#writing this all out also had me procrastinating by staring into space for so long that i got tired enough to go to bed so theres that too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

florence-is-gay · 10 months ago

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hiii!!! im a fan of your work and was wondering of you could write some hcs of the mercs with an autistic s/o?? i struggle with autism and reading these things kinda helps. thx sm!!! :ooo

Absolutely!! I'm so glad you enjoy my headcanons, i haven't written any for quite a while lmao

--EDIT FROM YEARS LATER OML-- I had this sitting in my drafts completed with all mercs except for the last 3 listed, between procrastination and life and falling out of the fandom I guess I just eventually forgot... Once in a blue moon I'd come back to this post and think... "I'm sorry tomatosoopp... I will finish this for you one day. Maybe not now, or later, maybe not even soon... but... eventually. I promise." I hope things are going well for you, you've probably long forgotten your ask but I genuinely hope seeing this finally answered will bring you joy and make your day <3

I know it's late to say it, but Merry Christmas and Happy New year! Perhaps you can consider this as a long overdue gift, from me to you! I hope this year will bring you lots of wonderful and amazing things <3 Love, Flo (P.S., I also added a bit to the shorter blurbs at the beginning... To make up for all that time! Now enjoy your long awaited post, my friend! <3)

SCOUT

Scout is pretty ADHD, and we all know how that's the peanut butter to his S/O's jelly. He gets excited with you about the things you love! And stims? Oh yeah. Leg bouncing, pen chewing, and the likes. So he won't judge you when you excitedly flap your hands or smack your thighs/any available surface. In fact, he'll share his fidgets with you when he notices you're feeling nervous or stressed. Sometimes he forgets you are extremely empathetic and sensitive to high energy or strong moods, so if he gets too excited or angry or anything of the sort he will do his best to calm himself as to not overwhelm or overstimulate you!

SNIPER

Sniper's not much of a talker, but he loves to listen to you ramble! Sometimes just the sound of your voice makes him smile! Also since he knows how tactile you are, he doesn't mind letting you feel his scars, tracing your fingers along and across them. He also lets you scritch his stubble, and he finds your reaction both amusing and adorable! Also, if you love nature, Sniper is your perfect guy! He'll take you for long walks in the woods or along hiking trails, not minding if you are slow or simply taking your time to stop and observe every little detail <3

ENGINEER

Engie loves all your little quirks!! He thinks you're the cutest darn thing on the planet! He'll definitely build you some fun fidgets and stimmy things! He also has earmuffs for when he's working with machinery, if you're feeling overstimulated he'll let you borrow them! Additionally, he enjoys relaxing with you by a fire just to chill out and play his instruments! He knows you have a fondness for music, so he tries to learn your favorite songs! He is also the type to always check on you to make sure you eat and drink <3

HEAVY

Like Sniper, Heavy isn't much for words. He doesn't mind silence, so he's perfectly okay with you zoning out, staring into space, or just lost in your thoughts. He also understands when you have a hard time wording things. He still struggles with English. And if you're feeling anxious or overwhelmed, he'll scoop you up in his big arms and hold you like a lil baby, and gently whisper words of praise and comfort. He'll also let you take naps in his arms <3 Like Engineer, he likes to make sure you don't skip meals. He doesn't always understand that some food textures are unpleasant, but he tries his best to find something you like!

DEMOMAN

Demo LOVES cuddles. He won't admit it to the other guys, but he finds it soothing. He knows you love to lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. He also gives great hugs! You told him once that you enjoy physical pressure on your body, so he'll give you extra-firm hugs, and sometimes he'll lay right on top of you to take a nap! He definitely will gift you some weighted blankets, along with some fun beanbags just to mess with. He also makes sure any touch on you is firm and grounding. Additionally, if you have a habit of sleeping a lot, it's no worry for this man! He's perfectly happy to pass out with you for 12+ hours and STILL have room for naps! As long as they are with you, he is happy <3

PYRO

Pyro themselves are nonverbal autistic, so honestly to them, you are the most normal person out there! They have hyperactive tendencies and struggle to pay attention to anything too long, but when it comes to you, you have their full attention! (To the best of their ability, anyway!) They will happily share their love for fire and cute things with you, though they also love when you share your hyperfixations with them! Not only that, but they will often bring you gifts relating to the things they know you love! Should you ever feel sad, touch-starved, or understimulated, just know Pyro will always be by your side to give you the best cuddles and hugs you could ask for!

MEDIC

If you are someone who is always psyched to learn new things, Medic is your perfect guy! He knows a lot about physical and psychological health, including autism! He will take time out of his day to educate you on your brain and why it works the way it does! He will do his absolute best to keep you informed so you can better understand yourself! (Even if at times you get tired of his lecturing) He also knows that you are very hands-on when it comes to many projects, so he will allow you to assist with simple tasks in his lab! He also knows you struggle with your health habits, aka hygiene, sleeping, eating, drinking, etc., so expect this man to be on your back! He wants to make sure you take good care of yourself <3

SPY

Spy is a bit of a tricky one. He seems completely unbothered by all of your quirks, almost to the point where you wonder if he even notices them. Rest assured, he certainly does! But he does his best not to bring attention to it unless you are the first to bring it up. He wants you to feel as though your autism doesn't define you, after all, you are more than your disability! At times he may challenge you to break from any bad or unhelpful habits, such as nail biting and pulling hair, or more serious matters like harmful stims when you get upset. Unrelated, he knows you are a person of the senses. So any gift to you is always a high-quality item: scented soaps and lovely colognes/perfumes, clothing that is soft and pleasant to touch, weighted blankets, and any type of small heavy object that may be grounding. Not to mention foods he knows you'll eat, since taste and texture can sometimes be an issue. Of course there is more, and if you don't like scented things and find soft textures on your body displeasing like some, he will accommodate for that as well! And lastly: Don't let him catch ANYONE making fun of you! They may not live to see the sun tomorrow.

SOLDIER

Honestly... He might also be autistic. No one knows for sure, but even if he was, he would loudly and proudly deny it. Loudly seems to be something the two of you do well-- you may find yourself struggling to control your volume in your excitement, but that's okay! He does too! Though he may also partly be hard of hearing from all of those rocket blasts... Regardless, the two of you seem to match each other's energy to near perfection- Yelling and screaming about nonsense, singing loud and off-key, even just making animal sounds or random noises incomparable to anything on this planet... Still he enjoys your company, neither of you really seem to be able to get a handle on social cues, but to heck with those! They're all confusing anyway! At least you understand each other! Additionally, the two of you may also struggle to remember things, especially short-term. But you're a good dynamic, always reminding each other what was forgotten! (...Just don't act surprised when he wants to recite to you the Declaration of Independence by heart for the 5th time that day.) And lastly, if you ever tell him you're autistic, surely he will tell you that you are American. And should you attempt to explain what autism is, more than likely he will assure you that you aren't (even if you clearly are-) and that you're perfect! He sees a lot of himself in you and he thinks you are the best thing since the birth of America <3

#tf2 #florence writes #tf2 headcanons #autistic s/o #tf2 mercs with autistic s/o #ask #florence answers #tomatosoopp #team fortress 2

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erica-cannot-draw · 2 months ago

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Fuck it! Thumbs in pockets doing nothing! I want to be done with this drawing! I hate her I hate her I hate her!

This is T[redacted], or a vague approximation of her because she isn't anything.

That's not true. She is a really, really boring love interest for Jarravin, which is technically not nothing.

I'm having such a hard time writing this description because while she does stuff and other stuff happens to her, in a salient way she very much doesn't have traits. The dead-eyed stare was a mistake while drawing this but I didn't bother correcting it because it was thematically fitting for her emptiness. Her primary character trait was "hot." Her nose was described as "pointy" in what text existed, and it always was in the drawings, but it started out large and got smaller and smaller as the drawings """evolved""" because I am a coward. I was too much of a coward to explicitly mention she had a big ass in the text, but considering the only part of the text I ended up really writing any of was the part where she was a teenager, this is probably for the best.

I gave her a scarf in this drawing because relative to what already exists it counts as characterization, and I feel a little bad for her. My awful wish fulfillment story I made up as a teenager is not her fault.

Also in a version I shared with a writing workshop (in college, because I was too stupid to realize this story was completely untenable) everyone got hung up on a line where Jarravin was lamenting that real mountains were earthy and naturey and parky and he wanted a cold snowy windy movie mountain "where scarves were not illegal" and nobody understood what the fuck I was talking about, including me. In hindsight I think this is like ultra-sublimated dysphoriaposting or something.

When I was in the "give people special skills like the Baudelaires" stage of writing, her skill was "win a sword duel as long as she isn't using a sword." Because minecraft was the hip new thing when I was first coming up with this, I planned for a scene where she would win a duel using a gold sword, because it was shit enough to not count. (There are lots of very direct minecraft inspirations in the first draft, in fact. For example, the entrance to the not-hive-mind facility is a trapdoor over a long drop into not very much water at all.)

Another detail about T is her natural hair color changes to blue at some point in the story. I no longer remember exactly which point or what exactly the justification is. Her original hair color is black (light brown in later versions, yes I changed the appearance of the big important love interest in the story that I always procrastinated writing that was mostly an excuse for me to draw hot characters, don't worry about it, it probably doesn't mean anything). She is also blonde at one point via a deeply stupid plot where, after she and Jarravin escape the not-hive-mind facility and start going around to warn people about the not-hive-mind facility, A recaptures her by cutting her brain out and implanting it in a clone, and the clone is blonde for some reason. (Also, despite the fact that he does this in broad daylight in the middle of one of there presentations, and there is now a corpse there with her head open, this does not convince the public at large that there is some kind of bad guy involved here. Clown plotting.)

Susan lives entirely in the "space future" parts of the story, so she has some excuse for why she only has ludicrous future superhero clothing. T also has ludicrous future superhero clothing except with a miniskirt instead of pants - however in the "present-ish" parts of the story she's just some random teenager with random teenager boring clothes and she's boring so I drew her boring.

She's both the daughter and mother of Susan and A because time loop incest story.

In high school I claimed to be in love with T (true) and to have created a tulpa of her (false.) I don't know why I claimed this. I kept this charade up for a long time. I don't know if the people I told about it genuinely thought I had created a tulpa or were just being polite. Today I would assume the latter but I had friends at the time who thought they could reality-shift into equestria.

Within the future parts of the story she is able to do magic. This is the closest thing she has to a trait. The way "magic" works is all matter and souls are made of particles called "awesomnions" (You think I'm making this up in post? You think I would voluntarily put these words in past-me's mouth?) and if your soul is particularly awesome you can Do Magic with it. And wouldn't you know it, T has the best soul and she can do the most magic.

While writing this I had a flash of memory that magic was literally called MAGIC, which stood for Manipulation of Awesomnion Generation In Control. I had forgotten this until now. Excuse me while I go fucking vomit.

Whether Susan's powers were direct awesomnion manipulation or something else varied.

While MAGIC is supposed to let you do Whatever it mostly manifested as T shooting lightning at stuff. (Jarravin is also supposed to be gifted at magic but I never drew him because girls are just cooler than boys. Basically since high school I have struggled to make male characters exist and pretend they are interesting, unless it's some softboy whose motivation (other than survival of direct danger) was to get with the girl [platonically or offscreen] because that was the only boy-coded motivation that made sense to me, like yeah girls are so cool and good and femininity is synonymous with value and any female character with trait XYZ is way cooler and more interesting than any male character with that same trait so why waste your traits on your boy characters, I guess there should be some but only so people don't accuse you of writing solely as an excuse to observe fictional girls, which is obviously misogynist. wouldn't it be cool if you could be in the same room as a girl literally all the time while performing zero masculinity that would be grand that would be lovely OH HEY LOOK AT THE TIME)

@toy-sitting-anon's icon has a direct lineage of tracing-and-svg-editing from the second drawing I ever made of her. (The first was a very old thing that did not set her "canonical" image in my mind. Before that she sort of had no description besides "beautiful" and I considered any concrete visual details to be missing the point. I would love to find that first drawing but it's not in the places I would guess and I don't want to look through every piece of paper I own at this time.)

T obviously got traced into toy sitting art a great deal and she arguably had more personality there than in the story she was allegedly from, if only because sitting on toys is one more hobby than she canonically had. (I always felt bad about this because she was supposed to be overly-kind the way boring love interests to softboy-egg-standins always are. Susan never gave me this trouble because it was less out of character for her and also I had less of a crush on Susan. Not none, certainly.) This really only subsided as I stopped respecting her-the-character and the stupid story she came from.

OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH OF THESE BORING CHARACTERS I AM DONE THE NEXT ONE WILL BE A SHITPOST OR A ROBOT OR MORE HORNINESS OR SOMETHING. HOPEFULLY THAT MEANS LESS WRITING AS WELL BECAUSE THERE IS NO BACKSTORY. NOT THAT THE WRITING WAS BAD PER SE I THINK IT HELPS IN SOME SENSE WITH THE FEELING THE DAY WAS NOT WASTED BUT I WOULD LIKE TO DO MORE THINGS NOW.

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tearsona · 3 years ago

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true beauty | h.c. with fem!reader | part nine

a/n: omg long a/n but first of all, this is waaaay overdue. i know i’ve already probably lost more than half of my readers but this is for the remaining few (and me) who would like to know how the story ends!! i’m going tbh, i procrastinated writing this for way too long (i’ve been enjoying my break too much), and the worst also happened, i was working on this but the whole thing got deleted so this is my second time writing the whole thing rip :[

anyway i decided this last minute but as it turns out, there will be a part 10, more like a second part to part 9 / epilogue, bc the rest was supposed to be included in here buuuut i’m going to be away for the rest of the week and won’t be able to continue writing the rest of the scenes so the only time to post is now, since i know ppl have been waiting too long for an update and i didn’t want to keep that any longer (i know id only be stressing over it the whole week if i did jsdkf). so this one and the next part are going to be super duper short but i promise to work on the last as soon as i get back ok!! it won’t take another month!!! lol.

part one | part eight

this is the right thing to do, you think.

no, you’re certain. you’re going to talk to him.

you’re going to confess to seojun tonight. soon. in a few minutes. in a few steps ahead, to the left…

your hands start to get clammy in your pockets. you feel the weight of dread on your feet, like lead.

because even though you’re sure this is the best decision, it doesn’t mean that you’re coming home with a smile on your face afterwards. in a few months, perhaps you’ll thank yourself for having done the right thing, but tonight, it’s not going to feel like so. tonight, you’re going to get your heart broken. even more than it’s already been.

after all, you’re here to get rejected… and only then you’ll be able to move on - when you’re finally rid of the what if that’s been nagging at you for so long. because you realized it wasn’t jealousy or the wanting reciprocation that made your one-sided love so frustrating, it was mainly the suppression, the constant urge to spit it out knowing you couldn’t, that had built up through time and eventually pushed you to make such mistake. after all, feelings are like the weather - sometimes calm, sometimes wild, intense. unpredictable. what happens when you try to force them still and locked in the cramped space of your heart for too long?

at most, you think you can handle the rejection. but going through a conversation that would finally cement the end of your friendship, hearing seojun tell you how much he hates you, that you’re a terrible person, or anything along those lines - will you be able to bear it?

because isn’t that what he’d asked to meet you for? to express his anger towards you? to get closure? especially since it’s been a month without talking - you know that that much time apart allows a lot of space for anything, like regrets, breakdowns, and kissing other people… or seojun finally realizing that he deserves better than you.

but there’s no running away though, because you’ve already agreed to meet with him, and you owe him to at least show up after having practically ghosted him. you’re doing it, but also not just because you need to - you’d be lying if you said that there wasn’t even a tiny bit in you that’s looking forward to talk to him, not a selfish part that’s silently hoping for the zero chance that the boy would be willing to put all of this behind for a chance to restart.

when you reach the place, seojun is already there like he said, but he fails to hear your footsteps over his thoughts. you pause at a distance, allowing yourself a while to stare at him and a bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you do so. you try to let it sink in - seojun waiting for you here… you and him, sharing the same space, un-against your will, not actively avoiding each other like it hasn’t been for the longest time. you wish you could have a longer moment where you can pretend that the past few weeks never happened at all and, right now, you’re just two best friends casually meeting up on a friday night.

you swallow the lump in your throat when the moment is over.

but before you can even gather the courage to make another step, seojun finally takes notice of your presence. when your eyes meet, you see the mild surprise that flits across his face before he’s pushing himself off the bench almost abruptly. he wonders how long you’ve been standing there.

you lumber towards his spot.

“hey,” you greet faintly once you’ve stopped in front of him. “you wanted to talk…”

the tension that immediately fills the air is thick, just a slight bit nauseating. you look up at him apprehensively and brace yourself for it - it’s only a matter of seconds before the harsh words come out of his mouth. before he confirms all of your expectations.

but it doesn’t come.

suddenly, instead, you feel yourself getting tugged by the arm until seojun is engulfing your smaller frame in his, and immediately your body goes stiff. ultimately, his scent washes over you like a wave, permeating all of your senses and clouding your brain. you almost blurt out an i love you right there, under the influence of his cologne alone.

when your brain has somewhat unscrambled itself, you finally lift your hand to rest on his back in an awkward attempt to reciprocate, causing him to tighten his embrace. he moves one of his hands to cradle the back of your head - an innocent gesture that has your mind spinning. you can feel his heart hammering against both your chests but it’s easy to mistake it as your own when it’s doing the same; in fact, you almost fail to catch his next words over the roaring of your own heartbeat in your ears.

“i miss you,” he mutters; the deepness of his voice and the way his throat vibrates against your shoulder send shivers down your spine. however, you try to focus more on his words - you debate whether you’ve heard it wrong or not as you can hardly believe it; this is obviously the opposite of what you’d been expecting this whole time, and even different from what you’d been used to - hugs were a rarity in your friendship. as well as i miss you’s.

seojun. misses. you.

your eyes sting but you will yourself to hold back. because you’d been so in denial, you never realized just how much you’d been waiting to hear those words during the past month. you’d convinced yourself that you were thankful he’d never called you once in your time apart because it made your situation easier, but deep down it hurt that he wasn’t even trying.

you immediately miss the warmth when he pulls away.

