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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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book 7 part 7 thoughts!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7, PART 7 OF THE MAIN STORY!!***

There are only 16 new chapters total in this update; with this, we are up to chapter 116 in book 7.

You should check out this livestream if you want a more part-by-part summarized translation of what's going on and/or if you want to hear the voices and watch the characters along with the commentary!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

As expected, we start off where we left off last update; Yuu, Grim, Silver, and Sebek have met up with the Shroud brothers. (Lilia is not with them.) According to Idia, they are still in a dream realm since Sebek is still in armor which he cannot bring back into reality. Ortho is present via a projection of some sort.

It's weird seeing Idia, Sebek, and Silver introducing themselves to one another in the main story and acting as though they've NEVER met before; they were all featured in Glorious Masquerade and interacted quite frequently. I'm aware that the main story and events don't share the same timeline, but it's still quite the jarring knowledge gap to witness.

ADFIHBADIYFBIOAFBEWQVUQOCAB SILVER AND SEBEK SUDDENLY CLOSE IN ON IDIA TO PROTECT HIM FROM SOMETHING THEY SENSE, HE CAN'T BREATHE... Waaaah, Idia... You're a princess squished between two pretty boy knights wwww

Idia and Ortho tell us that Malleus is expending a lot of energy to monitor Lilia in particular...? Ortho then goes on to explain that his "individuality" has become useful. Even though he cannot have a UM (okay, so confirmed that Ace is the last one to gain it shjdbahsdbasda), he is the only one capable of transferring his consciousness from one body to another. This is how he was able to reach out to Idia and the others!

Ortho tells them about his Cerberus Gear. We get a flashback of what he was up after getting suited up; he's flying over Sage's Island to collect information on Malleus's UM for STYX.

Thorns pierce through the clouds and Ortho battles them! STYX sends reinforcements (not personnel, but like technology/cannons?) to help Ortho. The thorns form a short of shield over Sage's Island, so he breaks through via a weak point. asdbhbaisdbals It's so unsettling to see the port looking so dark and depressing...

Ortho's mom reminds him he can only stay in there safely for 20 minutes. Aw, she cares so much about Or-kun 😭

It's going to take over several minutes (I think 17) just to analyze the complex nature of Malleus's magic and save it. While the analysis anchor does its job, Ortho has to protect it!

OH SHIT IT'S OB MALLEUS

ebfyvoFoaHhahaahahaHHhahaahah ORTHOS STARTS TALKING ABOUT A BUNCH OF TECH STUFF LIKE WIRELESS TO EXPLAIN TO MALLEUS HOW HE CHANGED BODIES, Malleus surprisingly understands???? I half expected him to combust on the spot from confusion... DBHLBSYOFOFYAAFIAFIL MALLEUS IS BEING DUNKED ON BY A CHILD, Ortho says that since magic is powered by imagination, Malleus cannot block Ortho's advances or force his new body under sleep since Malleus does not understand tech.

I can't believe him being shit with tech is actually relevant to the plot 💀

AEFHLBFBYFOVYFEQRUROQ OB MALLEUS PROCEEDS TO RESPOND WITH VIOLENCE, HE'S GOING TO DESTROY THE ANALYTICAL ANCHOR SO ORTHO DECIDES TO FIGHT BACK

RIP Or-kun, he could only resist for so long... his attacks have no effect in this domain where Malleus has complete control.

JUST 30 SECONDS BEFORE THE ANALYSIS ENDS, QUICK ORTHO STALL HIM BY SHIT TALKING MORE!!! I KNOW CHILDREN CAN BE SAVAGE, SO UNLEASH YOUR WRATH

HFBFYOAEOFYEEIAFL MALLEUS.?>??? ?? ? ?? ???? HE IMPLIED HE'S GOING TO KILL OFF ORTHO AND THEN GOES OFF (?) ON ONE OF HIS DOGGIE DRONES...

"Good night, little Shroud." You have to hear it for yourself, it sounds very ominous 💀 He really said he ain't above child murder, eh?

??? For a second Malleus froze and his shot missed? So Ortho decides on a strategic retreat with the second dog drone. NO MALLEUS ENDED 02 TOO, IT TOOK A BLOW FOR ORTHO WHILE HE RETRIEVES THE ANCHOR

We cut back to STYX, which is dedicating its resources to creating an opening in Malleus's barrier for Ortho to escape. He clears the barrier!!

Aaaaaaah, another cute moment for Shroud Mama! She and Shroud Papa collapse onto the floor in relief. He has sustained some damage, but his core is intact!

One line I really like from Malleus is him referring to Ortho and others as "uninvited guests" that he's going to chase off no matter what.

NOOOOO THEY CONFIRMED BOTH DOGGIE DRONES GOT MCMURDERED IN THERE OTL Never forgiving Malleus for this, fr (Shroud Mama says she can fix them though so we're all good!)

They tell Ortho "welcome back" and Ortho says "I'm back" 😭 AND THEY GROUP HUG

RUH-ROH

Shroud Papa says that Malleus's UM... reminds him of Grim's magic... WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN

STYX has support from Briar Valley, which should help with their analysis. However, the results so far are not looking good. According to Shroud Papa, the barrier is 99% impossible to destroy unless either Malleus dies OR Malleus chooses to lower the barrier himself.

It's not plausible for Mama to make enough Cerberus Gears for a whole army. Besides, if they they destroy the barrier, Shroud Mama theorizes that they may also accidentally destroy the consciousnesses of everyone on Sage's Island... so that's definitely not an option!

FJLDADBIAFSVYOFFEQFA ORTHOS UGGESTED TELLING MALLEUS "Your grandma is so sad" FROM OUTSIDE THE BARRIER TO CONVINCE HIM TO LOWER THE SHIELD........ . . . ....... . . .. .... .. . . . . .. . . ... . . LIKE IN THE OLD MOVIES

They're now looking into Idia's dream on a monitor? Ortho notices Idia's dorm room does not have Ortho's mainenance dock, so... um, he realizes that Idia must be dreaming about an alternate world where his little brother never passed.

Shroud Mama is going to try and "hack" into the dream spaces. AJAFSVOSvfvfefea SHE HAS A CUTE LITTLE GREMLIN GIGGLE??? She's very fired up because Malleus insulted mankind's best technology, saying it cannot stand up to his magic. (aslbhflasbifabfd THIS IS WHERE IDIA GETS IT FROM????????)

"It's rare to see Idia so happy." LDBHbiadib THIS BOY IS MAD DEPRESSED, LET HIM BE

"Isn't it time that everyone got tired of the dream world and want to return to reality?" No, Shroud Mama. I guarantee you that most TWST fans WANT to stay in Twisted Wonderland and don't want new content to stop coming out, this is our escapism :)

WAAAAAH ORTHO HE'S REPEATING THE LINE VIL TOLD HIM, THEY HAVE TO TRY BECAUSE NOT TRYING IS ALWAYS 0% BUT 0.001% HAS THE POSSIBILITY TO BECOME 100%

Shroud Papa warns Ortho that Idia may reject reality, and therefore "this" Ortho. He's concerned that this will put Ortho through a lot of emotional stress. Shroud Papa wants professionals (psychologists) to try and contact Idia instead of Ortho.

ADFILBAFIYAEGIYQEFBIAF ORTHO HAS SO MUCH FAITH IN HIS OLDER BROTHER, he says Idia would get hype about a cute robot boy trying to get in contact with him, this means he'll become a protagonist like in his light novels!

DNBHdsvyofwFTOwqihbyow8fS WE'RE GOING TO IDIA'S DREAM NOW, he pulled like 3 SSRs of his favorite character (of course he'd dream this, OF COURSE).

Video chat notif from Ortho???

OMG IT'S ROBOT ORTHO AND IDIA FREAKS OUT THINKING IT'S COSPLAY

Ortho reintroduces himself. "It's nice to meet you for the first time in 'this' world!" Idia starts to laugh and assumes it's Ortho's avatar for virtual chat, that kind of thing. Or maybe Ortho is talking about the plot of a new anime?

ILBFIBYADBFADBEFQFIPo; IDIA REPEATS THE EXACT LINES ORTHO SAID HE WOULD SAY, THAT HE'S THE CHOSEN ONE BEING CONTACTED BY A CUTE ROBOT BOY

Here's the breakdown... Idia gets a headache and finally realizes the truth. afhbBIfieeq;ofBHQEF;????? ?the DREMA ORTHO IS CALLING HIMAND TEELLING HIM THE REAL ORTHO IS A FAKE, DON'T LISTEN TO HIM (this is THE definition of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss).

DREAM!ORTHO TRIES TO PULL IDIA DEEPER INTO THE DREAM, TELLING HIM HE'S JUST SLEEPY FROM GAMING TOO MUCH SO GO BACK TO SLEEP

Oooh, interesting that RSA!Ortho still appears to be similar in body type to Robo!Ortho? I always assumed Ortho was small because Idia kept him "preserved" in the moment of death. Maybe the dream Ortho is just modelled after Robo!Ortho since that's what Idia's memories are familiar with.

Idia loops back around again to the start of his dream, where he is in ceremonial robes and Malleus approaches him. HERE COMES MALLEUS TO GASLIGHT HIS CLASSMATES AGAIN

adhfgyoafdodp THERE'S A LIGHT FROM THE SKY???? TSUMTSUMS???????? GOD?????? AND ANIME ON IDIA'S SIDE?????? OMG, here comes Ortho in his Cerberus Gear come to save the day! Idia recognizes STYX's emblem.

UH-OH, MALLEUSIS PISSED THAT ORTHO SURPRISED HIM TWICE"Stand down, you fools." MALEFICENT ENERGY IS OFF THE CHARTS

Idia recognizes Malleus as being in Overblot adhbafliafa AND THE SKY STARTS CRACKING because Ortho is not meant to exist in this dream. He basically goes against the canon www

Malleus teleports away (yeah, FUCK IDIA I guess) and leaves them to be swallowed by the abyss. Idia's being pulled into the darkness, and their mom's voice comes in warning Ortho to stay away before more damage occurs. Idia recognizes his mom's voice and remembers even more!!

Aw, Ortho promises to save his brother...

Idia is at the gates to the Underworld again? Phantom Ortho says Idia fell there and speaks to him kind of in a friendly manner. "It's too early for a reunion."

asfkjlnsUPBUADGPAGB IDIA IS SO CONFUSED, HE'S WONDERING WHY A PHANTOM IS CALLING HIM BIG BRO, HE STILL BELIEVES THAT HIS BROTHER GOES TO RSA AND THAT THIS IS A NIGHTMARE Idia is sooooo in denial...

Phantom Ortho reassures Idia that his death is not his fault, so please stop blaming himself... that Idia promised he would live without looking back, so he should look at the truth.

WHOOOOO HE REMEMBERS BOOK 6 FELLAS

AYO WE GOT IDIA CRYING AND IT'S ANIMATED, WE SEE THE TEARS ROLLING DOWN HIS CHEEKS, WE WINNIN'

"I'm always being saved by my little brothers (YES PLURAL, WEH), I'm such a pathetic big brother."

Ah, so now Phantom Ortho calls himself "King of the Underworld" says Idia cannot leave since it's not a good example for the rest of the phantoms. It's going to be the boss!

OOOOOH IDIA'S HAIR GOES FULL DIFFERENT COLOR + new facial expression (we previously only saw the hair change color in his Dorm Uniform Groovy and his Suitor Suit Groovy).

IDIA CALLS HIS FAMILY CURSE A BLESSING, he gets more power in areas with lots of blot since there is more fuel for him to burn. HASDIYASODBASID IDIA OBS TO FIGHT PHANTOM ORTHO??????? IS THIS A PREVIEW FOR OVERBLOT CARDS OR SOMETHING

They have the same battle lines about how they will be "free"...

IDIA'S CRINGE ERA RETURNSSSSSSSS (he's making those cringe sound effects of blowing things up) and claims the title of "King of the Underworld" (the same title given to players who own 10 cards of a particular character).

afhbabilfbialfi IDIA LAUGHS SO HARD HE CHOKES

He finally uses his UM to open the gates and escape, telling Phantom!Ortho he cannot stay there. PHANTOM!ORTHO LOVINGLY WISHES HIS BROTHER SAFE TRAVELS, AW "The whole universe is waiting for you."

Idia tries to wake up and hears Dream!Ortho's voice??? BUT IDIA IS FULLY AWAKE NOW, HE KNOWS IT'S SUCH A DREAM He has finally accepted Ortho's death AND calls both the robot brother and the dead brother as his "brotherS"

Idia points out all the discrepancies in the dream... adfbilasdibalbiaflb I LOVE HOW EVERYONE KEEPS CALLING RSA A "SHINY" SCHOOL, Idia's all like, "No WAY is my little brother going to a school like that!"

THE DREAM ORTHO PANICS AND BEGS IDIA TO LISTEN TO HIM BADSBILADIAIDVFADIL IDIA TELLS THE DREAM ORTHO "Sorry, I don't like anyone other than anime/game characters calling me onii-chan!" IBRO, YOU'RE OUTTING YOURSELF LIEK THIS????????? ? ????? ????

He plots revenge on the person that would dare show him this disgusting dream, he's ready to FILE A COMPLAINT to them! (Watch out, Draconia, this otaku is coming for YOUR ASS) sayusdbyosfvayf What's with Malleus pissing off big bros with dead little bros...

Idia finally reunites in his dream with Robo!Ortho and apologizes for the hurtful things he said... Ortho talks about the adventures he has been on + explains what has been going on. Basically, they reconcile without a problem!

After all the summary, Idia first comments on how shocked he is that their mom hacked into his computer 🤡 Yeah, Idia... she saw everything... Ortho tells him it's okay, she didn't comment! BUT THAT MAKES IDIA EVEN MORE UPSET, "it's the worst thing for a male high school student!" It just might make him Overblot a THIRD time www

I can't believe THIS of all things is what makes Idia seek revenge on Malleus... (HE SAYS HE WANTS MALLEUS TO CRY AND BEG FOR FORGIVENESS)

Idia is really out here about to doxx Malleus huh 💀

I honestly was not expecting to cry this update (since I was thinking it would just be a flashback about how Ortho "woke up" Idia) but NOPE, I just guess every update now is going to elicit tears... I've always been highly invested in the Shroud brothers' storyline, so I'm really happy they touched on it again here and enhanced it by giving us more Shroud Mama and Papa, as well as Phantom!Ortho. It was sweet to see Idia recognize Phantom!Ortho as his brother too instead of completely renouncing him or "replacing" him with Robo!Ortho. ihbdiladqeofqbeafnasi The updates are making me like Idia more, but in the same way you'd like a character for being pathetic... Man made SO many dog chew toy nosies this time 😭

I did not expect Malleus to be so... pro-child murder/j He will stop at nothing to keep everyone under his thumb, and that's so awful. There was so much gaslighting in this part as well, even if Malleus is not directly doing it himself. The fact that his magic can just... do that on its own is... It sort of gives me the vibes of trying to enforce a toxic kind of positivity on everyone, which in of itself has its roots in his own insecurities and inability to cope with loss. He's projecting that onto everyone else, and that has very scary results as we see here.

There were a lot of memes pre-book 7 about how Malleus's inability to understand technology would come to bite him in the ass later, and all of those fans can now feel vindicated because WELL, IT CAME TRUE.

And last, but not least, I'm shocked at Idia's reason for wanting to fistfight Malleus 🤡 BRO'S MAD FR FR... WHAT MUST HIS MOM HAVE SEEN ON HIS COMPUTER TO MAKE HIM SO AGGRO... WAS IT LEWDS OR SOMETHING???????? ?? ? ??? ?????? ?? Glad that Idia is on our side now, this is an excellent place to leave off on for next time!!

#twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #Idia Shroud #Diasomnia #Ortho Shroud #Yuu #Sebek Zigvolt #Lilia Vanrouge #Silver #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #Ignihyde #Maleficia Draconia #Maleficent #Grim #book 7 part 7 spoilers

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back2bluesidex · 8 months

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Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 2 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI) (not in this chapter)

Warnings: Mentions of school bullying, Hoseok is so attractive (this chapter is basically me simping over Hoseok), Reader is insecure.

Word count: 4.4k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: The chapter starts with JK's pov and changes into the reader's but it's nothing too tough to understand. I hope you guys like it. Please hit me up on askbox and let me know how is it.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:-

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

His eyes drift towards the window.

What time should it be now? 10 am? 11 am? He doesn’t know. Not that he is in a rush for anything. There is absolutely no haste to disappear before prying cameras sneak into his private space.

He should be at peace, a weird tranquility that is supposed to be easy. But deep down Jungkook is very much unsettled.

As he eyes the wide blue sky out of Jiwon’s bedroom window, his mind reels back to you. The last day he saw you, the way you were standing with a ring in your hands, the way he broke your heart and the way you marched out of his life with merely a goodbye. You didn’t ask him why he fell out of love with you, nor were you curious enough about what made him fall in love with another woman.

“What does she have that I don’t? Why can’t I be enough for you? How can you be so cruel?” These are the words Jungkook expected to hear from you when he dropped the bomb. But instead he heard you wishing him a good life and walking away from him without a single complaint.

Were you always ready for the blow? Were you preparing yourself to let him go? He can’t tell. But no matter how much he tries he can’t stop wondering what you are upto now. How have you been spending your nights or how are you coping up with the pain he has provided you with?

Jiwon scoots her body closer to Jungkook’s. Her nose brushes on his forearm. Jungkook freezes. Is he really thinking of you lying awake in his new girlfriend’s bed after breaking up with you for the same woman?

He is being unfair to both of you and Jiwon.

His eyes close on their own accord.

When he opens those again, Jiwon is already smiling up at him.

“Good Morning, handsome.” she says sweetly.

“It’s almost noon, I believe.” Jungkook chuckles, turning on his side, facing Jiwon fully.

“Really? Then we better leave the bed now. You can wash up while I make coffee for you.” Jiwon kisses on his cheek as she sits up.

“No. It’s fine. I have to leave.” Jungkook sits up too.

“Why? You don’t have any schedule today. Do you?” Jiwon pouts.

“Not really. Actually.. my house is a mess and I wanted to clean up before I get busy.” Jungkook reasons.

“We can eliminate these problems, you know?” Jiwon holds his hand, looking a little shy and sheepish.

“Umm? I didn’t get you?” Jungkook is confused. He has no idea what his new girlfriend has to suggest for his house chore.

“I mean… Why don’t we move in together? It will be easy for both of us. We can take turns on the chore and spend more time together when both of us are free? What do you say?” Jiwon’s eyes are full of hope. But Jungkook doesn’t know what to say.

“I- Jiwon, I think it’s too early. We will have to talk to the agency as well.” Jungkook runs a hand through his already disheveled hair.

“Why will we have to talk to the agency? They already know about us. All we need to do is to inform them once we are ready.” Jiwon holds his hand tighter.

That’s the thing. Jungkook is not ready yet. Your words ring in the back of his head.

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?”

He sighs.

Yes, he loves Jiwon but he doesn’t know if he is ready to share a space with her yet. Especially when he left you behind in the excuse of his career and prying paparazzies.

Jungkook concludes that it’s his guilt that is resisting him from going too far with Jiwon just yet. So he decides to wait, to take a little time to think more deeply about what he actually wants, not what he wants to want for the sake of his girlfriend.

“Jiwon, I don’t want to rush anything. We can take it slow and understand each other better before moving in. Let’s give each other a little more time, okay?” He says with a tight lipped smile.

Jiwon’s face falls a bit but she nods in understanding.

“You must admit, the guardian of your new counselee is too hot.” Miseon mumbles as she chews down a spoonful of bibimbap, “he seems quite young too. Must have gotten married to his high school sweetheart or something?”

You narrow your eyes at her, “If you are trying to dig down his personal information then let me remind you that-”

“Yeah. Yeah I know. Confidential information and all. I was just curious. I mean usually both of the parents or mothers visit with their children. It’s probably the first time I saw only the dad coming in, that too, looking like a snack.” Your friend looks up at you with a quizzical gaze as if she wants you to validate what she just commented.

Yes. Hoseok is certainly hot and attractive. But what gripped you more is the way he is determined to be a good father to Sua, despite the complicated fatherhood he faced. The concerned look on his handsome face flashes in your mind.

“Y/N?” Hoseok calls your name as he stands up from his seat, getting ready to leave your cabin.

“Yes?” you respond.

“Sua.. she will be fine, right?” If you are not wrong then you hear Hoseok’s voice trembling a bit.

“I will be able to answer that after two more sessions I suppose.” you smile apologetically.

“Yeah. Yeah of course. I am sorry. I- I am just very worried.” His eyes drop to stare at the floor.

“Which is only natural. There is no need to apologize.” You voice. Pausing a little bit, you continue, “Sua seems to be more mature than the kids of her age. She is quite closed up as well. So, it is possible for her to hide some sort of things she is going through. I need to win her trust first to let her open up to me but-”

“But?” Hoseok grows impatient.

“But that is going to take some time. Especially because I don’t think she liked me. She might refuse to come back for the next session.” You place carefully.

“Then? What do you suggest doing in that case?” Hoseok questions.

“I suggest outdoor therapy. Spending time with the counselee and their guardians in a place they like to visit together occasionally or frequently. And I also suggest Friday afternoons for counseling. Kids tend to be in a better mood and far more approachable when they are in their pre-weekend glory.” Your suggestion seems to put Hoseok at ease. “You already have my number. You can text me the place and time once you decide. Although I prefer the slot after lunch.”

He nods, “Great then. I will see you on Friday… after lunch.”

Hoseok’s dark eyes bores into yours once again as he steps towards you.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” he extends one of his veiny hands.

You slip your hand into his, intertwining the muscles in a shake, “Likewise, Hoseok.”

Miseon claps her hands in front of your face, shaking you out of the thoughts of Mr. Jung, “Hey mate! Where are you so lost?”

“What? Yeah? Sorry, I was… thinking something.” you reply, jabbing your spoon in your bowl of bibimbap.

“No. Don’t tell me you were lost in the thoughts of your douchebag ex-boyfriend.” Your friend regards you with fake anger in her eyes.

“Ugh no! It was completely different.” you groan. Now that you realize, it’s probably the first time since your breakup that you have gone so long without having to let Jungkook’s thoughts seep inside your head. Meeting the Jungs was one thing but to keep on thinking of them even after they left your work place hours ago, is a completely different matter.

And it’s a very welcoming change.

You sigh, “Don’t call him douchebag. He is not that bad.”

Miseon’s eyes go wide at your response, “What is wrong with you? He left you for another girl, Y/N! How can you defend him like this?”

You sigh, closing your eyes, “I am not defending him, Miseon. Some things are not just meant to be, you know? No matter how much time you invest, some relationships are not meant to last. Just like you can’t help falling in love with someone, you can’t help falling out as well. And he fell out of love with me, he found someone more suitable for him. What’s wrong with that? I should appreciate him that he at least didn’t go behind my back and cheat on me. Yeah, whatever Jungkook did, did not hurt me any less but that does not make him a bad person. Everyone deserves to be happy, be loved, be in love… so does he. I just- I just need to accept it.” Saying these words out loud really lightens your heart. Maybe today can be the first step towards your healing, just as you thought at the beginning of the day.

“But what about your happiness? What about you being loved, being in love?” Miseon places her question.

“I don’t really know. At this point I don’t even know if I deserve to be loved or not. Maybe there is something wrong with me, isn’t that the reason none of my relationships were successful?” You smile at her with eyes full of tears.

“Cut the crap. You- I will strangle you to death if you say stuff like this ever again.” Miseon jerks a fork in your direction making you laugh a little.

“Calm down, you angry woman.” you joke but your heart still feels heavy beyond measure.

