#you could also say the author skips these things to not make it boring or idkk maybe the city itself funds these kids | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lisired · 3 months ago

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DREAM BOYS: slut me out

pairing: shy!jisung x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, unprotected sex (before you tap it make sure you wrap it), oral (m) receiving, switch!jisung, switch!reader (at least i think so… i wanna say there’s not really strong dom/sub dynamics here)

summary: The Dream Boys are notorious for banging everything on campus with a pulse and breaking hearts, but every time you see Jisung, you can’t help but think he’s nothing like them; he can barely even look into your eyes.

word count: 5.3k

a/n: i wrote this on a whim lol. as always, feedback is appreciated!

If I was a bad bitch,

I’d wanna fuck me too

There was something about Park Jisung that confused you to no end.

For one, you wondered how a boy could be so awkward. You weren’t even this bad at your peak of social ineptitude, but he somehow seemed to always be shy and blushing.

The most baffling thing about him, however, wasn’t just his timid personality and lack of confidence around the opposite sex. It was his ability to get along so well with people who were the complete opposite of him.

Everybody at your school knew him and his friends collectively as the Dream Boys and they were notorious on campus for allegedly fucking every girl they set their sights on. You had no way of knowing how true that was, but based on nothing but vibes alone, most of them you didn’t doubt one bit.

Mark, the sweet boy who posted bible quotes on his story every morning. Jeno, the intelligent one who obviously didn’t buy his way into college. Jaemin, the campus heartthrob everyone wanted to bring home to Mama. And Haechan, the party boy who was never not hungover.

But Jisung was something different entirely. You had no idea why he hung out with them at all. Your interactions with him had been limited thus far, but he stammered out every sentence he spoke and could hardly maintain eye contact.

There was no way in hell he was a whore.

The school library had unfortunately become your second home over the past few weeks and you were lounging at a table with your friends when Ryujin whispered, “Looks like the Dream Boys are throwing another Halloween party this year. I hope there’s no more cum punch rumors. I almost threw up because of that shit.”

Yuna winced. Those rumors had positively ruined the drinking last year for everybody. “Dream Boys? More like fuckboys.”

You snickered. You didn’t have a clue where the name came from, but you couldn’t resist quipping, “And what did you think they dreamed about?”

“Pussy,” she answered without hesitation.

You laughed again. The boys were handsome, you would give them that, but they also gave the impression that they were carrying sexually transmitted infections yet to be unearthed by health authorities.

Ryujin seemed like she was reading from her phone, probably gathering more information about the aforementioned party, and soon enough she chirped, “No worries, guys. Haechan just posted that there will not be any cum punch, but everyone should watch their drink.”

“I won’t be attending,” you replied with total disinterest. “Have fun potentially drinking some random dude’s kids.”

Ryujin groaned, but she had been expecting that response. It was no secret you had something against those boys because of their fuckboy reputation and while she didn’t blame you for that, she didn’t see it as an excuse to skip out on harmless fun. “You’re so boring.”

You shrugged, indifferent. “If boring means spending my free time watching Shemar Moore chase bad guys in two different universes, both of which he’s incredibly sexy in, instead of risking my tongue falling off, then I’ll be that.”

“You both are disgusting,” Yuna said in disapproval. “You want to fuck someone’s bald dad and Ryujin wants to fuck Haechan.”

Ryujin gawked. “That’s a lie!”

Yuna wasn’t convinced. “Admit it. The only reason you want to go to this party after last year’s fiasco is because you know Haechan will be there and you want to suck his dick until the foreskin dries up like a raisin.”

You made a face. The graphic description was putting unholy pictures in your mind that you would rather not see. “Yeah, I’m gonna go. You girls got that,” you told them as you rose from the table, tossing your bag over your shoulder. “I will see you guys when I emerge from my Netflix binging.”

Meanwhile, Jisung was by himself in the break room of the local cafe he worked at trying desperately to think of something that would undo the boner in his pants before his co-workers saw him and teased him to hell and back. It wasn’t even because of a pretty customer this time. He was just daydreaming.

Was it a smart thing to do while he was at work? No, maybe not. But he couldn’t help it. His mind had been filled with perverted thoughts lately. It was the second week of October and Jisung was attempting to get all of the sexual frustration out of his system before the start of No Nut November.

He had been the first one to lose last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. This year, he needed a turnaround.

When his boner wouldn’t go down as soon as he’d hoped, Jisung ultimately decided to go wank it in the bathroom as quietly as possible and got back to work. And to his luck, you were standing right there at the counter waiting for someone to take your order.

Jisung swallowed when he saw you. He had always found you gorgeous and seeing you after orgasming made his brain short-circuit. With a little plan to increase his body count another digit, he went up to the counter and put on his shyest performance. “Hello. What can I get for you today?”

Your brows furrowed. He didn’t sound as bashful as he looked. That said, he sounded like he was donning his customer service voice, and everybody knew that the person you were at work didn’t reflect your true self. “Hi, can I get the Jasmine green tea, please?”

Jisung kept his eyes trained to the screen the entire time, even though he wanted nothing more than to look at you. “Sure thing. Would you like any add-ons?”

“Tapioca pearls. Extra, please.”

God, the way you kept saying, “Please,” was driving him crazy. He knew you were simply being polite, which was more than he could say about some customers he got, but it was making him picture other situations where he could have you begging for him.

“Will that be everything?” Jisung asked as if his thoughts hadn’t wandered somewhere dangerous.

You nodded your head, taking out your card. “That’s it.”

While you were temporarily distracted by having to pay, Jisung took the opportunity to get a better look at you. His eyes flitted to your lips that were coated in a clear gloss which made them look plumper. It was all he could do not to think about how perfect they would look wrapped around his cock.

“I heard you and your friends are throwing a party tonight,” you mentioned, waiting for your order to be processed. Not that you gave a damn. You just wanted something to talk about.

Jisung was pleased you didn’t seem to notice his less than clean thoughts, but when you mentioned the party, he stifled a groan. “Yeah, I can’t go. I have a closing shift.”

“Damn, that must suck,” you replied, watching the hint of annoyance spread across his face. “When do you guys close, by the way? I was thinking about getting some work done.”

“We close at nine,” Jisung told you matter-of-factly. “Don’t you usually work in the library?”

You lifted a brow, smiling softly. “Are you keeping tabs?”

Jisung glanced away. Make no mistake, he wasn’t stalking you or anything, but he did happen to see you in the library whenever he popped inside. You were there more often than not. “I see you around every now and then.”

You hummed. “To answer your question, I do usually work in the library, but my friends are being insufferable today and I knew I wasn’t gonna get any work done around them, so I hopped ship.”

Jisung nodded his head in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. My friends are pretty annoying at times too.”

You had an obvious disdain for boys in his group, but for some reason, you were always so nice to him. It was almost as if you had some kind of soft spot. Jisung wondered if he could manipulate that kindness. He figured you must have assumed he wasn’t as bad as the men he surrounded himself with, which couldn’t have been more wrong, but you didn’t need to know that.

There was no opportunity for you to give him a response, because his co-worker placed your drink in front of you, saying, “Here you go, one Jasmine green tea, extra tapioca pearls.”

You thanked them and glanced back at Jisung, telling him, “I’m gonna go find a seat,” and walked away.

Jisung was disappointed, but it was better than you leaving. And in truth, it wasn’t so bad, because it gave him a little more time to think of a way of getting you to go home with him. He didn’t want to lose for the fourth year in a row since he started college, and you were a beautiful girl that thought highly of him for whatever reason.

You were still lingering in the cafe a few hours later and it was that time of night where Jisung had to start excessively wiping counters to appear busy, because he didn’t expect many more customers.

But you were the only customer in sight and he was the only employee at this hour, so he approached your table and inhaled a deep breath. “Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?”

You glanced up at him, wanting to giggle at how nervous he seemed for whatever reason, but resisting. “Sure.”

Jisung started fidgeting with the rings on his long fingers, which drew your attention to his hands, specifically how big they were. “Can I sit down?”

You wordlessly nodded over at the seat in front of you.

With one more small glance in the direction of the door, which didn’t appear to be welcoming more customers any time soon, Jisung slid into the booth. You both sat there in silence until he finally willed himself to speak. “So, I was wondering… can I ask you a favor?”

You were tempted to respond with, I wasn’t aware I owed you any. But you were very curious to know where this was going, so you decided to let him get straight to the point. “Depends. What’s the favor?”

“Promise not to tell anyone?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll promise,” you replied, nodding. “As long as you’re not about to ask me to hide a body.”

That threw Jisung off guard and he quickly shook his head. “What? No, of course not. Look, uh, I need a favor from you, but it’s something kinda…”

Pushing down the top of your laptop, you held your face in your hands and gave Jisung your undivided attention. You were beginning to suspect that it was a favor of a sexual nature.

When you looked at him like that, Jisung glanced away. “It’s kinda embarrassing to say, but I was wondering… if I could come to your house.”

Now that was definitely a surprise. “My house?”

Jisung nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah, that’s what I was wondering. I’m sorry, I know it’s weird. I just…”

Your brows furrowed. Jisung had been to your apartment before. Once. Twice, if you counted him having to come back because he forgot his notebook. Either way, you weren’t necessarily friends and it only happened because of an assignment, the fact that the library had been completely packed, and your apartment was nearby.

“Why?”

“Well… I wanted to know if you could help me with something.”

“You’re so vague,” you teased. “What do you need?”

Jisung exhaled a breath and decided he was just going to come out and say what he meant. “Listen, this is gonna be kinda weird, and if you say no I completely understand and will leave you alone for the rest of my life. But me and my friends are preparing for No Nut November and…”

“And you want to get all of the horny juice out of your system so you don’t nut on the first day like a loser,” you finished for him. It wasn’t that hard to guess, all things considered. “You know it doesn’t work like that, right?”

“It does,” he insisted. He said nothing else, waiting for you to either agree to blessing his cock tonight or let him suffer, and hoping you chose the former.

You had already made your mind up, but you pretended to be uncertain, shrugging your shoulders. “Why me?”

Much to your surprise, Jisung didn’t skip a beat. “You’re the only girl I didn’t think would judge me.”

And that was exactly how he won you over, because you hurriedly began packing up your things to go home and get a shower before Jisung could get there. Maybe shave too. You didn’t go bald, but a little trim had never hurt anybody.

Almost the very second his shift ended, Jisung was in his car growing increasingly more frustrated at every encountered red light as he drove as fast as he possibly could without going over the speed limit.

When he rang the doorbell, you almost immediately answered the door, wearing nothing but a shirt that looked far too big for someone of your stature. “What took you so long?” you asked, widening the door so he could enter.

“Lots of traffic tonight,” Jisung replied, waltzing inside your house as if his heart wasn’t thumping in his chest at the idea of getting fucked.

You closed the door and led him to the bedroom. The soft, feminine smell of your body wash clung to you and the scent was already driving him crazy with lust.

Jisung glanced around your bedroom, happy to be back here again. The last time he was inside your bedroom, he’d seen your panties spilling out of their drawer and it had taken everything in him to focus on the assignment at hand.

His eyes fell to your delicious legs which were smooth and shiny. No doubt you had just gotten out of the shower. You got ready for him, which had to count for something. You had consented to fucking him, after all, so your interest in him couldn’t have been any more blatant.

You plopped on your bed, noticing the way he was drinking in the sight of you. “Don’t just stand there,” you said, stifling a giggle.

Jisung swallowed the unignorable lump in his throat. “What do you want me to do?”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Come here.”

He took tentative steps towards your bed. It was adorably pink and fluffy, and he almost felt bad for knowing it was going to be ruined by the time he returned home. Then, he started thinking about what else was pink, and from that point on his mind began reeling with lewd thoughts.

You had to pull Jisung onto the bed, shoving him onto his back. The gasp he made was cut off by your lips smashing against his as you kissed him like your life depended on it, gently tugging on his black hair. You didn’t want to hurt him, but at the same time, that was exactly what you wanted.

It pleasantly surprised you that Jisung was a decent kisser. You could tell he had some kind of experience, which was fair since he was a grown man with very obvious needs, and your panties were pooling with arousal when his hands drifted to your waist as you straddled him, pulling you flush against his rapidly hardening cock.

As if he wasn’t already struggling to breathe enough, you broke the kiss and began trailing your lips faintly over his jaw. Then his neck. Then his collarbone. He figured you would go down again to his chest, but you went back to his throat and started sucking and nibbling at the flesh.

“Fuck,” Jisung panted, already worked up and you had barely done anything together so far. He was sure you could feel how hard he was, given that he was pressed right against you, but you went about kissing him as if you had no clue.

His reactions did make you giggle smugly though, quite proud of yourself. The marks you were leaving at the base of his neck were going to be there for days. Maybe weeks. The room felt hotter now that you were making such a mess of him. He brought his hands up from your perfect waist to your under your shirt, his fingers ghosting over your breasts.

It was your turn to gasp out. The soft sounds you made did wonders to turn him on. He cupped your chest in his big palms and let his thumb work over the stiffened nipple. All the while, you were beginning to grind against his bulge as your lips wandered here and there, drawing a guttural groan from Jisung’s throat.

“Oh my god,” he said, stilling your hips with his strong hands. Something your body liked more than you cared to admit.

You met his eyes. They were filled with lust and desire and impatience. “Are you okay?”

Jisung nodded his head, glancing at your body. He was hoping you would get out of that shirt sooner than later. He wanted to see you. “It’s just…,” he trailed, his voice faint. “I’ve never done this before.”

You didn’t gawk. You didn’t laugh. There was no amusement nor was there any surprise. “That’s okay. We can take things slow, if you want.”

“I’d rather not. I like things fast,” Jisung insisted.

You laughed. “Well, that can be arranged too. Have you ever had a blowjob?”

The thought of you sucking his cock alone nearly made a cold shudder wreck through Jisung’s body. “Once,” he said, trying to keep his composure. “It was a long time ago.”

“Now, we can’t have that,” you replied, crawling off of him to bring your attention to the very prominent bulge in his pants. You could tell he was big and that thought had you salivating.

Jisung undid his pants hurriedly and tossed them to the ground like they meant nothing, giving you plenty enough time to ruffle through your drawer for something to tie your hair back with.

With your hair out of the way, you patiently sat on your knees as he got just naked enough that you would be able to suck him off. Maybe deep down you had always wanted to. Jisung was exactly the type of guy you were into - the ones that looked away when a pretty girl complimented them and had a beautiful, shy smile.

It didn’t surprise you that his cock was just as veiny as his hands were, but it did make your mouth run dry.

“Sweet Jesus,” you mumbled underneath your breath, knowing that you were in for a treat.

Jisung resisted a smirk. He knew he had a brag-worthy cock that was enough to make any woman lose her everlasting mind, whether she was going down on him or he was going inside her. You were no exception. Matter of fact, all it took was one look before you got a hold of his cock and spat on his pretty tip.

He swore quietly, watching you attentively. There wasn’t even a need to get him hard because he had already stiffened from the way you were kissing him and grinding against his dick, so you got straight to work.

You skipped the slow parts - the teasing bits with your tongue at the tip and base of his cock, and immediately went to the action. Jisung said he liked things fast and so that was exactly what you would give him. And he was going to take it like he’d asked.

“Shit. Shit. Fuck,” he cursed, clutching the sheets. You weren’t wasting any time and he almost couldn’t believe it.

You hadn’t even waited before taking as much of him into your mouth as you could and that made Jisung’s head spin like he was about to explode. And in a way, that wasn’t necessarily untrue. He already knew this was going to be one of his shorter experiences, but definitely one of his better orgasms.

Jisung groaned loudly. It was a shock, because he was one of the quietest boys you’d ever met, so it wasn’t too hard for you to guess that he was currently enjoying himself. The sound of his euphoric noises were making you horny and you could feel your panties getting even wetter.

You wanted to fuck him so bad. It was killing you right now. He was just so perfect; so handsome and cute and easy to provoke. You wanted to draw the most sexy, uncontrollable reactions from him and watch what it did to his little male brain.

Jisung could tell how much you wanted him and it only aroused him more. You were so fucking eager. You were going to town, sucking him off like you were in love with him, like you were worshiping him, and it got him off to an inexplicable extent. He couldn’t even begin to describe how your mouth felt sealed around him like you wanted to suck him completely dry.

You ran your hands up his stomach, up his thighs. He was sensitive in more places than one, your touches making his breath hitch in his throat.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with all the stunts you were pulling.

Damn, already, you thought to yourself, wanting to chuckle. Not that you were actually even remotely surprised. You knew what you were doing; you were ruining him and taking a little piece of him to serve as a reminder of your victory.

You didn’t slow down. If anything, you went even faster, your head bobbing up and down his shaft like you wanted to eat him for every meal of every goddamn day. Jisung winced his eyes clothed and accepted his fate, knowing he was merely seconds away from the heat in his stomach unfurling.

With the last piece of his self-control officially waning now that you were sucking his dick like you had something to prove, Jisung involuntarily began thrusting into your mouth, messily fucking your throat with every intention of getting himself off. You let him. At the moment, you were just pleased you’d driven him mad.

And that you knew for sure, because the buildup of ecstasy at short last began to overflow and Jisung couldn’t take it anymore. He gave one final long, deep moan as he released down your throat and clasped your sheets for purchase, convulsing with the effort.

Jisung was shaking. When his eyes finally opened, all he saw was you swallowing his load even though he hadn’t asked you to, and it made him burn from the inside out.

You grinned when he withdrew from your mouth and glanced up to meet his eyes, watching him struggle to find words. “You good?” you asked, shifting on your knees.

Jisung nodded, but that word didn’t even begin to capture the feeling he had inside right now. That was a revolutionary nut. “I… yeah. I’m good.”

Getting up from your knees, you ignored the faint ache in them and asked, “Do you wanna fuck now?”

“God, yes,” Jisung replied in a heartbeat, stroking himself back rigid. It would happen in no time.

When he was hard, he gathered you in his arms and tossed you unceremoniously onto the bed, a gasp escaping your mouth as your back met the mattress. Jisung ordered you to raise your hips, which you did on command, and he slipped your panties from underneath you to throw them wherever his pants were. Still unsatisfied, he tugged at your shirt too until you were completely naked.

The sight of you made him hold his breath. Your smooth skin and supple breasts and kissable tummy. He slipped a hand between your legs, wondering if he should return the favor before he fucked you, but he was surprised by how wet you had gotten from giving him pleasure.

“You really are something else,” he mumbled, running his arousal-slicked fingers over his throbbing dick.

You laughed, debating what to do with your legs, and ultimately deciding on draping them over his broad shoulders. Jisung groaned, having imagined one too many times how your cunt would feel as he pushed in and out of it silkily, and concluding that there was no point in drawing things out, he slipped between your slick folds.

He growled in pleasure immediately, because both the way your pussy welcomed him in with ease and the way it invitingly throbbed around him was making him unravel. It was completely insane. The power you had over him right now was lethal and he couldn’t believe how wet and snug you were just for him.

“Oh, god,” you moaned out, because suddenly your legs on him weren’t enough and you detangled them from his shoulders to wrap around his slim waist instead so that it would be easier to lock your arms around him as well.

It took a long moment for Jisung to will himself to open his eyes, because they had been winced closed since the moment he felt you tightening around him. He looked you in the eyes. “Is this okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded your head. His cock was long and thick and veiny and everything in between. You were in a world between heaven and earth, elevating to the gods and struggling to stay grounded. “It’s perfect, baby. Fuck me just like that.”

Jisung felt dizzy. He knew he had been right in choosing you. It wasn’t every girl that could leave him on the cusp of insanity with both her throat and her pussy, and he was still reeling from the head you’d given him. His whole body was scalding with lust and passion as he reaped pleasure from your body with every labored thrust.

You couldn’t get enough how he felt stroking against your walls and it showed in the way you were kneading and gushing around his cock. The tension in the air was exhilarating, throttling. You grappled his forearms to keep him close, not wanting to be separated when he was fucking you this good.

“Can you say my name?” Jisung asked, his voice thick with desire.

“Jisung,” you called out softly, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts in a perfect sync. You simply couldn’t help yourself. This would be your undoing.

Jisung swore underneath his breath, unable to control the way his stammering hips reacted to the hint of breathlessness in your voice, and smoothed his palms over your beautiful, bare body. He ran his fingers over your cheek, your neck, your chest and your thighs.

He knew he needed to make you come if he cared about not absolutely humiliating himself, because he was going to unravel in a matter of minutes. With that thought, he stuck his hand between your legs and thumbed your clit, asking, “How does that feel?”

You cried out his name again, shuddering with sensitivity. Your heart was hammering in your chest and pounding in your ears and the throbbing between your legs was brutal. If he was trying to finish you, it was working. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer.

Jisung took that as a sign that you liked it and he continued rubbing the sensitive nub, all the while giving you those long, deep strokes you seemed to be enjoying. You couldn’t breathe through the ecstasy. The way he was stretching you out and bringing you high made you feel as if you could choke.

You trembled beneath him, torn between taking his cock and arching away from the pleasure. “Oh my god. Fuck. I’m gonna come,” you said, feeling the sweat clinging to your skin. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was lying about being a virgin.

That drew a grunt out of Jisung in anticipation. He didn’t stop touching your clit, didn’t stop stroking your sweet spot. “You gonna come for me?”

You nodded your head vigorously. The rhythm of his thrusts and the relentlessness of his hand between your legs was going to make you see stars. Of that you were certain. Your mouth hung open, gasping for breath, struggling to breathe in the stuffy air.

Then it finally rammed into you like a freight train and you let out a mangled cry of Jisung’s name as you reached your peak. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. You begged for mercy, overcome. Undone. Your face tensed and you throbbed around his cock over and over, your entire body unstill.

When you tried to squirm away from it, Jisung held you securely in his arms so that you had no option but to take the pleasure he was giving you, and everything about it made you feel faint.

He only released you when you went slack against the sheets, the most empty look in your stare as if your soul had been completely snatched from your body, and he couldn’t but moan. God fucking damn.

Jisung kept fucking you through your orgasm, knowing that his was right around the corner, especially with how you had clamped around him like a noose as you came and the soft moans you were making as he tried to get himself off. It was classic mutually assured destruction.

You were hyper aware of the wet sound of his hips smacking into yours echoing out on the walls, even wetter now that you had orgasmed on his cock. Knowing the effect he had on you somehow turned you on. You were still trying to collect yourself after having one hell of an orgasm, throwing your arms around his body again.

“Mm. Jisung, come. I want you to come,” you purred, rubbing your hands down his back.

Jisung was losing his mind. He knew he was a goner the second you said that and thus he begrudgingly withdrew from your soaked pussy, flipped you onto your stomach, and started to stroke himself the rest of the way with his fist.

In a matter of seconds, he was groaning so close to and simultaneously too far from your ear, landing a stripe of his cum on your ass as he winced his eyes closed for the nth time. You looked behind you in time to see his face tensing and his lips parted in a perfect deep moan that had you clenching around nothing.

Jisung dropped beside you like a deadweight and tried to gather his breath. His mind was staggering from the orgasm and the tight feel of your cunt around his cock and he wasn’t going to be capable of thinking straight for the next hour or so.

When you at last willed yourself to move, you brushed the hair out of his face and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jisung replied, nodding. “Are you?”

“I’m good,” you told him, grinning from ear to ear. You were hoping he wouldn’t leave without your number. The sex was a little too good not to happen again.

Jisung bobbed his head again. He slowly sat up, knowing his head would spin if he got up too fast, and said, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You hummed in response, watching his back as he grabbed his pants and stepped out of the room.

When he was in the bathroom, Jisung whipped out his phone from the pocket of his pants and texted his group chat.

jisung: just lost my virginity for the 28th time not that i’m counting

mark: lmfaooo how long are these girls gon fall for that shit

jeno: for real, he lies more than jaemin

jaemin: ntm on me. but i’m impressed he’s kept it up for this long

haechan: come on. all he has to do is stutter and they’re like aweeee jisungie wungie is your cock heavy? here let me hold that for you

Jisung rolled his eyes and put his phone away. All he knew was the sex was amazing and he was coming back for seconds; you would be the perfect place to dump his cum before the start of November.

And he wasn’t losing.