“y/n,” seojun breathes, looking at you with eyes so apologetic you almost feel pity. it takes a few more seconds before he speaks again. “i’m sorry… i realized i was such a terrible friend to you. i—”

“i’m sorry i made you feel like you were a terrible friend,” you immediately cut off, much to his surprise. you couldn’t stand to listen to him apologize when you believe with your whole chest that everything has been your fault. but just like you, this isn’t what seojun had seen coming from the other. truthfully, he’d expected you to be unforgiving, mad like you had been that night. instead, you add, “you’d done nothing wrong…”

you walk past him to take a seat on the bench that he was previously sitting on and he follows. silence lingers in the air for a few moments, both eyes now settled in front rather than the other beside. there’s so much to say that you don’t know where to begin, but you don’t feel the pressure or rush to do so. in fact, you feel a sense of familiar comfort just from sitting next to each other, despite there still being a bunch of words to be said.

words that could still possibly ruin the hopes of rekindling your friendship, you think.

“i didn’t know what you were going through…” seojun says, breaking your train of thought, “i could’ve helped you get the job… i should’ve paid more attention or asked how you were. i get why you were so disappointed. i’m sorry.”

“don’t be, it’s not your fault,” you say earnestly. seojun turns to you but you have your eyes pinned to the ground, feeling the guilt in your chest rise further the more he blames himself. it seems you’d caused him to believe that he wasn’t a good enough friend and you hate yourself for that. maybe you’d rather him be mad at you than sorry after all. you’d left your friendship thinking it would be for the better, managed to convince yourself that you were only putting yourself first as you should, but in reality, you’d handled things so cowardly that it only ended up hurting the both of you.

“how were you supposed to know about it when i never shared anything? you’re not a mind reader, seojun. don’t beat yourself up over it… i mean it,” you say, turning to him with a look of sincerity, “i was going through a lot then, but it was wrong to take it out on you. you were a great friend though. i promise.”

seojun presses his lips together in a line, feeling his heart swell at your words. “still,” he insists, “i could’ve been better, i know it. and i was insensitive with the things i said. i hurt your feelings. but i didn’t mean them that way - i didn’t mean to imply you were unlikable. or unattractive. at all. i… i don’t think you are. i want you to know that.”

you wish the butterflies in your stomach would stop fluttering at such an inappropriate time. over the bare minimum too. and so what if seojun just said that he didn’t think you were unattractive? it doesn’t mean anything. wait ‘til you get rejected later.

“i got defensive, i didn’t understand why at that time, i don’t want to make excuses but… i guess i just didn’t want to entertain the thought of—” seojun swallows, eyes previously settled below lifting to meet yours again with somewhat a hopeful look, “—suho liking you.”

you frown at his last words in particular, feeling just a bit embarrassed over it while failing to get what he was trying to hint at. you really hadn’t meant to make suho a big deal that night, you’d merely been trying to get your point across at that time, but it could have been anyone. and after what had occurred between you and the other boy, hearing the words suho and liking and you altogether in one sentence just felt awkward.

“okay,” you reply quietly. but seojun doesn’t think you really understood it the way he’d meant it; he wants to tell you, that the reason why he didn’t like the idea of suho liking you isn’t the one that he knows you’re thinking - just the obvious that he carries a lot of bitter feelings towards the boy - but another. however, even at this time where he’s supposed to be honest about everything he feels concerning your friendship, even at this perfect opportunity, he still can’t seem to have the guts to tell you the words that his heart wants to say the most. mainly because he just realized that he has no idea how things currently are between you and suho, and confessing might just end up making things more complicated. he wrestles with the thought.

seojun immediately thinks about the kiss, and it feels as though someone’s fist had clenched around his heart - it happens every time. but it only gets worse upon hearing your next words: “it’s okay, you know, even if you really didn’t. see me that way, i mean. friends aren’t supposed to anyway.”

“right,” he mutters, disappointment evident in the way he drops his gaze to his lap from yours. it’s as if the wind had blown the words straight back down from the tip of his tongue to his chest, because he no longer feels like saying it, at all. in fact, he’ll bury it there if he must, if it meant he could at least go back to being friends with you again. just like he’s done in the past.

“i broke that rule though,” you say after the dragged silence, as calmly as you can, as if your stomach isn’t currently twisting in knots over what you’re about to say next. “seojun, i got mad at you because… i liked you.”

as you expected, seojun’s head snaps up over the admission. you begin to feel even more self-conscious now that you’re under his gaze, but you will yourself not to let your nerves get the best of you and continue what you’ve started. “i liked you and i got… jealous because you kept talking about the girl you liked right in front of my face, and it was just… i was already having a bad week - bad night, and one thing kept piling into another… the makeup, the job, and then just… i couldn’t take it anymore, when you talked about suho only seeing me as a friend, i knew you said that because that was how you saw me… and it just hit, i guess.”

when you finish, you find that seojun’s lips are parted slightly, eyes wide and blinking like he’s unable to fathom what you’d just said. twice, he opens his mouth to say something just to swallow it back down. it seems that he’s hesitating over his words, or having trouble finding them. eventually though, he manages to let out, “you liked me?”

you bite your lip and hum, “i like you. present tense,” you say slowly, enunciating every syllable whilst keeping your eyes fixated on him for the reaction. he looks stunned still, and though his expression says a lot, the lack of verbal response still keeps whatever’s actually going on in his mind unclear. you feel flustered and drop your gaze to your fidgeting hands at once.

your heart doesn’t stop pounding as though it wants to break out of your ribcage but you manage to say the next words without your voice shaking so much. “when they asked you to pick between love and friendship during that trip, i think that’s when it started going bad. before then, i’d thought i had a firm grip on my feelings. i mean, even through all the people you’ve dated i was fine,” you sigh, closing your eyes for a second longer, “i didn’t just start ignoring you because i was mad at you. i just thought it would be better if… if we weren’t friends. even though i ended up being wrong anyway.”

at this point, you can’t bring yourself to look at him anymore so you don’t, but as you’re waiting for him to say something, anything, you can’t help but be highly aware of his eyes boring into your cheek and it makes you ill at ease. you mentally shudder at the fact that you’d just overshared, but you’re not sure if you regret it completely. still, it takes him an agonizing minute before he responds that you almost lose your mind.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he prompts; you attempt to interpret the color in his tone but can’t, thankfully when you look at him he doesn’t seem to be judging you. instead, his eyes remain intense but gentle, and you allow yourself to relax just a little bit at that.

“for the same reason why most people can’t tell their crushes they like them. i’m sure you know what it’s like,” you chuckle sheepishly. somehow, calling seojun a crush is even more embarrassing than all of what you’d said so far before it combined. “i’m not that bold, you know. and i didn’t to want make you uncomfortable just ‘cause you couldn’t like me the way i did, and risk our friendship changing,” you explain truthfully, “but i guess i still ended up ruining it anyway, i still couldn’t bring myself to tell you in the end and just… ran away from it, sorry.”

seojun nods, but now the expression on his face has changed into something more unreadable, and you hate every second that ticks by knowing that he’s probably feeling guilty, perhaps trying to come up with words to let you down without hurting you. what he doesn’t know though is that you’ve already prepared yourself for it; you’ve already imagined every horrible scene that could possibly roll out while on your way here, and the fact that he hasn’t called you mean things or yelled at your face even once means this is already the best scenario out of them all, meaning you’ll be alright. with that, you amend, “i don’t want you to feel bad for me. i’m just doing this so you can reject me and i can move on.”

you swear that was a smile on his face just now. unfortunately, it disappeared quicker than you could make sure.

“what if i don’t want you to move on though?” seojun asks with a playful edge in his tone, elbow lightly nudging your side but it doesn’t touch because you’re a little bit too far apart. further, he prods, “what if i want you to keep liking me?”

you stare at him incredulously, trying to decipher him. it seems that he’s finally changing back to his more confident self - to the best friend you knew. perhaps he’s trying to alleviate the tense atmosphere into something more cheerful, make you feel less embarrassed; or maybe joking is his attempt at reassuring you that things can still be friendly between you two despite how you feel about him; and you appreciate that - you’re more than relieved to know that he’s fine with all of this - but you wonder if teasing you is the best response he can do to your confession; if he’s avoiding rejecting you because he can’t.

you try to hide your disappointment by huffing out a laugh, “you’re cruel like that?”

“hmm, well…” he muses, “earlier you said you couldn’t tell me your feelings sooner because you didn’t want to make me uncomfortable but…” he pauses, and you watch him dubiously as he slides himself closer until your arms are touching, “what if i liked you back? did you not ever consider that?”

you frown. all of a sudden he’s flirting with you. you would think he’s asking you these questions because he’s genuinely curious, but the restrained smile ghosting his features, like he knows something you don’t, makes you think that he’s simply finding this whole thing funny - of course, you, out of people, having feelings for him must be such a plot twist - and here he is, taking delight in his ability to disarm you. what makes it worse is that even as you’re aware, even if you should be feeling offended by what he’s doing for his own amusement, your heart doesn’t follow - seojun’s flirtatious, hypothetical prodding seems to be taking its intended effect on you.

“well, you didn’t,” is eventually all you reply, fully intending to sound as harsh as you could, and then looking away. “stop.”

“stop what?”

“do you think this is a joke?” you snap as you glower at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. whether you’re blushing over the hypothetical, impossible possibility of seojun liking you - or if it’s due to your irritation, you don’t know. “stop… playing me.”

he’s silent. after a moment, you give in to the urge to take a peek at him and immediately regret it. because now he’s full-blown smiling, and you haven’t seen him do it in so long it somehow takes the breath out of your lungs. you blink, thoroughly dazed for a protracted moment. “w- what?”

“i said, give me your hand,” he repeats, and as if hypnotized, you obey without question. when he places it against his chest you feel it, the rapid beat of his heart, and it’s just like yours. your frown falters by a tiny fraction. “well?”

“well what?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“it’s been like this since you said you liked me,” he urges. and then, he says the next words to you as you had done earlier - slowly, and clearly, “i like you, y/n. i was being serious.”

you gulp and withdraw your hand from his, suddenly unable to make eye contact. “how? i thought you…” you trail off. liked jugyeong, you wanted to say.

“i know, i haven’t been completely honest with my feelings either,” he admits, “but i’ve liked you for a long time. even before all of the people i’ve dated… and through all of them,” he says, and it sounds too good to be true; seojun catches the flicker of doubt in your face even as you want so badly to believe him. “i guess i just didn’t know i did until… well, i mean, i kind of already knew it long ago, but… it’s a bit complicated.” you can tell he’s struggling to put his feelings into words by the way he sighs. and then, as if struck with an idea, he perks up, “let me prove it to you.”

you bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too eager when you stare at him.

“go out with me,” he says with a gentle but nervous smile, lightly tugging at the cuff of your hoodie like a kind child, before he adds, “let’s go on dates, y/n… as a guy and girl.”

you think your heart stops beating for a millisecond; you feel the familiar flutters through your stomach, only now wilder than ever. seojun looks solemn enough with his suggestion, but you realize you haven’t even thought that far yet - to be honest, you’ve still yet to process the fact that he doesn’t hate you, after all that’s happened.

there’s so much to think about, so many things to consider, but you don’t let any of that hold you back from the thing you’ve always wanted - longed for. after a thoughtful moment, you nod, and seojun’s previously tense face immediately breaks out into a grin.

“okay…” he breathes.

“okay,” you repeat, biting back a smile.

and then silence comes; you look away, shy. it seems to have hit you both at the same time - that you’d just agreed to go on dates with each other. apart from the earliest days of your friendship, you don’t think you’ve ever seen seojun look so shy in front of you. you feel a sudden thrill of excitement knowing that it’s because of you. you make him nervous. because he likes you, apparently. and now suddenly, everything feels odd… but the good kind.

later into the comfortable quietness, seojun clears his throat and breaks you out of your reverie. “hey, about that thing you said…” he starts and you quirk a brow in curiosity. “when i picked love over friendship, you should’ve known i was only trying to get on suho’s nerves,” he jokingly admits, earning a chuckle and an eyeroll from you.

“both are equally important to me though,” he continues, pausing for a thoughtful second, “but… you’re the most important to me, you know. and if i did mean it - if i had to choose, like, i really had to… whatever i end up picking, love over friendship or the other way around - it doesn’t matter. i can’t explain it, but i’d choose you over both of them. or whichever you are.”

that was… unexpected. you huff, tilting your head so your hair can fall and provide your reddening cheeks with some measure of a cover. you nudge his arm and say, “must you be so cheesy?”

when you think about it though, it makes sense. you’re not quite sure how, but to you, seojun, too, had always been more than just a best friend, and not merely because you had feelings for him - ‘friend’ had always felt too small of a label when you think about the bond you share with this person. you have a lot of friends, and none of them could ever compare, or is as special to you as seojun and suho are, who have been with you through thick and thin. seojun was your number one, your first choice, your go-to; he was the exception to a lot of things - maybe soulmate would be the closest term to call it, if it were real.

seojun laughs, reaching over swiftly but somehow hesitantly, to sweep your hair back behind your shoulder - another innocent gesture that wreaks havoc with the rhythm of your heartbeat - leaving the spot on your cheek his fingers had grazed tingling. you swear you could kiss him right now.

and it’s like he’s thinking the same thing. slowly, his smile fades, gaze still holding yours; the silence shifts, deepens, and when his eyes flicker down to your lips and he inches closer ever-so-slightly, you realize there’s nothing like this - like the anticipation of kissing someone you really like. it’s a new kind of butterflies you feel. a different kind of thrill.

but before he can actually lean in closer, you feel it - first on your eyelashes, and then your cheek. you look away, much to the other’s disappointment, and extend your hand into the air, feeling the droplets of water on the palm of your hand.

“it’s drizzling,” you point out, turning to face him. but seojun’s eyes never left your face. you stand up as soon as you feel more raindrops come, pulling your hoodie over your head before reaching out to take ahold of his wrist. “let’s go.”

you drag him to the nearest cover, running towards the convenience store not too far from the place. finally, you’re in front of the entrance under its roof, narrowly missing the rain that had just started pouring louder and heavier.

“that was close,” he mutters.

“yeah,” you sigh in relief, nodding towards the store, “let’s go buy an umbrella and walk home?”

a thoughtful pause. seojun has another thing in mind.

“or,” he smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “i’ll race you,” he suggests, so coolly that it didn’t register quick enough that he was actually challenging you. one moment he’s there to see the confusion flashing across your face, but by the time realization dawns, he’d already taken off, giggling several feet away from you.

“wha—hey!”

#also if anyone cares its my birthday :P #which is why i couldnt wait to post it today bc i wanted to enjoy the rest of the week wt my family :p #true beauty #han seojun x reader #seojun x reader #suho x reader #lee suho x reader #hwang inyeop #cha eunwoo #lee suho #han seojun #im jukyung #lim jugyeong #tbhc

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guardianofrivendell · 3 years ago

Note

💙Angst 1-Kili

Kíli x gn!reader (no use of Y/N)

Ibrizinlêkhê

Requested: yes, @themugshotexperience31 requested prompt nr 1 from the Angst list (from my 1k sleepover a few months back woops, guess who looooves procrastinating in this house?)

Prompt: I'm leaving / Of course you are, that's all you know how to do

Warnings: In my mind Kíli and angst don’t match but I tried anyways and it still turned into mostly fluff :) This is also a little long for a drabble (1.1k) so maybe ficlet is a better name? Also, in case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t any warnings really, I’m just trying to fill this space with words.

A/N: Now GYH is finished, and the writing challenges I participated in are over, I finally have time to work on the sleepover drabble requests again in between wip's!

“What do you mean, I can’t sit with you?”

You stared at Kíli, who had the decency to look guilty for a few seconds before he tried his puppy eyes on you. Unsuccessfully, and that was a first. He swallowed heavily.

Kíli had waited until the last moment to tell you the news, thinking that was the best way to approach this but of course he regretted it now. The celebration was starting in less than an hour and by the looks of it, you would be there shooting daggers at him the entire time.

“Uncle said as long as we’re not officially courting you’re not allowed to sit at the High Table. It says so in the law,” he hurried to explain.

You scoffed and folded your arms across your chest. “You mean the very same law that’s keeping us from courting in the first place?”

It turned out that there were a few lines in the law that said that the royal family could only court and eventually marry someone of the race of Dwarves. There were no mentions of other races, like yours.

So when Kíli proudly asked permission to officially court you, the Higher Council shoved that particular section under Thorin’s nose. He had no choice but to decline Kíli’s request, but not without a promise to his youngest nephew he would look into it.

“You know Uncle is doing his best to find a way. He wants us to be happy,” he said. “But you can’t change a law overnight.”

You knew that. And you were grateful that Thorin was so supportive of your courtship, even though it wasn’t official yet. But you hated that everything had to be a secret. No sneaking in kisses or lingering touches outside the privacy of your chambers, you couldn’t even hold his hand in public or stand too close to him without causing a scandal.

Not that you saw him much. He was busy with royal duties during the day and most part of the night and after that, he usually went straight to his room to crash on his bed. Which you understood, you really did, but it would be nice to see him more than a few hours once or twice a week.

“So where am I supposed to sit at the feast? I am allowed to come right, or is that also exclusively for dwarrows?”

He closed the distance between you and cupped your cheeks, lowering his head so he could look into your eyes. “It wouldn’t be a celebration if you were not there, amrâlimê.” (my love)

You couldn’t stop a smile forming on your lips. “Smooth, but you’re the only one who thinks so, Kíli. And stop avoiding my question.”

Kíli let his hands drop at his side and sighed, mumbling something that you couldn’t quite decipher. You only had to raise an eyebrow and cock your head a little for him to repeat himself, a little louder this time. “In an open spot if there is one.”

“So let me get this straight,” you began, your brows in a frown and your hands on your hips and you looked so much like his mother when she was about to give him a proper scolding that he automatically took a step back, “you want me to stand aside, waiting for everyone to be seated and then look for an open spot? Not only in the hope there is one but also knowing for a fact that everyone at that table hates me and rather see me turn around and leave? That’s ridiculous!”

“They don’t hate-”

“Yes they do! You don’t know what it’s like Kíli! I can’t walk through the halls without the whispers following me or the hateful looks. We might not be officially courting, but they know. They talk. And they take every chance to remind me that I’m not one of you. That I don’t belong.”

Your voice cracked with your last sentence and you hated it. You didn’t want to be vulnerable.