Everything about weekdays is fine.. Apart from the fact that you have to come back to a huge and lonely home.

It’s Wednesday and you sigh at the thought of entering your condo with absolutely nothing waiting for you. The thought burdens you, saddens you and you almost feel jealous of the newly married couple who just moved in last week.

You punch the key-code in, which is, by the way, your and Jungkook’s birthdates combined.

Placing the bag of groceries, you take a seat on the couch. The soft material soothes your aching back right away. You lean your head on the headrest, stare down at the cream-colored cloth of the couch, and caress it lightly as if caressing fragile memories.

“Jungkook! What is wrong with you?” you sigh in resignation, throwing your purse on the couch.

“Nothing.” He replies heading straight to the kitchen.

“Don’t avoid it. You have been sulking all the way home. Did I offend you somehow?” you head towards your boyfriend.

Jungkook chugs down water, crushes the plastic bottle and disposes of it in the trashcan so ferociously that you can’t help but be more and more amused with each passing moment.

The moment he is about to exit the kitchen, you come and stand in front of him, “Jungkook, what is it?”

Jungkook takes in a sharp inhale, avoiding his eyes from yours.

“Who was that guy?” His voice is low, decorated with a buzz that suggests his annoyance.

“Which guy?” There were a lot of guys at your reunion party and you don’t know which one Jungkook saw. Especially because he was waiting at the exit inside the car.

“The one that saw you off with a hug.” He grits these words through his teeth.

“O-Oh.. that’s Taeho, one of my batch mates. We used to be really close.” you gulp at the face Jungkook is making at your response.

“Really close huh? Is that why he hugged you so intimately? Wrapping up your waist, burying his entire fucking face on your neck? Just like a lover would? Just like I would?”

Jungkook is jealous. And jealous Jungkook is not a good news. So you clear your voice as you choose your words carefully.

“I admit that he was a little touchy. But he has always been like this with everyone. I promise, Jungkook, he didn’t have any other intention.” you reply calmly.

“Really? Are you sure?” your boyfriend starts backing you up on the kitchen counter and soon you feel the cold countertop through the material of your dress.

“Yes. hundred percent.” Jungkook’s tattooed arm comes to rest on one of your cheeks.

“Good.” his body presses onto yours. “You know I love you, right? I am sorry for my behavior earlier. I just can’t see you with anyone else. What if they steal you from me?” Jungkook’s expression softens and an adorable pout takes over his lips.

You giggle a little, “I know. And you, too, should know that nobody can take me away from you unless you give up on me.”

“I am never gonna give up on you.” whispering these words, Jungkook brings his lips to yours. Locking two pairs of the soft pillowy muscles as if to seal the deal.

A lone tear rolls down your cheek as you stare at the kitchen counter at present. Jungkook gave up on you and your love so easily, so fast and so readily that you didn’t even get the chance to ask him why and how. He looked so dejected the moment you pulled out the ring, that you had to take a step back out of embarrassment. You felt like you were throwing yourself at him when he was not at all willing to look at you properly.

You are about to reach for the tissue box kept on the coffee table but you feel your work phone buzzing inside your coat pocket. It’s a text from an unknown number, probably from one of your new patients.

“Hi.” “Seodaemun Children Park, Friday, 3:30 pm.” “- Jung Hoseok.”

If you are excited for an outdoor therapy, then you are not showing it on your face and absolutely not with your dress.

You decided to keep it casual with a pair of denim boyfriend jeans and a lavender-colored knitted top. You check your face a little before getting out of your car. You look fine. Not that you want to look extra pretty or something, it’s just that you don’t want to convey your internal troubles through your face.

A gush of fresh wind hits you as soon as you step out of the stuffy interior of your car. And you are smiling, without even noticing.

You decide to take a moment to admire the beauty of fall, the light chill in the wind and the dimmed sun heading in the west. Maybe Miseon was right. You should have taken a walk around your neighborhood instead of drowning yourself in bottles of Soju back in the days of your pity party.

Sighing to yourself, you pull out your phone from your purse to call Mr. Jung.

He receives it just after the first ring.

"Hello, Mr. Jung. This is Dr. Y/N. I have arrived at the park." You speak into the device.

"Hey, Y/N. Just walk straight from the entrance and you will see a huge fountain. We are sitting at a bench right beside that." His voice comes out thicker through the speaker of your phone but you can feel the cherriness in it regardless.

"Okay." You reply briefly as you cut the call.

Unlike you, Mr. Jung has chosen to dress formally. A dark blue three piece suit paired with equally majestic dark Chelsea boots signify an aura of authority in him. The attorney badge, sitting right on his suit, makes him look even sexier all together. He sits cross-legged, a sight that could take anyone's breath away.

You stare at him from a distance, unable to keep your eyes off of the man for some mysterious reasons. However, you compose yourself before it's too late and look around for Sua.

She's on the seesaw. She has her signature pigtails with adorable pink bows matching her pink dress perfectly. But the best thing is, she's smiling widely, which makes her look so damn cute. This father-daughter duo could kill people with their looks alone.

You start walking towards Mr. Jung but Sua sees you before him. Her expressions turn somber as she registers you walking towards her dad.

"Mr. Jung." You breathe out, standing beside the bench.

"Y/N." He stands up and greets you with the most beautiful smile you have ever had the opportunity to witness. And suddenly you find it hard to breathe.

"I thought you agreed to call me by my name, which is Hoseok, in case you don't remember." He teases you with a playful grin.

Your cheeks hit up with embarrassment "Ah, yeah. I'm sorry. I tend to be forgetful. But I didn't forget your name, Hoseok."

"That's good. I would have been seriously offended if you did." He teases you again, gesturing you to sit beside him.

“How is her mood today?” you question, sitting down beside him while keeping a respectable distance between your bodies.

“Gloomy as always. But she brightened up as soon as I told her we were going to grab some ice-cream here in the park.” Hoseok replies, staring at Sua.

“Did you see her face turning grey again as I walked in?” You continue staring at Sua as she climbs off the seesaw and starts walking towards the bench.

“Umm.. yeah. She is usually very friendly but then again she is not quite herself these days.” Hoseok sighs.

“Hmm noted.” you mumble.

“Hey my little girl.” Hoseok coos as Sua runs into his embrace. She pulls his collar with her little hands lowering him down to her level to whisper something in his ear.

“What is she doing here?” you hear her say. It’s impossible to resist your laugh at this cutely angry baby who is very displeased at your presence.

“Sua. Where are your manners?” Hoseok scolds her.

“Hey. it’s alright.” you stop him, without realizing that you have reached for his arm in the process and placed your right hand there.

Hoseok’s eyes shift towards your hold and you remove your hand as swiftly as possible, mumbling a quick apology.

“I didn’t mind a bit.” Hoseok whispers. There is an undertone in his voice and again you don’t know what it is.

You have never been as clueless as you are about Hoseok.

Reading people has always been one of your greatest abilities, even far before you got into psychotherapy. Understanding what’s going inside someone’s head is nothing too hard for you. But with Hoseok it’s different. You feel exposed under his dark gaze when you should be the one to make him feel intimidated with you.

The way he looks at you, makes you feel like he knows exactly how troubled you are, how lonely you feel and how broken you have become.

Realizing you have been lost in Hoseok’s eyes for far too long, you avert your gaze to Sua.

“Hey Sua. Annyeong.” you give her a big smile but she remains unfazed.

“Annoyeng.” her small voices is sounds whiny.

You sigh. She is harder to approach than you assumed.

“You know my friends just ditched me. They went shopping without telling me that they had changed their plans. I was feeling so down, so I called daddy and asked him if I could see you.” you can feel Hoseok’s eyes still trained on your profile.

“Really? Your friends went without you?” from her voice you know she relates. And that is the main reason why you chose this lie.

“Yup. But it’s alright if you don’t want me to be here. I will-” You start standing up faking to leave the park.

Sua cuts you off, “No. You can be here.”

Great. That’s what you wanted all along, “Really? I can?”

She nods.

Your eyes divert to Hoseok again, who is staring at you with amusement in his eyes.

“Then do you want to go swinging with me?” You ask the little girl pointing towards the pair of swings a little far away.

She looks at Hoseok for permission and when he gives her an affirmative sign, she mumbles a little yes. So you extend your hand towards her, hold her and walk her towards the swing.

“You know, I used to be so afraid of swings when I was little.” you are staring at the ground but you can feel Sua’s eyes at you.

“Why?” she asks. You feel a sense of accomplishment as she is finally interacting with you.

“One of my classmates pushed me so hard that I flew off the swing and ended up hurting both of my knees.” You laugh a little, “I didn’t go near swings for a long time after that.”

“And now? You are not afraid of swings anymore?” She stops her swing rendering it out of motion. Her full concentration is on you.

“No. I grew up so tall. See.” You show yourself off by expanding your legs.

“So.. when I grow up tall I won’t be afraid of Jaemin anymore?” she looks up at you, her expression is filled with fear. You know you need to be more careful from here.

“Umm.. that depends on why you are afraid of Jaemin. Is he… your classmate?” you speak softly.

Sua diverts her attention to her shoes, kicking dirt and avoiding looking into your eyes. She stays silent for a moment and you don’t push her to talk.

“Yes. He- he is a bad boy.” her soft voice quivers.

Another case of school bullying. Most of the teenagers you counsel are either a victim of school bullying or an unhealthy domestic atmosphere. But this is the first time you are counseling a kid so small troubled with bullying. Usually kids of Sua’s age are more likely to tease each other over small things but bullying is a complex concept. Hence, counselling Sua may not be an easy task.

“Does he annoy you a lot?” you place carefully enough so that you don’t trigger her unintentionally.

“Yes.” her eyes are still trained on her shoes.

Nodding to yourself, you decide not to push the conversation any further. Sua already looks down enough and you don’t want to ruin her Friday afternoon any more.

“Sua, what do you like more, chocolate or vanilla? I like chocolate more.” You say, trying to brighten up her mood.

Her expression changes within a heartbeat, “Me too. Me too. I like chocolate a lot.”

“Then should we have some ice-cream?” you extend your hand towards her.

This time Sua doesn’t wait for her father’s confirmation, she grabs your hand as you two hop off the swings and walk towards Hoseok, who is currently busy on the phone.

He smiles up at both of you as he speaks into his phone, “No. not tonight. I am busy. I’ll call you later.” and he cuts the call.

That sounded pretty much like the cancellation of a booty-call but whatever it is, it’s not your business.

“Hey you girls. Did you guys have fun?” he asks, taking Sua into his embrace again.

“Yes. We did. Right sua?” you giggle.

Sua nods giggling back.

“But daddy, you promised to buy me ice-cream, why haven’t you bought it yet?” she pouts adorably and you giggle again.

“Pabo! It would have melted.” Hoseok laughs at her daughter.

“Oh. That’s right.” Sua exclaims, wondering hard. Even before you know it, you are laughing out loud. A fit of laughter escapes your throat at the cuteness of this father-daughters duo. The frequency of your laughter increases when two of them join you. Suddenly you realize it’s been an embarrassingly long time since you have laughed this loud, this freely, this genuinely. Suddenly, you feel good, you feel free.

“Do you think there’s something to be seriously worried about?” Hoseok asks, walking you towards your car. Sua fell asleep right after having a bowl full of ice-cream. Hoseok tugged her into a blanket and put her into the car seat before walking you to yours.

“It will be too early for me to say anything but I will get there soon. She is a kid after all, I can’t rush with her. I can’t dig into her fears unless she is comfortable enough. That will do more harm.” You come to stand in front of your car.

Hoseok nods.

“Yes. You’re right.” he murmurs.

You swear to all the gods above there, they really took time to craft this man. His sharp jawline is a perfect contrast to his soft features. His dark brown eyes glint under the setting sun. And in this dimming light, he looks like a dream.

And maybe you are dreaming because there is no way he is stepping close to you now, raising his hand, bringing it closer to your face and touching you. But then his fingers brushes on the skin of your neck, gently picking something off from it. You feel goosebumps all across your skin and at the same time your face feels like it’s on fire, bazing red and hot.

Fuck. You are deprived of touches for so long.

“Loose thread.” Hoseok whispers.

“O-oh. Thanks. This top keeps losing threads.” an useless TMI.

“It does the job though. You look really pretty.” he whispers again and with that heart-breakingly beautiful smile of his.

That’s it. You need to run away as soon as possible.

“Ah, thanks. You are kind. Bye. See you next Friday.” you bow a little.

He takes a step back without dimming his smile, “Bye. I will be waiting. Drive safe, Y/N.”

You finally find your breath when he turns his back and walks away from you. This is unexplainable, this is not ethically right, you should be heartbroken, and you should stay miles away from stupid feelings but you just can’t stop admiring Hoseok. Currently you are more confused and clueless than you have ever been. And you absolutely don’t know what to do with it.

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mybutcheredtongue · 4 months

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x reader

CHAPTER NINE (see full series list here)

1993

You sip your tea, actually up in time for breakfast for once. Because of the night-time nature of your subject, you tend to go to bed later than the rest of the school and wake up later. It means you're especially close to the kitchen's house elves, as they often prepare you breakfast for when you eventually do get up. Especially Bitsy. You've taken to buying her film for her camera every Christmas, but it doesn't last long as she takes pictures of everything, including you.

"You know, I had the strangest dream last night," you say to Remus beside you.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm, I was in a sort of muggle circus tent, right? But it was on fire. And there was this guy there, wearing like a weird three-foot tall wizard's hat that morphed into this odd kind of wig afterwards," you recall. "And then, I kinda thought, 'hey, maybe I should use my wand to put out this fire' but instead of putting it out I transported it to Madam Puddifoot's."

Remus blinks at you, and you try and stop the smile from appearing on your face.

"You know what? That is a strange dream," he responds, shaking his head and you laugh.

"I know! It was so weird."

"Oh, I actually read something about dreams recently," Remus says thoughtfully. "Apparently they reflect things going on in your life."

You snort. "What, my desire to set Madam Puddifoot's on fire? I mean, I suppose it's not wrong..."

There's loud noise at the Gryffindor table, even students from other houses going over to it. You lean your head to the side to see Harry sitting at the table, grinning proudly at his Firebolt. You chuckle, looking down the table at Professor McGonagall.

"He got his broom back, so?" You say and she nods.

"Yes, couldn't find anything wrong with it, thankfully. And I must say, never have I seen a student so happy with something I have told him," she remarks and you grin.

"A Gryffindor win this year, perhaps?"

"Oh, I do hope so."

"You would only be so lucky," Snape says snidely beside her and you scoff.

"Don't need luck with that broom, right Severus?" You say cheekily and he raises his eyebrows disdainfully at you.

"At least my house have skill, and do not rely on their broomsticks to do the work for them."

"You're just jealous 'cause you want a spin on the Firebolt, Severus," you tease, returning to your breakfast.

Later, you sit with Remus in the Quidditch stands, looking out at the pitch in the cool, clear air.

"Merlin, I hope they win. I'm after placing a five-galleon bet with Filius that we win," you say, watching as the two captains shake hands and Madam Hooch blows her whistle to set off.

"You can't say 'we'," Remus says with a sigh. "We're supposed to be impartial, remember?"

"Ah, you hardly think any of these teachers are impartial, do you?" you laugh. "Sure even Dumbledore leans to Gryffindor just a little."

Lee Jordan's voice can be heard over the stands.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt which Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship — "

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what is going on in the match?" interrupts McGonagall's voice.

"Right you are, Professor — just giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a built in auto-brake and — "

"Jordan!"

"Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal..."

Remus chuckles beside you, nudging you with his elbow. "Mr Jordan reminds me of someone."

You roll your eyes, laughing. "I can't say that you're too far off...he can definitely give me a run for my money. I think my title of Best Commentator in the History of the World is in danger."

"Oh? And where were you given this prestigious award? The Academy of Modesty?"

You cackle, throwing your head back in laughter. "You witty bastard."

You watch as Harry zooms past on his broomstick, the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, tailing after him.

"Gryffindor lead by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now. See it turn — Chang's Comet is just no match for it. The Firebolt's precision-balance is really noticeable in these long — "

"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

Harry suddenly dives to the ground and you hold your breath, thinking he's seen the Snitch, but then he pulls up sharply and heads for the Ravenclaw end of the pitch, accelerating. Cho Chang follows suit, before she lets out a scream and points at three tall, black, hooded Dementors looking up at Harry.

You and Remus both turn to each other before quickly turning back to the match, just in time to see Harry produce his wand and yell, "Expecto patronum!"

A large silver stag erupts from Harry's wand and throws itself at the Dementors and knocks them off their feet —

Wait, their feet?

As you squint at the dark figures, you make out four young boys tangled in dark cloaks and click your tongue in disappointment, just as Harry grabs the Snitch and the stadium explodes into cheers.

You and Remus stand and leave your seats like the rest of the supporters, the Gryffindors rapidly streaming onto the pitch in celebration.

"You saw what I saw, right?" you ask.

"If you saw four boys playing dress-up as Dementors, then yes."

You find the four boys, immediately recognizing the faces of Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Marcus Flint.

"Well, well, well," you tut, hands on your hips as you look down at the heap of Slytherins. "Bet you regret doing that now, eh boys?"

They groan collectively and soon enough, McGonagall approaches with an expression of pure fury on her face. She starts to yell, and then Remus arrives with Harry in tow, and you don't miss the look on Harry's face at the sorry site in front of him.

"An unworthy trick!" McGonagall shouts. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

You grin at Harry, whispering, "Excellent Patronus, Harry!"

He beams proudly.

An great victory for Gryffindor indeed, especially considering you're five-galleons richer as you return to your bedroom.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Sharp knocking on your door jolts you awake that night, and you quickly swing your legs over and out of your bed to answer the incessant knocking. Dubh meows angrily at the interruption of her sleep, as if she doesn't sleep the whole day anyway.

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." you quickly leave your bedroom and enter your small office, unlocking the door and swinging it open. "Minerva?"

"Sirius Black has broken into the school again," she tells you quickly. "Ronald Weasley said he was standing over him with a knife not too long ago."

You feel your mouth drop, unable to form any cohesive sentences as your brain tries to wrap around the information you've just gotten. "What?"

She nods, a grim look on her face. "I am terribly sorry about this...but I do need to check your room."

You nod wordlessly, opening the door for her to step in. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead..."

McGonagall does a quick sweep of your office and bedroom, stopping to give Dubh a brief few pets before she returns to your side at the door, shaking her head.

"Nothing here, of course," she says. "Will you accompany me in my search of the rest of the castle?"

You give her a confused look. "Are you sure? I thought Dumbledore doesn't want me to be involved in any searches like this...lest I sabotage it."

McGonagall scoffs. "I trust you. I know you are not stupid enough to let him into the castle, let alone let him out of your sight if you had. "

You give her a small smile. "Thanks." You grab the keys to your room and step outside, closing it behind you and locking it firmly. "Alright, let's go..."

You walk down the hallway together, wands shining light and at the ready. "How the bloody hell did he get into Gryffindor Tower? Did he attack Sir Cadogan too?"

McGonagall kisses her teeth, shaking her head in frustration. "No. Neville Longbottom was so incredibly foolish he wrote down the whole week's passwords and then left them lying around for anyone to find."

You sigh. "Oh, Neville...poor, forgetful Neville."

You scour the halls together, occasionally passing Professors Vector and Flitwick on their own search, but end up finding no trace of Sirius anywhere.

You bid goodbye to McGonagall and return to your room. As you unlock the door, you half expect to find him on the other side, but when you open it there's no one there, just your desk, messily covered with parchment and quills.

You return to your bed, but can't sleep at all so you choose to sit up and read more of the book you've been reading lately. Dubh stretches, jumping up onto your bed to nestle herself in your lap, purring softly. You pause to reach out and scratch her ears, before returning to your book.

Why was Sirius standing over Ron Weasley with a knife? It just doesn't make sense to you. You really are beginning to think he did truly go mad. And there's no way Ron dreamt it because Sir Cadogan confirmed that he did let him in...so why? Why would he do that? He wasn't actually going to murder an innocent boy like that, was he? He wasn't going to really take someone's life just like that, was he?

You reach the end of your page and realise that your eyes are just looking at the words and not actually taking them in. So finally, you step out of your bed and choose to do what you always do when you can't sleep: stargaze.

You shrug on a warm hoodie and a pair of slippers, grab your wand and leave. Dubh decides to follow and the two of you make your way up the Astronomy Tower. You sit beside the railing, legs dangling out over the edge as you grip the railing, looking up into the dark sky above. Dubh wanders around the room, sniffing various objects and rubbing up against them, before eventually she settles on curling up beside you and closing her eyes.

It's a clear night thankfully, and you can see all the twinkling stars perfectly. Beautiful, flaming objects of gas that are millions and billions of light years away from you. It's crazy to think that you are just one small, near-imperceptible speck on the ever-growing canvas of the universe. It's what drew you to astronomy in the first place. The study of space, because that's all it is. Space. That idea that, really, nothing matters at all. The world does not revolve around you. It never has, and it never will.

It's something that's always fuelled you to stop worrying about things. Why spend your time on this earth, your beautiful one-in-an-infinity chance to live, worrying about things? Though you say that, you can't help but worry anyway. You worry about Sirius, you worry about your friends, your family, your students, your godson, your cat, your job. Because even though the world doesn't revolve around you, your world revolves around the things and people you love.

A thin line of light streaks through the sky and you silently wish for peace from the thoughts that trouble you.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Security is noticeably tightened around the castle the next day. Filch is boarding up every crack and mouse hole in the castle; Flitwick teaches the front doors to recognise a picture of Sirius; and with Sir Cadogan sacked and the Fat Lady restored, big security trolls now patrol around her portrait, grunting at each other and comparing the size of their clubs.

You miss breakfast again, and tickle the pear on the fruit painting outside the kitchen, stepping inside quickly. The house elves all look up and greet you, immediately setting to work on something for your breakfast. Bitsy runs up to you excitedly, camera swinging around her neck.

"Hello, mistress!" she squeaks, holding up her camera. "Say 'cheers'!"

"Cheers...?" you say quizzically and there's a flash from Bitsy's camera.

A photo slowly emerges out the end of the camera and she shakes it excitedly, thrusting it into your face. Sure enough, there you are, mouthing the word 'cheers' with a confused expression.

You chuckle lightly, pushing the photo down out of your eye line gently. "Lovely, Bitsy. You could be a professional photographer at this rate!"

She grins wide, her big brown eyes twinkling. "Thank you, mistress!"

"Oh, and the word is 'cheese', not 'cheers', Bitsy," you say with a small laugh and she lets out a loud "Oh!".

Then you're presented with a tray of breakfast from another house elf, and you accept it gratefully as the elf bows. You sit down at a small table, tucking into a breakfast of fruit, pancakes and a great mug of tea.

You drain the mug, though you find you haven't got much of an appetite and give the house elves in front of you an apologetic look. "I'm awfully sorry, but my appetite just isn't there. Thank you all very much."

Bitsy bows with a smile. "That's okay, mistress! Bitsy is happy to help!"

"Bitsy is not the only house elf that prepared mistress's breakfast," another elf says with a scowl.

You chuckle lightly, smiling. "Don't worry, I am well aware. Thank you very much."

You turn to leave but are stopped by Bitsy. "Oh, mistress, the Headmaster told Bitsy to tell you he wants to see you in his office! He also said he really likes Bubbling Bonzies!"

You raise your eyebrows, nodding. "Oh, right. Okay. Thanks, Bitsy."

You leave, knowing well what Dumbledore wants to see you about. It's certainly not a raise in your pay, anyway. As you move through the castle, you pass Ron Weasley standing with Harry and relaying his chilling tale to a few second-year girls.

