#please for the love of god its not that complicated just think for a moment and dont sleep in your classes and youll get it

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / FINAL

previous part

tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of suicide, heavy angst, please be cautious as always! <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

The weight on your shoulders was heavy and exhausting. It caused your body and soul to ache with a crushing feeling of grief. Your conversation with Price played in your mind tenfold, repeating over and over until it drove you to the point of insanity. You feared if you stayed stuck in the loop for a moment longer, your brain might short circuit and you’d succumb to life’s torturous game.

How had things come to this?

Two weeks ago, you should’ve been dead. Two weeks ago, you should’ve denied Ghost’s abrupt deal, you should’ve told him the truth – that you had no intentions of living past that very Friday the two of you planned meticulously to end your life.

Two weeks ago, you should’ve never met Simon.

What was meant to be a task given to you with the purpose of self healing had erupted into an even scarier nightmare. Life would’ve never been so complicated had you denied Simon and stuck to your original plan on desired death. It would’ve never been so complicated had you just done it all yourself instead of pussying out and asking him to finish the job for you.

Now, all that remained was a heart beyond repair, fragments of its shattered pieces being taken away with Simon when he had left.

He had the entirety of your heart, and you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. You couldn’t take it back if you wanted to. It belonged to him, and your heart was loyal to its owner.

All that was left was the, what now? Price had made it clear he couldn’t promise anything. Hell, you wouldn’t blame him if he had just said that in a half-assed attempt of comfort. For all you knew, Simon hadn’t a clue what was going on in the first place, or perhaps he didn’t care. Living without closure of what could’ve been had left you scarred and untrusting, even of the very man you’d fallen in love with.

Love was what always got you into this mess, after all. You couldn’t love yourself, so God was executing punishment by making you unlovable to everyone else. If anything, you should be thanking him for steering you away from more heartache.

Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Simon giving you a taste of what life could be if you had just tried harder, before pulling the candy right out of your mouth before you could protest that you weren’t quite finished with it.

You didn’t reach out to Simon. Even though you were blocked from the moment the two of you had sex and he ran, you didn’t dare try and test out your theory to see if he had undone his action. You weren’t even sure you knew what you could say to him.

While it was clear Price played a dirty hand in creating the drift between the two of you, Simon still allowed himself to be a puppet on Price’s string. It boiled you to the core, filled you with resentful distaste that you couldn’t quite swallow.

It was hard to accept that you hated him almost as much as you loved him.

No matter how angry you were at the world for the hand it was dealing you, you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave it. Not on your own. Even through the hole of emptiness that rattled you to the bone, a spark of hope shone from deep within you, and that was what kept you going. It was the faintest of light, fighting to stay ablaze. No matter how puny and weak it was, it was still there, cheering you on in a gentle voice to keep going.

As much as you didn’t want to listen, you did.

Life’s a bitch and then you die. But maybe if you gave it one final chance at redemption, things may work out in your favor this time. And if they didn’t? The original plan was always in the cards.

Simon left Price in the dust the moment he uttered those words. Go and get your bird back, Simon.

He had never heard something so beautiful, so breathtaking. It was his call back home, and he’d be an absolute tool if he didn’t rush to return to its welcoming arms.

He didn’t care how ridiculous he looked running along the streets in the middle of the night. Hell, he didn’t even bother to put his mask on. Tonight, he was Simon, and he was wearing his identity with pride. Ghost was tucked away in the darkest depths of his mind, caged in and hidden. With you, he didn’t want to be Ghost. He didn’t want to be a man who thrived off of the stolen lives of the innocent in order to pay his bills. He didn’t want to be the broken version of himself that imprisoned his own vulnerability.

He wanted to be the man who could give you a colorful life filled with painted sunsets and warm rays. Only Simon could do that, and he’d throw Ghost away if that was what it took.

The closer Simon got to your apartment, the more the nerves wracked his body with a faint tremor. Would you even speak to him? Forgive him? He knew he didn’t deserve it. Hell, he deserved a cold fist to the jaw and a stab wound to the heart.

The least he could do was try.

He pondered if he should get you something. Flowers, maybe, but when it came down to it, flowers were a pathetic excuse for an apology. No, Simon wanted to do this right. He had spent his entire life partaking in wrongdoings. For once, just once, he wanted to be good.

The sight of your building nearly had him throwing up on the concrete beneath his boots. It turned his stomach in a sickeningly sweet way, coating his tongue with bitter cottonmouth. For the first time since he could remember, Simon was scared. Downright terrified.

While the feeling should be seen in a negative light, he saw it as the complete opposite. It meant he was alive. He was still human. He still harbored emotions that Ghost had so desperately tried to get rid of.

Even after everything, he was still Simon.

His feet grew heavier and heavier with every step he took into your building, up the raggedy stairs, and down the dim hall, just like the routine he had always fallen into when waiting for you to return from work. Things may be different now, and he may be venturing on the same path with a different ending this time, but that didn’t mean he was led astray. Different could mean better, and he could only pray to the very God putting him through hell that his outcome would be brighter than before.

Simon didn’t know how long he stood outside of your door. He willed himself to knock, but he was struggling internally. The truth was, he was scared to see you. Seeing you meant facing the result of his regretful actions, and he wasn’t sure he could handle recognizing you as broken because of him.

He dug this grave, he wallowed in it, and now it was time to crawl his way out and make things right.

His fist shook as he raised it to knock on the door. Knuckles collided with the old wood, echoing sharply in his ears. Anxiety crept into his bones, leaving him in an uncomfortable suffocation. He felt as if he wouldn’t be able to breathe until you were in front of him. The room felt small, it was closing in on him. He wondered if this was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve just left you alone, maybe he should’ve kept you out of his mess–

“Simon?”

The air that was tightening in his lungs exhaled in a slow, trembling breath, shoulders going slack from their tightly wound stiffness. Your voice was his oxygen, and he could finally breathe again.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, and God, did it feel jubilating to say that name again.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, and the bitterness in your tone was clear. It sunk into him like a thousand knives, coursing him with relentless pain.

“I need to fix this,” he gasped out. “Please, sweetheart, let me fix this. I know I fucked up, alright? I fucked up bad.”

You stared at him in disdain, but Simon could see the glimmer of a burning ache in your eyes that matched his own. You missed him just as much as he missed you, but your hurt overruled everything else. He didn’t blame you one bit.

“You left me after you had sex with me, Simon,” you spat with dripping fire that scorched him with every word. “You left me after everything. You expect me to just let you come here and tell me you fucked up, as if I didn’t know that?”

Simon could feel his resolve slipping away. He wanted to panic, to spit out useless apologies until one of them worked and you caved, but that wasn’t how this was going to go. Simon would have to work for it, and he’d be damned if he let you slip away. He’d spend the rest of his life working for it if it meant having you in the end.

“Sweetheart–”

“Fucking– I’m not doing this in my doorway. Just… just come inside,” you sighed out, utterly defeated. You didn’t have to tell Simon twice. He stepped into your apartment cautiously, letting you know that you were in complete control. You were in charge, and Simon was here to take the beatdown, no matter how painful it may be.

Upon entering, your apartment was in havoc. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t disgusting or revolting, but it was clear you spent most of your days cooped up in your room. Simon felt guilt eat away at him from the mere sight alone.

“Tell me how I can fix this,” Simon pleaded. Everything about his body language was desperate, distressed. His hands spoke for him, moving animatedly, unable to control himself. He was begging. For the first time in his life, he was begging.

“I’m not telling you how to fix anything, Simon. You’re the one supposed to fix it on your own. I’m not going to do it for you,” you explained in eerie calmness, but it was unmistakingly exhaustion. He couldn’t imagine how much he had put you through.

He knew you were right. This was Simon’s responsibility, and begging you for the cure would be easy on him and harder for you. He couldn’t allow that to happen. You’d already been burdened enough.

Simon stared at you, eyes glossed over, eyebrows pulled together from his stir of emotions. The way you stared back was empty, and it broke his heart that he was the reason for the light going out so soon after gaining it back.

He contemplated what to do. There were many ways this could go sideways, and he couldn’t risk that. He had to pick what was right in his heart, even if it meant shoving away the pride he’d grown accustomed to over the years of being alone and hollow.

Simon slowly got down on his knees, hands clasped in his lap, and he gazed up at you in woe. He was baring himself to you completely, stripping himself of all defenses, and succumbing to vulnerability. Never had Simon gotten on his knees for another person. His ego was too large, and he refused to let himself express weakness.

For you, he’d hang himself dry.

“What are you–”

“Please, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice soft yet broken, brimming with anguish. “I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. Nothin’ I say will make it better. I can’t change it, no matter how much I wish I could. I fucked up, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness for leavin’ you the way I did, for hurtin’ you like everybody else has done. I gave you an empty promise, and even then, I broke it.”

You were speechless from where you stood, peering down at this burly man on his knees for you. Your eyes never strayed away from his, and you recognized the familiar spark of despair in them. They looked just like yours every time you looked in the reflection. He was a mirror of you, just as you were a mirror of him.

“I was scared of losin’ you because of my job. I didn’t think a sweet thing like you deserved to be involved with a man like me. I didn’t want you hurt,” he explained, and the faintest crack in his voice showed you just how hard this was for him as well. You weren’t the only one suffering the consequences.

“Yet you hurt me anyway,” you whispered brokenly, and Simon deflated.

“I know,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I know, sweetheart. I let my fear control me, and it caused me to make things worse. It wasn’t fair t’you. I fucked up, and I’m so sorry.”

Your own resolve was faltering. You wanted so badly to be angry, to kick him out and be done with him. Strip him from your life and return to your days of wallowing in loneliness and misery.

You couldn’t. Every word was like a small bandaid over a too-big wound, but it was an attempt. He was trying. Nobody had ever tried with you before.

“Y’know,” you began, voice as soft as a whisper. “One of your boys came by to see me. Price.”

Simon blinked, surprise morphing on to his face. He swallowed anxiously, fists squeezing in his lap before he forced them to relax.

“And?”

You stared at him for a moment, shifting through your words in your mind.

“He tried to get me to cut you off. Tell you that I was better off, that I didn’t want you around anymore. He thought it would be best,” you finished quietly, shifting your eyes away from him in a moment of guilt. You weren’t sure why you were feeling it, but you’d recognize that uncomfortable lump in your throat anywhere. “I told him no.”

Simon’s eyebrows raised, eyes darting over your face to read your expression. “You did?”

“Yeah,” you confessed, shifting uncomfortably. “Told him… told him you didn’t deserve that.”

His heart ached painfully in his chest. What a lovely woman you were, defending him even after he had wronged you. How stupid he was for letting his own past misfortunes creep into the present.

He should be mad at Price for invading in on his personal business, but if he didn’t, Simon might not be here right now, kneeling before you and pleading for forgiveness. Price gave him an in, he gave him a chance, even if he went behind his back to do so.

Go and get your bird back, Simon.

It made sense now. Simon nearly laughed in bitter humor.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, finally gaining your gaze back. Your eyes had softened from their hardened walls you built back up again, and he prayed he had a chance. “I know it’s not goin’ to fix anythin’. You’re still angry with me, and you have every right t’be. But if you still decide to throw me out, to never speak t’me again, then I want you t’know that I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, chest pulling tight. A mixture of pain and relief coursed through your veins, and you weren’t sure which emotion to listen to. You weren’t sure what was right, but there was one thing you were sure of, and it was that you loved him, too. Heartbreakingly so.

“You do?” you whispered in uncertainty.

Simon rose from his kneeled position, taking a cautious step towards you. When you didn’t back away, he seized the opportunity to cradle your hands in his, holding them to his heart. “I do,” he repeated softly. “I’m not good at this, sweetheart. I’ve done a lot of terrible things. I’ve hurt people, I’ve killed people, yet loving somebody has always been the hardest thing to do. With you, it feels easy.”

You stared up at him, searching for any signs of dishonesty. What stared back at you was pure truth, his eyes flooding with a new light that promised love and confidence.

Taking a deep breath and a leap of faith, you responded, “I love you, too. Even though I should hate you.”

For the first time since seeing him, Simon smiled. It was a boyish smile, one you’d never seen before, and it lit your entire world up. The sun was back out, the flowers were blooming, birds were chirping, and nature was at peace. It tugged on your heartstrings and pulled away all of the hurt that had resided inside.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. It brought you back to the first time the two of you shared a kiss, and the memory was fond. Despite all of the troubles and heartache, Simon was true to his word. Even if the world had failed the two of you, now was the time to change life’s course and rewrite your own future.

“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly.

Simon’s kiss was as familiar as before, but this time, it felt much more intimate. It was burning passion simmered down to tenderness, his hands cradling your face with the utmost care, treating you like frail china. He didn’t push or prod and instead moved with you rather than take control, letting you handle the reins this time.

It was a slow dance rather than a waltz, steady and unceasing.

“We’ll figure this out together, yeah?” he breathed against your lips, and you could feel the curl of his smile. You opened your eyes to peer into his own, unable to contain your own smile.

His lips returned to yours, and you melted into him. All that weight had been lifted so easily. All the rage had dissipated into nothing, being replaced with a warm, glowing light that filled your chest and threatened to burst.

This was all you wanted – to be content. To be happy.

You didn’t want to spend your days, awaiting an early death that would never come, nor did you want to waste it being burdened by the past that haunted you like a demonic spirit. This felt right.

When more and more feeling poured into the kiss, it shifted into something more starved, like two lovers who’d been separated for years. While you were falling into it, Simon was reluctant. Pulling away from you, you had a brief moment of uncertainty before he spoke.

“I don’t want to rush you like I did last time,” he explained gently. “The last thing I want is for you t’feel pressured. I’m not here for only that. M’here to fix this.”

“Simon,” you murmured, a warm smile on your face. “I know you aren’t. I want to do it. Is that okay?”

Simon stared at you for a moment, weighing out his options. While having sex was part of the reason the two of you ended up in this mess, it was the part after that really played a role. This time, things would be different.

“‘Course that’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured, returning your smile.

He was careful in guiding you to your room. While anxiety weighed heavy on his mind in messing things up further, he was determined to ensure that wouldn’t happen. The power was in his hands, and he’d use all of it in order to make you feel the love you deserve to feel.

Peeling off your clothes was a slow task. He took his time, reveling in the warmth of your skin, guiding his hands across every inch of flesh. He was worshiping you, showering you in praise and care. Sweet and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured affectionately, lips pressing to your cheek, then jaw, then down your neck. You were laid out for him on the bed, looking like a goddess bathed in light. “Don’t know what I did t’deserve you.”

“Simon,” you whispered, feeling tears spring in your eyes. Noticing, he lifted himself up, brushing the pad of his thumb softly over your cheek, swiping away the stray tear. He smiled down at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

He didn’t leave you waiting, but he certainly didn’t rush either. He worked diligently in stretching you open on his fingers, curling into that familiar spot that had your breath catching and your back arching beautifully. Your moans were spoken sonnets that blessed his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to hear them for the rest of his life.

Simon didn’t stop his notions, working you open until you were a squirming, crying mess, kissing away your tears while drowning in bashfulness at the sight of your pleasure. You deserved to feel good, and he’d die making sure of it.

When he lined himself up with you and slowly pressed his cock inside until he was at the hilt, buried in your moist warmth, he let out a blissful sigh, knocking his forehead against yours. He didn’t tear his eyes off of you, watching every flicker of euphoria that flashed in your eyes when he moved his hips. Unlike last time, his pace was slow yet firm, allowing you to bask in the delicious feeling of his cock pressing against the gummy walls of your cervix with every thrust.

“I love you,” he breathed through a sigh, brushing away a strand of hair that stuck in a sweaty mess to your forehead. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. M’so lucky.”

You whimpered as he showered you in praise, wiggling from under him. The pleasure mixed with brimming love had you close to orgasm, clenching around him in a vice. He panted with you, breath fanning your face, only getting cut off when he’d lean down to kiss you.

It was a wonderful display of intimacy. This wasn’t just sex. He wasn’t ruining you, he wasn’t leaving you broken. He was leaving you overflowing with promises that he had every intention of keeping.

Simon swallowed up your moans with lips pressed to yours, fucking you through your orgasm, whispering sweet encouragements. He filled you, sealing those promises, his spend mixing with yours and bringing the two of you together as one.

Breathless and spent, Simon tangled you in his arms and legs, holding you close to his chest so he could feel your warmth against him. It brought him comfort and security, like a blanket being lovingly placed over him and consuming him in a snug embrace.

It was silent for a long time after, but neither of you minded it. You relished in the feeling of one another, and words weren’t needed.

“You’re not going to leave after I fall asleep, are you?” you whispered, breaking the silence with a brief moment of weakness. Simon shifted his head to look down at you, lifting a hand to cradle your head and card his fingers in your hair.

“No, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You nodded against him, snuggling closer to him, cheek pressed against his chest.

“You weren’t here to see me make it to two weeks,” you said softly. Though the reminder hurt to hear, you held no resentment in your tone, which gave him a sense of relief.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized with a frown. When you peeked your head up to look at him, his eyes softened. It was like looking at the most beautiful thing crafted on this planet, and he had the absolute honor of calling it his.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” you suggested, smiling cheekily at him. It enticed a laugh on his end, rumbling from his chest.

“How about instead of puttin’ a deadline on it this time, we keep count of the days that you wake up and accomplish seeing all the tomorrows. Deal?”

Your smile widened, and you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s a deal.”

IT'S OFFICIALLY OVER!!!! I am so sad because I had such an amazing time writing this fic and it will truly always be one of my favorites. so many of you enjoyed it and supported me through it, and I cannot thank you enough for all the love you've given me :,) I sincerely hope this ending is what everybody wanted and more. I love you all <3

[perfectlyoongi]

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who takes showers with you just for the intimacy. it was the silence of the moment, the purity of the intimacy, the way you two felt so comfortable with each other with something that had become so vile and perverse by society, that made Taehyung venerate your baths together; no words, just Taehyung's gentle touch across your body, as you rest on his chest and feel the tranquility of your love. “i like this, you know? of our intimacy. how none of us feel obliged to be something other than ourselves.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who only trusts your opinion when it comes to his clothes. before leaving the house or when he goes shopping, Taehyung always asks your opinion about his outfit, patiently waiting for your honest reaction, never feeling bad when the feedback comes back negative — after all, he just wanted to continue to impress you, it was only your opinion that mattered. “tomorrow i have to buy a new coat. do you want to come with me? i would like to have your opinion.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who loves coming home and lying down with you, his head resting on your chest. Taehyung couldn't live a whole day without having your affection; in an extremely stressful and quite complicated job, it was in your arms that Taehyung found peace and serenity, the way you touched his hair, his face, his arm, took Taehyung to a distant land of dreams and rest. “today was so tiring. all i could think about was how you would be here for me and make me feel good again.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who takes your perfume with him on tour, just so he can deal with missing you. it was a simple memory, something that could last the long weeks of touring the world without ever losing its value; your perfume was intoxicating, something so delicate and beautiful that made Taehyung remember all the hugs and kisses and caresses and moments he had spent with you. “i promise i won’t spend it all. please. i really need something that reminds me of you or i'll go crazy. seriously!”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who accompanies you on any and all purchases you make just to share some mundane time with you. whether it was for groceries or clothes, an electronic item or a gift for someone, Taehyung was always by your side, giving his opinion, holding your hand and always walking with a smile on his lips because he was next to the one he loved. “oh, do you need help picking a gift? i don't mind going with you. can i? i just want to feel normal for a moment. please.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who watches the stars and clouds with you while trying to discover shapes and meanings among them. lying on the grass, your head on his belly, you and Taehyung told stories with the various shapes you saw in the sky, laughter flowing as naturally as time passed, endless memories of tales created comforting your hearts. “that star is so bright! oh, and next to it those stars form a heart. see? even the heavens believe that our future will be bright.”

BOYFRIEND!TAEHYUNG who only said he loved you when you confessed first, a huge weight leaving his heart as soon as the words left his mouth. as soon as he heard your confession, Taehyung's heart began to beat quickly without having any time to assimilate what he just had heard, his words running after yours to try to embrace them. “oh, thank god. yes. finally. i love you. i love you. i love you so much. oh my god.”

[irndad]

hi im back! okey so def can see spencer still wanting to hug and snuggle with you even when fighting or mad at each other. he even gets genuinely ??? confused ??? when you try to sleep on the couch instead of in bed at night. he holds you and either reader or him is like "i know we are snuggling right now but i am still super pissed off at you." lol i can just see it. he may be petty when mad but he wont stop trying to touch you bc its a biological need of his and no argument is more important than needing you 🥺

enjoy this I did it very fast!!!! ily

He knows he’s not easy to be with sometimes. She would never say it, but it’s true. He doesn’t always get the jokes, sometimes pushes things too far and without even knowing it the ground gets pulled out from under him. 