“I-I didn’t know,” Kíli stammered, his eyes wide. “I truly had no idea! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“When should I have done that? You’re a busy man, Kíli.” A sad smile graced your lips. “But it doesn’t matter. The little time we do have together, I’d rather spend it showing you how much I love you than boring you with my woes and complaints.”

He immediately wrapped his arms around you, and kissed your hair, letting his lips linger for a while, inhaling your scent. “Still, I should've been there for you. If they give you a hard time tonight, just wave. For Durin’s sake, scream for all I care, and I’ll come to your rescue straight away.”

“I’m more likely to tackle them myself, you know that. But we shouldn’t, it will only give them more reason to be against our union. I’m sorry Kili, but if that’s how it will be I won’t be in attendance tonight.”

Kíli scratched his stubble a few times, his eyes focused on something behind you, before he muttered an ‘I see’ and headed to the entrance door of your chambers.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m leaving.”

“Of course you are, that’s all you know how to do!”

He swirled around at your words, hurt flashing in his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whenever things are getting hard for you, you run. You run, Kíli, and then when you get back after a few hours, you hope things are okay again.”

Kíli stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds. He hated that you were right. But that was the old Kíli. Ever since he was with you, officially or not, he matured a lot. Funny what love could do to a Dwarf.

He wasn’t going to run now. On the contrary, he was going to fix this.

“I was leaving to go and tell Uncle I can’t attend the feast tonight. Not if you’re not going to be there. And you were right, they are acting ridiculous about this.”

“Kíli, you can’t! You have to be there, you’re the prince!” you gasped. “Don’t you think people would notice if there was an empty spot up at the High Table?”

He blew a raspberry into the air. “The only one of real importance up there is uncle Thorin, and maaaaybe Fíli. But don’t tell him I said that. Besides, Uncle will understand. He’s not all that bad.”

“But you’ll miss the feast, the big celebration! The music, the dancing, the food, Kíli! You would do that for me?”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, his forehead leaning against yours.

“In case you haven’t noticed yet, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, ibrizinlêkhê.” (my sunshine)

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing @supernaturalimpala67 @claraofthepen

Forever taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @starry-cookies @elvish-sky @moony-artnstuff @kirenia15 @hey-its-nonny @moarfandomtrash @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @justfollowtheroad @laurfilijames @fizzyxcustard @brokennerdalert

#Kili x reader #Kili #Kili x gender neutral reader #Kili drabble #Kili request #The Hobbit #The Hobbit x reader #The Hobbit fanfiction #The Hobbit drabble #The Hobbit imagine #Kili Durin #Kili the Dwarf

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jujutsubabe · 4 years ago

Text

“This is so pathetic”

Synopsis: In which you and Megumi get really touch starved after not seeing each other for too long 😌

Word count: 1.8k

A/n: reposting this cause the last one got super blocked! It got no likes at all omg

————

You laid in Megumi’s bed squinting up at a textbook you were supposed to be taking notes on. As you stared all the words blurred together the longer you went over them and Itadori’s mumbling as he read aloud made you lose focus.

You sighed before reaching over the bed to tap his head. “Itadori can you please read in your head.”

Nobora clicked her tongue from across the room, “You’re almost an adult and you still can’t read in your head!?”

“I can’t help it, it helps me focus better.” He whined.

“Well if you could, could you just,” you pinched your fingers, “quiet down a little more, I’d love that.”

“If you could read in your head I’d love that.” Nobora grinned.

As Itadori pouted you moved the text book up and down, trying to see if a change in movement would do you better. You squinted, glared, flipped pages, whatever, no matter what the words continued to jumble.

You dropped the book and looked over to Megumi, he sat at his desk effortlessly writing away. It looked as though he did this daily, skimming his eyes over the pages and flipping within seconds. He had filled notes piled all over his desk in messy, but organized stacks.

You turned your head to the few sheets of notes you took, with margins full of doodles. You had to write so much more information.

If only you, Nobora and Itadori hadn’t slacked off all day watching movies, you would be at the same level as him. Or better yet, finished!

You popped some candy Itadori bought into your mouth. You had all been studying for hours, you figured it could be time for a bit of movement.

You hopped over Itadori’s legs to the door, “I’m gonna get a drink from the vending machine, anyone wanna come?”

Nobora shook her head, “I’m good, can you bring two sodas for me though?” She fluttered her eyelashes until you rolled your eyes and held your hand out. She squealed before placing some quarters in your palm. “You can keep the change!”

“Thanks.” With what she gave you, you’d have enough change leftover to throw one penny at someone's car. “Anyone else?”

Megumi stood from his chair while Itadori looked up from his game, “I'll go.” They said at once.

They turned to each other, Itadori’s face full of interest while Megumi’s was full of anything but that. You didn’t like being around people for a long period of time, but he really didn’t like it. Especially when they were in his space for this long.

He did tell them to “go somewhere” but like usual you all didn’t listen and procrastinated all day. Leaving a loud group of teens within Megumi’s quiet space was torture, you swore if you squinted you could see him twitching every time anyone talked.

You looked between the boys, Megumi probably needed an excuse to go outside. You hoped Itadori would somehow get that.

Itadori cocked his head, not reading the room. “Nice! It’ll be the three of us the—”

Before he could finish Megumi already slipped out and slid the door shut, leaving Itadori hanging with his mouth open. Nobora laughed at him.

———————

The two of you walked in silence, Megumi thinking and you in your own little world. The sounds of your footsteps echoed as you walked along the pavement.

He wondered what you were thinking about as you hummed and blew on your hands. Your sweater didn’t have any pockets so you kept pulling your sleeves over them.

“Are you cold?” Megumi asked.

You nodded but continued to rub your hands together, “But we might get caught if we hold hands.”

The two of you were dating. Very secretly, only being romantic whenever you had definite private places to kiss and hold hands. If it was in public it would be you giving a quick peck to his cheek or his hand slipping into yours.

You two wanted it to be a quiet relationship, at least until your friends and teacher happened to catch you guys, which you were both very careful to avoid. He figured as soon as the group found out it would be full of so much chatter and teasing, something you both weren’t too interested in dealing with at the moment.

He flicked his eyes around the building then held his hand out, “No ones here.”

“Are you sure…? What if Gojo comes out of nowhere?” You checked your surroundings as you whispered.

The two of you silently listened for any rustling or footsteps of some kind. He continued to glance at you while your eyebrows pushed together, when you were focused on something he thought you had the sweetest expressions.

Even you looking frustrated made him feel soft, like today when you struggled with that book. It was cute and he couldn’t help but look at you every so often, whenever someone looked back at him he would turn and start writing something random down. He had a few piles of paper with random crap all over it… he really hoped Nobora or Itadori didn’t check his notes while he was gone.

He looked down at the hands by your sides, at this point he didn’t care if the relationship got exposed to everyone.

“Please.” He mumbled.

You pulled on your ears, leaning forward to hear him again. “Huh, what’d you say?”

He squirmed the longer you looked at him. “I didn’t say anything...” he looked away the closer you got to his face.

“You didn’t? I thought I heard you say something.” You backed down, teetering on your toes.

“I…” his tongue tied as he tried to spit out what he wanted to say. It felt like he was confessing to you all over again. He internally groaned as he lost courage to say the words that he felt were too embarrassing to share. “This is so pathetic…”

You grinned, “What are you trying to say? Is it that bad?”

He shook his head, covering his mouth as he circled his brain about how to say his thoughts. Get it together! You two are dating. This shouldn’t be that hard to express, why was he struggling so bad with this?

He glanced down at your hands, flickering his eyes between your face and them. You were shivering and he wanted to do something nice, and he also kind of didn’t see you all day. So he didn’t understand why it was so embarrassing to admit it.

You followed his gaze down before twisting your hand around. “Are you trying to ask if you can hold my hand?”

He frowned, it was even more embarrassing for you to catch onto him...

“So that’s what it was?” You pulled his hand away from his mouth, pulling it up to your lips. “That’s not bad, it’s cute.”

You gave a quick peck to his knuckles, making him let out a flustered noise he tried to eat up with a cough. His brows knitted together as he tried his best to look away, he must have felt overwhelmed or something, your hands were cold but so much warmth spread through his arm.

You two hadn’t held hands in so long, it was like that first sip of drinking cold water on a hot day. You were refreshing, well needed company after a long day.

He intertwined your hands correctly, fingers wrapped up in each other, held inbetween the center of you both.

“I missed you.” He whispered.

You grinned as you squeezed his hand, “I missed you too.”

He let out a sigh, letting the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as you two stared at each other. The crickets cooed and the wind wisped soundly against the grass, if you listened closer you could hear the whirring of cars on the main roads.

You turned your head closer to his, looking up to him as you cupped his cheek. Your eyes danced over every feature of his face as he looked down at you with his glossy, painted like eyes.

He leaned down, fluttering his pretty lashes shut as you pulled him in closer. Up until your lips touched, a light butterfly kiss that felt like a small cloud graced your face. You could feel him smiling the second your lips touched, his hands moved to your waist, pulling you in just a tad bit deeper.

Your lips were soft, pushing onto his with a gentle squish. He was a little too excited for this. But who could blame him? With the way you touched him it made him warm on the inside, you had him wrapped around your finger with every smooch.

You grazed his cheek with your hands pressing kisses all over his face. He felt himself go weak under your fingertips, every press of your lips against his face made his heart rise into his throat.

How did he get someone like you?

This felt right to him, pulling you away from friends for a night time kiss felt needed. You pulled away, tapping his cheeks while he blinked his eyes open.

His eyes glided over your features, the moon highlighting every lovely aspect of your face. He ran his thumb over your cheek, making space, about to give you one more kiss before he heard a gasp.

“Fushiguro you creep! What are you doing!?”

The two of you flipped around to see Nobora with Itadori trailing right behind her. Itadori’s face dropped open while Nobora’s face twisted into itself.

“Yeah Fushiguro, get it!” Itadori pumped his fist up and down.

You were blinking and taking in your surroundings, one second you were being romantic with your boyfriend, the next you were caught by your friends. You looked between the two wondering where they even came from.

“Why are you guys out here?”

“I didn’t tell you what sida to get and you two were taking a long time!” Nobora pinched your cheek until you apologized.

You rubbed the side of your face as you checked your pocket for change, you forgot she sent you out here. You were too caught up in this quiet boy’s eyes to realize people could have gotten suspicious if you didn’t hurry.

You sighed, nothing you could do now, Itadori was already embarrassing Megumi and you couldn’t help but giggle. As hectic as this situation was, at least now you two could show a tad more affection in public. Nothing more than holding hands, but this reaction from the two wasn’t bad.

You cocked your head, though sweet, this situation felt a little too calm… you looked around as you thought of something that was missing in this situation, like an almost full puzzle piece with one left to fill.

Itadori sighed, “I can’t believe Fushiguro started dating before us…”

“Right it’s not fair…” Nobora nodded solemnly.

Megumi scoffed as the two moped. Scolding them for ‘not minding their business’ as you laughed at them. It was so cute seeing your friends like this over your secret relationship, you couldn’t help but feel a tad bit happy your secret was released.

That was until you heard shuffling from around the corner. You all turned your heads until you heard a voice.

“Did I hear Megumi and dating in the same sentence?” Gojo slipped from the deep dark shadows below, a goofy smile wrapped around his cheeks.

Ah there it is, the missing piece.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #Fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader fluff #fluff #Fushiguro megumi x reader #I HOPE THIS ACFUALLY POSTS UGH #I am expecting 2billion notes when I get back❤️

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the-witches-you-couldnt-burn · 3 years ago

Text

Like I did with you

So I’ve been procrastinating hard during my study break for my exams, but here have a song fic!

Ghost of you by 5SOS

Genius comments: The song tells the tale of a heartbroken lover who has lost his significant other – due to a breakup or even suicide/death – and is refusing to accept the fact that she is never coming back.

I didn’t feel like writing angst and whenever I hear this song I feel like ballroom dancing (and I have).

Also thank you to the lovely people on the Maribat discord server!

Ao3

The sequel ‘It started with a whisper’ is up!

————————

Gotham Academy implemented a new ‘Study Abroad’ program due to recent funding from a local humanitarian. This program gave the students of Gotham Academy a chance to study abroad in Europe and vice versa. Countries like Sweden, Greece, Germany, Ireland and more participated in the program; offering a multitude of high schools with many different courses.

And because of that very wealthy benefactor, his son got first pick on where he would like to study. This was 100% not a forced decision at all to subtly keep track of the happenings of Paris. With that the Ice Prince of Gotham took the City of Love by storm.

He had been at Collège Françoise Dupont for the past few months, and it’s been hell. The class he had been placed into was ripping apart at the seams. There were two students that the class gravitated towards; he observed some of the others meeting in secret, without the knowledge of their respective ‘leaders’.

The first student that held the majority of the class’ focus was Lila Rossi. She was a black hole with beady green eyes, who dragged who ever was in her reach to an agonising fate. Damian saw through her deceptions and rejected her flirtations. The students that followed her, ate up whatever lie she spat out. Rossi soon learned that lies about the Wayne family and Gotham wouldn’t fly with him.

“Really? You worked with Monsieur Wayne?” The pink clad girl, Rose, squeaked.

Damian had just walked into class on his second day at the hell hole and already regretted it. He shot a glare towards the large group, “Who ever told you that is severely misinformed. My father has never worked with a minor from Europe, due to potential rumours and allegations it could cause. It is not a threat but a promise if a lie of similar caliber is spread there will be a lawsuit.” And with that he walked towards his seat in the back, the Ice Prince had cast his decree, the class’ atmosphere had frozen over.

The second student was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Those that surrounded her were Alix Kubdel, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim and the occasional secret appearance from Juleka Couffaine. They didn’t view Dupain-Cheng through rose coloured lenses, they were always grounded and opinions were respected. Damian, who was a loner without Jon at his side, was satisfied by himself; Marinette respected that and didn’t force him to socialise like Lila tried to.

So that leads us to this. He stood against a sidewall of the giant banquet hall, staring out at the crowd before him. Jon was walking to wards him with a can of sprite in hand. Jon had moved to Paris with him but had been placed into a different class. The boy who was the epitome of sunshine stuck around the Ice Prince, their friendship is an enigma to the Françoise Dupont students.

Jon’s face was flushed. He had just gotten a drink after dancing for the past hour. Tonight was the night of the Collège’s formal dance for their graduating class. Skirts of all colours and fabrics swirled, as their partners (majority of whom had matching suits) twirled them to the music.

Jon, gesturing to the crowd, asked him whether he was going to stand there all night or dance. Taking a sip of his drink a smirk appears on his face, “unless the great Damian Wayne is to much of a coward to dance.”

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Damian’s head snapped towards the taller boy, “Are you seriously using my ego to get me to dance?”

Jon raising an eyebrow, “Well?”

If I can dream long enough

The temperamental teen stormed off, grumbling about “Jon being as bad as Todd”. Scanning the room he search for a suitable partner, there was no way he would embarrass himself by dancing alone.

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

He spotted Dupain-Cheng stood off to the side, alone. She was draped in a layered white dress with black hemming. As he neared, he realised that the asymmetrical skirt was actually a light blush with her signature apple blossom flowers embroidered. She looked up at him and he straightened his stance, slowing his pace. Her sapphire eyes locked on to his, her bangs curled off to the side along with the rest of her hair in beach waves.

So I drown it out like I always do

She gifted him a small smile, a usual occurrence within her interactions with him. He offered his left hand, bowing his head slightly. “Dupain-Che—“ he cleared his throat, “Marinette. Would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?”

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Her eyes widened, not expecting the Arabian God of a teen before her to ask her such a question. She saw his temper during class during his spats with Lila and how he kept to himself without the presence of Jon. But here he was in a fitted Armani suit that made his green eyes glow, and hair messily slicked to the side. Marinette looked at his hand, glad that her makeup mostly hid her blush.

And I chase it down

“I am...” She paused to find the right word, “I am a bad dancer. It is better for everyone that I don’t participate.”

“I can think of nothing less appealing than an evening of watching other people dance.” A small gasp escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. She watched as his mouth twitch’s downwards before his facade returned with full strength. “If you do not wish, to I won’t force you. But if you’ll allow me I’ll guide you through the dance to make sure it isn’t an utter disaster.”

With a shot of truth

Marinette’s lips quirked, giggling as she took his hand, “Your funeral Damian.”

What had he gotten himself into?

The two entered the dance floor, taking up the dance support hold. Their dance had the basic steps of the waltz, with a promenade and many spins; some as a couple and some were just Mari. Damian soon found he enjoy watching the sparkles in her dress light up as she spun. It became even more enjoyable when he discovered that the dress was her own creation.

Dancing through our house

The two made quiet conversations during their dance. Damian pulled her closer by the waist as they repeated the basic steps, their bodies perfectly in tune with each other. “You are a fine dancer despite your protests”

With the ghost of you

Marinette tilted her head up at him, blinding him with a dazzling smile. Damian’s heart fluttered, the two always had a mutual respect but it seems to have grown into a fond appreciation.

From the tables scattered around the dance floor there was a blond, with his fist clenched. Lila had dragged him off of the floor as soon as Damian and Marinette made their debuts; together. The brunette was now off angrily gossiping to Alya and any other who’d listen. It was a hot topic between Lila and Alya that Marinette loved him, although now, as he watched her dance with Damian, he was unsure as to whether that was ever true. He sat there, glued to his seat, watching the spectacle before him.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

The two dancers didn’t notice that everyone had cleared off the floor to watch them. They danced in sync, no movement was made without the other following it. Adrien had realised awhile ago that even though he didn’t have romantic feelings for Marinette, he cherished her friendship. That relationship was now tarnished due to the path he took when he first revealed his knowledge of the deceptions. His father had forced him to keep Lila happy, even if it made him miserable.

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

He had lost her, and he was unsure as to whether he could gain any semblance of their relationship back.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Damian lifted his partner’s right hand and twirled her three times, they both were content within their own world. The two swayed before turning together and walking around the now open space.

But I know better now (Better now)

Marinette flushed as she realised what was happening around her, leaning towards her partner she whispered, “I think we’ve become an impromptu entertainment.”