" — and I saw him standing over me, like a skeleton...with loads of filthy hair...holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches..."

You continue walking past them, shaking your head, and it's not long before you arrive outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "Bubbling Bonzies," you say to the stone gargoyle. The wall starts to move and a spiral staircase is revealed to you. You make your way up and knock on the door to Dumbledore's office.

"Come in."

You push the door open, finding Dumbledore sitting at his desk and sitting in front of him, is none other than the Minister of Magic.

"Minister," you say in slight surprise, walking further into the room. Dumbledore gestures for you to sit down beside Fudge and you do, eyeing him warily.

"Now, Professor...I am sure you know why I have called you here," Dumbledore says and you nod.

"Yes, Headmaster."

"It is my understanding," Fudge says, turning his head to you, "that Sirius Black once again broke into the school and this time he successfully managed to get into Gryffindor Tower, terrifying the students there."

"You'd be right about that, Minister."

"What is your involvement?" Fudge demands, and you turn to him in disbelief.

"What is my involvement?" you repeat, glaring at him. "I didn't have any!"

Fudge scoffs. "It is more than just a coincidence that Black has managed to get into the school more than once! How did he do it?"

"I don't know, ask him!"

"Stop your denying!" Fudge snaps. "I have given you the benefit of the doubt time and time again, but I have had it up to here! Did you help Sirius Black get into this castle?"

"No, of course not!"

"Cornelius, please," Dumbledore intervenes calmly, bringing a hand up to silence the both of you. He looks at you. "Professor, please, can you tell us what you were doing last night after the Quidditch match?"

You sigh, kissing your teeth. "Alright. After the match, I went back to my quarters. I worked on a few things from my fifth-years, then I went to bed."

"What exactly did you work on?" Fudge demands.

"Essays on the relationship between Saturn's moons and its rings," you reply bitterly.

Dumbledore motions for you to continue. "Then, at around half one or so, Professor McGonagall came and informed me of the break-in. Then we searched the castle together, found no one, and I returned to my bedroom. Then I read a book, tried to sleep but couldn't, and went up to the Tower to stargaze."

"A likely story," Fudge mumbles under his breath.

"See, Cornelius? A perfect alibi," Dumbledore says.

"Perfect alibi? She was practically alone the whole time!"

You scoff. "Minister, honestly, what reason would I have to let him into the castle? Do you think I want him to go around scaring the life out of my students?"

"I — I don't know! How else could he have gotten in? He would have needed inside help."

"Take a walk, Minister. Don't you think that a man capable of breaking out of Azkaban on his own is capable of breaking in to Hogwarts on his own?"

"But — the Dementors — "

"If the Dementors didn't catch him then that's not my problem," you snap. "If they're really so hell-bent on giving him that Kiss then they ought to work a little harder."

Fudge doesn't respond.

"A lovely thing, by the way. The Dementors' Kiss."

Fudge makes a noise, halfway between a frustrated growl and a sigh. "He is a murderer. He deserves no better fate."

"No one deserves that fate other than Voldemort himself."

Fudge winces, hissing, "Don't speak that name!"

"Coward," you mutter under your breath, and Fudge doesn't hear it. "You didn't give Sirius a trial last time, why give him one this time? You're so kind, Minister."

"Please, Minister, let us put this matter to rest," Dumbledore says. "I have the utmost faith in my staff. I know she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the safety of her students."

"I really, honestly, wouldn't," you say to Fudge earnestly. "I love my job and I love this school and I love my students. I would never do anything to hurt them."

It's quiet for a moment, before Fudge speaks, "Do you still think he is innocent?"

You don't respond.

Fudge silently fumes in his seat and Dumbledore says, "I think that is enough. You may go, Professor."

You breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Headmaster." You give Fudge a parting glare and depart from the office, closing the door behind you.

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter ten here!

#sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #the marauders #marauders #harry potter #fanfic #fanfiction #hp #angst #angst with a happy ending #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic

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wittlesissyb4by · 7 days

Text

Chapter 3

Max hasn’t said anything today. I was up when he was getting ready for work, which is weird because I’m usually never up this early. But I guess I…wanted something to happen. I’m not exactly sure what I wanted. Last night seemed like it was a dream.

Did I dream that?

No. It was definitely real. I remember the taste of his cock, the taste of his cum. No dream is that vivid. No dream can make me that turned on. So I don’t know what I expected when I got up this morning, but I guess I was just hopeful for …something. Words of affirmation, a hug, a chance to suck his cock again…

Honestly just an acknowledgment of my presence would have been nice. But he didn’t even do that, just sipped his coffee while scrolling through his phone at the table.

“Can I get you anything?” I want to say, but bite my tongue, not wanting to sound like some sort of desperate housewife. I want to address the elephant in the room, to talk about yesterday, whether or not we’re square. Did the blowjob I gave him really justify a whole month’s rent? Does he want more? Do I want more? How weird will our relationship be if we were to start some sort of strange sexual dynamic? What if it stops? What if it continues?

“Well, I’m off to work.” he says, pushing back his chair, gathering up his things and heading out the door without so much as a glance my way.

“Okay by–” but it doesn’t even get all the way out of my mouth before the door slams shut.

Maybe he’s mad. Maybe he regrets what happened. I mean, it was his doing. He initiated it all and I just…let it happen.

Helped it happen.

I wasn’t exactly a helpless victim. It was me that was bobbing up and down on his big juicy cock by my own accord. God it tasted good. It felt good. Something I've denied myself for so long.

I’m not gay. At least, I don’t think I am. I’ve always had an affinity for women. They are majestic, beautiful creatures. I love seeing their eyes and smiles brighten up a room. The way they laugh and can have fun and dance like no one is watching. The curve of their hips, their breasts. Their supple movements, the way they casually tuck their hair behind their ear, and bat their eyelashes. There is no doubt that they are by far the more attractive sex.

But I've always been plagued with a feeling of inferiority. Not being the biggest in the penis department has left me with anxiety that I won’t be able to perform or please them the way ‘real’ men can. I have lingering visions of women standing around, laughing at me because I have a shy bladder and can’t pee in a toilet in a timely manner. Or I take off a beautiful woman’s clothes and she laughs at the size of my dick, or is disappointed when it's not able to get hard due to my underlying fear and shame.

The combination of these phobias has most likely caused my brain to warp them into a series of fetishes. It sexualized my short-comings. I get turned on by a woman insulting the size of my penis. I get hard to the idea of them laughing at me, degrading me, humiliating me.

My timidity when it comes to peeing in a toilet must have spawned the retention of such. ‘Since you can’t even use the toilet properly, maybe your teeny wieny is better suited for diapers instead!’ I imagine those laughing girls saying.

All of this culminates into this whirlpool of self-doubt, and leaves me feeling like less of a man than others. Thus, I guess, is where the sissy stuff came from. Perhaps it was society’s fault. In our culture, anyone not befitting of a masculine, alpha, macho-man persona is unabashedly called a ‘sissy’. I figured out pretty early that I belonged in that category, and must have accepted it from an early age.

Years of watching and reading porn only exacerbated my ‘problems’. I quickly learned what kind of things I enjoyed, and even found things I didn’t know I would enjoy. I was always attracted to diapers, but I didn’t know they could be combo’d with skirts and dresses. That was new. Two of my favorite things merged together in a perfect amalgamation. Combo that with a superior woman speaking to me in a humiliating, patronizing manner? Gold. Solid gold.

Then one day I found a video of a woman calling me a ‘wittle sissy baby’ and telling me she had a bottle for me. But this wasn’t just any bottle. It was a special bottle. And that’s when she brought in the giant dick that was waiting off screen.

I’ve never been attracted to men. Honestly. I’ve never looked at a man and found myself sexually attracted to them. Well, other than Ryan Reynolds, but that doesn’t count. I’m comfortable enough to tell when a man is good-looking, and can acknowledge it, but that’s usually as far as it goes. The idea of kissing, dating, or being romantic with a man does nothing for me. But the cock? Well…that’s a different story.

I guess the inferiority complex I have with women carried over to men as well. I’m not naive enough to think I’m anything above the bottom of the totem pole. I consider myself the bottom of the societal barrel. A subservient. A willing participant to what others desire. A submissive. To anyone, regardless of sex or gender. And so, I guess my brain can’t differentiate between who it is that I’m serving. But porn quickly told me that, if you’re a sissy, you’re going to spend a lot of time serving men.

I’m not sure if it’s a deep desire I’ve held all along, or if I unknowingly Pavlov’d myself into it, but eventually the idea of being dressed up like a little diaperslut and sucking some dick became a very big fantasy of mine.

And so we circle back to Max. We’ve lived together for almost 2 years, and in that time I’ve never imagined myself with him. He’s a big, burly, ‘alpha’ male, but not even once did I fantasize about being on my knees in front of him, sucking and worshiping his cock.

So now I’m conflicted. Did I enjoy what happened? I don’t think there’s any denying that. But I’m still hesitant. Caught in this weird limbo of right and wrong. I just got a little carried away, that’s all. I only did it because he told me to. Because I needed a place to live. If I didn’t do it, I was going to have to live on the streets. I was doing it for survival. Right?

He doesn’t say anything when he gets back from work. Just sighs in that exasperated way one does when they come home after a long day. He grabs a beer from the fridge, plops down on the couch, and turns on SportsCenter.

I sit in the chair several feet away and act like I'm interested. “So the Bruins had the best record in the regular season?” I ask, parroting what the news anchors are saying, “and the most points in franchise history? And they still lost in the first round of the playoffs?”

He just nods absentmindedly, lounging on the couch and putting his hat over his head.

Assuming he’s about to take a nap, I stand up to leave. Heading out of the living room.

“Where are you going?” he asks abruptly beneath his cap.

“I was going to go play some games.” I reply, a bit disconcerted.

“No you’re not.” He says simply.

“I’m not?”

“No.”

I don’t say anything for a bit, just have my mouth hanging open in confusion, so he continues.

“You’re going to put on an outfit for me.” He says, “The schoolgirl outfit will do.” He doesn’t need to clarify, but he does anyway: “The slutty one.”

My stomach drops. From fear or excitement I'm not exactly sure. “I…wh-what do–”

“Get made up for me.” He says, still talking beneath his hat, “I want you to look your best.”

******

My hands shake as I apply the last bit of mascara to my lashes. I’m not sure if I'm giddy with excitement or fear. Is this really happening?

I usually revel in the idea of dressing up like a little slut, but no one has actually seen the finished product. What is he going to do when he sees me like this? Will he humiliate me? Laugh at me? Tease me? Fuck me?

My mind swims with the possibilities. I stand up and check myself in the mirror. I definitely look passable, maybe even fuckable. After readjusting the ‘breasts’ of my stuffed shirt, I take a little turn, watching my mini-skirt lift as I twirl. I feel…pretty. Desirable. I just hope he agrees. There’s butterflies in my stomach and I don’t even know what’s about to happen. Maybe it’s the thrill of the unknown, but I feel ready for any possibility.

The only thing left is to figure out what to put beneath my skirt. Should I wear a diaper? It certainly would be my first choice, but would it be his? A pair of pampers doesn’t exactly scream ‘slutty’, and I don’t want to turn him off or scare him away from whatever might take place. So I decided on a pair of skimpy boy-shorts. It only just hits me how ironic that term is. I didn’t feel like much of a boy when I wrapped them around my parts. If anything, it was like putting the final nail in the coffin that made me feel like a girl.

One last glimpse in the mirror before I saunter off into the unknown. I open my door with trepidation, it seems to creak louder than usual. I creep through the hall, the house is eerily quiet. At first I think he’s left, some kind of cruel joke. Or maybe he’s just napping. Should I wake him if he is? How awkward would that be? Hey Max, wake up, time to see your roommate dressed like a cheap whore.

But when I turn the corner, he’s sitting on the couch, bolt upright, a big smile on his face.

I scrunch up as I walk in front of him, suddenly very self-conscious. Does my hair look okay? What do I say? What do I do? Luckily, he helps me.

“Turn around.”

I do, legs quivering.

“All the way.”

A complete twirl. My arms stiff at my sides.

“Relax. Give me a little curtsy.”

I feel myself loosen a bit as I grab the hem of my tiny skirt, jut my leg out, and dip shakily.

I can feel his eyes panning me over. I feel like an object, a painting on the wall for him to admire, and I don’t exactly hate the feeling.

“Face away from me.” He growls. His voice is a little shaky, is he nervous too? Or is it…something else?

I tiptoe around, facing the TV. It’s off, so I can see my face reflecting in the black screen. I can see him too, he’s smiling, and his hand is rubbing over the front of his pants.

“Bend over.”

I do, hinging at the waist. I can feel the breeze hit the bottom of my cheeks as my skirt lifts, exposing my panties.

“You have such a nice ass.”

It’s such a strange comment. Not creepy, just…something he’s never said to me before. It makes me warm inside, to be complimented in such a way.

“Th-thank you…” I squeak awkwardly.

“Come here.” He says.

I turn, moseying up to him, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“Knees.”

I drop again, the same position I was in last night.

He’s still rubbing his pants. I can see his bulge, I can see his cock in my mind, my mouth subconsciously starts to water.

“I’m going to be honest.” He says. “I spent all weekend masturbating to the thought of you in this outfit.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but it was oddly enticing. Someone imagining me? Using me as the object of their desires, and actually jerking off to it? I never knew that would be such a confidence boost.

“But seeing you now, it’s even better.”

I can’t help but smile.

“Do you like wearing it?” He asks, “Things like this?”

I look down at myself, covered from head to toe in feminine attire. The way it accentuates my curves and gives me this overwhelming feeling of joy is indescribable. But I only give a sheepish nod. “Mhmm”

“Good.” He smiles, “Because you will be dressed like this very often. If you want me to pay your rent, you are going to be my personal…what word would you like me to use? ‘Slave’? ‘Slut’? ‘Pet’? ‘Bitch’? ‘Whore’?”

“Yes.” I say, indicating I wanted to be all of them. Any word he used to describe me would suffice.

He nods in understanding. “Every day you will do what I say, when I say. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes sir.” He corrects.

“Yes sir.” I repeat.

He reaches a gruff hand out, cupping my chin, rubbing a rough thumb over my cheek. It makes me feel small, subservient, obedient. Like a puppy getting patted. He slips his thumb between my glossy lips. Without even thinking, I start to suck on it.

“How do you want to do this?” He asks, “do you want me to be gentle? Or do you prefer me to be rough and mean?”

It doesn’t take me long to think of the answer. “Rough.” I say around his thumb, then resume sucking.

“You’re sure?” He says, eyebrows raised. “I can be quite harsh.”

I nod, bobbing my head over his thumb like it’s a cock, wishing it were a cock. “Yes sir.”

“Okay.” He shrugs, plopping his thumb from my mouth. “Our safe word will be ‘Roomie’. Use it whenever you feel I’ve gone too far.”

I nod, doubting I would ever need to do so .

He smiles, sitting back, then taps his leg. “Up.”

I’m a bit taken aback, not sure about the order, so he repeats.

“Up. Over my leg. Let’s go.”

Now I understand. I whimper as I crawl over his lap, I’m not sure if I’m just playing a part or am genuinely scared. Perhaps a bit of both. I can feel his cock pulsing in his pants as I put my own almost directly on top of it.

“Someone’s a little excited already.” He chuckles, reaching beneath my skirt to tickle my throbbing boner. He doesn’t pay it much mind though. I can feel him lifting my skirt so that my cheeks are exposed. “Look at your pretty panties.” He muses. I don’t even have time to thank him before I feel a sharp swat on my ass.

“Nnghh!” I yelp.

“You like that?” He asks sternly.

I bite my lip, ass still stinging, but nod. “Yes sir.” My voice is higher pitched, as if falling into submission has caused it to raise an octave.

Five sharp swats, one on each cheek. I whimper with each one. I’ve never gotten a spanking before, I didn’t imagine it would hurt quite so bad. Max doesn’t seem to be holding back, but I trust him. I know this isn’t his first time. I’ve heard the same smacks and yelps coming from his room when he’s brought home a girl–or even a guy sometimes. He seems to be no stranger to a D/s relationship.

Twenty more smacks in quick succession. My ass is on fire now. Where I was embellishing a bit before, my cries of pain have become much more genuine. I grip the cushions of the couch as he shows no signs of stopping.

By 40…or is it 50? I’ve lost count. But I’m having to bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming. Finally, he stops. I can feel the heat radiating from my butt. But my reprieve is short lived, he just needed time to yank my panties down. I give some pitiful plea of “no no no, please!” as he raises his hand to begin the onslaught again.

At around 60 or 70, I’m in literal tears.

“Do you remember your word?”

I nod, sniffling.

“Do you want to use it?”

I clench my eyes closed at what I’m about to say, shaking my head “no sir…”

I can feel him smiling down at me. “Okay then…”

My arms are flailing and legs are kicking with every smack now. He grips the former with his non-spanking hand, and throws his leg over my floundering thighs.

I regret every second of not using the safeword. I still consider using it, but I want to be strong. I want to impress him, as silly as it sounds. I bite my knuckle to keep myself from screaming loud enough to wake the neighbors.The leather of the couch is slick from my tears and snot. His blows aren’t as fast anymore, but they're stronger and more pronounced. Each one makes me squeal and sob pathetically. Whatever respect he had for me before has probably evaporated long ago.

After what seems like forever, the swats finally stop. I’m bawling into the cushions of the couch, and my ass feels like it’s black and blue. It’s a good thing I don’t have a job at the moment, because I doubt I would be able to sit at a desk tomorrow.

“You okay?” he asks softly. His voice has dropped that rough, hardness from before. I nod, not sure whether or not I’m lying.

I feel him fumble for something in his pants. I hear the click of a cap, then a squirt. A cooling sensation coats my buttcheeks as he runs his hand over them with some type of lotion. Did he have that in his pocket this whole time?

Whatever it is, it feels good against my burning bum. He rubs it sensually, taking his time, being gentle despite the damage he inflicted before.

“This is what will happen if you disobey me,” He says. I believe him, and it’s enough to make me not want to ever think about acting up.

He squirts another dollop of lotion, but this time it’s between my cheeks. I can feel his fingers coaxing my crack open. Tracing, searching for my little button.

“I like that you shave your pussy,” He says, “I want it to stay this way.”

I whimper, twitching as he pokes and prods at my hole. I can feel his dick stiffening in my lap as he presses his finger into me. The most pathetic moan escapes my lips before I can stop it. He plunges his finger deeper and deeper into me. I welcome every single knuckle, even press my hips backwards, hungry for more.

He chuckles again, “Such a little slut you are.”

I’m panting, like a bitch in heat. The combination of his finger and his words are driving me crazy. I’m humping backwards against his finger desperately as he presses down on my prostate. Mixed with the now dull throb of my blistered cheeks, it’s almost too much to handle. I’ve always enjoyed my pleasure spiked with pain.

He raises my hips up so that he can have access to my dangling dick underneath. “Such a teeny weeny clitty” he teases, wrapping two fingers around it. He works his hand up and down on my cock while driving his finger in me from behind. Before I know it, I feel that familiar tingle.

“Ask permission to cum.” he growls.

“Can I cum, sir?” I moan, not even bothering to try to make myself sound the least bit masculine. It’s pitchy and pathetic and desperate.

“Not yet.” He continues to work me with his masterful hands. I groan into the couch, grabbing at the cushions, his burly legs, a pillow, anything.

“Please!” I shout, “Sir! Can I cum?! PLEASE!”

I can’t hold out any longer. It’s by some small miracle that he says “You may,” just before I explode all over his lap. A second later and it would have happened without his say-so. What would he have done if I were to cum without his permission? I loathe to find out. He shoves me down on the floor in a heap, gasping for breath. It takes me a couple minutes to collect myself. When I do, he’s still smiling down at me in a victorious sort of way.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks.

“Y-yes…sir…” I say between breaths.

“Good.” he says, “Because you have a mess to attend to.”

He points down at the gooey, white puddle I made on the crotch of his pants.

“Every load you make ends up in your mouth.” He growls, “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir…”

“Clean me up then.”

I don’t have the same eagerness as I did before. I’m a bit repulsed as I crawl between his legs and start lapping up my loser goo. But as my tongue runs over his pants I can feel the outlines of his hardening cock. I suck and slurp the mess off the hem of his pants, running my tongue through the flap of the zipper, making sure I get every last drop. He’s damp by the time I’m done, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He stands up. Again, it’s almost like nothing just happened. He goes to the cabinet, pulls out a glass, fills it up with water and takes a long swig. “Ahhh…” he exhales, looking off into the distance, then eventually back at me. “Go to my room.” He says, “I want you on my bed. Face down. Ass up.”

******

“This is my asshole now!” Max grunts, slapping my tender cheeks while he pumps his cock in and out of my rectum. “Tell me whose ass this is!”

The pillow is moist from me biting and drooling on it to keep from screaming. His dick feels amazing, but I’m not used to being pounded like this. There was only so much training I could do with my dildo…

“It’s your ass, sir!” I squeak louder than the springs of the mattress.

“Daddy.” He growls. “Call me Daddy.”

“It’s your asshole, Daddy! It’s your asshole!”

“I own you,” he groans, “Do you understand??”

“Yes Daddy!” I really gotta get my voice under control. It gets so whiny and wimpy when I’m getting fucked.

I can feel his dick swelling, getting even stiffer than I thought possible. “I’m going to cum!” He tells me, “Where do you want me to cum?”

“In my asshole, Daddy!”

“Whose asshole?!”

“Your asshole!!” I correct.

I can hear him laughing between the grunts, I wonder if we’ll joke about this later. It’s amazing what people say in the heat of the moment.

“I’m gonna breed you like a little bitch!”

“Cum inside me Daddy!”

“You’re fucking miiiine!!” an exasperated groan, a warmth filling my insides, I can feel him convulse behind me as he deposits his load in my rectum. He removes his member and collapses on the bed shortly after.

I don’t know what to do at this point. What do you say to someone that just came inside of you? ‘Thanks’? I wait for him to come to, still in the doggy-style position.

He peeks an eye open. “Go to your room.” He says. “You’re not sleeping here.”

I wonder if, now that he’s lost his lust, he’s no longer interested in me. Is this how girls feel all the time? Constantly wondering whether or not they’re good enough? Worrying if they’ve done something wrong?

I climb off the bed and take the (luckily short) walk of shame back to my room, his cum leaking down my leg.

When I enter through my door, there’s a buzzing coming from my desk. Did I leave one of my vibrating toys on?

No…it’s just my phone, but it shows you where my head has been all day. The light stings my eyes as I look at it. My stomach drops a bit when I see who’s calling.

I tap the little green button.“Hello?”

“You know, Jake…” Zoey’s sweet voice says, “Part of having a girlfriend means you have to actually talk to her on the phone every once in a while!”

To Be Continued

If you're liking where this is going, and would like to read more, head on over to SubStar! My subscribers are currently reading Chapter 7!

#roomies

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lovecomedy · 3 months

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If you need any convincing that Noel and Liam Gallagher are incestuous freaks (affectionate), here's the basic information you need

First of all. The kisses

Loch Lomond kiss, where they just... made out on stage in front of cameras. Cool. There's a gif with every photo from every angle.

Another kiss, this time in Japan. Here's the actual video.