And sleep- Sleep is so complicated. The memory of the first time she slept in his bed is etched into a place he could never erase. Spencer had always had trouble sleeping, either fear or alertness plaguing him into the late hours of the night. He used to lie awake, the kind of exhausted that feels like it’s seeping out of your bones, while constantly facts he’d unwittingly memorized about how sleep deprivation can cause brain damage. 

But then she’d come into his life. All soft words and gentle disposition, and there really is something magic about the way that everything just dissipates when her warm, soft body curves into his own. He’s slept well almost every night since. 

Except today, she isn’t coming to bed. 

It’s his fault, and he knows it. He wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t seen him for two weeks (and he hadn’t slept nearly enough without the weight of her form beside him since the last time he saw her) and she’d said that she wanted to be prioritized more. 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, Spence!”

His head was killing him. Was it actually possible, for a headache to kill you? Her voice is audibly upset, and it’s alarming how he could be the cause of it. 

“Please,” he had said through labored effort, “Can we talk about this later?” 

“When would you like to talk about it? Because I don’t ever know if you’re leaving-“

“Do you even know what it is that I do?  That it’s not a choice for me to go? I have to do this. I can’t pick and choose and honestly, I don’t want to. If you don’t get that, we’re not doing what I thought we were doing.”

It sounds foreign, his own voice. And it’s after he’s said it that the sick taste reaches his throat because oh, that means the end. Her lovely face is unreadable for a brief moment, before something like grief splays over her expression.

It’s silent for a beat, and Spencer wishes he could swallow the words back up, rewind his life like a battered VHS tape where he’s not so stupid to mess up the one thing that’s ever brought him peace.

“You’re not yourself, Spencer. I’m gonna give you a minute.”

A minute, it turns out, is hours in the living room. She hadn’t left, thank fucking god, but she hadn’t come back. Of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t the one who needed to apologize. 

He’s just so tired. 

He thinks of her so-sweet voice, the curve of cheek- the junction of her neck and shoulder, and how much he would like to have her pressed against him. He pads out into the living room like a nervous puppy, and sees her sleeping on the olive green couch she had picked out. Her hair was splayed across the arm of the sofa, and her head laid on a throw pillow, their fuzziest blanket draped across her form. 

His first thought is how low he’s dropped, that he’s jealous of a blanket. 

His second his that she is not coming to bed. He sits beside her gingerly, and the scent of her body wash lingers in the air. 

“Are you planning on coming to bed?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” He can tell she wants to sound cold, but the truth is much worse; she sounds guarded. 

“I always want you to.” It’s the most honest thing he’s said today, and it’s just not fair, how much he revolves around her. How he has waited 14 days, 13 hours and 34 minutes to hold her again and managed to ruin it within the first 20 minutes of having seen her again. He grabs her hand, soft and pliant against his in a way that almost makes his heart leap. “Please? Come to bed?”

Her gaze softens, the warmth and light that guides him back in her eyes, and he hopes his relief isn’t too visible. It’s then that she drinks him in. It feels too revealing like she can see right through him. His clothes are old. He’d rushed off the jet to see her, and the half moon circles under his eyes only lend to the unimpressive picture of himself. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, touching the side of his face. He instantly leans into it, the contact more than he’d be willing to give up to save his dignity. “Come here.”

She wraps her arms around him, and he pulls her into his lap, squeezing her tight to his chest, like she might disappear. 

“I’m still mad at you,” she says, looking at him with such affection it betrays her words.

“That’s okay,” he says into her collarbone, “As long as I still have you.”

[crustyfloor]

My night was going so wonderfully.

The headshot of this cover is just PAINFUL. They're actually acknowledging each other, they're the only ones on a cover to do that. And it's the prominent detail that Mizi looks horrified staring at Sua, even though they're clutching each other so... like they can't let go, while Sua looks reverent in the lane of that gaze, even blushing, slightly, savoring the moment. This also looks like their kiss scene...

To me, she looks just the same as the day she died because I think this cover is Sua's haunting of Mizi, because Sua's singing is just that, haunting and distant the longer she sings, she's fading out, but so gently despite its gruesomeness. And Mizi is grieving.

She's as angelic as she is in Mizi's memories..

But there's a cruelty to this because Mizi will never forget what she saw in round 1, that's why seeing Sua over and over and over again terrifies her, hence why the tone of this song is SO dark, especially in the second half when they're coming to a close, they get desperate to keep each other close, and there is a certain, but familiar ignorance to Sua's presence as if she can't see Mizi's pain even though Mizi is crying right in front of her--childish egos, Sua becomes a more honest character after her death, and in more expressive formats like this, and I like how she takes on that position in this song, the taker. (Like Till, he wanted a security blanket out of Mizi; Sua is similar in that sense.) as she takes and wants from Mizi for her own sanity.

And this newest illustration, oh my god. EXPRESSES THIS IDEA PERFECTLY, Sua looks so utterly distant, ghostly, dead.

In contrast to Ivan and Till's cure, Mizi and Sua's cure is more of a duet, and they switch places often. Mizi starts the song, she ends the song (just like in my clematis), and Sua supports it. Whereas Ivan and Till take turns leading and harmonizing, Mizi and Sua both participate.

And I believe they're interacting? Ivan and Till's cure wasn't a message to each other, something a lot more complicated than that--but Mizi and Sua transition frequently and it feels like they're singing to each other, It's more intimate.

Mizi - Allow me, to the tips of your finger

Allow me, to the ends of your feet

Dissolve me in your gaze

I don't want to let you go.

Sua - Please, leave me scars

Please, hurt me so that not a singly drop of me remains

Let me drown in you.

(The backing vocals mean so much to me, it's like a choir(?))

Mizi - Until these falling stars

Are buried in the blur of time

On your icy lips

Read my soul, yes, my soul

It wasn't spontaneous for the sake of it either, because this is a call-and-response

Sua - Even if your cold words

Carve scars beneath my eyes

May they linger on your tongue

You can break me apart

Mizi - Notice my pain

And mend me right now

To quiet my fears

I'll drown in you

-

Mizi is directly asking Sua, or the version of her she can't forget, to stay with her, calm her like she used to, as she wishes to have remained in the dark, to drown in her, or to have just not been left alone and, because even now Sua's death is not something she can accept, the portrayal of her feelings as she expresses her pain and desire to keep Sua close, even the false presence of her "On your icy lips" and "notice my pain and mend me right now" even though It's terrifying her, she doesn't want to let go.

Sua acknowledges Mizi's pain, and their shared pains after she died for her, the blame and the betrayal. Interestingly, Sua takes on the metaphorically self-destructive lyrics, Sua lives in fear, anxiety, and utter gloominess, she didn't want to be hurt by Mizi in the literal sense, but she would've rather been warmed in Mizi's soft light, her false hope and optimism, to be destroyed and to destroy Mizi's hope, even dying as the penalty of their love was far better.

Then Sua goes on to sing through the perspective of Mizi and her loneliness and grief after losing her with perfect clarity, it takes me back to the comic where Ivan scolded Sua about her plan, saying that she'd be nothing more than a trauma to Mizi after everything is said and done, she got upset at Ivan because she knew that, was devastated by the fact that she would be a burden just as she always feared, but then, what's a life without Mizi by her side, her only safety net? Her every reason for living?

This song displays their deep love and devotion, they sound melancholic but even in these horrific circumstances, Mizi's pain and hesitance, they don't drown each other out, they move together in perfect harmony just like they always do, in this way, it also feels like an apology of sorts from both sides before the bitter end, and a final goodbye.

AND THEN AT THE END WITH THE PERFECT SYNCHRONIZING OF THEIR VOICES ARGHH

And a new Sua illustration for the occasion 😭💔 (I'm gonna catch you soon Vivinos just wait.)

[slaybestieslay946]

Oh me gosh can you please do a Luke Castellan x reader fic where he’s just so head over heels for her but she’s so clueless and everyone keeps trying to get her to notice but she won’t and like they’re bests friends🤗🤗

tysm for ur request! if you don't mind I tweaked it a bit so its annabeth and percy trying to set up Luke and reader! hope you enjoy!

KISS THE GIRL

word count: 2000

pairing: Luke Castellan x poseidon!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: Even though this is a daughter of poseidon fic, its not part of my future au! for Luke.

MASTERLIST

Percy and Annabeth were standing at the edge of the amphitheatre, talking about something mindless when they spotted you and Luke walking towards the entrance, seeming deeping engaged in conversation. 

Annabeth watched as you laughed at something Luke said and a light blush tinged his cheeks, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Could he get any more obvious?

“Oi, Perce,” She whispered, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” She asked, nudging him to look in the direction of the pair of you. 

“Yeah, I see my sister with Luke, what about it-” It appeared the realisation finally struck him, “Oh my god, are they-?” 

“I don’t know. He’s definitely into her, I know that.” Annabeth mused, inspecting the pair as they grabbed two wooden swords and began sparring together, laughing as they repeatedly dodged and side-stepped the other. 

“He told you that?” Percy asked, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. 

“Well, no. But it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?” 

Annabeth then gasped in realisation, startling Percy slightly before he realised it was just another one of her epiphanies. 

“We should get them together!” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Isn’t that something you leave up to Aphrodite kids?” Percy asked hesitantly. 

“Battle strategy and romantic strategy aren’t all that different.” She shrugged, before dragging him off to draw up new ‘romantic’ battle plans with her. 

STAGE 1: CONFRONT LUKE

Annabeth’s strategy wasn’t all that complicated, and she was pretty certain the most difficult part would be getting Luke to admit his feelings. But, as it turns out, he cracked pretty quickly. 

“Alright, you got me.” He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender, “I do like her, but can you blame me? I mean, she’s so smart, and beautiful, and kind, and-”

“That’s enough lover boy. Cool it.” Percy said, cutting him off with a groan. As much as he had given Annabeth his blessing to go along with this crazy plan, he still didn’t want to hear Luke gushing about how hot his sister is. 

“Sorry man.” Luke chuckled awkwardly, before the pair of boys turned back to Annabeth to lead the conversation. 

“So, now that you’ve admitted it, we need to start brainstorming how we’re gonna get you guys together.” She said, clapping her hands together and producing a roll of paper, with a long list of ideas that she promptly began to read out. 

The list ranged from pretty normal things like ‘take her out on a picnic’ to insane stuff like ‘bring her a monster's head as a gift’. Luke wasn’t so sure you would be a fan of that one, but he had to admit all the other items were pretty good ideas. 

“So what do you suggest, Annie? Work our way down the list?” Luke asked, and his little sister nodded, before outlining which ones she thought would be best. 

“We should start small, you don’t wanna freak her out,” She consulted the list again, thinking to herself, “Ah, here we go, ‘Give her a compliment’.” 

“Ok, I think I can do that.” Luke grinned, his head immediately flooded with things that he loved about you. 

“Just don’t make it weird, or I’ll revoke my blessing.” Percy grumbled, his arms crossed as Luke laughed sheepishly again. 

“Will do.”

STAGE 2: START SMALL

The next week mostly consisted of Annabeth and Percy spying on you and Luke at any possible moment. 

The first of his tasks, to give you a compliment seemed to go well. The pair of preteens watched on from their spot behind a tree as the pair of you separated to go to dinner, and Luke complimented your hair. You blushed slightly, and smiled widely, before rushing off to your own table in the dining pavilion. 

Luke quickly whipped around to look at Percy and Annabeth who gave him enthusiastic thumbs ups. 

His next task was to give you a small gift, and he decided that it should take the form of the matching charm bracelets he made with the younger kids. Annabeth and Percy sat with him as he deliberated over specific colours and shapes of bead, until they were nearly sick of his equivocation. 

But, as much as watching him make it was downright annoying, Percy had to admit the way you both wore your charm bracelets everyday afterwards was pretty cute. 

The final task of the week was to bring you flowers, and that whole day Luke could be seen wading through fields of wildflowers looking for the perfect ones to add to his bouquet. This was then snuck onto your nightstand later that night by Percy, who over the course of the week had become very invested in your blossoming relationship, a fact he would deny to the ends of the earth. 

STAGE 3: ESCALATE

“Alright Luke, time to bring out the big guns.” Annabeth announced, before clearing her throat and reading the list of tasks for the week. 

‘Sit at her table during dinner’

‘At least one compliment a day’

‘One instance of arm-around-the-waist contact’

This was the point at which the Hermes boy began to get slightly nervous. The other stuff before could be pretty easily written off as friendly, but sitting at someone's table at dinner? Only couples did that. 

“Are you sure that’s not moving too fast, I mean-”

“Luke Castellan, don’t be so damn pathetic! Grow some balls, before someone else steals your girl!” Annabeth exclaimed, whacking him over the head with the list. 

He nodded, “Yes Ma’am.”

From then on, he was pretty much unwavering in his determination. He sat at your table every mealtime, slinging an arm around your shoulder, or your waist. Anytime you came up with a capture the flag strategy, he’d praise you intelligence, anytime he saw you, he greeted you with a ‘Morning beautiful’ or a ‘Hey sweetheart’. 

Annabeth and Percy were shocked with his sudden progress, but pretty impressed with the way it was going. At this point, the pair of you were practically dating. 

The only minor setback came in the form of your complete and utter cluelessness. 

Percy had decided to test the waters with you, and gently float the idea of you getting together with Luke. 

“You’ve been spending loads of time with Luke at the moment.” He remarked casually as you both walked back to cabin 3. 

“You’ve just noticed I spend time with my best friend? Well done kid.” You laughed, ruffling his curly blonde hair. 

“That’s not what I meant.” He rolled his eyes, ducking out of your grasp. 

“Then what did you mean?” You asked, hands on your hips, a confused expression on your face. 

“I meant like, you guys being ‘involved’.” He shrugged, trying to make it sound as nonchalant as possible while looking out for your every reaction. He was unreasonably invested at this point, but oh well. 

“What?!” You exclaimed, your voice suddenly going higher pitched, “Nah, no chance! Luke would never.” 

Percy had to stop his jaw from dropping to the floor. It would’ve made sense if you denied having feelings for him, but to be so oblivious of how whipped that boy was for you? He thought you were smart. 

“Yeah, sure. I guess so.” He shrugged once again, before swiftly changing the subject. 

STAGE 4: KISS THE GIRL!!

“Guys, we have a problem.” Percy said, bursting in on Luke and Annabeth’s conversation the next morning. 

“What?” The pair asked in sync, concerned expressions on their faces. 

“Y/N is an idiot.” 

“Woah, don’t say that about her-” Luke began, desperate to defend your honour, but was cut off by Annabeth’s harsh glare. 

“What do you mean, Perce?” She asked, her tone level. 

“Luke, man, she has no clue you like her. Like she is convinced it’s impossible.” Percy explained, and Annabeth’s expression also grew confused. 

“Gods, she really is dumb.” She sighed, ignoring Luke’s chiding at insulting you, “We’re gonna have to really turn it up a notch. Luke, it’s time to really bring out the big guns.”

For the next few days, Luke, Annabeth and Percy spent most of their time rushing around preparing for Annabeth’s so-called ‘masterstroke’. 

And then, after much hard work from the trio, it was ready, and Luke was whisking you away from the campfire to the surprise he had prepared for you. 

“Luke, where are we going?!” You laughed as he dragged you along by the wrist, a piece of cloth tied around your head to block your vision. 

“You’ll see.” He chuckled, gently directing you around a tree root as he led you deeper into the forest. 

“I swear, if you’re kidnapping me I am not going to be happy.” You teased that infectious smile he loved so much covering your face. 

“No, no kidnapping tonight.”

You continued to joke around together as he led you towards his destination, until eventually you came to a halt, and he was untying the cloth around your face. 

You gasped in delight as you saw you were by the pier, and in front of you was a picnic blanket set up with all of your favourite food and drink. 

Immediately you grabbed him by the arm and led him to the blanket, thanking him all the way and gushing about how sweet and amazing he was. Meanwhile, Luke was trying not to pass out from the barrage of affection you were giving him. 

The pair of you quickly tucked into the meal, laughing and joking. But all the while, Luke was preparing his confession, and trying not to let his palms get too sweaty. 

Eventually, he decided it was time, and he made his move. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yeah?” You looked up at him with shining eyes, and he had to remind himself to breathe. 

“I’m in-” His love confession was cut off by the sudden boom of fireworks above you both, and he silently cursed himself for forgetting to organise a signal with Annabeth to start them. She really did have bad timing sometimes. 

“Oh my gods! Fireworks!” You exclaimed, nudging Luke to take a closer look, pointing out which ones were your favourites, and clearly any speculation about what Luke was going to say had escaped your mind. 

Eventually the display was over, and you turned to him yet again, gushing about how lucky they were that fireworks were out tonight. He couldn’t help but wonder how someone usually so smart could be so clueless?

“I organised the fireworks, Y/N.” He said, softly, placing his calloused hand over yours. 

“What, really?!” You blinked owlishly at him for a moment before furrowing your brows and asking, “Wait, how come?” 

Luke couldn’t contain his chuckle. 

“Isn’t it obvious by now? I’m in love with you. I’ve been trying to hint at it for weeks, but clearly I wasn’t being obvious enough.”

“What? Why?” You stammered, shock coating your face entirely. 

“Why am I in love with you?” He asked as if it was a stupid question, which to him it was, because he could list a million things that he loved about you. 

“Because you’re beautiful, and smart, and kind, and generous, and every time I see you I can’t help but smile because you're my best friend and I love you more than anything.” He rambled, wiping his slightly clammy palms on his cargos. 

“Now I’d really appreciate it if you’d put me out of my misery and reject me.” He said sheepishly, itching the back of his neck. 

But, of course, the rejection never came. Instead you were rushing forwards to hold his face in your hands and kiss him, slowly and deeply. 

And, about ten metres away, Annabeth and Percy could be seen high-fiving behind a tree, before skipping back to the campfire in glee.

[wasitforrevenge]

oh sweetheart pt 3

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 5.4k!!! longest part yet yay

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: dealer! boxer!ellie, weed, alcohol, boxing, kissing, joel is dead in this, talk of abusive relationship, smoking, they’re drunk but eveything is consensual ofc! lmk if im missing anything

summary: you and ellie share a moment and both of you admit it :)

author notes: hi everyone thank you for all the love on this series <<<333 this is a good one! not all the way edited yet but i wanted to post cause i finished it 20 minutes ago! sorry for the wait but i think maybe some smut in the near future ;) requests are open and id love any feedback. thank you for 200 followers and over almost 2000 likes!! this is unbelievable and im so grateful! pls let me know if u want to be added to the taglist!!!

part 3 | part 4

series masterlist | main masterlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

finally friday is here, it feels like you’ve been counting the minutes until you see her again. you woke up around eleven am and put water in the kettle to make yourself some tea as you went to the bathroom to get your morning routine done, paramore playing over your speaker in the bathroom. your routine is something you’ve started to build since you moved to try and keep your anxiety at bay, not all the time it works but its a good way to get your day started. you started with washing your face, brushing your teeth, then brushing the bedhead out of the mess you call hair.

a couple minutes later, you hear the kettle hiss and you make your way back to the kitchen and turn off the stove. you picked your favorite mug out of your cabinet and make your tea. leaving the kitchen, you went back to sit on the couch and think about a million different outcomes that would possibly happen tonight when you see her. you wonder if you’re reading too much into the way she talked to you, was she even flirting with you at all? or just being nice? did she just feel bad about seeing what happened outside her gym?

your phone buzzed in the mist of your thoughts on your and you read a text from dina telling you they’re leaving for the gym around 7 and if you wanted a ride. before responding you pulled up the weather app on your phone and decided you could walk there, its a warm summer day out again and by the time the sun fell, it would be cool enough to walk and it was only about 15 minutes from your house, that and leaving open the possibility that she would want to drive you home again.

you texted her back saying that you would just meet them there. you looked at the time seeing its about eleven thirty so you still have a while until you have to leave. you decided you were gonna be productive today. you did laundry and washed your sheets, did the dishes, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and made a sandwich for lunch even thought by now it was 4 o clock. as you were walking around your apartment, you made a mental note to try and find some nice thrift stores around to help you decorate your place. you made your way to your bathroom to shower for tonight.

you love taking long showers, its your guilty pleasure. thanking god that your landlord pays your water bill as you dried off from the shower, put on your strawberry lotion, a big black t-shirt and fuzzy socks to hang around in while you did your hair and minimal makeup. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her tonight. new girl was playing on the tv in your room as you finished the final touches on your face. doing light everything since its hot but still wanting to look nice for the occasion: finally seeing her again.

four episodes later and its 6 o clock so you change into a pair of black levi shorts and a green top. your hair and makeup still looked good from earlier so nothing to touch up but you still triple checked yourself. you wish you could have smoked today to help beat the nerves but you wouldn’t have anything until tonight, smiling to yourself thinking of you and her on the phone both laughing when you asked if she was bribing you. you slipped on your converse, grabbed your bag, and locked the front door behind you and started making your way to ellie’s gym.

you got there around seven and you didn’t see jesses car yet but you did see hers. ellie’s beat up 2000 green honda cry sat in a spot towards the back of the parking lot. memories of you leaning on her window practically admitting you liked when she called you sweetheart and the peaceful feeling of comfortable silence you both held.

you heard someone call your name in the distance to turn and see dina getting out of the car, you were so concentrated on ellies car you didn’t even see them pull in. you made your way over and greeted them with a hug as dina wrapped your arm in hers and dragged you in with her, jesse following behind. you tried to calm your nerves but it just wasn’t working. not nervous about being here, even after what happened outside with the man last time, but of seeing her again. you’ve only spoken to her a handful of times but you thought of her more times than you can count.

as soon as you made it closer towards the front door, it was loud, like the first time you were here. loud people, loud lights, loud everything but now knowing it was ellie’s changed it. jesse held the door as dina went in first and you both followed. florescent lights beamed from above you, shining on the sweaty bodies in the gym. it was just like it was the first time you came. your nerves followed you everywhere, but it was worth seeing her again.

you went in and dina guided you guys to the same table you had last time. you wonder if they sit here every time. you looked around for ellie but you didn’t see her anywhere. you saw her car so she has to be here.

dina and jesse got up to go get drinks from the makeshift bar while you sat and waited for them to bring back your drink. you looked over to them waiting their turn when you heard something behind you.

