his best friend in the entire world is going to have to look at Frank’s lifeless, sleeping body for the rest of his life unless a miracle strikes, and Ray is able to matchmake him while he’s unconscious. Yes, Gerard will be heartbroken, and the reputation that Frank has given him for having the brightest smile in the kingdom, will be lost as soon as Frank’s eyes close.

“I hate you,” Gerard says shaking his head. He wants to hug Frank, but he knows that it’s not seemly for the help to be so informal with royalty. Everyone in the palace knows that Gerard and Frank are as close as two friends can possibly be, but that doesn’t change Gerard’s status.

At the very beginning of the desperate search for a match, Ray had been ordered to only set Frank up with royals and girls from various noble families. When it was clear, that wasn’t turning anything up, they started allowing anyone to vie for his hand. Now, they’ve reached a standstill. New women showing up by the hour with a prayer and a hope that they could be the long-lost princess of Frank’s dreams. None of them have been.

“No you don’t,” Frank says, his smile doesn’t quite reach the sadness in his eyes. Gerard realizes that Frank might have been joking about the curse all this time as a defense mechanism. He knows what’s going to happen. He’s always known.

“I’m never going to forgive you for going to sleep,”

“Yeah alright.”

Gerard just crosses his arms and shakes his head. He glares out the window. It’s starting to become cold again, he’s gearing up to start fostering the winter flowers. Frank always says that he likes the bright colorful ones, but Gerard knows that the winter ones mean a little something more to him. The winter Jasmine is a welcome cut of white and yellow into the sullen darkness that his bedroom becomes when the moon rises earlier in the sky for months on end.

“You’re going to take care of things around here, aren’t you?” Frank asks, and Gerard looks almost offended by him saying that. “Not just the flowers. You’ve got to keep that big smile of yours. My father adores you; you know. He might be all chivalrous and try to hide it because of his, I don’t know, pretense of masculinity in being King, but like, he’s always liked you. You were my best friend even as a kid. He’s going to need you to help him get by.”

“I hate all of this. I won’t let you fall asleep. You can’t prick your finger if I chop off both of your hands.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

~*~*~*~

No one is entirely sure where the spindle had even come from. There had been four guards on the door, four at the windows, two stood inside Frank’s bedroom, and just about every member of the kingdom standing guard outside the palace doors in support of their beloved prince. There had not been a spindle in that room an hour before midnight, but once midnight struck, there it was.

Gerard knows it’s the curse, he knows it’s not Frank’s fault, but he’s not going to stop him from blaming Frank for touching that goddamn spindle anyway. All he had to do was keep his hands to himself, but he couldn’t do that.

The scream could be heard maybe not just through the entire palace, but perhaps through the entire kingdom. Gerard had been banished to the entrance hall when he heard the scream, and then the shouting, the running, the crying. He hadn’t been scared, sad, in disbelief, angry, or anything at all really. He had just been numb. He knew what had happened. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel.

That was three months ago.

It hasn’t snowed yet this winter, and the people of the kingdom believe it never will until Frank wakes up. It hasn’t rained, snowed, or done anything. Some of the officials are saying that if they don’t receive some sort of precipitation in the next few weeks, they’ll be looking at a drought come spring. Maybe it’s what a kingdom without Frank deserves. A land without water is a land not worth living in, just as a land without Frank bares no real purpose either.

Gerard watches, waits, sitting on the steps of the front entrance to the palace, watching a girl that has surely already tried to throw Frank her love, walks up the stairs anyway. Every girl who had once bid themselves away to be loved by Frank has now returned to place one kiss on the cheek of the sleeping prince. He runs the little bouquet of sweet alyssum through his fingers, thinking about how Frank would stop to smell them, before asking Gerard to cover his room with the stuff. Frank always loved Gerard’s flowers more than anyone else. He doesn’t even think anyone would have noticed they even still had a gardener if it weren’t for Frank insisting that every room hold a testament to Gerard’s hard work.

Any minute now, that girl will come rushing back out the castle steps crying because it wasn’t her, she wasn’t the prince’s one true love. How important does she think she is to think she could ever be good enough for his prince?

Ray guides the girl in with a gentle nod of his head. He’s still hoping that one of these girls will be the one, which is stupid, because Gerard knows that she’s never coming. Frank would have noticed her, surely. He’s the smartest man Gerard’s ever known, of course Frank would know her when he saw her.