#park jisung smut #jisung smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios #park jisung

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hwajin · 6 months ago

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!# — scented candles | bcn

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: chan x inexperienced!fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

warnings: oral (f receiving)

author's note: this is both a request and part of the inexperienced series ( @whatudowhennooneseesyou )!! hope you enjoy <3

Distant sounds of your long-nailed fingers tapping against the keyboard of your laptop sounded through Chan's small dorm room, your knuckles aching from the time you've spent behind the device. It smelt of honeyed vanilla, thanks to the scented candle you had gifted him to your one month anniversary — you fondly remember that Chan hadn't had a present for you back then because he'd never celebrated monthly anniversaries with pervious girlfriends, and how enamoured he had been by your small present. He didn't dare light the candle by himself — it only ever burnt when you visited him, when it was the two of you in his college dorm room, not him in lonesome.

It was long past sunset, the only light in the room the soft glow of the candle, the static hue of your laptop and the endless reds and blues and neons of the city outside the small window. You always preferred Chan's room to your own — his view was far prettier, overlooking the entire city you had both moved to for your studies, which was the reason you had met altogether. A city so small, so mundane. Yet it held your entire fate.

You weren't much noticing the sound of your typing, or the faint chords of a long repeating playlist somewhere in the back — you also weren't much noticing Chan shifting in bed next to you tirelessly, from left to right and back. He knew not to distract you in his studies — it was the very thing he had noticed first about you after all, the very first thing he fell in love with.

You had sat in the library, brows furrowed, thick glasses sitting low on your nose. He had almost tripped over his feet, had been clumsy right in front of the table you had sat at. When you had looked up at him, shifting up your glasses with a gentle movement of the finger, and had asked if he was fine, he had been done for. He had nodded, had shamelessly asked for your number. Chan had giggled over your confused face — as though asking for your contact was something entirely unfathomable. You had been confused, but had handed him your phone so he could save in his contact; ever since then you hadn't left each others' side.

Chan knew not to distract you in your studies, but you had sat behind your laptop ever since the sun had sat high on the sky — he ought to make you take a break by now, surely. Not only because he was bored out of his senses in the bed behind it, and not because staring at you from the side became tortureous. It had been hours, and he could only eye your barely covered body so much. It was hot, and he didn't blame you for your decision in clothing — a flimsy tank top, and old shorts you surely didn't choose purposefully, not to drive him crazy, simply to flee the hot weather. But every fibre of his body was fixated on you — on the way your thighs spilled over in the short pants, the way the plush flesh rested on the old dorm room chair. He was fixated on the way your chest curved in the tight top, the way the soft flesh of your arms moved with every of your move, whenever you typed yet another sentence into your Word document. The way your breasts moved whenever you did — the lack of a bra causing them to float like water, your nipples perking up beneath the fabric, subtle and everything but intentional, was all Chan needed to have his insides heat up, for a soft sheen of sweat to cover his palms and the skin of his forehead.

And he couldn't do anything but stare. He couldn't say he put in the same effort into his education as you did — he was hard-working and passionate, but in different aspects than you. He never much stayed in class longer than he needed to, didn't know any professor by name. There were days he'd skip classes altogether; though you influenced him far more than he did you, and guilt made him drag himself to college more times than not.

He could only stare, and let you work, because he knew like no one else the urge to finish assignments when it was long past either of your bed times. He could only stare — but he could also do something against the growing, urging fire in his chest. The one igniting with every further second he looked at you, kept his eyes on your figure. He ought to make you take a break, because it was far too late to be working, and because you would have long dragged him off the table as well, if he was the one behind it. He ought to; surely, for your wellbeing. Not because of the tightening in his chest, not because of the arousal coursing his body the further your glasses slid down your nose — not at all, he would never be so selfish.

Chan stood from the bed, stretching in the process — his legs were almost numb, having lay next to you for seeming hours on end, without much occupation. You had proposed throwing on a movie just so it would run, had asked if you should study in your own dorm room altogether, so Chan could do whatever he pleased to do. Though the man had shook his head; he had been, much to your bashful surprise, perfectly happy simply watching you study. He had laughed when you had grown shy over it, but had accepted it nonetheless.

Yet boredom had struck the man eventually; it was less boredom than it was infatuation, sudden and primal, though the outcome was all the same — he stood behind where you were sitting, peering over your shoulder to read the essay you were writing. Your fingers were working fast, your hair smelt of vanilla and honey, and Chan could feel the warmth your body emitted; he was a goner.

You hadn't paid him any notice, so when his hands draped softly over your shoulders you jumped, making the man scoff out in amusement.

"You definitely need a break if you didn't even notice me standing behind you, babe.", he chuckled, voice soft and undisturbing of the silence of the night. He started massaging your shoulders, the pads of his thumbs caressing the knots beneath your skin well enough you let out a quiet moan, which got the man hard, instantly. He had never heard this sound from you. He would do anything to hear it again.

You stretched out your tired arms, cracked your knuckles. You raked your head to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend standing behind you, messy hair and sleepy eyes, a soft smile plastered on his lips. You sighed. He looked so inviting, screaming of comfort and warmth, of relaxation — but your essay wasn't even half-finished, and the deadline for it came nearer day by day. Ever since you had started dating Chan there had been moments you wished for your perfectionism to vanish — it would allow you more time with your boyfriend, and wouldn't take so much a toll on your nerves, atop that.

You looked back at your laptop screen, the filled Word document staring back at you.

"I can't take a break yet, I planned to finish this chapter by today." You looked back again, adjusting your glasses, a playfully stern look in your eyes. You raised your pointer finger, scrunched your brows. "I'm running on a strict schedule here. Don't you dare distract me."

Your eyes were back on your screen, and while Chan was busy laughing at your joke, he understood that it wasn't truly one — you were already back to writing on your paper, ignoring him entirely again. His palms still lay flat on your skin, warm against him, soft. He squeezed at your shoulders, massaged where you've held most tension; you moaned out again, quiet and shy, and stretched out your neck; yet your eyes were glued to your laptop.

Chan lowered his head to your level, planting one kiss to your temple; he ought to take different manners into account, if a simple massage didn't work it.

You hummed when another kiss met your skin, on the bit behind your ear, and another on your ear. You giggled then, when his breath fanned over your neck before a feather-light kiss met it right after, tickling in its' touch. You felt Chan's hands on your shoulders still, easing the knots in your muscles, succeeding in relaxing you with only a few simple touches.

"Babe...", you breathed out, lulling your head to your side, to allow the man more space on your neck. His mouth was making a slow journey further down your neck, kissing every inch before moving on.

"...what are you doing..."

Your voice breathless, and he hadn't even done much; though it didn't take much with him, ever. It needed a touch, a kiss, and he made you feel like never before. You both had never been this intimate before; and though you shied away from it out of pure reflex, your body ached for it, after all.

“Just helping you relax.”, Chan mumbled into your neck, tickling you, and you couldn’t help but giggle. The vibrations of it coursed his veins, and your vanilla scent body-wash intoxicated his senses. You were all around him, taking him hostage with your scent, with your touch, with the sounds of your laughter. His lips disconnected from your skin, and he looked up at you, waiting for you to rake your neck, to reciprocate his gaze. When you did, he planted a quick kiss to the mould between your neck and shoulder, and you blinked slowly, basked in the feeling of his lips on your body.

“Can I?”

His hands lowered themselves on your body, and you knew your boyfriend wasn’t asking to continue the kissing and nibbling on your neck – you knew he was asking for more. Your brows furrowed, in worried anticipation and nervous excitement; but you nodded. You couldn’t not, if the heat between your legs grew with every passing second, when Chan’s mouth, warm and wet and plush tickled so sweetly against your skin; you wondered how much better he could yet make you feel, if you only let him. If you only opened up to him entirely.

The man smiled into the crook of your neck, and gave you another kiss. Long, taking his time; and with one swift motion, he positioned himself between your legs. You have almost not noticed it happening, and were shy now that he kneeled before you, not levelled yet with your sex, but so much closer to it than ever before; it got you wetter, it got you giddy.

Chan saw the look on your face, your worrying eyes, your tense shoulders; he also saw how your thighs rubbed together subtly, how your chest flushed red, how your breath staggered. Cute. He sat up on his heels, almost meeting your eye. He granted you a soft smile, and you eased up to him.

“You just need to relax, I’ll take care of you… will you let me?”

His hands lay by the side of your thighs, his eyes kind, holding your gaze with a hope and excitement so pure you huffed out a breath of relief, and nodded at him. A quiet, soft “Yeah.” left your lips and you palmed his cheek, making Chan tend to your touch; feeling him against your skin eased your nervosity, reminded you of his devotion.

And he started kissing your body. Slow, unhurriedly; he was taking his time. He lifted your shirt a little, so his thumb grazed over the skin of your waist while his lips planted feather-light kisses against the mound of your chest. You hitched a breath; all senses were focused on him. You felt the heat of his body against your own, his callused fingers on your curves, dancing atop them and drawing mindless shapes, his lips sucking and painting your skin in colours of soft blues and reds.

He kissed your stomach. He lifted your tank top with a sheepish grin, waiting for your approval — when you gave it his lips were on you, wet kisses on hot skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Your core was burning, and it felt far too early to throw your head back in pleasure, to moan out his name; you knew it was, you knew Chan yet hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary; but you did, nonetheless, couldn’t hold back the small whine which left your throat in anticipation. You felt Chan smile at that against you; somehow that got you wetter.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. He stayed there for a moment, looking up at you again; he waited for your permission after every inch he travelled on your body, and you gave it. Chan discarded your pants with a swift motion, along with your underwear. You had never sat this bare before him, never saw his eyes so very dark, his pupils so very dilated; his demeanour so very carnal.

And you were burning. Your core was, burning and wet, and you wondered if you dripped onto the chair you sat on. You watched Chan kiss your thighs, you watched him spread your legs, you watched him dive into you, only to further nibble on your inner plush — he was taking his time, but your patience was running out. You enjoyed the feeling of his wet mouth on your skin, on parts so sensitive you weren’t aware yourself; but you sex needed him, it needed his touch.

“Babe...” Your voice whiny, high-pitched; you blushed at it, hadn’t expected to be capable of such sounds. And that’s how Chan eyed you, too, from beneath; his eyes widened, his ears painted a red so bright it shone, and a soft groan vibrated against your body. Were you having the same effect on him than it was the other way around? You almost doubted it, until you caught glimpse of Chan’s erection when he leaned back a bit.

“What is it?”

His voice almost concerned, and you stuttered suddenly; how were you to ask what you wanted? Were you too desperate, begging for him when it was only the first time you’ve been so close to intimacy? You looked at him, eyes wanting, pleading, though you couldn’t find the words. His gaze softened, his hands against your thighs, too.

“You can tell me what you want, don’t be scared.”, he whispered, and something in your abdomen tingled. You grew wetter.

“I want more.”

A whisper, too, and shy, embarrassed, almost; though not for long. Because Chan mumbled a breathy “Fuck.”, and dove into you. His hands spread open your legs, finger digging into your flesh, and you felt his breath against your pussy, suddenly; so sudden you whimpered out quietly, and the sound turned into a loud moan when you felt his tongue on your slit.

It was heaven, it was far better than what you had expected. It was far better, even, than what your own fingers did on sleepless, tireless nights. The feeling of his wet tongue against your wetter cunt made you arch into him, and you couldn’t be shy about it, not anymore. Not when his hands gripped onto your body, snuck around your thighs and holding you in place, or simply closer, or for no reason altogether.

You felt his tongue against your clit, circling there experimentally, staying there when your head threw back and a groan so throaty left you he pulled you closer by your legs.

And he wasn’t quiet, either. Every of his sound, breathy and quiet sighs, low and deep groans vibrated against you, sounded against your core and resonated in your entire body. You vibrated with him, trembled, shook, ached for more. Your fingers in his hair, your palm against his scalp made you push him into you further; it was an instinct, carnal and unexpected, and you grew the very second after. When you felt his tongue against your clit, suddenly, when you felt a throaty chuckle against you; you backed away again, against the chair.

And his eyes spoke more than words. When you looked at him again, curious, when you watched him lap up your wetness with a thick tongue against your entrance and up to your clit, his eyes told you that it was okay. That your pleasure was, that your instincts were; that he would comply for whatever you wanted, whatever you wished for.

Yet you only watched him, because it was a sight you couldn’t possibly miss. His eyes glassy, his mouth wet, covered in your essence. You could smell yourself now, too, and your eyes dared to roll into the back of your head. It was everything, and too much; and you almost dreaded the feeling of tightness in the pit of your stomach. The first feelings of release, the tingling and turning and twisting somewhere between your stomach and your core. You dreaded it, because you wanted to feel Chan longer. You wanted to watch him further, circling the tip of his tongue against you, moaning when he lapped at the wetness by your entrance, when he played there, when he prodded his tongue slowly in, not enough for you to feel anything, yet you felt it all. You wanted to watch him further but your body started to tremble, and your face contorted; when Chan noticed your tense body, the way your hands searched for something to hold on he was quick to react, offering a hand, keeping his pace against your pussy. You were sweet, you were wet, and warm, and everything he didn’t dare imagine, and if he didn’t catch himself in time, he’d be a goner, would mar his pants in sticky cum.

You noticed the hand Chan offered you, and you looked at him before connecting your fingers. You looked shy, embarrassed. He thought you never looked more beautiful.

“Don’t be scared babe. Cum for me. Let go.”

Whispers against you, a voice so soft and breathy you barely heard it, so mumbled into you that you swallowed them whole; but you complied his command, his plead; and you came. Hard, and wet, and loud. You wondered how thick the walls in his dorm were, but only for a second before the thought dissipated again, before your orgasm took over your mind, your body, everything you were. Your thighs shook against him, and you felt his tongue against your puffy clit, so sensitive yet so yearning. Your fingers dug into his hand, and your hips grinded a bit against his face; you didn’t care about it now, and Chan smiled softly into you, though you didn’t feel it.

“That’s it, good girl.”

Only a mumble too, and you would have almost missed his words against the high ringing in your ears; yet when you registered them, when you chewed and swallowed them your head lulled back into your neck, and you whined out his name in crystallized pleasure, raw and real. A pleasure so grand, so caring you’d forgotten about your paper, forgotten about your homework; a pleasure and closeness so great you fell asleep in Chan’s arms that night, content, chest heaving in exhaustion for yet a long time, and a warm, pleasant wetness between your legs.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh

#bang chan smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #chan smut #chan x reader #chan imagines

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little-hermit-crab56 · 1 year ago

Text

I've been writing for a while so I thought I'd share some writing tips I've learned along the way.

1. Never sacrifice the flow for a quirky line.

That bit of dialogue or flowery paragraph you really like but it kinda disrupts the flow? Scrap it. I know it hurts, but you need to. If you really want to keep it, find somewhere else to put it where it actually fits in.

2. Dialogue is a dance.

Dialogue should go at the pace of an actual conversation, back and forth with little breaks and pauses. Add as little dialogue tags as possible while still making it clear who is speaking. You can also describe what is happening during a pause in the conversation rather than saying they paused, unless the pause is important.

3. Show don't tell is a guideline, not a rule.

Show don't tell is a very useful guideline, but if you're ALWAYS showing it can get exhausting to read. Skip the boring bits and just tell us what happened, then we can get to the good stuff.

4. If it's boring to write, it's probably boring to read.

If you can cut out a whole scene with little consequence to the story, you probably should. As I said before, you don't always have to show us, you can always tell us.

5. Everything needs to have a purpose.

I know there are probably lots of interesting or cute scenes where your characters are just fucking around, but if it doesn't develop character, relations, conflict, or plot, why should we care? Definitely still write them if they make you happy, but if you're gonna add it to your final draft, make sure it matters.

6. You don't need to explain everything all at once.

I know it feels tempting to put all the lore, and all the character's intentions, and reasonings into the first few chapters, but please refrain, you can reserve that for your character and worldbuilding sheets. Instead, take the time to let us get to know the characters, and the world, in the same way we'd get to know a real person. Make your exposition as seamless and natural as possible. It will take practice to know when to reveal information and when to let us wonder, but you'll get there.

7. Write in a way that comes naturally.

I know you probably have an author you wanna write just like, but that is unlikely to happen. Embrace your natural writing style and perfect it, rather than trying to be something you're not. Writing is an art, you need to find your own style and polish it as best you can.

8. Try to make us feel connected by cutting out certain words like "felt".

"Chad felt like a glass of water." Can be replaced with, "Chad was thirsty, so he reached for a glass of water." Both sentences tell us Chad wants a glass of water, but one makes us feel more connected to Chad than the other. Though both sentences have their time and place, you want to make your audience feel as close to their protagonist as possible. Make them feel like they're there, rather than just an onlooker.

9. We don't need to know every physical detail of your character.

I know you probably spent ages creating the perfect characters and you want to give us the perfect image of what they look like, but it can get monotonous and boring, why do we care that your character has brown eyes unless the colour has some sort of significance? Try to list off only the most notable features of your character and put focus only on the relevant details. Sometimes you can even not describe them at all and throw in little bits of information about their appearance for the audience to put together. We read to imagine, not to have a perfect image painted for us when we could be getting to the plot.

10. You're allowed to be vague.

Allow your audience to assume things, with some things you can just be lazy and let your audience's imagination do the work for you. Of course, don't do this with important things, but you can save so much time you might've spent researching an irrelevant topic when you can just be vague about it. You don't have to know everything you're writing about, so long as you know the bits that matter.

11. Writing is a skill that takes practice.

Don't be so hard on yourself if your writing is a bit cringe, we've all been there. The important part is that you research how to get better and keep writing those super cringe chapters. One day you'll reread something from a while ago and realize you're actually not as bad as you thought.

12. Leave your work to rest.

I know you wanna start editing right away, but once you've finished, leave it for at least a month. The longer you leave it the better, but that depends on your attention span. A month to six months is good if you're really impatient but want a good result. If you keep writing in that time your skills will continue to improve, then you'll be editing that draft with fresh eyes and fresh skills.

And if you're a fanfic author, I usually leave my chapters for a week before editing and posting.

Hope this helps anyone struggling, I thought this might be especially relevant now with nanowrimo.

I recently realized how much knowledge I've been accumulating over the years, I definitely have more but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm no writing guru, but if anyone has anything they're struggling with, I can do my best to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask questions.

#writing tips #nanowrimo #story writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing #writer

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islandofsages · 10 months ago

Note

HEYY!! I love your writing from what i've read and i was wondering if i could ask for a gn reader (yuu) teaching the housewardens about like classic fandom lore- like imagine them turning into matpat to explain fnaf and undertale!! 😭😭 feel free to not do this and have a good day!! Thanks :D

characters: housewardens x gn!yuu

tags: platonic, fluff, crack kinda, imagines format

warnings: swearing

author's notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG also all the fandoms mentioned here are all fandoms ive been in at some point :D fun times mhm

Riddle Rosehearts

He knows you’re very passionate about fandom culture but you never really had the chance to infodump about it to him

Until one day, you drop by Heartslabyul for a leisurely visit, when you see a not-so-clearly distressed Riddle sitting in the lounge

Not-so-clearly meaning he’s holding a teacup in his hand yet not drinking it, eyes closed as if he’s holding in all his emotions

You grow worried at this sight and slide next to him on the couch where he is seated, hoping you can help alleviate some of that stress

He sees you and he allows himself a sigh, then musters up a smile for you. He greets you and you cut straight to the point - can you help him with anything?

He releases a second sigh and shakes his head, telling you he only needs some sort of distraction. He just had a long day and needs to take his mind off things

You take a second to think of things that you can distract him with – that’s when a lightbulb goes off in your head. This is a prime opportunity for you

“Okay, I’m guessing you haven’t heard of Five Nights at Freddy’s since it’s a franchise from my world and all but the lore is crazy. So it starts like this…”

He wasn’t expecting to be paying much attention to the contents of what you’re saying but sooner or later, he ends up leaning towards you with his hand cupping his chin, mouth slightly agape at the story you’re telling

This inspires you to dump even more information about the media somehow at the rate that you’re going

By the end of it, he’s completely forgotten what he was so worried about. His head is full of creepy pizzerias for kids and haunted animatronics

He ends up having some trouble sleeping that night though. He’ll get you for that later.

Leona Kingscholar

He won’t lie, your interest in fandoms is too reminiscent of Idia for him – he doesn’t admit this to you obviously, since he hasn’t had the chance to

But on one particularly boring day, you decide to skip class with him and he lets you tag along for the hell of it

In the span of three seconds, he’s already off in dreamland. Sometimes you wish you had such a skill

Since you have nothing better to do and he’s way too deep in his sleep to even care anyway, you start rambling to yourself and a slumbering Leona

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about Undertale lately so I need to dump it all somewhere. So basically you play as this kid…”

Little do you know halfway through his nap, he wakes up from how much you’re talking. At first, he’s annoyed by your yapping but then he grows interest in what you’re saying

He’s almost tempted to try that game for himself and almost disappointed that it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland. Emphasis on almost.

When you’re done rambling, that’s when he stretches his arms over his head and yawn, commenting how noisy you were

You shrug it off. You're used to him complaining about you yapping instead of napping alongside him

…But then he asks you to tell him more about Undertale, if there's any more information you’re keeping from him out of the kindness of your heart

You smile smugly at this and his expression seems to say “don't make me regret asking” but oh, you definitely will make him regret even being friends with you in the first place

Needless to say, regrets were not the only thing he held at the end of that day.

Azul Ashengrotto

Similar to Leona, your fixation on fandom culture reminds him too much of Idia. not that that’s necessarily a bad thing - it’s more of an observation

And he gets more than an observation when you get the chance to show him what you’re made of: useless fandom culture and gaming knowledge

Speaking of Idia, he goes to you as a last resort to ask you to help him understand whatever the hell Idia’s talking about

You don’t know too much about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture just yet but when Azul explains the premise of a certain game and its fandom, it gives you an idea

“Sounds pretty similar to Yandere Simulator. Ooh, that one has a lot of history. Let me tell you about it…”

Unfortunately for him, he ended up unlocking your geekiness instead of having you address the things he was confused with

But at least your story makes it a bit easier to understand? He’s yet to decide that really but at least it sounds like you’re taking his lack of slang knowledge into consideration

Your infodump really gripped his attention though - it’s interesting to know another side of human culture, even if it’s not the humans of Twisted Wonderland

He would nod understandingly (or at least, politely) and thank you and your geekiness

He relays your story to Idia and finds it intriguing how similar fandom culture is in both Twisted Wonderland and your world

He would invite you to Board Game Club meetings so that you can rave and find out more about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture with Idia

He’d realize that was a big mistake and he may or may not have created the nerdiest pair in the world - but you guys are his nerdiest pair in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s very curious about fandom culture - he doesn’t know too much about it nor anyone who knows a lot about it so almost all the fandom information in his head are from you

He really wants to know more!!! So of course that warrants a hangout session fabricated as a study session to get Jamil’s stamp of approval

So there you are in his room, books laid out in front of the two of you but most importantly, a laptop

You two watch about a dozen videos on Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture and as you absorb all the very-much-useful information, you sneak in tidbits from the culture of your world

“This one in particular is reminiscent of Danganronpa. Man, that one was a wild ride…”

It’s exciting to be able to talk about it with someone you trust wholeheartedly, especially Kalim, whom you know wouldn’t be so judging

He only nods in understanding at every point you made, his eyes sparkling with all the curiosity in his body

You were on your thirteenth video when you two are interrupted by a rap on the door and an unfortunately-familiar voice

So obviously you and your bestie hurriedly rush to close all the tabs on your laptop and open up something more academically-inclined

Which is obviously a…dictionary site

Jamil blinks twice at this, says nothing (but probably noting how it makes sense for you guys since you two are bumbling idiots) and walks away

If there’s any dictionary being read that day, it’d be a dictionary of fandom terminology, that’s for sure.

Vil Schoenheit

He doesn’t know too much about it - and doesn’t bother to learn much about it since he has better things to do - but since it’s you, he tries his best to be a good listener

The two of you sit down in the courtyard one day, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves music to your ears; beauty truly is everywhere around you when you’re next to him

He’s talking about something. You’re not sure what because you’re entranced by the way his hair hangs above his eyes so elegantly. He notices this and calls you out for it

You shrug and excuse how you can’t help it - he’s like a dating simulator love interest in the real. He asks you what you mean by this. Now’s your chance to shine!

“Hmm, you know, something like Mystic Messenger? Hehe, let me tell you a bit about it…”

Unluckily for him, your “a bit” turns out to be a four-hour long ramble about the aforementioned dating simulator a little too reminiscent of Rook for his liking too

Despite his reservations, he really did enjoy hearing you talk so passionately about your interest; it’s a bonus that the topic itself is interesting

He tells you he wouldn’t mind trying out the game or at least finding out more about it though unfortunately it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland

You share his shame - until he says he’ll pitch the concept of the game to some authorities he know and perhaps make it a reality

Sorry, he’s going to what now?