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

Damian subtly gazed behind her seeing their peers in a circle surrounding them. He was on the inside looking out, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He whispered reassurances in her ear, he wished to finish the song before he released her from his embrace. The two drowned out their audience, focusing on each other and the beat of the song.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

The melody slowly faded off as the last lines were sung. The two finished on a basic waltz step before swaying in each other’s arms. The music ends and there is silence, blood rushed to their ears and their breaths mingled.

The two stayed in the other’s embrace, face-to-face, staring. They broke out of their trance by clapping. Looking around Marinette saw many of her peers and most of the supervising teachers applauding their performance.

Their friends broke through the crowd, Jon patted Damian’s shoulder (retracting before he got bit) while Chloe and Alix pulled Marinette back to their table to discuss what Disney magic had befallen the couple. The bluenette glanced back at her partner, mouthing a silent goodbye.

The crowd dispersed but were still buzzing from their display. Marinette was bombarded with questions, not only from her friends, but from other students about her dancing with the demon. Her stuttered replies did little to quench the crowd’s thirst. Her face must be comparable to that of a tomato.

Damian, having noticed the building crowd and Marinette’s uncomfortable stance, broke away from Jon. The crowd parted like the red sea, unwilling to be the one to anger the Ice Prince.

He offered her his arm (to which she took) and escorted her out to the patio outside. She stayed entwined with him, as she looked out at the stray Parisian night; leaning her head onto his should. Here the two could breathe. Here the two of them could be their present selves, no ghostly facades needed. It seems they could drown out anything in the presence of each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Jon had recorded their dance, along with their previous and present interactions of that night. He thought for a second to use it as blackmail material but decided to just send it off anyways. Oh the chaos it caused.

#maribat #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #daminette #adrien salt #Jon Kent has blackmail #ghost of you by 5sos #song fic #good! Chloé Bourgeois #slight Lila salt

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dippindaz · 3 years ago

Note

Hi Um it’s the anon from earlier with the Lester request

And I was wondering if u could write about Lester kinda realizing he has feelings for another man and ig how he and his brothers deal/react with that?

If u can’t/don’t want to it’s fine Bc the one u already wrote for me was so good

Alright! I’ll attempt writing this, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do it very well though. Thanks for requesting more! Also, I’m going to write this as long HCs and almost a more in depth look at the previous HCs. I’d like to do a short story or a oneshot of the idea but I’m not that confident in my ability to write this.

I was almost finished with this and then lost all my progress, of the end seems slightly rushed or not that well done, I apologize.

Warnings: Mention of knives and taxidermy, denial of being gay, slight homophobia, calling same sex relationships “unnatural”, mentions of homophobic slurs.

Unedited

In the beginning, neither Bo or Vincent understood why Lester wanted you around so badly. Even Lester himself didn’t, he just knew you seemed like a fun person. Which was definitely something Ambrose was lacking.

Bo had begrudgingly let you stay. By that I mean, he more of just gave up because Lester was persistent asf.

Originally you stayed in your own home. It was one of the smaller houses in Ambrose but you were happy with it. You didn’t want a lot of space anyways.

As the days went on you worked around Ambrose, though you spent majority of your time with Lester. You’d ride around in his truck with him and help with the roadkill.

Lester would even teach you about each of his knives and taxidermy in your free time.

You two became so close you were practically brothers! Right? Yeah, just brothers..

I think given where the Sinclair brothers live, Lester would be in denial for a very long time. I mean, he couldn’t love another man. It was unnatural, right? That’s just how he was raised.

I feel like after weeks of Lester being in denial and you hoping he felt the same as you. Lester would just be laying in bed and be like “I love em’.”

After that I think he’d be extra shy and awkward around you. He’d try extra hard to make you smile or laugh, but he’d act more distant towards you when his brothers were around in fear of his brothers not accepting his feelings.

Of course you noticed his awkwardness and how distant he was when his brothers were around. It worried you, had you done something wrong? So you decided to confront him about it.

The next time you were in his truck you just ask him out right “Did I do something wrong?”

“Wha? No! Why would ya think that?” He looked between you and the road with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know, you’ve just been awkward with me lately and kind of distant whenever Bo or Vincent are around.”

Lester stared through the windshield but his mind was far from the road. He didn’t know if he should tell you or not. Should he hint it? But he never was good at being subtle. “I- no, you ain’t done nothin’ wrong, I just, I like you a lot ya know? I worry ‘bout what my brothers’ll think.”

“So you’re distant and awkward because you’re worried about Bo and Vincent? They know we’re close, we’re like brothers.”

“Wel-well yeah, I know that, but... but I like ya more ‘en that. I really like ya, ya know? I just, I’s ‘fraid tellin’ ya incase ya tried to leave, ya know. Bo would make me kill ya and I won’t be able to.”

“Lester, are-are you saying? Do you, l-love me?” Your eyes were wide. Could he have felt the same way all along? Did he really love you too?

Lester gulped, “yea-yeah, I, uh, I think do.”

You smiled and directed your gaze to the road ahead, “I think I love you too.”

His eyes widened as his head whipped towards you, “Y-ya do?! Ya really love me?!”

“I really love you.” You chuckled, finally meeting eyes for the first time since you got in that truck.

Lester laughed, out of relief or joy he didn’t know, but began to laugh along too. Any fears or awkwardness faded and the same connection and joy he had always brought to you came back.

The two of you decided when you got home you’d tell Vincent and Bo. Of course, Bo would be after Vincent in fear of how he’d react.

Vincent honestly hasn’t cared much. He thought it was cute the amount of joy you brought each other. Yes, he found it slightly strange that you were two men but who was he to judge? He even offered to help you guys move in together!

It was an anxious few days while you and Lester procrastinated telling Bo about your newfound relationship.

Bo, however, was not so understanding. First came the rage and slurs. After he had stopped yelling he finally asked “Why the fuck are you tellin’ me this?”

You two explained to him how you wanted him to know and accept your relationship. How you both wanted him to accept you as a person.

This seemed to soften Bo a bit. It wasn’t enough for him to completely accept you but he suddenly didn’t hate the idea as much.

“Yeah, fine, if you’re askin’ to move in together you can I don’t give a fuck, don’t expect me to help you.”

Eventually, you and Lester did move in together, with a bit help from Vincent and even though he said he never would, Bo helped you out with a couple things. He always blamed it on a “you’re doing it wrong and gonna screw it up” excuse, but it showed you just how much he had warmed up to the idea of you two. Even if he never was completely comfortable with it. At least he seemed to be trying.

At first it was hard to be around Bo, even with him trying you’d get dirty looks and rude comments. As time passed though the comments lessened and the dirty looks stopped. He began to not only accept your’s and Lester’s relationship, but just you as you were. He learned having you around Ambrose wasn’t as bad as he imagined.

And the always goofy Sinclair brother only got more dorky and happy after he found out the one who loves, who he had sleepless nights over, loves him just as much.

✨Thanks for reading!💝

#house of wax #house of wax x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #slashers x reader #horror x reader #slashers x you #horror x you #house of was x male reader #x male reader

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oopsimbug · 3 years ago

Text

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

#by bug #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fluff #hope you have a wonderful day my little pots of sweet tea!

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the-witty-pen-name · 4 years ago

Text

Wallflower

18+ ONLY

Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), masturbation, dirty dreams, implies age gap (reader is in 20s+/of age, just younger than Ezra)

No use of (y/n) in this one!

A/N: I know this was not one of the things I should be working on, and I procrastinated on my coursework yet again to write fan fic. I’m so in love with Ezra and I have wanted to write something for this character for a while. It’s my first time writing for him and I was so intimidated to write something about him because his manner of speaking is so unique that I’m worried I won’t do him justice! Hopefully you all enjoy!

Next thing I post will be the final part of Rest! It is currently in progress!

I will be updating my taglist form soon to include Ezra and other Pedro characters I write for so check out for that if you want to be tagged in future fics!

This is unedited and if I miss something to tag as a warning please let me know!

Tags and Requests and OPEN

“Ezra, for once can you please shut the fuck up. You’re driving me crazy,” you sigh, pulling off your helmet as you both return to your shared pod. It was a fairly long trek from the mining site back to your makeshift home and Ezra, being himself, talked the whole time- not once missing a beat.

“Not once have I ever had the pleasure of conversing with one as eloquently a sweet talker as yourself,” Ezra winks, making you roll your eyes. You weren’t actually mad at him, you could never, but one of the side effects of Ezra was limited moments of peace and quiet. In many ways, you and Ezra were very similar, and it made you really compatible partners.

But unlike Ezra, you really enjoyed quiet. Ezra, on the other hand, has had more than his fill of quiet for his lifetime and he basked in the ability to vocalize his every passing thought to you. It wasn’t often you felt the need to tell him to stop, but today had been particularly challenging and you couldn’t think of anything else besides the quiet of night and a good rest.

Ezra and you worked well because you were so much alike, but your differences also paired you two nicely. Ezra was without a doubt the biggest and most long-winded talker you had ever met and you were the best listener, opting to be the silent one in the conversation more times than not. You weren’t necessarily shy, just someone of a quieter nature. You mostly kept to yourself, by choice really, while Ezra struggled with solitude, it was one of the strengths of yours that you were able to endure it better than he could.

When you first met Ezra, he had called you wallflower, cause frankly you were one. Settled in the far corner of the pod with your notebook in hand, sketching instead of talking with the rest of the crew, Ezra made the effort to saunter over to you and made it his personal mission since day one to break you out of your shell. Made sure during mealtimes, he sat next to you, talked to you, asked you questions. Frankly, you owe the friendship you have with him now to his openness and talkative nature.

“Flower, I hope my parley on the trek back didn’t offend,” he says as he sheds off his suit.

“Not at all,” you say with a small smile, “Sometimes my meter runs out on my ability to listen. Tires me out.”

“I suppose I can understand,” Ezra replies, “I honestly seem to have the opposite problem, all my years in the Green, I never had the pleasure of someone to listen to besides my lonesome. Now that I have you, I find myself utterly unable to suppress my desire of spoken prose and I’m afraid I do tend to take advantage of your gentle nature.”

You nod, understanding him very well. It was coming up on seven months since you and Ezra had been on your own. The other three members of your crew had parted ways with you both, seeking out a better treasure.

Ezra, knowing what this planet and greed does, insisted on just doing his job and leaving, and you strongly agreed. It had been so long since the three of them went off for the buried riches, and you don’t even know if they will be returning to your pod at your scheduled time of departure in a few months’ time. Ezra told you stories about how he’s witnessed this job change people, and how he’s seen planets swallow up one’s humanity with no forgiveness. He was doubtful that any of them would return, and you were now starting to realize that his prediction since the beginning was correct.

Once your suit was off and put away, you smoothed out your hair as best you could by touch without a mirror, and headed over to the storage cubby where you both had your rations and grabbed you both a bar. You tossed one over to Ezra and he caught it effortlessly. Peeling back the wrapper of yours, you took a bite and collapsed on your cot.

“I never thought I’d miss those meals they served in the mess hall up in the station,” you comment, “I’d take a portion of those watery mashed potatoes and mystery meatloaf in a heartbeat if it meant I never had to touch one of these bars again.”

Your words made Ezra chuckle, his laugh deep and husky. You loved it. Your chest always swelled with pride just a tad when you had the ability to make him laugh or smile. More often, it was always him getting those reactions from you with his words and you liked the feeling when you were able to return the favor.

You closed your eyes, not falling asleep, just letting them rest while you chewed the rubbery ration. Ezra, tore through his always rather quickly, and he noticed that you still tried to savor yours despite your complaints. Like the taste, even though lacking and the texture terrible, was still like a reward for completing another hard day’s work. He admired that about you. You hadn’t been working this job as many years as him, as he was a few (plus a few more) years your senior. The things about this job he’s long since ignored or has gotten used to, still affected you. You still tried to taste your food, instead of scoffing it down like him and other seasoned prospectors.

“I can feel you staring, Ezra,” you say, breaking him out of his thoughts. He felt flushed knowing that he had been caught. It wasn’t intentional, more and more it was hard to keep his mind clear of thoughts of you.

“Sorry, flower,” he mutters, and you smirk, rendering him speechless for the first time all day.

It was undeniable that Ezra’s feelings for you were bubbling up closer and closer to the surface each passing day he spent in your company. You grounded him in ways he hadn’t realized he had needed. He needed someone to reign in his ramblings and tether him back when he lets his mind wander too deep. He needed you. There was this dependency that tied him to you now more than he ever experienced with another partner. It was friendship, sure. But he’s been friendly with partners past, and not once has he felt about them what he feels towards you.

He was a hopeless romantic, his thoughts of love and relationships were as poetic as the words he spoke. Yearning, completely head over heels, his mind constantly cluttered with scenarios of the ways he would court and win your affection if there was no inkling that lingered in his mind that was there to remind him it was a bad idea. You were much more practical than he ever hoped to be, much more wired for logic than he was. However, Ezra was blissfully unaware of how he had begun to rub off on you.

You found yourself daydreaming, caught up in your own little fantasies and escapes from reality, far more often than you had ever in your lifetime. Ezra, always the star at the center of it all. Living a life where you could stay with him somewhere more permanent, different career that didn’t require you both to float from planet to planet, chasing after prizes that weren’t actually yours- you just acted as a vessel, a taxi service for someone else’s riches.

You imagine scenarios where you would have met Ezra at a different time, or a different place. However, you often scolded yourself for allowing your stupid crush to occupy so much of your time. You were here for a job. And then you will leave and move on to your next one like always. It would be too painful to face rejection anyways, you reason. You can imagine the look on his face, thinking about the nicest way possible to reject you. That’s what you want to avoid, the pity. The niceties that will be forced after his inevitable rejection. The first friendship you’ve had the pleasure of having in years are gone just like that.

The pod was more spacious than the pod you would’ve been issued had it just been you and Ezra since the beginning. Two people sharing a pod designed for six felt much more like a livable space. More leg room, more spaces for privacy, it felt a little more like a studio apartment special wise than a glorified tent. You had even pushed a couple of the standard issue cots together and secured them tightly. You had the luxury of an extra pillow, and two of the thin mattress pads- it was like you had a full-size bed, with a beam running down the middle you did your best to cover by overlapping the mattress pads in the center. It was the most comfortable sleeping arrangement you’ve ever had on these expeditions.

Ezra and you strung a line across where both of your makeshift beds were positioned in the pod, and you hung a tarp across the line to make yourselves a privacy curtain. It was like you had your own room and he had his own as well. Ezra’s side was a little cleaner than yours, yours was a little cluttered with little mementos you find and want to bring back with you. Rocks, or small geodes… occasionally you’d bring back small plants that you double checked were nontoxic and you had them set up in makeshift planters- one of the crewmates that left abandoned an extra helmet that was damaged, and now you have an obscure green and purple plant sprouting up proudly from it.

Ezra’s side was much more standard. He had a pile of his old books, all of them weathered, looking like they’d been through hell and back. He had field books, and notebooks that held his years of accumulated knowledge of how he’s survived the Green. He ended up copying your bedding arrangement, and he agreed it was the most comfortable bed he’s had in years. He said it felt like a luxury a prospector like himself didn’t deserve. He also had a small collection of rocks that lined the ledge behind his bed. Little gifts from you, all of them.

“This one reminded me of you,” you’d say, passing him a unique rock while you struggled to keep the handful of the others you collected balanced in your hands. The grin on your face when you’d collect the little things was one of his favorite sights. When the partition that separated the beds was opened, it was a comical sight. Like a bedroom of a married couple on old television shows, where they had different beds and each side was decorated to that person’s tastes. Most of the time though, the partition was closed.

It made changing easier, the bathrooms and showers in pods no matter the occupancy size always had small, cramped bathrooms. However, it created a false sense of privacy because it did absolutely nothing in terms of suppressing noises. Ezra sometimes babbled nonsense in his sleep. The man literally unable to stop talking even when he was rendered unconscious. Most of the times it was completely incomprehensible, not even sounding like real words. Sometimes you’d hear a sentence maybe, but without knowing his dreams it was still alien to you. It was comforting to you hearing him on the other side of the partition, and knowing he was right on the other side made it easier for you to sleep.

Tonight, was no different, curled up in your bed, you were drifting off to sleep while Ezra had long fallen asleep before you. The weight of today’s expedition felt like it melted right off of your body as soon as your head hit the pillow. You were close to falling asleep, just savoring the moments of comfort before letting your mind drift when you heard Ezra say your name on the other side of the makeshift wall.

“What is it, Ezra?” you whisper, grumbling that he interrupted you right before falling asleep. He doesn’t respond, and instead you hear a low snore on the other side. He must’ve fallen back asleep, you figure, closing your eyes. They shoot open a few minutes later when he repeats your name again, but this time it’s a deep moan. His voice was husky and it sent a vibration right up the back of your spine. Your eyes widened at the realization that on the other side of the curtain, Ezra was dreaming about you. You shivered when he let out another involuntary, low groan. If you hadn’t been listening you probably wouldn’t have even heard it.

What do you do? You mind is racing with trying to figure out how to handle this situation. Do you wake him up? You also try your hardest to ignore how every small noise on the other side of the curtain is just going right to your core, making your thighs squeeze together while you keep your own arousal at bay. It was wrong of you to listen in, but you really don’t have much of a choice. You force yourself to take a few unsteady breaths to calm yourself, but it does nothing to ease you in your shocked state. Kevva, the noises he was making were like music. You often wondered what he would sound like. His voice on its own is already so perfect. But in this context? You wanted to hear nothing else.

You don’t even know how long you lay on your bed paralyzed before the temptation becomes too much and you are sliding one hand down the length of your torso and into your sleep shorts. You delicately slide your hand under your dampened underwear and your fingers instinctively find your clit. You bite your lip, trying your best to suppress the whimpers that escape your lips as you think about the man behind the partition. Your months of pining for him you finally let yourself submit to.

It had been a while. There was no privacy on the pod at any moment. When someone was using the shower, from the other room everyone could always hear the rustling around, if they were humming. It was better to just not try at all. The risk of getting caught was always too high. This was the first time you acknowledged and succumbed to your desires this entire mission. It had been so difficult to avoid, but now, you are taking advantage of the opportunity presenting itself to you. You weren’t even thinking twice, just closing your eyes and imaging the fingers inside you belonged to Ezra. You were so caught up in your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that Ezra’s side of the room had fallen silent.