It’s dreadful to say that Gerard’s given up, but he has. He knows Frank too well to think that a girl he’s never met could ever be his one true love. Maybe one of these girls really was meant to be for him, but a kiss wouldn’t work if Frank didn’t know he loved her first. That’s the kind of person he was.

Was.

Frank is now a was. He’s no longer an is. He’s a was.

Pretty soon, they’re going to stop allowing Gerard to tend the garden. If water becomes scarce, they won’t have any to waste on some measly flowers. He’s not going to let that happen. Gerard will trek to the nearest lake, river, or ocean every single day without sleep in order to get the water to grow Frank’s favorite flowers. Because, what if, by some unimageable miracle, Frank wakes up and there are no flowers to greet him?

Gerard stays seated on these steps, watching his breath form a white cloud every time he exhales, but he doesn’t feel the cold. He doesn’t feel much of anything. Maybe he never will again.

She comes running out of the steps only a few minutes later, with her hands to her eyes, as soft sobs run through her, sobs that don’t even rip out of her like they should, like the ones that put Gerard to sleep every night. Her tears are vapid, she’s not the one. That’s not why you should be crying for Frank. Cry because he is the most amazing man in all the kingdoms, and cry because he can’t ever wake up.

~*~*~*~

He’s just received the news. As much as the King would like for Gerard to stay on at the palace, it would simply be irresponsible for a kingdom in drought to waste so much water on the flowers. Gerard had known it was coming. He refuses to accept it. He puts the kaffir lilies into the vase beside Frank’s bed, worrying that these are the last offering he’ll be able to give to Frank. He’s going to find a way to keep the flowers growing. At least enough to keep filling the room. He hopes.

Gerard knows it’s unrealistic. He’ll be in a lot of trouble if he starts literally draining a precious resource. But it breaks his heart in two to think about the sadness that would be in Frank’s face were the flowers to stop growing.

It’s been six months since he went to sleep. What should have been winter has come and gone. It was blisteringly cold, but there was no snow. Instead, everything had frozen up, the entire kingdom a dry, helpless place. Few girls were able to trek their way to the palace to even offer up their love to the prince, but it’s not like it would matter.

Gerard sighs, and sits himself on the bed right next to Frank. His sleeping face is devastatingly handsome, but more than that, it’s just devastating. Gerard has not been as frequent a visitor to his room as one would expect, because he’s been far too sad to see him. He only comes in to change out the flowers once they begin to fray and wilt.

It’s a Sunday, so they aren’t taking visitors, which means Frank will be all by himself until tomorrow when he’s sure more girls who think they’re the one find out that they’ve been kidding themselves.

Gerard looks at his soft face. Frank is so pale; he hasn’t seen the sun for real in half a year. He doesn’t look any thinner than he did when he went to sleep, so that might be part of the magic. His cheeks don’t have any color to them, but you can sit and watch his chest rise and fall. Gerard puts a hand on his chest just to feel it. He needs to know Frank is still breathing, even if it doesn’t really matter anyhow.

His skin isn’t warm, in fact, even through his shirt, Gerard can feel that he’s cold. The only indicator that this man is still alive is the feel of his chest, which Gerard savors.

Why is it better that he’s alive, never to be awoken than it would be if he were dead? Is that what that old crone had wanted to do in the first place? She wanted the entire kingdom to have hope, because hope keeps you thinking something good might happen. But really, that witch never intended for this story to have a happy ending. Maybe Frank doesn’t actually have a true love at all. Maybe that’s the game. That Frank is unlovable. She gave everyone a hope that the curse could be broken as long as he finds his true love, but she doesn’t exist.

Gerard had thought that the tears were behind him, but he catches a loud harsh sob in his throat, which physically pains him. He puts his head into his hands and leans away from Frank so that he can cry into them. And he cries and cries and cries. For an hour, maybe two, Gerard just cries next to Frank. Every few minutes, there will be a minute of pause where he stops, thinks that they’ve subsided, but then, the tears come back.

“This is all your fucking fault, you piece of shit,” Gerard says to Frank, turning to again look at his stupidly attractive face. No one has the right to look that beautiful, least of all not a man who’s as good as dead.