“hey sweetheart,” she whispered close to your ear, and before you could respond she pulled out the the seat next to you and sat down.

“hey ellie,” you said almost startled. she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a black t shirt and all her tattoos were showing this time. it was almost mind blowing seeing her and you couldn’t even explain what it did to you. you don’t understand why a girl you barely know has this effect on you.

“i told you to call me el,” she said and laughed kindly towards you, “i have the stuff for you” she finished.

“oh thank you, i’d hope so considering that’s the reason i came,” you joked.

“wait you mean you didn’t come to see me?” she said sounding fake hurt.

“that was just a plus,” you flirted. dina and jesse came back to the table with the drinks before she responded to you and they both greeted ellie as they sat.

“hey els we didn’t see you before we ordered the drinks, i can go get one for ya?” jesse asked her.

“nah i’ll wait til the next round, thanks though” she told him. she smiled at you and the conversation started between all four of you, before you knew it an hour and a half passed, you had more three more rounds and just enjoyed your friday night. the match started and you find it so convenient that you can still see the ring from where the table is so theres no need to get up and watch considering its not ellie up there.

you watched for a bit until it was coming to the end, cheering erupted and ellie told dina and jesse that she was going out for a smoke, before she got up, she leaned over to you and whispered “you coming sweetheart?” softly in your ear, her face inches away from yours, then she moved back and smiled. she held out her hand and you held it as she pulled you up with her as you blushed so hard, you swear you turned into a tomato.

your eyes stayed on her hand holding yours and the beautiful moth tattoo covering her arm, not believing that she’s actually touching you again. you followed behind her as she moved with you through the gym towards the door, as you walked out still hand in hand you saw the side of the building, it was the same place she defended you the first time you met her.

she lead you over to a bench that you never even realized was there. your hands broke as you both sat, she went pull out her cigarette pack and the lighter from her back pocket when she noticed you were staring at her still. she smirked as she opened the pack, and surprisingly pulled out a joint. she put it in her mouth and brought the lighter up to it before telling you “its not polite to stare sweetheart.”

you blushed and looked away as soon as she said it. she laughed and she passed the joint to you, you told her you just couldn’t help it. and you really couldn’t, she’s breathtaking. the way her freckles danced across her whole face, her eyes had a small tint of brown circling her iris, the scar on her right eyebrow, the way her lips just sat perfectly on her face. you so badly want to reach out and touch them again.

you hit it a couple times, you are sure your cheeks haven’t been back to normal since you saw her and you wonder if she’s noticed. you passed her back the joint and she staring at you taking in every detail of you too as she brought it to her mouth and took a hit. blowing out the smoke she smirked, and said “i can’t either sweetheart.”

she leaned back against the bench, legs spread a little as she handed you the joint and asked, “so what brought you here besides jesse?” she acquired. you told her about living in brooklyn, above the cafe you worked and how your time spent there wasn’t totally great but the real reason was running from a shitty past, you weren’t ready to tell her specifics but you told her that’s why you left, you had to get away from what happened there but it was more like who. she told you she understood and then she told you “well i’m glad you’ve made your way here sweetheart.”

you don’t know if it was the alcohol or weed but you sat outside on the bench for another 20 minutes, smoking and laughing as you talked about so much: you talked about the tv shows you’re both watching, the albums you had on repeat, the guilty pleasures you both had and what you both did in your free time. you spoke to one another like you’ve known each other for years. it just feels so good to talk to someone like this again.

she learned that your parents live in portland, so moving coasts was a big deal but you felt like you were on auto-pilot growing up and you knew you had to get out when you could, she learned that you dropped out of college two years and haven’t made any plans to go back but you would like to. you told her a couple funny stories about you and jesse growing up and she laughed at them all.

you found out that she plays guitar and that she spends time drawing and journaling. you learn that ellie was adopted when she was 14, she grew up in boston, and she has an older sister named sarah but that she doesn’t come around much anymore since she gotten married. she told you that her dad passed away from a heart attack about a year ago and since then, her and her uncle tommy.

“im sorry to hear about your dad els” you sympathized.

“its okay sweetheart, just fucking sucks sometimes.” she responded softly as she put the joint out next to her and slipped it back in her cigarette pack. instead this time she pulled out a cigarette and lit that this time. she slid it in her pocket before she stood up off the bench, offering you her hand again and said you should probably head back inside.

you grabbed her warm hand and stood up to follow her, you started the walk towards the side door but before she opened it, she turned around to you and faced you.

“hey sweetheart?” she asked.

“yes els?” you waited for her to continue, her hand still covering yours.

“im glad you came sweetheart, this was nice, i mean as nice as it gets sitting on the side of this place,” she laughed softly, you felt like she was closer than ever but maybe because you just wanted her to be, “you know, id love to do this again.. and maybe play you something on my guitar.. if you want.” she said almost nervously, feeling the urge to look away from you.

“i would love that els.” you said, looking up from staring at your hands together to smiling in her face. you cant believe she asked you, part of you prayed she would, you knew there was a connection here. she realized it too. your eye contact never faded as you stood here.

“great, im looking forward to it more than you know,” she told you sweetly. she let go out hand and you felt slight disappoint in your heart as you assumed she was going to turn around and open the door and this moment would be over. instead, she brought her hand up to your face and let it rest on your cheek as she brushed her thumb over it. the touch of her warm hand sent sparks through your body this time and you couldn’t be bothered moving as she grew closer to you.

“you have no idea how much i wanna kiss you right now.” she whispered, from only what felt like two inches away from your lips. fuck, you thought silently. she was so close to you, you could feel her breathe as she spoke.

“please do it.” you practically whined, you couldn’t take this anymore. all you wanted to do was feel her lips on yours. after you spoke, you felt her thumb move from your cheek to brushing your lips softly. the drinks you had definitely brought out your confident and the want you had for her.

“oh sweetheart,” she purred towards you, “how badly i want to but it has to be more special than this.” she said moving her thumb back to your red cheek.

“just as long as it happens el,” you responded, breathing heavier as your nerves grew in anticipation.

she nodded as she slowly moved her hand off your face and brought it down to your hip and gave it a squeeze, still smiling at you as she reached to open the door and let you through in front of her.

you walk back into the gym and went to find jesse and dina. you saw jesse at the bar and ellie went over to him, telling you she was getting more drinks. you went over to dina at the table and took a seat next to her. you asked her how the match went and she told you same as always and nothing crazy this time.

“you guys were out there for a while, whats up with that?” dina asked while smirking and wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“dina…” you laughed, “we just smoked and talked for a bit.” you replied to her.

“sureeee that’s all, we see the way you look at her!”, she squealed, “and the way she looks at you, it just seems pretty obvious.”

you laughed and told her that nothing happened yet but you did admit to her that you wanted it to.

“stop we knew it!” she laughed loudly and hit the table in excitement. you pulled your hands to your face that was full of embarrassment.

“what do you mean you knew it, was it obvious?” you gasped. your eyes darting towards ellie at the makeshift bar.

“to me and jesse yes.” she told you still smiling over the fact that her two friends maybe starting something new soon.

as you went to reply, the drinks were on the table, jesse and ellie were back already at the table pulling their chairs. the conversation between you and dina came to a halt as you all started talking. you all sat, conversing and finished your last round by the time it hit around 11 pm. you were getting tired and you were definitely drunk after all the rounds of drinks everyone bought. the matches ended an hour ago and you guys were the last few people left besides the lady behind the bar and a couple stragglers paying their tab and chatting.

“hey i think me and d are gonna head out,” he said looking over to dina, who was definitely feeling all the drinks she had, he laughed and said, “this one needs to make it home into bed. can you make it home okay? i can take you now if you need” he asked talking to you.

“no i’m gonna take her home.” ellie cut in before you could respond. you looked at her and smiled as jesse told you to text when you both got home safe. he helped dina up and they made their way to the door. your eyes followed til they left and then you turned to ellie, who was already staring at you.

“that okay sweetheart? that i take you home again?” she asked smirking towards you.

“yeah els, that’s okay.” you blushed as she stood up and put her hand out for the third time tonight. you connected your hands again. touching her had your skin was burning up. you followed her into a back office. paperwork, receipts, and random things littered the room. as you looked around and saw a decent couch, a safe in the corner and a coffee area on a little table and a large desk with folders and boxes of things you didn’t know.

you watched as ellie disconnected your hands to go over to pick up her backpack from the side of the couch and then she grabbed a jacket she had hanging over the deck of the chair to the desk, she slid it over her shoulders then grabbed a piece of paper, writing something non legible from where you were standing. she smiled when she turned towards you and held her arm out motioning to the door for you guys to exit.

the stragglers were gone and the bartender bid ellie goodnight as she walked out the front door. you walked the distance of the gym and made it to the door with ellie, she leaned over and turned the lights off and then held the door opened for you.

you told her thank you and she nodded towards you, “i think we should walk, it’s not far from your apartment.” she spoke looking towards you for confirmation as she turned and locked up the gym for the night.

“that’s okay but how are you going to get home without your car?” you asked. you didn’t want her walking home alone either, you knew she could handle herself but still, the thought made you worry.

“i’m only 5 minutes away from you actually so its not far, ill be back for my car tomorrow.” she told you. you nodded and both of you continued to walk the sidewalk in a comfortable silence next to each other. you glanced up at the sky, noticing the stars and the way the moon beamed over the city. it was so much cooler now than it was earlier and you moved to brush over the goosebumps that covered your arms. ellie noticed your movement and took off her jacket. you turned when you noticed what she was going and told her, “no its okay we’ll be there soon i don’t need it.”

“sorry sweetheart, got to make sure you stay warm.” she smirked as she put it over your shoulders and watched as you put your arms in. you smiled to her as you readjusted it and continued the walk to your place. the smell of her engulfed you and you’ve never felt so comfortable.

“its so beautiful.” you whispered, “and quiet, new york was never like this. they don’t lie when they say the city never sleeps ya know?” you finished.

the city you moved to that you wish you could escape from. the shitty and abusive relationship you wish you could leave behind. the things you tried the most to forget. you never spoke about it, you just ran. the city you wished had better memories connected with it. but now all you want is to create new memories.

when you moved across the country, you told yourself that you’re not getting into anything here because you know you need to heal from the those years of abuse and insecurity so the last thing you expected was to meet ellie and end up feeling this way about her. you don’t want this to happen and you ruin it because you aren’t okay but with her, you feel like you could be okay one day.

“i could only imagine, boston was a busy place too but not the same, it always is quiet here.” she chuckled softly.

“i love it, things finally seem calm now.” you smiled as you looked her. she took in the sight of you in her jacket and she loved it. she can only imagine seeing you wear her t shirts… or nothing at all. she shook the thoughts from her head but she just couldn’t help it. you were the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. you were breathtaking. she couldn’t believe she’d met someone like you in this shitty small town.

the town where her dad and her moved, and the memories of them together haunted her. now that he was gone, she knew a piece of her was missing. things were incomplete without him. he was all she thought about, the guilt of what happened and how she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

the only time ellie wasn’t thinking about joel was when she was thinking about you, she was grateful that she met you. she didn’t know what this was going to turn into but she hoped it would be something. she sees the effects she has on you and she wishes she really knew how to communicate with you that she feels the same way about you.

you continued the walk in a comfortable silence, both of you wrapped in your thoughts of each another and eventually made it to the front of your building. you turned to face her with a smile,“here i am,” you spoke softly to her, not wanting the night to come to an end.

“here you are, thank you for letting me take you home sweetheart, call it peace of mind,” she admitted.

“thank you for walking me els… do you want to come up?” you said without a thought. you didn’t know if this is was the alcohol talking but you know you didn’t regret it when you said it and you wish that’s what you could blame it on but you knew you wanted this even sober.

“if you want me to sweetheart” she smirked as she responded.

you stepped closer to her as you looked at her, only a couple inches away from her face, watching her eyes move from your eyes to your lips. you knew you both could feel the tension.

“please just say yes.” you sighed wishing you could feel her lips on yours already.

“okay sweetheart, lets go.” she pulled away but connected your hands and it took you a second to recognize that she agreed. you turned around, suddenly nervous about the fact that she’s going to see where you spend your days. you opened the door to the lobby, and ellie held the door as you both walked in. she followed you up the stairs by the front, and you made your way to the front door as you held ellie’s hand in one and used the other to pull your keys from your bag.

you unlocked the door and you brought ellie in with you before the door was shut and you were locking it. you took off her jacket and put it on your coat rack and turned to look at her.

“okay it’s kind of a mess so i’m sorry but-“ you started before she cut you off.

“sweetheart, your place is practically spotless, you should see mine.” ellie laughed.

you laughed as you pulled ellie over to the green couch that took up a lot of your living room but it was a dream purchase and you loved it. you told ellie to take a seat as you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed some water for you both. as you were walking back towards her, she was digging around in her backpack. as you placed the waters down and took a seat, she pulled out weed in a jar and handed it to you.

“here this is yours.” she said.

“oh thank you! i totally forgot, do you want to smoke now- fuck i don’t think i have anything to roll with.” you told her as you went to open the windows in your living room.

instead of saying anything, she reached back into her backpack and pulled out a jar of already rolled joints.

“i came prepared.” she laughed, “and you won’t owe me anything for that.” she said, motioning to the stuff she gave you as her hands were cracking open the jar of pre-rolls.

“ellie- no i’ll give you the cash,” but she shook her head no and brought the lighter to the joint between her lips.

“no, it’s on me, don’t worry about it.” she responded as she took a hit.

“do you give other people weed for free?” you asked, looking at her as she was smoking while sitting next to you on the couch. you wish you could stay like this forever.

“only pretty girls that i like…” she said sweetly as you held eye contact as she handed you the joint.

“oh so you think i’m pretty?” you teased her as you took a hit.

“sweetheart, i think you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.” she told you. you instantly blush and look away from her, trying not to choke on the smoke you held in your lungs.

“thank you els, i think you’re beautiful.” you said to her. when you looked up, you saw her cheeks tint lightly as she grabbed the joint you held out to her.

“thanks sweetheart.” she said as she put the joint down on a cup at the table you’d been using as an ashtray and she brought her hand up and held your cheek like she did earlier. you couldn’t help yourself as you nuzzled your face into her warm hand. your eye contact only made the tension in the room worse.

“you really are beautiful… sweetheart, can i?” she asked as she looked down at your lips. you nodded and as she came closer, your lips just barely brushing, as she asked, “i need to hear you pretty girl.”

“yes please els- please just kiss me already.” you begged.

her lips were on yours before you could even realized this was actually happening. your lips moved slow together at first but you couldn’t help yourself from deepening the kiss as ellie brought her other hand up and tangled it in your hair as you moaned, her tongue slipped into your mouth, both of you tasting the weed and alcohol you consumed.

one of your hand rested against her chest and the other gripping her arm as you melted into the kiss. both ellie’s hands were in your hair now as your tongues continued to fight for dominance but you let her win and moaned again and she swallowed it as she kissed you.

ellie pulled your leg over her lap so you straddled her, never breaking your lips apart. your lips continued to move in sync as you grinded against her. her hands on your hips moving with you. your lips stay connected until you broke the kiss to come up for air and rested your forehead on hers.

“you okay sweetheart?” ellie panted as she caught her breath too.

“yes els just need a second.” you said as your eyes stayed shut while you tried to control your breathing. you couldn’t believe that you guys finally kissed. the tension was killing you both and now it’s finally happened.

“hey it’s okay, take your time sweetheart.” ellie said as she rubbed a hand along your thigh at a comfortable pace, brushing the cloth from your shorts as she moved it. she brought the other one up to your cheek and lifted your head to look at you. you looked tired and ellie didn’t want to take full advantage of you after you guys had been drinking and smoking all night.

“hey sweetheart, lets get you to bed, we’ll finish this another time i promise.” she said sweetly as you mumbled an “okay els thank you,” and moved off her lap to sit back on the couch. ellie stood up and offered her hand. you stood up and walked both of you to your bedroom.

you moved to sit on the edge of your king sized bed and ellie stood in front of you still holding your hand as you asked her if she wanted to stay the night because it was late and you didn’t want her walking home.

“sure sweetheart i’ll sleep on the couch, and only for your peace of mind.” she chuckled, thinking back to the conversation earlier.

“els we can share the bed, it’s okay, i’ll keep my hands to myself.” you joked and she laughed.

“i don’t think i’d be complaining if you couldn’t but i’m okay on the couch.” ellie insisted.

“els please just lay with me.” you said looking up at her as she moved her hand to rest on your cheek again.

“okay sweetheart.” she finally agreed.

you smiled up at her and you took ellie’s hand from your face and guided her into the bathroom connected to your room. she watched as you bent down and opened the sink cabinet and grabbed a toothbrush. you turned around and handed it to her with a smile. you guys brushed your teeth and then went back into your bedroom.

ellie stood here as you moved across the room to your dresser, and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts from your drawer and handed them over to ellie. she told you thank you and you smiled at her. ellie walked into the bathroom to change and you walked back to the dresser. you stripped yourself of your shirt and bra before throwing on a different oversized tee and changing your underwear. you didn’t even realize you were soaked after what happened on the couch.

ellie watched you as she leaned against the bathroom door frame as you untangled the sides of your underwear after you pulled them up.

“you’re perfect”, she thought in head before speaking out loud. “thanks sweetheart.” you turned around when ellie spoke, sending her a smile before you moved to your side of the bed, you grabbed the duvet and moved it so you both were able to get in your bed.

you and ellie laid facing each other in a comfortable silence as you were both growing incredibly tired. you felt your eyes starting to get heavy and felt ellie’s hand brush your hair back from your face so you kept your eyes open to look at her.

“el?” you whispered.

“yes sweetheart?” she spoke quietly back to you.

“i really like you… i don’t know if this is too early but it just feels right.”

“i feel it too sweetheart, i like you too so don’t worry,” ellie said softly, hand still holding your face, “now get some sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning pretty girl.”

“goodnight els.” you whispered.

[jeoncasino]

Prospects

⋆ †₊ 0.1

Tired of life and all it had to bring for you, things take a turn when you find out two of your friends start to take a liking to you. With newfound emotions and a whole lot of drama, what happens when they start competing for your love?

Pairings: JJK x fem! reader [x KNJ]

Genre: college au, love triangle, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn, eventual smut.