You’re a little shaken. Sometimes you forget he’s a world-class model, despite his looks and mannerisms. You save your nerves for if a Twisted Wonderland version of Mystic Messenger actually ends up happening

He thanks you for enlightening him about fandom and video gaming culture. You use this as a cue to add another four hours of ranting about V’s route in the game.

Idia Shroud

You’re another victim for him to taint… or so he thought. You’re more of an ally than a victim at this point, considering how nerdy you are

He’d dump fandom lore on you and you’d reciprocate it right back. He’s genuinely so impressed with your knowledge, even if they differ by some degree due to being from different worlds

He gets more impressed when you pull up with knowledge about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture like damn, you really brushed up on your talking points already

Friendly rivalry aside, he really does enjoy talking about fandom culture with you and hearing about the things from your world - every story you tell adds a little color into his world

One day, the two of you are leaning on each other, on your phones because of course you are, even if you two are friends, talking still isn’t Idia’s strong suit

That’s when you blurt it out–

“Hey, wanna hear about this game called Persona? It’s a turn-based RPG and…”

Regardless of his response to your question, you ended up babbling away either way. It’s how conversations start between the two of you

You’re speaking so fast, he would have mistaken you for a rapper - or a doppelganger of himself even

Consider him entertained - he finds himself smiling by the end of your yapping and intrigued by your story

He then obviously starts to relate it to something from Twisted Wonderland, passing the listener baton to you

You don’t mind – you can stay there for hours and hours, just going back and forth with your fellow nerdy-ass friend.

Malleus Draconia

This man barely knows how to use a smartphone so you had to be a little patient with him when guiding him through the fandom culture trenches

He’s happy that you trust and cherish him enough to talk about your interests with no reservations or shame – and the feeling is mutual

On a certain weekend, the two of you are hanging out as usual. Chatting as friends would do

You don’t know why but the conversation reminded you of a certain fandom

“It’s kinda like Genshin’s community, I guess. They’re a riot, let me tell you that.”

Oh? What’s a Genshin and why is its community a riot?

You’re glad he asked – because you’ve prepared a 100-slide presentation on the history of the game and its fans

He asks you why and how did you find the time to make that. You tell him to shut up and that it doesn’t matter, he just needs to listen to you

You start and it feels like you’ll never stop – there’s just so much to say and Malleus has so much time in the world

Seeing his reactions to certain events makes you crack up and at times, you’d laugh at his shocked expressions (or sigh exhaustively, depending on the event you’re explaining)

When you finally stop, he gives you a one-man standing ovation. You blush a little at the attention and unexpected reaction but you appreciate his sentiment nonetheless. He tells you that your presentation has been very informative for him

You’re relieved to have been able to get that off your chest… and Malleus is more than ecstatic to relay the information to everyone he’s ever known. You obviously pretend that you had no involvement in his sudden investment of a game from another world.

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egcdeath · 5 months ago

Text

out in the open

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: your wedding night doesn’t go as smoothly as you expect it to. succession au - tomshiv adjacent (previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3)

word count: 8.8k

warnings: failmarriage, fluff in the beginning, cheating, angst, jealousy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol and smoking, suggestive content, insecurity, patrick is kinda the worst in this. he does get better though.

author’s note: full disclaimer things are pretty angsty and they only get angstier from here. cheating is a major plot point from this point forward. there will be a few happier moments but it’s mostly bad vibes and tension from this point on.

i say this with every fic i post in this universe but i truly could not have written this without the help of my succession anon!! weddingnightgate (WNG) is such a big moment in this au and they really helped me get my thoughts in order and helped me world build. i hope you all enjoy the upcoming pain!

When you were young, you always dreamed about your wedding. You fantasized about a huge venue somewhere halfway around the world that would easily fit all of your closest friends and family members and of celebrity guests who would give you well wishes for the marriage and smiled at you in spite of their envy at your beautiful event. You imagined a gorgeous, intricate dress with a train so long that you’d need assistance going down the aisle, a cake the size of your tallest guest, and a groom who was as handsome as he was loving, pressing the promise of True Love’s Kiss onto your lips after he read you his vows.

Maybe your enthusiasm for weddings was fueled by a few too many movies where the princess found her prince charming and lived happily ever after with him, but you still fell in love with the idea of love, and the thought that a wedding should be as beautiful as the love itself was.

You would never forget the first wedding you attended, despite being so young that you shouldn’t have really recalled it. You somehow managed to worm your way into being the flower girl at your aunt’s wedding, skipping excitedly down the aisle of the beachside venue, tossing flowers with reckless abandon. As you watched the rest of the ceremony from the safety of your mother’s hip, you couldn’t help but to imagine yourself being the one to walk down the aisle someday.

Much like your first wedding memory, you also couldn’t forget the first time you learned about divorce. Though you were young, the memory of your best friend crying next to you during recess as she sobbed out the news that her parents were splitting forever stuck out in your mind. You’d been fed the idea that love was strong and everlasting for so long, that the very notion that there were some things that love couldn’t withstand rocked you to your core.

From that point on, you became more grounded in your approach to love. Love was rarely a fairytale, and it was naive for you to assume that your future wedding would be one either.

As the years went by, you grew more realistic about your expectations for the future. You found a boyfriend who you dated throughout the latter half of your undergraduate years and through your time in business school, and fully expected to settle down with him—though you knew you’d be settling in the most literal sense. While he was a stable figure in your life, he was boring, and his aspirations in life for both you and himself didn’t align at all with what you saw yourself doing. He wanted a wife, and you wanted to make a name for yourself doing the work that was meaningful to you.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, you realized that you had two options in front of you: follow your own dreams or follow his.

Naivety be damned, you chose yourself and never looked back.

In your pursuit of making your non-love related aspirations come true, you abandoned all hope that your pipe-dream of a fantasy wedding would ever come to fruition. It occasionally felt like your hopes were incompatible—to be a successful businesswoman meant giving up all prospects of a romantic life. It seemed like everyone you encountered was put off by your lack of work-life balance, or wanted to hunt you for sport and turn you into a trophy wife.

You’d practically given up all hope by the time you met Patrick, fully expecting to be able to use him for a brief fling and a connection to get into his family’s company. What you weren’t expecting was to find someone whose company you genuinely enjoyed, who understood you on a level you hadn’t experienced with anyone else, and a love that occasionally left you wondering if you were a protagonist in the movies you loved watching as a girl.

If someone told you that years after meeting Patrick, that one day you would be gazing into his eyes with tears in yours as you listened to his vows, or telling him that you do take him to be your husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death did you two part.

Your wedding ceremony felt straight out of your girlish dreams, with Patrick’s beautiful family castle serving as the venue, paparazzi-worthy guests, a dress that felt like a direct product of your wildest imagination, and a groom that seemed to be as close to a prince charming as reality could get.

You were on cloud nine throughout the ceremony, basking in every single moment. You felt like you were floating by the time you got to the reception, your brain in the clouds as you and your now-husband cut your massive cake and gave toasts.

It was all a blur in the best way possible, your elation making what you thought might be an embarrassing moment of a first dance exciting, and the subsequent socializing with guests substantially more bearable.

What was slightly less bearable was the speed at which you were separated from your husband, the two of you occasionally catching the others eye from across the room, but otherwise being separated from surprisingly demanding guests who wanted to wish you luck on your marriage or excitedly share how amazing they found the ceremony to be.

Occasionally, you were able to squeeze in a brief moment with your spouse, bringing him a flute of champagne and momentarily pulling him away from an exceptionally chatty shareholder, but you seemed to be frequently whisked away from each other.

After what felt like a lifetime apart from each other, you felt the familiar, comforting warmth of Patrick’s hand on your lower back as he approached you from behind. When he announced to the extended family members standing across from you that he needed a moment alone with you, you almost leapt with joy. Nothing seemed more appealing than a private conversation with him after a long night of socializing with friends and colleagues.

It almost felt ironic that during an event that should’ve been focused on the two of you as a pair, you were separated and kept apart by people with business pitches and opposing interests, excited to hop onto whatever opportunity your union might bring them.

Patrick took you by surprise as he led you up the stairs and to your bedroom. It seemed a little early to begin your wedding night festivities, but if he was really that enthusiastic about it, you were certain that you could share some of his excitement.

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” you commented as you shut the door behind you. “So much for not talking about work at the wedding. I guess it’s too much to ask for one day to celebrate you being my husband before talking about the business again.”

You walked over to the vanity, preparing to touch up your makeup. You shot a glance over at your partner, who cautiously sat himself down on your bed, fidgeting with his hands as he did so. Not paying him any mind, you began to reapply your lipstick in the mirror and looked at his reflection, catching that he seemed to be in deep thought, but not thinking too much of it. It was probably something a shareholder told him. Maybe his sister was planning yet another attempt at a hostile takeover of the business.

“Husband. Wow, you’re my husband now. That feels so crazy to say. Husband, husband, husband,” you mused, a ball of excited energy. “Well, husband, what did you pull me in to talk about? Is it Sherry’s dress? It’s really hideous. I can’t believe she would wear something like that to our wedding,” you continued to ramble. “Or do you want a sneak peak of what I’ve got going on under this dress?”

You were shocked to find Patrick mostly unresponsive to your rapid words. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to gossip about his social circle or flirt with you. You pulled your attention away from yourself in the mirror and turned your head back to look at your husband, only to be met with a mostly unreadable expression, apart from the hint of a sad smile on his face.

Suddenly, things didn’t feel so fun. For some unexplained reason, you felt a small pit appear in the depths of your stomach. While you didn’t know exactly what was wrong, something obviously didn’t feel right. There was no reason for your partner to be looking as unsettled as he did on his own wedding night.

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?” you stood up and began to approach him from where he was sitting on the bed, making it more apparent to you that his brows were drawn together in what could only be the beginning of a frown.

“Of course not,” he assured you, though guilt was written all over his face. You weren’t sure how you should interpret your husband looking like a child who just broke an expensive vase on your wedding night, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, the small pit that appeared in your stomach growing into a slightly larger pit. As much as you wanted to dismiss it as nothing, the heavy tension hanging in the air warned you that the odds of his confession being nothing were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment.

“Uh,” he paused as if he was considering his next words very carefully—almost as if he didn’t want to say them at all. You desperately wanted him to speak, rather than keep you hanging. With your nerves exponentially growing with every passing second, you began to feel like if he didn’t say anything soon, you might throw up all over your reception dress.

“Patrick, please spit it out. You’re kinda scaring me,” you could already feel yourself growing upset, despite the fact that he hadn’t said a single word to indicate what was going on with him. Your heart quickened in your chest as you anticipated his next words, despite not having a clue about what might come out of his mouth.

“We always said that if something happened, we could handle it like adults,” the statement was vague and simple, yet Patrick seemed to be choking it out. His cryptic message rattled around in your brain as you desperately searched for meaning in them. Before you could even begin to ask him what he meant, you registered the dismissive, callous language.

Though he didn’t say it often, he had confused you with those very words before—the verbiage alarmingly reminiscent of what he told you before your bachelorette party, or when you brought up the lack of an infidelity clause in his prenup.

If anything ever happened with anyone else, we could both handle it. We’re adults and we can handle things like adults.

Though his words were curious, you dismissed them at the time, never expecting that to be an issue. Of all of your problems with Patrick—his difficulty expressing his emotions, his complicated relationship with his family, his lack of experience in love—you never expected infidelity to be one of those problems.

You swallowed, your saliva feeling thick and poisonous as it slowly crept down your throat. “Honey, what do you mean?”

Patrick didn’t speak, looking down at the pristinely folded sheets in front of him rather than at you. “I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to get out.

You looked at Patrick blankly, waiting for him to tell you that whatever you were assuming wasn’t true or that he was pulling some sort of cruel prank on you. Instead, all you were met with was the sound of blood urgently rushing through your ears and the faint bassline of whatever song the DJ was playing at your reception.

“You know that love is complicated for me,” he looked in your direction, but couldn’t sustain eye contact with you. “Can we be adults about this?”

Once it became clear to you what exactly Patrick was trying to tell you, your knees gave out on you, the rest of your body overwhelmed with the unfathomable information that your brain was trying to process. Patrick cheated on you—and he was telling you just hours after you got married.

The truth of the situation sucked the air right out of your lungs and the strength right out of your body. Your knees buckled under you, and you desperately seeked out anything you could sit on. You settled on the foot of the bed, across from where your husband nervously sat.

“Fuck,” you dug the palms of your hands into your eyes, surely smudging the makeup on your eyelids as you attempted to collect your thoughts. “Who was it?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” he pathetically attempted to explain away. It all sounded like gibberish to you. For all you knew, your husband was speaking a totally different language to you.

Despite your question and Patrick’s non-answer, you somehow felt like you knew exactly who he’d been with. The answer was all over his discomfort when he saw you talking to the woman without him by your side, and the way she sized you up and attempted to psych you out of marrying Patrick not even 24 hours ago.

“Was it Tashi?” you asked, not even listening to his empty words and keeping your face frighteningly neutral. You spoke the words like you were playing a round of Guess Who, calm and even despite the budding feeling of dread in your stomach.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. His deafening silence was answer enough

“Can I kick her out?” you asked with an alarmingly stable tone, still mostly unable to process this information, but knowing that it wasn’t good.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, head still hung and unable to make eye contact with you.

As you took in the truly depressing sight in front of you—your husband’s hunched over posture, a shame so strong that he couldn’t even look at you, and his clipped, short answers—you couldn’t deny that you were tempted to comfort him. In any other situation, if Patrick was feeling a fraction of the negative emotion he seemed to be feeling in that moment, you would instantly be at his side, holding his hand reassuringly or holding him close in a way that told him that if no one else was there for him, you would be, but you weren’t sure you could legitimize his bad behavior with such a response.

Instinctually, you reached out to touch him like you’d done a thousand times before, giving him a hug before a big event or spooning him after a family member said something that got under his skin, but you instantly reprimanded yourself. Despite how sad he looked, Patrick was the one who hurt you. You were the one who deserved comfort.

You opted to pat Patrick’s back instead, a strange and impersonal action. For a moment, you felt less like his wife and more like a practically estranged family member, not sure how to greet you after meeting you for the first time three Thanksgivings ago.

Your husband barely reacted to the stiff action, only looking at you wordlessly with glossed-over eyes. You got up from the foot of the bed and left wordlessly and neutrally, a robot whose only orders were to get out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

The moment the door closed, the next goal settled into your mind—you couldn’t let Tashi spend another second in the venue, socializing with your family and drinking the wine that your parents so kindly provided to the wedding, as if she hadn’t been partaking in an affair with your husband.

You felt half a bride and half a zombie as you left the confines of the bedroom and wandered the hallways. You were stone faced as you made your way back to the reception, trying to wrap your head and heart around devastating information that was shared with you at the most inopportune time possible.

You made a slow march down the stairs, movement hindered by your dress, and imagined what you might say to Tashi once you saw her. You should’ve known something was off from the start. You should’ve trusted the bad feeling you had when she sized you up at the bar, smirking at you like the cat who got the cream before feeding you anecdotes about how sleazy your husband used to be for no apparent reason. You should’ve trusted that feeling when Patrick rushed over to pull you away.

You wished you paid attention when Patrick faintly smelled of feminine perfume when you surprised him by coming back from a business trip earlier than anticipated, or when you noticed a bracelet that didn’t belong to you sitting on your coffee table, one that disappeared the very next day. It was so easy to write the signs off at the time–the fragrance of your personal chef and the jewelry of one of his sisters–but it no longer felt that simple. Patrick was a lot of things, but you never expected that a cheater was one of those things.

The thought of Patrick with someone else made you nauseous, especially in your own home. You faintly wondered if they’d fucked in your bed or on the couch. If the answer was yes to either, you desperately wanted to burn the pieces of furniture. In fact, that would be the first thing you set out to do when you returned home after your honeymoon. Maybe you would even beg Patrick to move to a new place, one not haunted by the memories of him and another woman.

That was, if your relationship even survived through the honeymoon. Let alone the night. You didn’t have a clue what your next steps would be. Would you be the fool who stays with a man who proved himself to be disloyal? Or would you be the fool who offered herself to the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the world? You would lose your husband, your job, and your livelihood in one fell swoop, surely being banished back to your family home in Minnesota, destined to be a receptionist at your father’s law firm for the rest of your life.

The entire situation felt surreal in the worst possible way. You couldn’t believe that while you were dealing with the aftermath of this information, Tashi was waltzing around at your reception. More than that, you couldn’t believe the information itself: Patrick cheated. Your fiancé cheated. Your husband cheated on you.

The same Patrick who became a groomzilla, laser-focused on giving you your dream wedding, cheated. The same man who confessed that he didn’t know what love felt like before he met you cheated on you. Your husband, who went out of his way to do anything to make you happy, even at the expense of his very powerful family, hadn’t been loyal to you.

None of it made sense. Maybe you would walk back into the room and your guests would jump out from behind tables and reveal that this was all a cruel joke—a little hazing as you officially became a Zweig—their laughter filling up the room at the thought that you would ever believe something as ridiculous as Patrick cheating on you.

You bit back bile as you walked into the room, the party continuing on the same way it had before you left and before you reentered—no prank to be found. The cacophony of loud music and the chatter of your guests filling your ears once more—what felt fun and exciting just moments before, now being far too overstimulating for someone trying to process information that could fundamentally alter the course of their relationship. You did your best to block out all of the extra noise and focus on your goal at hand.

Find Tashi. Send her home.

You weren’t sure what you would actually do when you saw her. Would you yell at her? Slap her for being a homewrecker? Cry at the sight of her? Laugh at the absurdity of your husband telling you that he’d been having an affair with her on your wedding night?

Peripherally, you heard someone call your name excitedly, only slightly pulling you out of your trance. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to acknowledge whatever excited friend or family member as your eyes set on your target. Tashi Duncan, Patrick’s coworker and ex-girlfriend.

Where you admired her beauty and confidence just a day before, you found you now resented every positive aspect about her. As she stood by a table and talked to one of Patrick’s sisters, surely bored out of her mind by the delusional ramblings about his sister someday being the president, she nodded and smiled diplomatically.

As you really began to think about it, you realized that she was the perfect candidate to be Patrick’s wife. She came from a background similar to his, his sisters liked her far more than they liked you—though that didn’t mean much—and physically, she seemed to be exactly your husband’s type.

Part of you wondered if she was feeling as miserable as you were; if she’d spent the day imagining your wedding to be her own, if her own jealousy was blinding her the way that yours currently was blinding you, or if she’d begged Patrick not to marry you during their work meeting the previous night. The other part of you wondered if she thought of you as pathetic as you currently felt—a stupid woman so blinded by her own love that she overlooked every beaming, bright red flag.

Your pace quickened as you walked towards Tashi, heels clicking annoyingly as they marked your pace. As you made your way to the table, you found yourself growing more anxious, the first real feeling you’d felt since Patrick shared with you the truth about his infidelity.

“Hey,” you greeted Tashi and Patrick’s sister, voice surprisingly even for how agitated you were. “Mind if I chat with Tashi?”

“Go ahead,” Cornelia shrugged. “Let’s stay in touch?” she asked Tashi, who politely agreed and watched the other woman walk off.

Tashi opened her mouth to speak to you, presumably to comment on something asinine about the wedding, or to make an observation about your wedding that you’d already heard a thousand times that night. If you weren’t so upset, you would make a bet with yourself on whether she’d tell you how beautiful the wedding was, or how beautiful you and your husband looked at the altar.

“Your housing for the night fell through,” you explained in a very level tone. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was what came out of your mouth.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding more than a little skeptical, before lifting her drink to her lips. “Do you know where else I might be able to find lodging at this hour?”

“No,” you replied quickly and with ease. “Actually, it’d probably be best if you just went home now.”

“Home like…?” she trailed off and eyed you curiously.

“Like back to New York. I’m sure you can find a flight.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “You realize this is a work function for me, right? I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you can do that work back home,” you dismissed, not backing down. By now, it was clear that Tashi was putting together the pieces of what you knew. In fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred to her why the two of you were having this conversation in the first place.

Maybe it was the lack of your now-husband beside you, or the barely concealed emotion on your face. Regardless of what was your biggest tell on the situation, you continued to stare her down, resenting the way her lips shifted into a small smile, as if she still had the upper hand and knew something that you didn’t. It was almost as if she found the whole ordeal to be a little amusing, which only bothered you more.

“No need to make a scene at your wedding. I’ll be on my way.” She lifted her glass up once again to finish the drink off, but you stopped her.

You returned intense eye contact with her as you took the stemware right out of her hands and put it to your own lips, finishing the drink in a few large gulps. Though your action was impulsive, it felt like somewhat of a necessity. You desperately needed the liquid distraction from your less-than-ideal situation, and you didn’t want to give her an excuse to linger at your party a single moment longer than she needed to.

She continued to stare at you, her expression somewhere in the middle of being impressed and weirded out. “Alright then. Well, congratulations on the wedding.”

“Fuck off,” you spat out, turning on your heel and walking away without bothering to see if she stayed or left.

You made your rounds around the reception, smiling and talking to your guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. The shock of Patrick’s initial confession wore off shortly after you told Tashi off, but you still couldn’t help but feel completely numb to the situation. How else were you supposed to react when you found out the love of your life was sleeping with someone else?

You continued to man the reception on your own, occasionally scanning the room but not catching a glimpse of your husband. You wondered if he was still in your bedroom, head in his hands as he wondered if he just opened a Pandora’s box on your relationship, or if Tashi went to go find him to discuss how poorly you reacted to the information. For all you knew, the two of them could be laughing at you or having sex in your wedding bed at the same time that you attempted to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You grew faint at the mere thought.

Eventually, you felt a familiar hand on the small of your back, something that typically was a welcome, comforting gesture. Instead, you wanted to flinch away from his hand like it was hot. You couldn’t believe that Patrick had the nerve to touch you like everything was fine after dropping such devastating information on you. Then again, at least he wasn’t hooking up with Tashi one last time.

Still, even under the spell of a sadness that hadn’t quite settled in yet, you leaned into his touch instinctively. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel as comfortable as it did a few hours ago.

“Such a beautiful ceremony,” a family friend of Patrick’s gushed to you. “You two have something really special.”

You felt Patrick’s eyes sear into you, desperately pleading for you to look back into them and show him that everything was going to be okay. That what you had was special enough that you’d be able to move past this. Like adults, as he said to you earlier.

You weren’t so sure that you could.

The rest of the night moved painfully slowly. Where the two of you socialized separately before his private conversation with you, he seemed to be attached to your hip now, bringing you apology offers of champagne flutes and hor d'oeuvres.

Though he pleaded with you to handle your situation like adults, you wanted to act more like a petulant child. If you had it your way, you would reject his offerings of food by tossing them onto the floor, or throw a glass of sticky alcohol in his face as if you were a Real Housewife.

If you had it your way, Patrick wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place, and you’d be celebrating your wedding without the baggage of uncertainty for the future of your relationship.

As you walked through the reception, you weren’t particularly angry or sad, you just felt numb. There was a strange concession in knowing that what happened in the past already happened, and that there was no way for you to change your husband’s behavior. For a moment, you wondered if the numbness was a symptom of the shock that was Patrick’s confession, or you would feel the dull thud of nothingness for the rest of your life.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you watched the last of your guests filtered out of the venue, relieved to finally drop the façade of being a happy newlywed and to embrace the true feeling of shock that had been biting at you all night.

Somehow managing to break away from your suddenly very clingy spouse, you wasted no time gathering an unopened bottle of wine for yourself, along with a cigarette and a lighter, which you unceremoniously exchanged with a caterer for a Venmo payment. You then headed outside to a balcony that overlooked a beautiful sprawling garden.

You looked out on the neatly trimmed hedges and the bench where you sat with Patrick not even twenty-four hours ago and distantly thought about how perfectly the night should’ve gone. You got married at a beautiful venue, had every detail down to the positioning of napkins meticulously planned, and most importantly, were marrying someone you genuinely loved and couldn’t see yourself living without.

It was all rather devastating now, to see how just a few words managed to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

You took a swig from the bottle, lamenting the fact that his affair partner had been drinking this very wine earlier that night. At the thought of Tashi, you took yet another hefty swig.

Just as you reached for the lighter to light the cigarette you so desperately needed, Patrick burst through the doors of the balcony, slightly out of breath and sweat beading on his forehead. In between his heavy breaths, you swore you caught a sigh of relief.