And here's the same video but together with nice quotes from their 2016 documentary:

Here's a 2005 award event where they kiss again and also look quite in love

And here's Liam straight up groping Noel during concerts:

General stage antics and more groping:

Ok. Let's talk about the music, then

Oasis has a song that Noel wrote called "My Sister Lover". The title speaks for itself, really. It includes amazing lyrics such as "You're my lover, I'm your brother"

But there's more! Noel used the same chorus of this song (with different lyrics) for a song he released in his solo album, 20 years later. It's called "Lock All the Doors". The very first line says: "She wore a star-shaped tambourine, prettiest girl I’d ever seen". And guess... guess who famously played a star-shaped tambourine? Liam! And Noel was the one that gifted him the fucking tambourine!!

Liam wrote a song for Oasis called Guess God Thinks I'm Abel

I'll just link everything that's been said about this song, because it really is batshit insane that this song exists

(It's common in the north of England to refer to things and people as "our". When either Liam or Noel say "our kid", they're talking about each other)

Liam has the tendency of thinking every song Noel writes is about him, including the love songs

Here he says "I'm his muse", along with some other interesting quotes

Ok, now we're on to suspicious quotes!

They had sex last night, according to Liam

This one is my favorite:

Of course this one is just all the weird quotes jammed in one post, you can feel yourself going crazy as you read it

Noel assures us that Liam knows about his arse

Other people confirming that they act like a couple

This one, it has Noel saying Liam is deeply in love with him. At the bottom, Liam's tweet.

Actually Liam always tweets things that basically confirm they're relationship. Like when somebody asked him if he ever rimmed Noel. Yeah.

This radio interview is where the most lovely quotes come from. Only Noel was supposed to be interviewed but then they both showed up PISSED DRUNK. Transcription in the same post

Even More weird quotes

This one involves the word impregnate

Noel making a suspicious comment about his daughter and son, Anais and Donovan

I think to be convinced you really just need that, but I'd like to add some niceties.

Just genuinely enjoying each other’s company

This is from the Oasis; 10 Minutes Of Noise and Confusion documentary. As Noel is kissing Liam's cheek, Liam is saying "He’s a fucking cunt and I hate him and I love him and he twists my melon, man. He’s the best songwriter in the fucking world.”

Some sweet quotes, and some not some less sweet ones as well

From the Supersonic documentary

Hugging after playing football

Just being silly

To finish off, two wonderful video edits with endearing moments

#gallaghercest

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suitkive · 1 year

Text

✩ just swinging by — k.yh

pairing. yoohyeon (dreamcatcher) x fem reader

summary. ever since the mysterious web-swinging spider-woman first collapsed on your balcony by accident after a long night out fighting crime, she keeps coming back around with thank-you gifts and excuses to see you—and you slowly start to find yourself falling for the clumsy, kindhearted girl behind the mask.

info. college au, yoohyeon as spider-woman

warnings. swearing, blood/injury

word count. 4.6k (oops)

(a/n) insp. this moodboard i made a while ago :D

of all the things you were expecting to happen to you on a typical sunday night, the sudden appearance of a masked vigilante at your balcony was most certainly not one of them.

alright, rewind a bit. a CRASH jolts you awake in the middle of the night—though really it's morning, according to the glowing red digits on your alarm clock that read 3:49 AM—and you nearly fall out of your bed because that was loud, what the hell?

nerves running high and any remnants of sleep completely shaken out of your body, you get out of bed and slowly open your bedroom door only to be met with a blast of frigid night air. you blink a few times, just to make sure you're not seeing things.

"what the fuck," you say out loud.

your balcony door is gone.

no, wait—it's broken. shards of glass are everywhere, and there's a giant gaping hole where the sliding door used to be. and lying crumpled in a heap on the floor in front of it…

you fumble for the light switch, something you probably should've done as soon as you opened the door. the sight that greets you when the light turns on makes you wonder if you're still dreaming, because this can't actually be happening.

there is a superhero on your balcony.

and she's bleeding all over your carpet.

"oh my god—" you hurriedly rush over to get a better look. red-and-blue spandex that's torn in several places, a trail of spiderwebs clinging to her wrists, a large spider symbol printed on the front and back of her suit… it's spider-woman. spider-woman just crashed through your balcony door.

and she's bleeding. on your carpet.

"okay," you mumble, trying to think. at least the fresh night air coming from the massive hole in your balcony door does well to invigorate you. "okay, okay, i need to do something… oh god, my landlord is gonna be so pissed at me—"

the body on the floor lets out a weak groan, and you quickly kneel down next to her. "hello? are—are you okay?"

with great difficulty, the girl struggles to lift up her head. her mask obscures the entirety of her face, so you have a hard time telling whether or not she's fully conscious.

"…ow," she croaks out at last, and then her head falls back to the floor with a thunk. seconds later, her chest begins to slowly rise and fall. a soft snoring sound emits from her mask.

you take a deep breath. okay. you can deal with this.

so here you are almost three hours later, nursing a cup of much-needed coffee as you stare contemplatively at the now-bandaged but still-snoring superhero laid out on the couch in front of you. you had done your best to clean and treat her wounds with your limited medical knowledge (and the suspiciously well-stocked first aid kit that your weird roommate handong keeps in the cupboard), so now you're just waiting for her to wake up. which is taking way too long.

the clock on the coffee table reads 6:15 AM, and you glumly swish around the cold dregs of your morning coffee. it's almost time for you to leave for your 6:30 chemistry class, but it looks like spider-woman is still completely out of it.

after pacing around the kitchen of your tiny apartment for five more minutes, you impulsively grab a post-it note and scribble down a message for spider-woman to see when she wakes up. thankfully your roommate is literally never home, so there's no chance of anyone coming in here and discovering the superhero conked out on your couch.

you sign your name at the bottom of the note and stick it to spider-woman's forehead, hoping she'll be alright. as for your balcony door… thinking about how much it's going to cost to install a new one gives you a headache, so you just stick a large sheet of cardboard over the opening and resolve to take care of it as soon as you get home.

"this has been a very, very weird morning," you say out loud, because nothing about this feels real.

(then again, the tedious hours you spent cleaning up bits of glass from the floor and picking the webs off of spider-woman's suit definitely felt pretty real.)

you throw one last glance at the sleeping heap on your couch before you leave, only hoping that your life will get back to normal after today.

yoohyeon wakes up disoriented, aching all over, and with the horrifying realization that she has most definitely slept past all five of her monday morning alarms.

she blinks sleepily, slowly processing her surroundings. she's lying on a couch, someone has bandaged her wounds and swaddled her in blankets, yubin probably, she's an angel and the best guy in the chair yoohyeon could ever ask for and… whoa, wait a minute.

this isn't her apartment.

with that horrifying realization, yoohyeon sits straight up and whips her head around in a panic. her surroundings are entirely unfamiliar, and she's about to call yubin before remembering that yubin is unreachable right now—away on some sort of top-secret mission that's supposed to last, like, three months. yoohyeon groans. why am i actually the worst superhero ever?

then she realizes that there's something stuck to her forehead and reaches up to find a neon green sticky note with some writing on it, which she slowly reads through with a good deal of trepidation.

hey, you crashed into my apartment last night—you were unconscious but i didn't see your face, don't worry! i fixed up your injuries as best i could but now i need to leave for class, so i hope you'll be okay when you wake up. just remember to put the cardboard back over the balcony door so birds won't fly in or anything :)

phew. so yoohyeon's secret identity hasn't been leaked, that's a relief… but she essentially broke into an innocent civilian's apartment, which she doesn't exactly feel great about. i need to make this right.

"oh, wait—" yoohyeon realizes something and jumps to her feet, the blankets falling around her. "shit, i'm late for class!"

you're dutifully taking notes as the professor drones on about chemical equations, though you're struggling to stay focused—seriously, who decided that 6:30am classes on a monday was a good idea?—when suddenly the doors to the lecture hall burst open and a girl runs in, flushed and panting heavily.

"i am so sorry," she wheezes, bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. "i overslept…"

the professor sighs and waves off her apology. "don't let it happen again," he says sternly, then continues his lecture.

you cast the girl a curious glance as she shuffles shamefully to an empty seat and starts unpacking her things. she's tall and lanky, with long two-toned hair tied in a haphazard ponytail and glasses that she has to push back up when they start to slip down her face. you make eye contact for a brief moment, then you resume paying attention to the professor without giving the encounter too much thought.

after classes end, you go back to your apartment to find the place superhero-less. the blankets are folded messily on the couch and there's a small tear in the cardboard that's covering the opening in your balcony, as if someone was in a hurry to leave.

you shrug off your bags with a sigh and go to dial up your landlord.

almost a week passes without further incident. you get your balcony door replaced so it's like nothing ever happened, and your life is just starting to get back into the usual swing of things when spider-woman shows up at your balcony again.

a thump is what wakes you up prematurely this time—it's literally 5am which is way too early for a saturday morning of all days—and you groggily stumble out of your bedroom, fearing the worst. you know it can't be a burglar since you live on the seventh floor, so there's only one person it could be…

luckily, the glass door is fully intact when you pull back the curtains to check. however, there is currently a superhero lying curled in a ball on your balcony. a very familiar superhero wearing a red-and-blue suit with a spider symbol on it.

"oh… oh, no," groans spider-woman when she hears you slide open the door. she weakly tries to drag herself to her feet, but she slumps back to the ground and you notice, with concern, the bleeding scratches all over her body. "oh man, i did it again… i'm so sorry, i'm gonna leave, just… wow you're so pretty… sorry, i should really leave—"

"no, it's okay!" you rush to reassure her, kneeling down next to her and offering your hand. "you can't go back out there like that, let me help you."

she winces, though whether it's from pain or embarrassment you can't tell. "i am so sorry," she repeats, and something about her voice seems oddly familiar, but you're too preoccupied with getting her inside to dwell on that.

the superhero keeps rambling as you half-drag, half-carry her to the couch. "i didn't mean to come here again, it's just i usually go to my friend's place when i'm injured but she's away and i got lost and mistook your apartment for mine the last time and i'm really sorry about breaking your door, it was just so dark and i had a really long day and i wasn't thinking straight and i probably gave you so much trouble—ow!"

"sorry!" you flinch and let go of her. "is your arm okay? what happened?"

"i… um." spider-woman chuckles nervously. "i kind of swung into a building? i didn't break any windows or anything! i might've broken my arm though."

you can't help but laugh, finding her awkward manner strangely endearing. "let me take a look, it might be dislocated or something."

it turns out it's just bruised, so you get her some ice and busy yourself fixing up her injuries. she repeatedly tries to convince you that she can do it herself in between a steady stream of more apologies, but she looks like she's one step away from passing out, so you insist on helping her.

"how'd you get all these cuts and scratches, anyway?" you ask, opening the bottle of antiseptic and setting out some gauze. "if you don't mind me asking, that is."

"no, it's fine! um…" spider-woman tilts her head, as if trying to remember. "the ones on my ribs are from some muggers with knives, kids really but there were four of them and only one of me so yeah… and the ones on my arms are from the black cat, you know, my nemesis? she was robbing a jewelry store and i managed to stop her but she still escaped and also got me a few times with her claws… oh, and there's this cut on my forehead that i got when i accidentally tripped and hit my head on a wall corner a few hours ago… but i can fix that on my own! you know, cause i'd have to take the mask off for that, and like, i can't reveal my secret identity 'cause dami—that's my guy in the chair—dami would kill me, haha…"

by the time she's done talking, you've finished cleaning and wrapping all of her wounds. there's just the cut on her forehead that's left, which is still bleeding despite her flippant assurances that it doesn't even hurt.

"that looks pretty bad," you note, kneeling down beside the couch and leaning in closer to inspect it. you gently press a paper towel to the bleeding area, using your other hand to brush a stray drop of blood from her cheek. "are you able to swing like that?"

there's a beat of silence. you realize that spider-woman has gone perfectly still, and also that your faces are extremely close together.

"sorry—" you shift away apologetically, worried that you made her uncomfortable. "you probably don't like it when people touch your suit."

"it's okay!" spider-woman's voice comes out as a strangled squawk, and she quickly coughs to clear her throat. "um. i was just. surprised."

"oh… well then." you stand up and glance awkwardly around your apartment, at a loss for what to do next. "so uh… how are you feeling?"

she springs up from the couch, startling you. "a lot better, thank you so much! i've caused you way too much trouble so… i should probably get going now, huh."

"are you okay to swing with your injuries and all?" you ask as she half-walks, half-slides to the balcony in this self-consciously exaggerated way. "they looked really painful when you arrived here."

"this is nothing," she responds with a casual wave of her hand, hoisting herself up onto the balcony railing in a quick graceful movement. "i heal pretty fast, so they barely even hurt anymore."

"that's good, then." you lean against the doorframe, somewhat saddened to see her go. strangely enough, you've actually been enjoying her company despite the fact that she quite literally crashed into your apartment and woke you up in the middle of the night.

spider-woman clears her throat. "uhh—maybe i'll see you around sometime," she says, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

the sun is starting to rise, peeking over the tops of the city skyline and bathing your apartment in soft golden light. spider-woman tilts her head at you, and you're almost completely certain that she's smiling under her mask.

"yeah," you respond, smiling back and raising a hand to shade your face from the sun. "i'll see you around sometime, superhero."

spider-woman gives you a jaunty little two-fingered salute, and then she's launching herself backwards off the railing with a carefree whoop. she disappears from your view for a few heart-stopping moments, but then a web shoots up and she's swinging away in between the skyscrapers until she's out of sight.

the next day, you open the curtains to find a small bouquet of red and blue flowers sitting on your balcony. they look wind-blown and slightly frayed, and the thought of a certain superhero swinging through the city with the little pot tucked carefully under her arm makes you grin despite yourself.

you get the feeling you won't be seeing the last of her any time soon.

"um, is it okay if i sit here?"

you glance up from the chemical equations on your laptop screen, meeting the eyes of a tall girl who's fidgeting nervously with the ends of her long hair. vaguely, you recognize her as that clumsy student who ran into class late last week.

"oh, sure," you say after a confused beat, shifting over slightly to make more room for her. something about her voice rings a bell, but you're not sure why it sounds so familiar. i've probably just heard her talking to her friends before, you rationalize.

"thanks!" she sits down and starts taking out her stuff, smiling hesitantly at you. "i'm kim yoohyeon, it's nice to meet you."

she has a pretty smile, you note while you introduce yourself. "it's nice to meet you too."

yoohyeon seems shy around you and doesn't talk much, but there's something captivating about her that you can't quite figure out exactly. she pays close attention to the professor during the lecture, though occasionally you'll look over to catch her stealing glances at you—she always blushes and quickly looks away, piquing your curiosity. hmmm.

after an extremely long and boring hour, the class is over and everyone starts packing up and filtering out of the lecture hall. you're packing up as well when your arm brushes against yoohyeon's by accident, and her cheeks flush bright red as she stares at you wide-eyed.

"i—" yoohyeon clears her throat. "bye!" she squeaks, and then she's shooting out the doors before you can even open your mouth to reply.

huh, how strange.

you're studying at your kitchen table one afternoon, curtains open to let some sun into your apartment, when you hear a tap-tap-tap on your balcony door and look up to see spider-woman crouched outside.

"i hope this isn't creepy," she rushes to say as soon as you slide open the door. "i was just, er, in the area and i thought i'd swing by and say hello… um, i brought you a croissant! as thanks for, y'know, everything."

"wow, thank you," you say in surprise, taking the paper bakery bag that she's hopefully holding out to you. the chocolate croissant inside is a little flattened, but you're warmed by the gesture regardless.

"no problem!" spider-woman jumps back up onto the balcony railing, sitting and swinging her legs like a little kid. "so, uh, yeah. just wanted to do that. i hope it wasn't weird. was it weird?"

you can't help but laugh. "you're cute," you say sincerely, the words slipping out against your will—flustered, you quickly change the subject before she can notice. "um, i'm not really busy right now so… you can come in and hang out for a bit, if you want."

"really?" she tentatively slides off the railing and trots inside after you like a lost puppy. "i feel bad for intruding—ooh, were you doing homework?"

"yeah, just studying for a test," you respond, sitting down and gesturing for her to pull out a chair as well. "do you know anything about chemistry?"

"i love it!" she exclaims, perking up and scooting closer to get a better look at your notes. "i first made my web fluid in my high school chemistry lab actually, it was… well, it was a learning experience. what are you studying?"

"acid-base reactions, most of it went over my head when my professor was lecturing about it…"

before you know it, two hours have gone by in a flash. spider-woman just has this bright and likable aura around her, and as she chatters about chemistry with infectious enthusiasm and tells you funny stories about her experiences as the city's resident superhero, you find that you already feel even more at ease with her than you are with your own roommate.

"we should do this again soon," you tell her when she has to leave, standing on your balcony surrounded by the bustling sounds of the city. "and be careful, alright? don't go swinging into any more buildings."

"i promise!" she assures you with a laugh, giving you a cheerful wave before she jumps from your balcony and swings off.

after that, spider-woman starts swinging by to see you a lot more often. you can tell she still feels guilty about accidentally breaking into your apartment, because she always comes with gifts of flowers or random pastries from the bakery down the street.

"you really don't need to go to all this trouble for me," you tell her, amused, when she presents you with an entire cake.

"it's no trouble at all!" she insists cheerfully, then gasps. "unless you don't like it. do you not like it?"

"no! i really appreciate it, i promise. it's just, you don't have to get me stuff if you don't want to."

"i want to!"

it's after a few weeks of the dorky superhero swinging by your apartment that you begin to realize you might be developing a bit of a crush on her. which is ridiculous, really, considering you have no idea what she looks like under the mask and you don't know her real name either. you don't know anything about her.

but you do know her, in a way. you know that she likes to pretend she's this cool badass superhero when in reality she's just a science nerd who gets excited about mixing chemicals. you know that she loves rescuing kittens from trees even though she's scared of cats, just because it's worth it to see the relief on its owner's face. you know that she sometimes swings by elementary schools during recess because a wave or a thumbs-up from spider-woman always makes the kids' entire day. you know that she's smart, she's kind, she's clumsy, she loves helping people more than anything.

you know her well enough for your heart to flutter every time you hear her tap on your balcony door, no matter the time or reason. she usually comes by during the day now, just to bring you gifts and hang out, but every once in a while she'll still crash on your balcony in the middle of the night with injuries from fighting crime.

this is one of those nights, apparently. a forceful knock on your front door is what wakes you up at 11pm one sunday night, and you groan as you're violently dragged out of your peaceful sleep.

"coming," you mumble half to yourself, throwing a random hoodie over your pajamas and hauling yourself to the door. "i have class tomorrow, who even—"

it's spider-woman, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "hi," she croaks. the knocking must have tired her out, because she topples into your arms as soon as you open the door.

"what…" you blink groggily for a few seconds, slowly processing the girl draped all over you. your half-asleep brain notes that she's very warm. it's like a nice blanket.

then you realize that your apartment door is still wide open, and the city's most famous superhero is just standing right there in the hall where anyone could see. "what are you doing here?" you yelp, pulling her inside and hurrying to close the door. "you're in your suit and everything! did anyone see you come up?"

"dunno," she mumbles, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. "i hit my head really hard. didn't think swinging was a good idea…"

you maneuver the superhero onto your couch, and she whines when you pull away to go get the medical kit. "hurts."

"looks like there isn't any bleeding," you say, kneeling down next to the couch and examining her head. "do you think it might be a concussion?"

"probably," she rasps, squishing herself further into the couch and looking like a burrito with the blanket you put over her. "should heal in a few hours."

you furrow your brow, still not used to what she calls her spidey-healing. "okay, get some sleep. you can stay here as long as you want, alright?"

"gotta wake up early," she says drowsily. "chemistry lab tomorrow…"

you blink. you… also have a chemistry lab tomorrow. "is that so?"

"yeah." you think her eyes are closed behind her mask, but then she shifts her head slightly and giggles softly to herself. "you're sooo pretty… i was so scared to talk to you in class."

wait, what?

spider-woman keeps rambling as she drifts off to sleep. "wanted to ask you out… but i was too shy without the mask. ran away, so embarrassing…"

wait, what?

"you're really cool," she mumbles. "and nice… and pretty… i like you a lot… want to take care of you like… like you take care of me…"

a pause. "you should go out with me," she says, then falls silent. tiny snores start coming out of her mask.

you slowly stand up, head spinning with all these new revelations.

huh.

you decide to go back to sleep.

it's around three in the morning when you wake up again to the sounds of someone shuffling around in the living room. you reluctantly slide out of your nice warm bed, slipping a hoodie on and heading out of your bedroom to find the source of the commotion.

"sorry, did i wake you?" spider-woman hovers uncertainly by the open door, dressed in civilian clothes—a hoodie and sweatpants—though she still has her spider-woman mask on, which looks so ridiculous that you have to smile at the sight.

"yeah… you're leaving already?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

"yep," she says, awkwardly shifting her bundled-up superhero suit from hand to hand. "um. you should go back to bed, i know you have an early class tomorrow…" and so do i, she thinks to herself ruefully.

"let me see you off first," you insist through another yawn, covering your mouth with one oversized hoodie sleeve. "be careful on your way down, okay?"

"i will," she mumbles shyly. you can't see it, but she's blushing so hard at the gentleness in your voice and the soft way you're looking at her that she's scared her mask might burn right off her face. i've got to leave before i do anything stupid, she thinks, embarrassed. why is she so nice… and pretty…

the superhero is halfway down the hall when you remember all of last night's events and suddenly get an idea.

"yoohyeon," you call out, leaning against your doorframe.

she stops and turns around. "yeah?"

a pause.

you see the exact moment she realizes. "i—oh fuck—i mean, um—" she flounders, wildly looking around and laughing nervously. "wh-who's yoohyeon? i'm just your friendly neighbourhood spider-kim—i mean—"

you smile teasingly. "next time you ask me on a date, do it when you're not suffering from a concussion."

you don't know what her facial expression is like under her mask, but spider-woman—yoohyeon—looks like she's about to pass out, if the way she's clutching her suit in a death grip is any indication.

your smile softens. "i like you too, just so you know. a lot." you step back inside your apartment, but then you poke your head out again (yoohyeon is still standing there, frozen in shock) and add, "come back and ask me again tomorrow, okay? properly."

you close the door and take a deep breath. you feel as if your heart had stopped beating momentarily, but now it resumes racing excitedly in your chest.

hopefully i didn't just make a huge mistake.

meanwhile, yoohyeon is practically having heart palpitations outside. she spends a while just gaping like a fish at your closed door, but then she comes to her senses and practically breaks her neck sprinting to the elevator.

oh god, i need to look nice tomorrow!

the next morning, you're sitting at the kitchen table doing some studying before class when you hear the distinct noise of feet landing lightly on your balcony outside. there's the sounds of someone pacing for a while. then a light knock sounds on the glass door, making you turn around.

it's yoohyeon. not spider-woman, but kim yoohyeon from your 6:30am chemistry class. she's wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater, her long hair falling in soft waves past her shoulders and her dark brown eyes bravely staring into yours. in her hands is a small bouquet of red-and-blue flowers.

"did you swing up here?" you ask incredulously, tearing your eyes away from her and looking around. the sun is starting to rise, painting the sky in a soft rosy hue that matches the blush on yoohyeon's face. "did—"

"wait—please don't say anything," she interrupts, eyes squeezed shut. "before i chicken out."

she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, meeting your gaze. "hi, i'm kim yoohyeon. um, i'm also spider-woman, and i… i'd really like to take you out on a date sometime."

she smiles hopefully at you. you step closer to her, taking the bouquet from her hands and leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek. yoohyeon's blush intensifies, and your heart soars.

"it's nice to meet you, kim yoohyeon," you tell her, matching her smile. "and i'd love to go out with you."