Tags: rich! jjk, law student! jjk, dark hair! jjk, sweet! jjk, jealous! jjk, needy! jjk, obsessed! jjk, but also dom! jjk, slightly toxic! jjk, english major! knj, boy bsf! knj, co-worker! knj, husband material! knj, brown hair! knj, sweet! knj, jealous! knj, sad knj:(, pet names, everything’s so complicated and everyone’s in denial, jk's love language is physical touch and acts of service, jk has mommy issues so he's too attached to oc, joonie is so sweet i feel bad for him, gguk will try everything in his power to make oc his, ggukkie lowkey hates joonie lol, this is an actual slow burn yay!

Warnings: mentions of drug use.

⋆ †₊ Series Masterlist

Minors do not interact.

Smoke surrounds you. For a moment, the noises and lights from the party, once a chaotic blend, seperate distinctly. Each sound creates its own frequency, each beam of light cutting through the haze in sharp lines. Everything around you slows down, the moment captivating you in a trance that would otherwise not been achieved without smoking a certain plant.

Elaine, your best friend, who was sitting to your left, seems to be talking to you. You can't quite grasp what she's saying, but she leaves shortly afterward, leaving you alone in the beautiful backyard of this otherwise dirty frat house. You really were avoiding going inside—the floors were sticky, and it smells funky. Honestly, you didn’t even want to be there. Frat parties aren’t your thing. But Elaine, in apparent need of de-stressing (though later confessing she just wanted to see her latest infatuation, Zia), had dragged you out on a Thursday night. You thought about getting mad and leaving, but she’s your best friend—and every guy here looks like they’d spike her drink—so you stayed. Plus, she bought you a blunt, so it evened out.

As you gazed at the dark-glowing canvas of the night sky, you felt a presence beside you. Skeptically, you glanced to your right, only to find a man staring at you. You jumped.

“Oh my god?” you gasp, eyes wide, hand over your heart.

The guy laughs, clearly amused by your reacton. Trying to figure him out, you took a look at him. He wore a loose white shirt and baggy jeans. Dark hair framed his face. Two rings pierced the right side of his mouth, his right arm covered in tattoos. Honestly, you felt intimidated—frat parties drew all kinds of people, you know? But when you finally met his eyes, the softness of his gaze made him seem far more approachable then you originally thought.

“Will you quit staring?” He teased.

Your cheeks burned. “Oh please, I’m on drugs,” you muttered, looking away, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I know. Thought I’d join you on your trip.”

Confused, and extremely thirsty, you asked, “Who are you?”

“Seriously?” He replied, somewhat annoyed. “Jeon Jeongguk. We share a class—U.S History with Mrs. Webster,” He paused, anticipating an answer. He met silence. “No?”

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m too high to remember anyone from that class.” Thinking it over, you added, “Seriously, though, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to you.”

And that’s because you hadn’t. Jeongguk, though quite popular, found himself completely partner-less tonight. He didn’t like being alone, so when he spotted you, high and alone, he thought he’d try his usual trick with you—pretending he knew you from somewhere. It usually worked.

Not today though. At your response, he was utterly offended. Did you seriously not know who the Jeon Jeongguk was? Even he recognized you—the sharing a class part not being a lie—so it made no sense. Although, he didn’t know your name either, so maybe you did know him, just not his name, and the drugs are clouding him from your memory.

Yeah, he thought, it’s definitely the drugs. “Did you know marijuana causes memory issues?”

You snorted. “Just say you’re offended.”

He shrugged. “What’s got you all alone out here?”

“My horny friend, I guess.” You turn to face him. “You?”

“I was taught to never leave a pretty girl like you alone,”

“Okay, Mr. Charming, please be serious.”

He laughed. “My friends ditched me too.”

“Hm,” You didn’t know what else to say. Usually, you were good at small talk, but you were literally in cloud nine and too thirsty to properly think. “Do you mind getting me some water? I’ve got cotton mouth and don’t want to go inside.”

“It smells wierd doesn’t it?” He scrunched his nose as he replied. You nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Many chit-chat’s and half a bottle of wine later—Jeongguk found it somewhere in the frat—you both bid goodbye with teary eyes and warm embraces, somehow convinced you’d never see each other again after this party. Both of you not letting go, Elaine and his friends have to literally pry you guys apart, causing everyone to fall comically like dominoes.

Attempting to open your eyes you rubbed them, immediately closing them as the morning sun assaults your vision. What even happened yesterday? Your head pounded, nausea swirled in your gut. You felt horrible. Trying to go back to sleep, you turned in your bed, feeling the dreaded build-up of saliva once you layed on your side. Uh-oh.

You rushed to your bathroom just in time.

“Elaine?” you half-yelled, wiping your mouth with your hand muffling your voice.

No response. You stumble out of your room and head for the kitchen. There, your find an already-ready best friend cooking god-knows-what.

Looking up at you, she said, “Good morning, Mrs. Jeon,” her tone dripping with mockery.

“What? Mrs. Jeon?” Confused, you try to piece together last night’s events, but it’s no use. Panicking, you exclaimed, “Oh my God, Elaine, what happened yesterday?!”

She looked at you unimpressed. “Oh, nothing much. Just that you and Jeongguk were all over each other yesterday!”

“Jeon who?” You asked.

“Be so serious right now,” She couldn’t believe you. “Y/n, he’s like, super well-known around campus. Rich as hell and a jerk.” She added, “Cheated on Jayla, rejected me when you bet me to hit on him for five dollars.” Elaine huffed with her arms crossed.

Recalling how hilarious that day was, you laughed so hard your headache worsened tenfold. “I might die if I keep laughing,” you stuttered, gripping the kitchen counter for dear life. “Is that why you don’t like him?”

“This isn’t funny! You guys made fools of yourselves last night. I genuinely thought he laced your drink.”

Drink. The word triggers flashes of last night—Jeongguk approaching you, him bringing you water, a bottle of wine somehow appearing in your hands. Blood drained from your face as you remembered how you parted ways—throwing yourself into his arms, him not letting go, literally shedding tears as Elaine dragged you out of the frat’s backyard.

You’ll make sure to never drink again after this.

“Elaine, did I really—”

“Yes, Y/n, you did! Do you know how embarrassing that was? Don’t even get me started on the reputation you just gained yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All his closest friends were there,” she said, serving her plate with freshly cooked eggs. “They thought you guys fucked or something.”

“Ew?”

“Did you really?” The question almost offended you.

“Stop! God, no, obviously not,” you shuddered. “Just because we hugged?”

“No, because Jeon fucks everything he touches,” she replies matter-of-factly. “He also got a little possessive, he wouldn’t let go.”

“Of me?”

“Yeah, we all fell to the ground because y’all wouldn’t budge. My biceps are sore, no joke.”

You slumped against the counter, hiding your face in disbelief. “Wait so, now people think I’m easy?”

“Yes. Now let’s just hope the rumor didn’t spread outside the frats,” she said, walking out of the kitchen with her plate full of eggs. “People were watching, you know? I almost left you there with that whore. Anyway, you better get ready—your first class starts in 20.”

You sprint to your room.

“Thanks for saving me a spot.”

Namjoon lifted his backpack from the seat next to him as you slid into it, placing your own bag on the floor.

“No worries, buns,��� he said, noticing your wet hair immediately. “Were you in a rush this morning?”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“Did you have a night shift yesterday? I don’t recall scheduling you late this week.”

“No, it’s just that Elaine dragged me to this party and I—” You stopped yourself. Were you really going to expose your half-secret to Joonie out in the open? Nuh-uh. “I’m just so hungover. Let’s talk later. Focus on class.”

Although curious as to what happened last night that got you this flustered, Namjoon chose to not push the subject, both of you focusing now on whatever the professor was droning about.

You liked that he always walked you to class. Obviously if his class was far or if he got busy he wouldn’t, but for the most part he did. You found it chivalrous, a trait that most men nowadays lacked. That’s why you liked Namjoon—he was friendly but polite, not shy to ask about your personal life but never stepping any boundaries. Not to mention his other great qualities, like how intelligent or hard working he is. You both had gotten originally close through Yeyo’s café—he trained and guided you along the harsh path of being a first-time barista—and having worked most shifts together, you became each other’s favorite co-worker, mingling whenever and hanging outside of work at times. At these occasional dates, the both of you learnt you shared similar struggles, like not having anyone support you financially or having complicated relationships with your families. All these things made relating to him easier. He never failed to make you laugh or help you see the good in the bad, and for him you were grateful.

Now you’re here—two months later, at the same university—him walking you to class while you complained about the workload your professor just assigned.

“I mean is he kidding? Not everyone has free time like him. I’ve got work!”

“I think his wife’s divorcing him or something,”

You gasp. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled at your reaction. “You know the professor’s assistant?”

“Oh, the one who wants you?” you teased with a grin, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

Namjoon elbowed you gently. “Stop it,” he muttered. You laughed at his flustered expression.

“Anyway,” he continued, eager to change the subject, “the other day, I stayed after class to ask her for some extra points, but she got off track and started telling me all sorts of things about him.”

“Like what?” you asked, leaning into him with interest.

“Why do you sound excited?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t act like you don’t indulge in professor drama,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you shot back, avoiding his gaze.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he teased.

“Okay, fine! Just tell me what she said, please,” you pouted, grabbing onto his arm, feeling the firmness of his muscles. You knew that whenever you did this, he’d give in—like that one time at the fair when you’d been so thirsty you begged for a water bottle that cost him twenty bucks.

He sighed, giving in as expected. “Well, according to her, his wife wanted a Chanel bag, but the professor wouldn’t buy it for her. Then, she thought he was having an affair, so she looked through his things, but she found out he lied about how much money he’d inherited, so now she’s filing for divorce.”

“Gosh, I almost feel bad for him,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. “Almost.”

“Meanie,” Namjoon grinned and squeezed your nose.

“Hey! Stop, you’re—” About to punch him for ruining your makeup, he darted away as fast as he could.

“I’ll kill that motherfucker,” you muttered, opening the door of your next class.

“And I was like, are you dumb?” Elaine exclaimed through the phone.

After your last class, you decided you’d stop by the nurse’s office to get something that would soothe your headache, when you recieved a call from your best friend. Though spontaneous calls weren’t surprising, what she had just informed you was.

Apparently, she met up earlier with Zia, who had the audacity to ask her if she found it embarrassing to have a friend who had slept with Jeongguk. And obviously, her being the bestest, most protective friend ever, denied the rumors going around the frats in attempt of clearing your name.

As you walked out of the nurse’s office and into the bustling campus, she continued, “And I swear, in that moment, I was about to punch her. I mean, I always knew Zia was a little dense, but this? Ugh, it’s infuriating! I don’t even know why we fucked anymore.” She sighed heavily.

You found a bench under a large oak tree and sat down, needing to process everything. You’d been too busy with classes to think much about the previous night’s events, but now, with the day’s tasks behind you, the anxiety started creeping back in.

“Did you guys actually fuck yesterday?” you asked, leaning back against the bench.

“No, we had literally just fucked at the sorority, when she started asking dumb ass questions,” Elaine huffed. “I think I’m never finding love.”

“Don’t say that, E,” you replied, rubbing your temples. “You’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Elaine’s voice softened. “How are you holding up, though? I’m sorry for everything. I can’t help but feel responsible,” she added, and you could practically see her pouting on the other end of the line.

You took a deep breath. “Honestly, I was too busy this morning to even care, but now that I have time to think, I kind of just want to hide from everyone.”

“I’m sorry. I love you, okay? Don’t forget that.”

“I love you more.”

“Well I got to go, I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

Listening to the ring which notified the call was over, you finally had some time to process everything. Trying to find where you went wrong, the most controversial thing that happened all night was the fact that you were hanging out with… Jeongyeo? Or was it Jeongyu? Uh, you’ll make sure to ask Elaine later. Anyways, you saw no harm from having an innocent chat with him. All you did was drink with a rich frat college guy— and basically cry to each other but that was too embarrassing to even think about—so your ever crumbling reputation made no sense. You guys didn’t fuck, most certainly didn’t kiss, and by now the guy should’ve cleared the rumors, so why were they making such a fuss over it?

It was all so childish. Yet, despite your attempts to rationalize it, your stomach churned, your hands grew clammy, and your mind raced with anxiety. Every passerby seemed to stare at you with judgmental eyes.

You sighed deeply. This felt like high school all over again. You had to pull yourself together. If these people wanted to make a fuss over nothing and use you as their entertainment, then so be it. You had bigger things to worry about—like paying your bills or pursuing a career. So, with that, you decided to push the drama to the back of your head and refocus on what really mattered, finally finding peace once again in your mind.

And at peace you were.

At least that was the case until you got back home, because as soon as you walked into the apartment, Elaine rushed over, breaking the news to you. “Y/n, you won’t believe this. That miserable old landlord is raising our rent!”

You blinked, trying to process the new discovery. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Elaine threw her hands up in frustration. “I begged him to exclude us from the raise, but he wouldn’t budge. He said it’s either pay up or move out.”

Trying your hardest not to kill him right now, you paused. What were you going to do now?

Trying to keep an optimistic outlook, you replied, “Look, I know it’ll be hard, but we can do this. Let’s just take extra shifts at work and start looking for an affordable place to stay at.”

She wasn’t sure about your proposition. You both worked long hours as is, not to mention how time consuming and disrupting it was for school.

“Y/n, we barely get to sleep some days,” Elaine said so lowly it was almost a whisper. Finding the situation impossible, she added, “I’m dropping out.”

You scoffed, “Are you crazy? You’re not doing that,”

“What else is there to do Y/n?” She frowned.

Lips pursed, you racked your brain trying to come up with a solution. Dropping out was not an option, and if keeping your education meant being homeless, then so be it. You both had a car, so maybe you guys could sleep there until you found a new place. And if you had to shower, you could probably just ask Namjoon if-

“Oh my god! Namjoon!” You yelled as you reached for your phone.

“What? Y/n what are you doing?”

Dialing Namjoon’s number, you replied with a smile on your face, “Pack your stuff, we’re crashing Joonies place.”

Author: pls this took me long enough to post and im not sure i even like it lmfoaoaoa. nobody told me how hard and time consuming this was. anyways yall if it sucks LMK ! i’ll make sure to burn this post down if it sucks ass. shout out to anyone who finished reading the first chapter of this series ! omm ilysm. i’ll also try to comment the people who wanted to be added to my taglist, hopefully it works. bye !

This is a work of fiction. The scenes, characters and events depicted are purely fictional and not intended to represent real-life procedures or individuals. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Do not use this story as your own.

@jeoncasino 2024 ©

[beescake]

PLEASE PLEASE MEGADUMP THE ARASOL!!! PLEAAASEE MR BEESCAKE I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU

HFHGHD GLADLY aaa i’ve been adding notes to it here and there for months but just hesitant to post it bcs im 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂

also this is just my own takeaway of the events, it doesn’t necessarily comply to the Ultimate Truth of Canon-Alignment or represent the actual facts of what hussie intended! v sentimental smh but hopefully its still interesting to read

i love when characters inform each other by proximity, it's one of my fave things to see in media :') it feels even more significant when two characters deliberately choose to stick together, so that when one operates, you can tell the other is similarly aligned in associative solidarity.

sollux is a keystone of this trope — whoever he aligns with is a wordless statement, a nod of approval. this stood out to me bcs the main four humans were alr friends by default, but once you reach hivebent you realize the trolls can actively choose who they want to hang out with.

and as we all know, after assessing every troll's biases/loyalties, sollux is the only one who maintains his selective preference for innately Good 👍 people.

aradia is such a beautiful character honestly, she evokes such incredible feelings in me. she might not have been consistently written with care but the best parts of her character are truly stunning. i think it's easy to remember sollux as the self-sacrificing one bc he's so open about it (and his friends frequently react to his Moments) but when you compare him to aradia, it's always struck me

how much more. raw it is

to be so alone as an agent of time, having to orchestrate immeasurably harrowing events nobody understands or gives a fuck about

with your role painted in the story as one who must tend to the needs of the narrative, responsible to match every next note

because when you're given the capabilities, it becomes your duty to carry it out.

it becomes expected of you to keep experimenting and arranging the machinations to work for everyone, dusting off hundreds of necessary failures to keep going

and having to be so unwavering in your drive knowing miserably that there's no one who can help you but yourself.

or alternatively: to make things fun! so other people won't think twice about letting you go off on your own.

sure she's had some very good buds, notably thanks to Team Charge v Team Scourge antics.

and yet, at the end of the day, the one friend that kept choosing her time and time again was the friend with the highest standards.

i can see why people like to define arasol as moirails/matesprits but surprisingly i find the nondescript, unlabeled aspect of their relationship more straightforward to understand.

there's no shortage of people who would accommodate sollux. most of the surviving trolls are his oldest friends bcs he’d chosen them well. his transparency with his feelings had built him strong friendships that won’t falter or break, regardless of how much of a dick he can be. they’ve already seen and accepted him at his worst, and they still like him for who he is.

contrast that with aradia, who'd been so approachable, friendly and reliable in her exchanges it was super fun to talk to her. but the moment she became depressed, all her connections broke down.

her friends became hesitant to interact with her (until she became god tier, “happy” and amicable again) because her gloom and resignation didn’t serve them. she dealt with it alone.

there’s def something of note here abt the disparity between the way male & female characters are written+perceived in homestuck (esp parallel arasol with davejade) but i won’t go into that lmaoo

with this in mind i like to think of sollux as a gift to her, a loyal companion given to complement and commend her resolve. she's capable of doing so much alone but hussie took the time to build her and sollux's relationship as one of a unit; a set.

the ambiguity of their status does complicate things, but i do believe it makes sense with their characters. aradia's relationship with romance is a rocky one, the dubious stringalong equius had with her is a pointed reminder that her feelings of attraction are ultimately controlled by the author writing her.

unlike the other trolls who can openly address and own up to their crushes, aradia had romantic emotions forced upon her (especially when hussie implies 'she kissed equius back on her own volition'). and it seems like her character is so intrinsically neutral abt attraction that even when forced by the almighty powers above, she's unable to retain it wholly.

however, looking back to pre-game when she could actually "choose" her own feelings, she did have a crush on sollux.

their soft spots for each other were so obvious to the point where other people could see it.

taunting aside, when vriska comments on their unit as bf/gf it actually informs the audience that arasol's relationship is romantic in nature despite not aligning with the quadrant system.

even while dead, aradia could still describe her care for sollux, expressing that she would like to see him happy. if they had more time to explore their relationship on alternia, it's possible they could've settled in a quadrant once they grew older.

but going back to the lack of labels, their dynamic was affected once more when aradia became god tier.

to me, her ascension was both the perfect culmination and possible closure of her character. it's the light at the end of her journey toiling through countless of timelines where she had to actively assess and participate. that's why it's cool to see her being silly and having fun giving guidance, passively exploring and watching other people do their parts.

and yet the joy of her freedom makes it hard to explore further introspection. if we take her by her word, she'd already come to terms with the hurt she's been through and forgiven those involved.

i can't help feeling attuned to how impersonal and detached it can be, to devote and meld your identity so completely with your designated position as Maid of Time until you've become hard for your old friends (and even some readers!) to personally connect to.

idk post-canon but i assume there’s some degree of similarity to be bridged here with aradia's god tier and how the hs2 humans' Ultimate forms was described as a consolidation of all their possibilities. since aradia's classpect is inherently of service to Time, going god-tier may have elevated her beyond personhood with the "game construct" possessing her entirely. sollux doesn't realize the extent of it bcs he's still mortal, but a part of him may have subconsciously understood this.

i think there is a core aspect to aradia that was lost to the dehumanizing glory of god tier — a core aspect that may have contained an element of why sollux enjoyed talking to her in the first place.

to him, aradia hadn't just been a nice girl, she was a cool girl. despite not having much in common, he's still willing to chill next to her so she's not alone while she does what needs to get done.

back on alternia, they held a mutual and equal-level regard for each other that could've definitely settled into something permanent. but now, he's placed himself in a position where he can be kept around or left behind at will. the parameters of the relationship are largely in aradia's court, so any label she suggests to identify their relationship with he's likely to accept.

but that's why it's so difficult to label it. because god tier aradia may not necessarily Want quadrants or relationship labels. rather than the initial romantic attachment, their commitment to each other had evolved into one fundamentally of companionship.

no label? ok fine. no matter what, he still thinks she's a good soul worth latching on to. the best, actually. aradia > everyone else.

even if it gets stilted at times. there's an unexpected struggle to connect when sollux's go-to default for talking points is his feelings about things, and aradia may not want to talk about emotions all the time.