You couldn’t say that you were pleased to see him—after all, you’d escaped to the balcony to get a little time alone and to think through the night—but as you took in his dramatic entrance and disheveled appearance, it became abundantly clear to you that he’d been urgently looking for you.

“Want some?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle. Your question was more than just an offer for a drink, but a peace treaty, offering Patrick to stay outside with you despite your more complicated feelings towards him.

“Sure,” he agreed, still slightly out of breath. He collected himself as you passed him the bottle, locking eyes with you as he took a swig from the expensive drink. It felt like time moved a little slower as you watched his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and the way his Adam's apple bobbed while the drink went down.

You suddenly realized that complicated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt towards Patrick. You loved him more than anything, and you were sure that you needed him in your life—but beneath the thick layers of numbness was a reservoir of hurt, far deeper than you ever imagined you could harbor for the man.

He passed the bottle back to you, his hands gently brushing over yours. Momentarily, you felt scandalized by the action, unsure if you should feel your cheeks heating up from the small touch or if you should flinch away from it. By the time the brief moment was over, you hadn’t done either, electing to set your gaze back over the rail instead of at your partner.

Patrick stood silently beside you, not requesting anything more to drink or even attempting to make small talk. It seemed that he was just as aware as you were that he’d changed your entire dynamic with just a few words. You wondered if he realized just how much he’d fucked both of you by fucking someone else.

You shivered in the cold night, your dress not providing you much coverage in the elements. If your wedding night had gone any differently, Patrick would’ve offered you his suit jacket, draping the item over your shoulders and kissing you sweetly. Then again, if the night had gone differently, you likely wouldn’t be shivering on the balcony in the first place.

You squatted to set down the bottle on the ground and rediscovered the cigarette and lighter. Though you weren’t usually one to smoke, you desperately needed it after the shitshow that was your wedding night.

Though you put the stick to your lips, you struggled to light the cigarette, the frigid breeze making everything slightly more difficult. It didn’t help that you hadn’t smoked since you were a teenager, giggling with your friends as you clumsily attempted and failed to light up the stick, the match pinched between your fingertips quickly burning down. The contrast between the silly memory and your far less silly reality felt jarring, to say the least.

“Here, let me,” Patrick said softly, taking the lighter from you and cupping his hand around the tip of the cigarette. You tried not to look at him too closely as you listened to the soft clicking sound of the lighter. Though he should’ve focused on the action so he didn’t burn his finger tips or the palm of his hand blocking the wind, he didn’t seem to be able to look at anything but you. The light of the flame briefly illuminated both of your faces, momentarily giving you a better look at his sad eyes.

You inhaled as the flame touched the tip, and turned your head to exhale the smoke, not wanting to blow it in the face of your partner or have to spend another second under the scrutiny of his intense eye contact.

Even as you looked away and into the garden below, you could feel Patrick’s eyes burning into you. You were sure that if you looked back over at him, you would see him looking particularly downtrodden, lips parted for words that were on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet, and eyebrows drawn together in a way that only seemed to highlight the sadness in his eyes.

Unspoken questions lingered in the air like the smoke from the cigarette dangling from your lips. Though you didn’t care for the smell, you were pretty sure you preferred the smoke to the questions.

Finally, a quiet question was spoken into the air, “Can I?” Patrick asked, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips.

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally as you pulled the cigarette away from you and passed it to your husband. Electing to watch him instead of the unchanging garden, you observed as Patrick’s lips closed over the space where yours had just been, covering the hint of a lipstick stain that you’d left on it. After a long drag, he passed the cigarette back to you, his hand brushing softly over yours once more as you did so.

This pattern continued, a heavy silence falling between the two of you as you shared the cigarette, your hands caressing the other’s softly.

“Here,” you murmured as you approached the filter. Instead of passing it back to Patrick, you brought it up to his lips, watching him intently as he breathed in the smoke.

For a moment, all you could see was his face, illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette, pupils blown with something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ravish him right there on the balcony or push him off of it.

He blew the smoke right back into your face, electing to still share the last of the cigarette with you. You wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn’t.

The two of you stood looking at each other, staring wordlessly as you waited for the other person to move a muscle or say something—anything. For a moment, you considered telling Patrick that you wanted an annulment. But then again, that wasn’t exactly the truth.

“I’m going to bed,” you broke the silence with your announcement. “I need to change out of this dress.”

You wished it were that simple. You desperately wanted to scrub the day off of you and to pinch yourself until you woke up. Surely, this couldn’t be your actual wedding night. Maybe you could wake up in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream—the manifestation of anxiety before your big day.

But, as Patrick trailed behind you in the hallway as if you would disappear if you left his sight, you were pretty sure that this was the reality. You wouldn’t wake up and find that your husband had been loyal to you.

Your return to the room was a silent one. The moment you stepped foot through the door, it felt like you were back in that horrible moment; like Patrick was moments from revealing to you that Tashi was the tip of the iceberg.

Bile rose in your throat once more. You made a beeline to the bathroom, hoping that the change of scenery might halt your thoughts altogether.

You stepped out of the bathroom with an entirely different mindset than what you had as you entered. Sure, your wedding night wasn’t at all what you expected it to be, but it didn’t mean that you couldn’t put it back on the right track. In the bathroom, you slipped on a silky nightie, what you hoped would be a reminder to both of you that this wasn’t any old regular night, but your wedding night. Though, with the day you just had, you weren’t so sure that either of you would be up for a particularly romantic night. You guessed it couldn’t hurt.

You left the bathroom as a woman on a mission, your eyes set on Patrick as you crossed the bedroom floor to get to him. Though he’d been laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had the secrets to the universe written on it, the sound of your entrance drew his attention over to you. You gently bit your lower lip and hoped that your face said ‘sexy’ rather than ‘so nervous you might be sick.’

His eyes stayed locked on you as you crawled into bed, and you hoped once more that the action of you moving towards him on your hands and knees didn’t appear as desperate as you felt on the inside.

It felt like your evening consisted of one desperate plea after another: Please don’t do this to me. Please just pretend that everything’s fine. Please don’t leave me.

He followed your lead as you trailed your hand up his arm and looked at him as seductively as you could manage before pushing him down onto the bed and straddling his lap. Distantly, you wondered how Tashi imitated things with him—if she did anything that Patrick liked more about her than you. You did your best to push that thought away, but failed miserably.

Mechanically, you ran your hands through his hair and kissed him passionately. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat and reminded yourself that it was just Patrick. Things weren’t all that different, except for the fact that he was your husband now—and that he cheated on you.

You tried once more to push that thought out of your mind as you moved your hips against his lap, but your attempts were in vain. It certainly didn’t help that as you kissed him, you tasted the cigarette you shared earlier in his breath—an unwelcome reminder of the awkward tension that lingered between the two of you after he shared the truth about his infidelity. And surely, it was just your mind, but his lips almost tasted like the chapstick of another woman.

Suddenly, all you could think about was Tashi with your husband. Him and Tashi in your bedroom, or in a hotel room, or on your couch. Did she do anything special that drove him crazy? What did she have that you didn’t?

Your body said one thing, but your brain said something completely different. You did your best to power through the thoughts of your husband being with another woman, but you were beginning to realize that when it came to cheating, you weren’t all that tough. You bit down on Patrick’s lip in what you hoped would be a light nibble, but the taste of iron quickly filled your mouth.

You slowed down your movements as your thoughts sped up before you gave up entirely. You supposed it was a classic case of mind over matter, and your mind was not nearly as strong as any of your physical urges.

You shifted off of Patrick far later than you should’ve, feeling like a complete and utter failure. You couldn’t even do the one thing you should’ve been able to do during your wedding night. No wonder he found solace in someone else’s body.

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

It took you rolling off of Patrick to realize that his face was damp, eyes glossy with a thin layer of tears threatening to fall. The pit in your stomach that had been steadily growing since Patrick pulled you aside to tell you something finally came to a head when you realized that your husband was crying.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable of his question.

A fresh tear rolled down his cheek, which was then followed by a few other droplets. He turned his head away from you and wiped them away quickly so you wouldn’t notice them, but the damage was already done.

You’d never seen Patrick cry before—not when you watched sad movies that left you bawling, not when the two of you watched advertisements for puppies in shelters, not even when he thought his dad might be dying. To see him shed tears over you felt particularly unsettling.

“Patrick?” you said his name softly, like he was delicate and going to break.

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he looked towards you once more, eyes now rimmed with red. “I ruined everything already. I'm so sorry.”

This was a complete wild card on top of a stack of wild cards. If someone told you that your wedding night would end with your husband telling you he cheated on you, a pathetic failed attempt at sex, then watching your partner cry for the first time in front of you, you would’ve laughed in their face.

His crying continued, becoming slightly more intense as sorrow racked through his body. You’d never been in a situation like this before, so you were completely unsure of what to do.

With all prior restraint to show him physical affection gone, you awkwardly slotted your arms around your husband. He automatically leaned into you, burying his face in your shoulder as he continued to shed quiet tears. Your shoulder quickly grew damp as you threaded your fingers through his curls, the repetitive petting being just as soothing for you as it was for him.

Despite it all, you still felt a general sense of nothing at all. You were beginning to grow concerned, knowing that deep down there were certainly emotions that weren’t ready to approach the surface. You worried about what it might look like once those feelings finally came out, but that was the least of your worries when it came to your weeping husband.

Patrick continued to cry quietly, the only sound in the room being his soft, occasional sniffles. You couldn’t even place how you felt or how long you sat there stone faced as you cradled your husband.

Eventually, the tears on your shoulder dried and the intervals between sniffles grew further and further. Soon, the soft sounds of weeping turned into the long and deep breaths of rest. Between you playing with his hair and holding him, he must’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t really blame him—given your eventful day, your all-nighter the previous day, and the energy it took for him to cry.

You gently laid Patrick back down on his side of the bed, pulling a blanket over his chest and pushing back the hair on his forehead to press a kiss to him. He stirred slightly against the forehead kiss, but didn’t seem to wake up all the way. Even when your feelings were complicated towards the man, you couldn’t help being affectionate towards him. In some ways, you felt like you needed that affection just as much as he did.

You let out a long sigh as the reality of everything truly began to set in, and you no longer had to be strong for your weeping partner. You couldn’t wrap your head around the sight of Patrick crying for the first time, or the fact that he cheated on you. You flicked off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in your otherwise darkened bedroom.

You rolled over in bed and laid on your back, setting your hands on your stomach and staring up at the ceiling. You traced your eyes over the pattern of the ceiling, though it was dark and not all that clear. You wondered if you looked at it long enough, if you’d be able to make some sense out of it. You glanced over at Patrick and wondered the same thing.

You just couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on you. You’d always been under the impression that he was just as happy in your relationship as you were. Despite his promiscuous past, he never seemed like the type of person to not be loyal to you.

You noticed a teardrop trail down his cheek in his sleep, and you gently thumbed it away. The small movement turned into you tracing a line down his nose and over his lips, then over his eyebrows and back down through the few freckles that dotted his face. Maybe if you watched him long enough, if you learned every detail of his face, someone would reveal to you why he’d done something so illogical and cruel.

You worried about how the two of you could move forward from something like this. Though Patrick always approached the topic of infidelity with a dismissive attitude, cheating had always been a deal breaker for you in your past relationships. It shattered your trust in a way that was so foundational, you couldn’t fathom a world where your relationship with Patrick stayed exactly the same after this.

Part of you knew already that moving forward, you’d constantly wonder if he was genuinely working late or if he was having an affair, or if his eye was wandering at events despite you standing by his side. And that was just trust when it came to relationships—obviously his lie was far deeper than just that. Now, you knew that Patrick had the capacity to hold a secret that massive from you, then share it at the worst possible time.

In fact, his timing felt so terrible that you momentarily wondered if it was some sort of power play. Was Patrick trying to remind you that you weren’t equals in this partnership? Was he trying to manipulate you by only sharing this information to you after you were married to him and couldn’t easily call everything off?

Your stomach turned at the possibility that Patrick wasn’t really who he said he was, and that you’d been baited and switched. You recalled the first time you met Patrick’s family, how he switched on a dime and became far more calculated and cruel to them than you’d ever seen him be with you. Was that the realest version of your husband, and the person he was with you just a façade? Was this some sort of long game he was playing with his family to piss a few people off? Did Patrick even love you?

For the first time in your relationship, you felt like you didn’t know who you were sleeping next to. Surely, this couldn’t be the same Patrick who you set out to have a quick hook up with, and ended up talking to him for hours. It couldn’t be the same Patrick who held you tight at night and gave you kisses every morning in your kitchen. The same Patrick from your vows a few hours ago, whose hands shook as he read from notecards and declared his love for you.

You frowned as you looked over Patrick once more. You resented how he was able to sleep so peacefully after inflicting such hurt on you. Did he even understand how destroyed you were? You couldn’t see yourself sleeping through the night in the foreseeable future, your head too filled with questions about your relationship and questions about his relationship with her. Would they continue the affair? Would they still work together after this, leaving you to wonder for the rest of your life if they were still going behind your back?

You desperately wished the thoughts would stop, but they kept coming, punctuated by the sounds of Patrick’s soft snores behind you.

By the time the sun began to peek through the blinds, your hand was on Patrick’s face once again. You wondered how it was possible for him to hurt someone he loved as much as he loved you, if his definition of love was so skewed by a lifetime of abuse labeled as love from his parents, and siblings who used cruelty as a form of affection.

Maybe you should’ve listened to the warnings everyone gave you, from your parents who warned that your husband and his family may be more than you bargained for, from his sisters who never seemed to be able to fully wrap their head around Patrick committing to someone, let alone you. Maybe you should’ve even listened to Tashi’s coded warning about his inability to commit and stay loyal. It seemed like everyone saw the fate of your relationship coming except you.

With the early morning light illuminating the room, things felt a little clearer for you. Beneath the numbness that protected you the previous night was a more painful undercurrent of hurt that was already beginning to eat away at you.

For the past several years of your life, you hadn’t had to deal with any painful feelings on your own. Patrick was always there beside you to hold you tight and reassure you that everything would be okay. As you laid next to him, you realized that despite all the pain he’d inflicted on you, all you really wanted was to be held by him.

Knowing that he was sleeping peacefully beside you, you opted to hold him, draping your body over his and pulling yourself as close as you could manage to him. You leaned your ear against his back, taking in the warmth he gave you and listening to his heart beat. As the two of your breaths and heartbeats began to match the other’s pace, you lamented that even now, your hearts beat as one.

For the first time that evening, your eye prickled with the threat of tears.

You lost track of how long you held your husband, but it was long enough to notice the pattern of his breath changing. You’d woken up beside him enough times to recognize that he was clearly awake, yet he made no other indication to you that he was awake. He wanted you to hold him. You wondered if he thought this might be the last time you ever do that for him. You wondered if it was the last time you’d ever do that for him.

The two of you pretended to be asleep despite the fact that you were both obviously awake, but no one commented on anything. After your arms began to grow numb, you turned your back to Patrick, hoping that he would return the favor and give you what you really wanted. You were pleased to find that he just as eagerly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and breathing quietly in your ear.

The two of you sat in complete silence, pretending you didn’t know what the other person was doing. Somehow, it felt like that was about to become a recurring theme in your relationship.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #challengers x reader #challengers fic #patrick zweig smut #art donalson x reader #reader insert #josh o'connor x reader #josh o'connor #patrick zweig angst

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thethreeeyed-raven · 2 years ago

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a love which cannot be

navigation | warnings : slight suggestiveness, time skips, jealous bran, father being arsehole, robb seems like an ass, cringey description of bran lmao, i just fucking love brans nose oml, lmk if there’s more | a/n : sorry if you guys don’t like it i just get ideas all of the time lmao, will be writing a part two :) | tags : @knight-of-flowerss | bran stark playlist

The journey to Winterfell was long and excruciating. The land you came from was nothing like Winterfell. Yours was filled with exotic animals, it rained nearly almost everyday, and the heat was so hot you could melt.

Maybe Winterfell would be a nice change, perhaps this Robb Stark man would be a good husband to you, and not beat you or be disloyal as you knew some women's husbands to be.

Your father wanted you to marry the heir to Winterfell, thinking it would strengthen your connections with the Starks.

Robb was seven years older than you. You only being 14 and him 21.

"Father, are we nearly there yet?" You asked nervously. In truth, you did not want to marry this Robb Stark, you wanted to marry someone of your own age, someone of your own choosing.

"Yes, nearly. Just another day." Your father answered in a coarse voice.

You had finally arrived in Winterfell. The Starks were all lined up. There was one that stood out from them all. You assumed he was the bastard, Jon Snow. He looked nothing like Lady Stark. He had dark brown curls, almost black and his eyes were the exact same too. He looked like he tried hard to earn a place beside his half-siblings.

Your father and Ned Stark gave a curt nod to each other, they weren't as close as Ned and King Robert.

"Lord Y/L/N." Ned started, your father replying with "Lord Stark."

As they conversated, you eyed the Stark children. The one you were betrothed to, Robb Stark, had brown curly hair and tried to look like he had authority. Then there was Sansa, with fiery red hair, icy blue eyes and a kind smile graced her soft pink lips. There was Arya, her hair was wild and her clothes were all over the place. Rickon was the youngest, with golden hair and eyes that twinned Sansa's. Lastly, your eyes travelled to...wait...that was Bran Stark?!

Seven hells, he's gorgeous...

His hair was a fair shade of brown, adorned with light curls. His eyes were dark chocolate, you could stare into forever, perhaps you could find the universe in them if you gazed long enough. His lips were a cherry red, and his cheeks sprinkled with light freckles.

Oh gods, his nose is so big...

"Y/n." Your father had been calling your name for the past five minutes. "Come and say hello."

Bran had noticed your intense gaping at him, so he gave you a good observation too. A light blush appeared across his cheeks when he realised everyone had caught you both, so he ducked his head down, but his eyes never left your figure.

The Starks of Winterfell held a feast for you and your families arrival.

The air in the room was getting too stuffy, so you left your seat next to your mother and went outside.

You walked farther away and found yourself in the training grounds, finding Jon teaching Bran a few things about swords.

"You have to hold it like this with a tight grip but not too tight-"

"Why aren't you inside with everyone else?"

They both shot round not expecting you to be there.

Bran gulped, looking at Jon, then diverting his eyes to the ground.

"Why aren't you mi'lady/mi'lord?" Jon knew Bran wouldn't speak to you until after he got over the shock of your existence.

"I don't like it in there." It felt a little bit difficult trying to make conversation with them as they were awkward people. "Also it's a little bit boring, sick of hearing about marriages."

Bran let out a little huff of amusement, he had grown jealous over Robb.

You had been staying in Winterfell and your relationship with the Stark children had grown.

You and Robb were still very distant with each other, both of you always doing your own thing. You were fine with it, as you were closer to the other other Stark boys, especially one in particular.

"Bran, stop."

Both of you were sat under a tree, eating fruit you had both picked. He had forbidden himself from climbing ever since he fell out of that tower and fell into a coma for a few months.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're trying to hold my hand." You could feel his little finger brushing against your own on top of the fur you were sat on.

You watched as he jutted his bottom lip out of annoyance, he really, really wanted to hold your hand but didn't know how to ask.

Sighing, you took his hand into yours, relishing in the warmth it provided you.

Bran rested his head against your shoulder, his breath tickling your ear. "I wish I could hold your hand all the time."

It was like time stopped. Everything was perfect, you and bran together, but then you had realised that you hadn't been trying to stop your betrothal to Robb at all, you had Bran right beside you and you weren't snatching him up like you could've done.

"I'm going to meet you in your room tonight."

"Bran, Bran open the door." It was the middle of the night, and you kept your word, making your way to his room once you knew everyone was asleep.

You heard the handle rattle and the door opened to reveal a very tired Bran who was barely awake.

"Y/n?" He was very much awake now once he realised you were still in your night clothes. "Come on it must be freezing out there." Bran grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside, some of the candles and the fire was still lit. Was he waiting for you?

"I didn't think you'd actually come, you did take a long time." He averted his eyes, too overwhelmed to look into yours.

"I had to wait 'till midnight, my parents notice everything." You licked your lips before continuing. "My mother specially, she has noticed that we have been spending lots of time together."

Gods, please say our time doesn't have to end, Bran thought.

"My mother will mention it to my father." You took his hands in yours, noticing how clammy they were. "I shall not be separated from you, I am yours and you are mine."

"...I am yours?"

"And you are mine my love, no matter who I marry, whether it is a Dornish man, or a Northern man, you will always be the one to hold my heart."

"You will always hold my heart, no one can ever compare to you."

None of you could hold back anymore. You smashed your lips together, letting your hands roam wherever they wanted.

You opened your mouth and his tongue slid in. His hands caressed your face as yours rested on his chest.

"I don't want to go too far." Bran said, his eyes glazed like he just drunk two cups of wine.

"We won't."

In the morning before everyone woke, you snuck away, leaving Bran to sleep soundly for a few more hours, not noticing the bruise forming on your neck.

Your maids were currently dressing you, choosing what shoes you should wear, how to have your hair styled etc when your mother came in.

"Ah, there you are, your father requests your presence." She said as she crossed her hands in front of her.

"What does he want to talk with me about?" You said, turning towards her once the maids had finished.

"He-what's that?" Your mother pointed to a spot on your neck

What?

You looked down to where she was pointing, just to see a red bruise which had formed. The colour in your face drained.

"Mother-" She took you by the arm. "Come with me now, your father will want to know who did this.

Your father was extremely angry when your mother had taken you to him. He was so angry in fact, that he startled the Starks that were enjoying their peaceful morning with their delicious breakfast.

Ned quickly stood, trying to calm your father.

"My lord, I assure you we will find out which one of our children did this." His wife, Lady Catelyn tried to reassure him.

"You best do, and whoever it is, see they are punished." Your father gave a disgusted look to the Stark children and stormed out of the hall, leaving you and your mother there.

"Come, child." Your mother beckoned you away.

You gave one last look towards the Starks, holding eye contact with Bran. You mouthed 'I'm sorry' as you were gently pushed through the doors.

Catelyn paced back and forth as she looked at her children, Ned stood in the corner letting his wife do the talking.

It couldn't have been Sansa and Arya, they were with me last night, She thought.

"If I will, Mother, I was with Father last night." Robb decided to break the awkward silence. "And Jon was in the blacksmith's."

Catelyn finally stopped her pacing and turned to look at Bran who kept avoiding everyone's eyes and biting his nails.

Ned lifted himself from the wall and stood next to Catelyn. "Son,"

Bran squeezed his eyes shut feeling the pressure of everyone's gaze. "We didn't do anything!"

Ned knelt to his son's height and placed his hands on his shoulder. "Son, what happened? Tell the truth and tell it true."

Bran sighed, defeated. "All we did was kiss."

"Bran, do you realise what you've done? This could greatly affect Y/n's betrothal to Robb!" Catelyn was always the more harsher parent when it came to disciplining her children.

"Good! I hope it does!" Bran yelled back. In other instances, Bran would never talk back to his mother.

Before she could respond, a knight came through the door. "The Lord Y/L/N requests your presence."

Ned sighed and turned back to Bran. "You're a good lad Bran, we just have to hope no harsh punishment will be carried out for this."

Your father had been informed of the situation, and yet he was still infuriated.

"We are never coming back to this place again, you should teach your son some respect." That was the last thing your father said to Eddard Stark.

And it would be years before you saw Brandon Stark again.

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #bran stark #bran stark x reader #bran stark imagine #isaac hempstead wright x reader #isaac hempstead wright

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gwandas · 4 months ago

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Okay but what are the top 5 bullet points for hating MCU Spiderman? His arc? The actor? Accuracy?

You probably forgot you sent me this but I DIDN'T. This is a very serious question to be asking me and thus this is probably much longer than you initially bargained for <3

His friend group is ass. MCU MJ and Ned exist to be his yes men, they always help him, they always get along, it sucks and it's boring. People always dog on the Raimi movies because the Peter-MJ-Harry triangle is toxic but honestly that's nothing compared to the drama the original Peter-Gwen-MJ-Harry-Flash had going on. That shit would kill an MCU stan they were SO messy... and that was what made it fun and juicy. Peter's complex interpersonal relationships are so so crucial to Spider-Man. One of the reasons he became so popular is because the Peter Parker part of his story was just as interesting as the Spider-Man part, people loved his personal problems! That's why his supporting cast are just as well known by even casual fans.

Stole too many plot points and personality traits from Miles Morales. For example, see point no. 1, MCU Ned Leeds is literally just Ganke (Miles' best friend) that they slapped a Ned Leeds nametag onto.