Ezra sat up on his bed, His eyes fixated completely on the tarp that was the only thing separating him from you. He felt shameful, waking up from another dream about you. He woke up hard, and he felt immensely guilty. Then he heard your soft moans you were trying so hard to hold back. Now he sat on his bed, completely captivated by the noises on the other side, while he pleaded with himself to either make a move or just try to ignore it and get a few more hours of sleep. He snapped when he heard his name fall off your lips in a small whisper.

“I can feel you staring, Ezra,” he hears you say on the other side of the curtain. He smiles, probably ear to ear like a goddamn dopey teenager. He stands up and pulls the curtain back, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you laid out. You had stopped, knowing your statement would cause him to pull the curtain back, but the evidence of what you were doing still lingered- your hair sprawled out messy on the pillow, your sleepshirt haphazardly pushed up exposing the smooth skin and curves to him, the slick on your fingertips and the small wet spot on the front of your shorts. You looked up at him with doe eyes and he thought he might collapse on the floor at the sight of you.

“Flower,” he whispers breathlessly in the dark. The only light coming in was from the moonlight outside from the small window on your side you had opened. He thought you looked ethereal, a sight to behold that he was not worthy of gazing upon. He’s speechless. You can’t quite make out his facial expression in the dark and you mistake his breathless tone for discomfort.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, sitting up slightly. “I just... I heard you dreaming about me; we don’t have to bring this up again. Its just loneliness getting to me…”

He tentatively kneels down in front of your bed and you move to hide your face in the pillow so you don’t have to face him. He gently cups your face in his hand, and guides you back to face him. He actually says your name, and you might die hearing it on his lips.

“If what you say is true, and this is nothing more than a lapse in judgement, fueled by the loneliness of the Green, I swear to you I shall never as I live hold this moment against you, and you and I shall commence in the morning living like it never happened. But, if there is any chance these feelings that I have harbored for you are reciprocated, please grant me this opportunity to show you how much I am completely transfixed by you.”

You are now the one rendered speechless as you try to process the new information and the proposal Ezra has offered you. You are having difficultly allowing yourself to believe any of this or anything he says is true. Part of you was wondering if this was part of a dream and you hadn’t yet realized you were asleep. You had to reach out and touch his face, feeling his stubble under your touch, any sort of evidence to know he was physically right there.

“You’re real,” you mumble to yourself, and he chuckles. He takes the hand which you had rested on his face and he presses a kiss to your wrist.

“The number of times I have thought the same thing about you,” he mutters, moving your hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Flower, please…”

“This is more than a just a whim,” you admit, exhaling shakily, “Ezra… I love you.”

“Oh, how I’ve longed to hear those gracious words on your lips, flower,” he smiles, his gaze not breaking from your face.

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss, unable to take being separated from him anymore. You move your lips against his and you can feel his smile as he moves to position himself on top of you, not even needing to break the kiss. Your limbs tangle with his, and you run your hands through his tousled curls, wanting to just let your hands touch every part of him that he would let you. He rests on hand on the back of your neck, while he uses the other to keep himself from putting all of his weight on you.

“You’re bewitching,” he says softly, as he pulls away from your lips to leave a trail of kisses and bites down your neck and collar bone. “Your beauty is unmatched by anything these tired eyes have ever witnessed,” he praises, as his hands move to slide nimbly under the fabric of your shirt.

He plans to take his time, to completely worship every part of your body and vocalize in every way how beautiful you are and how much he cares for you. His moments are slow, and sensual, making you feel like complete putty in his hands. He wants to savor absolutely every part of this shared moment. For so long has he dreamed about this, and so far, everything about you- your noises, your soft skin, all so much better than he ever envisioned. His calloused hands savor every inch of you they graze, committing how every part of you feels to his memory.

His moustache and stubble leave goosebumps behind on every part of your skin he kisses. He leaves a trail of marks behind that with time will definitely darken into small bruises, evidence he can gaze upon tomorrow to remind him this all was not just a dream. In his head, he pleads with his maker that if this is a dream may he please never wake up and suspend him in this sleep state forever. A small price to pay to have you entangled in his arms.

“I love you,” he repeats over and over as he kisses down your body, pressing kisses to every inch he can see and touch, just like he’s wanted to for so long in these strenuous months. His movements are gently, and you moan softly at the sensation of his knuckles grazing your skin as he pulls your shorts and underwear down your legs, leaving you know completely bare in front of him.

“I want to spend the rest of my days between these thighs,” he mumbles, pressing kisses to your inner thighs and his hands grab them and pull them apart gently. Like a man starved, his tongue works skillfully, giving you so much attention. Your hands tangle in his hair, and he sucks on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. He loves the reactions he can elicit from you and he loves the taste of you. You’re as touched starved as he is and he wants nothing more than to stay between your legs for hours as you moan praises, and shudder under his touch. You back arches and you can’t help but squirm at the sensations, but he holds your legs gently, keeping you in place. The first time he brings you to orgasm is by his tongue, and you can taste yourself on his lips when he finally comes up for air.

You can’t even think of anything to say to reciprocate his words, your mind is hazy and you’re overcome with the feeling. He doesn’t seem to mind, and the look on his face almost proves how proud he is to be the one who’s the cause of your current state. He’s just so wrapped up in how your body is responding to his every move, he doesn’t care you’re completely speechless. The feeling of it all was just too much to try to attempt vocalizing coherent thoughts.

When he finally pushes himself inside you, it completely takes your breath away. He makes sure to go slow, taking his time and letting you adjust. He also needs to steady himself, because the feeling of you wrapped around him is incredible. It’s perfect, and he wants to take his time, but your so tight and feel so good, and it’s been so long since he’s experienced such an intimacy.

“You’re perfect,” you moan softly at the feeling of how he stretches you.

The compliments that fall from your lips, go right to his head, inflating his ego. His kisses become more frantic, and passionate. His hands shamelessly wander the length of your body, groping at the flesh, wanting to just worship every part of you, to just touch every part of you. His rhythm is slow at first, not wanting to cause you any discomfort, but you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer and his mind is frenzied at the sensation. His movements become much more sporadic, chasing his relief as you cry out how close you are as your face rests in the crook of his neck, leaving kisses and bites on his neck, leaving your own marks on him like you were returning the favor.

“Cum inside me, Ezra,” you whisper, nibbling his ear and he groans hearing something only in his dreams manifest in the flesh. “It’s safe.”

He bites his lip and you tug gently on the ends of his hair, a moaning mess under him. The way your face contorts when you orgasm for the second time and the sensation of your release is the final sensation that triggers his own. He collapses on top of you, resting his face in the crook of your neck, whispering again how perfect you are before pulling out and rolling over to lay beside you.

You both are breathing heavily, glistening with sweat and feeling euphoric after coming down from the high. Your chests rise and fall as you both work to catch your breath before either of you speak. It’s a comfortable silence, both of you trying to recover. He looks over to you, and you match his gaze. You roll over onto your stomach and rest your head on his chest, taking a few moments before cleaning up. You rest your arm across his torso and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

Here, in the depths of this dangerous planet, you felt safe in his arms. The excruciatingly long days of physical labor, chasing after promises of riches feel fruitless now more than ever, because the best thing you ever found in the Green had been right next to you the entire time.

General Taglist:

@sassy-kassaay

@letsfly-andbe-free

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obwjam · 4 years ago

Note

would you be able to do a Mandalorian/Pedro Pascal x borrower??

I guess the plot would be where grogu finds the borrower, the borrower is like terrified to death and then mando finds them, and like he has to do something that’ll make them trust him or something?

btw i’ve been reading your stories and prompts like for two hours straight and i just wanna say that i would stay up all night reading your works instead of doing anything else i love them so much 🥺❤️

also, it’s totally okay if you don’t want to, or have a reason not to, i have no idea if you’re still doing requests and stuff or anything. thank you so much though!

ugh oh my gosh thank you thank you!!!! i love to be a sponsor of procrastination. keep up the good work. i truly love the idea of grogu just unknowingly terrorizing a tiny and i’m way overdue to write some mando g/t so let’s go!!!

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Din Djarin found you running for your life, nearly tripping over yourself and screaming so loud that he was sure the entire planet could hear. He was confused at first -- he had never seen a borrower before, and it took him a moment to register what exactly was going on.

What were you running from exactly? Well, you didn’t know what it was, but it had giant ears, tiny arms, outstretched hands and could waddle as fast as you could run. You recognized the look in its eyes, too. One word: food.

“GROGU! NO!”

At the sound of another voice, you whipped your head up and subsequently tripped over a rock. You slammed into the ground, gathering yourself for a moment before flipping yourself over and gasping at the sight.

At this point, you kind of wish that fall had killed you. The only thing worse than a bloodthirsty creature trying to eat you was the human who owned it. And, god, you couldn’t even tell where this human started and where he ended. He was covered head-to-toe in shiny metal armor, complete with a dark helmet and some gnarly looking weapons. He looked like a giant-and-a-half. You were done for.

Din cocked his head, tapping the side of his helmet to do a quick scan of you. The scan didn’t tell him much, but it showed him you were four inches tall and scared out of your wits. He frowned at how badly you were shaking.

He held Grogu out in front of him and tilted his head down. “No. No. You can’t be doing that. You hear me? Don’t do that again. No.”

Grogu stared back blankly with a smile and a patoo. Din rolled his eyes and plopped him into his pod before turning his full attention to you. He was surprised that you hadn’t tried to run away, but truth be told, you were frozen in fear. When a human was involved, there was nowhere to run.

Slowly, Din crouched down, trying to a closer look without looming too much. It was impossible to do that, but he was trying. A pang of guilt shot through his stomach as he peered down at you, cowering and starting to cry. Oh boy.

“Hey, hey...” he started, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t going to do anything. At the movement of his hands, you flinched and moved your arms up to cover your face.

Din hummed. “No, no. See?” He waved his hands a little. “No weapons. Nothing.”

You gave this curious giant the side-eye. He was clearly a warrior, or a bounty hunter of some kind. Why was he trying to be peaceful?

“What are you doing out here, little guy?” he tried, the helmet masking the true sound of his voice. “There’s a lot of imps around here. It’s not safe.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused as to what imps were, but all of your words were stuck in your chest. You couldn’t tell where this giant was looking or what he was thinking. Not to mention he was absolutely huge. Those boots could crush you in an instant.

“Hmm.” Din spent most of his days talking to a baby who couldn’t speak basic, so this should not have been as big of a challenge as it was. But you were clearly terrified out of your mind with the way your gaze was locked forward and how badly you were trembling. You looked like you were about to vomit.

“Uh, do you... do you have a name?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Din was about to try another question when the sound of blaster fire filled the air. You both looked toward the source of the sound, and Din quickly whipped his head back to you.

“You need to get out of here. There are some really angry guys coming this way.”

As soon as the giant shifted his position, you assumed the worst. “No!” you cried. “No, pl-please. I... I don’t... please... this--this is my home...”

Din’s eyes went wide as you lost it right in front of him. He could certainly understand your apprehension, but he clearly wasn’t going to hurt you. The Imperials would.

“I know you’re scared, kiddo, but when those Imperials find you, they won’t be as kind to you as I am.” You could barely comprehend what he was trying to tell you. You were far too petrified. Din looked at you, back over his shoulder, and back to you. Those imperials would be here any minute. There was no way you weren’t going to get squashed. He only had one thing left he could do.

“AH!” you shrieked as soon as the gloved hand entered your vision, but it was useless to try to run. Giant digits wrapped around your body, and you clung onto the folds of his glove for dear life as he lifted you into the air at a speed that was far too fast for your liking. Stars popped in and out of your vision as you kicked and punched and yelled in protest.

Din grimaced, barely able to feel the impact of your struggles. You were clearly overpowered, but more clearly terrified.

“This is for your own good,” he mumbled, hoping you would hear him as he plopped you down into a brown satchel that was draped over his shoulder.

Inside the bag, you were clawing for a way out. Screams of LET ME GO! went unheard as the giant started to move. Din was trying his hardest not to jostle you too much, but that was a tall task considering he was fleeing from a legion of stormtroopers who were after the kid.

There were a lot of grunts, screams and blaster bolts, but soon, all was quiet again. You had since shut your eyes and gripped tightly to the walls of the bag to stay stable and ignore the chaos, but it didn’t take long after the violence died down that you realized the giant was still walking somewhere.

“Hey. HEY!” you yelled. Din was ignoring you. There were surely more troopers hot on his tail, so he had to get to the Razor Crest and fast. He pushed Grogu up onto the ship and opened the roof to his pod before hurriedly climbing up the ladder to the cockpit. The deafening sound of the ship powering up made your stomach drop, but it all turned to a soft hum once Din made the jump to hyperspace.

Light flooded your vision, and you grimaced as that damned hand came reaching for you again. Again, protesting it would be foolish, so you just closed your eyes to fend off the headache that was sure to come when he lifted you too fast.

Din made sure to go slower this time, and when he held you out in his open palm, he finally got a sense of how small you really were. His fingers were slightly taller than you, and with your knees pulled to your chest, you were more the size of that stupid metal ball Grogu liked to play with. Maybe that’s why he went after you.

“I’m... sorry about that,” Din started, trying to sound earnest. “You were in danger. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

You finally opened your eyes. The view in front of you took your breath away. The sky was swirling blue all around you, but you quickly realized that wasn’t the sky at all. It was space. Hyperspace.

Din huffed a laugh. “First time in space?”

You nodded robotically, forgetting for a moment you were sitting in the palm of a giant. “First time... anywhere.”

Din smirked. He supposed that made sense, but it didn’t make it any less shocking -- or adorable -- to him.

“I’m sorry about Grogu,” he said, as if you were supposed to know who he was talking about. You cocked your head at him. “Grogu. The little green guy that... tried to eat you.”

“Oh.” You shuddered at the memory. “It--it’s okay, I guess.”

A pause.

“I can bring you back to your planet, if you’d like. It wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

You considered this, but something was holding you back. “What... who were those guys? What did they want?”

Din sighed. “Imperials. They were looking for me, but they were also occupying any and all territory they could. I hate to say it, kid, but even if I brought you back, I don’t think your home would be much of a home anymore.”

“It was never that much of a home anyway,” you grumbled. You were surprised that you could tell Din was waiting for you to continue. “I mean, it’s just. That green guy was not the first thing to try and eat me.”

“Oh.” Din didn’t know what to say.

“It’s fine. That’s just... how it is.” A beat of silence. “Are you... are you going to sell me?”

“Sell you?” Din was confused. “Why would I sell you?”

“I--I thought -- that’s what humans do, isn’t it? Especially ones like you.”

Din frowned. That was not something he had thought of. “No. I’m not going to sell you.”

“...so what are you gonna do with me?”

“I...” Din faltered. What was he going to do? He was so focused on getting you to safety that he didn’t calculate the long-term implications. Through his helmet, he stared at you, your eyes shaking and pleading with him for mercy. You looked so small compared to the space around you. So vulnerable. Din felt this pull toward you; that protective instinct that caused him to change his life for Grogu. At least the kid could defend himself. You couldn’t.

“You can stay here, with me,” Din offered. “Until we can find you a place to live. How’s that sound?”

“Really?” This giant didn’t seem like the hospitable type, but he just shrugged.

“You’ll be safe here,” he assured. “I promise.”

“What about... Groku?”

“Grogu,” he smiled. “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

You could barely believe this was happening. You were nearly eaten, discovered by a human, kidnapped and killed; now, he was not only offering you shelter, but something you’ve never had in your entire life: protection. Even if it was a trap, what did it matter? What would be his motivation for lying? If he was offering you a place to be safe... how could you possibly turn it down? He didn’t have to try and save you from the Imperials, but he did. Maybe he was being sincere.

You tried to hide your smile, but failed. “Y-yeah. I guess I’ll stay here. I’ll... try not to get in your way.”

“...don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Din said. He gently moved his hand to the console in front of him and placed it down, allowing you to jump off. Din marveled at how some of the controls practically towered over you. “Is this okay?”

Once you got your bearings, you slowly turned around and fully took in the beauty of what was in front of you. It took up your entire vision like the most amazing spectacle in the galaxy. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t experienced this before.

“Yeah,” you said, turning back to Din, who failed to suppress a smile of his own. “This is perfect.”

#mark this as one of the prompts that's been in my inbox for literal weeks now #slowly but surely catching up #and trying my best to get back into a groove #in this house we support din djarin unconditionally #thank u for this suggestion!#star wars g/t #g/t #obwrites

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kaeyas-beloved · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!

Could I please ask for IkeRev HCs for Ray, Fenrir and Luka. What are they like as Older brothers to a younger sister who’s still a teenager, 16/17 ish?

Thank you!

Ray Blackwell, Fenrir Godspeed, Luka Clemence || Ikemen Revolution

Warning(s): Slight spoilers for Fenrir's & Luka’s route (nothing major tho), maybe some OOCness since I haven't picked up IkeRev in some time - but other than that none (do tell me if I’m wrong though ^^)

Note: Hello! I’m really sorry for taking such a long time to write this (honestly I wrote and re-wrote this a handful of times and I still don't even know if they're that great...)

Still, I hope they’re good enough and that you enjoy them - thank you for requesting!

She/Her pronouns are used to address the reader/younger sister

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Older Brother to Younger, Teen Sister HCs

Ray Blackwell

Ray’s such a calm older brother in the sense that he’s both never intruding in on your personal space & gives you your freedom while still being able to know when he has to step up and protect you (even though he wants to protect you all the time)

Growing up the both of you were close (Fenrir was thrown in that mix too with how often the two boys hung out) But after Ray joined the army, steadily climbing the ranks and you stuck focusing on your studies you guys kind of drifted apart for sometime

You aren’t sure who started it but soon you found yourselves sending each other letters as a way to stay in touch (your letter more often than not having a picture of Belle tucked inside)

The little kitty loves you by the way - you’re his second favourite hooman (it’s cause you spoil him with cuddles), Ray’ll sometimes get jealous when the feline snuggles up to you because he thinks that his own cat loves you more than him

One day though you were walking home from school and passed an alleyway, faintly hearing someone baby talk to something. Curiosity got the better of you and that’s how you found your older brother, cross legged on the dirty street coddling one too many street cats

Though you do travel to that particular spot a lot now (usually as a way to procrastinate destress from school (or simply because you love cats like Ray does)) You’ll also keep them company when Ray can’t

Ray hates it when you go out late at night since anything could happen to you. It nags at the back of his mind a lot, that one day something might happen to his precious little sister and that he might not be there to save you. Old wounds and feelings resurface at the list of possibilities that come to mind.