#dreamcatcher #yoohyeon #kim yoohyeon #dreamcatcher x reader #yoohyeon x reader #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher scenarios #kpop x reader #kim yoohyeon x reader #yoohyeon scenarios #dreamcatcher x fem reader #kpop x fem reader #THE ENDING FEELS SO RUSHED HELP but it’s done what can i do #btw: not shown are yoohyeon’s 827928918716653682 texts to dami yelling about her crush and begging her to come back 🤡

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moumouton4 · 9 months

Note

Hi! I just discovered your blog and saw your request are open. I've had an crazy idea for a prompt or HC but never could being myself to write it so if you're willing/interested it would be great but no pb if not!

The idea is female reader being curious about having s*x inside tsukuyomi (hello, multiple Itachis at once in a timeless dimension? Yes, please).

In this scenario Itachi would be healthy and have EMS (reader has special powers and she was able to heal him and turn his MS into EMS a while back).

Anyway, the idea could have come to her in a dream. At first she's super embarrassed and doesn't even tell Itachi about her HAWT dream (he probably knows she has a steamy dream). She tries to shove the idea to the side but it's keeps creeping in. She acts weird around him every time he has his MS, she can't help fantasizing about it. After a while, he finally gets her to tell him why she's acting weird and what's been on her mind.

I'll let you decide how he reacts to this.

Thank you for reading!

And Everywhere : Sex In Tsukuyomi || Itachi Uchiha x fem!reader

A/n : Here it is finally ! I've never been so proud of writing something new. I think it turned out pretty great ! I really hope you'll like it ✨

Part 1 : Out Of Nowhere 🍳

Warnings : Penetrative sex, kinda dom Itachi, spanks, oral fem:receiver, fingering, sex inside Tukuyomi, Y/n has wet dreams, overstimulation, Y/n has synchronized orgasms, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 2565

“Itachi… hnn that’s t-too much” you whined

“Shhh Sweetheart” he whispered hoarsly “I you can take me you can surely take several of us” and not even a second later you saw them close on you

You woke up with your hair sticky to your sweaty forehead. Your thighs were clenching and you could clearly feel the wetness dripping from your core. The throb was barely bearable

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you turned on your side and saw the empty spot next to you. Itachi, according to the delicate smell of scrambled eggs filling the house, must have gone to make you both breakfast. You really hoped he didn’t see anything while he was still there

You quickly got out of bed and ran to the bathroom. You found yourself torn between the reflex to splash cold water on your face and the need to quickly relieve your legs from the growing ache between them. You went for the first one hoping it would help the lingering need to subside. At the moment it helped but you suspected that the effects would last

You made your way towards the kitchen, a casual smile plastered on your face, to hide your state of arousal so as not awaken his suspicions

“Good morning Beautiful” he said softly “Did you sleep well ?” he asked before leaving a kiss on your temple

“Y-yeah good. And you ?” you answered with a light blush coloring your cheeks

“Still as perfect as when I sleep with you” He headed for the table with two plates full of avocado toast and egg in hand. He served you before sitting down opposite you.

"And you weren't too hot last night" he remembered that the day before you'd looked a little feverish

You swallowed loudly, almost choking on your bread "N-no, it was fine"

"Are you sure ?" he placed a gentle hand on your forehead "You look like you might be hot"

You quickly shook your head “No no don’t worry I’m fine. It’s just… we are in the middle of Summer and it’s getting kinda hot ahah” you tried to reassure him but internally you slapped yourself “That’s not good job Y/n” ( and no because I’m French I’m not going to laugh hon hon, no one does this 💀 )

With that, he decided not to burden you any further and to talk about the fact that his Mangekyou Sharingan had evolved into an Eternal one. He could always talk about it later

Meanwhile, you struggled to concentrate on your food, the images of several of him tending to you not wanting to leave your mind. And you felt your legs squeeze together creating a little friction

You just wanted to ask him, to tell him about the fantasy you'd just developed, but the words failed you "No, it's much too embarrassing… He's a simple man, he's not extravagant… He'd never like that… What if he thinks it's weird ?" your train of thought was drowning you and you found yourself staring at your plate

As he was looking at you he couldn’t help but wonder what was one your mind though he decided against his own curiosity not to pry into things

You finally managed to extricate you from this awkward situation. But as you predicted, the cold water didn't have much effect, so you used the excuse of going for a shower to take care of your dripping cunt

The next few days promised to be even more difficult. Every night, despite all your efforts, you ended up in the same dream, reflecting your unspeakable fantasies. And of course, every morning you'd wake up hot, breathless and soaking wet

You knew that things started to get out of hand when one day after you just climaxed in your bathroom, your hands stayed between your legs unable to stop its motion. You clearly needed more, you needed him… and dare you say them

But Itachi was far from being dumb. Little by little he noticed you acting differently. You didn’t sit on his lap as much as before when you were eating or just watching the tv. You stopped taking showers together like you used too. And as if to add to the basket, it's been a while since you've been well… had sex. Not that he minded but sometimes he wanted to feel you closer, to use this intimate moment to strengthen you bond and also he can't hide this from himself he has needs - I mean he is an Uchiha, inevitably he has a high sex drive

But the fact that you distanced yourself from him made him feel a little self-conscious. He wondered if he'd done something wrong or if it was just you, whose flame had dimmed. He just hoped you weren't hiding anything serious from him

After all, you were his first and only. He discovered everything with you in this field. With some firsts memorably played and others a little more laborious. I mean you took his virginity and he took yours. You were the one and only who had seen him at his best, but also at his worst when he was the most vulnerable. And that’s why he didn’t want to go against your will. He trusts you more than he could ever trust anyone so if you think you don't need to talk about it. Well, that's his choice too

Though he couldn’t help but wonder when you’ll tell him. Because he can be patient but he has his limits, it’s not only about sex, it’s about sharing this connection with you. But if you distance yourself like he fears you might be getting sick of the whole thing of being with him

And that’s those thoughts that push him one day decide to finally address the subject. Whatever it might be

He approached you softly so as not to surprise you as you sat comfortably on the sofa, your back to him "Tell me Y/n if there was anything important or affecting your health you'd talk to me about it right ?" he looked unsure

You blinked slowly at his question "Y-yes of course why ?" but the stuttering only increased his concern.

"And otherwise everything's fine ? I mean we're fine ?" his question made your heart clench. Your hands delicately grasped his face as you spoke with conviction "Of course we are. What made you ask me that question ?" but in the back of your head you knew exactly why

"I-I'm sorry… it's just that for a while now I've felt you've been a bit distant. I must have been imagining things then…" he sensed that there was more to it than that, his gaze was directed towards the sofa cushions, he felt really bad. He was aware of various unfamiliar factors, such as the thin layer of sweat that glistened on your skin when you woke up, or the way your breathing quickened every time he mentioned or used his Mangekyou Sharigan during training. His face took on a rare expression of sadness

Which broke your heart. You took a deep breath and said "A-actually, there is something. But it's nothing serious, it's just that…" you stopped and met his gaze fixed in yours. He was waiting for an answer, he needed one "There's something I'd like to try. If you agree…"

"Anything for you" he said almost instantly

"It's been working me up for a while now and I was wondering if… by any chance… you could take me with you to your Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan's own dimension… to you know enjoy a good time together ?" by the time you finished that sentence your voice had dropped a lot, you were bright red. This time unable to look at him

He blinked s l o w l y as if you suddenly started speaking in another language. The cogs in his brain were turning at full speed "Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan… enjoy… together ?" he was trying to make something out of what you just said

And then suddenly it clicked in his mind "If she started to distance herself, was it because she was… excited ? So it wasn't fever but envy"

His eyes were very wide "Y-you want to make love i-inside the Tsukuyomi ?" he said almost in disbelief at his own words

You nodded slowly, unable to rely on your word, the words jammed directly into your throat with the way it was knotted

He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking "Alright then" he didn't even want to question your desire because he trusted you completely. If you wanted it, there was a reason. Besides, everything you'd offered him in bed before had been good, so why shouldn't it be ? He tried to reassure himself, but couldn't stop the anxiety that came with the anticipation of what was to come

He turned his attention to his eyes to reveal the famous pupils that had been wetting your panties for nearly a week "Look into my eyes, Precious, will you ?" he gently took your hand to make you look in his direction

Your breath hitched as you crossed his red and black orbs. You concentrated on the spinning pattern, letting yourself gently sink into this other world over which you had no control

When you finally opened your eyes, you were stunned by the change of scenery. All around you was a red world, the ground and sky as far as the eye could see, creating a very intimate atmosphere. The few clouds above you didn't even seem to move, as if time had stood still. You felt his hand squeeze yours "Is everything all right here ?" he wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable "It's even better" you whispered breathlessly

He chuckled softly. He wondered what you had in mind, but he was beginning to suspect that to want to come to a parallel dimension where time was suspended and only he had control, you'd have to have a precise idea "So you have a precise idea or…" he trailed off

You tried to speak but your voice came out hoarse. You cleared your throat and tried again "We've already got to take off his layers-" you hadn't even finished your sentence when he snapped his fingers and as if by magic, you both found yourselves naked in front of each other. His discomfort dissipated little by little as he reveled in the power the Tsukuyomi gave him

You gasped at the consequence of his action. It all happened too quickly "And now ?" he continued

You didn't dare say it so you took a detour "I'd like the sensations to increase tenfold" and as if your words were orders

He took a step towards you and cupped your cunt in his hand, his palm applying light pressure to your clitoris "I see. But if I'd known it had such an effect on you, we'd have come sooner" he said, his fingers gently smearing your juices on your already sensitive sex

He gently pushed you backwards and just as you thought you were going to fall, you found yourself sitting on the lap of another Itachi who was sitting on a chair. His hands went straight to your waist and caressed your sides. You could clearly feel that he was hard

The one in front of you slowly got to his knees, he gently spread your legs and you watched his head move towards your center "Itachi- hmm" you moaned softly as his mouth pressed against your clit "Shhh don't worry we'll take care of you now" and with that he dived back in. His tongue worked hungrily as it lapped every drop of your sweet nectar

The other Itachi's hands slowly drifted to your breasts as he kneaded them softly before twisting your erect nipples between his fingers

"Knghh" you moaned loudly as you felt something entering you. But when you looked down between your legs Itachi was only licking your cunt, his face buried against your folds -Another hand, turned your head towards the right as another scene unfolded. The third Itachi, standing up next to you spoke “Look at that it seems you’re having fun there” and your eyes widening at the view of a fourth Itachi who was pounding… another YOU in a bed not so far away

You couldn’t help but feel his dick quickly railing you even if it was you who were getting railed at the moment

And if you thought it was going to stop… not even two minutes later you felt a sharp spank on your ass and a kiss right after. As you were already sitting down you suspected something else was going on. So you turned your head to look for another clone, it wasn't really easy because you couldn't concentrate with all the attention you were getting at the moment

Soon you saw the space around you filling up with other clones of you and Itachi, who clearly had no time to lose. You didn't know how you hadn't come yet, but you assumed Itachi had something to do with it

You were close to being overwhelmed, feeling kisses on your neck, on your lips, on your chest, fingers curling inside you, cocks bottoming out in a row, not to mention the Itachi who'd been eating your pussy for… well, you didn't even know how long it had been going on. But you trusted him to take care of you

And then as if he knew what you were thinking, you suddenly felt the knot in your stomach tighten "You're close aren't you my little Vixen ?" he whispered against your ear. At this point you didn't even know where the original was. You nodded briskly. Desperately trying to say the word "Pl- pl- ple"

"Don't worry, Sweetheart, let me help you finish properly" and with that you felt all the sensations accelerate. You came with a strangled scream you didn't even know you were capable of

On your couch in the comfort of your home, your body arched and you felt your juices running down your already soaked thighs "F-fuck… ugh I-tachi" you barely managed to speak

It felt like a hundred orgasms had hit you at once. You couldn't keep the spams out of your body even after the clones had gradually disappeared

Itachi, who surely had also come in his pants, held your shuddering body very close to his own to help you ground yourself back in reality. He didn't know why there was a mixture of excitement and anxiety at seeing you like this. But at least he was sure you'd enjoyed it

He let you bask in the afterglow of your more than intense love making

Then he took you gently into the bathroom and cleaned you up with cool water. Once he was satisfied with his work, he took you to bed. You'll probably need a lot of rest after this - cut to you sleeping for 48 hours !

Frankly, if you slept that much, you'd be the only one worried. He knew very well that you needed to rest he'd put you through it for 5h30 straight… let's just say it's going to be his dirty little secret for now

Taglist : @foxxymunson , @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople , @glossy1pearl

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto smut #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #naruto shippuden smut #itachi uchiha #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi uchiha x reader smumt #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha imagine #itachi uchiha smut #smut #request #miri-writes

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giowritess · 4 months

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fortnight [1]

gif by @dameronscopilot

pairing | Benny Miller x female!reader [Grace Stratford]summary | you somehow end up pretending to be Benny's girlfriend for two whole weeks. is your heart going to survive that? probably not. warnings | mentions of sex, alcohol, mentions of cheating by a third character word count | 1.7k author's note | so. happy new year! i deeply apologize for not showing my face here for the last two years lol things have been complicated and i haven't found the time to write. i've recently fell in love again with the miller brothers from triple frontier and this came up completely random, it's gonna be a small series and i'll post as soon as i write them. future smut. no mentions of y/n; grace's name is only mentioned once. english is my second language and this wasn't proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. hope you enjoy it. xx masterlist | main masterlist

fortnight

"Meaning: 14 days; fort·night ˈfȯrt-ˌnīt : a period of 14 days : two weeks."

Pretending to be Benny Miller's girlfriend for two whole weeks wasn't how you planned to spend your days off, but here you were.

After working so hard for so long, you finally had your well-reserved month off, plus a few days more. You spent a few days with your family and now were all set to enjoy two weeks of summer bliss at a friend's super fancy summer house, along with lots of other friends and others not so much, as you soon found out.

The moment you got there, you could hear the laughter coming from the house—a mansion, one could say—even from your car. The moment Will showed up at the doorway, Maddie, your best friend and his girlfriend, jumped out of the car to run to him and you rolled your eyes. They saw each other yesterday. But then Benny showed up at the door, shirtless, laughing as Will picked Maddie off the ground, and you sighed.

Yeah, you had it bad, and he was completely oblivious to it.

While you and Maddie made the trip there, she filled you in on a lot of things. The house belonged to Luke's parents, Luke being an Army buddy of the boys and your long time friend since high school. What a small world, right? Besides him and the three in front of you, you couldn't say you were “friends” with that many other people there. At best, “acquaintance” was the most appropriate word, but you didn't mind, you were there to enjoy the summer, the Fourth of July and Luke's birthday. But the thing is, Maddie also told you some other rather interesting things. Benny was pissed for two reasons: one, he was the only single guy there, and two, his ex-girlfriend was there with her new boyfriend. His ex that, according to Maddie, was the one who broke things up and he still had a thing for. His ex that Maddie hated because she was a typical Regina George—nevermind being almost thirty.

The idea started to form in your head the moment Maddie told you all that, but you still weren't so sure of it.

The thing was, your relationship with Benny was weird. Since Maddie was your soul sister and you were always around when you weren't deployed, he was basically a brother-in-law to you. You two had always been friends, got along just fine; there was, however, one alcohol-filled event two years ago that changed the trajectory of your relationship.

You still remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. You'd just gotten back from deployment, happy to be home at the beginning of summer, your favorite season. Maddie and Will were in the early stage of their romance, lots of longing glances and unsaid words, so you were starting to be around Will and Benny more frequently. The thing was—you had a thing for Benny since, well, ever. You just couldn't help it, guys who knew how to make you laugh were your downfall, and it was only a bonus that he was handsome as fuck and had eyes that made your parties drop. Suffice to say, Benny Miller was your dream guy, but he never made a move on you as seemed interested in you. It wasn't that you weren't brave enough to go for it—you just couldn't bear the possibility of being rejected by him, so you accepted your fate of liking him from afar.

That night in particular, your first night back, the four of you were at your favorite bar to celebrate your Captain promotion—after four whole years in the Air Force, you finally had a helicopter to call your own. To say you were happy was to say the least; you were estatic. Your little brother would be proud of you. All drinks that night were on Maddie and the boys; you weren't a heavy drinker, but that night you let loose and really enjoyed yourself. And shit, you could swear Benny had never looked as good as he did that day. It didn't help that you hadn't had sex in a million years and he was basically sex on legs, nor did the fact that the trash bag of your ex, who cheated and dumped you through a phone call while you were overseas, had just walked in with his brand new girlfriend, the one who he cheated with. It served only to make you want Benny even more—he was so much more man than your ex, and you'd bet an arm that he was better at sex, too. You were sure of it, even though the only place he'd been recently (every night) was in your dreams.

You were both drunk, you more than him. Maddie and Will had abandoned you already. You weren't sure how—maybe because of your sex deprived and lust-filled mind—, but the subject turned to sex, asking each other what sort of crazy things you'd already done. The thing in question was 69, which you'd never done, and Benny surprised you when he denied it, too.

And then, maybe it was the alcohol running through your veins, fogging your brain. Or how close he was and how good his perfume smelled. Or maybe you'd just had enough, so you said, taking a sip of your beer:

“I bet you know how to properly eat a girl out.”

You saw the moment his eyes darkened, one of his eyebrows raising up. He slowly placed his beer on the table. You didn’t breathe, feeling as if you were about to die while waiting for his reply.

“Wanna find out, Captain Stratford?”

You were bracing yourself for a rejection, for him to say he wasn’t interested in you that way, anything but that. You definitely weren’t expecting that. He didn't ask, but you'd never had sex in a car before. Or had three orgasms on the same occasion that weren't self-induced before. But yeah, he was way better than your ex, and your dreams.

But then it got awkward between you two afterwards. Sure, it was the best sex of your entire life, and sure, you'd love for it to happen again, but you weren't really sure how to treat Benny. So you tried to act as natural as possible and so did he, almost as if pretending that nothing had happened. Except it had, and every time you looked at him, you remembered it. Everytime you looked at his hands, you remembered how well he worked you up with those long fingers. Everytime you looked at his face, you remembered his beard glistening with your juices after he made you come twice with his lips alone. Whenever you saw him holding something, you remembered how good it felt to have those fingers wrapped around your throat while his cook hit every right spot, again and again. Safe to say, you were having a hard time focusing whenever he was around, and it made you wonder if the remembered it, too, when he looked at you, because sometimes you could swear he looked like he did. And sometimes... sometimes he looked at you the same way he did that very same might when he asked you that question. But then it faded as quickly as it came. So you tried to treat him like you used to, but for the past two years it seemed to have an elephant in the room with you, and you just didn't know what to do about it.

Truly, you'd already accepted that nothing would ever happen between you two again. But the moment Maddie told you all that, the gears in your brain started working. It was risky—what if he didn't like it? And honestly, why? It wasn't as if you really wanted him to get back with his ex... yeah, there was no rational motive you could come up with. At least no motives that weren't selfish. But then, still sitting at the driver’s seat in your car, you glimpsed your ex, wrapped around his current girlfriend—a new one, who looked suspiciously like you—by the pool, and that gave you the courage to go ahead with your plan. So that was how you found yourself in your current predicament. Exactly when Benny was awkwardly talking with his ex, still by the door, you called out his name and went to him, the surprise evident in his face. And then you kissed him.

This was the defining moment. You were scared of his reaction—and then he kissed you back, way more fiercely than you expected, his tongue slipping into your mouth, until the girl in front of you cleared her throat.

“And you are?” She asked, and the tone of her voice made you want to strangle her.

Instead, you took the jealousy and anger cursing through you and transformed into confidence, and you gave her your best smile.

“I'm Grace,” you replied, and you felt Benny's eyes on you. “Benny’s girlfriend.”

You didn't know what surprised you more: the giant scowl in her face, or one of his hands going around your body.

“I'm sorry, what is it again? Pam, Tam?” You asked before she said a thing.

You knew damn well what her name was.

“Sam,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Oh, that's right. Lovely to meet you.” You turned to him, dismissing her entirely. “Help with the bags?”

He nodded and gave her an apologetic look, before grabbing your hand (another surprise) and following you to your car. The moment you opened the trunk, he let go of your hand and you already missed the contact.

“What's going on?” He asked, confusion clouding his beautiful features.

You glanced around to make sure you were alone and tugged him closer.

“Look,” you whispered, “both our exes are here, and according to Maddie, you still like her. This way, you make her jealous, maybe win her back, and I rub it in his face that I landed someone way better than him.” His lips tugged up in the slightest shadow of a smirk. “What do you say?”

You didn't realize you were holding your breath until he replied.

“Huh. That's really smart,” he said, surprising you once again.

You expected him to say something more, but then he grabbed the bags and walked back towards the house.

And that was how you found yourself pretending to be Benny Miller's girlfriend for two weeks.

Would your heart survive those two weeks? Probably not.

by @reveriesources

➜ part two

#benny miller smut #benny miller fanfic #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #will miller #giowritess #garrett hedlund #Garrett hedlund fanfic #writing #fanfiction

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solarwonux · 1 year

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Business Proposal || knj (3/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 6.5k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

prev || next || m.list

a/n: Kind off a filler chapter, but also let the drama commence we are literally just getting started haha. Again, I’m going to be pretty busy for the next month so I don’t know when I’ll upload another part. But I hope you like this one and as always lmk your thoughts. Thank you.xx

The knot in your throat is hard to ignore as you put away your belongings in cardboard boxes. The tiny apartment that served as your home is looking more barren with the more things you take down and pack. Jungkook always made fun of you for giving meaning to silly things and getting attached to them. He calls you a hoarder and maybe he is correct about you hoarding shit you don’t ever need, but you call yourself a collector.

Why else would you have twenty different pots and pans in different colors. Plates and bowls in different shapes, sizes and designs. And you don’t even want to think about all the mugs you’ve accumulated over the years. Or the little trinkets that are carefully scattered all over your apartment with purpose. Or the tiny shelves with miscellaneous pictures of different moments in your life. Your clothes are a different story you haven’t even made a dent in the pile sitting on top of your bed, and you’ve already packed two full suitcases.

You’re grateful for Jungkook, and that he’s here just looking at you with judgment instead of voicing his negative opinions about you not being able to let go of shit. Though, he keeps reminding you that most of your things might be put in storage anyway. Namjoon is very particular and according to Jungkook nothing cute or with colors other than indigo, black, white and beige exist in his apartment.

“What about this?” Jungkook holds out a tiny black rabbit figurine in between his thumb and forefinger. You got it at a street market a few years ago because you believed it would bring you good luck. Though, you aren’t sure where that luck has gone because you certainly have none of it right now.

“I’m keeping it.” You hold out your hand and he places it, in the middle of your palm rolling his eyes.

“You’re going to have to get rid of something Bunny.” He says as his hands fall down by his sides in defeat. “My brother’s not going to let you keep any of this.” He signals to the many boxes you have already packed.

You shrug, folding up the last of your winter sweaters and placing them neatly in the box in front of you. “But I can still decorate my room how I want so I don’t care, plus I already got rid of some kitchenware.”

Jungkook sighs, “Yeah after I literally fought with you for an hour. And you still have so much of it, I don’t know how you expect Namjoon to agree to keeping an air fryer, a coffee machine, purple pans, that weird pot that kinda looks like a toy, and a hot pink blender. Don’t even get me started on the weird heart shaped bowls or that one plate that looks like cheese or the twenty five mugs you kept.” He lists with his fingers before running a hand through his hair. “I’m telling you he’s as minimalist as the word suggests.”

“Kookie, they're so cute I can’t get rid of them.” You argue, “plus they mean a lot to me.” You close the box in front of you and tape it shut. Last night you decided that all your winter stuff will be going into the storage unit in Namjoon’s apartment building. If what Jungkook says it’s true and that his brother literally has nothing. Then you can only assume so does his storage unit. Plus he’s already offered it to you.