Tony Stark and MCU Peter's desperation to be an Avenger. I actually cannot stand the desperation it's pathetic and unbecoming. Comic Peter Parker would tell MCU Tony Stark to go fuck himself on the regular if he pulled the stuff he does in the movies. Spider-Man is also not even close to as fun when he has access to all the toys and funds he could want. Also the first time he meets the Avengers in the comics they literally stalk him trying to get him to join and he keeps going "LEAVE ME ALONE" so I think it's funny MCU Peter is so desperate to be one

The personality could not be worse. One of my favorite things about Peter is that he's a reluctant hero. He wants to do the right thing, use his powers for good, but it always comes at a cost to his personal life. The constant push and pull and deliberate decision to be a good person when he doesn't want to... I love that about him. There are always hard choices in a good Spider-Man story. I once saw a movie critic that said "MCU finally gets Spider-Man right. He's a happy go lucky guy that loves being a superhero." Literally every word of that sentence is incorrect. People think that because comics are so vast, with different authors and different ways they're written that you can do whatever you want in the movie and it's fine... NO. There can be some variance, sure, but Peter has always had a distinct personality. Sure sure sure you can tweak things here and there, I'm not saying Peter always has to be portrayed as a selfish asshole who's always broke and never happy (because obviously there are times in the comics when he isn't those things) but you can't change EVERYTHING at once. Making him a guy that loves being a superhero and has zero personal life problems (aside from ??? wanting to vacation in europe and get with the girl he likes)... literally destroys everything interesting about the character.

Less about him and more about the conversation around him, my biggest pet peeve used to be people that would go "well this is the third reboot, of COURSE he's different." well NO because the MCU chose to adapt Peter Parker and Peter Parker has a specific personality and storyline. "Of course they changed the storyline" first of all they had a million options and could've just inserted an adult Peter into the MCU if they didn't want to do his origin story, but his origin story is important... I honestly think the decision to skip over it is what caused the terrible writing because without that origin you've removed all his motivations and drive. You can't just say hey we'll use Peter Parker but in order to differentiate ourselves we'll make him unrecognizable... just use a different character at that point... LIKE MILES which is what SO many people said before Homecoming came out.

Bonus: My favorite hate posts I found on my blog from like 2019 or whatever

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/187539416484/beerecordings-portrayal-of-aunt-may-really-tells

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/188036695984

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/187480534389

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/187177201644

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/187158420054

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/187154929204

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/187153389594/mcu-had-the-audacity-to-have-a-grown-women-force

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/187152145584/peter-parker-is-leaving-the-mcu-i-didnt-know-he

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/186857669531/wlwintersoldier-here-is-my-argument-on-why-tony

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/186839380098

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/186835788169/wow-i-sure-do-love-peter-parker-who-made-his-mark

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/186758593029

https://gwandas.tumblr.com/post/186450361464/spidermanwlw-me-and-the-girls-when-a-new-mcu

#answered #sorry kate you opened pandora's box with this one #like i said y'all have not seen REAL haterism from me #back in 2019 i was wishing death on a minor #<- i'm talking about mcu peter here to be clear i was NOT sending real people death threats #mcu spiderman

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kaija-rayne-author · 1 month ago

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9th review in series of Dragon Age Veilguard

70 hours in, 68 actual playtime.

I'm not an asshole disclaimer, if you've read it you can skip to the cut.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I'm on media blackout while I play this, so I'm only getting second-hand info on how awful it is right now in the DA Fandom. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though, every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

Spoilers for Dragon Age Veilguard

Section 8 here.

Did I say I didn't hate this game? I lied. I hate it so much it has become a vendetta just to finish it.

With three long games, 14 years of history, so much Lore there really never feels an end to it, 5 books. 6 comics, two or more coffee table books and probably stuff I don't know about to use for inspiration... this game is terrible.

They've stripped it down to the most banal, most puerile, most boring concepts they could possibly find in all of that to use in this travesty of a role playing game.

I'll finish it so I can see just how bad it is and how exactly they'll fuck over Solas some more. And here I was feeling comfy that since Weekes loves Solas that they wouldn't utterly fuck him over?

Whoooo boy, was I wrong. I wanted memories of his time before he woke up in Inquisition. I did not want memories of every cruel thing he'd ever been forced to do to protect tens of thousands of innocents. War is horrible. Those leading wars, regardless of the justified reasons (or not) get their hands bloody. They have to make hard decisions that cost pieces of their souls because no one else will.

I wanted memories of what Arlathan and Elvhen culture was like before everything went went to hell. What did we get? Memories painting Solas as the worst possible version of himself.

And the way they discuss and treat the topic of Mythal... I wonder if it's nice and cozy so far up Mythal's arsehole?

It's revolting when you know everything FleMythal has done, and if you read between the lines of all the lore about Arlathan era Mythal.

I've been told that the third act is the best. Though how anyone even gets to the third act is beyond me. Other than sheer cussedness and a desire to escape politics and the side effects of a pulmonary embolism. Cause that's the only way I've gotten this far.

Did I remember to say that they apparently forgot what aggro was and how that's supposed to work with a multi-player team? My rogue is not a tank. (Nor a rogue because rogues pick fucking locks.) Yet for some reason, he always has aggro. Especially the bigger and harder the enemy is to beat.

Aggro, in case you're reading my ramblings and don't know, stands for aggression/attention of whatever your team is fighting. Whoever did the most damage last is the one who should have aggro. In any decent video game, that's the tank, who is built to take it. They're supposed to keep the bad guys attention so the archers and mages can get it from behind/beside.

But since your side characters don't get skill points at the same rate your player characters do, (fantastic idea that, what utter dipshit came up with that?) Your character, whether they're a DPS or not, always has fucking Aggro.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to fight as a Legolas wannabe when you have several tons of dragon crashing into you because you do the most damage because of an outright shitty levelling system?

I now get to go fight another fucking dragon. That's gonna be fun. (It's my third today) and that'll have me into act 3.

Oh, and the much advertised 'dragon slayer' is a good character, but they're shit at actually killing dragons. I never, ever, thought I would miss Cassandra Inquisition. Because I utterly loathe her as a character, but I miss having competently designed dragon fighters in a game with so many fucking dragons to fight.

...

Make that two dragons.

Section 10.1 here.

#dragon age veilguard #veilguard #da veilguard #dragonage #solas #dragon age veilguard review #veilguard spoilers.

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wonuwrites · 6 months ago

Text

"A House In Nebraska" ot13 Song Reaction

Before we start: Warning: this song is heavy and talks about really heavy topics and even mentions about Suicidal thoughts. Personally, I, @wonuwrites don't like writing about suicide or suicidal thoughts because it is a very triggering subject for so many people (myself included.) I will mention the suicide part in this reaction. Having said that, PLEASE do not read this reaction if it will affect you in a negative way. You are WAY more important than a fanfiction on this silly website. if you ever need to talk, please message me.

Just wanted to put this warning before we started because I felt it was important.

requested from this anon x

Warning/author's note : This will be a lot more heavier than things I usually write. (pls send me pet pictures or fluffy wonwoo drabbles) This will be post-apocalyptic themed with hints of the song "A House In Nebraska" by Ethel Cain. There will be talks of suicide like I mentioned above, also death, dread, trauma, and so many other things. I will write happier drabbles and things after this so please once again if this is too heavy please skip. I love you all and want everyone to be safe. I know I say this often but please if you are a minor- DO NOT INTERACT. Also this took so long for me to write because it was rough to write. I had to make sure I was mentally okay <3

Just like all my song preferences before: members parts will be in order of the song lyrics.

Let the angst begin <3

Scene:

Everything was normal for a year until some governments were a little bored and decided to do experiments on their inmates of the respected countries. Some of these experiments went a little haywire and caused a pandemic. The pandemic caused a very contagious disease that made 2020's COVID-19 look like child's play. The disease made people lose their minds and the only way to cure it was to put them down. Many people compared it to be a modern day zombie apocalypse except for zombies it was homicidal psychopaths. When the pandemic first happened, you and your boyfriend (member of Seventeen) took refuge in a House in Nebraska, USA. It was secluded and you both thought nobody would find you and harm you. Happy endings don't always happen though. After many days of skipped meals and sleepless nights, the worst happened. You watched the love of your life walk out the door to get some food from the garden when a stray homicidal was walking down the road. Before he could grab a gun to kill the homicidal, the Homicidal shouted alerting more Homicidal's to come. There you watched the love of your life try to defend you both before getting infected. It was then when you had to defend yourself from the Homcidal's and even the love of your life. After shooting the only person who knew you for you, these were the memories that would haunt you until your dying breath.

Actual Members Reactions Now~

⌂ DK: "Labored breaths and bed sores, sing it to me all day long, when the aching 'Sound of Silence,' used to be our favorite song."

It had been no more than two awful weeks since you had to kill Seokmin. The memory of the look in his eyes when he realized he was infected scared you. It haunted you. He slid you the gun and just whispered "I love you, (Y/N)." You had to do it but it killed you to do so. Ever since, you just laid on the once shared dirty mattress. At this point you had been just laying down and getting bed sores due to lack of activity but in all honesty, you just wanted to return to the love of your life. You didn't want to live without him any longer. You felt your breath getting labored and you closed your eyes praying that it was your time to go. As if it were a miracle, you heard faintly the love of your life singing "sound of silence" which used to be your favorite song due to the memes. You choked back a sob before whispering, "I'm coming home Seokmin, I am so sorry."

⌂ Mingyu: "You and me against the world, you were my man and I your girl."

You stared down at your whole world who starred back up at you with blood dripping down his chin. He was still warm but he was gone. You looked around and saw a lot of other Homicidal's scattered across the gravel driveway. You didn't have one clear thought as you realized what you had to do. The one person who promised to be with you until the end of time was shot because of you. You both swore that if one of you got infected, you would shoot one or the other no matter what. However, with the seclusion of the house in Nebraska you both thought that it just would not happen and things would eventually be better. Life without Mingyu now though, it wouldn't be better even if this pandemic ended. So you did what you had to do. You dragged Mingyu into the house and drenched both you and his body in gasoline. You cried while doing so because the thought of dying was horrifying, however living was just not an answer as well. You took a deep breath before pressing a kiss onto Mingyu's forehead. You held onto him as you flicked the lighter and set both of you ablaze. The world may have won this battle, however you knew that you would both find each other in every lifetime that came.

⌂ Dino: "And I still call home that house in Nebraska, where we found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor."

Once the pandemic hit Korea, you both ran refuge to America because there were more places to be secluded. Chan always joked that Nebraska was a myth because "nobody lives there" until that's where you found home. A worn out house that looked like it had been vacant since 1958. There wasn't much to it but a dirty mattress on the second floor. Any fear of germs vacated as it seemed better than a hardwood floor. The first night you spent on that dirty mattress, Dino and you had torn up some of your own shirts to use as a sheet and held each other for comfort. You swore that no matter what you would be together.

⌂ Woozi: "Where you told me even if we died tonight, that I'd die yours."

Jihoon and you made a promise that you would be together throughout the whole pandemic. You both would live together or you both would die together. After surviving for months, living seemed so much brighter. You both were a light to each other during this dark time. When you saw Jihoon get bit, you felt like your world shattered. He tossed the gun at you and looked up at you begging you to shoot him. You ended up shooting the rest of the homicidals but left the love of your life for last. "Y/N, kill me." You heard him beg. He wasn't infected quite yet but the color in his eyes was starting to change. It was a matter of time before he was like the homicidals. So you did what you promised him. You sat in front of him and put your head against his temple. He tried to push you off when he realized you were planning on shooting both of you at the same time. He wanted you to live but you still fired the shot killing him and injuring you. You ended up passing from lack of blood next to the love of your life. You both died together and as each others persons. Just like you promised.

⌂ Joshua: "Your mama calls me sometimes to see if I'm doing well and I lie to her."

About a year after shooting Jisoo, the pandemic had been lifted. You left the house in Nebraska and tried to live life the way you had before meeting Jisoo, before the pandemic and it was hard. It was so fucking hard. Especially since most of his family had survived. His mother would call you once a month once the pandemic was over even though she knew what you did. When you saw her name on your phone, guilt always ate you. She told you she didn't blame you and you shouldn't do the same thing however it was easier said than done. Whenever she asked how you were doing, you always gave her little white lies in hopes that she would believe you and hope that someday it would be true.

⌂ Vernon: "And I say I'm doing fine when really I'd kill myself to hold you one more time."

After Hansol passed, you left the house in Nebraska after setting him on fire. The only thing you had left of him was a plaid shirt that he wore often. You wore it every day and left with it on. You found a camp of other survivors and they welcomed you in with open arms. Nobody knew what you did but they knew you saw some heavy things. Someone named San was at the camp as well and wanted to know why you didn't smile. He would ask you how you were doing and your answer was always the same. "I'm fine." It was a safe answer and one San realized would be the only thing you would give. You thought San was nice however, your heart was burnt in Nebraska along with Hansol. Each day that passed, you wanted to kill yourself so you could be with your other half. Living without Hansol was the worst pain and nobody could ever understand.

⌂ Seungkwan: "And it hurts to miss you but it's worse to know that I'm the reason you won't come home."

You didn't know what hurt more. Missing Seungkwan being around physically or feeling remorse for killing him. When he took his last breath, you knew it was what you had to do but it didn't make the pain any more bearable. Seungkwan was your missing piece. He was the ying to your yang. The Bonnie to you Clyde. He was everything and him not being there was simply awful. You spent so many hours a day crying and just craving him to hold you just one more time. However you knew that he couldn't come back. You just prayed he would be waiting for you.

⌂ S. Coups: "You know, I still wait at the edge of town praying straight to God that maybe you'll come back around."

Killing Seungcheol drove you mad. You knew he was gone but you still would look out the window and walk to edge of town hoping to see him running home to you. Maybe him being infected was just a bad dream and he was coming to your makeshift home with some much needed supplies. Maybe he was still alive and you would see him again soon. One night when you made your way to the edge of town you saw a being in the distance. He looked so much like Seungcheol. Your heart started beating faster than ever as you started running toward 'Seungcheol.' As soon as you made it to them, you realized it was a scarecrow that was just propped up. You fell to your knees and started wailing out Seungcheol's name. You sobbed until you couldn't handle it anymore and just laid down and prayed to God that you could be reunited with your one true love once again. It took a few hours but soon your last breath was taken laying right next to the scarecrow.

⌂ Wonwoo: "I cry everyday, and the bottles make it worse 'cause you were the only one I was scared to tell I hurt."

You were no stranger to Jack Daniels and mental breakdowns prior to meeting Wonwoo all those years ago. You struggled with mental health and the only one who knew how deep your mental health struggles and alcohol uses was Wonwoo. So when you shot him with his own gun you ran back to what you knew best. Your addictions. You used to be afraid to confess when you missed alcohol to him but with him you ended up being a year sober. However, the familiar taste of whiskey burning the back of your throat numbed the regret and remorse. You knew he would've shook his head at your actions but at the same time, who could blame you?

⌂ Minghao: "I thought you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess."

Once the pandemic hit, it was hard to see things as beautiful. However, when you met Minghao at a camp before you made yourself home in that house in Nebraska, you thought he was so beautiful. His giggles that ended up haunting your every thoughts, the soft stare he'd give you, the way his arms would wrap around you when life got too scary. It was all so beautiful. One of the main regrets you had was that you didn't realize how much you loved this beautiful man until it was too late. When he was gone, dullness took over again and it was hard to find anything beautiful.

⌂ Hoshi: "And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night."

Delusions started to eat you alive, you ended up just thinking Soonyoung left you instead of you murdering him. You thought it was just a scary nightmare and he was just getting supplies for you both to survive. So you waited for him. You stayed up staring at the door like a stranded puppy waiting for their owner to come home from a silly 9-5. You lost track of the days and couldn't remember the last time you ate. However, you heard a noise from the outside and all you could think of was Soonyoung. You opened the door and ran to the tall figure. You didn't realize it was a homicidal until you felt venom run through your veins. By then it was too late and you were one of them.

⌂ Jun: "But God, I just hope you're doing fine out there, I just pray that you're alright."

Out of all the members, Jun actually survived. You shot the dirt next to him and he played 'dead.' He heard your screams of heartbreak and he felt so horrible. However, he knew the homicidal's came for a reason and he had just found a cure for a bite. However, there was not enough food for both you and him so he hid the fact that there was a cure from you. Instead, he decided to "die" and leave the food and everything for you in that house. After you did a shallow grave for him, he crawled out of the grave and made his way to a camp. He oathed if he could find more supplies he would come back for you. However, after he found more supplies and food he came back to an empty house. There was no sign of you and it broke him. He blamed himself. He should have told you what he discovered. He would spend every moment until his last breath trying to figure out what happened and where you went.

⌂ Jeonghan: "And I feel so alone out here and I feel so alone without you."

Prior to Jeonghan, you considered yourself super independent. You could take care of yourself because that was all you had known how to do. However, once you met Jeonghan, you became codependent. As much as you could, you turned your brain off because he always had a plan. You always were together so when he passed, you felt so alone. You tried your best to find who you were before Jeonghan came into your life but it was practically impossible. Everytime you thought about moving on, you felt a piece of you die. One night when it was raining, you couldn't handle laying down on a dirty mattress by yourself anymore so you went to his grave and laid next to it. You felt insane as you started to put soil on you to feel closer to him but believe it or not you felt him there. You closed your eyes as rain droplets continued to splatter across your face and took your last breath. You couldn't wait to be reunited with Jeonghan.

holy shit it's finally finished. I hope you enjoyed this. Sorry it was so heavy. fluffy shit is coming <3

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soso-chan126 · 2 years ago

Text

Ahkmenrah x fem! reader "Heimat"

I'm incredibly bored and watched some Night at the museum. Than it just happened that I thought a little bit (is indeed a rare process) and well I thought I could write a little oneshot for the pretty pharao. I couldn't help myself soo yeah. Btw the reader is in this oneshot from the time of the 20th century and to be more specific (is it written that way? idk well if not I am counting on all of you that you're going to tell me if it's right or not) the reader is from the time of the second world war and well there may be some topics that can trigger people. So I will put a trigger warning at the beginning. But well maybe not I'm not sure what I will include and so on and I also don't know how I make the reader so yeah... I will just go with the flow and write for my hearts content (not sure if I can put it that way). So before the beginning I write a quick definition for the word "Heimat". Ouhh and my little to long author notes are those little mini textes.

Heimat (german): "a place, where someone was born and grew up or is there long enough to have a feeling of being at home (is mostly a word for a place (and sometimes someone) that (or who) someone has a very special connection to)

translated out of the "Duden" can't say it's the right translation to the definition but well if someone of you has a better definition that's in english I'll gladly swap that with this one if you don't mind.

Well let's go then! ahh... btw I write about a female reader so yeah... if you want another one with gender neutral or a male reader ask right away and then I'll write it as soon as I can! I am not a native speaker so well it certainly has some errors and I'll correct them if you tell me where some are. Thanks and let's go!

TW: mentions of the holocaust, death, national socialists and some of the other stuff about the 2nd ww and also swearing but only lightly and once if I'm not mistaken

You have been warned. Reading on your own... I forgot the word. Eh... something like concequences ig but I'm not sure. It's way to late for writing tbh. And if you don't want to read the stuff with the 2nd ww then just skip the background. I will mark it for you guys.

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

Everyday I remember my cruel death. I am nothing but a little wax figurine that just resembles my once very much alive self but I still have her memorys. Even though I am only made out of wax and don't even have a real brain. She was a hero for a lot of people even though she was only a little artist that wasn't much known. She lived in nazi germany so she knew what was going on in germany. Even more because one of her friends worked for the terrifying camps. He told her a lot of things proudly and most of them weren't allowed to be told to zivilian people like herself. She took advantage of the knowledge and used it for her art. She showed the terrors of the war of the holocaust of everything.

She also started to try to change the world for the better and so she came into the view of the regime and their corrupted forces. She was able to trick them but well her luck ran out after she helped a spy of the united states. The spy learned a lot of things from her that were cultural differences between the two countries. With her help he was able to keep hidden. To his luck he looked also like a "typical german" probably had ancestors that were german people. However that was a reason why spys of the allies were basically searching for her so that she can also help them. She was bad at denying the need for help of other people. The spys that resided in her humble home also found out that she hid two jewish families in her house.

Europe and germany were her so called "Heimat" she looked up to Stefan Zweig who also saw europe as his "Heimat" or his home. But well his works were forbidden in germany thanks to the national socialists. She was enraged to find out that her favourite author isn't allowed in her home. But she couldn't give a single shit. She still had the books of him that she once bought. She hid them well. They always tried to find something so that they could arrest and torture her. Well she wasn't allowed to draw anymore and that was a problem but she never stopped with helping others out.

Then someday one of her neighbours told her off to the ss. They came into her home and found everything the spy who resided with the young woman and also the jewish families, the forbidden books and her forbidden art studio. Also the books of different languages such as english, french, japanese, italian, spanish and much more. She learned them all and can speak some of them fluently while the others were a little rusty but good enough to communicate decently. They caught her and they also punished her. And their punishment was the reason for her death. She was a strong woman who helped as much people as she could by sending them off to other countries or hiding them and teaching them. The spy was also tortured and died right next her when a bomb of the english army fell onto the building they were in. He apologized to her but she told him that it wasn't his fault and that she decided for herself to walk on this path that was hidden in the darkness without any sight of light. She wanted to bring light into her home, her "Heimat". But she lost it and she pobably never gets it back. Well that's what her dying self thought but that wasn't exactly true.

~End of backstory~

She came back to life and well she is now my humble self who is a good friend of hystorical people like Sacagawea, Theodore Roosevelt and others. My personal favourite of them all is Ahkmenrah. He is a pharao of egypt who is dead like most of us. Makes sense right? And well he kind of is more to me. I certainly don't know what I am for him but he is more than a friend. I think it's enough to say that I have kind of a crush on the handsome egyptian man. Well okay it's a big crush to be honest.

Everytime when I have those nightmares about my death he's there to help me. I'm very thankful to have him. Even though I'm quite sad that I don't know about his feelings for me.

Well my little thoughts about my past and current situation were interrupted by hand that waved in front of my face. I blinked twice and mumbled a little "Wa?", that made him chuckle. "You were very deep into your thoughts today. Is something troubling you?", he asked me somewhat amused but also concerned. I just stared into his eyes and shook my head indicating a "no". He just sighs and asked if I could tell him about some stories that I read. He asked for some fairy tales. So I told him some. Mostly the famous ones like "Snow white", "Rapunzel", "The beauty and the beast" and also "Sleeping Beauty".

At some point he laid down and rested his head on my lap. I stopped reading and stared down on him with wide eyes. He eyed me from his position and asked what's wrong. He wasn't like this before. Never. And this shocked me. "Nothing's wrong. But tell me why are you laying your head on my lap?", I asked with a blush that told the world how embarassed and overworked I was from the whole situation. "I'm simply resting. I was feeling tired." Well he is dead so it was kind of a miracle for me to think that he can feel tired. I just shrugged and returned still a little flustered to reading the current story.

After I finished with the story I glanced down to Ahk who still rested his head on my lap. Surprisingly he kind of fell asleep. I watched his peaceful face and felt the heat returning into my face. I may be out of wax but well I kind of can blush at least at night. Though everyone can kind of. It's cute when I see Teddy blush because of Sacagawea or the other way around. I kind of still wonder how it's possible. But well we talk about a relict that can bring basically everything to life so questioning that kind of stuff can bring a headache to someone and by someone I mean myself.

As I was thinking and staring down on the handsome pharao on my lap the mentioned man was waking up and saw to me. Catching me red-handed as I was watching him sleep. I then registered that he had opened his beautiful brown eyes and well you can guess it. I became something similar to a living tomato. He smiled widely seeing me this flustered and laughed out loud.

"Thank you for guarding my sleep! But I'm sure that the sun will rise very soon." Indeed the sky was getting lighter every minute and it's just a matter of time that we need to be on our places. He sat up but put me to a halt when I wanted to stand up. "Could you answer me one little question about a german word?", he asked looking at the young woman with great interest. "Sure. What is your question?"

"What does "Heimat" mean?" Heimat. I haven't heard that word for long only thought about it. "Well "Heimat" is similar to the english word "home" but some people might say that it has a higher meaning. It's more connected with feelings and it doesn't need to be a place. Sometimes it's a person or a thing." "Hmm can you tell me if my usage of the word is correct?", he asked kind of nervous id I'm putting it right. I just nodded and he took a deep breath. That kind of makes it suspicious. Like if he's going to confess or something. He wouldn't right?