He doesn’t want history to repeat itself, he doesn’t want to be unable to protect you from danger. So anytime that you visit headquarters and you stay late you either simply stay the night or have an escort take you home. You can choose which option you’d like but Ray’s not taking a ‘no’ as any form of an answer

Calls you dufus just because he can (but affectionately). Might also ruffle your hair and/or pat you on the shoulder

You call him an old man because he can’t stay up past 10PM (Ray’ll then make some kind of comment regarding Sirius and how he’s more of an old man, to which you both laugh until the man himself makes his presence behind you known)

Absolutely the kind of brother to move things you need off a shelf out of your reach before proceeding to walk away with a satisfied smile on his face

Also the kind of brother to tease you about any cute boys/girls/people that he catches you staring at or gushing about (but he’ll stop if you tell him seriously to stop)

Do you like books? Ray likes books. He has a lot of books. Take a book, please he has too many--

If you enjoy reading, Ray is constantly recommending you novels, letting you read them before casually asking you your opinion on certain characters or events when you’re returning it. But even if you're not an avid reader he may still hand you a book or two that he knows you'll enjoy

Like mentioned earlier, Ray is very busy with Army work and such but honestly, out of everyone in the Black Army, he’s the second best person to come to with homework (second only to Sirius). Especially with history. Like, you need the entire history of the Black Army or Cradle? He’s got you, he had to read up on it when he was on the road to becoming the King of Spades.

Really, you could just pop right into his office at anytime, ask your question and Ray will be able to answer without missing a beat before going back to whatever he was doing

You can always come to Ray for anything. Questions, complaints you name it he’ll listen to your woes/answer however he can.

You guys bond over your teacher(s) giving too much homework; Ray reminiscing when he was your age and in high school - he completely understands the struggle (it was excruciating. All the work prolonged the sweet embrace of a good night’s sleep T~T)

There’s someone who’s picking on you? Don’t worry he’ll deal with them >:)

He might not always know how he can help or comfort you since he’s not the best with words when it comes to certain things, but that won’t stop him from at least helping where he can

Will never let anything happen to you -- Ray protects you with his life and he'll use any power he has if it means that you can walk out unharmed, that’s how much he cares for you

Fenrir Godspeed

Fenrir doubles as both your older brother and your best friend

110% flaunts how you’re the coolest little sister a brother could have to anyone that will listen (most of the time it’s the Black Army tho)

Flips between calling you by name, ‘sis’ and any other ridiculous nickname he can come up with (but don’t worry - you have an equally stupid name for him)

Considers you his best buddy (aside from Ray that is)

Fenrir’s also the kind of brother to pat his sister’s head, ruffle her hair, give gentle noogies and shake her around by the shoulders/poke her playfully then go ‘wasn’t me’. Just like these wholesome little things that mean no harm or anything

I also like the idea of Fenrir giving his sister piggyback rides - it's just a nice thought, please don't take this away from me I beg of you T-T

Best bro Fenrir picks you up from school every day, no ifs, ands or buts! Usually, he’ll buy you your favourite sweet/snack and give it to you when he gets there.

Brings Shu Shu along as well and the three of you will talk about what happened at school or anything exciting that may have happened as he walks you either home or to the barracks

You’re both very chaotic + Ray joins in too most of the time. Quite a few pranks happen when you’re at Black HQ (RIP the Black Army when you come over and you three triple team them).

Harmless pranks I promise!

Fenrir may take one of your belongings (a brush, your favourite book or an accessory) and run around the place with the only way of you getting it back is to catch him

There was this one time you snuck tomatoes into his food to see if he’d notice.

Spoiler alert: he most certainly did

After that he kinda ignored you for the rest of the day as payback, pouting and pretending like you weren’t there, saying stuff like ‘huh? Did you hear that?” At the end of the day though he wasn't mad and was able to laugh it off (it doesn’t erase the betrayal he felt tho)

Once in a while you’ll also poke fun at his fear of ghosts, saying off hand that there’s one at the end of the hall, down in the cellar or behind him. You never go too far though - not after the time that a prank of yours left him really shaken. You’ve never seen him so scared in your life and don’t plan to again.

Oliver’s soul nearly left his body when he first met you and learned that you took after your troublesome brother

Fenrir loves helping you with any school work you have cause he likes being a dependable brother for you! …The only problem is that sometimes he doesn’t know how to. Like, he grasps the basic concepts of what you’re talking about, but if you ask him how to calculate acceleration or a parabola he draws a blank - you’ve lost him.

Pls cut him some slack tho he’s trying his best and just the thought alone is sweet 🥺

Compared to his best buddy Ray, the Ace of Spades has quite a bit of free time, which he spends by dropping by the family home where you still live for surprise visits.

Most greetings start with “There’s my favourite sister!” with you adding on “I’m your only sister Fenrir…”

You still welcome him with a smile, open arms and a hug :)

Swears up, down and on his life to keep you and army affairs separate, he’s NOT going to expose his little sister to the violence that comes with his occupation. He stands firm on this decision. This topic is one of the only times you’ll see him actually serious

You’re not stupid though, you know what goes on, and, because of this, every time you hear in passing that the gun crazed Ace of Spades was at it again - launching himself straight into battle - there’s this pang of anxiety that rattles you to your core. You’re sure that there always will be no matter how much times passes

As a sum up - very loving and goofy brother/best friend with the addition of lots of pranks and battle scares 😎✌️

Luka Clemence

You know how in game Luka starts off as kinda cold to MC/Alice? Yeah there's none of that with his little sister

Usually when hanging around her he's most of the time adorning a small smile cause he finds joy in being around her

The relationship you have is a VERY close one considering that, while growing up in the prestigious Clemence household, it was basically you and Luka against the world

Sometimes Luka fears that you’re really lonely back at home because he’s not around as much as he used to be ever since joining the Black Army. Therefore, every week he’s set aside at the bare minimum a whole day (or at least an afternoon/evening) to go visit you - or for you to visit him!

Y’all cooking buddies and I’ll die on this hill

Luka teaches you any and everything he knows about cooking all the way to baking. He’ll even write down recipes for your favourite dishes so you can make them when he’s not there.

Whenever you’re visiting the Black Army and it’s Luka’s turn to make dinner you pitch in and help. He’ll make some of the dishes while you make the others.

The Black Army adores your cooking since you have such a great teacher/brother

Luka lets you hold/pet/feed/take care of Stone. You’re the only exception he makes when it comes to his furry companion

Don’t swear around him he’ll die (that is, after getting told by the other Black Army officers why it's such a bad thing and a big deal)

Lets you hold his sword once but you ended up nearly toppling over because it was heavier than you first anticipated.

Would play the violin for you while you study if you asked him, especially if you bring up that it helps you concentrate better

Sibling fights are non-existent. The only time that there’s a chance of you butting heads is when Luka starts pushing himself too much with training or the conversion involves Jonah

Speaking of the Queen of Hearts--

It’s a constant tug of war between the two brothers on who gets to spend the day with you. Luka’s scowling, Jonah’s pouting and you’re wondering what you have to do to get your brothers to get along (or at least have it where you’re not in the middle of it all)

Very supportive of whatever you want to do with your life. Luka also tells you every once in a while that you can always come live in Black territory or even the barracks when you’re a little older if you want to

All the more should Jonah/your parents ever try to enforce something on you (like some kind of lesson/social norms for Red Territory that you don’t like etc.). Luka will 100% whisk you away into Black Territory to get away from it all, just say the word.

All in all each of the boys are wrapped around their little sister's finger and would do anything to keep her safe and happy :)

-------------------

Thank you again for requesting!

[Masterlist]

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wolfieamwhitevoid · 3 years ago

Text

Requested by @sansxfuckyou (well it's actually that I ask them if they want a writing request and stuff like that-)

Requested a angsty Epicross-

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Just Friends to You (One-Shot)

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Warning this story has the following statements:

Angst

Lime

Sanscest

Poor writing skills

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A heart-wrenching, numbing shatter penetrated into the once joyful SOUL that belonged to Epic. No matter how many times Epic replayed the crushing scene inside his shocked mind, it had token him almost 2 whole hours to fully break down on the bare, immaculate white floor when he finally did processed it.

Earlier in the rather boring day, he had teleported into the blinding white space, best known widely as the Anti-Void, to see if he could find Cross. It doesn't matter how many times he has teleported into the Anti-Void, he still didn't like the way that it hurts your eyes, or eye sockets in this instance, and the ever deafing silence it brings.

Putting those uncomfortable thoughts aside, he started roaming at a rather slow yet steady pace, as he embarks in his search for his meme friend and secret crush, Cross.

After a long and headache inducing walk around the bare white of the Anti-Void, he spotted a monochrome themed skeleton. Epic grinned happy at that, even as he starts speed-walking towards the monochrome lad.

But as soon as he started strolling towards Cross, he suddenly stops when he also finds that there was a yellow themed skeletal lad and a goopy black, octopus-looking skeleton lad with Cross.