“You couldn’t just fall in love and be happy. No, you had to be a picky son of a bitch.” Gerard prods at his shoulder, like he would if he were waiting for Frank to respond to him, which he doesn’t do.

“You’re still picky. Girls are traipsing through here every damn day, and you just sit there like a pathetic little fucker.”

“They come in here and they kiss you, and you just lie there, because you’re stupid,” Gerard tells him. He puts his hand in Frank’s hair, he doesn’t know why, he just wants to. His hair is still soft, as if he had washed it just yesterday. He doesn’t have any real bodily functions, doesn’t need to eat or piss, so he’s literally as perfect as the day he went to bed, his 21st birthday. “They kiss your stupid fucking face, when they’re not in love with you, while the people who really do love you have to just look at you all the time and know you’re never coming back.”

Why won’t Frank listen to him? Why won’t he wake up so that he can threaten to put Gerard in the stocks? Why doesn’t Frank wake up to tell him to smile like he always used to? Why doesn’t Frank just wake up?

No one has called him Gee in half a year. No one has told Gerard how pretty his flowers are, or at least, no one has meant it the way Frank always did. No one has even really made a joke in Gerard’s direction at all. No one in the kingdom jokes, smiles, or laughs anymore, not with Frank in this state, but especially not Gerard. It’s very clear that Gerard has taken it worse than anyone else. Not even Frank’s own father, the King, has a comprehension of the pain Gerard feels when he looks upon his best friend.

“Fuck you, Frank. You know that I care about you, don’t you, dumbass? I care about you more than anyone in the world does. More than Ray, more than your dad, more than literally anyone. Why don’t you wake up for me?” Gerard says, and maybe just to prove a point he kisses Frank’s cheek like all those girls have done. “Wake up for me, you stupid fucking shit.”

Gerard starts crying again, practically draping himself over Frank’s body as he cries right against his chest, wishing that Frank’s warmth could seep into him and make him feel a little less alone.

…his warmth?

“It’s going to be the gallows for that sort of language.” The voice is very soft, and croaky, from months and months of disuse. Gerard’s crying halts, almost like someone has strangled him. He lifts himself up, hair in his own face, so he has to brush it aside so that he can meet those big brown eyes.

“Frank?” Gerard’s voice sounds so soft that he’s not sure if it was even audible.

“You’re my one true love, aren’t you?” Frank asks, looking very soft and sleepy, and barely even awake, which isn’t fair considering how much sleep he fucking got.

“I absolutely fucking am not,” Gerard says, something like repulsion in his voice.

Frank uses a very sleep hand to pull Gerard’s face to his and this time, though Gerard could not tell you at all how it comes to be so, his lips meet Frank’s own lips. Gerard’s never kissed anyone before, so he supposes it’s possible that all kisses feel as perfect as this one, but he also thinks it might be unlikely.

“Oh yeah,” Frank says when his smiling breaks the kiss, “I think you fucking are.”

“I am not,” Gerard says, being the one to kiss Frank this time. He doesn’t know what emotions he’s feeling right now. He’s feeling a lot of them. All of the emotions. Every last one. Rage, passion, sorrow, pride, happiness. The lot of them.

“Those flowers are very pretty,” Frank says.

“Fuck you,” Gerard responds. Frank has sat up in bed, when did that happen? Neither of them knows. Gerard is still kissing him; Frank is kissing him back. Softly, then angrily, because Gerard is furious with this piece of shit who had the nerve to go and fall in love with Gerard. This absolute motherfucker who would dare be Gerard’s one true love. Of course he’s not going to fall in love with a girl, they should’ve both realized no one else but him could be the one. Why didn't this stupid dipshit realize that they were made for each other? If he had, Gerard would have been saved from a lot of sadness and turmoil. Absolute piss for brains.

A voice comes screaming down the halls, a voice that comes from Ray. “It’s raining, Gerard, fuck, ow, stubbed my toe. Gerard, it’s raining, it’s actually raining!” There’s a lot of thudding before the door is whacked open by an overly excited Ray who’s here to tell Gerard what will probably the only good news for the rest of their entire lifetimes.

The two of them only pull away because they can sense something important is happening, though neither of them have a clue what Ray had just been screaming, or why it could ever be important in comparison to them kissing each other.

“What the fuck?” Ray says, as he’s stood in the doorway looking at a conscious prince.