Then he grabbed for my hand and said "(Y/N) my beautiful little desert flower. You are everything to me and my "Heimat" is wherever you are. Eh.. could you tell me how I say in german that you're my "Heimat"?" "Du bist meine Heimat", I answered in a trance like state. "(Y/N). Du bist meine Heimat*" I teared up after he said that. "Du bist auch meine Heimat, Ahk.**" He caressed my cheek and kissed me slowly. It was a cute kiss that showed all his emotions for me and of course I reciprocated it as soon as I was out of my trance.

"I love you", he mumbled lowly while connecting his forehead with mine. "I love you too." He is my "Heimat" and I'm pretty sure he'll always be. Well as long as the tablet and the time are on our side.

What the two lovebirds haven't noticed was that the tablet had little corrosions over it. And that their next adventure is waiting for them.

Well that's it my friend's! It's really late and I'm kind of tired as idk. Especially since it's 3 a.m. And I need to go to school tomorrow like ahhhh! Am I dumb kinda. Do I have to write a class test in math tomorrow? Yes. Yes, I have to. Well that's the reason why I'm going to sleep now. So yeah. Ouh and if I got anything wrong tell me friendly if it's unfriendly I will simply ignore it. I'll make soon a masterlist and link it to this post and the other two as well. And yeah... See ya guys later!

Edited: Here is the masterlist!

Masterlist

Translation: "(Y/N). Du bist meine Heimat." -> "(Y/N). You're my home." * "Du bist auch meine Heimat, Ahk." -> "You're my home as well, Ahk." **

#ahkmenrah x reader #natm #x reader #ahkmenrah x you #ahkmenrah x y/n #fanfic #reader #natm ahkmenrah

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xavsgirl · 2 years ago

Text

Stone cold heart

Pairing:Tyler Galpin x outcast reader

Plot:you’re good at making boys fall for you,but what if for once you fall for someone?

Contains:anger,some fluff

Warnings:swearing words

Author’s notes:no hate for the festivity mentioned it’s just a reference to the show

Masterlist

Thanksgiving:the most boring and stupid festivity Nevermore had ever celebrated.

The hypocrisy hidden behind the garlands and the concert was bigger than principal Weems’ ego,which obviously got on your nervs.

“What’s your duty today?” Kent asked you

“Pilgrim village,but I’m skipping it”

“What do you mean you’re skipping it?”

“I mean that I’m doing that,Kent”

“Yeah but like..how? I mean it’s not like you will go unnoticed”

“Do you really think anyone will pay attention to me? All the students are busy with their stupid jobs and principal Weems has to kiss the mayor’s ass,I’ll surely go unnoticed. I’ll just hide somewhere”

“If they find out,you’ll get expelled”

“Can’t wait to get out of this awful school anyway” you scoffed,leaving the boy.

Nevermore simply disgusted you:students were all so excited to attend classes together and meet their friends while you just wanted to spit on everyone’s face.

The school was trash,the people even worse:but how could you find decent classmates when you were surrounded by idiots that put on a pedestal Bianca Barclay,Wednesday Addams or Enid Sinclair? Embarrassing,you wanted to throw up.

Those girls had nothing:the first was a blowhard,the second a future serial killer and the third a dumb wolf who couldn’t even howl. Ridiculous.

You huffled,opening the door of Jericho café.

It was warm inside,and empty:the perfect place in which to spend the next few hours before finding a new hideout.

The only problem was Xavier working there for the day,but you knew he would have never said a word,he was wrapped around your finger since you dated him.

Well,to be honest date was quite an euphemism:you had a thing with him just to humiliate Bianca.

Everyone in the school had their eyes on them:

“They’re so cute”

“What a nice couple”

“I want what they have”

Bullshit. Barclay wanted to show off she was the artist’s muse, the only one slightly in love was Thorpe but those feelings disappeared the second you got closer to him.

You had an important quality:get people the right way. That was it.

Oh and also,fake it till you make it,or just fake it in general.

Thorpe’s ideal type was quite different from the person you were:he had this weakness for sweet,pretty girls so you didn’t really know how he could had fallen in love with Bianca,she was just a bitch.

Anyway,you started getting to him with cute smiles and nice words,then you started being around him during classes,during lunch,and when he actually trusted you,you dropped the bomb:

“Is it true that Bianca uses her power over you? Oh no wait,if she does you wouldn’t know…” you cringed so bad at the stupidity you had to put in those words,but it worked as Xavier’s eyes changed their light.

“What do you mean?” he asked

“I’ve heard Yoko saying that”

“What the fuck?”

“I swear,she was in the hallway talking to Kent,she said that Bianca was working well with her power on you”

That was it,all it had taken you to make Thorpe go mad and break up with Barclay. Fun part? You weren’t lying.

Barclay and Thorpe were just another one of the many illusions which used to hide the hypocrisy of Nevermore.

A few weeks later,after wasting all your precious time trying to cheer the boy up,he finally declared his feelings to you and the rumour spread.

You dated for around a month,the perfect time to get everyone’s eyes on you and enjoy people whispering any time Bianca walked past. They all knew what she had done,you “unintentionally” told Enid, who uploaded a post about it on her blog.

Once you couldn’t stand Xavier’s corny attitude anymore you broke up with him,putting on a dumb show in which you played the sorry girlfriend who fell out of love and ditched him.

The dude was stubborn tho,he tried to get back to you many times,but you had a new job to complete:Enid’s fallen.

You started from stealing Ajax,who had been her crush for a while. Dating him was even harder than dating Xavier.

Xavier was corny,yes,but Petropolus,damn it,he was an explosion of flowers and rainbows,the perfect partner for Sinclair…if only you weren’t around.

You grabbed the mask of the good girl,threw it in the trash can,and put on the one of the dumb fairy. What a pain,but it worked.

In a few days Ajax barely knew who Enid was,which obviously hurt her,but the cherry on the top of the cake was the secret Petropolus told you.

No one actually knew that Enid had never fully turned into a werewolf,all she could do was make her claws appear and…they were the colour of her nail polish.

When the boy had told you,you had to avoid burst into a loud laugh so you just carried on with your plan.

You opened a parallel blog to the one Enid’s managed,and wrote a very long and detailed post about the little werewolf not being a real werewolf.

All you had left to do was enjoying the students laughing at her in the yard,in the classes and even in the lunch room.

Another secret had been revealed.

So funny,less funny was breaking up with Ajax as he was another stubborn guy and tried to get you back multiple times,fighting with Xavier.

You were so proud of your job,there was just one more person left:Wednesday Addams,how could you destroy her? Well it wasn’t like she wasn’t already doing that on her own,but she was still a quite popular girl no matter the controversies,she even had a bunch of loyal friends.

You were busy thinking about a new plan when it showed up right in front of you:

“How may I help you?l Tyler Galpin asked with a notepad in his hand and a smile on his lips.

You didn’t really considered that normie,you knew Addams probably had a crush on him,and him on Addams,Kent had told you,but you had rarely seen him around so he was a kind of faded imagine in a corner of your mind.

“An espresso,no sugar thanks”

“You like it bitter”

“Just like human’s existence on this planet”

“Okay…” Tyler furrowed his eyebrows and walked towards the kitchen.

You looked at him:maybe this one was easier to get,he had a crush on Wednesday which was a total psychopath,he may had liked a plotter bitch.

A few minutes later the brunette came back with your coffee,and put it on the table,right in front of you

“There you go. Hopefully this coffee will make your existence less bitter” he joked

“I don’t think so. I believe to Leopardi when he said that nature is an evil stepmother”

“Leopardi seems like a funny guy”

“He actually isn’t”

“Maybe he should try one of my coffees”

“Deaths can’t drink coffee,Tyler”

The boy looked at you confused

“How do you know my name? I have never seen you around”

“I’m from Nevermore,you’re a well known name in between the students”

“Oh,exciting. I hope they have nice words for me”

“Nothing is nice in there”

“I don’t believe you”

“You’ve never been in that school”

“But I know the students,they’re sweet people”

You laughed

“Even koalas seems sweet,but they can send you to the hospital”

“You’re pretty intimidating” Tyler giggled

“Oh,I can be” you said,and drank your coffee while the boy welcomed a new person inside the café.

A few days later you were back,sitting at the same table as before, and it went on for many many weeks until you became an abitual customer and Tyler’s friend.

The boy slowly started opening up with you:he told you about Wednesday,the way he couldn’t understand her feelings and some more irrilevant stuff,including stories from his childhood.

“Of course you don’t understand her feelings,she has none” you replied once he went on the Wednesday topic for the millionth time

“No,she has,she just doesn’t show them”

“Yes,of course. It’s like saying that a serial killer is sorry for his victims but kills them anyway”

“Why would you bring that up?”

“Because Addam’s gonna be a serial killer one day”

“You should become one too,then”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed,Tyler laughed

“You two are way more similar than what you think”

“No”

“Yes. Y’all are pessimistic,misanthrope and have the same intimidating aura” Tyler pointed out

“It’s not enough to say that we’re similar”

“It is”

“No. She’s a freak”

“You too are a freak Y/n,you’re an outcast”

“Being an outcast doesn’t mean being a freak”

“Okay,sorry. But you two are similar,you can’t change my mind”

“I’m prettier” you spit out,Tyler laughed again

“Egocentrism is another point you two have in common. Y’all would be best friends”

At those words you couldn’t keep up with the conversation no more:you stood up and hit the table with a fist

“I would never be her best friend! Never! I have nothing to share with a crazy attention seeker! I hate her! And I hate every single student of Nevermore! I want the whole school to burn down so don’t you fucking dare to compare me to any of those hypocritical assholes!” you yelled,everybody in the café turned to look at you,so Tyler grabbed your wrist and lead you to the bathroom.

“Are you mad?” he asked locking you two inside the toilet

“You started it”

“And then Wednesday is the psychopath…”

“Don’t mention her! Stop it!” you were about to yell again

“Okay,okay. May I ask you why you hate her so much? And why you hate Nevermore so much?”

“Nothing is true in there. People act like friends and then talk behind their backs,love is based on magic powers and all they care about is the appearance. They all want to be popular because the real world has always treated them like trash,and they can’t accept it. You know what,Tyler? Maybe I was wrong when I said that outcasts aren’t freaks,we are freaks,we just try to not show it. We all wear masks,I did that too” you said,and walked out from the bathroom as you wanted to go back to school.

A few days later you were laying on your bed:it was past midnight but for some reason you couldn’t sleep,so you grabbed your phone.

You had just turned it on when it rang,a text had just come in:it was Tyler’s.

You furrowed your eyebrows,confused,but checked the text anyway

“Up for a night ride? :)”

“If you really want,yes”

“I do. See you in 10 mins x”

You got dressed up and when Tyler texted you that he was outside Nevermore, you sneaked out and got in his car.

“Hello” he greeted you with a smile

“What brings you here,Galpin?”

“I wanted to see you”

“I know,I’m hard to forget”

“That’s funny because you actually are. I keep thinking about the words you told me in toilet”

“I was just mad”

“You were,but I feel like you are also frustrated”

“If I wanted to talk with a therapist I would’ve asked Mrs. Kinbott” you growled

“Okay,okay I’m sorry. As an apology take the package on the backseats”

At those words you turned your head,noticing a small rectangular present. You took it and opened it.

“A compilation of Leopardi’s poems?” you were surprised:boys used to gift you with dumb stuff like flowers,chocolate and stuffed animals,no one had ever given you such a nice gif,only Tyler.

“This is for what?” you demanded

“To make your life less bitter” he joked,this time you laughed with him.

“If I tell you the other poets I like will you gift me with all their books?” you asked,browsing the pages

“I will”

“There are plenty of them”

“I bet I’ll find all their books in limited editions”

“Sure…” you rolled your eyes,looking outside the window:you couldn’t see much besides the shape of the trees and the shiny stars

“Where are we going?” you asked

“It’s a surprise”

“Is this a date or something?”

“It depends on your perspective:do you want it to be a date or not?”

“Who knows” you shrugged your shoulders

“You’re hard to get,aren’t you?”

“It depends”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want the true me or the one of your dreams? A few boys got the girl of their dreams but not me”

“Do you talk by riddles Y/n?”

You laughed “Confusing people is my favourite hobby”

“I’ve noticed-Tyler stopped the car-here we are” he said.

You got down,realising that the boy had brought you in a beautiful clearing in which you could see the stars.

“I am not kissing you under the midnight sky Galpin,I don’t like romantic movies”

“Keep the kiss for the next time,I just wanted to show you this place. It’s pretty”

“Do you bring here all the girls you like?”

“Who knows”

“I bet you brought here Addams but she didn’t like it”

“You’re wrong on this one:Addams never came here”

“But you invited her”

“I didn’t. I haven’t seen her in a while to be honest”

“Interesting”

The silence filled the air for a second,then Tyler talked again

“Tell me about the poets you mentioned earlier”

“What?”

“Tell me about them”

“Well I like Baudelaire,Blake,Foscolo,Hugo and the Maudits poets”

“That’s our literature,not the outcast’s. You studied at a school for normies,didn’t you?” Tyler was determined to know you,the true you,which kind of caught you off guard.

When you had decided to get his heart in order to steal him from Addams you expected his type to be quite similar to the person you were,but he didn’t stopped at what you showed him,he wanted to go deeper. He wanted to know you for what you really were.

“It’s none of your business” you scoffed

“So that’s how you play? You don’t show your true self to collect the boys you want”

“Excuse me?”

“Okay let’s stop this game. During the Pilgrims Day Xavier told me about the things you did”

“Galpin let me give you an advice:stay away from Y/n. She plots and plays”

“What do you mean Thorpe?”

“She uses people and then ditches them. She’s the reason why everyone knows Bianca’s and Enid’s business. She’s a good actress:all smiles and sweet eyes,but behind those…she’s a devil.

“When we started getting closer I’ve realised that you wanted something from me,but what? You didn’t know me,it was impossible that you wanted to expose me in some ways,like you did with your classmates,then I realised. You knew Wednesday had a crush on me,she was your target. There must have been a way in which you got to Barclay,it was Thorpe,while for Sinclair it must have been Petropolus. I was your way to Addams. Xavier told me about “smiles and sweet eyes” but you just showed me coldness and cynicism,I thought it was because you knew I had a crush on Wednesday,everyone knew about us,so you just tried to be like her. You weren’t trying tho,were you? This is a part of the true you,the one you wanted to show me to get to my heart. The point is that you fucked a few things up so I ended up proving to myself that I had traced a really accurate profile of you”

“Screw me-you smirked,Tyler was smart-may I ask you when I fucked up?”

“Well,the words you said in the toilet,then your riddles about the girl of everyone’s dream and your true self. Xavier was right:you do play with people to make other people sink,and you do it so well. That’s sick,that’s the plotting of a villain”

“It’s checkmate for you Galpin,congrats”

“I want a reward” he said,reducing the space between you two.

Your noses were close,your eyes chained together:invisible discharging flying in the air.

“What do you want?” you demanded

“Two things. First one:the truth. Tell me everything I don’t know about you. Every single thing. I’m sure there’s more on why you hate Nevermore students so much”

“Isn’t hypocrisy a more than valid reason? Nevermore is just a huge lie,a way to humanise creatures that have nothing human besides the appearance. I was a normie once,I loved my old school,and classes,literature in particular,and I had many friends. Then one day my powers showed up and my parents rejected me,sending me to that shitty school with a shitty hierarchy in which who lies the most becomes king or queen faster. I am not the villain of the story,they are,I am just the ones who’s uncovering the truth”

Tyler grabbed your chin,smirking “Keep on talking”

You hit his hand,which fell along his body “I’ve started with Bianca,moved to Enid,now I’m taking care of Wednesday,then I’m gonna move on to my next victim. They will all fall one after another. I’ve never been the popular girl at Nevermore,never wanted to be,but I’ve always wanted to be the Truth”

“Does being the Truth implies lying and manipulating people Y/n?”

“If you want to expose a liar you have to play by his rules”

Tyler laughed “You’re a psycho,you will become a serial killer, not Wednesday”

“What’s the second thing you want,Galpin?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders and scratched the back oh his head,then he grabbed you by the arms and pushed you against the trunk of a near tree.

“A kiss” he whispered in the twilight,clashing your lips together.

The kiss was rough and passionate,it sent shivers along your spine. Maybe that time it was different,maybe you did play with Tyler,but Tyler played with you and,at the end of the manche,both of you lost,or won,depending on the perspective from which you were looking.

The boy fell in love with you,but,for once,you did the same,and maybe,it wasn’t that bad:you knew Tyler hid many surprises behind those deer eyes,you could feel it,you had always felt it.

Just like you,and anyone else,he was wearing a mask.

“Now you tell me the truth” you broke the kiss

“What truth?” he played dumb

“The one which only you know”

Tyler smirked,stepping back,his hands slid in the pockets of his brown leather jacket

“Do you know Lauren Gates?” he demanded,his eyes shining of a strange light born from the dark depths of his soul

“No”

“Then let me introduce you to her,she will help you burning Nevermore down…exactly as you wished” he smirked,and with that your dreams would’ve turned into reality.

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin imagine #tyler galpin fanfic #wednesday #jenna ortega

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keiththecat · 1 year ago

Text

Admissible (Part Two)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader (You)

Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort

Author's Note: Warning! The groping and almost sexual assault is stopped, but it is at the beginning of this part. I have marked the end of the section to skip with <>. (Be warned, the section to be skipped starts right at the beginning of this part!) I have also put a small summary at the very end of this part to explain what you need to know about the part that is skipped. (So if you're skipping the start, scroll down to the end, read the short summary, and come back up to the <>). Feel free to message me if you have any questions or concerns about anything. Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.

Part One

AO3 link here

You’ve been patted down, fingerprinted, photographed, and now you’re sitting handcuffed to the table in an interrogation room in front of Officers Davis and Johnson. Davis is the ray of sunshine that arrested you and processed you, getting a little too handsy when patting you down and taking your weapons and belongings. Johnson is a very tall and gaunt man in his 60s with the worst dark circles you’ve ever seen. He also looks like he hasn’t seen sunlight in probably the last five years. Desk jobs will do that to you, I guess. Davis is the one doing all the talking, leering at you.

“So here’s what we know,” Davis says, counting offenses on his fingers, “You’re not FBI. In fact, the name on your badge is completely fake. You had illegal knives on you and an illegal unregistered pistol. And you were caught around two of the families who have already had members killed recently. Sure does make us wonder who you are and what you were doing.”

Missus Miller must have been the one who called them. You stay silent, knowing that it’s your best bet. They won’t find an ID by searching your prints, but they will likely find them tied to other crime scenes, just due to the nature of your job as a hunter. They won’t find any record of the pistol, the serial numbers have been filed off for years. You send up a prayer to anything listening that they won’t find anything serious enough to keep you for more than a few days.

“You would be smart to talk to us, explain some of this. Maybe if you gave us some answers, we could help,” Davis says.

You know he’s lying. The last thing you want to do is dig this hole any deeper. You smirk at him, then look at the ceiling and start counting the tiles to kill the time.

The officers sit, watching you for several more minutes. Davis continues trying to get you to talk, you continue ignoring him. This is going to be a very boring few days. I hope the boys can figure everything out and kill whatever it is before it gets anyone else. I hope they’re doing okay.

“I don’t think she’s talking, man. I’m taking a few,” Johnson gets up and walks out, leaving you alone with Davis.

After a moment, Davis gets out of his seat, moving around to lean on your side of the table. He places his hand on your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Just us now, sweetheart.” You glance at the camera in the corner of the room and notice the red recording light is no longer on. He’s leaning closer and you’re trying to decide if you can get away with headbutting him, adding assault to your charges, when there’s a knock at the door. Davis drops his hand as the door opens and Sam walks in.

“I certainly hope you haven’t been questioning my client without me, Officer,” Sam says, practically spitting out the last word. “I trust she has been informed of her rights and any charges against her?”

Davis moves away from you, “You’re her attorney?”

“I am, and I need a moment with my client. Thank you,” Sam leaves no room for discussion, taking a seat across from you and looking at Davis expectantly.

Davis looks between the two of you for a moment, then scoffs and goes to leave.

“And make sure all recording devices to this room are off,” Sam calls after him.

Davis grumbles under his breath, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone with Sam.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you being here, because I do,” you say, “but why aren’t you still out there hunting this thing? I can handle a day or two in jail-”

“Y/N,” Sam cuts you off, “I’m here. I’m getting you out of here. Dean is working on it. He can handle himself for a few hours. Besides, I saw how that creep was with you, I’m definitely not leaving you here. They’d probably have you here for longer than a couple days, impersonating a federal officer is a felony. Anyway, I’ve called in some help. What do they have of yours? Anything we can leave behind?”

You tell him about your weapons, holsters, and phone. He nods, looking up and seeming to think to himself for a moment. He pulls out a small kit from his pocket and picks the lock on your handcuffs, finally freeing your wrists. You reflexively rub at the red skin. “You seem strangely comfortable here,” you comment.

“Yeah, I was on my way to becoming a lawyer before... well, just before.” He stands, coming to your side of the table. “Ready?”

“Um, I guess?” you answer, “Want to fill me in on this plan of yours?”

You hear what sounds like wings fluttering, you register a hand on your shoulder, and the next instant, you’re standing inside your hotel room. Sam is still in front of you, “yeah. That’s my plan. Meet Castiel,” Sam gestures behind you.

You turn around, looking into comforting blue eyes. A man stands in front of you, messy dark brown hair, wearing a suit and tan trench coat. “Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “You’ll find your belongings on the bed. Don’t worry, I disabled their cameras. They were not able to see me retrieving your things or us leaving.”

“Oh, wow, um, thanks,” you stutter out. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you? What are you? How did you do that?”

Castiel takes it all in stride, “Not rude at all, Y/N. I would expect you to be curious. I am Castiel, an angel.”

“Oh. Okay.” That’ll take some getting used to. “Thank you, Castiel.”

“Of course, Y/N. Any friend of Sam and Dean is a friend of mine. Pray to me if you should need help again,” he says, then nods at Sam and disappears.

“I can send you his cell number, too,” Sam says, pulling out his phone.

“He’s an angel with a cell phone?” you ask, starting to pick up your things and put your weapons back in their places on your body.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “he’s basically one of us but with perks.”

Sam’s phone rings and he answers, “Hey Dean, you’re on speaker. Y/N is here.”

“You busted out already? That was fast,” Dean says.

“We had some help. I called Cas,” Sam tells him. “What’d you find out?”

“Well, Sam, remember the bank in Milwaukee?”

“A shifter?”

“You betcha. All dealt with. I’m on my way back to the motel now. You guys need a ride?”

Hearing it’s over, you let their voices trail off and sink down onto the edge of the bed. I stupidly got caught, Sam had to save me, and Dean finished the case. Maybe I’m not good enough for this job after all. You realize Sam is no longer on the phone and is looking at you in concern. “You okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you try to convince yourself.

You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push the issue. He goes to watch out the window for his brother. A few minutes later, the Impala is pulling up outside and Dean is knocking on the door.

“Alright, Princess, I figured out what is wrong with your car. I can get it up and running in the morning, should be able to have you out of town by noon, “ he says, making himself comfortable on the chair across the room.

“Sounds good. Thanks, Dean. What do I owe you?”

“Hmmm,” he taps his chin, thinking, “I’ll consider us even if you buy me some pie at that diner.”

“That’s it?” You ask. He nods. You smirk, “Wow, you’re easier than they say. Deal. Let’s go.”

You end up at the diner, all having a slice of pie, Dean filling you in on the details of the shifter. Apparently Missus Miller was the shifter, or rather the shifter was pretending to be Missus Miller. Dean went back to question her, and she recoiled when he shook her hand. “Silver ring,” Dean explained, holding up his right hand and wiggling his fingers in the air. He was able to draw his silver knife and stab her in the heart before she could attack him. “Reflexes like a cat,” Dean bragged, mouth full of pie. You can’t help but smile at him.

You all finish your pie and pile back into the Impala to go back to your rooms for the night. Once again, you can feel both of them watching you during the drive. You do your best to ignore it, watching the streetlights pass by outside.

Outside your rooms, Dean promises to text you when he’s done with your car tomorrow. You thank him, say goodnight to the brothers, and head into your room for the night.

You strip down, deciding to take a bath to unwind. With the bath full of warm water, you sink in and hear your phone go off.

[Sam 9:52PM: You doing okay?]

[Y/N 9:53PM: Doing fine, sunshine. Why?]