“They’re ceramic.”

“So, I got them all for a different purpose in different moments of my life therefore they mean a lot to me.” You say sternly and stand up.

“Whatever you say.” He puts his hands up in defeat and turns around to the shelf he had been working on taking down. “Honestly now I’m kinda glad you are going to be living with Joon, seeing him irritated is amusing.”

You roll your eyes moving to the pile on your bed. Putting away your summer clothes is next on your to-do list.

“Why do you have so many clothes anyway?” Jungkook whispers from behind you, making you groan, throwing the pale yellow shirt you have picked up in his direction.

“Why are you being so annoying today?”

Jungkook slyly smiles. It only irritates you more. He may be a full year older than you but sometimes he could be more annoying than your actual younger brother. “You can’t answer a question with a question.” He bites back, picking up a skimpy baby blue lace cheekster. “You’re going to wear this in front of my brother?” He cringes holding it out as if it were the plague.

The embarrassment is evident on your face as you snatch it away and throw it somewhere behind you. “If you’re not going to be of help, get out.” You spit out, avoiding his eyes as he bends over in laughter.

You let out an annoyed sigh, picking up an oversized blue button down and folding it. “

“I’m just fucking with you Bunny. You can wear whatever you want in front of my brother. Just give me a heads up before I walk in on the two of you–you know.” He gestures inappropriately with his hand, earning a glare from you, which only makes him laugh again.

“No I do not know because whatever you’re insinuating will never happen.”

“That’s what you say now.” He accuses, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

You pick up a lavender blouse with white flowers on it and throw it in his direction. “Make yourself useful and start folding.”

Jungkook smiles widely, throwing your blouse over your shoulder. He reaches out and pinches your cheek. You swat his hand away forcefully. He winks at you before saying, “You make it so easy to fuck with you, Bunny.” He starts folding your shirt and adds, “I thought I taught you better, where’s your back bone?”

“Keep talking and I’ll show you how well I remember all those self defense moves you taught me years ago.”

The pizza arrived at exactly ten. The movers had arrived an hour earlier, taking your bed, lounge chair, desk, kitchen table, kitchenware and old decorations. Everything else you had like your clothes and small miscellaneous things were in boxes waiting to be loaded into Jungkook’s car. Your old couch was on the curb waiting to be picked up by the donation trucks.

Now, you and Jungkook were sitting in your living room–old living room–with a Hawaiian pizza and two large beers in between the two of you. Your brother and his wife left as soon as the movers did. So, it was just a lonely last dinner in your apartment with Jungkook.

“You can always just move in with me.” Jungkook speaks up taking a big swing from his beer can. “I have like three spare mattresses and Bam recently learned to not get up on the couch without permission.” He mapped out, picking up another slice of pizza.

You throw the pineapple slice you have picked off into the box. As much as you had fought the shaggy haired man against his decision even bringing up your pineapple allergy. You had lost the very intense game of rock, paper scissors twenty minutes earlier.

“No thank you. I’d rather not be subjected to your 4am drunk karaoke sessions. Or wake up to you moaning in the kitchen because of food you’ve made.” You shrug, biting into your pizza slice. “Plus you bring too many people home with you and I enjoy my sleep.”

“I don’t do that anymore.” He shrugs, throwing the crust of the pizza into the box and grabbing another slice. It’s blasphemous how he loves pineapple on pizza–no hate to pineapple on pizza lovers, if you didn’t have a deadly pineapple allergy you’re sure you would love it–but he hates the best part of a pizza. Which is by far the crust.

“Which part?” You tilt your head to the side.

“Bringing people home. I stopped doing that years ago, Bunny, keep up.” He rolls his eyes, biting into his pizza and groaning as if it’s the most delicious thing ever.

You cringe. “This is what I mean. Why do you make everything sound so sexual?”

He swallows, “Why do you take everything so sexual?” He fights back, raising a knowing eyebrow at you.

“You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“You can’t answer my question by repeating my statement from earlier.”

You shake your head, grabbing his abandoned crust. “I take back everything I just said. This is the real reason as to why I can’t live with you.” You bite into it, smiling in delight.

“Cause’ I’m irresistible.” He winks.

“No, because you’re so annoying. I will never see a moment of peace.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing another perfectly edible crust into the box and grabbing another slice. “But you love me, right Bunny?”

You shake your head, swallowing and taking a swing from your beer. “Sadly, I do.”

Jungkook smiles, throwing you a thumbs up and a cheeky wink. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

After a moment you look around your empty apartment, remembering how everything was perfectly laid out. The tiny frames of pictures of you, your family and your friends that used to decorate your walls. The abstract art piece that was hung on the wall behind your couch. Taehyung had gifted it to you after he disappeared for a few weeks in a crazy burst of inspiration. He said the bright colors reminded him of you, because somehow you always made him feel a little brighter no matter what.

You recall the little figurines that were placed on your useless tv unit because in the seven years that you lived in this apartment you never once bought a tv. They were miscellaneous things that were as useless as the unit but they meant a lot to you. Each one was handpicked by you for a purpose. The rabbit you had bought at a Lunar New Year market years ago. The ceramic watercolor-esque jewelry dish, you had found at a flea market. It was home to your crystals and not your actual jewelry, with the exception of your dad’s class ring that you had borrowed and never gave back.

Everything felt empty, even your fridge. It used to be decorated with magnets from places you had visited over the years. It had to-do lists and many sticky notes with affirmations written in ink splattered handwriting.

The night you first moved into the apartment it was hell. It was your first time living alone and every little sound sent a wave of panic through you. You had to call Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook to sleep over because you wholeheartedly believed someone would break in. Eventually things got simpler and you made your spaces yours. You never thought you’d grow attached to such a place, but you spent many nights dancing with just your string lights on. Singing at the top of your lungs. And crying because you missed your parents and brother. It was your home and even though your lease was up soon. It felt strange to not renew it again.

It almost felt like you were leaving a piece of yourself behind. A piece you never knew you had discovered until now.

“Bunny, don’t cry.” Jungkook coos beside you. The pizza is long forgotten, the box thrown haphazardly to the side as he brings you into his arms. “I know it’s hard but if we are being honest here you were outgrowing this place.”

You sniff, placing your head on top of his shoulder. “I would’ve made more room.”

Jungkook chuckles, carding his hand down your back, sending shivers up your spine. “You would’ve become a crazy hoarder. There was barely any space with all the shit you had.”

“That’s mean.” You shove him lightly. After a while of silence you speak up again. “This was my home Jungkook. I knew that I was eventually going to move out but I thought it would be because I was getting married.”

“You are getting married.” He deadpans, making you shove him even harder. He laughs.

“This doesn’t count, you know it’s not real.”

Jungkook waves you off, cradling his stomach as he bends over laughing, making you roll your eyes. “I was just trying to lighten up the mood. You know you’re always welcome at my place.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you close again. “And I know things are rocky between you tweedle dee and tweedle dum. But Jimin and Taehyung will always have your back too.”

You sigh at the mention of Jimin’s name. It’s been two weeks since you last spoke to him and Taehyung. They have been ignoring your calls and texts. You’ve even thought about emailing them, but you’re well aware that neither of them have opened up their emails since college. You just hope that one day–soon–they’ll let you explain everything to them.

“I really hope so, Kookie.

Namjoon has been pacing in his living room since he woke up at four in the morning. He’s only had about four hours of sleep since he spent his entire afternoon and night clearing out his guest bedroom. It used to be his study, but he never once used it to do his work. The creaky old desk he got at a vintage shop a couple years ago was more of a showpiece. He had no issue parting ways with it. That was the easy part then came the bookshelf he once thought of using as a way to display his favorite artist books. But his research kept him occupied and he never once got around to it.

Parting ways with his books was something he never once thought he would have difficulty with. He made three piles; keep, maybe keep, give away. Everytime he put a book in the give away pile he would move it to the maybe pile and eventually the keep pile. It went on like this until midnight when he decided to abandon the task and go to sleep. He didn’t expect his thoughts to wake him up at four in the morning. They were racing like they had some sort of urgency. And now he was wide awake in his living room with the same three piles, one overflowing more than the others.

If he had more space in his book shelves in the living room he would have no problem, but those shelves were also ones he needed to sort out. Not to mention the huge stack of to be read books occupying the space between his couch and favorite chair.

He doesn’t know how he let things get so out of hand. Though, everything seemed like a mess in his brain. Especially at this time at night. He knows if anything changed about where things were placed he would have a mental breakdown trying to look for something.

It's how things worked in his brain. It’s also probably the reason why he was unable to sleep. Now, because of his wild idea to have you move in with him. He knows things will change around his house. Apart from his vast collection of art, books and his plants, everything else in his apartment lacked any soul and emotion. He used to love coming home when he first moved in years ago, but slowly the light started to get sucked out of his place.

Subconsciously he knows that’s why he asked you to move in with him in the first place. It wasn’t his mom visiting unexpectedly or that carpooling to work would save him gas and his carbon footprint. It was because he missed coming home to something that had life.

That’s something he will never get himself to admit. Not outloud and especially not to himself. And now you’re set to arrive in fifteen minutes. He still hasn’t finished sorting out his books or done a very good job at pushing away that agonizing thought or the excitement and nerves. He’s been keeping himself occupied for hours but all he has done is wonder.

What do you look like when you go to sleep?

What do you look like when you wake up?

Do you still sleep with numerous stuffed animals?

Will you secretly place your little trinkets around his home without him noticing?

Do you eat breakfast or just have coffee?

Will you like having him around?

They’ve been moving so fast that he can’t grasp onto one. The second he brushes one off another one comes to the surface and it’s driving him insane. Sure, he doesn’t feel anything for you. Not then and certainly not now, but he is looking forward to getting to know you better. What makes you laugh and what makes you tick? Are you a stay at home person on the weekend? Or do you go out with your friends to catch up? Do you bring work home like he does? Or do you leave it all in the office and relax for the rest of the evening?

Again, these are thoughts he will never let himself admit out loud, but he has them and he just hopes they go away the second you ring his doorbell.

As if on cue, the chime brings him out of his daze. He puts down the current book he was holding–The Secret History by Donna Tartt. It’s the book you gave him for his birthday back then. You had read it about five times before giving it to him saying he would “absolutely love it.” Since then he’s read it numerous times. The paperback is fading a little bit; he's tried to get rid of it for years but for some reason he can never seem to get himself to do so.

He puts it in the keep pile and stands up. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his black cotton shorts, as he makes his way to the front door. He’s already had five cups of coffee but suddenly he feels the fatigue wash over him as soon as he puts his hand on his doorknob.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and opens the door, revealing a very casual looking you. You’re wearing gray sweatpants, a black tank top with a white knitted cover up. Jungkook and his signature black on black outfit stands by your side.

This is the moment he realizes that a new chapter of his book is about to commence.

Whoever told Namjoon that living on the top floor of the highest building in the world–note exaggeration–should be held responsible for the back ache you’re surely going to be dealing with at night.

It’s taken about ten trips for you, Jungkook, Namjoon and the movers to get all of your stuff inside of Namjoon’s home. It also doesn’t help that the owner of the very bland looking home keeps barking orders to not scratch the floors and watch for the art hanging on his walls. Understandable, but he could at least be a bit nicer. After all it’s his fault you’re in this mess in the first place.

“How can someone have so much shit?” Namjoon seethes as he places your last box in his living room. It’s not even an organized mess anymore. It’s downright a mess and he is close to losing it.

Jungkook laughs, taking a well deserved break on his couch, feet on top of his black coffee table. “You should’ve seen all the shit she didn’t keep.” He says, stretching his arms up and overhead. “This isn’t even half of it. You should be thanking me for convincing her to give away all the shit she didn’t need or use and she still kept some of it.”

“Hey,” you give Jungkook a pointed stare. “Everything has its purpose, sooner or later I was going to use them.”

“You didn’t need fifty different mugs. You literally only ever used the same five. And you didn’t need all those little ceramic figurines that absolutely served no purpose.” Jungkook argues, crossing his arms in front of him. He hasn’t slept and he has you to thank because all you did during the night while you stayed at his house was pace back and forth and clean his already clean apartment.

He understands that you were nervous but you could’ve been a little quieter or you could’ve let him sleep. Instead, you woke him up to keep you company while you rambled on and on and on about how this was a horrible idea. But what was he supposed to say? Everything he wanted to tell you, he had already said. In order to avoid sounding like a broken record he just listened to you rant while moving in and out of consciousness.

“Please tell me you didn’t bring fifty mugs to my house.” Namjoon says, scrunching his eyebrows and putting his hands on his hips. You sit on the floor in front of a box labeled kitchen and open it up.

“No, just twenty five of them.”

Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. This was already starting out on a bad note. He only has one mug for his coffee and it’s been very useful since he’s moved in. He forgets that even though he’s a minimalist in some ways. You’re a maximist. Your bedroom back home was proof enough.

Your desk was always filled with crap and numerous journals. Your walls had different kinds of posters and tiny strips of pictures you had taken with your friends on a night out in whatever photobooth you could find. He doesn’t want to even get into the stuffed animals or the twenty different pillows you kept on your bed when you only slept with one.

He supposes some things just never change.

“We don’t need twenty five different mugs, or–” He looks into the box he had set on the kitchen counter and sighs, “--six different pans.” He brings out a white and purple one and another one the same color just slightly bigger. Your colorful aura is already clashing with his monochrome one. He has no idea if they will mix well.

“Believe me, you say that now, but I can guarantee you that one day you’re going to be searching for a specific pan while cooking and you’re going to thank me for keeping these.” The words spill out of your mouth with confidence and he can’t help but roll his eyes. Out of spite he will do everything in his power to make sure that day never comes.

Jungkook stands up and claps his hands in front of him. “Alright idiots, I have a date in like two hours, so we either get your bed built Bunny or you sleep on this lovely couch.” He interrupts in pointing to Namjoon’s not so comfy looking couch.

You stand up, trying to keep your mouth from going agape, this was certainly a huge surprise. Jungkook simply didn’t date. “With who?” You walk to him with your hands on your hips. Namjoon and your mugs have been completely forgotten.

“With my bed.” He winks and you groan. You knew it was too good to be true. “Now, come on, I don't understand why you picked the most complicated bed frame to build. There are more screws than anything I’ve ever gotten from IKEA and as simple as they try to make the instructions it still takes me five hours to build one shelf.” He walks past you and into the hallway leading up to rooms.

“They are easy to understand, you're just an idiot.” Namjoon speaks up, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. This is how things were back then, clowning on Jungkook together. They were simple before feelings were involved, and you only wonder that if you kept your mouth shut would things still be that way.

Except you know that deep down they wouldn’t because neither of you would be in this situation. You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Whatever the answer to that is, you don’t want to find out, even more so now.

You ignore Namjoon’s comment and follow in Jungkook’s footsteps. The last thing you want is for him to break your beloved bedframe and you end up on Namjoon’s couch until you can afford to buy a new one. It’s this moment in particular that you miss Taehyung and Jimin the most. (Though, since falling out everything made you miss them.) It took them a full hour to assemble it together with minimal complaints. You know it would’ve taken them nothing to take it apart, but now you will never know.

Jungkook stayed true to his word and left one hour later than when he said he would. It took him and Namjoon fighting a couple of times for your bed frame to finally be complete. And during his final hour before he left on his date. He helped you move the rest of your furniture into the room, including your precious desk, armchair and the numerous boxes of clothes books and decorations you had packed.

During this time, Namjoon had barely spoken to you, except for the occasional “pass me the (insert name of tool,)” he directed towards you. Then he disappeared into the kitchen while you instructed Jungkook on where to place your belongings. Now, the filter was gone and you were left alone in a hollowed out house with its equally hollowed out owner.

You were keeping yourself occupied with hanging up your clothes when you heard a crash followed by a curse of pain coming from the kitchen. On instinct you ran out to find Namjoon holding his foot, mumbling profanities.

You swallow, placing your hands inside the pocket of your sweatpants. “Are you okay?”

Namjoon looks up, eyes full of water as he quickly releases his foot and clears his throat. “Umm, yeah, I just dropped one of your pots on my foot.” He brushes off, proceeding to pick up the pot Jungkook claims looks like a toy and places it on the counter. “I hope you don’t mind that I started to unpack the kitchen stuff. All the boxes were kind of driving me a little crazy.” He scratches the back of his neck, then points to the empty stack of boxes by the couch.

You shake your head. “Just show me where everything is so I don’t go crazy looking for shit tomorrow morning.” You say, walking towards the kitchen and stopping once you get to the other side of the counter.

He nods, and proceeds to move around. “Mugs and cups go here.” He opens the cabinet above the stove, showing you how neatly he arranged your colorful array of mugs by color and size. “The plates are here.” He moves over one cabinet and opens it, revealing three wooden racks full of your plates and his plates. “And I put the bowls up there. I know it's hard to reach but we can get a step stool or something.” He shrugs and then moves around the counter standing beside you. “You didn’t have a lot of utensils but the ones I found I put in here.” He opens up a drawer, and as expected everything was organized as neatly as possible in one of those kitchen drawer organizers. Forks, spoons, knives and chopsticks had their own compartment. You took note as you didn’t want to mess anything up.

If you were going to be living with him until further notice. Stepping on his toes and messing with his organization was something you didn’t intend on doing.

“I was just getting started on putting the pots and pans away, also I don’t know where to put your knife set since I already have one.” He says pointing to the box containing your pastel colored set of knives. Maybe you should’ve listened to Jungkook when he said you actually didn’t need them. They were just too cute to let go.

“That’s fine.” You wave your hand, discreetly taking two steps away from him. “Do you want any help?”

Namjoon pauses for a moment after he closes the drawer. He looks at the marble countertop in front of him in thought and then you. His gaze is hardened and unreadable. A look you’ve come to familiarize yourself with in the past few days that you’ve had to spend with him. It’s one he uses when the two of you are alone. You won’t lie, it annoys you a little.

“No, that’s okay. I was just going to put them in the cabinet next to the sink.” He speaks up before rounding the corner and standing in his original spot. You nod and take a step back.

“I guess I’ll be in my room unpacking. Don’t continue dropping things on your foot.” Your attempt at a joke goes ignored as he gives you a deadpan look before focusing his attention on the pot in front of him.

It’s strange how he hasn’t continued to complain about you having so much stuff. Or how he hasn’t declined anything you brought with you. He’s simply accepted it and is finding space for it. The complete opposite of what you imagined he would do. Once again he’s rendered you speechless and you have no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’ll try not to.”

It’s around two in the morning when you finally leave your new room. Namjoon’s living room–well you suppose it is now your living room too–is vacant. You let out a sigh of relief. The only reason why you left your room in the first place was because your stomach was growling and you couldn’t sleep.

You aren’t sure if Namjoon is asleep or if he’s in his room avoiding you all together. Could he really be just as childish as you? You want to believe the answer to that question is a big fat yes. But then again that’s only because you want to make yourself feel like you're not the only coward now living in this house.

Still, he didn’t come seeking you after he briefly showed you around the kitchen. So, maybe you aren’t the only one who just doesn’t know what to say to the other person. How do you simply start a conversation without bringing up your past together?

There are so many things left unsaid. So many things that happened that night that have haunted you for years. So many things that broke down your character as everything unfolded right before your eyes. A part of you blames him for what ended up happening. Though, that’s only because it was easier to blame him than to blame yourself.

Even if your therapist and Jimin and Jungkook told you that nothing was your fault. It still felt like it was, especially because you only wanted to piss off Namjoon more than you already had. Maybe then he would finally have a reason to hate you, but again, he’s never really known what happened apart from your fight.

Nor, do you think you can tell him. In fear that he would look at you differently and put the blame on you. Just like you have done for years.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Namjoon’s voice sounds from behind you, making you jump. You turn around meeting his piercing eyes as he makes his way into his kitchen.

“Nope, it’s a new space so everything feels weird.” You shrug, taking a seat on one of the island stools. “And I’m hungry.” You add, thinking it will somehow help your already valid reason.

Namjoon nods before opening his fridge. “I ordered chicken earlier, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted some or wanted me to bother you, but I saved you some.” He takes out the box and places it on the counter, moving around expertly before taking out one of your pans. See you knew they would come in handy. “I’ll heat it up for you.” He places it on the stove and turns the dial to a medium heat.

Your eyes grow wide as you start to get up. “You don’t have to, I can do it myself.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to face you, for you to know he’s rolled his eyes at your comment. “I don’t, but it gives me something to do. I’m not tired.” He shrugs, hovering his hand over the middle of the pan, to check if it was hot. Once he deems it hot enough he reaches over and grabs the leftover box of the chicken, dumping the sweet and sour delights into the pan.

You choose not to reply to him and instead look around. There were only a few boxes left for you to unpack, most of them being miscellaneous decoration pieces you had collected over the years. You know that as much as Namjoon didn’t mind having your kitchen ware mingle with his. You knew he wasn’t going to let you mess around with his minimalist aesthetic. Maybe you would just have to slowly find space for them. But maybe it was best that you didn’t. A couple of days ago he made it pretty clear that you weren’t something permanent in his life. So, why pretend like you were?

“Mom wanted us to go to brunch tomorrow, but I told her no. I figured you wanted to finish settling down before work on Monday.” Namjoon speaks up over the sizzling sound of the chicken.

Your head snaps to face him. “You didn’t have to do that, I could’ve finished unpacking over the week.”

Namjoon looks over at you and shakes his head. Before you can snap at him for whatever reason he speaks up. “You told me to keep in mind that you are your own person and that I can’t keep making decisions for you, and when I consider how you may feel about living things unfinished you tell me that I could’ve done the opposite of what you asked.” He reaches over and turns off the knob and turns to face you. “I don’t understand you.”

The audacity he has to spring up a decision he made like it was for your betterment is impalpable. Somehow him being somewhat considerate and listening to you, but at the same time not listening to you makes you want to scream. Instead, you close your eyes, feeling your appetite run away from you. “Yet, you just did exactly that.”

Namjoon tilts his head in confusion, taking the pan off the stove and bringing it over to where you’re sitting. “How? I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I told her no because I knew you would be tired after a whole day of moving.” He places down a heat mat and puts the pan over it.

You shake your head in disbelief. “No, you decided for me. You didn’t tell me your mother invited us over for brunch and instead told her we couldn’t go because I was going to be too tired when you don’t even know that.” You eye him as he takes out a pair of chopsticks. He stops once the words you’ve said sink in and glares at you.

“I don’t know what you want me to do? I agreed to meet you in the middle, I even agreed to your ridiculous list of demands and when I do, you say that that’s not what you wanted.” He places the chopsticks in front of you and scoffs.

You cross your arms in front of you. “But you didn’t meet me in the middle. Meeting me in the middle would be telling me that your mom invited us over and then hearing what I had to say about it. But instead you decided for me, you’re still not understanding.”

Namjoon groans, running a frustrated hand through his already messy bedhead. “Then please spell it out for me because I’m trying but you always have to fucking complicate things.”

“I’m not the one complicating things here. It’s simple, you only have to tell me things and then I’ll decide what I want or don’t want.”

Namjoon signs leaning his forearms on his marble counter, his arm veins popping out as he grips edge trying to regulate his anger. “This is exactly why?”

“Why what?” You push yourself off the chair, leaving your untouched chicken as you push in the stool.

“Why I would never marry you. You look too much into things and when someone calls you out on it you blame them. You’re just too difficult to deal with.” He says through clenched teeth.

You dig your nails into the palms of your hand. He has the nerve to throw one of your biggest insecurities back at you. It’s the reason why all of your past serious relationships have ended. Apart from the fact that they’ve always gotten bored and found someone new. It’s also the reason why your childhood best friends aren’t talking to you. You’re too much to deal with. So, why are you here in the first place?