“Have I missed much?” Frank smiles widely, and god, it’s that look, those pretty teeth bared, on that pretty face that finally allows what Frank has dubbed the brightest smile in the entire kingdom to return to Gerard’s face.

#Frerard #frerard fanfiction #Mcr #My Chemical Romance #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #new fic #Helena hathaway #Archive of our own #wattpad #my chemical romance fanfiction #mcr fanfiction #ao3 #gerard way #frank iero

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sprnklersplashes · 5 years ago

Text

The One Where Robin Gets Bronchitis

Sometimes, true love isn’t always epic kisses, breaking curses, fairytale weddings and romantic dances.

Sometimes it’s pushing your girlfriend away from you because you have viral bronchitis but she has no sense of self-preservation and keeps trying to kiss you.

(fluff, pure fluff friends)

Robin buries her face in her pillow as she hears the door close, Gideon leaving for work. On her bedside sit roughly five different kinds of medicine (she’s far too tired to give a real count) and a litre bottle of water, as well as a basin beside her bed despite knowing she won’t throw up. That’s what happens when her best friend-slash-roommate is an overprotective hypochondriac whose Mum Friend instincts kick into overdrive when someone is sick (especially when that someone is Robin, the girl he’s been looking out for since they were toddling around Storybrooke’s playpark together).

She lets out another cough, pressing her tissue to her mouth.

“You look like St Therese,” Hope says, casually as they can with five hairpins between their teeth. Since it’s entirely their fault Robin is in her tired, fevered, miserable state, Robin Facetimed them once she woke up to make them feel as guilty as possible. Now she’s curled up on one side, away from the harsh light of her window, her phone propped up by a stack of books and wearing the cat onesie she bought herself as an early Christmas present, all while huddled underneath her comforter.

“Who?” she asks.

“St Therese. You know, the French saint who died of coughing blood. Her last words in her diary were something like ‘wow there’s a lot of bubbly stuff on my mouth right now’. Or something.”

“Or something,” Robin agrees. “Anyway, I’m not coughing blood. I’m coughing mucus which is arguably worse.”

“What colour?”

“Hope!”

“What?” they sigh. “My dad said that you can tell a lot by the colour of your mucus.”

“Your dad grew up in the 1800s and wouldn’t know what antibiotics were if you threw them at his face. He probably threw little lavender bags at you when you got sick.”

“You know, technically you’re shit talking your future father-in-law there,” they remind her. Robin pulls a face at the camera as Hope slides another hairpin into their black locks before pulling them apart. “And for your information, it was rosemary.” They look down for a second, biting their lips like a nervous child, which in a lot of ways, Hope still is. Or at least in Robin’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Rob.”

“Don’t worry about it, H,” she replies before letting out another cough, making Hope flinch. “Just hope your date with Melody was worth it.”

“It was,” she replies, a pink blush on their pale cheeks. Robin giggles and looks beyond the phone screen to her bedroom door, where the scarf she lent Hope for her date is hanging on a hook. Hope swore up and down last Friday their bout of bronchitis was over and begged and pleaded (and admittedly, screamed a little) for their parents to let them go out with Melody that night for their two month anniversary. They had agreed, on one condition, Hope wrap up a warm as humanly possible. And since their scarf was lost in her Bermuda triangle of a bedroom, Robin had agreed to let Hope borrow one of hers, only after making Hope look her in the eye and swear they were better now. And they did.

And now she’s here.

“Was there a goodnight smooch?” she pries, giggling again. She’s pretty sure the fever is causing her to regress to a schoolgirl.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” they say coyly, only to have realisation slowly dawn on them. “Um… I’m just going to check up on her. See if she’s… you know…”

“Caught your disease?”

“It’s not my disease!” they squeak indignantly, standing up and putting their bag on their shoulder. “Anyways I have to go. Mom will arrest me if I’m late for class again.”

“Can she do that? Is that in her jurisdiction?”

“No idea and I don’t want to find out,” they answer. “How do I look?” They gesture to their outfit; black and pink hair tucked into a deliberately messy braid, graphic t-shirt and paint-splattered denim dungarees with a plaid shirt over it. Complete with winged eyeliner and dark lipstick.

“Gorgeous,” she tells them. “Gorgeous and gay.”