[Sam 9:53PM: You’ve seemed off since Dean’s phone call earlier.]

Yeah, I’ve seemed off. I should be able to do this job by myself. I have been able to, until now. I shouldn’t have to rely on you and your brother and your angel friend to save my ass and finish my case.

[Sam 9:55PM: You know you’re one of the best hunters out there, right?]

You let his message go unanswered again. After a few more minutes, you decide to call it a night. You get out of the bathtub, dry yourself off, and put on your favorite pajamas. You’re crawling into bed when you hear a knock at the door. You get up and look through the peephole, seeing Sam standing there in black sweatpants and a long-sleeved grey henley. You sigh and open the door, “Yes, Sam?”

“You stopped answering, so I figured you could use a pick-me-up,” he holds up the bags in his hands, small smile on his face and dimples peeking out. Damn that smile and those dimples. You step out of the way, letting him inside. He comes in, emptying the bags onto the small table while you close and lock the door. “So, I brought ice cream: Phish Food and Americone Dream. I also got some Kit-Kats and M&Ms. We can talk or watch some TV. I’ve also been told I give good hugs.”

You feel like you’re in shock. He just met you today. Sure, he had apparently heard about you from Bobby, but you’ve only known each other for about ten hours. So far in those ten hours, he has taken your sarcasm in stride, gotten you out of jail, went shopping for snacks for you, and is now standing in your room offering hugs. Either he’s insane, or I’ve stumbled upon the eighth wonder of the world. You’ve spent your entire life building walls around your heart, firmly believing that feelings lead to nothing but hurt or death. Somehow in less than half of a day, this man in front of you has managed to obliterate them, leaving you feeling more vulnerable than you ever thought possible.

He turns around, looking at you, unsure what to make of your silence. “Or I can leave. I mean, if you want to be alone-”

He’s cut off by you rushing forward into his chest, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head against his chest. My God, he’s solid like a tree. Once his brain catches up, his arms wrap around you too and he rests his chin on your head. He’s absolutely right, this is the best hug ever. He squeezes you a little and then runs his fingers through your hair. You feel all your muscles relaxing. You stay like this for a while, his hands switching between playing with your hair and rubbing circles on your back.

“I’m strong,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says.

“I can take care of myself.”

“You do,” he agrees. “And you’ll continue to. We’ve just joined in now.”

You pull back a little, tears forming in your eyes. You look at each other, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes. You shy away, pulling out of his arms and clearing your throat. “This all seems very… not your taste, Mister Chicken Wrap,” you joke, gesturing to the sweets and trying to deflect.

He shrugs, “Not really yours either, Miss Salad. But sometimes a little sugar rush can be a good thing.”

You give him a small smile, greatly appreciating that he is willing to change topic, opening the M&Ms and pouring yourself a few before offering the bag to him. He takes the bag, pouring out a couple into his hand and popping one into his mouth.

You sit on the bed, back against the headboard, and pat the space beside you, "So, tell me all about the enigma that is Mister Sam Winchester."

He sits beside you, and you spend the next few hours trading questions and learning all the little things about each other. You learn that his favorite color is blue, he is full of knowledge about true crime and serial killers, and he hates clowns. He listens to The Smiths, Bon Jovi, and Celine Dion. He prefers to eat healthily, and he runs at least once a day to stay in shape. “There are so many unknowns in this world and so many things that can take you out, I refuse to let my cholesterol be what does it,” he reasons. You open up to him as well, telling him your favorite holiday, color, music, and foods. By the time 2AM rolls around, he has resorted to telling you terrible dad jokes.

“You know,” he says, sounding serious, “I’ve realized I only know 25 letters of the alphabet. I don’t know y.”

You groan and laugh at the same time, “Your jokes are terrible, Sam!”

“Oh, I’m well aware. But hey, they make you laugh,” he says, laughing and nudging your shoulder with his.

Your laugh dying down, you rest your head against his shoulder and sigh. “I guess we should get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “you’re probably right.” He pats your head before getting up. You follow him to the door and when he turns around to say his goodbye, you wrap your arms around him again. “Thank you, Sam. You’re kind of alright, I guess.”

He laughs a little, “yeah, you too, I suppose.” You think you feel the ghost of his lips on the top of your head before he pulls away from the embrace. With a smile and small wave, he closes the door, leaving you alone but your heart feeling lighter than it ever has. You crawl under the covers, smiling to yourself and sending one more message before turning out the lights.

[Y/N 2:09AM: Goodnight, Sam.]

[Sam 2:09AM: Goodnight, Y/N.]

<> You have been arrested and are being questioned in an interrogation room by two officers, Davis (who arrested you) and Johnson. You stay silent throughout their questioning, despite their threats and their attempts to coerce you into talking. Johnson leaves, and Sam enters shortly after.

Part Three

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laurelled-by-lavender · 2 years ago

Text

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pairing: yamaguchi tadashi x fem!reader content warnings: PINING!! so so much pining, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, insecure reader, reader has hair (colour, texture, etc is not mentioned) word count: approx. 10k author's note: reader likes girls too, but no labels are applied/specified

you know that you’re supposed to be studying. of course, you know. but how can anyone possibly expect you to do so, when he looks like that. so incredibly pretty, while doing something as simple as sitting and breathing. but there’s that familiar light coming through the large library windows. that golden glow which rests on his face, illuminating his skin. he looks like an angel. you could spend hours like this, admiring him. his every freckle, line, curve and dimple. every twitch of his lips and eyebrows. every flutter of his eyelashes. simply ethereal.

you watch the way he chews at his pencil, though, not wanting to feel like a creep, staring at him much longer, you resort to the things splayed about on your table. your school books are littered everywhere, each of them opened to a different page, lines upon lines of bright pinks and yellows and blues highlighting the ink which rests on the pages. sitting not too far from said books, are the matching plastic tumbler cups he got you (pls i didnt know that thats what they were called until just now, i had to look it up) each with your respective favourite drinks.

tadashi knows you left in a hurry to meet him today. now, he never mentions it or anything, but he knows you have a tendency to be late for things. he also knows how you love to have something to nibble on or to drink when studying. so, he prepares your favourite, just how you like it, right before he leaves, so that when he meets with you, you’ll be thanking him with that beautiful smile he loves to see. it makes him feel all giddy and warm inside, knowing that he’s the one to make you happy like that. he wants to continue to make you happy, for as long as he can.

though, he’ll never tell you that.

he lifts his gaze to look at you. you look so damn adorable, he thinks. you’re wearing an over-sized pastel yellow sweater, with sleeves so long they go past your hands, along with a pair of mom jean shorts, cuffed at each thigh. you donned a pair of white shoes. well, maybe not so white anymore. the pair were quite old and have morphed into a colour of something along the lines of cream. he eyes the flowers on them, remembering the day you had both spent painting the little daisies all over them when you said you wanted to do something different. you couldn’t bother doing anything special with your hair, and you had skipped the makeup entirely, you were only studying after all. despite the little effort you put into your appearance today, he still thinks you look stunning.

he watches you reach over and grab your cup, sipping through the straw slowly, eyes still trailing on your notes. he can’t help but watch as your lips place themselves around the straw. he also can’t help the way he wishes he could kiss them. he watches you for a couple more seconds, but snaps himself out of it, wanting to be respectful of your friendship while he knows..

you like someone else.

after about half an hour, you let out a small, but exaggerated half-whine half-groan.

“i hate this” you say with a small pout. “it’s so boring, and my brain’s no longer allowing information inside of it. ‘m done.” you push your chair back and slump your upper body over the table, arms stretched out over your papers and onto his side of the surface. he sees your face duck down in between your arms, then hears a slight thud, indicating that your forehead had hit the table lightly, as an attempt to tell him that you were over it, and there was no way he could possibly get you to do anymore work today.

with a smile and a tilt of his head, he raises himself up off his chair, walks around the table, and stands behind you. he pushes your chair back into it’s proper place, forcing you to sit upright. the last thing you expected him to do was lean down right next to your ear, and whisper,

“do you need help, yn?”

you swear your heart felt as though it had entered an olympic hurdles competition, ‘cause that bitch was running a mile a minute and jumping all around, somewhere deep in your chest.

“uh, uhm- no?” you uttered out.

“is that so?” he replied. “cuz your notes are looking real blank if you ask me.”

you were quick to retaliate, pushing aside your love-struck thoughts and shooting back with,

“well, it’s a damn good thing i never asked you, isn’t it?” you turn your face slightly to your left, your faces now so close, you’d be kissing him if you moved so much as an inch. you sucked in a small gasp. you couldn’t help it. he was so close to you, you could smell his intoxicating cologne wafting through the air. it made your eyelids flutter to a close. you took in a slow breath. as you inhaled, he flooded your senses. his smell, his breath, his heartbeat. it felt as though you could feel it all. thrumming, coursing through your every nerve.

it reminds you of that time. that one time, long, long ago when you gave a piece of yourself to him when you were both only little, enraptured by the idea of having your first kiss.

he’s the one who pulls away first, again, reminding himself that this isn’t real. that he’s imagining the chemistry. the pull that’s drawing you both closer together. she likes someone else. he reminds himself, time and time again.

someone who isn’t you. a voice calls from afar in his head.

he shakes himself, mentally, disallowing those kinds of thoughts to permeate his brain. this isn’t about him, and it’s not because he’s not good enough.

he remembers the things he spoke about with his therapist. the self-love and validating exercises, reminding him, telling him, that he’s good enough. it’s not about him, it’s about some other person, and that’s not something he can control, and that doesn’t mean he’s any less important, or any less loved. especially by you.

at least he knows that he’ll always hold a place in your heart. he was, after all, your very first kiss.

his insides beam as he recalls the memory. it was clumsy. of course it was. you were only about 8 years old, as was he. you were shaking, out of excitement and nervousness. it was an elementary sort of thing. you had sort of planned it. it was kind of a mutual understanding that he’d be your first kiss, and that you would be his. he can only imagine what it would feel like now. now that he’s known you and liked you and dreamt of kissing you again for so damn long.

and yet, you liked someone else.

he’s accepted long ago, that he may never have that happily ever after that he’s longed for. the kind that he decided he wanted, with you, when you first watched ‘princess and the frog’ together as kids in your fluffy pillow fort. he remembers the way your wide eyes sparkled during the end scene, where tiana and naveen dance on the balcony in the twilight, the gleam of the moon reflecting off the water down below. he decided then and there, that he wanted that with you.

only you.

tadashi’s accepted long ago that he may never have that happily ever after that he’s dreamed of since he was a child.

at least, not with you.

you lay in bed that night, wide awake, thoughts racing. you wanted him to want you. you wanted him to want you back, so bad. it was laughable, really, how you felt like a 12 year old running around, hiding your silly little crush from your friends.

you weren’t oblivious. at least, you weren’t that oblivious. you know better than to assume that what went down in the library was a normal friendship occurrence.

he pulled away first, you remind yourself.

you try not to fixate on that, hoping that if you don’t, you’ll forget it, and it’ll be as though he did actually like you. like his breath so close to your ear was intentionally done to make you fall. to pull you closer. as if every moment after it was real. for all you know, you had imagined the whole damn thing.

your heart squeezed in your chest. is it always going to be this way? you had no idea whether or not he felt anything for you. or if he was attracted to anyone romantically at all. he seemed to avoid those kinds of questions.

what you did know, though, was that he acted differently around you than he did other girls. it’s hard to pinpoint, but it’s there. maybe it’s his demeanor. maybe it’s the way he laughs. he always did seem to laugh harder when other girls were around. they would come around and tell jokes that you can only wish you had come up with so that you could have been the one to make him laugh like that. you instead of them. you dreaded the way they touched his arm afterwards, they way they would smile at him, chin tilted down, but eyes gazing up, into his, twinkling with something more. hoping for something more.

it made you sick to your stomach.

if anything, you couldn’t blame them. he was always so nice. so kind, and pretty and smart. you couldn’t rule out his physique either, or his style. he had this way about him, that made all the girls, even the guys (and literally everyone else) fall to their knees. he unknowingly demanded attention, attracting everything and everyone to him, even the light which illuminates the very room in which he resides.

in many ways you wished that you were the only one to notice how bright he shone. how magnificent he was.

how selfish of you.

but, another part of you remembers how he was treated as a child, and you’re happy that people are noticing him and loving him like he deserves. you could only wish that they had seen it before he had hit puberty and grew ten times taller and ten times hotter. you weren’t blind to the fact that the girls who used to make fun of him back when you were young are now the ones flocking to him, hoping to be the one to make a smile form on his beautiful lips.

weeks and months flew by, as did courses and end of year exams, and soon enough, it was summer. you always enjoyed the summer, because that’s when you spent most of your time with tadashi. your difference in academic programs didn’t affect you two now that you’ve plenty of time off to do whatever you wanted. amusement parks, shopping sprees, beach trips and sleepovers were only a few of the things you’d collectively planned to do these upcoming months.

you’d never admit it out loud, but you were glad that you were less likely to see people that you knew.

during these humid and hot months, he always spends his time with you. day and night. it reassured you, that in these times, it was just you and him. you cherished it, knowing that the minute summer is done, the possibility of tadashi falling for someone is much more likely. you prepare yourself for it, mentally, though when the day does come, you’re not entirely sure you could bear it.

long ago, have you given up on any silly dreams where you’d be the one to end up with yams.

you saw, time and time again, what kinds of girls he became enraptured by when they went to cling to his arm. girls who you believed were prettier than you. girls with perfect skin and hair and bodies which you thought were a thousand times more desirable than yours. still, you’d be glad to have him by your side. after all, he is your closest friend.

things hadn’t really changed. your dynamic stayed the same. as flawless and as smooth as ever. snarky, teasing comments and effortless conversations and exchanges.

you dreaded the day he would find someone who could do it better than you.

either way, you could enjoy the now.

you were both at yamaguchi’s house, chilling in his backyard. you loved his house. it was familiar and comforting, and you adored every single aspect of it. it smelled like him, and the house was decorated with hanging plants and warm wooden tones. you basically grew up here with him. it was your second home.

you were always welcome here. tadashi’s parents always loved you, and treated you like one of their own. they showered you with love and lots and lots of food whenever you came over. always asking for you to stay for dinner and then overnight. they insisted on your company. in truth, you knew that tadashi’s parents wanted you to end up together. of course you did. hell, your parents did too. neither of them ever really tried to hide it.

your families were close. in fact, your parents were like best friends with each other, and it was all because of you two, way back when, during your elementary school years.

as the story goes, one of your parents would come over to tadashi’s to come pick you up from your after school play-date, and then they would end up spending 2 hours talking and talking to yamaguchi’s parents, forgetting about you two entirely as you laughed and danced and played in the basement. over the years, your families kind of joined together. they enjoyed each other's company, and only found greater pleasure when they realized how well you two got along (and how adorable you were together) as we know now, they became best friends, which in turn only allowed your friendship with tadashi to grow even stronger. they made no secret of their hopes of you two becoming a pair. always hinting and nudging. purposefully having you two sit next to each other at the dinner table when you stayed to have supper with them, always insisting you share a room on vacations when your families took trips together, and you parents always speaking of how you’d never find a connection like you have with him, with anyone else.

well, at least they got one part right.

if there was one thing you knew, it was that you’ll never be able to have this with anyone else. you don’t think anyone could live up to him.

you were sat on a cushioned hammock chair, legs crossed, reading a book. yamaguchi wasn’t very far from you, lying on the ground by the pool, stomach down, on a striped blue and green towel. his long legs pass the towel, and lay against the hot concrete deck. he’s resting his chin on his arms as they’re crossed, and he looks up at you, (at least, he tries to) squinting as the bright sun obstructs his vision slightly. he can make out your figure and position and can decipher in two seconds that you’re reading. he knows you love that chair. it’s your favourite spot to read. over the years, he’s observed you. he’s observed you enough to know your favourite reading positions and favourite spots, and that comfy hammock provided you the utmost comfort. he prides himself of that chair, knowing how happy it makes you.

(it’s like a subtle flex for himself LMFAO.. like every time he sees you on it he’s like, yea that’s right, that chair’s in MY backyard, no one else’s. yn’s butt enjoys THIS spot the best, n it’s all cuz o’ me!)

“whatcha readin’?” he asks in a sing-song sort of voice

“a book.” you say flatly, not wanting to lose your place.

“what’s the title of the book?” he continues,

...

no reply.

“what kind of book is it?”

more silence. you wait for another question, but it doesn’t come. after a few short seconds, just when you think he’s done inquiring...

“is it smut?”

at this you break out laughing, “’dashi, please ’m just tryna read! leave me alone!” you try to sound annoyed, but you can’t hide the smile as you speak, or the giggle after every other word.

he smiles at the reaction he got from you.

using his hands to push himself up off the ground, he moves from his spot. he notes the way you eyed his back and arm muscles as he got up, but thinks nothing of it. he then wipes his hands on his shorts and takes a couple steps towards you.

you pretend as though you don’t see him, as if you’re still reading your book. in reality, you’re just worried that he caught you blatantly staring.

he stands in front of you for a good 10 seconds. you finally look up at him, though, only to complain that he’s blocking then sun, when he snatches the book from your hands, turns and walks off quickly, reading out-loud from the pages you had open. you immediately remove yourself from your comfy chair and chase him as he speed-walks around the pool. he finally relents after 2 whole minutes, and he’s finally about to give you back the book... but instead, he simply holds it in front of you and pulls it back every time you try to reach for it.

he had his fun like this for a while.

suddenly, in the midst of his teasing, he notices something. he notices the colourful tabs which stick out slightly from the ends of the pages. blue, pink, yellow, green... a devilish smirk appears on his face as he turns to face you. you both stop in your tracks.

“what are the red tabs for?” he asks slyly.

your face feels hot and your stomach tightens. how did he know?! at a loss for words and, for once, a comeback, you decided to resume your chase at full force, grabbing the closest thing you can find to hit him with as you went.

you settled on an orange pool noodle.

this will do, you thought as you snatched it from it’s upright position against the pool fence.

from the kitchen window, his mother watches you chase her son with a smile on her face and a glass of iced tea. you two could not be more adorable. she thinks...

or oblivious.

after weeks and weeks of hot, humid weather, it seemed as though mother nature had had enough.

the clouds had become her eyes, as she loomed and watched over your town. she cried and she cried, allowing rainwater to fall. it filled ponds and lakes, and turned streets into rivers.

simply put, it was pouring.

you stood at the window, watching as the harsh drops of rain hit the puddles out on the street, forming tiny waves that drifted away and faded until another took it’s place. the grey gloom from the weather outside felt like it was infiltrating your home, passing through the windows, reaching in. into your living room and into your chest, clutching your heart. you don’t know why it made you feel this way, but you didn’t like it.

you shut the curtains in a swift motion, leaving the room significantly darker than it was a couple seconds ago, as most of the lights had been turned off. you turned to face tadashi, who was sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor, playing solitaire. you didn’t have the heart to tell him he was playing it wrong.

“too gloomy for you?” he asked without looking away from the playing cards.

you hummed in response and sat on the couch across from him, watching him play for a while.

“wanna watch something?” you ask.

“what d’you feel like watching?” he questioned back, already knowing what to suggest to make you happy.

“i dunno, something comforting, maybe nostalgic, to take away from the gloomy weather?” you respond.

“how about fantastic mr. fox?”

“that’s perfect.”

while he made the peach tea, you set up the movie and the blankets. you soon found yourself cuddled up against him, warm mugs in hand as your shoulders and head bopped around slightly to the beat of the opening song.

it was a great choice. it was bright, and yellow and the exact opposite of whatever the world looked like outside right now.

you know that he was only doing this for you. tadashi knows how much it upsets you when it rains in such a way, so he did everything he could to make you feel all right, but for him, this weather was all too pleasant.

you never understood why yamaguchi tadashi loved rainy weather. sure, he could enjoy the sun and whatnot when it was out, but there was something about it that drew him to it. whenever it rained, he always seemed the most himself. it may have been your eyes tricking you, but every time you recall watching him as it poured, you could see a faint upturn to the sides of his mouth. as though it brought him a sense of calm. you simply didn’t get it. how could something so dreary and grey and gloomy bring such comfort to a person? most of all, how could it elicit these feelings in a person who reminded you so much of the sun? he was so bright.

when you looked at him, thought of him, never once had you ever seen rain. nor the cold or cloudy skies. you thought only of light. how could it make him so at ease? all it did for you was upset you. you hated to see the world in such a way. for, you preferred it when everything shone yellow and gold. it made you feel warm and safe.

it was funny, in a way. you two were so alike. or at least it always seemed so. maybe underneath, if you were to peel back the blankets of memories, you’d find that you’re not so similar after all. but maybe that’s a good thing,

why, haven’t you ever heard that opposites attract?

the doorbell rings and pulls him out of his thoughts. you both already know who’s at the door. you place your mug on the coffee table and make your way to the front door. you open it as if you lived there and welcome your guest in with a bright smile. he gets up shortly after you, and upon arriving at the entrance door, he sees yachi.

hitoka yachi was one of his closest friends in high school. he actually thought she was really cute when he first met her, and when you started dating someone else, he figured he might do the same to try and get over his life-long crush on you.

it didn’t work.

he found out pretty quickly that he wasn’t attracted to her romantically, and she found out just as fast that she wasn’t to him either. they agreed to be good friends, and soon enough they started confiding in one another.

he admitted his secret longing for you to her.

she admitted that she liked girls.

yachi gives you a big hug before bringing to your attention the food and board games she brought. you thank and bring the stuff she brought to the kitchen, and in the meantime, tadashi welcomes her as well. when she sees that you’re out of earshot, she immediatley asks,

“so? anything?”

he turns to her with a sigh and a look that basically says, what are you even expecting? of course not.

she tilts her head and sighs.

she can’t wait until one of you grows the balls to ask the other out.

you shout out from the kitchen saying you’ll prepare something to eat for all of you before joining them for the rest of the movie. hitoka sees this as a perfect opportunity to talk about it. they walk over to the couch and get comfortable, sitting cross-legged across from each other. (optimal gossip/drama sharing position, if i do say so myself)

“honey, what you are so afraid of? you’re so perfect for each other. she may never make the first move, yknow. remember how she was with terushima? she couldn’t confess to him, let alone speak to him. the only reason that ever happened was because he went for it! yn’s had too many heartbreaks over silly, stupid people who didn’t show her enough love. she’ll always be unsure and need reassurance and you’re amazing at that! unless you make it clear to her that you want her, she’ll never try. she doesn’t want to get hurt again. neither of us want that for her, and you and i both know that if she were yours, you’d never let that happen.”

“but what if i do?”

“what are you talking about?” she asks in disbelief.

“what if i’m not enough for her? what if i end up hurting her because i can’t give her what she wants? i couldn’t bear it if we ruined what we have now.” it’s all for naught if she’s in love with you, anyways, he thinks.

he doesn’t add that part though.

tadashi has been... speculating.

he knows you like someone, and due to some unfortunate experiences from the past, you tend to prefer dating people you’re already friends with. he figures that the most likely option would be yachi. it makes sense, he supposes. aside from him, you spend most of your free time with her. she’s pretty, she’s incredibly smart and funny, and you find great comfort in her. you both got along really well when he first introduced you two to each-other. in fact, he thought it was almost scary, how quickly you were able to befriend her. though, you were like that with everybody. after all, you were like that with him, too. tadashi figures that after how long you’ve known one another, if you were bound to catch feelings for him at some point, it would have happened by now. yachi still has that chance, he thinks. you’ve known her quite a while, but not long enough, perhaps, for you to eliminate her as a possibility for a romantic partner. he’s acutely aware of the way you smile at her. how you’re always cuddling when she’s over, how you absentmindedly play with the ends of her hair as you lay your head on her shoulder. it’s not too far fetched of a theory.

what a waste, he thinks. now neither of you can be happy.

you and yachi deserve each other. maybe he deserves you too. but just because he’s deserving of something doesn’t mean he’ll get it.

hitoka sighs, and tadashi’s pulled out of his thoughts. she grabs his face by the cheeks and places a kiss on his forehead.

“you’re overthinking again, yams.” she whispers into his skin.

he stays quiet for a moment before responding,

“i know.”

you hear footsteps shuffle into the kitchen and turn your head to find hitoka leaning against the door frame.

“hey babes, whatcha makin?” she asks with a grin.

“just a quick lil platter. lil bit a fruits n veggies ‘nd some of the chips ‘nd stuff you brought.”

you’re licking the juice dripping down your hand from the strawberries you’ve just cut when she states,

“you look upset.”

there’s a pause. you turn, continuing the preparation of the food.