not to mention god tier aradia became an observer, especially of chaos. but sollux's avoidance of involvement comes partially from his innate pressure to get involved if something goes wrong. and he can't always tell when something goes wrong, because aradia doesn't mind if things go wrong anymore.

it's a non-negotiable preference that causes them to take the occasional time apart, a new boundary that wouldn't have existed before the game and aradia's god tier.

but just like how his friends tolerated his moods, sollux accepts aradia as she is. with no quadrants, their connection doesn't break down because there's no implicit romantic expectations to be disappointed by or resentful over.

sometimes when i see hs content that deliberately distances sollux from aradia, i assume this is the dissonance people might have felt. people might find it "easier" to be cynical about them bcs of this strange tension.

but idc lmao. grab that shit by the neck

lack of easy resolutions and cleanly tied ribbons is pretty standard of homestuck and imo it doesn't make arasol's dynamic any less incredible. with the right affection and consideration, there's still so much potential to develop the nuance of their relationship outside of the popular quadrant-based depictions.

hs has a lot of really great character compatibilities but the way aradia and sollux are in their own special orbit is why i can write this much about them in the first place. it's that frail innocence between first loves that makes it so sweet to me, two kids who grew up too fast playing guesswork without being clear where they're going.

ultimately i do think you're meant to feel a little tragedy for just how much they care for each other, even if they can't quite establish it in simple terms.

maybe they keep taking breaks to progress their own paths. maybe they remain as anchor partners while seeing other people. but even if you decide to separate them, they're still (awkwardly) texting each other updates all the while. and when they reunite it feels like coming home.

and well. more than anything, i like to believe that they do want to be exclusive.

they're just afraid. after all, they're still learning how to love, beyond the projections of the foursquare quadrant system they had inadvertently distanced themselves from since young.

they might not have everything figured out, but they'll get there eventually if you just hold them together and write them there.

optional post-canon segment:

one of the limitations of main hs is that (monogamous) relationships are often written as the go-to solution to wrap up character growth; it's an easy "patch" to imagine characters getting their happy ending because they have a partner, and those who don't end up with someone don't get that closure (most notably jade).

hs2 reaffirms this by suggesting that aradia's character cannot progress without letting sollux go, because happily settling in a relationship automatically locks your potential.

that pathetic panel of sollux staring emptily into the sky is still my fave hs2 spoiler ngl i find the impact of their parting so emotionally provoking precisely bcs they were written in original hs to be each other's forever, coming back together again and again

but now, they're subject to the decisions of the post-canon authors who might choose to deviate from that.

it's not new for them to part, but now there's an underlying worry that her dropping him off this time might be the last time. while i think the prospect of shattering their stability to make them grow separately sounds fun on paper, no amount of me desperately hoping for a good execution is gonna guarantee it

idk. i guess prediction-wise im expecting sollux in classic dramatic-hs2 fashion to tell dave to back off aradia LMAO. otherwise it's just gon be sollux and karkat pathetically watching aradia and dave from a distance swimming in their unresolved feelings for narratively-powerful time players smh obvs it sounds corny as hell but who knows its still plausible

srsly tho i hope they take the opportunity to develop arasol's relationship in a fresh direction that doesn't hurt me too badly...... and i hope they force sollux out of his comfort zone. i like watching him struggle :-)

[starry-bi-sky]

"Stillborn? No, still born" Danyal au -- VLAD MASTERS THE BITCH HIMSELF

*Points at Vlad* THIS MFER GOT SOME TEEFS TO HIM. !! Okay okay, Vlad Masters in the stillborn au is different compared to most of my other aus in the fact that I am far more heavily leaning into his original ambitions of wanting a family and being desperately lonely. Because you know what wanting a family implies? Wanting to be a parent.

Fucked up father figure that could've been Vlad. Complicated love-hate relationship between the only two halfas in existence.

Danny hates Vlad, but he hates even more that he's genuinely considered his offers of mentorship. Vlad is the only halfa around, and they both have fire cores. Danny has these powers he doesn't understand, can barely comprehend some days, and can't control. But Vlad does. Vlad can. And Vlad wants to help him. He's the only other person who can get close whenever Danny runs too hot. Whenever his igneous hair cracks, splits, and spits back out into magma and his friends can't get close, Vlad can.

His hair is made of magma, which runs so hot that people need specialized suits in order to get near it. He physically cannot get close to the living as a ghost unless he's calm enough for his hair to cool into igneous rock. Which isn't as often as he would like. And sometimes he's too hot for other ghosts to get near unless they have fire cores -- which Vlad has.

There have been many times when Danny's having a meltdown (literally) and gone somewhere to be alone, to let his anger and hurt and loneliness overflow and spill out, that when he's come back to, Vlad's right there with him as an anchor. It's desperately frustrating, it's the only time they can get along. They don't say anything, Danny just turns and clings onto the only person he can touch as a ghost.

Its not fair. Vlad wants to kill his foster dad, and Danny can't let him do that. But he wants to be trained by the man, he wants his help and wants what he can offer. But Vlad can't step away from his revenge long enough to let him. It's just not fair. He thinks for a moment that maybe it could work, and then Vlad does something to remind him that no, it can't.

Vlad Masters sees too much of himself in Daniel Brown -- from the way he holds himself, to the defenses he puts up, his quiet anger that builds and builds and builds until it explodes. That simmers beneath his skin. All the way down to the fact that they have matching cores. This boy is cut from the same cloth as him, and by god does he want to help him. He's always wanted to be a father, and Daniel Brown is too much like him for him to ignore. He genuinely, truly cares about Danny and his wellbeing.

He wants to help him, child just let him help you. Let him kill your foster dad so he can adopt you himself and help with these powers that terrify and intrigue you -- he knows what that's like to have something that you can't control, to have a heat that you can't cool down from. "We're in the same boat you and I, let him help you please."

But his methods are all wrong, and Danny is too much like him -- stubbornness and all -- for him to agree when they oppose each other so greatly. But again, Danny is much like him -- which means that Vlad is equally stubborn, and in every single one of their fights he's parental. He's annoyingly parental. He drops his interest in Maddie to focus his efforts in trying to coax Danny onto his side. It's like trying to get a traumatized cat to trust you, and on some levels it works. It's like he makes some progress, and then moves too quickly and the cat immediately runs off and you have to start back from square one.

TL:DR; Vlad and Danny both want to find family in each other but they're too different to get along and ultimately they are doomed by the narrative to be at constant odds with one another unless one of them is changes, and it doesn't matter who.

[sukunasweetheart]

the urge to throw trueform sukuna into the shoujo manga genre....

(fem!reader, sexual undertones towards the end)

it would be so funny yet so beautiful...i also think he would look so great in that flowery, feminine kind of artstyle <3-

in terms of cliche shoujo love interest, he's a lonely immortal god who is against everything that supports the notion of love... until he experiences what true love is like, for himself. you're his little servant toy that he mingles with for some time, until he realises something's wrong with his heart...

i love him for what he is, but wouldnt it also be lovely to see him in a softhearted story?? the almighty and powerful, but grows weak in the knees all because of one woman!

one day, imagine if he, the most renowned selfish man, with complete disregard for others, who had always valued himself vastly more than anyone else, comes to a point where he sees you in the way of an unstoppable attack from the wrath of an enemy, and rushes in to tank the would-have-been-fatal strike in your stead...

it happened in an instant. he didnt even realise he was moving until he had already been hit. he's bleeding for the first time in a thousand years. he's hit, and it should hurt, it should feel unpleasant, because he certainly wasnt planning to be hit, nor did he engage in this fight for his own pleasure, but for your protection.

yet, he feels relieved. you're tucked behind him safely, looking up at him with worried eyes, and he feels relieved, all because a weakling like you is alive.

after he sends you away to uraume (who gives you the stink eye), he promptly kills the opponent but becomes a little weakened temporarily afterwards as a result of the powerful attack

he's absolutely grumpy about having to be bedridden for a few days for recovery, often stares down at you with unreadable eyes, like he's in deep contemplation about his own feelings

oh fuck me, he thinks, when he finds himself wanting to comfort you as you're in tears over him, even though he's the one that's hurt.

its a confusing sensation, feeling like shit but also not hating everything about being in the centre of your concerns. look at you, feeling so guilty, so worried sick, fussing over him. as you should. he mulls over the incident where he uncharacteristically jumped in to protect you... but he's not one to over complicate things for too long. he'll just continue to do as he pleases, just like before. and if that involves showing you some affection, kissing you, holding your hand, shielding you from his woes... then so be it. if he's the strongest, if he's a god, shouldn't he also be able to save such a frail thing as you?

he orders for your presence in his bed to keep him entertained, but he doesn't even say a word when you're there laying next to him, he's only just staring at you and giving curt touches, like your body is a plaything to him. maybe palms your thighs and breasts, but it doesn't feel sexual at all.

"it's not so bad, having you in my debt," he suddenly says, as sukuna plays around with a lock of your hair. these new feelings he harbors, intrigues him just as much as they irritate him.

"i do owe you my life..." you tell him in response.

"so you're aware. and? what will you do about it?" he asks you.

"i'm not sure, my lord... what would you like me to do?"

"how sly of you, turning the question back onto me."

he thinks about it for a moment.

"well, i suppose there's nothing you could offer me but yourself," he says as he slowly undoes your robe, the other free hand grabbing your face.

"...and your everlasting devotion, to me."

as he's about to sit up to continue, your tiny hand pushes against his chest in resistance.

"you mustn't exert yourself, your wounds are still healing, my lord," you protest, much to his annoyance.

"cease your fretting. movement of this degree isn't enough to hurt me," sukuna sighs, grabbing your wrist and pinning it down against the sheets.

"i... i can do the moving," you tell him with determination, which earns you can amused smile.

"...oh? now that's certainly worth considering," he says, slowly letting go of you.

you carefully get up to straddle the larger man, sitting yourself down on his hips.

"alright then, my brave little devotee. entrance me."

and you do just that for him, all throughout the night. (it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wont be the last)

sukuna learns all about how some fragile things are worth keeping around.

at first, the relationship revolves solely around his own pleasure and satisfaction. but as the ice begins to melt, he sinks into a trap in which he's seeking more and more to keep your own happiness and your beautiful smile in place. he begins to hurt when you're hurting. it was exactly as he feared - his life becoming molded around one singular person who's somehow crawled their way into his heart-- his heart that should've been sealed tight.

at times, when his teasing goes too far, and your bright expressions dissolve into sorrow, his own mood drops considerably and there comes seeping in a crushing feeling in his chest.

he lifts your face up by the chin and says; "i'm only joking. don't make such a pitiful face."

but when he realises that you were merely feigning your hurt, giving him a little cheeky grin, he flies into a quick, but playful anger.

"you little minx. i've spoiled you a little too much haven't i? you're getting ahead of yourself."

he proceeds to lift you up into his arms, an extra hand keeping your wrists together, as he aims to litter his bite marks down your neck and shoulder.

"aah! forgive me, my lord!" you exclaim, writhing around in his tight grip.

but there's an audible giggle in your voice.

Masterlist

tagging; @vagabond-umlaut @yuujispinkhair @satkuna @skunaskitten @sukunastoy @theprettyarachnid @sunshine7queen @gojos-thot-patrol

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER NINETEEN: DUCK

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, murder mentions

Read after the cut

---

“Family,” says Hannibal. “Let’s return to that subject today.”

You occupy the living room, each in a velvet armchair tilted with intent to replicate the layout of his office, the clever dressing of a theatre set. Attempts to put off this particular session had proved inefficacious, the coercion of your attendance rendering you curt and snappish in demeanor.

Truthfully you’ve been so since this morning, having rolled, coughing and vaguely feverish, from dreams of bodies hung rattling like so many clothes hangers in some subterrestrial den.

Hannibal, as expected, had still seen fit to persist with his agenda, weathering your complaints with a brisk good humour.

Will had made himself scarce sometime before you’d awoken, and has left word that you’re not to expect his return for many days. You yearn for him in all his brittle ferocity, a gabion against his friend’s subtle erosion of your mind as you know it. The early hour, the assault of unwanted conversation: such sly methods of torture will damn you to madness as quick as the murkiest secret.

“I’ve told you about my family,” you say to Hannibal, fingering a loose tuft of angora on your sweater. “Besides, you won’t even let me talk to them.”

“I don’t think that it would be to your benefit for me to do so,” he answers, and makes a gracious pretence of examining his pen.

Had you not extended a hand to Amy there would indeed have been a second call, this you’re clearly meant to understand. Hannibal is not above such trivial warfare, as he makes a continuing point to prove; you might be entertained by so comic a flaw were you not in such dire opposition.

“Maybe it’d be good for me to talk to my family,” you say, smartly. “And how can you know that it wouldn’t be when you barely know anything about them?”

Hannibal smirks, pleased to have cast such irresistible bait.

“Enlighten me, then. Begin with your mother, if you like. A predictable start, but in that simplicity rather less challenging than other avenues.”

You glance about the room as though seeking inspiration from it and find it wanting. Only the window at which the dying autumn presses its face wets the brush of conversation again, that symbol of fleeing dark brick to beyond a reminder that you must play on.

“We fight a lot,” you say. “My mom and me. She always has to be right about everything all the time. Never made a mistake in her life. Never apologises for anything. And if you criticise her— well, just don’t. Plus, she used to hit me when I was little. Nothing crazy, but still. She hit me.

“Then one day I slapped her right back and she never did it again.”

Pausing, you tug the hem of your sweater to your knees, an instinct to cover skin that today is not an inch bare.

“It’s funny,” you say. “She acts like she doesn’t remember any of it now.”

“Those in denial of their misdeeds often excise those shameful moments from the past,” says Hannibal. “It may not even be a conscious decision on her part.”

“It’d almost be better if it was. Then maybe she could own up to it, some day.”

Hannibal’s pen mars a fresh page in his notebook; even were it not upside down you suspect you’d fail to untangle his complicated hand.

“Has your mother’s behaviour caused friction surrounding your anorexia?” he asks.

“God, yeah,” you say, half laughing. “She used to yell at me. Tried to bully me into eating. Now she cries a lot and kind of makes it all about her. She loves me, but not in the ways you want in a mother. She pays for stuff. Drives me to places. Ticks all those boxes, you know? But she’s never been kind or comforting, really.

“It’s not all her fault. I guess she just doesn’t know how.”

A leaf falls against a windowpane like the hand of a dead, withered child, and you find yourself drawing back in your seat, wishing you’d the strength to push the chair against the wall.

“Why do you think your mother is unable to fulfil her role as you would like?” asks Hannibal.

“I guess my grandparents treated her the same way she treats me. They were always kind of cold with me when I knew them.”

“Generational cruelty is an infection one must wittingly sterilise. A pity so few are self-aware enough to administer that treatment. Was your father sufficiently conscious?”

Odd, this invocation of the paternal when Hannibal and Will have worked so diligently to embody it in place of your genetic relative.

Now, in a shirt the colour of thatch rolled pristinely back from the jewel of his wristwatch, the doctor could well be the wealthy father of a girl your age, the type to pour upon you his thousands, to walk you down the aisle in a venue of his choosing to marry an approved match of your class.

But you will never wed now that Hannibal has claimed you. He speaks of your family from a wreckage of his making, at ease with his distance from it.

“I love my dad the most,” you say. “But he’s a weird guy. Quiet. Never opens up about his feelings. He’ll talk about movies, or the news, but real stuff? Nope. So I've never felt all that comfortable around him. I mean, with good reason after... after everything.”

“More than good,” says Hannibal, firmly. “That you aren’t angrier with both parents for their abandonment in your time of need surprises me.”

“I don’t really blame them. Uncle Lee has this way about him. He can make people believe pretty much anything he says.”

Inevitable that you should mention Leland, who—though of other blood—is still an incestuous growth on the vine.

“What is this way of his?” asks Hannibal. “You’ve previously spoken of a power to sash the eyes of loved ones against what you perceive to be an obvious darkness. How does that ability present in him?”

You bring your legs up onto the chair, crossing them under you for comfort.

“He moved from Louisiana in his twenties,” you say, “so he still has the accent and everything. He even speaks French sometimes. Then there’s this way of holding himself he has. Kind of cocky, but funny, though. From the second he moved in on our street my parents just loved him, apparently. They never saw what I saw.”

“He’d donned the rubber mask.”

You look up at Hannibal almost shyly.

“Yeah. You remember.”

“Yes. And did you love him, in spite of what seemed to you an obvious guise?”

“I did. In some sick way I still do. So I get why my Mom and Dad believed him over me, but sometimes I think maybe part of them knows the truth, but they just shove it down deep like something dead.”

Scrubbing your face angrily with the sleeve of your sweater you snub, without noticing it, the omnipresent box of tissues on the nearby table top. Hannibal makes no remark on your unclean habit, only pours you a cup of green tea which you accept for the sake of avoiding an argument.

“To truly love someone you mustn’t bury their evils,” says Hannibal. “You must find acceptance of them in whatever form you can. Your parents do not care for this friend so much as fear the upheaval of the known. A suburban life, a sullied idyll— by sending you to me they are attempting to reverse its disunion from their image of it in memory.”

“They’re selfish,” you say. “I know. What’s new there?”

You look at the bottom of your teacup, hunting an impossible pattern in the pale ceramic.

“I don’t want to talk about my family anymore. What about yours? You had a sister, didn’t you?”

Hannibal’s eyes change like the blackening of dusk.

“Will told you this,” he says.

“Does it matter?” you ask, shrilly. “I want to know who you are, Daddy, and this is where I want to start. What happened to Mischa? What did she die of?”

It’s frightening how the man before you alters in only light adjustments: the quiet crossing of a limb, the rhomboid slant of shoulders under his jacket, each a signifier of the restless potentiality for truculence in him.

His face is not so beautiful in moments such as this. The flaws in it stand out to you: flesh racked over halberds of bone, something amphibious in the mouth, of some alien taxon. A killer’s physiognomy, little though you care for such sciences as would define it so.

“My sister was murdered when she was a little girl,” says Hannibal. “I interrupted the culprit in the midst of defiling her body, but it was too late. She was lost to me.”

The moon opal of a tear tips loose of an eyelash, its passage a kinetic artistry. What you’d taken for anger is another emotion: a raw and ancient loss.

“Oh my god,” you say. “That’s awful. Do you know who killed her?”

“A man who remains imprisoned to this day,” says Hannibal. “That is his penance for taking Mischa from me.”

You are in too great a terror and disgust of this man to embrace him, as would feel apt for a moment such as this.

“I’m sorry,” you say, weakly.

Hannibal closes the notebook in his lap and asks, almost blandly, “Are you?”

His bald disbelief flusters you.

“Yes. Of course. She was just a little girl. In fact, I feel like I get it, now. All of this. Me and you. It makes sense why you want me. Why you are what you are. It’s because of her.”

Forcing a smile, you reach over and touch a hand to Hannibal’s cheek.

He turns his face gently away from the caress.

“You’re mistaken, Little One. Whereas you were moulded by your circumstances, I was liberated by mine.”

You stare at him, endeavouring to bone his words for their meaning.

“What are you saying?”

“My philosophies and desires pre-existed Mischa’s death. My love for her restrained me, for while she lived I was never free to act as I yearned to in fear that she would be harmed. In some ways I resented that restraint, but in passing Mischa offered me the opportunity to forgive her.”

A cloud snuffs out the sun, and you sit in the dark of it, aghast.

“Forgive her for what?” you ask, in a near whisper. “Helping you? Hannibal, I—”

“We are still at an impasse, I see,” he says, coolly. “We must rectify this. Would you like to know how she received her absolution?”

You shake your head.

“But you must,” says Hannibal. “You’re a curious girl. Mischa’s remains now lie in a grave in my home country. Before I buried them there, I ate part of her. That is how I reconciled my feelings for my sister with what I am.”

Shock throttles your body in its tremor, and the empty teacup drops from your hand, prevented from breaking only by the carpet underfoot. You had, with all the delicate senses of a medium, deciphered the presage of his appetite, and still you feel the plates of the earth shudder with the magnitude of his confession.

Hannibal gets up from his seat, places the cup back into its saucer, and takes your hand in his.

“Let’s end the session there,” he says. “I’d like to involve you in preparing today’s meal, since that’s a new interest of yours.”

With a fear-stricken servility you walk with him to the kitchen, expecting him to have something—someone—preserved in the glossy coffin of the refrigerator.

Instead Hannibal kneels to unlatch an ingenious door in the floorboards, revealing a neat little staircase which runs down into a basement room. From it emanates a rolling field of cold, biting at you through your clothes.

You take a step back, near tumbling in your eagerness to escape it.