“That’s the look I was going for. Anyway, chug orange juice and go to sleep. Because you look like shit and I don’t want you to look like that. I’ll see you later, Rob.”

“See you, Hopey.” Hope clicks off the call and the screen goes black. Robin puts her phone to the side, groaning as another coughing fit makes her bed shake and brings up more mucus. Green again. Lovely. She pulls the blankets tighter around herself, pressing her face into her pillow and begging Zeus (who she knows is real, god damn it) to just either fix her messed up body or let her go the hell to sleep.

She hates being sick. She always hated it. When she was younger her mum had to wrestle her from the front door, Robin all dressed in her school uniform and insisting she was going despite her chicken pox/vomiting/fever/whatever was wrong with her this time. She can think up a million and one deep explanations for it or she can be blunt and honest; it’s boring. Storybrooke even on a good day, as much as she loves it, is boring with its small town and days planned out to the second, two restaurants, one bar and one nightclub that barely qualifies as a club. But when she’s sick and confined to her bed, she finds herself desperate for anything to set her free, even just to stand in the woods and shoot arrows at a tree for half an hour.

When it’s clear sleep isn’t coming, she pushes herself out of the bed, her comforter still wrapped around her shoulders like her brother with his cape in the Enchanted Forest. She stuffs as many of the pills and medicine in the pocket of her onsie as she can before grabbing her water and making her way to the living room. She had planned to get a glass of juice from the fridge as well, but all she can do is collapse onto the couch and pant, the short walk from her bedroom to the living room having used up what little energy she had.

She grabs the remote and whacks on Netflix while chugging her water. Hopefully, a season or three of Brooklyn Nine Nine can distract her from herself.

It’s three hours later when Alice comes in and by then she’s feeling at least fifty percent worse. Her chest is aching, her throat is raw from coughing and despite the fact that she’s only gotten up once to get the carton of orange juice from the fridge (the glasses are up too high and getting one would involve breaking her blanket cocoon) and refill her water, she’s spent the last half an hour trying to catch her breath. In short, she’s miserable, and not even the human ball of sunshine she calls a girlfriend can make her feel better.

“Good afternoon, the beautiful light of my life, how are we feeling today?”

“I want to die.”

“No you don’t.” She plops down the plastic bag on the sofa and takes out her so-called remedies. “I brought you chocolate… I brought you headache pills… oh, and Hope told me to get you this.” She chucks a bottle of something blue, wincing a little when it hits her face. “Sorry, my love.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “My reflexes aren’t great right now.” She takes a look at the bottle, grateful when she sees Hope told Alice to buy her a smoothie and not some Enchanted Forest cure-all made from tree bark and frogs or something. “Thanks, Al.” Alice settles herself on the couch beside her, kicking off her boots and tucking her legs up underneath her. “How goes the dog shelter?”

After the whole curse business was over with, it wasn’t long before Alice realised she needed a new job. For one thing, real estate in Seattle is a bitch even when it’s a cursed neighbourhood and your landlord is Michael Banks, but there was more. Alice wasn’t a fan of having nothing to do, and she wasn’t used to it either. Her dad had kept her days in the tower choc-a-bloc full of activities (if her old diary is anything to go by, she barely had time to breathe). And despite how good she was at the beignet truck; that was only part time and it wasn’t capturing her imagination like Sheriffing did for Emma or teaching did for Snow. So when she saw an advert for a vacancy at a dog shelter, who was she to say no?

“Oh, it’s fun,” Alice says. “Lots of little puppers. We think Matilda’s nearly ready to give birth.”

“No way,” she says, taking a drink of the smoothie. Nectar of the gods, she thinks. “I remember when she first got pregnant. And you still don’t know who the father is?”

“Nope. She’s a frisky girl is our Matilda.” Robin chuckles and plays with her comforter. Alice turns to her, giving her the big, sad eyes she thinks only Alice is capable of, somehow wise beyond her years and innocently childlike at the same time. “How have you been, love?”

“Fine,” she sighs fondly, taking her girlfriend’s outstretched hand. “I sent some e-mails, I watched TV, I’ve been staying hydrated, I scolded Hope for making me sick-”

“Oh it’s not her fault,” she tells her. “Not really.”