Just as soon as he stops, when he found that two other skeleton's were uncomfortably close to Cross, he slowly starts to go back in walking towards the monochrome themed lad, taking note that it was Nightmare and Dream that was with Cross. He stops again when a goopy tentacle slithers inside of Cross's complicated shirt, the tentacle being careful as it does so. A hurtful ping went towards Epic's SOUL at this.

~~~~

A soft yet chilling chuckle left Nightmare's teeth when he saw the bright purple blush spreading across Cross's cheek bones. Dream sent a harsh, jealous glare towards his brother, Nightmare, when he saw that Nightmare was able to successfully get Cross to blush profusely.

Nightmare grinned at the harsh glare, feeling the negative energy coming off of Dream. Dream glared some more before he too started grinning. At this, Nightmare lessened his grin, feeling confused at this. Dream grinned even more as he leans in towards Cross, giving a very deep and passionate kiss at the blushing lad. Cross went still for a second before melting into the heated kiss.

Nightmare frowned at this, being upset that Dream was kissing Cross so passionately and without him. To combat his now bitter mood, more of Nightmare's tentacles started to delicately touched more of Cross's body, the slight burning sensation leaving a nice effect on the monochrome lad bones.

A loud yet muffled moan left Cross's mouth, the deeply passionate kiss still being in affect. Once Dream finally moved away from the deep kiss, he smirked proudly at his work. Cross was a trembling mess, panting and giving out soft, sweet moans in his wake, a small bit of magic saliva dripping down on Cross's chin.

Nightmare was quick in giving a deep and passionate kiss towards Cross too, not even giving the lad a chance to get his breathing under control again. The burning feeling bloomed like wildfire when Cross allowed this to happen to him.

A soft yet dragging long moan left Cross's mouth again, as he melts more into the toxic burning sensation that is of Nightmare's goopyself.

Epic just watch all of this unfold, a numbing haze clouding his shattered mind, his eyelights now gone. His body going into auto-pilot, as he teleports away from the heated scene.

A single silent, translucent purple tear rolled down from Epic's left eye socket, as he teleports away.

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The next time both Cross and Epic saw each other, was in a peaceful yet random AU. Tall pine trees towered over the monochrome themed and purple-black themed skeleton lad's. A soft, numbing breeze settled around them, as the two stared at each other for what seemed like an agonizingly long time. None of the two spoke up towards each other, the atmosphere growing even more awkward as more time past by.

After what seemed like a decade, Cross finally spoke up, worry in his soft voice.

"Why have you been avoiding me for the past 3 weeks dude?"

Epic didn't answer that right away, trying to make up a believable lie in his exhausted mind. When he couldn't think up of one, he just told a question in return.

"How was your time with Dream and Nightmare?" The lad's eye sockets growed wide a small bit, not meaning to sound so bitter and hurtful with his words.

"How-"

"I saw you guys having fun with each other in the Anti-Void. When I was looking for you, bruh." Epic cut in, stopping Cross from speaking any more.

Cross give a silent "Ah," to that, blushing lightly at the mention. More awkward silence fell between them.

Epic looked away at Cross at some point in the silence, hot magic tears rolling down from his eye sockets. Cross grew worried for his friend when he saw this. To calm down the growing worry in his SOUL, Cross lightly walked towards his friend.

The purple and black themed skeleton dropped loudly onto the fluffy white snow, that was on the icy ground, a choking sob sound leaving the lad's mouth. Cross grew even more worried at this, walking faster and dropping down onto his knees when he got to his destination, cups Epic's cheeks.

Epic just cried even more at this, leaning in on the warm skeletal touch.

"Would you like to tell me as to why you're upset dude?" Cross softly whispered, trying to figure out what upset Epic.

Epic stayed silent at this as small whimpers leave through his closed teeth. After a couple minutes of just Epic crying his SOUL out, his skull laying onto Cross's shoulder at some point in Cross comforting the lad, he finally mumbled something that left Cross in shock.

"Bruh-h, I had a c-crush on you for a while n-now. Seeing you being al-already taken by two other's, hurt me d-deeply."

More sobs left the purple and black themed lad as he curls in on himself a little bit, moving away from Cross's much needed touches. Cross blinked at this, as his shock leaved him.

"I can't return your feelings dude, but I'm happy that you've told me this." Cross quietly whispered towards Epic, giving a small smile at Epic.

Epic broke down completely at those words, giving up the last bit of hope for all of this to just be a mistake into the fire. Cross hugged Epic tightly at this, burying his skull into the lads neck, as he stays silent for Epic.

------------------------------------------------------

I don't know how to proceed after the last sentence, so I'mma put a cheeky cliffhanger in you guys. Hope you like this story I've made, @sansxfuckyou, I've spent 4 or 5 hours on this, during the night time might I add, to this decent fanfiction I've made, so- (I was procrastinating for a week + some days before getting around to writing this-) (not putting blame on anyone but myself-)

It's like 5 something in the morning now so-

But anyways, constructive criticism is welcomed!

(I've also put this in Wattpad. I do hope you don't mind that-)

#request #i was testing things out #writing #epicross #undertale au #nightmare sans #dream sans #nightmare x cross x dream #angst #undertale fanfiction #sanscest #lime #poor writing-

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vodkassassin · 4 years ago

Note

LiuShangMo and LQG seeing MBJ being handsy with SQH and throws hands. That's *his* squirrelly fellow Peak Lord! SQH is scared and horny, while MBJ is dazed and like "Oh no I want both" while getting thrown through walls.

Wow Cher, go take a drink of water, you sound a little thirsty there 👀

I think I gave Shang Qinghua too much power in this... eh. When you snap, you snap! He deserves it. @cherfleur

—

Shang Qinghua drops the scrolls onto the large, ornate desk with a heavy sigh, wiping one hand across his brow. He looks down at them and contemplates just leaving them there for future-Qinghua to deal with, but the voice of reason at the back of his head makes a sarcastic quip about how well that always works out for him, and how he’s always so exhausted whenever he finally does return from a long day only to find unfinished work that he’d procrastinated, and so he resigns himself to sorting through them now.

Each scroll gets slotted neatly into its respective shelf above the desk, a miniature library of diamond-shaped holes that expand just above the area of the workspace. There’s another shelf to the left of the desk that rises up from the floor and reaches halfway up the wall toward the vaulted ceiling, veritably filled with even more scrolls and work that honestly Shang Qinghua would love to never have to ever think about again, but….

Even if he never actually signed up for this, it still is technically his job. So.

He slides scroll after scroll into the loose system of organization he has going on here, far less complicated than the one he’d had to design for the actual, legitimate library of the Eternal Winter Palace. Shang Qinghua can still remember the soul-consuming, absolute horror he’d experienced the very first time he’d walked into that place, when Mobei Jun had been showing him around, years ago. If he hadn’t remembered the details of the demonic history he had plotted for this part of the Realms in his first life before, then he certainly knew all of it and then some after he’d been forced to, for the safety of his own mind, reorganize the entire, expansive ancestral libraries of the ice demons. An endeavor which had taken him just under a decade to complete.

The demons, it seems, had little to no sense of organization in their lives. They just wrote down what needed to be written and then stashed said document or scroll into the dark library to never be seen again. Heavens forbid if anything needed to be dug up for later referencing. No fucking wonder the political atmosphere of the demon realms were so stagnant and slow.

Anyway. They weren’t like that anymore! Shang Qinghua has since taught them all better. Every single demon in the palace, from Mobei Jun to the youngest kitchen maid, knows the system of organization that Shang Qinghua has worked so hard to put into place, as well as what would happen if any of them were to ever attempt to somehow mess it up.

“Hey,” a bored and impatient voice sounds from behind him. “Are you done?”

At the demand, Shang Qinghua turns away from his desk and gives his companion a narrow glare.

“You know, you didn’t have to come with me,” he shoots back, annoyed.

Liu Qingge’s arms are crossed over his chest, and he glares right back at him from where he’s leaning against the door of Shang Qinghua’s palace suite.

He mutters something, and Shang Qinghua raises an eyebrow, planting one hand on his hip. “What was that?”

“I don’t trust these demons. Had to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” Shang Qinghua asks, exasperated. “That they’re not planning to attack the sect? That I’m not giving them inside information?”

Liu Qingge scowls. He’s such a scowly man. Shang Qinghua doesn’t remember writing him like this. “No,” the swordmaster says shortly. “I— We know you’re not. Nobody thinks that, not anymore.”

“Then what are you here to ensure? That I’m safe? Because I am safe, Liu-shidi. I’m safer here than I could be anywhere else.” Thanks to his king, there hasn’t been a single attempt on Shang Qinghua’s life in two years! It’s honestly a new record. It just proves how much of a valued and efficient worker Shang Qinghua is considered in the palace. Makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

For some reason, however, his words only make Liu Qingge even grumpier. The man’s hand clenches around the hilt of his sword and he makes a very angry face. Thankfully, it’s aimed at the ground and not at Shang Qinghua, so he knows that Liu Qingge isn’t exactly enraged with him. The fact that he’s enraged at all, though, is still a little nerve wracking.

Shang Qinghua takes a tiny step back. This makes Liu Qingge glare even more fiercely, and the An Ding peak lord does his best not to tear up out of frustration. What the hell is wrong, Liu-shidi? Please tell him, so Shang Qinghua can find some way to fix it so that you’ll stop looking so scary!

Liu Qingge huffs, turning away from him to stare out of the open door instead of at him, like he’s some sort of guard.

“Shidi…” Shang Qinghua hedges, fidgeting with the tail end of his hair ribbon and biting his lip in thought. Is the man even going to answer him?

“There are many powerful demons in this palace,” Liu Qingge finally says, shortly.

Shang Qinghua can feel his soul already exiting his body. “Liu-shidi! Please don’t challenge anyone here to a fight! They take it very seriously in the demon realm! There’s no such thing as sparring. It’s all just fights to the death. If you challenge one of them, they’ll definitely take you up on it!”

Ah! That was absolutely the wrong thing to say! Liu Qingge glances over his shoulder, face thoughtful and considering, and Shang Qinghua can see the glint that enters his eye at his words.

“Shit, no, I meant — Liu-shidi! Liu-shidi, come back here!”

Too late, Shang Qinghua! He’s already out the door, stalking down the hallway like a tiger on the prowl. Fuck Shang Qinghua’s life, honestly. The An Ding peak lord’s shoulders slump, and he hangs glumly from where he’s grabbed onto the door frame, staring down the now-empty corridor with dead eyes.

“Please behave, Liu-shidi,” he whispers. It’s a prayer that he already knows isn’t going to be answered. “... Goddammit.”

Since it’s highly unlikely that Shang Qinghua would catch up to his fellow peak lord before Liu Qingge could make good on his desires and goad a fight out of someone, he decides to leave this, at least, as a problem that is definitely for future-Shang Qinghua to worry about. He closes the door and walks mulishly back over to the desk, grabbing a scroll off the shelf and sitting down to get to work on calculating the tax deficiencies for this month's collection from the merchants in the capital.

Because there is always deficiencies, and the treasury staff of the palace are…. They’re just not really mathematicians. They’re just highly susceptible toward making too many mistakes in the overall count, and mistakes only exist to make Shang Qinghua’s job more difficult. So, he’d long ago told them to just worry about the count of their own departments, and leave the final calculations to him.

It’s a good hour later that the door opens again, and Shang Qinghua is so deep in the slog of long multiplication that he doesn’t even notice someone else is in the room until a large hand settles roughly over his head.

He sits up with a startled sound, lifting his hands to right his hairpiece that’s been knocked askew, even as his face is forcibly turned around and he gets a big eye full of bare chest and black furs.

He blinks, and then jolts out of his chair to stand at his feet and give the scowling Mobei Jun a bow. “M-My king! Forgive me, I didn’t see you come in.”

Shang Qinghua cringes at his own words, glancing fleetingly up from beneath his eyelashes at the demon, who only continues to stare down at him in a glower. Why is his king so goddamn scary all the time? Doesn’t he have any other expression? Why is he so much like Liu Qingge?

And why, oh heavens why, is it so attractive?

You useless fucking gay, Shang Qinghua berates himself from the safety of his own mind. Focus! Let’s do our best not to get beat up today! We’ve been doing so well!

“U-Um, my king…” he tries, hands desperately trying to both keep his hair in order but also not rudely knock the king a hand away. “M-My hairpiece….?”

Mobei Jun’s icy cold stare moves from Shang Qinghua’s face up to his previously neat half-bun, and he finally removes his hand. The peak lord breathes a sigh of relief, fixing his hair while the king takes half a step back and instead looks over his desk, where there are half open scrolls and an ink stone that has been brought nearly to the end of its usefulness.

“You’re working?” Mobei Jun asks, reaching out to touch a finger to the edge of one of the scrolls.

Delicate, tiny vines of frost swirl out from beneath his fingertips and into the paper, and Shang Qinghua makes a noise of panic as he reaches forward to snatch the scroll out from under his King’s hand before the ice can ruin the paperwork.

Mobei Jun retracts his hand, expression dark.

“M-My king…” Shang Qinghua quails, stuffing the scroll into a random empty space on the shelves, disregarding the organization system entirely. He takes the smallest, tiniest step backwards, but the desk hits the back of his legs.

“Shang Qinghua.” Mobei Jun says, simply. It’s enough to send the alarm bells ringing in the peak lord’s head.

The king reaches out the same hand, Frost still costing his long, pale fingers, and Shang Qinghua uselessly ducks his head as if there is any way he could possibly dodge the touch.

He expects his king to grab him by the ear, or the hair, or even the chin like he so often does, but instead the wall next to Shang Qinghua’s desk explodes.

Hm.

That…. What?

Shang Qinghua opens eyes he doesn’t recall ever closing, to stare incredulously at the spot where Mobei Jun had previously been standing. The king is no longer there, the room entirely empty except for Shang Qinghua himself, and here is a large, gaping hole torn in the wall to his left.

It takes a few seconds for Shang Qinghua to reboot from his shock, but once he does he slowly walks over to the hole and climbs over the rubble and debris that decorates the floor and peers out of it into the outer hall that it now connects his suite to.

Ah, there his king is, several yards away, brows pulled down in a deep scowl and blade crossed with a rather vicious and antagonistic looking Liu Qingge.

Shang Qinghua figures that he should have probably guessed.

He watches the two in silence as they go at one another as if they’re trying to kill each other, as they most probably are. Liu Qingge makes to go for his king’s throat, but Mobei Jun summons a jagged spear of ice to redirect his blade and bring his own blade, shimmering and blue just like the outer walls of the palace, around toward Liu Qingge’s unprotected side.

Liu-shidi isn’t the peak lord of Bai Zhan for nothing though, and quickly reveals the weakness as only a bluff, taking advantage of the placement of Mobei Jun’s blade to strike out with his leg and disarm the demon of his sword. The weapon shatters against the ground, and Mobei Jun summons a spear to replace it.

Shang Qinghua steps away from the hole in his wall, gazing wordlessly at where there had once been a shelf. Of scrolls. Neatly organized scrolls. Scrolls which had been filled with data and information that Shang Qinghua still had need of. Paperwork that was either already completely or still awaited completion. He can spot some of those scrolls littering the ground, many of them partially or entirely destroyed by the rubble.

Shang Qinghua brings up a hand to press his forefinger and his thumb down against the sides of his nose. He runs at the bridge, attempting to preemptively lessen the impending migraine, already knowing it would be futile. The clanging and clashing of swords in the hall over isn’t helping.

He steps back toward the hole. His foot catches on a discarded scroll and sends it skittering across the floor. Shang Qinghua feels like crying, a little. He takes in a deep breath.

He watches silently as the scroll hits the frame of the door and rolls to a stop at a pair of boots. Shang Qinghua follows the legs attached to said boots and up until he sees the face of a servant demon standing in the doorway, staring at him in stunned surprise. He watches as the demon glances over at the hole in the wall with wide eyes, as he takes in the mess of rubble on the floor and, finally, Shang Qinghua sees the exact moment the demon spots the buried scrolls.

The blood drains out of the servant’s face, and his eyes flit over to stare at Shang Qinghua. The peak lord isn’t sure what expression he’s wearing, since he’s been doing his best to keep it as blank as possible, but whatever is in his eyes makes the demon take a step back.

The servant sketches a hasty bow, turns tail and runs.

Huh.

Shang Qinghua steps back over the rubble to stand on the hole in his wall. His shidi and his king are still at one another’s throats, snarling insults and causing damage in the interior structure of the corridor. There looks to be another hole in the wall, in the very near future, and —wow! Shang Qinghua clenches his trembling hands in the sleeves of his robes, and jumps down from the hole and into the corridor.

He’s had enough! Did anyone up there hear that? System? God? Shang Qinghua has had enough for today!

The An Ding peak lord stalks over to the two opponents currently fighting to the death in the hallway beside his room. They’re so absorbed with one another and the next possible move they could make against each other than they don’t notice Shang Qinghua approach until he’s already got his hands fisted in their collars.

Shang Qinghua floods the musculator of his upper body with his own qi and gives a sharp, vicious tug with both arms. There are twin noises of surprise as both his king and his shidi go tumbling to the ground.

They whip around to stare incredulously at him, both of them offended and incredibly pissed, teeth bared. They look so much alike in this moment that if Shang Qinghua wasn’t just as pissed himself, he might have laughed.

“Shang Qinghua—!”

“What the hell do you think your d—?!”

“Shidi,” Shang Qinghua hisses, and Liu Qingge abruptly rears back, words cutting off.

Mobei Jun falls equally as silent, sitting up to regard the two of them silently, his analytic and battle-oriented mind likely trying to puzzle out what has the fierce warrior that he’d just been fighting on equal footing so hesitant to interrupt the weak and pathetic scribe that Mobei Jun has before used as his own punching bag. His king is so incredibly observant! It sucks that Shang Qinghua is way too mad right now to appreciate it like he normally would.

Liu Qingge shifts onto his knees, sword held over his legs in one tight fist, and he glares up at Shang Qinghua with a clenched jaw.

The An Ding peak lord isn’t having it, though. He’s way past the point of having it. He can already feel the migraine coming on.

“What the fuck,” he demands, “do you think you’re doing?”

Liu Qingge only continues to glare at him without reply.

Shang Qinghua reaches down and unsheathes his blade. Mobei Jun’s eyebrows rise up in obvious surprise at the move, but the king remains silent.

“What,” Shang Qinghua says, “were either of you thinking?!”

Mobei Jun frowns. “Shang Qinghua, you speak like that to this king?” He finally demands, eyebrows scrunched in anger.

“No, my king. No. Forgive this one his impudence, but,” Shang Qinghua holds up a finger, “shut up. Shut up, or I’m going to shred your body through a woodchipper and serve the remains as a shaved ice dessert to your court of bureaucratic idiots at the next feast. Shut up.”

Mobei Jun blinks in outrage, but doesn’t appear as if he knows how to respond to that. He glances between Shang Qinghua, who continues to stare down at his shidi, and Liu Qingge, who glares back.

“Shidi.”

Liu Qingge hunches his shoulders. “He was going to grab you. He should not have tried.”

“You tore a hole in my wall, Liu-shidi! You destroyed my shelf, and half my paperwork and scrolls! You put me back months in terms of work! Months! Liu-shidi!”

Liu Qingge gruffly turns his head away, belligerent scowl on his face. He clutches his sword in his lap like he wants to use it again, but isn’t yet sure on what.

Mobei Jun leans over into Liu Qingge’s space.

Liu Qingge narrows his eyes at him.

“What’s a woodchipper.”

The Bai Zhan peak lord glares. “I. Don’t. Know.”

“Both of you, look at me!”

Mobei Jun stares back at the swordmaster, eyes growing more and more intense, and Shang Qinghua grows more and more furious the longer these two toddlers ignore him.

“... What is shaved ice?”

“Isn’t it self-descriptive?! Shut up!”

Shang Qinghua drops his sword carelessly back into its sheathe, having not drawn it completely free to begin with, and slaps both his hands to his cheeks in frustration. He lets out a growl, glare fixated at the ceiling, before reaching forward to grab his martial brother by the collar.

“My king, Fix the wall with your ice for now.” He says, not even considering the fact that he’s ordering around Mobei Jun, something he’d normally never dare to do. He turns on his heel and begins to drag a sullen and red-faced Liu Qingfe behind him as he goes.

“Liu-shidi, come with me. You’re going to clean up the mess you’ve made, and then you're going to redo any paperwork you’ve lost me. Do you have any idea how many months worth of work you just destroyed? I am going to fucking flay you alive with nothing but a pair of chopsticks, Liu-shidi!”

Liu Qingge slumps in his hold. The man doesn’t even get to his feet. He remains seated stubbornly on the ground and mullishly allows the still-ranting Shang Qinghua to drag him across the floor and away from the silent Mobei Jun, who stares after them in confusion. The Bai Zhan peak lord crosses his arms and scowls, not meeting the king’s eyes.

After they leave, Mobei Jun regards the hole in the wall of the corridor and how, beyond it, Shang Qinghua’s workspace is completely demolished. He wonders why the man hadn’t just gone back through the hole, instead of walking the long way around.

Then, he spots the half destroyed scrolls that clutter up the floor, and winces. Ah.

#svsss prompts #shang qinghua #liu qingge #mobei jun #moshang #MoShangLiu #vodka answers #vodkassassin fanfiction #cherfleur

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ttttaehyungie · 4 years ago

Text

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 5

previous | next

series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, smut, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 5.2k

chapter rating | 18+

warnings | angst, smut (but it’s angsty smut lksjdflk help), nipple play, dry humping, alcohol consumption, someee intense jealousy

a/n | FIRST OF ALL im so sorry this is so incredibly late lskjdflkjs life has been extremely busy for me 😪 but it’s here!!!! thank you to everybuddy who’s been waiting patiently for this 🤧🤧 but i think this is one of the most angsty chapters of the series soooo 🙃

Namjoon’s an expert at avoiding uncomfortable topics, even if they’re massively serious. It’s something you absolutely hated and it was the cause of many arguments in your previous relationship, and perhaps was even the ultimate cause of your breakup.

But right now, you’re really beginning to understand the appeal.

The first time he swung by the museum for lunch after his birthday celebration - a paper bag in hand filled with bagels still warm and toasty from the store on the corner that you adore - you were caught entirely off guard.

Your mind jumps to the unread messages sitting in your texts and you regret ignoring them. Not because the guilt had hit you, but because maybe if you had been contactable, you would have received a heads-up that he was coming by.

Some might call it selfish, but you prefer to call it self-preservation.

To be fair, it’s not like you were going to leave them unanswered forever. You just needed space to collect your thoughts and make sense of your confusing emotions first, lest you begin the conversation prematurely and drag Namjoon down into the dizzying depths of your current state. As it is right now, your thoughts are like nodes floating in a decontextualized void, the web still unformed because you haven’t had the time to grapple with everything yet.

But here he is, inspecting the cross-section of each bagel Soo-eun pulls out of the bag, trying to identify which is which. Yeri’s at his side, gushing about how great the bagels from this place are. The three of them are crowded around the paper bag that sits on the wooden bench, the paint peeling from the way it’s been bleached by the sun in the museum’s outdoor area. Here he is at your workplace. With your friends. You can’t ignore him now, not without rousing your friends’ suspicion.

But what you can ignore is the issue.

It’s not the time nor the place to talk about this anyway. The atmosphere is warm and light, carrying traces of last night’s celebratory mood. The lunch treat is Namjoon’s way of appreciating the surprise you guys organized for him last night. And there’s a bagel stuffed full of salty sweet ham and sticky melty cheese waiting for you to sink your teeth into. Really not the time for serious conversations at all.