“What is that?”

“It’s an expansion of the freezer,” says Hannibal. “With all the dinner parties I host it’s natural that I found myself in need of more storage space. This is my answer to that problem. I’d like you to go down and choose a cut of meat for dinner.”

There’s no threat in the statement; he speaks, in fact, quite casually, meaning to impress upon you the mundanity of his diet in his eyes. To make supper of his sister, to dine upon lamb: there is no separation for him, being that all of it is meat.

You squeeze your eyes shut, cannot face the oblong of shadow beyond the steps which you’ve dreamt of, unknowing,

“Please don’t make me go down there, Daddy.”

“There’s nothing to be frightened of. Open your eyes, Little One.”

“No. No. I don’t want to.”

You try to turn away, but Hannibal arrests you by the arms, holding you as a farmer would a wriggling hare.

“I’m not going to eat you,” he says. “If that’s what you think.”

“I know!” you wail. “But it doesn’t matter. If I go down there and... see, everything’ll change forever. Because I’ll know for sure, and I’ll be part of it. And I can’t be part of it. I’ll go crazy.”

You jerk passionately in Hannibal’s grip, but his greater strength prevails.

“Wait,” you say. “When you talked about Leland—bringing him to me—you meant that I should kill him to eat.”

“Yes,” says Hannibal, simply. “I did.”

There is a softness in his eyes you recognise as hope. He is a man desperate to create others like him, for all that he believes that they are born.

“But you said with Mischa that eating her was forgiveness,” you say. “But you don’t want me to forgive Uncle Lee. So what would it mean to eat him?”

“Look to why trophy hunters keep mementos of their sport. Some as markers of achievement and dominance over the animal, and others in a subconscious humiliation of the predator they’ve slain. Man gloats to bring a tiger to kneel; a girl, having conquered man, might do the same.”

Thinking of Hannibal’s recorded killings, some of them young women, you say, “Most animals don’t deserve humiliation.”

“That’s all a matter of perspective, my dear. A seasoned hunter develops rather a discerning eye for flaws in his quarry.”

Hannibal smooths a lock of hair behind your ear, his rancid touch queerly soothing.

“What did Savannah Belmont do to deserve humiliation?” you ask, sulkily. “She wasn’t a bad person. She was just a girl, like me.”

“A cursory reading of obituaries and odes to Miss Belmont’s life denote her brief career at a rare bookshop,” says Hannibal, “for which position her personal tastes suggest she was underqualified to take. It wouldn’t be so unrealistic to assume that she left customers unhappy with her inadequate ability to serve them.”

Horror breaks over you like the falling of a chandelier. This, too, you had foreseen: no serious cause to kill was ever required for Hannibal, and that you are fucked rather than murdered by him is but a flourish of fate.

Peering into your eyes, Hannibal comes to a rapid decision and bends to close the trapdoor again.

“Duck, tonight, then,” he says. “That will suffice.”

*

Through terror you cling to Hannibal long into the afternoon, lurking at his elbow, a thumb in your mouth, as he prepares for the day’s appointments.

If he is he here, with you, he cannot kill, you reason, not while he thinks only of the invitation of tear-salt on your lips, the liquor of your nether mouth around him. Again and again you’ll die upon his cock as tribute, for though cold in your disorder you are not so callous as to allow others to, if you can help it.

“I’ll be gone for just a few hours, sweet girl,” he says, pausing to rock you in his lap. “No more of this. I’ve left a new book for you in your room. Please begin reading it for me. And there is the recording of an opera I’d like you to watch. That should keep you occupied until I’m home to you.”

It’s only after he’s driven away in the hearse of his car that you succumb to the awfulness of all you've heard. As in those primordial days of captivity you grasp the bars of your window and scream into the burnished day, beating your fists upon the iron until they burst across the bone.

Only a volley of coughing halts you in this fit, sending you to your bed alarmed by the weakness come over you. You lie shivering for hours, wondering if this is the nervous exhaustion you’ve read about in novels that ends in heroines consigned to the madhouse, sunny climes, or else the grave, none of which you might expect to be released to.

When Hannibal returns he feels your forehead and listens to your coughs with a mildly furrowed brow.

“Hospital,” you croak, but he only laughs and strokes your head.

“There’s no need for that. You have a chest infection. Your immune system is very poor. Nevertheless, you’ll be well again soon.”

He perfumes your damp neck with a kiss and sits down in a chair beside you.

“Perhaps it’s for the best that Will is occupied with work,” he comments, at length. “I wouldn’t like his condition to worsen again.”

[sloopaysfan]

How does the other members of the mirror! Party feel about mirror!sif ?

Please tell me they at least like him ;w;

see the thing abt that is like. ok. the main problem in mirror isat is that the party really really really do like each other. and want to be friends. but they each consider themselves completely incapable of that in some way.

like. isa. has complicated feelings on sif. they hate siffrin for so effortlessly mingling with others. for trying to make him talk about the stuff he hates about himself. for making him feel like a horrible person just by being so crabbing NICE! and smart in a way he just isnt. isa says he hates siffrin, but i think deep down he kind of hates himself through siffrin.

and odile like... knows shes awful lol. shes a pathological liar, a self proclaimed grave robber, and serial killer. shes cruel and manipulative and frankly doesn't care if the others live or die. but its a fun thing where she does like being around these people. she... surprisingly to herself, wants to keep being with them. but she knows she can't have that. so she's not chasing it.

mira makes me so sad . girl who hates the very religion shes practically a poster child of. shes such a perfect representation of change. she hates the belief. she was blessed by a god she spends her every waking moment trying to disprove the existence of. she likes siffrin, but knows they deserve better than the moody antisocial hypocrite that is Her. it was nice being with them while they were here, though.

AND BONNIE!!! loves frin so much. siffrin who was willing to go against his own friends to save them, a stranger. an adult who wasn't willing to let a child be hurt by the people they cared about. it's... the kind if thing bonbon always wanted. they try to repay the favor. try to get strong enough to help frin. to get revenge against the people who tried to hurt them and imagines different faces when they try.

sorry idk if this answered anything or if its all too rambly they all make me slightly insane

[cinnamostar]

02: home

part one.

pairing : minho x gn!reader

summary : “I have known you for thousands of lifetimes, and I don’t regret meeting you in a single one.”

wc : 7.3k

cw : childhood friends, arguing, angst, sadness, mentions of bullying + racism/xenophobia, best friends to lovers, fluff, sappiness, its so doooomed

a/n : pls read part one before this! i was in so much pain as i wrote this, so im sorry in advance, my dear reader. please let me know what you think! likes and reblogs appreciated

tags: @im-on-a-hellavator , @httpswilloww @atinyniki (its not letting me tag so i hope this works ;w;)

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Maybe that was a little too harsh, Minho thought to himself as he remembered your glassy eyes and the guilt that painted your face a depressing blue, the bashful glowing smile of yours he adored nowhere to be found. Oh, how his heart soared to the heavens when he saw you back at the pond you both once called home years later, the same vibrance you carried as a child seemed to have never left you even after so many years. How he missed seeing you smile so timidly, yet lovingly, at the tadpoles who swam underneath the pond's surface, how he missed seeing how breathtakingly beautiful you looked as the wind bellowed through your locks, and how he missed you. 

It didn’t matter how many times the earth had rotated around the sun, it didn’t matter how long it had been, his heart could never let you go. 

The instant he saw someone standing at the pond, his body and soul knew it was you, there was no way he’d ever mistake that nostalgic, comforting presence of yours as anyone else’s. The way the soft rays of the sun highlighted your features nearly made his heart skip out his chest, as if he just saw an angel standing before him; the cherub he once knew as a child had grown up.

How he hoped you’d finally come back home to him, how he desperately wished for years to relive the sweetest moments of his childhood, how he wished you were there for each and every milestone in life, and how he wished you two could finally make up for lost time. And while his heart yearned for you, the abandonment he felt in his childhood festered inside him, as if he had taken a swig of poison that sought to destroy the love and adoration he had for you in a bitter, resentful, rage. He couldn’t help it, the pain and misery he felt growing up had never truly left and your presence reawakened those wounds he never learned to heal. His heart stretched painfully in this twisted game of tug-of-war, unsure on whether he should feel thankful for your return or relent to the enmity that had rotted within him for god knows how long.

Yet, it was so easy to submit to the indignation he was feeling as it overpowered any sense of gratefulness, choosing to ignore the miracle of you being back as his mouth soured over the taste of resentment. 

Had his prayers finally been answered? Has he finally wished you back into his life? I’m an idiot, he cringed as he began to regret his behavior. Maybe his anger wasn’t justified, maybe he should’ve met you with more grace. After all, you weren’t wrong, you were just a kid who knew no better. It wasn’t fair to him, but neither was his treatment to you after the fact. Ah. The guilt you must’ve felt over the years could not have been easy to manage on top of the stress of living in an entirely foreign country, as your tearful eyes showed him how much you had been agonizing over this. For so long, he had convinced himself you had forgotten him entirely, no longer cared for him as he mourned over you as if you had died, yet the years of the youth you both shared came rushing in like a tsunami the minute you both made eye contact. The overwhelming emotions of nostalgia and regret was a feeling only you two could ever understand, and my, was it complicated to choose how to feel with thousands of nameless emotions competing with one another.

The love Minho had for you never left, almost as if it laid dormant for years as it hoped for the day you two would meet again, the familiar butterflies of his childhood crush blossoming once again at the sight of you. Somehow, everything and nothing about you changed, it was something Minho didn’t have words to explain or couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. You were the Y/N he knew and doted on as a child, but you had grown into an astonishingly beautiful adult version of yourself and he found himself falling in love the instant his soul recognized you. 

For so many years, Minho had tried his best to erase any memory of you, but his heart couldn’t deny the love it had for you and no matter how hard he tried, it was always you. Through the trials and tribulations of life, you were his safe haven, the very thought of you bringing a sense of peace and tranquility no other could, and during the lowest points of his life, his body always instinctually took him to the same pond as a refuge. He coveted you and your presence, yet the pond was the closest he could get to you and the feelings he had longed for. 

Just maybe Minho was being unfair to you, he thought. After all, you both were just kids.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Since your run in with Minho, you had been suffering with an overwhelming amount of guilt, carrying the weight of shame on your shoulders as you came face to face with him for the first time in years. Having to finally confront the pained and saddened expression he wore was something you could have never prepared for, and the very memory of it was enough to make you break down in tears. 

You knew what you had done to Minho was extremely hurtful, and you couldn’t imagine what that must’ve felt like, no matter how hard you try. But knowing and witnessing it were two completely different things, and after seeing Minho’s watery eyes, you weren’t sure if you could ever forgive yourself. He was right, though. Maybe you shouldn’t have come back, maybe coming back was only reopening old wounds you both didn’t need to be dealing with all because of your selfish need to reconnect with your culture. 

Though, after spending most of your life overseas, you were starting to feel like you didn’t belong in your home country anymore. You had lost touch with cultural traditions, basic etiquette, and even struggled to speak your native tongue as well. You still spoke like the eight year old that had moved away long ago, and it was becoming increasingly embarrassing as you compared yourself to everyone around you. You stuck out like a sore thumb and for the first time in your life, you began to realize you didn’t fit in anywhere. Not here, not in the states. You were too much of your ethnicity to be considered a proper American, and you were too American to be considered a true citizen of your country, despite spending the first eight years of your life here. Coming back home didn’t reaffirm your identity, but only left you more confused and questioning who you even were. 

Minho was right, this was a mistake.

You so desperately craved a sense of belonging, and you became certain you weren't finding it here anymore, but you had to make it through the rest of your trip at the very least. You were just going to try to continue business as usual though, hoping you would not run into Minho again and would simply forgo the pond entirely. It should be simple enough, you thought. No one needed to know about your accidental meeting with Minho and you were sure he’d avoid you like the plague. It should be fine.

Well, that quickly changed as soon as your mom told you Minho’s mother invited your family to dinner at their house. The color from your face immediately drained as a cold sweat formed all over your body, your mother seemingly ecstatic at the news, “Oh, it will be just like old times! And you can finally see Minho after so long, isn’t that great, sweetheart?” she beamed, your father also nodding alongside her. 

You cleared your throat as you forced a fake smile, “Yeah, that does sound great, mom. When are we going over?”

“Tonight! So make sure to be ready to walk over by seven, okay?”

Tonight? Oh, god, no, that was far too soon when you had just barely recovered from seeing Minho yesterday, and now tonight? Breathe, Y/N. Just one night, then you’ll never see him again,  you ressaured yourself, trying to find a way to make this news manageable. You honestly should have seen this coming, your mom was also best friends with Minho’s mom, but for some reason that detail had escaped you.

Just one evening, just one dinner, then it would be all over, right?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Dinner was going as well as it could have. Minho’s mother spent a great deal of effort preparing a feast for your family and she showered you with compliments as soon as you walked through the door, commenting how you had grown into such a lovely young adult. 

Minho and you only exchanged an awkward hello, which didn’t raise any alarms in either of your parents as they somewhat expected this, especially considering how your friendship ended as children. Nonetheless, it did not stop the onslaught of questions each set of parents asked in attempts to catch up, nor did it stop them trying to force a conversation between you two.

“So, Y/N, how was university in the states? Did you like it there?” curiously inquired Minho’s father.

“Oh, it was great! Definitely got to meet some life long friends there and had lots of fun,” you politely responded, “I didn’t exactly live the typical all-american college experience, but it was still nice. Excited to start my new job once I get back though! I got a really good offer and the position I wanted.”

Minho’s mother gasped as she congratulated you, “That’s amazing! I remember your mother telling me how stressed you were about those interviews, but I’m glad you got it,” she then turned her head to Minho while giving him a slight nudge, “Minho also graduated, he got a job offer as well. Tell them about it, Minho.”

Minho awkwardly cleared his throat, “Uhm, yeah, I just got an offer with a bank here as an analyst, but I’m waiting to hear back from another company before negotiating.”

You nodded as he spoke, looking anywhere, but him as your parents also commended him, you weakly congratulating him as well. Wow, this felt painfully awkward, but somehow neither of your parents seemed to care too much about the tension between you two.

“How about a special someone, Y/N?” Minho’s dad asked, the question catching you by surprise. Your eyes landed on the boy who sat across from you, who looked just as surprised, but fully interested in your response.

“Ah, no, not right now… Kinda focused on myself for now,” you respond, a stiff smile on your face, feeling nervous under the sudden intensity of Minho’s gaze.

Your mother let out a chortle, finding your embarrassment endearing, “What about you, Minho? Any girlfriends?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows as everyone else joined in laughing.

“Minho does have a girlfriend! It’s such a shame she couldn’t make it tonight, she was a lovely girl,” his mom piped, “Reminded me a bit of you, Y/N, if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t know why, but something inside you sank, an indescribable wave of disappointment washed over you at the words girlfriend. Of course he had one, he’s, well, an attractive, smart, man. Of course, but why were you so bothered by it? You haven’t spoken to him in years, you virtually had no relationship with him and only had remnants of the past to hold onto, yet your stomach began to twist and turn inside you, almost as if you were jealous? Ah, no, this is weird, this isn’t right. Maybe the food just isn’t sitting with you well, maybe you caught a stomach bug that just so happened to show its symptoms just in this moment.

The boy coughed, “We, uh… We broke up, that’s why she isn’t coming.”

Everyone stood in silence, not expecting that kind of news over dinner, both sets of parents shooting him an apologetic look, but for some reason, you felt relieved to hear that. The pit that was forming in your stomach suddenly vanished, as if Minho’s words just cured you of your ailment.

“What, you never told us!” Minho’s mother exclaimed.

“It was a few weeks ago, it happens. I’m fine, really.” 

Maybe that explains the tired look in Minho’s eyes when you first saw him yesterday, maybe that explains the somber look he carried that day, and perhaps he went to the pond for a moment of peace, just as you did, except your very presence ruined it. There returned the familiar hand of guilt that rested its heavy hand on your shoulders, never giving you the chance to take a deep breath.

Beside that, dinner did move on relatively well as everyone took turns to catch up or reminisce on the olden days, all while gossiping about who was up to what. As dinner came to a close, both sets of parents decided it was best for you two to be left with washing the dishes alone in the house, as they moved to the patio area to chat amongst themselves.

Minho and you silently stood next to each other as he washed the dishes, handing them to you for them to dry with a rag, much as you two did while growing up. Although you two were much older, there was a comforting air that hung around you two that allowed you to relax the tension your body had been carrying over the dinner, humming a quiet tune as you dried each plate.

“You still hum while doing the dishes?” Minho asked, a small amused smile taking over his features.

You froze in place, not expecting him to willingly speak to you, much less take the time to ask you a question. “I guess I still do,” you replied lightly, afraid that the mere sound of your voice would somehow upset him. 

A quiet lull returned after your response, neither of you knowing what to do or even say around another as guilt nibbled away at each of you, but for your own different reasons. 

“I’m sorry.”

 “I’m sorry”

You both turned to each other, eyes widened in surprise as you both rushed mumbled apologies to each other at the same exact time. Neither of you knew what to do in this unexpected situation, awkwardness filling both your eyes as you both struggled to stammer out a response.

“I… I’m sorry for never telling you I was leaving, I should’ve known bet-”

“No, no, we were both kids. Neither of us knew better. I’m sorry for being so… rude. I don’t know what got into me. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered anxiously, continuing to dry the glass cup in your hand, “It’s a lot to handle all at once. I don’t blame you one bit.”

“It really isn’t okay. We were both hurting in our own ways, I think we both did the best we could at the time,” he smiled reassuringly at you, the same one he had flashed you the first day he dragged you out to the forest to find the pond, a smile you had come to miss. 

“Oh, and sorry about… your ex? Break ups suck…”

“It’s fine, I actually am glad we broke up… she was, well… it wasn’t great for either of us,” he mumbled, not willing to divulge any further, “Break ups suck? Sounds like you’ve had your fair share.”

You laugh lightly, “Unfortunately. Mine weren’t as peaceful as yours. You sound a lot happier than I was.”

“Well, you’ve always been a crybaby. Guess not much has changed about you, huh?” he mused, a teasing smirk forming on his face.

You rolled your eyes as you snorted, playfully nudging him with your hip, “Shut up. You’re still as annoying as I remember too.”

“I bet you missed it.”

“I did. A lot. Moving sucked.”

He handed you the last of the dishes to dry, deep in thought as he leaned his back against the kitchen counter, “Was it hard?”

You sighed as you put the last dish away, turning to him as you swallowed thickly, “I think I cried nearly every day for two years straight,” your gaze was stuck looking down at the floor as you fiddled with your fingers, “It was really hard. I didn’t have friends for a long time. No one understood me when I tried speaking English, and I didn’t understand the other kids a lot of the time, but I always knew they were laughing at me.”

Minho’s heart ached hearing how your voice slightly quivered as you recalled the memory, he could tell it was your first time ever saying any of it out loud. There was an icy sadness surrounding you as you spoke, yet no tears were to be found. Maybe you were good at hiding them, or maybe you had grown too tired to cry for your younger self at this point, but it didn’t take away from the scars the loneliness had left on your heart. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve been there for you.”

You shook your head, an exasperated laugh left you as a resigned smile took over your face, “It’s okay, it was years ago. I’ve learned to deal with it. Besides, I did end up making friends and I ended up learning how to speak English.”

Minho was amazed at your ability to force a cheerful expression while discussing something so traumatic, something he would have never expected you to be able to do. He couldn’t help but wonder what you had endured all these years on your own, wondering where the sensitive and delicate version of you he had once knew had gone, feeling angry that you had been hurt so much that your tenderness was forced to become a callous exterior. 

The child he had once known was so fragile, he had to wear gloves when handling your porcelain heart, nervous his very own touch or breath could crack it if he wasn’t careful. Minho hated seeing you cry. He would defend you, fighting tooth and nail, like his life depended on it if anyone ever upset you, even going as far as angrily huffing and puffing at your parents if they ever raised their voice at you. And every time, he would comfort you right after in a gentle embrace until you calmed down, making sure to glare at anyone who tried to disturb your peace. How much did your little heart break over the years? Who was there to pick up the pieces and comfort you through those moments? Had you really dealt with it all by yourself? The thought alone made Minho’s heart writhe in despair, aching as he mourned this realization.

You reached out to grab Minho’s arm as you saw the downcast expression on his face, “Hey, it’s not your fault. I learned how to defend myself and I think I turned out pretty okay at the end of it,” you reassured before laughing, “Unless you think I’m lame now.”