“Uh, she lied and said she was better and then put my scarf around her bacteria ridden neck,” she points out. “I think that makes it her fault. Speaking of, have you heard from Melody at all today?”

“Melody as in Hope’s girlfriend, Melody?” Robin nods. “Can’t say that I have, why?”

“Because if our little Hopey planted one on her then the little mermaid probably has what I have.” She lets out another cough as if to prove her point. Thanks, universe, she thinks.

“You should really stop meddling in her love life,” Alice points out, opening the chocolate she’s pretty sure was meant for Robin and breaking a square off for herself. She then sheepishly hands her the bar and Robin takes it, unsure if she should be eating chocolate in her condition but hey, can’t hurt more than the bronchitis already does.

“I don’t meddle,” she says through two squares. “I’m just… you know… giving guidance.”

“Of course you are, my darling,” she says. “Now why don’t I make you some tea?”

“Ugh, please,” she sighs, not realising how much she wanted a cup until Alice had mentioned it. “Honey in it?”

“Anything for my honey.”

Not five minutes later they’re on the couch together, Alice pressed into Robin’s side. She feels kind of bad for not putting her arm around her, but again, that would involve breaking her blanket cocoon and she’s just not up for that. She can’t even hold her hand since both of hers are stuck inside the blanket and wrapped around her mug of tea.

If there’s an award for worst girlfriend ever, she wouldn’t win it per say, but she’d be a contender for sure.

Alice doesn’t seem to mind though. Not when she’s pressing kisses along her blanket-covered arms and shoulder and runs her fingers through her hair. Combined with Robin’s own illness-induced exhaustion, it’s almost enough to send her to sleep right on that sofa. Alice must have picked up on that, because she feels her lips, gentle and delicate, against her cheekbone and for a moment it’s nice.

And then it’s not.

“Woah, woah, wait,” she says, half wriggling away from her. Alice draws away quickly, her blue eyes wide, and if Robin wasn’t confined within a blanket, she’d kick herself. Their joint curse may be broken, but that doesn’t mean that the after-effects of what Gothel did to her father’s heart doesn’t hang around Alice and bleed into every other relationship she has. Robin wastes no time in pulling her hand out of the blanket and grasping Alice’s softly and gently squeezing it. “Hey, hey it’s okay. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she replies, a telltale flame of anxiety in her eyes. Robin’s thumb moves in soothing circles on the back of her hand, something that tends to bring Alice back to her. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Alice,” Robin interrupts, caressing her cheek. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. It’s just… this is crazy contagious, babe. I don’t want you to catch it.” Alice’s bad mood breaks immediately, her normal, crazy, wonderful smile gracing her face and Robin can breathe.

“Well you know, my love,” she begins, walking her fingers up her arm. “All that time in the tower gave me a wonderful immune system.”

“Did it?” she asks. “I’m not sure that’s how it works…”

“It is,” she says, resting her chin on Robin’s shoulder and looking up at her, all big sparkling eyes that scream “butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth”. Robin wonders how many times Rogers had to deal with those eyes.

“Maybe. But I don’t want to risk you getting sick. Okay babe?” And that’s what makes Alice nod and settle for resting her cheek on Robin’s shoulder, playing with her fingers gently, linking and unlinking them. Robin can’t stop a small noise of contentment in the back of her throat as she leans against the sofa, maybe, hopefully, finally getting that sleep she’s been craving all day.

Until Alice kisses her cheek again. Exhausted as she is, she thinks (hopes) that it’s a hallucination brought on my her drugged up, over-tired mind, until that stupid girl she’s in love with kisses her again, higher up this time, landing on her cheekbone.

“Alice!” she groans, opening one eye. Alice smiles bright as the sun and innocent as a rose. It’s adorable and it makes her briefly forget what she was going to say. Briefly. “Stop.” Her girlfriend pouts as Robin presses a finger to her cheek and pushes her back. “I’m contagious.”

“I’m sure you’re not, Nobin,” she says, rubbing her arm. “And maybe I won’t mind…” Her fingers crawl up Robin’s arm like a spider and before her muddled brain can register what’s happened, Alice kisses both her cheeks and manages to sneak a peck on her lips before Robin slaps her face away.

“No,” she orders sternly, poking Alice in the chest. “Or you’ll get sick too and I am not dealing with you being sick.”

“What’s wrong with me being sick?” she asks indignantly.