“it’s raining.” is all you respond. she notices the twitch in your brow. “no. no, no. there’s something else... it’s yams, isn’t it?” she retaliates. “why can’t you just ask him if he likes me? won’t that make things easier?” you whisper aggressively, wanting to let out your thoughts without letting tadashi hear you. “we’ve been over this yn. it wouldn’t be natural. if it ends up being the reason things go wrong i couldn’t live with myself. i would never want to do that to you or yamaguchi, and i don’t want to lose either of you. if something happens between you two it has to happen organically. asking through me isn’t organic.” you sigh, “i know, i know. ‘m sorry. that was very middle school of me.” she smiles gently, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. she moves to give you a hug, resting her forehead on your shoulder. she speaks softly, and it’s muffled, but you can still her her clearly enough as she says, “it’s okay, yn. i know it’s difficult but, if you think you’re up for it, just... try. okay? make a move. a small one. trust me.” a couple moments pass in silence. you take a breath before finally responding. “okay... thank you, ‘toka.”

the three of you reconvene in the living room and spend a few hours playing video games and watching movies until you’re bored out of your minds. lazing the day away was one of your favourite things to do with your best friends, especially on a day like this. after a very long while, hitoka decides that it’s time for her to leave. you give her the biggest, tightest hug and a kiss on the cheek. the action doesn’t go unnoticed by tadashi. he bids her farewell with a hug, and as he goes to pull away she whispers to him,

“make a move, before it’s too late.”

hitoka leaves with one final goodbye and a dramatic wave once she steps out into the wet weather. as she turns to back to head home, she wonders if tadashi will actually do what she told him to, or if you’ll both give up on something neither of you knew could even be. she hopes it’s not too late.

you’re back where you started, you on the couch, yams on the floor. the only difference now being that it’s way too late in the night. you sit in comfortable silence, the only noise being the gentle pitter patter of raindrops on the windowsill. after a couple moments, he stands to make himself comfortable near you. he lies his head on your crossed legs and gazes up at you. your fingers unconsciously make their way to his face, tracing all of his features, each delicate curve. he takes one of your hands. he plays with your fingers, traces your palm, interlocks your pinkies and rubs the inside of your wrist, as though he were trying to examine every square millimeter of your hand while never once taking his eyes off of yours. as though he were captivated, all consumed by you.

“i love you, tadashi.”

“i love you too, yn.”

“no, my angel. i love you. i’m in love with you.”

her frowns, before gently removing his hands from yours so that he can sit properly, face to face with you. you sit cross-legged across from each-other, just as he was with hitoka earlier that day. “what about yachi?” he asks. “what about her?” you respond. what did she have to do with this? had she already told him? “you- i mean.. don’t you like her?” you laugh at that, albeit nervously, “of course- of course i like her, she’s my best friend, dashi.”

he lets out a small sharp breath, as though he were frustrated. not at you, but more at himself for not being able to articulate and convey his thoughts properly. “no, yn, i mean... like.. love her, like her. as a partner. a girlfriend.”

“no, my love that’s.. that’s you.”

“me?” he repeats. you nod.

“how could it be me?”

“it’s always been you.”

he’s quiet for a while. he stares at you, eyebrows furrowed. you’re not exactly expecting a love confession back. you don’t even know how he feels about you beyond being his best friend. but at the same time, you didn't expect this. tadashi used to apologize a lot. he never really spoke his mind. he would bottle it up, more and more and more until he exploded. he always felt terrible afterwards.

“no.”

in that second, you feel as though your heart stopped beating. but even then, his blatant rejection is not an explanation. he continues for you. “no. you’re not in love with me. you may think you are, but you’re not. you’ll get over it soon enough and- and.. i’ll- i don’t wanna hurt you. no.... no.”

“dashi-” you start, but he’s interrupting you, “this can’t happen.”

your vision is blurry, clouded by tears. lips quivering, you manage a quiet,

“why?”

there are tears flowing down his cheeks now, too. he brings his hands up slowly, ever so gently, to cup your face. his hands are warm on your skin. he rests his forehead on yours. he breathes shakily. “i’m so sorry, angel. you’re the love of my life,” it was said softly but passionately, his voice cracking a little at the end, “but you have to go now.” you sob and shake your head. “don’t do this.” you say. he nods in protest, “i have to.” your tears fall quickly down your face. you can’t remember the last time you cried like this. you didn’t expect to lose him. not today. not like this. his palms are wet from your salty tears. “go.” he whispers you scrunch your eyes shut, praying the tears away. praying all of this away, hoping it’s just a bad dream. a nightmare, the worst, most realistic one you’ve ever had. but when you open your eyes, he’s still there. his lips are quivering, much like yours, and his cheeks are as pink and his eyes are. you hate to say that he’s still as beautiful as ever. he’s not looking at you anymore. he can’t stand to look at you, let alone in the eye. the warmth and comfort of his hands have left the sides of your face, and you feel empty. you stand slowly, making your way out of his house. the place you used to call your second home. it all comes crashing down on you, much like the rain outside. you’re colder than ever. with nothing else to lose, you walk. you walk to the only other person you can fully trust. you go to yachi’s.

you hesitate several times on your way there, but you figure if anyone knows how to help, it’s yachi. when you get to her apartment, it’s almost 1:30 in the morning. she opens the door a crack before realizing it’s you. it takes her a second more to notice the tears streaking your face and the way you sniffle before she’s ushering you inside with a hand on your back, and another in your hand. you’re slightly hunched, with your free hand over your heart.

“it hurts.” you sob.

“oh, baby. what happened?” she asks, but you she’s not expecting an answer yet. not until you’re comfortable and dry.

she brings you to her room and sits you down on her bed. she undresses you gently but quickly, and puts you in the clothes she keeps at her place for you in case you need to sleep over. they’re comfy and oversized. you feel yourself starting to warm up. all throughout, your eyes are stuck to the floor, unmoving. she then moves you under the covers and holds you close. your eyes burn from how much you’ve cried, and now that they’ve dried, they feel heavy. you fall asleep before you can even process it.

you wake up to the smell of pancakes. you almost cry again when you remember what happened last night. your body screams at you as you get up and shuffle into the kitchen. hitoka turns from the stove when she hears your footsteps. she smiles a small smile and gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “i’m making you your favourite. it looks like you need it.” you hum in response as she tells you to sit on the couch and put something on the tv. moments later, she’s placing two plates on the coffee table and taking her spot next to you. you’re filing through the shows without really paying attention to the names. you’re in a daze. hitoka’s soft voice brings you back to her.

“do you wanna talk about it?”

the truth is, yachi already knows everything. well, at least from tadashi’s point of view. after you fell asleep last night, yachi took it upon herself to call him. pacing back and forth in her little kitchen, she tried to calm yamaguchi’s breathing over the phone as he panics over the end of your friendship and his decision. his breaths are heavy and he hiccups every once in a while, sometimes even choking when trying to take in too much air, too fast. “shh, shhh, honey. it’s okay. go slow.” when his breathing regulates and he’s left exhaling shakily, he tells her how you confessed your feelings for him, only for him to reject all of it by pushing you away while telling you that it wouldn’t work and that he’d hurt you. when he explains to her how you tried to reason with him, she sighs, “i though we talked about this, yams. she would do anything for you. she loved you still. she tried for you even as you were actively trying to push her away.”

“i told him that i was in love with him...” you start.

she doesn’t respond. she waits, knowing that you’re not done. “he-,” you sigh, “he told me that... that i wasn’t truly in love with him, and that he’d hurt me.” tears flood your eyes as she hugs you closer. there’s a pause before you finish in a pained whisper. “he told me i was the love of his life.” she pulls back at that, hands on your shoulders. “he, what?” you sob with a hand over your mouth.

tadashi didn’t tell her about this. she knew it of course, that he was in love with you. she’s known for ages. but he failed to inform her about his confession to you. finally, you both knew, and yet, things weren’t right. you should be together right now. holding each other and happy. “i’m so sorry, baby.” it’s whispered into your hair. she doesn't know what else to offer as consolation. she knows things will turn out all right, but as is known, yachi believes in the art of the organic. he'll figure it out soon enough, she decides. for now, the best she could do is comfort you. she wishes that things had gone differently. her heart breaks as you sob into her arms.

it’s been a week. you feel a little better, but the hurt in your heart still lingers. the sting is more painful than you’d like it to be. you wish it could lessen quicker. yachi stands in front of the mirror in her bedroom, holding up different tops against her chest.

you watch her from the bed, the netflix show playing on your laptop long forgotten as you help her make decisions for her outfit tonight. she eyes you from the mirror, “you sure you don’t wanna come?” you shake your head. “i don't know if i can handle a party right now. my poor aching heart needs a rest.” you exclaim sarcastically, resting the back of your hand against your forehead as you drop your head back, feigning distress. she chuckles before searching through her earrings to find the right pair. “maybe,” she says. “but maybe it’ll be good for you. i know you’re not one for rebounds or anything, but at the very least you can drink your sorrows away.” she finishes and turns back to you holding a different jewel against each ear, silently urging you to decide for her. “the silver ones.” you decide. she hums with a nod. you think about it. it doesn’t sound that great, but you’ve been cooped up in your room for days. maybe it’ll be nice to let loose a bit. she’s right, you think, booze might help. “okay, i’ll come.” she jumps excitedly with a clap of her hands, dragging you up and off the bed to her closet to help you pick something out for tonight.

the club is loud and cramped. hitoka holds your hand as she leads the way to the bar, seemingly knowing the layout of the place perfectly. you couldn’t blame her, you suppose. hinata throws a lot of parties. it wasn’t unlike him to rent out a place for the night. it’s not like it would be empty, either. shoyo also knows a lot of people. when finally at the bar, you spot hinata, along with terushima and another guy you haven’t met before. shoyo greets you with a big smile and a hug. “yn! i didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaims, though it’s a little slurred. you nod at the other two, not missing the wink terushima throws at you. you and terushima didn’t necessarily end on a bad note. it’s been a long time anyways, but that was certainly unexpected of him. you can’t even remember the last time you spoke to him. yachi gets herself a drink, as well as one for you. she asks if it’s okay if she leaves you for a minute to make the tour around the club and say hi to people. after your confirmation, she leaves, though not after a final check in. yuji takes no time in swooping in after waving off his friend. “heard about your little break-up.” he says. you groan. “we weren’t even dating.” you clarify with a grumble. he hums and moves closer. “i can help.” he adds suggestively. “o- oh uhm, i don’t think-” “no, no. nothing like that,” he says. “but i’lll gladly be your drinking buddy if you’d let me? maybe even a dance partner?” you smile. you missed him. sure he was kinda sleazy, but he doesn’t mean any harm. he could be a really good friend sometimes. “thanks, yuji.” he grins toothily before jutting his chin in the direction of your cup. “bottoms up, girl.” you let out a laugh that sounds more like a scoff before downing the contents inside.

yamaguchi really wasn’t planning on coming tonight. a party is probably the last thing he needs right now. he didn’t want to face yachi, or you. you were never really a party person. he thinks to himself. hopefully, you’re not there. he gets dressed quickly and makes his way out, hoping to find a way to forget about you tonight. except, when he makes his way into the house, he spots you immediately. on the dance floor. with terushima yuji. he tries to ignore it. but you look so happy. your hips are moving, hands in the air, so carefree. you look beautiful, as always. yuji spots him. tadashi watches as he makes his way even closer to you, grabbing your waist while keeping his eyes locked on yamaguchi. he’s challenging him. he’s daring him. daring him to make a move and do something about it. he doesn’t. instead, he turns and makes his way to the bar. i need a drink, he thinks. or five.

you spend hours dancing, taking turns with yachi, shoyo, and even bokuto. bokuto was lively and incredibly funny. you dare say you enjoyed dancing with him the most. although, terushima was a close second. soon enough, yuji asks to steal you back from bokuto. he grabs your hand and brings you closer before turning you around so that your back is to his chest. he puts his hands on your hips and dances in sync with your movements. yamaguchi watches from the indoor balcony that looks down upon the dancefloor. he watches as terushima grinds his hips sensually and rakes his fingers against your sides. tadashi downs his drink, before asking the closest girl next to him to dance.

she agrees eagerly, thrilled that the mysteriously quiet freckled guy she’d been eyeing the entire night has noticed her. it doesn’t take long for you to spot him. he’s holding a girl’s hand, leading her onto the dancefloor.

you didn’t even know he was here.

and now you wish you did, because she’s gorgeous. tall and fit. her platinum blonde hair shines purple from the lights above. they fit well together, you think as you admire him for the first time tonight. his hair is tied up in a half-up half down ponytail. the hairstyle exposes the hidden highlights he has done. the colour matches her hair perfectly. he has a couple loose strands, but they don’t manage to hide his piercings. he wears a black cropped graphic tee. from the waist down, he wears all black. the shirt’s length (or lack thereof) shows off the fishnets he wears underneath his baggy ripped jeans. (yk like those punk yamaguchi drawings) he looks fucking incredible. it’s quite different to what he usually wears, but maybe that’s what makes it all the more alluring. you break out of your trance when you realize that he’s still here, dancing with someone else. you couldn’t fault him. you were dancing with someone else, too.

yuji feels you freeze up against him. he leans over your shoulder to look at your face and sees the tears building up. you saw them.

suddenly very gentle, he tucks away the hair from your face before whispering in your ear, “i’ll take you somewhere else.” you nod, sparing tadashi one last look before following terushima out of the bar.

you find yourself in the backseat of teru’s car, though, not how one may think. you sit in silence, the only sound being the occasional sniffle from you. “if you wqant.. and only if you want.. i can help you. for real this time.” you look at him, with tears in your eyes, and pretty lips. “gonna help me forget about him?” you ask, voice quivering as you struggle to hold back a new wave of tears. “i promise, my angel.” you almost flinch at the petname. it sounding so unfamiliar, so wrong, on his lips. you don’t say anything. instead, you nod, shuffling closer to him. you fist the collar of his shirt. he puts his index finger under your chin, tilting your face upwards, ever so slightly. you look so pretty, he thinks. he leans in, and your finger tighten further into the fabric of his shirt. you’re hesitating. yuji knows this, so he continues slowly. you’re barely leaning in. you can’t remember the last time you kissed someone like this. you felt so vulnerable. your lips were close now. the reality of it all hits you now. if you moved so much as a couple inches you’d be kissing him. you get deja vu. it takes you back to that time in the library. he was so so close to you. it felt so intimate, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. slowly and deeply all at once. he was tadashi. that’s who you wanted. not this. not terushima, nor anyone else.

that’s when he feels it. it’s less of a push but more of a pause. it did nothing, of course. it barely did anything. in fact, it would have been imperceptible had the situation been any different. you barely even acknowledged it yourself. he pulls back and lets out a breath, looking at you with worry in his brow. yours hands unleash their grip on his shirt and flatten against his chest. you looked to him in moderate confusion. “it’s okay,” he whispers. “you don’t have to force yourself to want this.”

you knew it yourself. you didn’t want this. you wanted tadashi. you wanted him with you, in your arms. his lips on yours, your fingers interlocked with his. his warmth, and no one else's. it’s your turn to let out a breath, though, more out of despair than anything. you rest your head on his chest, in between where your hands lay. “i’m so sorry.” gentle hands find their way to your head and back, one stroking lightly along your spine, sending shivers down your back, and the other massaging your scalp. you stay like this for a while. the two of you sit in the realization of what happened, and what could’ve happened. it’s not awkward. you lift your head and take another breath. “thank you.” it’s said with a small smile, and he can see that there’s sadness lingering behind it.

“he has to be the biggest idiot in the universe to give up someone like you.” he says, with a palm to your cheek. you smile with a scoff, “you gave me up, too, yuji.” you quip, though it’s playful. “i did. but you and i both know that we weren’t meant to be together. nor will we ever be. you’re supposed to be with tadashi.” he reasons, with a poke to your forehead. “i know,” you whisper. “i just wish he knew it too.”

soon enough, you’re walking back into the party with yuji on your arm. hitoka spots you almost immediately, as does tadashi. yachi rushes over to you, exclaiming how worried she was when she couldn’t find you. it doesn’t take long before you’re saying your goodbyes to the boys and walking back out the door you had just entered only a couple minutes ago. yamaguchi watches you leave. he almost had half the heart to go and chase you out the door, but is reminded of the girl on his arm when she plays with the bracelet on his wrist. the one you made him.

his mood drops significantly fast.

he rips his arm away from her, not caring about being seen as rude. he narrows his eyes at something near the bar, or rather someone, and makes his way over there.

yuji is leant over the counter with a drink in his hand. tadashi takes his spot on the right of him, back against the bar, arms crossed. “something uh, happening between you n yn?” he asks, voice devoid of geniality. terushima only grins, slinking his eyes to the door you left in, then back to him. they make direct eye contact. there’s a dry smile on yuji’s face. it’s not friendly. “yeah,” terushima responds cooly, not missing the way yamaguchi’s shoulders and arms tighten in their hold from the corner of his eye. he takes a sip of his drink. “is she not available?” yuji asks smugly, challenging him. “available?!” tadashi repeats incredulously, and maybe a little too quickly, too, because when he takes in the raised eyebrow and smirk on terushima’s face, he realizes that he’s never wanted to slap someone so badly in his life. yuji smiles as he watches the boy walk away wordlessly.

you couldn’t sleep. the bed was warm, the room was dark, and you were tired. and yet, you couldn’t sleep. your thoughts were so loud. “you sigh so noisily.” you hear from next to you. “oh. sorry, ‘toka.” she hums. the bed shakes and you hear shuffling noises. it all stops once she’s laying on her right side, facing you. you can barely see her, but you know she’s watching you with furrowed brows. “what happened with yuji while you two were gone?” she asks. you sense the worried quiver in her voice. you’re not one to have rebounds or meaningless hook-ups. especially not with your ex. she knows that. she wouldn’t really blame you though, with all that’s happening with tadashi. but, despite rationalizing the fact that you could have very well hooked-up with terushima, a very large part of her hopes that you hadn’t. it would crush yamaguchi if he found out, regardless of his rejection of you. she knows you’d come to regret it too.

you take a deep breath. “tadashi was there. with a girl. yuji… well… he offered to go somewhere a little quieter,,” hitoka inhales sharply at that, but doesn’t say anything. she lets you continue, giving you the benefit of the doubt. “and.. well we went to his car and.. he then offered to- uhm.. help.” there’s dread and tension in the air. anticipation. and not the good kind. there’s a pause before you continue. “we were going ot kiss. but.. i couldn’t do it.” you laugh dryly. “he noticed my apprehension before i did. it was like my body knew,” yachi lets out her breath, relieved. “it felt so wrong, to want to kiss someone that wasn’t tadashi. and i’ve only kissed him once! when we were kids!” it’s her turn to laugh now, but more out of shock and respite. “im glad. if anything, let’s just hope it makes that stupid boy realize what he’s given up.” you hum in confusion at that. “did you not see the way he was looking at you when you re-entered the bar stuck to teru’s arm?! he looked murderous. sometimes i forget that that boy can feel anger. it looks terrifying on him.”

silence falls upon the two of you. you find yourself drifting off to sleep before you hear three very loud knocks. from yachi’s apartment. the two of you sit up at the noise, hearts beating fast. you both patter to the door, not before grabbing a bat on the way to the entrance door. hitoka prepares herself before opening the door, you not too far away. she open the door a crack, the light from outside her apartment illuminating her face. you see the way the fluorescent bulbs in the hall accentuate the expressions of her face. a frown, quickly morphed to confusion, the panic melting away in an instant.

“where is she? please. i know she’s here.” you’d recognize his voice anywhere. it follows you wherever you go, in your mind and in your dreams, every single night. you make your way to the door. hitoka automatically moves aside, and you take her place in the doorway. there’s silence as you watch each other, as though it were the very first time and the millionth all at once.

“i’ll be back in a bit.” yachi announces, before grabbing her phone and her jacket, making her way out the door. the two of you watch her leave, the quiet in between you even more deafening that before. “come in.” you say. it’s extremely quiet, but he hears it anyway. making his way inside, he diffidently takes a seat on the couch, as though it were his first time here. he’s still in the clothes he wore at the party. you close the door and go to sit near him. you’re about to say something, though you’re not even sure what. you’re extremely thankful as he cuts you off-

“why were you with him?”

“he’s my friend?” you offer confusedly.

“but he’s your ex.” he knows it’s a silly argument. the dumbest, actually. he’s best friends with yachi, and they dated back in high school, too. in all honesty, he’s just upset. mind a jumbled mess of jealousy and hurt and anger and despair. you don’t offer anything to counter that, other than a knowing tilt of your head. you both know he was just talking to talk. after all, his friendship with yachi hasn’t changed one bit. not even after their break-up. you knew just as well as he did that it was a dumb assertion.

“you left with him.” he continues.

“and then i came back.” you counteract.

“yes, you did,” he scoffs lightly, “with him. on his arm.”

“and what’s it to you, huh? why do you care?” you ask, frustrated.

“you know exactly why i care,” he says with a clenched jaw. “i told you we couldn’t be together, but i never denied loving you.”

you laugh bitterly, with tears building up in your eyes, “fuck, you’re making this so difficult, ‘dashi.”

you bring your hand up to your forehead, massaging it. there’s a pause. it feels like it lasts forever. you know it’s coming.

“did you kiss him?”

you stare directly into his eyes, gaze never once wavering, “you should know by now, that my heart belongs to no one but you-”

“but did you kiss him?!” it’s rushed and frantic. his heart feels like it’s being clenched in his chest. his ribs closing in and squeezing, leaving no room to breathe or focus. he feels lightheaded, awaiting your answer. it’s painful and agonizing, not knowing what truly happened when you were gone and hurting, possibly in the arms of another.

“i wanted to,” you whisper. his heart stings. “i was so sick of crying over you. i wanted to forget about you. to forget that you told me that i was the love of your life, only to find you in the arms of another mere days after the fact, and i was finally given the chance to do so,” his head drops to his hands, elbows resting on his knees. his hair falls in between his fingers. he pulls, feeling the bite at every root. his heart feels like it’s being pierced with a million scorching needles. in agony.

“... but i couldn’t.” his head shoots back up. he watches you with glassy eyes and damp cheeks. “i wanted it to be you. i couldn’t fathom being with someone that wasn’t you.” you shuffle closer to him while holding back sobs, “why couldn’t you just let me love you?” he breathes shakily, “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

“but you did, ‘dashi. you hurt me so bad.”

he hates hearing it. it sounds so fucking harsh, his worst fear come true. he feels like he’s gonna throw up. “i’m sorry, angel. it was dumb and so stupid and i’ll never do it again because i can’t lose you. i thought i could do it. i thought i could be without you and bear it while you forgot about me to find someone else but i can’t do it. i want to be selfish. i want to be with you.” you’re close enough to rest your forehead on his. “i couldn’t forget about you even if i tried…” he brings his hands to your cheeks. his grip soft but firm, as though you were to slip from his grasp if he wasn’t careful. as though you would break. tadashi’s not letting that happen again.

“you’re my everything, angel.” he whispers against your lips.

“and you’re mine.”

thunder strikes outside as the sound of raindrops begin to patter against the windowsill, just like that day. the day that almost broke the two of you, never to be the same again.

he kisses you sweetly, a small smile on his lips.

maybe it’s because it was an excuse to care for you and be close to you. maybe it’s because he genuinely did find comfort in the rain. or maybe it brought back memories of the good ol’ days.

or maybe, it’s a reminder of what he has. what he can lose. what he almost did lose. and how fucking lucky he is to have you. his tiana. his evangeline.

he watches you from the living room entrance. his head it tipped back a little, a closed-lip grin on his face as the back of his head rests against the doorframe. you’re sitting on the couch, cuddled up in a blanket as you watch your favourite movie. the one you watched together as kids. princess and the frog.

he pushes himself off the doorframe and makes his way to you, handing you a mug of your favourite herbal tea. you look up at him with a grateful beam, and he can only duck down to place a loving kiss against your forehead.

yamaguchi takes his place on the couch next to you to watch the rest of the movie, but he doesn’t watch the movie. he just can’t take his eyes off of you.

you get prettier everyday, he thinks, as you mouth the words of the movie, knowing it all by heart.

he sighs contentedly.

tadashi smiles as he realizes he finally has the happily ever after he’s dreamed of since he was a child. the one he knew he wanted when he first watched the ending scene of princess and the frog, where tiana and naveen dance on the balcony in the moonlight.

he has his happily ever after.

and he has it with you.

only you.

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