“Then why did you come up with this whole elaborate plan?” Your voice is just above a whisper as you angrily keep yourself as composed as possible.

Namjoon pushes himself off the counter and stalks over to you. “I already told you because it’s not permanent. Trust me if my father had more time you wouldn’t be standing here.” He spits out and stops in front of you. “You’re not someone worthy of spending a life with.”

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat as you blink back tears. This shouldn’t be affecting you as much as it is. Especially because it’s something he’s hinted at since he first proposed the plan to you. But for some reason it does, especially his last comment. He knows that one of your biggest dreams is to get married and start a family. He also knows that all your previous partners have left you for the same reason. And he also knows that it will hurt you if he keeps repeating it. Almost as if he believes that you don’t understand how serious he is about keeping you as a temporary placement in his life.

Back then you would’ve yelled and cried. Yet, that girl was broken down and replaced as quickly as it took him to leave you and all the memories you shared together behind. So, you stand your ground, burning holes into his dragon like eyes and say, “Trust me when I say that you’re the person I hate the most in this world. That I might be difficult but you’re impossible. Your head is so big that you can’t see that the reason why you can’t seem to keep anyone around is because you push them away thinking you’re better than everyone else. It’s the reason why you might keep the money from your dad’s will but also the reason why you will end up alone.”

When you finish you can tell he’s taken your words to heart, that much you know from the fire burning behind his perfect brown eyes. Instead of responding he does the one thing you never expected him to do.

He kisses you.

a/n: lol I’m sorry.

#kdiarynet #btshoneyhive #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts namjoon #bts x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon imagines #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 6 months

Text

messy | heeseung

My first enhypen work!!

Summary: you are a wedding planner and heeseung is the very charming best man

Warnings: weddings, Jake is mentioned, heeseung is a rizzler (and says some suggestive things), drunk uncle makes an appearance, a kiss (gasp)

Messy. That’s what this is.

Because your job — and your life — has always revolved around planning, and this has not gone according to plan, because if the plan had been followed, you would not be hiding in a janitor’s closet with the best man, avoiding a very toxic (and intoxicated) uncle of the bride.

But here you are, holding your breath as the uncle’s shuffling footsteps fade away, mere inches between you and Lee Heeseung, the latter of whom is holding a hand up to your mouth to prevent you from yelling at him, which is what you had planned to do when he shoved you into this closet in the first place.

Slowly, you reach up and pry his fingers off of your mouth. “Seriously?” you hiss in a whisper, and Heeseung turns his gaze on you. “How will it look if someone sees us leave the closet together?”

He grins. “Then let’s not leave,” he says, placing a hand on the wall to one side of your head and leaning in.

“I could get fired,” you squeak, leaning back against the wall away from him.

“It’ll be worth it,” he says. “Plus, I’ll take care of you if you do. So it’s a win win.”

The way Heeseung is looking at you right now should be illegal — his warm brown eyes flick down to your lips hungrily, and you feel your heart throwing itself recklessly against your ribs as you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from pulling him in by the collar and slugging him or making out with him — you’re not sure which.

You are inexplicably pulled back in your memory to just yesterday, at the rehearsal dinner for Jake and his bride-to-be, who had hired you to be the planner for your wedding after finding you on Instagram. Your experiences as a wedding planner have been varied over your career, and at this point you thought you’d seen it all — runaway brides, grooms caught in love triangles, proposals at the wedding, intoxicated uncles, the whole bit. But there was an aspect of this wedding that made it an entirely new and terrifying affair: Lee Heeseung, the best man, who from the moment he’d laid his eyes on you had decided, unfortunately, that he was going to be your personal nightmare.

He’d caught your eye when he’d first walked into the venue, looking finer than anyone had a right to in his gray hoodie, one of the only groomsmen arriving who wasn’t puffy-eyed and hungover. He had his backpack slung over his shoulders, and he looked remarkably like a guy you would’ve gone crazy for in college - before your heart had shriveled up in your chest, refusing to feel anything at all.

He had noticed you, too. You watched him approach you with a guarded customer service smile, and yet...there was something so oddly familiar about the way the corners of his mouth turned upward as he looked at you that had you wondering if he was someone you’d met in school, or at a different wedding, or even just dreamed about. He was close enough that it wasn’t weird to hold out your hand to him. “Hi,” he said, taking your hand in his. “I’m Heeseung, I’m Jake’s best man.”

You introduced yourself. “I’m the wedding planner,” you explained. “Dang, you must have thrown a rager last night,” you continue, watching the gentlemen stumbling in, in various states of undress and discomfort.

He shrugged. “All part of the job, I guess,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to help you get things ready for tonight?”

He was polite and considerate, at least. “I think your mountain to climb is going to be making sure the groomsmen aren’t throwing up on anything. Can you get them spruced up in two hours?”

He chuckled. “This isn’t my first rodeo,” he assured you. “Anything else you need from me?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you a professional best man or something?”

He grinned. “Nah. I just take the ‘best’ part of best man seriously. I’m gonna be the best you ever had, anyway.”

You had looked away from him as he spoke, but this last remark brought your attention to him in shock. “What did you just say to me?” you asked him, suddenly very aware of just how close he was standing.

“I’m going to be the best best man you ever worked with?” he said, an innocent question in his voice, but an absolutely wicked look in his eyes. You knew you hadn’t misheard him, and now that you were looking at him, you knew he hadn’t misspoken either. What had happened inside your chest when you’d realized this had been both simple and embarrassing — you felt a shiver down your spine, and you had visibly shaken it off. His eyebrows had shot past his hairline, and you had tried to play it off. “Well, I hope you don’t let me down,” you’d said.

He turned on his heel, and the way he sauntered away had made you realize he knew you were affected, as much as you’d hate to admit it. “I could never,” he called over his shoulder, heading to the men’s dressing room.

You had had to take a deep breath after he left, trying to exhale the very visceral tension you felt in his wake. You had a lot to focus on — this wedding had a lot of moving parts to it, and definitely wasn’t one where you could afford to be off your game. So you doubled down, losing yourself in greeting the important players, including the darling bride and groom. After you were certain everyone was taken care of, you reviewed your agenda.

In two hours, the rehearsal would begin. The ceremony wasn’t complicated on the surface -- just the usual processional, vow reading, ring exchange, and recessional -- but the optics were going to be an ordeal. It was a dry run, without any of the fancy tech that would come for the actual ceremony, since the bride and groom wanted it to be a surprise, but it was essential for you to know just when each contraption needed to start, as well as all of the people who were being paid to work those contraptions.

You set about your tasks, giving orders where necessary and helping where you could. About fifteen minutes into this, a voice called your name -- a voice that, for all your trepidation, somehow made your name seem more real to you than it had when anyone else spoke it. You turned to see Heeseung approaching you. He’s cleaned up, exchanging his sweats and hoodie for a dark blue knit polo and white chinos, his hair pushed off his forehead and his smile that same nagging shade of familiar. “Hey,” he says with a nod. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty well,” you said. “What’s up?”

“I need you to help me avert a crisis,” he explained.

“What’s gone wrong?” you asked, suddenly on high alert.

“Hannah’s uncle is here, and he wasn’t invited. I need him thrown out,” Heeseung said offhandedly. “I’m happy to do the actual throwing part, but he’ll just come back, so I need you to let everyone at the venue know that if they see him they need to send him away.”

Your eyes went wide. “Okay, I can do that,” you agreed quickly. “Anything else you need?”

His face split into a sly smile. “So many things,” he said softly, “but for now, no. Thanks for your help.”

You clenched your jaw for a brief moment. “What’s your deal?” you asked him softly. “Why do you keep talking like that?”

“Like what?” he said innocently.

“Like you’re hitting on me,” you replied, your tone sharp.

He considered you for a moment. “I am hitting on you,” he had finally admitted. “I think you’re beautiful and I’d love to take you on a date sometime.”

“Huh?” you had said, completely flabbergasted at this admission.

“I am interested in getting to know you better,” he enunciated.

“No, I know what going on a date means,” you had said, suddenly annoyed. “But you can’t be serious. We met ten minutes ago. Don’t you think that’s a bit shallow?”

He laughed then. “You’re worried it’s just because of your looks?”

“You know almost nothing about me beyond that,” you had said, crossing your arms in front of you. “So it’s hard to believe it could be something else.”

He took a step toward you. What is with this guy and standing too close? you’d thought to yourself. “I was actually there on your consultation call with Jake and Hannah, just out of frame. And I’m very drawn to the way you handle your business. I can tell there’s a lot of structure to it, but a whole lot of love, too. Just like a wedding should be.”

“Oh?” you said, although stupidly, your cheeks were on fire. “And that one conversation was enough to tell you everything you needed to know about me? Why don’t we save time and just have a double wedding, then?” you said sarcastically.

Heeseung took yet another step, standing so close his breath moved your hair. “If you insist,” he said in a teasing tone.

You felt like you were on the fast track to crazy town. Before you could really react, though, Heeseung spoke again. “Although, that was kind of the point. I don’t know enough about you -- I want to learn more. Which is why I’m asking you out.”

“Dude,” you said. “This is super weird.”

He shrugged, then stepped back. “If you say so,” he had said, moving back toward the dressing rooms. “But the offer still stands until you reject it. If you tell me no, I won’t ask again.”

Your head had felt like it was spinning. You had tried, and partially succeeded, in pulling yourself together enough to orchestrate the rehearsal, which went well. But afterward, you locked yourself into your car and clutched at your traitorous heart, which was feeling things it had never felt, and which you had convinced yourself you could never feel. Because as you watched the way Heeseung quietly took care of everyone in the wedding party, and the gentle way he interacted with Jake and the other groomsmen, you couldn’t help but feel like he was made for you. Instinctively you knew that to give in to him would be something you desperately needed.

And that is terrifying.

The wedding didn’t help your case at all. Minus the fact that Heeseung wiped away tears as he saw Hannah walk down the aisle toward a beaming, weeping Jake, it was the look Heeseung had given you as he gave his best man speech. “Just so everyone knows,” he had begun, avoiding your gaze, “I wrote this five months ago, and have barely edited it since.” The crowd gave uncertain laughs — it seemed an odd thing to say.

And then he took a deep breath and said, “people fall in love every day, but for some people, it’s different. For some people,” he had pressed on, and his eyes had found yours, the stars in them as convincing as his words, “it’s like that first warm breeze as you enter a supermarket in the wintertime. The world stops for just a minute, and it feels so comforting, so familiar, so real, that even in the dead of a winter’s night you’ve found somewhere that flowers can bloom.” And, inexplicably, your eyes fill with tears as they stare into his.

He continued on after that, his eloquently worded speech wishing the couple well. It took everything in you not to rush him immediately after he sat down — because how would that look? So you waited until Jake and Hannah were enveloped in their first dance as a couple. Your job was basically finished anyway, so you whispered his name from behind him and nodded out the door.

“What?” He asked the minute he got you into the hallway. “Have you reconsidered?”

You whacked him on the arm. “What are you playing at?” you shouted in a whisper-tone. “I’m not sure what to even say at this point.”

He gave you a look that seemed to say “are you serious?” “I saw the tears in your eyes. You must’ve been feeling it,” he said with a grin. “I won’t apologize for affecting you like this, if that’s what you want.”

“Why not?” you had replied, incensed.

He leaned down to meet your gaze at your eye level. “Because I really, really like it,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “And I have a feeling you do too.”

The protest died in your throat as you realized that it’s true — you wanted him to keep being this way, because you’ve enjoyed the sparring, the playful banter, and the undivided attention, all from this bewildering man who has laid your best safety plans to smithereens. You realized you wanted to see what happens if he keeps going. You wanted to see what you might do.

Just then, a drunken shout of rage sounded from down the long corridor. It was Hannah’s uncle, his face red with inebriation, and he came staggering down the hallway with a finger waggling at you and Heeseung. “We gotta go,” Heeseung said, tugging at your sleeve.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Lead him away from the reception!”

Together, you had climbed a short staircase, Heeseung hot on your trail, and raced down the following halllway, which is where Heeseung had grabbed you and tucked you both away into this small closet, placing a hand over your mouth.

Which brings you to now. Heeseung is inches from your face, and your earlier realization becomes muddled with a different, and possibly more compelling realization: you really want to know what those lips taste like.

To postpone the inevitable, you lift an arm and brace it against his chest. “Do you do this to all the wedding planners?”

“Nope,” he says. “You’re just my dream girl, and you happen to be a wedding planner.”

“Dreams aren’t real,” you whisper, trembling a bit at the closeness of him, the warmth in the closet, the frenetic thoughts bouncing aggressively in your skull, and the undeniable throbbing of your stupid heart.

“They could be, if you gave ‘em half a chance,” he says, and his smile drops. “I know what you’re probably thinking. ‘Give it two months, then the honeymoon phase will fade away and he’ll realize his mistake.’”

“That’s nearly spot-on,” you say, sounding impressed despite yourself.

“I know, I’m amazing,” he says. “But listen — I’m not that guy. I know what I want, and I commit. It’s really that simple.”

You bite your lip, hesitating on the edge of speech, on the edge of a cliff.

He can see you deliberating. “Okay, what do I have to do?” He asks desperately. “Just tell me. I’ll prove it to you. Give me a week, and then —“

But he is interrupted as you grab his lapel and pull him into a kiss.

He is stunned — and then he responds. He snakes his fingers into your hair and kisses you soundly, deliberately, as though there is nothing else to the world but this janitor’s closet and you. After what feels like years, you break apart. “We never speak of this,” you say. “You leave right now. I’ll come back in ten minutes. If you hang around and help me clean up, you can have my phone number. Deal?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says in a daze.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #kpop #enhypen imagines #heeseung #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader

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chelseachilly · 10 months

Text

THIS LOVE - chapter one | i can make the bad guys good for a weekend

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.5k

summary: you and ben attend your first event as a “couple” - chelsea’s annual charity gala

A/N: thanks for all your messages about the little prologue i posted last week! i’m so excited for this story and i’m glad you guys are too :) this chapter title is from blank space by taylor swift, each chapter will correspond with a 1989 lyric

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You don’t know what you anticipated your life to look like after you agreed to be Ben’s fake girlfriend, but it proves very quickly to be more of a commitment than you imagined.

In the first week alone, you have to go two meetings with him and his team to discuss what your “relationship” is going to look like, what your story is, and how you’re going to sell it to the public.

His publicist also tries to get you to sign a contract and an NDA, both of which Ben insists are unnecessary.

It feels weird for you to be involved in such an elaborate lie, and Ben obviously senses your discomfort as he tells you a few times that you can back out if you want. You know that he needs this, though, or he wouldn’t have asked you in the first place, so you wouldn’t dream of it.

You end up going with a simple story that doesn’t deviate too much from the truth - you two are childhood best friends who recently realized there’s more than friendship there and decided to explore a romantic relationship. The only change you have to make to your lifestyle, according to Shreya, is attending some high-profile events as Ben’s date and behaving like a couple whenever you’re in public.

It doesn’t sound too difficult, at least apart from having to pretend you’re in love with your best friend, but it’s definitely not a small lifestyle change.

Your first appearance as a “couple” is Chelsea’s annual charity gala, which most of the boys bring their wives or girlfriends to, at which you’ll be expected to wear a fancy dress and pose for photos with him and generally behave like Ben’s girlfriend.

You’ve gone on some nice holidays and been to some fancy restaurants with Ben over the years, but this is different. That much is clear when you get to Ben’s after work on Friday to get ready for the gala he’s taking you to and find racks and racks of designer gowns in his living room.

“What’s all this?” you ask as your eyes scan the dozens of shimmering dresses.

“Oh, my stylist sent them over for you,” Ben shrugs. “I know you said you had a dress, but feel free to pick one of these if you want. It’s on me, obviously.”

The dress you were going to wear is nothing compared to any of these, but you figure if you’re going to be a believable football WAG you need to dress the part.

“You know, I really don’t like you spending money on me,” you sigh.

“I know,” Ben chuckles - you’ve made that quite clear over the years. “But you’re giving up your Friday night to go to a stupid posh gala with me that I know you’ll hate, so let me buy you a stupid posh dress.”

“Fine,” you smile, standing on your tiptoes to quickly peck his cheek before going to browse your options.

After selecting a dress, you head upstairs to get ready in the guest bedroom that’s yours whenever you crash here.

You take your time doing your hair and makeup before slipping into the shiny silver gown you picked out. It’s made out of a silky material and there’s a slit up the leg, but it’s still modest enough for the gala. You trust that Ben’s stylist would’ve picked clothing suitable for the event, even though it’s fancier than anything you would typically wear.

Just as you’re struggling with the zipper at the back, there’s a knock on the door accompanied by Ben’s voice asking if you’re ready.

“Yeah, can you zip me up?” you shout back, giving him permission to enter.

As Ben walks in, you turn to face him, taking in the rare sight of him in a suit. The traditional black suit he has on is perfectly tailored and, you have to admit, he cleans up nice.

He blinks a couple times at the sight of you, his eyes scanning the gown you picked out.

“What is it?” you ask, suddenly feeling a bit insecure. “Is the dress alright?”

“What?” Ben asks, seeming a bit dazed for a moment. “Oh, um, yeah! No, it’s great. You look great. I’m just so used to seeing you in scrubs or joggers.”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “That’s a nice way to call me a slob.”

“I’m trying to compliment you, dummy,” Ben replies, rolling his eyes as he walks over to you.

You turn around so he finish doing up the dress, which he does quickly and easily. You try not to think about how many girls’ dresses he’s helped zip up, and how many more he’s taken off.

“Alright,” Ben says, gently patting your arm as he finishes. “Good to go? The car’s waiting out front.”

“Yep, ready.”

You slip on the shoes that accompany the dress, a similar shade of silver, and grip onto the railing as you descend Ben’s spiral staircase in the slightly precarious heels.

You both climb into the back of the sleek SUV waiting out front to take you to the hotel in Chelsea where the gala is being held. Your nerves begin to settle in on the drive as you realize that this is actually happening, and you’re going to have to put on a show in front of hundreds of people and cameras in just a few minutes.

“Hey, you okay?” Ben asks, looking up from his phone with a concerned gaze in your direction.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you say with a forced smile. He obviously doesn’t believe you - he knows you too well for that - and continues to glare at you, waiting for the truth. “I just…do you really think this is believable?”

Ben frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Like, us as a couple,” you sigh. “I mean, how many footballers do you know that are dating a nurse? Or anyone that isn’t a size zero model for that matter?”

You both know it’s unlike you to talk yourself down, as you’re generally fairly confident, but you can’t help but feel insecure about walking into a room filled with beautiful women who are a lot more comfortable in this world than you are.

Ben, to his credit, looks genuinely appalled.

“Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that,” he jests, poking you in the ribs. “You look amazing. They’ll all be wondering how I landed you, not the other way around.”

You can’t help but blush a bit, shoving Ben’s chest lightly.

“Save it for the cameras, Benji,” you say with a slight eye roll, though your smile betrays you.

He grimaces slightly at the nickname that he hates but begrudgingly allows you and only you to call him.

“Also, let’s be honest, you save lives for a living and I kick a ball around,” he points out. “The whole point of this is that you’re helping my image, remember?”

“That’s true, I guess I am out of your league,” you tease, making Ben stick his tongue out at you like he would when you were kids.

You pull up to the hotel soon after, and you brace yourself as the driver opens the door for you. The flashing lights of the cameras are blinding the moment you’re exposed to them, making you squint slightly.

Ben steps out first before offering you a hand to help you out of the car, waiting until your feet are securely on the ground before letting go.

“You ready?” he asks, gesturing with his head to the red carpet that awaits you.

You glance over at the carpet, which is lined with more paparazzi. Thankfully, you recognize some of Ben’s teammates immediately, which makes you feel a bit more at ease.

“Yeah,” you nod, taking Ben’s outstretched arm.

As you make your way into the carpet, you can feel your heart racing. The paps are calling out Ben’s name, wanting him to look in their direction, and it’s all a bit overwhelming.

Your train of thought is immediately paused as Ben slides his arm around your waist, settling it low on your hip. It’s much more intimate than any way he’s touched you before, but Shreya’s words from your meeting a few days prior echo in your mind.

You need to act like a couple. It needs to seem natural.

It definitely feels a bit strange having your friend touch you like this, but once you’re over the initial surprise, you actually find Ben’s arm around you to be incredibly grounding. You lean into his touch as you smile for the cameras, trying to look the part of the supportive girlfriend.

“You’re doing great,” Ben murmurs softly in your ear. “Almost done.”

You pose for a few more photos before he leads you toward the entrance. You know you’ll have to keep up appearances for the rest of the evening, but you’re glad the most public part of it is over.

As you enter the stunning ballroom, filled with many familiar faces of Chelsea’s players and staff, Ben’s arm remains around your waist.

“So, who here actually knows about our…arrangement?” you ask quietly as you move through the room.

You had both already informed your close friends and family about the situation to avoid any confused texts when the photos of you and Ben acting as a couple made their way online.

You know Ben told his best mates, like Tom, Harvey, Anish, Madders, and obviously Mason, who had come to be a close friend of yours over the years he and Ben were together at Chelsea too. You just aren’t sure if he told anyone at the club.

“Just Reece,” Ben says. “He asked if I was bringing a date and I figured since he knows you, it would make sense to tell him the truth.”

While you’re friendly with a lot of Ben’s teammates, you haven’t spent much time with most of them and they likely don’t know the extent of your friendship with Ben and wouldn’t bat an eye at the two of you now “dating.” You’ve known Reece for years, though, and he would definitely be confused by this sudden change.

“Okay,” you murmur, “so we have to act like a couple all night, basically?”

“Basically,” Ben says with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, I know it’s weird. But we don’t really have to do anything special, I’ll just tell people you’re my girlfriend if anyone asks.”

“Oh, so we don’t have to go up on the stage and make out?” you mutter sarcastically. “What a relief.”

Ben chuckles and nudges you in the arm.

“I think no kissing is probably a good ground rule,” Ben suggests. “Sorry if the touching and stuff out there was too much.”

“No, it’s fine, if we’re gonna do this we have to sell it,” you shrug. “But I agree, there’s no amount of money you could possibly earn from improving your brand that would be worth kissing you. It’s too gross.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Could you at least lower your voice? Don’t really need people hearing my girlfriend say kissing me is gross.“

You laugh as Ben grabs two champagne flutes from a server and passes you one, which you clink against his before taking a sip. You definitely need some alcohol to get through this whole evening of pretending to be Ben’s girlfriend.

As you find your seats, you’re relieved to see that you’re sitting with Reece and his girlfriend Mia, meaning you won’t have to talk about your fake relationship all through dinner.

“Hey, it’s the happy couple,” Reece jokes as Ben pulls out a chair for you to sit next to Mia. “You look nice, Y/N.“

“Thanks, Reece,” you say as you hug Mia. “It’s nice to see you guys. This event is way too posh for me.”

“I know how you feel,” Mia smiles. “It felt weird the first time I came to one of these. And obviously it’s even weirder for you, with this whole…situation.”

“Yeah,” Reece says, lowering his voice a bit to ensure only the three of you can hear. “How the hell did Chilly get you to agree to this? Does he have blackmail on you or something?”

“Well, I do have some pretty embarrassing drunken Snapchat videos-“ Ben begins to say, but your glare cuts him off and he shakes his head and laughs. “Nah, mate. She’s just the fucking best.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, but you don’t have too much time to think about why before Ben and Reece have changed the subject to football.

A photographer comes around to take photos of each table, and Ben rests his arm on the back of your chair and leaves it there afterward as the four of you continue to chat.