“Nothing,” she replies, taking a sip of her smoothie and neglecting to mention the time Alice got the flu and begged Robin to call the hospital, convinced she was dying. It was only her own lack of strength that stopped her from walking there herself. She turns on her side and looks up at her girlfriend, in all her unruly hair, wide eyed goofy grinned glory. Everything she loves. “Al… please. I just don’t want you to catch this. It’s not fun. Believe me.” She strokes a stray lock of hair away from her face and pokes at the dimple in her cheek. “As much as it is taking care of you, I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Her face softens and she leans into Robin’s touch. “Okay, babe?”

“Okay, my love,” she responds, tickling the inside of Robin’s hand with kisses. “Now come her, let me cuddle the nasty bronchitis.” Robin nestles her head into her favourite pillow (Alice’s lap) and sighs as Alice begins gentle running her fingers through her hair. She feels herself slipping further and further away, the sleep she’s been desperately craving finally coming as the sound from the TV fades to white noise. She makes a mental note to thank Alice for coming over to see her.

If she’s not sick by next week.

Robin winces as Alice lets out another hacking cough, followed by a long, pained groan. She sounds vaguely like a wounded animal. A wounded bunny. Robin came over the minute Alice called to cancel their date tonight, letting her dad go off to his shift at the station. She tied Alice’s hair back and even came prepared, giving her the hoodie she just loves stealing before making tea and switching on the TV for her.

She’s going to be such a great wife, she thinks proudly.

“So you’ll never guess who has bronchitis,” she says into the phone teasingly, sitting on the edge of the couch, her phone wedged between her shoulder.

“Okay let me guess,” Hope says on the other end. Of course she called Hope the second she found out what Alice had. “Could it be your girlfriend who, despite repeated warnings that you were a contagious little bitch, smooched your face like there was no tomorrow?”

“I do not have bronchitis!” Alice snaps weakly, burying herself under the blanket. “It’s just a little cold-”

Robin turns her phone on speaker just in time for Alice’s bi-hourly coughing fit, complete with green mucus staining the tissues.

“Yeah that sounds like bronchitis, babe,” Hope says on the other end of the phone. “I would know. I started this whole debacle.”

“Oh speaking of, how’s Melody?” Alice asks, half sarcastic. Robin clamps her hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. “Papa said he saw your Ariel at the pharmacy yesterday.”

“Melody’s awesome,” Hope says flatly. “Melody’s doing great. Don’t worry about Melody. Anywho I have to go. Lacrosse practice.”

“Knock them dead!” Alice tells them between coughs.

“Do not knock anybody dead,” Robin says sternly. “See you later.”

“Bye. Tell your girlfriend she’s a dumb lesbian.” Robin laughs as the dial tone rings in her ear.

“Hope says you’re a dumb lesbian,” she says as she sits down beside Alice. Alice curls up tighter under her blanket, her face barely peeking out.

“Hope’s the dumbest lesbain,” she says, about as mean-spirited as a kitten eating a lollipop. She groans again, so high and so long that it borders on wining, and Robin tries and fails not to find it adorable. Even if the saddened look on her face does tear at her heart.

“Okay, come here. Come to Robin.” Alice shifts and shimmies in her blanket burrito until she’s semi-upright, enough at least for Robin to cuddle her and kiss the fabric of her hood (not her face, as she knows). Her bony shoulders poke against Robin’s chest as she tries to get comfortable and her hand pokes out of the sleeve to take hers.

“You were right,” Alice admits, playing with Robin’s fingers. “I should have left you alone.”

“Well… not leave me alone, per say,” she replies, nuzzling into her head, feeling the wild mane beneath her hoodie. “Having you around sure helped me get better. And who else was going to make me tea and bring me chocolate?” She feels Alice’s smile, despite her burrowing so far into her jumper that only her eyes are visible.

“Nevertheless,” she begins, her voice scratchy and teetering on sleep. “I promise I’ll listen to you from now on.”

“No you won’t,” Robin says fondly, kissing the tip of her finger and tapping it on Alice’s nose. Her face scrunches up and her eyes flutter shut. Her shoulders drop and Robin knows she’s fast asleep by now, but that doesn’t stop her talking. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

#curious archer #curious archer ff #ouat #robin mills #alice jones #ouat ff

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