Your laugh was enough to bring Minho out his incessant thoughts, a mischievous grin returning, “I never thought you were cool in the first place.”

“Minho!”

“Kidding, kidding. I’m just glad to have you back. I missed you lots.”

“I missed you too.”

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Over the past few days, you and Minho had become inseparable, spending nearly every minute of the day with one another, much like how you two did when you were children. For the first time in years, you finally felt that you belonged somewhere, no longer feeling out of place like you have since the day you moved away. It didn’t matter where you were, but as long as Minho was there, you felt like you were at home. He knew this too, he noticed the change from the first day he found you at the pond again to now. You were much more relaxed, as if all the worries in the world disappeared while you both were together, giggling over whatever stupid joke was made. You weren’t on edge as you were before, and the walls you had surrounded your heart with slowly crumbled away through his affections. 

And even though over a decade has since passed since you two last spoke, it was as if time had paused since the moment you left, and only resumed from the day you both made up. Nothing has changed, except everything about the two of you changed. Your childhood friendship continued like it was nothing, playing like a song that had been paused, waiting to sing its tune, except you two were much older, more matured, and had experienced so much of life. Whatever you each went through shaped you into the adults you were today, yet the kids you each knew hid behind locked doors that only the two of you had accessed.

Yet, there was a more complicated matter that you had to address before it snowballed out of control. Your feelings. Love was never a word you and Minho shied away from, as you often told each other ‘I love you’ while growing up, it seemed natural during that time of childlike innocence. You knew you loved Minho, and you knew he loved you, but saying it as adults had an entirely implication and your feelings were indicating something much deeper than platonic love. 

It was no secret that your childhood best friend had grown into a rather handsome man, and the childhood crush you once had on him was flourishing into something greater than just a crush. The smallest of gestures would send a frenzy of butterflies and warmth rushing throughout your veins, hoping to god Minho had not noticed just how much of an effect he was having on you.

If you two were walking through a crowded area, he’d grab your hand without hesitation as he led you through the swarms of people. If you had food stuck on the corner of your lips, he’d grab a napkin and wipe it off. If you saw a small trinket at the shopping mall you wanted, the very next day he’d come back with the item in hand, saying he bought it so you could remember to text or call him when you went back to the states. It was moments like those that felt so incredibly intimate to you, but part of you wasn’t sure if it could all be explained away by how comfortable you two were with one another. 

And here you were again, sitting on the couch of Minho’s living room after he had begged you to watch a new scary movie with him, insisting this was to make up for the pre-teen years you both missed out on and that he would’ve forced you to watch one then. You tried to protest, saying that you guys weren’t kids anymore and there was no need for these ‘tests of bravery,’ yet you couldn’t resist the way he would pout and whine, begging you to do so for him just like he would as a child. 

You were barely watching the movie, just peeking out from behind a blanket as Minho’s secure arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head laying on his chest as you cowered in fear over the pure suspense of the movie. Each time you’d flinch, you could feel a soft rumble come from Minho’s chest, doing his best to stifle a laugh and hide the fact that he was enjoying every moment of this. 

“I fucking hate you,” you scowled, still recovering from the last jumpscare.

Minho giggled at your face, finding your attempt to look upset absolutely adorable, “No, you don’t,” reaching his other arm over you as he squeezed you into an affectionate embrace, “It’s not my fault you’re still a giant baby after all these years.”

You grumbled while doing your best to shove Minho off you, but there was no way you’d be able to overpower him. You’ve hugged Minho so many times throughout your life, but this time, it sent your heart racing so loud that you could hear it drumming in your own ears, silently praying that he couldn’t hear it too. Something about this hug felt different, especially when he kept you close in his arms, refusing to let you go as he snuggled into you. This trip was going to be the death of you.

Without fail, every time you jolted in your seat, Minho was quick to chuckle at each of your reactions and tighten his grip on you gently, not skipping a beat to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead while whispering to you that it was just a movie. If you were two kids, this would be something normal and innocent, but right now, it left you feeling like a flustered mess who was melting under the heat of his affection.

You were slowly feeling yourself short-circuit, your body starting to sweat from the heat of embarrassment that was washing over you. Surely, Minho would feel the amount of warmth emanating from you at this point, yet he seemed completely unbothered as his eyes were trained on the movie ahead of you. You were relieved that he seemed aloof to the distress you were experiencing, but also mildly insecure that he seemed so… relaxed despite the proximity you two shared. Maybe he had only seen this under the same childhood innocence and nothing more, maybe it was only you making a big fuss over this.

It was becoming too much for you to bear as you started to shift uncomfortably, slowly getting up while excusing yourself to the bathroom. Minho’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, “Are you okay?” 

You nodded your head hastily as you made your way to the bathroom, “Uhm, yeah! Just not feeling well suddenly, not sure why. Just gonna splash some water on my face.”

He didn’t seem too convinced, he could sense there was something more to it, but decided to let it go. You raced to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you to finally catch a breath, shaking your hands as if you were trying to remove all the nervous energy out of you. Your face was hot to the touch, thankful for the cold water from the faucet as you splashed it onto your warm cheeks. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it was long enough for Minho to come knocking at the door, “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You swung the door instantly, startling Minho as he backed up from the door, his eyebrows raised at your change in behavior, “What’s wrong? Don’t lie to me, I can tell something’s up.”

Minho’s eyes narrowed as he looked into yours, trying to search your eyes for an answer as you bit the inside of your cheek, your eyes entirely avoiding him, “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine-”

“Y/N.”

“I promise, I’m probably just overreacting, Minho. I’ll be fine.”

He stared down at you with his arms crossed, pursuing his lips as he watched the corners of your lips twitch, a telltale sign that you were lying, “Am I making you uncomfortable? Was the movie too much for you? You know you can tell me anything.”

You shook your head panickedly, “No, no, it’s nothing like that, I swear! Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N.”

You gulped, you knew there was no way out of this. Minho knew you better than anyone else, he knew you weren’t randomly feeling ill over nothing, he knew it had nothing to do with the movie. 

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, Minho. It’s okay.”

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it, but can you at least tell me if it has anything to do with me?”

The stubbornness you found charming as a child was definitely an absolute pain in the ass as the adult man in front of you analyzed every microscopic detail you, trying his best to get to the bottom of what had you acting strangely. You couldn’t lie to him, no, he would know as soon as you opened your mouth it was a lie. Sure, you could tell him he was the cause of your unsettledness, but would that even go well? There were too many factors to consider, too much to think about and your long pause told Minho everything he needed to know.

He sighed, taking a step back as he started to make his way back to the living room, “It’s fine, I can tell. If this is too much, we can stop here. We can talk about it tomorrow morning.”

“N-no!” 

The words flew out your mouth before you had the chance to even think. Oh, you were mentally cursing at yourself as Minho turned to you again, his face furrowed with confusion, “No?”

“I just… I mean, it’s just a lot, but it isn’t at the same time?” you sounded so unsure as you said it, which only caused Minho to tilt his head to the side as he tried to understand you.

“It’s too much, but it isn’t…” he mumbled to himself, his mind straining to figure out the riddles you were speaking, “I know I said we don’t have to talk about it, but you do realize you’re not making any sense, right?”

You forced a tight-lipped smile, inhaling sharply, “Uhm, yeah… It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

“You’re lying. You know exactly what you mean, you just don’t want to tell me.”

You winced at his bluntness, not really surprised at how direct he was being with you, “Do you not trust me anymore?”

His eyes glossed over with insecurity and worry as he asked that question, your heart dropping immediately, wanting nothing more than shoo those feelings away, “What? Of course I still trust you.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s complicated?”

“But why?”

“Why can’t you just drop it?” you raised your voice in frustration at his insistence, not willing to budge as he tried to pry his way into your mind.

“Well,” he hesitated, “The last time you hid something from me, you left. So forgive me for being a little scared.”

Your mouth dropped open at Minho’s statement, not expecting him to be so vulnerable with you out of nowhere, “I… Minho, I’m sorry,” you whispered tearfully, your stomach flipping onto itself as it digested the grief Minho had just voiced. You stepped towards him, reaching for his hands as you clasped them between yours, “I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t really know if I should be saying this.”

“Trust me this time, please? I don’t want to be left in the dark again,” he pleaded, his mind reminding him of the day he waited for you as the amber sunset turned into the night sky.

Your hands started to tremble in his, your nerves taking over as you unexpectedly found yourself about to confess your feelings to a man who lived thousands miles from you, a man you had only started talking to a few days ago, a man who had somehow known you your entire life, despite missing so many crucial years together. Your breath hitched as the butterflies in your stomach got caught in your throat, your nerves signaling off as the electrifying feeling of adrenaline took over, “I, uh… I am really happy we’ve made up, I’m really happy to have rekindled our friendship with one another, and I’ve loved all the time we have spent with each other over the last few days, but…”

Trepidation ran through you, biting your lip for a brief moment as you hesitated to continue your sentence, “Maybe I’ve come to love it a little too much?” At this point, you were looking for every way possible to avoid saying your actual feelings, hoping Minho would connect the dots for you, but his face told you he had no idea what you meant. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me I’m still not making sense, I can see it in your face,” you sighed. He nodded, urging you to continue with patient eyes.

“I… like you?”

It was quiet, so quiet you swore both Minho and you could hear your heart thumping, your hands clamming up as you held his, terrified eyes examining his face for his reactions. He stilled for a moment, as if he was processing your words before breaking out into a grin, a hearty laugh escaping him.

“I already knew that.”

You froze in place, disbelief painting your face as you stared at him incredulously, “What?”

“Don’t tell me you’re also still clueless after all these years,” yet he took your silence as confirmation, shaking his head as he giggled, “Do you really think I was being overly affectionate with you for no reason?”

Your mouth dried up from nerves, stuttering over your reply, “I… Yes? I thought you were just… I don’t know, I thought you were just treating me the same way you did as when we were kids.”

“And do you know why I treated you like that growing up?” he questioned with a candied smile.

You blinked slowly, your head shaking cautiously as you tried to decipher his words, “Because… I don’t know? We were best friends.”

“Sure, that was part of it, but it was more like me having a giant crush on you.”

“...”

“... That means I still like you, if that wasn’t clear enough for you.”

There was no way this was real, this all had to be a dream, you just couldn’t believe your ears. Your childhood crush, the man that caused our feelings to go absolutely haywired in a matter of a few days, felt the same exact way for you this whole time and you just somehow missed it? No, no, this was certainly a dream, why on earth would he be into someone like you, someone who-

“Y/N,” he removed his hands from yours, resting them on top of your shoulders as he leaned down to come face to face with you, effectively waking you up from your reverie, “Let’s make up for lost time,” he whispered, his breath fanning on your lips, “Can I kiss you?”

You stared back with doe eyes, all your vocabulary escaping you as you gulped, nodding your head perhaps a little too excitedly. Minho’s smile only widened at your reaction, his rough hands traveling to cup your face with half-lidded eyes, his head leaning forward as his chapped lips closed the gap. His lips melded against yours, your hands grasping at his t-shirt as you felt your knees buckle under him, clinging onto him as if your life depended on it. You felt yourself weaken under his touch, becoming prisoner to his affection as the world around you quieted, much like the moment of silence that existed between the end of a performance and explosive applause of the audience. Everything stalled, as if the expanse of the universe took a pause and the supernovas’ violent bursts slowed to witness feverish kiss between you two. You were becoming lightheaded, pulling away from the dizzying kiss as your chests heaved in an attempt to catch your breath. Minho’s cheeks and ears burned a bright scarlet, a sweet smile grazing his features as his eyes brimmed with love and affection, softly whispering:

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Once again, the familiar, low, hum of mosquitos filled your ears as Minho’s firm hand led you down the same dirt trail you’ve traveled down hundreds of times, leaves brushing against the skin of your arms as you cautiously followed his grasp. Today, Minho told you he had one last surprise for you before you traveled back home, blindfolding you at the entrance of the forest as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, temporarily distracting you from the fact that this was your last day here before returning to the states, returning to your mundane life and leaving this mind numbing summer romance behind.

He slowed down his pace, signaling to you that you had arrived to your destination, his hands slipping out of yours as you felt his presence behind you, gently removing the blindfold as he softly whispered, “we’re here.”

As soon as the blindfold was off, your eyes blinked rapidly as they adjusted to the change of lighting, scanning the scene that stood ahead of them as Minho made his way into your vision, a saccharine smile beaming at you, “Do you like it?”

Like was an understatement as a grin broke out onto your face, your heart filling with an overwhelming amount of adoration as you took in the surprise Minho spent so long preparing for earlier this morning. There, beside the pond, laid a small plaid blanket with a picnic basket centered atop of it, a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a bottle of wine propped up against the basket. You gasped with delight as your heart softened, “Oh, Minho, I love it.”

His shoulders relaxed at your words, no longer feeling nervous as he grabbed your hand and guided you to the blanket, sitting down next to you as he gingerly laid out the food he prepared in front you. “I made you some of your favorites,” he added, gently opening the bottle of wine and pouring you a glass, “I hope its as good as it looks,” he laughed anxiously, handling you a small bento box with the a serving cutely prepared, the vegetables cut out into small hearts decorating the rice. You took a bite of the food as soon as you had the chance, a small moan escaping you due to how delicious it was, your eyes widening in surprise, not expecting it to be so flavorful, “Minho, this is so good, you made this?”

He proudly nodded, pride bubbling up within him as you complimented the meal he made for you, one where he spent an agonizing amount of time to make because it just had to be perfect for you, especially today of all days, a day he wanted to send you off with the happiest memories.

You both continued to enjoy the date Minho had put so much effort in, occasionally teasing one another or chuckling at whatever lame joke the other made, both of you trying to avoid the looming topic at hand, the inevitable ending of this summer love story that was doomed to last for only a few weeks.

“So…” Minho anxiously drawled, “You’re leaving tomorrow…”

You smiled weakly as you cleared your throat, “That I am.”

He pursed his lips, struggling to ask the question you both knew you needed to address, “So… what does it mean for us?”

A heavy sigh escaped you as the tension in the air thickened, both of you intently staring at one another, trying to decode what the other was thinking before speaking, “What do you want it to mean?”

“I asked you first,” he responded a little too fast for your liking, not willing to voice his thoughts without hearing yours first.

“Well, uhm…” you paused, debating with your mind and heart as you decided your next words, “I am going back to the states, back to my friends, back to my job, back to my life.”

“Right,” he mumbled with a crestfallen expression, “Your life is there, not here.”

“It is.”

“What about me?” he whispered in a quivered voice.

“Well, your life is here, my life is not here. I don’t really…” you took a deep breath, tears starting to prick your eyes, “I don’t know how we would work.”

He nodded tearfully, knowing he couldn’t deny the difficulty of managing a long distance relationship, especially one like this, “What if I moved with you? What if you moved back?”

You shook your head, your heart breaking at Minho’s attempts to find a solution, “Minho, you don’t even speak English, you wouldn’t be able to find a job there and use your degree-”

“I can learn! I promise, I’ll start studying-”

“Minho.” 

He stopped mid-sentence, his stubbornness refusing to let him accept the reality you two had found yourselves in, “Minho, you already have a job offer here, your friends and family are here. You wouldn’t be happy in the states, it’s so hard living there as a foreigner.”

“I’d be happy anywhere as long as I’m with you,” he begged, praying you’d at least try to see the glimmer of hope he was trying to conjure up, “I don’t care where, as long as I’m with you, I’d be happy.”

You bit your lip as you tried to suppress a sob, “You know that’s not true, you know your happiness can’t be dependent on me alone.”

“You don’t want to come back here?”

“I… can’t, Minho. My life isn’t here anymore, it hasn’t been in years.”

Crystal tears fell from Minho’s eyes, his eyes no longer being able to meet yours as the your words crushed his soul, the love he felt for you expelling into his tears as he began to mourn your loss once more, sobbing much like he did all those years ago. Through hiccups, he blubbered “Please, Y/N. Please don’t leave me again.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you sniffled, no longer being able to watch the man you love completely fall apart in front of you, cursing yourself for your cruel words that stabbed over and over again in his bleeding heart. “I’m so sorry, Minho. I don’t want this either, but what choice do we have? You and I both know our lives would never cross paths, we would never be able to come together.”

“We can try-”

“For what? To only cry years later to have this same exact conversation again?” you snapped, your frustrated tears and guilty conscience no longer being able to handle his pleading, it only wounding you more. You’ve already spent the past few weeks trying to scour for a possibility, a fragment of hope that showed you a timeline in which you two would be happy together, but it simply didn’t exist in this life, no matter how many times you flipped and turned the story. This wasn’t a movie, this wasn’t some romance novel where love would triumph it all, this was the bitter and harsh realities of life, and you hated it with all your heart.

You let out a despondent sigh as you lamented over the situation, your hands gingerly reaching out for Minho’s chin, forcing his teary-eyed face to look at yours, “Minho, I’m sorry, baby.”

He sniffled, his nose reddening as hot drops cascaded down his cheeks, “I’m sorry too.”

“I love you with everything in me, Minho, and I always will no matter where life takes us,” you murmured heartbrokenly, “I have known you for thousands of lifetimes, and I don’t regret meeting you in a single one.”

His hands reached out to hold yours, removing them from his face as he grasped them tightly, as if he was fearing you’d fade away if he loosened his grip, “I just wish we worked in this one,” he trembled.

“Me too, but…” you heaved, “Maybe in the next one, right? You’ll find me again?”

He laughed melancholily, “Always. I’d chase you to the very end of the universe if I had to.”

“Kiss me one more time? So I don’t forget?”

He smiled with anguished eyes, not hesitating to tilt his head as his lips captured yours once more,  in one last, passionate kiss with all the devotion in the world, leaving the taste of your bittersweet love, one where only the two of you would know and understand. 

You were leaving him again, but at least he got to say goodbye this time.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hii love, how are you doing? 🫶🏻

so, i just read your latest pietro hcs and it's SO GOOD😭 (like everything else that you write, i'm literally in love with your writing) and i had an idea

can i request an angry love confession from pietro after him and the reader go to a mission together and she puts herself at risk to save him?

like, they're friends with benefits, but are distant bc both of them had developed feelings for each other, but neither say anything bc they think the other only wants sex, like you said. the reader putting herself at risk during the mission to save pietro it's the last straw for him, he gets angry and freaked out by the idea of losing her. so, after the mission, they're arguing and it ends up leading to an angry love confession 😏😏

hii lovie!! im sorry this has taken so long, it took me ages to figure out how to get them out of the danger part, so I took a break from it and had no luck so left that part blank. but you’ll see what I mean😭 and im doing well, hope you are too. thank you :(( you’re so sweet!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

MISTAKES AND CONFESSIONS

pietro maximoff x female reader

word count. 869

link to fwb hc’s

As of late, things with Pietro have been a little confusing - tricky, if you will - the complications of being friends with benefits making themselves more apparent after every meet-up.

Everything was going well, all going as planned, until the unforeseen moment when you actually fell in love with him. At the beginning of your elevated friendship, you both promised it would be strictly hook-ups, no strings attached, nothing else. And that's what you did - up until three weeks ago. 

After a while, you found yourself declining his invitations to meet up, like you were starting to pull back from him. It grew more difficult to be around someone so unattainable, to have the constant reminder of his romantic disinterest, so instead, you withdrew yourself to make it less painful. 

So now, when you cross paths at the compound, instead of a nervous hidden smile behind your hand, you avoid his gaze completely - turning your attention to the weather app on your phone.

It wasn't easy to ignore him, but it was getting there - that's what you told yourself, anyway. 

All of your attempts to avoid Pietro got flipped on its head when the two of you got paired together for a mission - to retrieve intel from an enemy base. It was supposed to be a low-risk assignment: get in, collect the information and get out, but nothing is ever that simple.

As soon as you and Pietro stepped foot in the room of said intel, you noticed a red hue shine from under his foot. You immediately tugged at his arm, halting his movements when you realised what you had both walked into.

"Pietro! Wait, wait, wait," you call out, gripping at his upper arm. "Don't move. Keep still," you ramble, eagerly looking around the space.

"What is it?"

"The room— it's got these— I don't know, just keep still," you breathe out a reply, feeling flustered. 

"It's okay," Pietro offers a brief moment of reassurance, keeping his eyes glued ahead - keeping still as instructed. "Are you okay? Are you on one, too?" he hesitantly asks.

"No, no, but you are and— I don't know what to do. Nat taught me what to do with these and— god, why isn't my brain working?" you mumble, frustratedly speaking your mind when you think about the possibility of something awful actually happening to Pietro - to both of you.