So when Namjoon’s eyes search yours, all wide and probing, as you step in to grab your share, you simply smile and thank him, before slinking away to join Soo-eun on the next bench. Not too far - barely five steps away - but far enough that it gives you space to breathe. Even if Namjoon notices your attempts at escaping, he doesn’t have time to call you out on it. Not when you slyly shoot Yeri a wink. Seamlessly, she catches the cue and sits herself down on the bench, tugging at his arm. For once, you welcome Yeri flirting with Namjoon.

“Let’s eat! I’m starving,” she says.

You don’t miss the way Namjoon’s gaze flickers between you and Yeri, but you ignore it and take a generous bite of the bagel in your hands.

“Mm, so good,” you say, and turn to Soo-eun. “Don’t you miss the days before this place got really popular?”

“No, because you and Yeri insisted on going there every day. I can only ingest so many bagels a week.”

“____ hasn’t changed one bit.” Namjoon chuckles. “This time in middle school, she ate tater tots every single day for three weeks straight. She had to be banned for a week.”

“Are you weaponizing my middle school past against me?” you ask amidst your friends’ laughter. “Too bad. I don’t regret it for a second. Tater tots are too delicious to regret.”

Lunch falls back into the easy rhythm of lighthearted jibes, the kitchen debacle receding for now.

Procrastination is a real bitch of a habit to kick. As soon as one reason to put it off expires, your brain churns out another two in its place like a modern-day Hydra.

As for Namjoon? Well, you’re not surprised when he makes no moves to initiate the difficult conversation. After all, you’re adopting his bad habit.

Eventually it gets to the point where you might as well not talk about it at all. Everything’s going fine so far without it. Or as fine as it can be with this beast looming in the backdrop.

You know you need to just get this damn conversation over with. But you can’t. Not till you figure out what exactly is going on with your emotions. Without it, there’s no way you can cauterize the wounds and invalidate your excuses for what they are -- excuses.

It’s not that you haven’t tried. But it’s presenting itself as a real Herculean effort. Mulling it over has you tossing and turning in bed, only leaving you with a headache and a steadily growing desperation. It’s desperation enough that you leave the comfortable warmth of your bed to sit at your desk, shivering as you pen the familiar words once again.

Dear Namjoon,

The words flow in their usual, unrestricted manner. Before, it had been like a dam breaking, the tight restraint that was normally kept on your emotions finally released and the wave of emotions gushing out till it reached a peaceful equilibrium. But now, your emotions are just a whirlpool and your words you pen mimic its spiralling, chasing your thoughts in endless loops.

You’re not over him. But so what? It’s not like getting together is an option. Not when he hasn’t grown out of one of the major things that caused the end of your previous relationship. And not when you haven’t even talked that out, if you ever will.

So what can you do now? Kicking him out of your life will mean having to deal with the loss that his absence will bring again. Going back to pretending the other doesn’t exist will mean dancing around each other again every time you bump into each other in this too small city. And with the way your social circles are intertwined now, that would mean a bunch of explaining to do.

But having him close yet holding him at arm’s length? Walking the narrow margin that is being friends with your ex? A misstep in either direction would be torturous but inevitable - too close and it’s alarming, but too far and it’s a painful reminder that he’s not yours.

Far from the illuminating effect you were hoping it would have, your letter to Namjoon only leaves you deeper in confusion. You throw your pen down. Giving up, you fold the paper up. Sealing the letter in an envelope doesn’t bring the same sense of relief it did before. The Hydra remains unslain.

And so the problem gets shoved away - the same treatment the letter gets as it’s roughly tossed into the desk drawer - into the same corner of the recesses of your mind that your breakup resides in.

You know that Namjoon’s confused. Heck, you are too. It’s a strange dance the two of you are involved in, caught between the compulsion to continue yet knowing the risks it bears. Neither of you are bold enough to take the lead. And so this strange stasis drags on as it has for weeks now.

It’s as if the kiss unearthed something in him. Actually no, it’s unearthed something in both of you. And the tension - the fucking tension - is unreal. The tells are so obvious that you wonder how neither Yeri nor Soo-eun have said anything about it yet. There’s certainly no subtlety in the way his eyes linger on your lips in the middle of conversations that you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it.

And when it’s just the two of you? It’s infinitely worse.

It’s hard to blame him. Touch has always been your love language and Namjoon knows it. Physical touch wasn’t just a thing of your previous two-year relationship. It was a thing of your decades of friendship too, the little touches so casual and almost subconscious. Rekindling your friendship without them had taken intentional effort.

You’re not sure who started it. Maybe both of you just fell back into it, the casual little touches slipping their way back in. But what’s not casual at all is the way your heartbeat goes erratic at the most simple of gestures. The way he blithely sweeps the crumbs from your lunch off your lap. The slightly too long side-hug he holds you in, the warmth of his arm around you permeating through the layers you wear and has you simultaneously freezing up while also turning your insides to goo. But it isn’t overtly romantic either.

At least, that’s the excuse you give yourself when the comfort of his touch gets too tempting and you end up succumbing to it. The familiarity of it all makes you feel like you’ve finally arrived home. As if you’ve been on this long, arduous journey and you’re finally here. You get to drop the heavy backpack and rest now.

But the voice of rationality in you tells you this wrong wrong wrong. You’ve got to get out of here.

And that’s how you end up here. White-knuckled grip tight on the edges of the sink as you stare yourself dead in the eyes in the bathroom mirror. The music outside thumps away albeit muted through the door to the ladies’. But the way your heart thumps has nothing to do with that.

Even without shifting your gaze, you can tell that your cheeks are slightly reddened and warm. You can feel it tingling. No, you don’t shift your gaze. It stays fixed on the intense stare that your reflection throws back at you like a challenge, the ferocity of it enhanced by the sharp eyeliner you’re wearing tonight, an uncharacteristic look for you.

Heck, this whole night is uncharacteristic.

You could take the easy route and blame it on Yeri. God knows she can be real persuasive - it’s why she’s excellent at her job. So getting you all out to the club on a Friday night to celebrate nothing other than the simple joy that - c’mon guys, we’re all young and alive and free and tell me that’s not worth celebrating and I’ll fucking fistfight you right here and now even with my freshly manicured nails - is no feat for her.

Still, no one really expected your simple reply, tone nonchalant and eyes still glued to your work screen, “Yeah, I could use a night out.”

Soo-eun had remained silent but you could feel her stiffen slightly beside you. Yeri had been surprised too but more elated that she didn’t have to get through your usual ten solid minutes of whining and half-baked attempts at slithering your way out of it.

But back to the present. Your bodycon dress - one of the rare pieces that survived not just your college partying days but also the wardrobe purge that occurred when you had to downsize everything to fit into the tiny apartment that’s quintessential to city-living - expands with your chest as you take a deep breath. Gripping the hem where it sits mid-thigh, you yank it down slightly. It’s been a while since you’ve worn this dress. And while the younger, more risque version of you that was your college self had been enthralled by the daringness of the dress, your current self has to dig deep to muster up that same boldness.

Relenting as you realize that this is the limit to how much you can stretch the length of your dress, you let go and your fingertips unintentionally brush your thigh as it falls back to your side. It elicits a shudder, the sensation of your own fingers too close to the electrifying feeling of someone’s thumb skimming across it. It was electrifying enough that your brain finally powered up again, voice of rationality sending you skedaddling away, out of reach of his touch, and pathetically seeking refuge in the washroom.

You roll your shoulders back and shake your head, dispelling the thoughts. Standing upright, you look yourself in the eye again. You can do this. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to have a good time with your friends. You’re going to have a good time with Namjoon. With a nod of affirmation, you turn and saunter your way back to the club with a confidence that has your chin firmly tipped upwards.

You push the door open and look for your friends. The sight that greets you immediately punctures your confidence and your steady posture falls limp.

It’s hard to miss her silvery dress - the dress you knew she would wear and the dress that your very own was meant to counter. It catches the light and grabs attention. And at this moment, it grabs your attention so you can witness Yeri standing between Namjoon’s manspread thighs as he’s perched on the barstool, her hands all over him.

Whatever puffed up confidence you’d had is knocked out of you with that sucker punch of a sight. You turn away, needing to look anywhere but at them.

And that’s when your line of sight falls on a curly-haired man, oddly familiar, and apparently someone you know since he’s waving to you.

“____, hey!” he yells over the music.

“Dong-In?”

He nods and smiles at you. “It’s been a while.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “I was supposed to get back to you on brunch, wasn’t I?” Damn. You’ve been so wrapped up with Namjoon that you totally forgot about Dong-In. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been really caught up with things.”

“It’s no biggie.” He shrugs boyishly. “The exhibition, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sure, the exhibition. Let’s go with that.

“And nothing to do with…” he directs his gaze - and yours along with it - to none other than Namjoon who’s now drinking with Yeri.

Your gaze snaps back to Dong-In and his cheshire grin.

“Nah,” you feign a laugh. “He’s just a friend.”

“The hand he had on you sure didn’t look like just friends.”

“I said we’re just friends,” you snap, then gasp, taken aback by your own outburst. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I should be the one apologizing. I hit a nerve there, didn’t I. D’you wanna talk about it?” His voice is warm and mellow and oh so inviting. And you very nearly give in.

But you can’t pull him into your problems. It’s not his burden to bear.

“Not really. But thanks, Dong-In.”

“That’s cool.” He nods, and relief fills you. This is what you’ve always liked about Dong-In. He’s chill. “Well since we’re here, wanna get buzzed?”

You laugh. “I won’t say no to that.”

The bar isn’t too far from where you are, and it doesn’t take long before the burn of alcohol is sliding down your throat. Picking up the conversation again, you have to admit, you’d forgotten how easy it is to talk to Dong-In. He’s got that effortless charisma and an easy sense of humor that you can vibe with. Things are simple with him. There’s no line to be tiptoed. Flirting - now that you’re no longer obtuse and you’re finally aware that he is indeed flirting with you - isn’t accompanied by guilt or fear.

And after weeks of this complicated situation with Namjoon, simplicity is what you crave.

“Hey, do you wanna dance?” you ask suddenly. Surprise colors his features for a moment but he laughs it off.

“Is the conversation boring you? You could have just told me to shut up if you wanted me to,” he jokes.

“No!” You laugh. “There’s just a good beat going and-”

“I’m just kidding. I’d love to.” He smiles and grabs your hand.

The two of you weave your way through the mass of gyrating bodies. Lightly buzzed, the fog and the strobe lights blurring everything around you other than your dance partner, you finally find the courage you’ve been searching for this whole time. Dong-In hasn’t been very subtle about checking you out all night, and it gives you that extra boost of confidence that’s finally quelled the antsy thoughts and calmed the fidgety adjustments to your dress’s hemline.

So when his hands find your waist, you step in a little closer and run your hands through your hair, shaking it out and finally letting loose as your hips rock to the pounding beat. Dancing with Dong-In is much like conversing with him- easy and simple fun with just the slightest tinge of excitement. As your hips sway together in languid synchrony, you catch a whiff of the slightly intoxicating combination of his cologne and the undertones of his own natural scent. You give in to the giddying sensation of his hands running lightly over your body and press in closer, eyes fluttering shut, and just feeling. It’s thrilling. It’s risque. It’s-

A solid grip on your wrist yanks you forward and stumbling into a hard chest.

His voice is gruff as he bites out his words, “Get your hands off her.”

“Namjoon?” you gape.

“We’re leaving.” His eyes fix on yours, steely and piercing. A shiver runs down your spine - in all your years of knowing him, you’ve never seen him like this. He tugs on your wrist once more. “Now.”

Dazed by this brand new persona, you don’t even get to say goodbye to Dong-In, just pulled along by the force that is a quietly fuming Namjoon. Everything happens so quickly that it’s all a blur until you’re in the Uber with him, silently clutching onto your purse as an anchor in this sudden whirlwind of events. The anger emanates off of him even in the dimly lit backseat.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, but the shock diminishes the level of conviction in your voice.

He turns to you, the same hardness still in his gaze. “I should be the one asking that.”

“What?!” you snap. In your peripheral vision, you see the Uber driver jump slightly. Lowering your tone, you hiss, “What gives you the right?”

“What gives me the right?” he echoes incredulously, scoffing and turning away from you to face forward instead as he rolls his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

The car slows to a stop and you recognize your apartment building. You scramble to get away from him. But it seems your confrontation is far from over. Namjoon unbuckles his own seatbelt to follow you.

Terse silence sits between you, the aggravated stomping of your feet as you climb the stairs the only thing that fills the sound.

You turn sharply round the corner, stalking off to your apartment door. “You don’t have to escort me y’know, I’m perfectly capable of getting home by myself.”

“Really?” He folds his arms and leans on the wall next to your door. “It’s hard to trust you when you go off getting drunk and throwing yourself at a random stranger in the club.”

“Is that what the problem is?” You finally ram the key in, and the click as it unlocks is as harsh as your tone. “Sorry to break it to you, but I have a life apart from you. He’s no stranger. His name is Dong-In, he’s Yeri’s friend, and he’s a great guy.”

You shove the door open. Your heels get kicked off and left haphazardly at the entryway, shoe cabinet ignored.

“Wow, some great guy he is,” Namjoon slams the door shut and his shoes get discarded off his feet in the same fashion, “drunkenly feeling you up in a club.”

“Fuck!” You turn, wringing your hands in your hair. Your glares rival each other. “You say it as if I was strung along by him. Well I wasn’t. I initiated it.”

His glare flickers for a moment. He stays silent.

“Just admit that you’re jealous,” you whisper. You unsling your purse and dump it on top of the shoe cabinet, never breaking eye contact.

“Fine.” Namjoon’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I am.”

He skulks forward and traps you between him and the cabinet, gaze holding yours. Namjoon’s always towered over you, but at the moment it isn’t his height that makes you feel tiny.

“Watching his hands all over you like this,” Namjoon’s hands slowly skim the back of your thighs and up your sides and you bite back a whimper, “makes me jealous.”

“And watching you respond like this?” He continues as a firm hand presses the small of your back to close the gap between your torsos. “Glued to him like this? It makes me jealous.”

“You don’t own me,” you whisper but it only elicits a sardonic laugh from him.

“You say that, but you know damn well that’s not the truth. Tell me. Are you jealous?”

“What would I-”

“Yeri.” Damn. Straight through the bullshit. With an eyebrow cocked, it’s obvious he knows the answer and he’s not budging, not even an inch.

“Yes,” you admit quietly. “I’m jealous.”

“Silly girl.” He traces the hemline of your dress. “I only want you.”

A soft keening noise spills out of you. “I’m so sick of holding back.” You tug on his dress shirt, and the feel of his plush lips finally, finally meeting yours snips the final frayed cords of self-restraint you possessed.

Namjoon is quick to reciprocate, and you moan as his tongue licks at your bottom lip. Hooking your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, needing nothing else but to have him close after all this time of distance. He hoists you up, and your legs circle his waist to aid him. The world around you sets into motion as he walks you to your bed, and you anchor yourself by pressing kisses to his neck.

With how tiny your apartment is, it takes no time for him to carry you from the entryway to your bedroom. The cool sensation of your unmade sheets envelops you as he lowers you down onto the bed. He barely gets a moment to appreciate the sight of you, hair mussed and lipstick smudged, lounging on the bed and waiting for him. Desperate for his touch and running out of patience, you gesture to the zip on the side of your dress. Hurrying, he pulls the zipper down as you tug your arms out of the thin straps of the garment. You sit up and let the torso of the dress fall to bunch up at your waist, revealing your bare chest to him.

The quiet gasp that escapes him as he beholds you is infinitely flattering. It’s but a momentary pause. He dives forward into action again. An arm looped around your back to support you as your chest arches upwards, he crouches over you to take one perked-up tit into the heat of his mouth, his free hand coming up to toy with the other. His tongue laves over your nipple in a slippery flick. The other gets pinched and rolled, leaving you gasping at the delicious sensations.

“Namjoon,” you moan out breathily, and it only eggs him on. You whimper as he begins sucking on the bud and wetness pools between your thighs. Your fingernails rake down his back, muted through the layer of his dress shirt.

“M-more,” you plead. He releases your breast and moves his mouth upwards, trailing gentle pecks till he kisses along the length of your collarbone.

“Come here,” he commands, his words breathy and hot as they puff against the thin skin of your clavicle. He scoots back to lean against the headboard, and you follow hastily.

You clamber on top of him, knees bent and straddling his lap as he helps you hike the skirt of your dress up. But before you seat yourself atop the prominent bulge in the lightwash denim of his jeans, he holds you still with a firm grasp on your hip.

His thumb trails the lace detail of your panties, the patterns snaking across your hip bone, baby pink like your dress.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbles. His fingers wander to your clothed core, the material slightly sheer from the damp spot of your arousal. He strokes it tenderly with the pad of his finger, so light that it has you quivering as you hover above him.

His fingernail grazes your slit through the wet material and a gasp catches in your throat. You clench around nothing as carnal desire throbs through your core.

“Namjoon, please,” you whine.

Finally, he gives in to you and pulls you down. Your laced core meets his rough denim-clad one. The stiff material of his jeans pokes through the delicate fabric of your underwear, the friction rough as he drags you over his clothed bulge. The burn is delicious. His hands on you set a slow but steady rhythm that you follow easily, canting your hips in time. It’s enrapturing to watch the way you grind on one another, your clit rubbing up on the apex of his bulge in mutual pleasure.

A finger tips your chin up from the sight you were fixated on.

“Eyes on me.”

It’s difficult. Pleasure has your eyes drooping shut. But the intensity of his gaze compellingly holds yours and you manage, even if barely. His expression is stoic, and it’s only the twitch of his dick that betrays how affected he is. You, on the other hand, are completely abandoned to pleasure. Hands scrabbling across his upper back and up until they settle themselves as fists gripping tufts of his hair, teeth clamped on your bottom lip as moans spill out of you at increasing frequency as your pleasure climbs and climbs and climbs until-

Burrowing your face into the side of his neck, you pant as you cross the peak. Hips now stilled, your climax has you throbbing against his hardened member. You cling onto him with your arms around his neck as you free-fall in the subsiding pleasure. Bare chest brushing against the smooth material of his dress shirt, you catch your breath and yield to the moment.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit.” Louder this time. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The regret in his words yank you out of the heady fog of lust. There’s no time to bask in the afterglow. Reality comes crashing down hard and mercilessly.

Suddenly, you feel so small and so exposed. You read his regret as rejection. Your nudity and previous salacious actions make you feel stupid.

Namjoon attempts to extricate your arms from around him, but shame has you clutching to him tighter, hiding your face in his neck. You can still feel him under you, but it’s now an uncomfortable reminder of the act you just committed.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle now, pleading, “look at me? Please?”

You refuse. It’s impossible to look him in the eye right now.

“Fuck.” Even whispered, the panic laced in his tone is blatant. Gently, he maneuvers both of you to turn over. Feeling the mattress underneath you as you’re laid on your back, you release your hold on him and swiftly turn and tug your blanket up to hide away from him.

“____.” He tries. You grip the sheets even tighter as you feel him trying to pull it away from your face. “Please.”

Embarrassment. Guilt. Mortification. They overtake you and you curl in on yourself. You just want to disappear.

“____,” he tries again, hand stroking your head. But you don’t allow yourself to succumb to its comfort. “Talk to me. Please.”

Oh, now he wants to talk.

Why couldn’t you have just talked things out earlier? Why only now when things have fallen apart? Why now when you’ve just done something so stupid and so reckless?

Why now when it’s too late? What can talking possibly do to fix this now?

His pleas are met with silence.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says resignedly.

More silence. He sighs. You feel the mattress shift as he gets up. From where you’re still hiding in the stuffy darkness underneath your blanket, you hear his footsteps return and the muted thud of the glass getting placed on your bedside table.

The silence returns, but you can feel his presence. You imagine he’s staring at your blanket lump on the bed.

Finally, the heavy quietness is broken with a deep breath, and you hear him say softly, “Get a good night’s rest, okay? Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

The light clicks off and you’re plunged into lonely pitch-black darkness. In the distance, you hear the heavy opening and closing of your front door as Namjoon leaves.

Unearthing yourself to the coolness of the night, your dress an uncomfortable lump around your waist, your breasts slightly sore from his previous ministrations, you stare up at the ceiling as hot tears leak out.

It’s well into the afternoon by the time you drag yourself out of bed the next day. Sleep came intermittently and was far from restful, but waking up meant facing the nightmarish reality of what had transpired. So you hid under the covers for as long as you could. But you know you can’t stay there forever.

The buzzing notifications of your phone had woken you up on more than one occasion in the night. But you ignore it and leave your phone next to the glass of water - still untouched - in favor of washing up. It’s more pressing anyway, you surmise. You can feel your make-up, now icky and caked on your face. It’s awful. Your skin is probably revolting against you now and you don’t even want to think about the mess it probably left on your pillowcase. But last night, you were simply paralyzed by the weight of what you’d done, crying till sleep finally came for you.

You take your time going through an extensive skincare routine, even busting out the clay mask you had impulsively bought together with Yeri when it was on discount. You’re doing it because your skin needs the pampering and definitely not because you’re procrastinating getting to your phone.

But there’s only so many steps you can do with the limited skincare products in your apartment. And you know your friends are probably worried about your abrupt disappearance last night. Getting to those messages first, you quickly assure Soo-eun and Yeri that you’re safe at home. Looking at the remaining notifications, you sigh.

Missed calls Namjoon (8)

7 unread messages from 2 chats Namjoon: are you still sleeping? Namjoon: hey, you still asleep? Namjoon: text me when you’re up please? Namjoon: are you awake?

Dong-In: hey! Dong-In: not sure what exactly happened at the end there haha, but it was rly great seeing u again. Dong-In: i’m still waiting on that brunch reschedule, by the way.

Memories from last night come back to you. Dong-In runs his hands through his curls, an easy grin on his face as he leans in to listen to you over the loud music of the club. Things are simple with Dong-In. And, standing on the precipice of a mental spiral whenever you think of Namjoon, the same craving for simplicity from last night returns.

[2:06pm] ____: well it’s a little late for brunch right now

[2:06pm] ____: but you still up to grab a bite?

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