"Draga, it's fine. Really, it's okay," he whispers, slowly extending his hand behind, like he was awkwardly reaching for you.

"No, keep still— please. Just let me think," 

"You should go,"

"No, give me a minute," 

"Please, milovat. You need to go,"

"I said no. Just give me a second,"

You even your breathing, running an uneasy hand over your forehead as you assess your surroundings. 

----- after ------ (im sorry about this, my brain broke)

You avoid each other's gaze, separately processing everything that happened - how you were both about to be blown to pieces, how you were willing to let yourself die to get Pietro out.

"That was so stupid," Pietro mutters, keeping his eyes fixed on a tree ahead.

"Excuse me?" you reply, neck whipping around to face him.

"That was so stupid," he repeats, emphasising each word.

"Are you kidding?" you snicker. "If you had minded where you were going we wouldn't have had to done all that."

"So you're saying it's my fault?" he retorts, face grimacing.

"Yes. I am," you retaliate. "It's your fault."

You both sigh, growing frustrated with the conversation. It was as if there was so much left unsaid, it all coming together like a whirlwind of mixed emotions - everything from your failed 'relationship' to no contact to just now. It was like you were both holding back on everything, too scared to bring up the subject that tarnished your original friendship. 

"I told you to go, and you didn't. That's not on me. That's on you! Don't blame me for things we both messed up on."

"Me? That's rich,"

"Yes, you! Nothing is ever your fault, is it?" he sneers, the argument changing subject.

"You never listen! Always thinking about yourself,"

"Bullshit," he dryly chuckles, unamused smile on his face.

"I don't want to do this. It's boring and tiring," you cave, waving your hands in sign of defeat. "I give up. You win."

Pietro huffs, rubbing over his temples. "If you had just gone..." he murmurs, talking at the floor.

"I couldn't! I couldn't leave you,"

"Yes, you could. You should've gone. You could have died," Pietro's words soften as if it all hit him how real it was - how he could have lost you again, but for good. "You could've died."

"So could you," you turn to face him, meeting his saddened eyes. 

His hands drop to his side as he steps towards you, walking to close the gap - the closest you had been in weeks. He keeps his gaze solely on you, looking over you like you're no longer a distant memory, like he was seeing you in a new light - the way he was supposed to see you.

He cups your cheeks, holding your face in his hands. "I could have lost you again."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

pietro taglist: @astermath @thewinterv @earth-elemental18 @lunnnix @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @randomawesomeperson102 @queerponcho @selfryed @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor @mrsbarnesxxx @honestly-who-even-is-this @simplyreflected @apxtowiris

[regretisstoredintheme]

Turtle Blush + Hand-holding

A/n: more brainrot?? More brainrot. I love making headcanons on different ways characters blush, it’s my favorite thing ok???? And the turtles are my hyperfixation at the moment… I just can’t stop thinking abt how they would hold your hand bc they’ve got 3 fingers instead of 5!!! there are complications!!!!! Also I wanted to draw blushy turtles so yeah.

— headcanons under the cut —

BLUSH!!

Most to least amount:

Raph

Donnie

Leo

Mikey

—

Raph:

How he blushes

This boy will sometimes go full face red, but most of the time it’s all in his cheeks. They go rosy red all the time and his shoulders will blush too. IK IT LOOKS LIKE I PUT SOME ON HIS PLASTRON BUT I DIDN’T REALLY MEAN TO??? 😭😭 when he blushes he absolutely can not look you in the eye, he’s mumbling, stuttering, doing calculations of how to get out of the situation, (kinda like he did when locking up Ms. cuddles) and will start to back up if you get closer. Yk his lil nervous laugh? His lil “hAhAAHH..”? That’s his go-to reaction if you say anything about his actions (which you’re bound to) or if you brush your hand on his arm.

Why he blushes

It’s pretty easy to get Raph to blush, he just feels so lucky to be with you and the surprise that you love him too doesn’t fade too fast through your relationship. In like the first 6 months he’s like this, so when you give him a kiss on the cheek he’s an absolute MESS. And Mind Raph makes sure he knows it, feeling horribly embarrassed about his stuttering. This also goes on for a while before that insecurity calms down, allowing him to feel more comfortable in his own shell.

When he’s more comfy, even then he’s easy to fluster. If you catch him staring at you, he’s already embarrassed. He’s looking away with a slight blush, avoiding you— but if your gaze is steady, still staring at him - now he’s real flustered. Laugh playfully and he just might explode.

He likes to cradle you in his arms, he’s always wanted to be a protector and you put him at peace. He feels pure serenity when you’re near, and he adores cuddles. However, when you ask him for snuggles— he’s burning up, stammering through trying to say “I’d love to” , “my pleasure” , and “yes please” at the same time. “My yes… eh— pleased to— wait- yes the please.. my love to!! Oh god..” (he’s face palming fr.) Although, when you finally get situated— with his racing heart, he’s wide awake. He isn’t going to sleep until he can stop focusing on your face snuggling into his plastron, acting as a ball of warm sunshine to drown out his sleepiness.

Spoiler Alert: he pretty much just waits for you to fall asleep first.

—

Donnie:

How he blushes

Donnie feels like the type to have a nose blush— and also I dunno why but I could see his shell blushing??? Even if only at the edges, It just seems so canon to me. His fingers go pink when he’s nervous, but those aren’t exactly a giveaway because they also freeze when he’s cold. He feels his mouth go dry when he blushes, thats how he knows he’s turning red, so he starts fiddling with the edge of his purple mask, trying to act natural while he pulls it down further over his blushing snout.

In this state, he’s really overstimulated, even the slightest chair creek would prick his nerves, so if you give him any attempt at physical contact he’s either short circuiting or smacking you away, unable to process the feeling. (It’s mostly the latter) ESPECIALLY IF ITS A NOSE KISS!!! He usually melts into your hands, but if he’s overstimmed, he will not hesitate to ATTACC.

He apologizes after, embarrassed that he bat you away.

Why he blushes

Easy, you outsmarted him. He’ll be throwing on his emotionally unavailable bad boy image, strutting his stuff, bantering with you — and then you will throw in a flirty comment that makes him have to just process for a minute. Usually he can bounce back, but if it’s something reaally flirty, then he’s just like 😀 … FOR LIKE 5 MINUTES HFJDHDJEB GIVE HIM A SECOND HE’LL FIND A COMEBACK

After he does so, he gives a small smirk, kinda proud that you were able to stun THE Donatello, smartest, bravest, most courageous turtle of all time— if only momentarily. “You won for once..” he marvels, “huh— I’m impressed.”

Also you doing something really cute, like doing an equation wrong but looking at him with absolute glee at getting through it— waiting for his approval. he is LOSING. HIS. M I N D. He’s trying not to squeal because “LOOK AT MY PARTNER. LOOK. LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK AAAAAA OH MY GOD” but the last thing he wants to do is flaunt the way Leo of all people does— he’s more civil than that. (Imagine how a badass villain shows off their partner.) if anyone says anything about “pff what an idiot” when you’re doing something he thinks is absolutely adorable— he is pulling out his disposal unit immediately. He considers it the highest offense when someone insults his intelligence, so the same goes for his partner.

—

Leo:

How he blushes

Leo doesn’t really blush in his face, no— the red marks on his face will occasionally glow with heat, but the real place he blushes is his neck. It goes beet red and he’s trying to cover it up because he’s embarrassed. Not only does he blush, but his hands get real clammy, and he’s constantly trying to pretend they’re not. He WILL avoid holding your hand if you’ve made him flustered. if you’re insistent on it, he’s wiping his hands on a shirt he’s wearing or tries to play it off that he was exercising.

Why he blushes

It is really hard to fluster THE Neon Leon. He may melt into your warm hands or blush a little when you’re being cute— he’s definitely capable of being soft, HOWEVER!!! As someone who is so bent on keeping up a carefree persona, it would take a lot to get under his skin. Mikey says so himself in the Lair Games, “nothing gets to Leo.”

He panics when a one-liner doesn’t work. He’ll make a few more with complete confidence, but If you don’t like his flirting, he’s shifting on his feet, rubbing his neck, and slowly backing himself up into a corner. He has a similar reaction when you catch him in a lie, he panics— but he brushes it off with somewhat ease. You’d have to try really hard to get him flustered. Such as, well— He likes the little things about people, because he likes to figure people out, and he’s got a soft spot for you, so say… a blue flower in your hair, formal wear, having that edge of confidence, staying in close proximity while holding onto his arm and gently sprinkling in praise to the conversation…

His brain is frying, slowly but surely!! Be prepared for a jumpy and stuttering Leo.

—

Mikey:

How he blushes

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think Mikey would visibly blush. Sure he gets that lil buzz in his cheeks and they feel warm when he’s flattered— but they don’t go red. Out of all his brothers, since he’s the smallest, I feel like he’s the most cold-blooded. and due to this, he doesn’t have much blood rush to his face, and he’s got the COLDEST FUCKING HANDS YOU EVER DID SEE. How those hands threw a skyscraper we will never know— but they are only warm when he’s cooking something bc of the heat from the oven.

(SIDE NOTE— HE NEVER??? BURNS HIMSELF??? Doesn’t matter if he scrapes the side of the hot ass cookie sheet he’ll just go “ow?” Check it, and be like “we’re good :)” DRAXUM MADE THEM FOR WAR AND HE’S OVER HERE LIKE “hehe I almost burned myself oopsie”)

Why he blushes:

I’m sorry sweetie, but you can’t fluster Mikey. The most you will get is flattery, and he feigns shyness because he’s a lil shit. He will unabashedly laugh and giggle when you do something cute and is the most clingy lil shit to ever exist. He will rant about all the reasons he loves you for hours, just because he can’t hold in the excitement. If you get embarrassed by it, that’s just a bonus for him!! He’s cooing over you and hugging you tight, swaying back and forth gently.

You’re beginning to wonder if he can feel embarrassment at all— you’ve tried everything. He’s just happy to be with you no matter what, and you are the only thing that could make him sit still for more than 5 minutes. So no, sorry, Mikey doesn’t get flustered ♡

The only way he would actually get flustered is if you lied about something to make him look stupid. Then he’s tearing up, betrayal in his eyes as he tries to explain in a panic. But you would never do that to him, right? .. right?

—

Hand holding!!

Coldest to warmest hands:

Mikey

Leo

Donnie

Raph

—

Raphie:

Idc how big you think your hands are, Raph’s hands ENGULF yours. If you hold onto just one finger he will probably combust on the spot. He just thinks it’s so sweet!! Will probably baby you if you do that. His hands are a gentle lukewarm, but don’t seem to drop colder. It’s really nice during the summer months since neither of you have to worry about being all hot and sweaty. He squeezes your hand when he’s nervous, if you pet his knuckles he will melt into your grasp once more. IF YOUVE GOT FRECKLES/BIRTHMARKS ON YOUR HANDS, HE WILL KISS THEM!!!! THAT IS A THREAT!!!! He does it because he thinks they’re pretty— If you get all blushy then he’s backing up, a familiar rose dusting his cheeks. He didn’t realize it was a big deal, he was just appreciating them!!

He holds your hand often, it lets him know you’re safe and that he doesn’t have to worry as much. As someone with horrible object permanence, holding your hand is a great way for him to know where you are— especially since he feels ‘too big’ and doesn’t want to bump into you. He worries about his spikes, so when he knows you’re right by his side, he can relax a little. If you’re in a crowd, he does the mom thing where he holds your hand so you don’t get lost— losing sight of you kicks off his fear of being alone, so there is no way he is letting you get lost in the crowd.

—

Dondon:

Donnie isn’t a fan of hand holding. He’ll take a hug and will hold you in his lap but he doesn’t usually find himself with his hand in yours. It’s quite overstimulating at times, so when he does, it’s mostly because he’s trying to guide you somewhere or apologize for something. He gently grasps your wrist, his thumb sometimes rubbing in small circles.

Most of the reason he doesn’t hold your hand dead-on is because of the temperature difference. If your hands are warm he doesn’t like the sweat and if your hands are cold— well he’s cold blooded of course he wouldn’t like it 😭😭 Your wrist is the perfect temp in his opinion, and nothing will stop him from taking advantage of that. (ESPECIALLY IF YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE IS PHYSICAL TOUCH!!! He does it to tell you he loves you, even if he can’t say it aloud.) he rarely holds your hand unprompted, unless he did something stupid or was hyperfixating for so long that you got bored and left his lab. When you leave he can tell, getting upset that he can’t feel your presence anymore. “Dove?” He’ll turn in his chair, trudging out of his room at realizing you disappeared. He grabs your wrist gently, his head on your shoulder as he sulks— silently begging you to return.

—

Mikester:

It doesn’t matter how he does it, he’s intertwining his fingers with yours. He doesn’t care if it feels uncomfortable, but if you do, he just gently cups your hand with his. Randomly when holding your hand he’ll pulse his grip in little patterns— sometimes it’s to the song in his head, other times it’s just on the fly. If you copy his rhythm, you’ll quickly find yourself in a memory game where you have to match the beat— the terrapin slowly making it harder to remember. Every time you pass a ‘level’, he gives you a quick peck on the cheek!

He loves to hold your hand, no matter how cold yours are, his is always colder— so he adores the warmth!! If you complain about his cold hands, he’s giving a mischievous smirk, and suddenly you find yourself constantly defending from his devilish torment. You can’t escape him now, every time you go up to him for a hug or snuggle, his cold hands sneak up to your neck, freezing you instantly. He laughs like a little boy with his first balloon every time it happens, apologizing sweetly before going to freeze you again. HE HAS A KILLER DEATH GRIP, DON’T TELL ME HE DOESN‘T. If you try to let go of his hand he grabs it back and looks at you with an evil cheeky smile, whatever you had to do with that hand you’ll just have to do while he’s holding it.

—

Leoser:

May or may not have gotten some inspiration from @pianocat939 BUT ANYWAYSSSS

Leo likes to pet your knuckles when he holds your hand, as well as give it a chaste kiss whenever he feels like it. He definitely does the prince thing where he gets on one knee, it makes him feel so gentlemanly and if you laugh that is a huge bonus. He is more of a hug-person, wanting to be close to you at all times, but he will hold your hand a lot more often if you don’t like PDA. HE DEFINITELY SWINGS HIS ARMS WHILE YOU HOLD HANDS DON’T TELL ME HE DOESN’T.

He splits your four fingers in half when he holds your hand, mostly so it’s more comfortable for the both of you. He whines if you let go of his hand, even if it’s something small like an itch on your face. He pretends his hand is floating away when you let it go, chuckling if you panic and grab it back/being dramatic and holding a ‘funeral’ for his hand if you let it ‘die’. His hands get calloused from holding his sword all day, but he does manicure them, so texture depends whether he’s done them recently. He thinks your hands are the softest thing ever, and constantly asks for your ‘routine.’ HE WILL PAINT YOUR NAILS!!! refuses to paint them anything but shades of blue, saying you’ll have to find someone else if you want to betray him anything different.

—

A/N: THIS . THIS IS THE REASON I HAVE BEEN SO HELD BACK WITH REQUESTS. THIS MF!!!!!! >:((((

Nah I’m just playing I loved writing it and I promise I’ll get back on track now ♡

—

[stars-and-inkpots]

Greetings, I'm hoping you're having a great day and or night😊 I love your writing, you're talented! If your requests are still open, can I request Tav (female please) being insecure that she doesn't live up to Gales standards because he was with Mystra? Tav just tells him "I'm in love with you, but I'm nothing. I'm no Goddess" I love my romance with some angst🥲❤️

I finally have a little time this week to write!! I loved this request, thank you so much. I actually had two versions of this planned out, one where you aren't yet together (this one), and another set in post game when the two of you are together in Waterdeep (I might finish this version and post it at some point too) ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy!

With You | Gale x Reader

You were nothing when compared to a god, and Gale certainly wasn’t blind to that. 

So you keep yourself at a distance. You convince yourself that this is for the best. 

Of course, Gale notices.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Love confessions, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, first kiss, comfort, self-esteem issues, low self-worth issues

Ao3 Link: Baldur's Gate 3 Requests

Word Count: 1,037

Realising you had developed feelings for Gale was a complicated discovery on its own. Knowing that Gale’s previous partner had been none other than a literal goddess complicated it even further. 

The two of you had grown close, and both of you would be fools to not admit that there was something between the two of you. But you hesitated everytime the opportunity to take things any further than friendship arose. Not because you didn’t want to, no; Gods, you wanted to so badly. But it was exactly because of Mystra that you hesitated. 

Gale had been with a goddess before. A goddess. And you were just… well, you were just you. You were mortal, and you could never hope to possibly compare to the divine. And what if he was just settling for you? Was he simply lowering his standards? What if Mystra, for whatever reason, decided to return to her affections for Gale? Would he, despite everything that She had done, go back to Her? You were nothing when compared to a god, and Gale certainly wasn’t blind to that. 

So you keep yourself at a distance. You convince yourself that this is for the best. 

Of course, Gale notices. 

Not immediately at first, but after a few days of you barely speaking to him, he can’t help but worry he’s done something wrong. There are no more late night talks by the fire; no walking just a little too close to be simply friendly during the day; no stolen glances. Nothing. Where there was once undeniably something, there is nothing. He curses himself for not saying anything sooner, for hesitating. 

At first, he wants to assume it’s because you suddenly realised that he’s dangerous, that he’s volatile. Then he worries that you’ve realised he’s just not as impressive as you thought he was. Maybe his skill no longer impresses you, and if he doesn’t have that then what else is there? The thought that you look at him and see only what he thinks he is, a pathetic shadow of a man who once was. 

Maybe it’s desperate on his end, but he’s not willing to just let this go. As much as he’s ready to wallow in self-pity, he needs to know. He can change, if that’s what you want. 

---

“I want to talk to you, if you have a moment,” Gale says before you can duck into your tent for the night. 

“Alright,” you relent. “Let’s go for a walk then.” You lead the two of you out of camp, and Gale follows beside you. You can’t shake the anxious feeling that only grows with the silence between you two. Once you’re far enough away, Gale speaks up. 

“I’m going to be perfectly transparent here; and if I’ve misread anything, do stop me before I embarrass myself too much.” Gale takes a breath, as if he’s already waiting for you to object. When you remain silent, he continues. “You mean a great deal to me, and I care about you a lot. In all honesty, I have feelings for you, very strong feelings. Now, a few days ago I had thought that you returned and shared my affections. But you’ve been quite different with me as of late. I know I am not owed an explanation or an answer, but I will still ask for one all the same.” 

You freeze. Even though you knew this conversation would come eventually, you don’t know what to say. He’s here. He’s here and he just admitted that he felt the same way as you did, and yet you can’t bring yourself to answer. 

“I just want to know if it was something I did. Did something change? As I said, you don’t have to answer, of course, I just… what happened to make you change your mind?” You can hear the nervous self-consciousness in his words, but it confuses you. How could he ever think it was something that he did when he had been with a goddess? How could he want you? 

“No, nothing changed. It was nothing that you did. I promise.” You sit down, and Gale follows, sitting beside you. 

“Then why have you been so cold with me? It isn’t fair to tell me I did nothing wrong when you go from spending so much time with me to barely even looking at me, let alone speaking to me.” He sounds frustrated, and you don’t exactly blame him. It was cruel of you to treat him so differently without an explanation. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally bring yourself to look over at him. Even through his slight annoyance with your behaviour, there is hurt. “You deserve better than me,” you say finally. You watch his expression change to one of confusion. “You shouldn’t lower your standards for me.” 

“What?” For once, you seem to have rendered him nearly speechless. 

“Gale, I’m in love with you, but I’m nothing. I’m no goddess.” 

A sudden understanding crosses his face. 

“Yes, you are. You most certainly are.” He takes your hand in his. “And you are more than I deserve, I assure you. If you truly wish to remain no more than friends, then so be it; but if those worries were all that were holding you back, I assure you you need not entertain them any further.” Every word sounds so completely genuine. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, despite yourself. 

“Completely.” He lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. The act and the way he looks at you is enough to push your worries aside for now. You can tell he means everything he says. 

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, in a rush of newfound confidence. 

“I would like nothing more.” 

The hand not holding yours rests against your face, thumb brushing along your cheek. You brush your fingers through his hair, and you feel him shiver. It’s a soft kiss, the beginning of things. When you part he rests his forehead against yours and both of you are smiling. 

The walk back to camp is quiet, but comfortable. Gale doesn’t let go of your hand until you kiss once more and retire for the night to your tents.