Ben and Reece eventually go to get you guys another round of drinks before the entertainment begins - though the boys will have to stick to water for the rest of the night unless they want to hear about it from Poch at training on Monday.

“You know, you two actually make a convincing couple,” Mia says with a wink when you two are alone at the table.

“Yeah, right,” you chuckle, fiddling with a cocktail napkin. “I’m glad you think it’s believable, though. The sooner we improve Ben’s image, the sooner we can stop doing this.”

Mia nods, though she still looks a bit uncertain. “Right, well, he owes you big time. There’s a lot of scrutiny that comes with being in the public eye. You’ll be taking on all the risk of dating a footballer without any of the reward. That’s really generous of you.”

Honestly, you hadn’t thought too much about how all of this might impact you. You just knew that Ben needed your help.

Although you’re a bit tempted to check Twitter and see if people have already begun to talk about you, you decide you’ll deal with that later and just try to enjoy your evening for now.

Your anxieties do ease significantly when Ben returns to the table with your favourite drink in hand and a smile on his face.

“You good?” he asks softly, leaning in close so only you can hear.

You nod, returning his smile. “Just a bit nervous still.”

“You’re doing amazing,” Ben says sincerely. “But I know this isn’t how you would want to spend your Friday night, so thank you.”

“For the millionth time, it’s no big deal,” you insist. “This isn’t so bad, anyways. I’m just overthinking everything like always.”

“Well, I want you to tell me if any of this gets to be too much, at any point, and that’ll be the end of it,” he says firmly. “Okay?“

You nod, meeting his soft gaze and feeling your worries melt away even more.

“Okay.”

As the lights dim and the musical entertainment for the evening begins, Ben’s arm once again finds its way to the back of your chair and his hand loosely plays with a strand of your hair.

It’s too dark for anyone but you to notice, but for some reason, you don’t bother pointing that out to him.

A/N: let me know what you think so far! hoping to have the next chap out soon :)

tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll (let me know if you would like to be added!)

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #this love #my fics

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pinesfamilyguidetotheweird · 7 months

Text

Gravity Falls Thoughts: Ford and Trauma™ Part 2 (Forced Insomnia)

Annnnnd here we are with Part 2 of Ford and Trauma™!

Last time, we tackled the likelihood of Ford living off of pills and coffee over the last 30 years. So, what’s the logical next part?

Perhaps one of the most popular Ford ships out there!

Ford x Sleeeeep!!!!

Or…his problems with it. Let’s go with that.

If Gravity Falls went a bit longer (like if it had 3 seasons), this could have been a running gag of sorts for Ford, his lack of sleep or at least the repercussions of said lack of sleep, such as him dozing off in weird places.

And you can blame a certain dream demon for that.

Not long after Ford learns of Bill’s true colors, Ford did anything he could to prevent Bill from having any control of the situation…that includes depriving himself of sleep due to his deal with Bill.

…Yeah…um…there is a glaring issue on that plan, I must say. And that is the fact that depriving yourself of sleep…will not be beneficial in the long run.

According to Healthline, there are 5 Sleep Deprivation Stages, each stage is determined by the many hours of no sleep.

Stage 01 is after 24 hours of no sleep. A personal fact here, y’all: I’ve done this before twice in my life, staying up for about 24 hours…it was not fun both times.

While not necessarily a cause for major problems, there will be some issues, such as decreased alertness, drowsiness, fatigue, increased risks of mistakes…

Stage 02, after 36 hours (A day and a half), and you’ll start experiencing severe cognitive impairment. Not to mention an overwhelming desire for sleep and the likelihood of having microsleeps (short bouts of sleep that lasts for about 30 secs) is possible.

Come Stage 03 (after 48 hours) and hoooo…boy, things aren’t lookin’ good at all! This is where hallucinations can start setting in. Which, in Ford’s paranoid case, is a definite cause for concern. And there’s depersonalization, anxiety, heightened stress levels, increased irritability, and extreme fatigue. Microsleeps becomes more of a guarantee. And you won't realize it.

At Stage 04 (after 72 hours), along with more frequent and longer microsleeps, the hallucinations could get more complex.

Then finally, at Stage 05 (after 96 hours and more), you’ll start to experience a little thing called sleep deprivation psychosis, when your perception of reality is severely distorted due to lack of sleep.

So…not much of a shock to see this…

And we don’t even know how long Ford had been trying to keep himself awake. Even Journal 3 (I have the regular edition) doesn’t provide the answer for this except for the mad scrawlings of CAN’T SLEEP and the hellish amount of coffee he drank.

This can also explain his insistence on preserving his journals instead of just destroying them. He’s not thinking clearly due to lack of sleep.

It is possible to recover from this, though, it will take a while.

It can take days or weeks to recover from a bout of sleep deprivation. Just 1 hour of sleep loss requires 4 days to recover. The longer you’ve been awake, the longer it will take to get back on track.

And considering that Ford got sucked into the Portal before he could have a moment for well deserved rest…kind of a similar situation to his crap diet while on the run, how often was Ford able to get a full night's rest? I mean...look how he sleeps now, in day wear with his coat, glasses, and boots on, like he has to be prepared to book it...

It’s honestly a wonder that Ford came back to our dimension without sporting some eyebags that would give Shouta Aizawa (or even Toshinori Yagi) a run for his money.

…Question: So, Bill had free reign of entering Ford’s mind when he sleeps, right? Did Bill still do that during Ford’s travels up until he got that plate installed?

...So, what should I talk about next? The bullying Ford had to endure? Father of the Year, Filbrick Pines? Possible complex PTSD? Major Guilt? Wounds and potential complications? Bill -fucking- Cipher and the abuse?

#gravity falls #stanford pines #ford pines #grunkle ford #trauma #gravity falls thoughts

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rshmra · 10 months

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PRETTY BOY!

plot: niki swears he met the girl of his dreams at the convenience store late one night- however, his discovery proves to be misguided. the "girl" he likes is actually just a really pretty boy, and he's the main vocalist of the new and wildly popular boy group of four, X_CAPE.

<- prev. masterlist. next. ->

written: 2.4k words

chapter eleven: emo shins

"for the last time, stay away from abigail, she's mine."

"not if i get to her first."

"you bitch-"

the seemingly never-ending squabble for the fictional female continues, eventually resulting in yn losing the current battle.

he curses as riki's avatar manages to swoop in mere seconds before his can, gifting the girl a chunk of amethyst. "shit-faced ball licker." ni-ki's laugh fills his ears as he adjusts his phone's position with one hand, flipping him the bird with the other.

"that's a new one."

it's been well past an hour since they began the call, their other members preparing for bed at this point. the facetimes they have can get kind of random, but usually they'll either fall asleep watching a movie on netflix or just end up in a multiplayer game on switch. yn introduced stardew valley to riki a week or so ago, and since then they've been grinding co-op on their shared "peeniz farm". ridiculously immature, but both found the title hilarious. however, there seems to be a recurring argument over who gets a certain purple-haired character.

"she doesn't even like your gifts, all you give her is flowers."

"because i don't spend all my days in the fucking mines?! weirdo."

"who fishes and forages the whole time again?"

"me, ki. i'm the one that touches grass."

"hey."

"shut up," yn rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, finally relenting with a sigh. "whatever, you can have her. i'll just go for the emo instead, i guess."

"at last, you give up." ni-ki exhales contentedly, then frowns. "wait what emo."

"you know, the emo guy that never comes out of his room? hair looks like a bird?" yn racks his brain for the name, snapping his fingers once he gets it. "sebastian, that's it!"

"oh."

an elongated pause ensues.

on riki's side, it's due to a mild... celebration, of sorts. he has to move from the camera view in order to quietly pump his fist into the air, paired with a whispered "yesss" that has jay shooting him a weird glance as he passes by the living room. he hopes he isn't looking into the situation too much, but according to what just happened yn confirmed rather explicitly that he's into guys, which is a total win. yes, they flirt a lot, but not exclusively with each other. plus, it's not like they're being serious. they may have a close relationship, but they've never spoken about this subject before, and riki wouldn't ever make assumptions. he's not a dickbag, he doesn't think a guy's automatically gay just because he appears feminine.

don't get the kid wrong though, he's not quite gotten to finding a label for everything going on. he doesn't know what he... is, he doesn't know anything beyond the fact that he has a small, teensy-weensy crush on yn. he's had one the moment they met, it just took him a little longer to actually acknowledge it, since he's not felt this way for anyone. he hasn't told a soul about this, but clearly sunoo's pieced it together (the bitch knows EVERYTHING) and knowing him he probably let it slip to sunghoon. the others for sure have their suspicions, but they haven't fully caught on yet.

but what if he's only messing around? the possibility majes ni-ki grimace. it's not that deep, it's only a video game. this is much too complicated. does he casually inquire further, or does he leave the topic alone? dammit, decisions, decisions.

meanwhile, yn's kinda freaking on his end. he's managed to maintain a perfectly composed poker face as he shifts to lie down with his nintendo, but the silence is sloely unnerving him. did i just... unintentionally out myself... with a fucking emo? he runs a hand over his long hair, inwardly punching himself. it's okay, it's fine. why would riki judge? they're best friends, he'd never pull that kind of shit. he's nothing like him.

fuck, the overthinking's getting to him. he's ready to use an 'i was just kidding' card until his companion speaks up. "why him, though? go for a better guy, at least."

and just like that all his fears are chased away, replaced by an eased smile as he stares fondly at the boy on his phone rather than the game. "yeah? and who do you suggest?"

"i don't know, like... shane?"

"shane? you've gotta be shitting me."

"why?? what's wrong with him?!"

"what- he's a raging cunt and likes nothing but beer! not my type. incredibly not my type."

"oh?" feeling bold, riki perches his chin in his palm with a smirk, inquiringly peering at yn. "what's your type then, yn?"

immediately he returns the energy. "hm... i dunno..." he acts like he's pondering the question, despite already having a response in mind. "maybe someone like y-"

"yn is that your lychee jelly in the kitchen, 'cause otherwise i'm eating it."

kuli sticks his head im from the doorway of the jack-and-jill bathroom they share, and the moment's over as fast as it began. distracted, yn tears his gaze from niki's upon remembering his prized bucket of sweets he'd left. "touch my snacks and you're fucking dead. be right back," he excuses himself with a quick reassurance, and with that leaves two of his closest friends with each other.

kuli rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the doorframe. "i interrupted something, didn't i."

"if you count arguing over who to go for in stardew valley, then yeah."

the corner of his lip quirks upward. "the correct answer is anyone but shane."

"...he can't be that bad."

"what- he's a raging cunt and likes nothing but beer!"

kuli's surprisingly the only other member of yn's group thar riki really got more acquainted with since being introduced. despite the amount of warnings about how "scary" he could be, kuli was the most friendly and welcoming toward him, especially when they first met. he kinda reminds niki of jungwon, to be honest (especially with the fear factor that plays into both's roles).

it definitely isn't that he doesn't like the remaining two. he just doesn't get the chance to talk to ivory a lot, and with chaeri... it's a little weird. ever since he dropped an absolute bomb with that "no repeat of last time" and conveniently forgot to elaborate, they haven't had much of a conversation. half of riki is tempted to ask about it, but the other half feels like it'd be an invasion of privacy on yn's part. it worries him from time to time, but he figures that if he hasn't been given the entire story then it isn't that important, right?

(oh how wrong he is.)

niki's mouth stretches into a satisfying yawn. it's past 11:30 by now, and he knows he's supposed to wake up early, but he refuses to be the first one to sleep. kuli laughs at him as he shakes himself awake. "just go to bed if you're tired, dude."

"i'm not tired."

"trying to hold out for longer, i see. how sweet!"

"you shut up."

"yeah, shut up." yn grins as he returns with a giant container of jellies and a white loaf in his arms, shoving kuli out of his bedroom as the older laughs and shutting the door. he moves to sit back on his mattress as the loaf jumps onto his head, giggling quietly at riki's sleepy blinking. "does kiki need his nappy wappy-"

"fuck offfffff." he mumbles, tired eyes lighting up once he hears a meow from the loaf. "is that... you have a cat?!"

"ki, i literally showed you him last night."

"...no you didn't." yn heaves a sigh, peeling his chubby pet from his hair and bundling him in his arms. "he looks like a dumpling."

"which is exactly why i named him mandu." he cracks a smile. "let me guess. stupid and unoriginal?"

well, to anyone else niki might laugh and say it's stupid and unoriginal, but this is yn we're talking about here. plus, simping aside, the name really does fit said cat. "no, i like it. it's very, very um... " he struggles to think of a word. "...food-related?"

"you need sleep."

"leave me alone, i don't wanna end the call and if i bring my phone back into the room sunoo'll never shut up and you know how annoying he gets."

"i'm telling him you said that." heeseung grins as he walks by. "night yn!"

"night heeseung!"

"don't you dare-"

riki tries to stand up from the couch, only for his knees to give out after being curled up on them for so long. yn unleashes a high-pitched cackle, and heeseung takes off to his room.

their night ends shortly after this, with both falling asleep within mere minutes (though not without a brief twitter login on both parts). however, as usual, the phone stays on for hours, even as they slumber.

notes: again, i apologize for the long wait... cant promise it wont happen again tho 😥. got carried away writing then got lazy at the end,,, do yall prefer written parts or not? also forgot abt the twt privs whoops, i js wanna jam pack as much fluff as i can into this shit before it gets SERIOUS 😆 yall arent ready

taglist: @silkentides @nikikids @totoroblop @winter-world @phantom-butterfly @simsoobean @byu @noredplz @sh0uj0-r3i @onementally-unstabel-kid @thepeachyhub @enhypen-reblog @ao5riki @bearseulgs @le0-0nidas @gothhyucks @to-toad @ddeonubaby @nootnootpinguuu @sunseeking-cryptid @priochebun

bold can't be tagged!

#x reader #enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enha x male reader #enha x reader #male reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki #enha niki #enhypen social media au #ni ki enhypen #enha #enha smau #enhypen riki #riki x reader #enha riki #niki x male reader

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callsignspark · 9 months

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Mar[r]y Me - part six

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, one (1) drunk asshole, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 5.9k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday!! it's August here in the real world but it's Valentine's Day in the Mar[r]y Me universe, so what will these two do surrounded by love and pink hearts? can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts!

part six - pancakes

God, I made a mistake.

Bradley has suffered through five days of the same thought on a constant loop. His brain started up the second he walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Only getting short reprieves when he had to fly. Even being asleep wasn’t safe; Mary had been consuming his nights, wonderful dreams of being with her intermixed with bad dreams of having to watch her with another man.

He felt like he was living one of those nightmares for the last three songs, watching Mary dance and giggle with some guy in his twenties.

I should be the one making her laugh. My hands should be on her hips, not his.

He cursed Natasha for dragging them to this stupid Valentine’s Day speed-dating event. Except, the speed dating isn’t actually speed dating; it’s some sort of convoluted speed dancing.

As announced by the host, there are only two rules:

Every person must wear the wristband they received upon entry; the wristbands correspond to your relationship status, so respect the color code system.

If you’re dancing, you have to dance with a new person for each song.

“Unless you’re really hitting it off with your dance partner.” DJ Socket had added with a wink before starting the night off with a horrible remixed version of My Funny Valentine.

Natasha, Callie, and Mary had laughed at the bad song choice before throwing back a shot of tequila and shimmying their way to the dance floor, pink wristbands glowing under the disco ball.

According to the event flyer that had been spammed in the group chat for the last two weeks, a pink wristband meant single and ready to mingle.

Bradley watches as the infant with a bad haircut tries to hit on Mary to what he thinks is a Justin Bieber song, absentmindedly playing with his own wristband. White. Here for fun, not to flirt.

He’s having a terrible time.

“Rooster. Rooster? Bradley!”

The use of his real name snaps him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, Bob, what was that?”

“I asked if you were okay. You don’t look great.”

He feels his heart clench a little bit. He’s always had a soft spot for the bespectacled man, Bob paying attention to small things that others rarely caught. Though even a blind person could see the way Bradley is staring at Mary, the pining radiating beyond the two high-top tables the Daggers had claimed as theirs.

“Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long week.”

Bob raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, but Harvard interrupts him before he can investigate further.

“It’s weird seeing the girls in dresses instead of their coveralls.”

“I’m just wondering how they convinced Callie to wear heels. Omaha practically had to bribe her to wear something other than her Vans to our wedding.” Fritz says, his red wristband - taken and in love - flashing when he takes a sip of his bright pink drink. “God, these drink specials are awful! This is the last time Phoenix gets to choose where we go.”

The boys laugh as his face twists in disgust. Natasha is great at many things, choosing a good bar is not one of them.

“We should have let Jake plan; he found that complex with the mini golf and everything. That was so much fun!” Aaron adds before turning to Javy. “Where is Jake? I thought he was coming.”

Javy shrugs. “He was supposed to be here, but he texted me and said he wasn’t going to make it. Something came up, apparently. He said everything was fine, so I’ll check on him tomorrow. Make sure he’s all good.”

“Mary looks really good.”

Bradley stiffens, his mood dropping from happy back down to pissed off as steam pours out of his ears. She doesn’t just look good. She looks amazing. The light green, satiny material of her dress is hugging her figure just right, showing off her curves in the most delicious way. The slit up her leg showing off the thighs he dreams about getting his hands on again.

She looks gorgeous.

But Harvard doesn’t get to say that about his girl.

She’s not your girl. You fucked up.

“There she is! Can I get you a drink, ma’am?” Harvard stands up, holding his bar stool steady while Mary climbs on, scooting it in when she’s settled.

“If you’re going up, I’ll take a water, please.” She smiles at him, cheeks flushed from dancing.

“You want anything stronger to go with that water?”

“Vodka sprite, if it’s not too much of a bother.”

“You got it, sweetheart; anything for my new backseater!” Harvard flashes his toothpaste commercial-ready smile at her before making his way through the crowd to the bar. Him and his pink wristband quickly getting lost in the masses.

“I missed something. Backseater?” Javy asks.

Bradley watches her laugh and lean on the table, grabbing a chip after Aaron pushes the basket toward her. “He’s just trying to be funny. We’re both headed up to Lemoore next week - I’m helping out on some repairs, and he’s doing some sort of mentor program? I don’t know exactly. Anyway, Cyclone suggested we drive together since we’re staying at the same hotel. I told Brigham he’s driving since he insisted on getting this godawful 30-foot pickup truck, which makes me his temporary backseater.”

“Make sure you don’t eat anything before riding with him, or you’ll paint the windshield.” Omaha jokes.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please. If I didn’t hurl after a greenhorn took me up and executed one very poor barrel roll before getting himself grounded, I think I can handle Harvard’s driving.”

“You’ve flown?”

“Was it an FA-18?”

“How do you fuck up a barrel roll?”

“Did you like it?”

Questions are hurled at her from every direction, all the boys interested in the fact that their favorite mechanic had been airborne in the backseat of a fighter jet before they knew her.

“I did like it!”

Bradley’s heart warms a bit when she answers his question first.

“It was an FA-18, and I think we technically hit Mach-1, but my brain has burned the trauma of that hop from my memory. It was fun until that bad maneuver because when I say greenhorn, I mean green. Like as fresh as you can possibly be.” She shutters, only partially joking. “But I didn’t throw up, and that’s a major point of pride for me.”

“It’s only because you hadn’t eaten yet that day.”

The warmth disappears, again, when she smacks Brigham’s arm after he puts her drinks down. “I told you that in confidence! And I think it still counts because I’m a civilian and have done none of the training you guys do.”

“How did you even get permission to fly?” Javy questions, stealing a sip of her water, grinning at her when she glares.

“When I was in Florida, I got close with some of the higher-ups, and one of them arranged for me to go on a simple flight so I could see what it’s like. It was really sweet of him!”

“Who did you sweet talk into getting in a jet?”

“He sweet-talked me! Actually, it was more like he manipulated me. It came up that I’d never been on a flight - which is totally normal for an engineer, by the way - and he egged me on until I agreed to go up.”

“Oh my god, you got suckered into a ride with a flight school newbie? Who managed that?”

“I don’t know if you guys know him. I don’t think he was in Pensacola when you were going through flight school, but it was Admiral-”

“Hey, baby, wanna dance?”

Her face changes immediately, annoyance spreading quickly. “No. I’ve already told you I don’t. Leave me alone.”

“Oh, c’mon, you know you want this-”

“The lady told you no. I suggest you listen to her before we make you listen.” Omaha threatens from his position across the table. Bradley is happy that Neil spoke up before him because he wouldn’t have been so nice about it.

The pushy asshole looks around the table and decides not to press his luck after seeing eight men puffed up, ready to defend their friend.

“What a dick! He had a red wristband on, and he still tried to hit on you!”

“Welcome to being a woman, Mickey. Doesn’t matter if you’ve told them no or if they have a partner. Men will be gross and overbearing if they think it’ll benefit them.”

She sinks back in her chair, sipping her drink and sending a small smile to the boys in thanks. The group disburses a bit, most joining Nat and Callie on the dance floor, leaving Mary sitting with Fritz, Bradley, and Bob.

“Hey, speaking of gross and overbearing, did you hear the rumor that Admiral Cain is coming to the program review next week?”

It perks her back up; she excitedly leans forward, happy to talk about something else.

“Oh! That’s not a rumor, Fritz. That’s 100% true. He’ll be presenting his case for increasing unmanned drone research. But he’s going first on Tuesday, and then he’s back in Washington that same afternoon, so thankfully, we’ll only have to deal with him for a few hours.”

“Thank god, I had to deal with him for a little bit when I was at Norfolk, and he was worst. I know drones are getting more popular for high-risk missions, but they’ll never be able to fully replace pilots.” Billy clinks his bottle against Mary’s glass when she holds it up, swallowing the last of his beer. “You’ll have to excuse me; it looks like my husband wants me to dance with him.”

Bradley watches Mary stare longingly at the dance floor, her eyes following the happy couple dance in perfect sync with each other.

If you hadn’t messed up, that could be the two of you out there.

“So, what parts of program review do you have to sit in on?”

Mary turns, a soft smile on her face - Bradley knows her soft spot for Bob matches his own. Both of them protective over the younger man who cares so much, yet so quietly.

“I have to be there for almost all of it. I’m presenting a few sections, plus I have to do a shop tour and demo, which will be uber fun.” She rolls her eyes, knowing how some admirals like to knit-pick at how a shop is run and organized. “All my free time this week will be finishing my slides and polishing my presentation.”

“Wow, on top of helping with Lemoore’s repairs? You’re gonna be busy these next two weeks.”

“Very busy, but we’ve already done the repairs I’m helping with down here, so theirs should go much smoother! But I'm genuinely excited for program review because I’ll get to see some people I worked with in Florida! I think I’m going to try and poach a few of them that I really miss.”

“You’re gonna steal your friends to work for you?” Bradley regrets the question when he sees her face falter for a split second, realizing his tone wasn’t as joking as intended.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it. They’re really smart and talented, plus it’d be nice to work with them again.”

The relief that breezes through his chest at her grin and kind tone quickly disappears when Harvard pops up and pulls her toward the dance floor.

“Hang- hang on!” She giggles, turning to Bob. “Would you mind keeping an eye on my purse while Brigham steps on my toes to bad 90s love songs?”

Bob’s, “No problem.” overpowers Harvard’s protests of, “I’m not gonna step on your foot again!”

She pecks his cheek, leaving a faint pink stain behind as she follows the Ohio man onto the dance floor. And for several songs, Bradley's stomach twists as he watches his two friends dance pressed close together.

“Why don’t you go dance with her?”

“She doesn’t want to dance with me.”

Bob scoffs. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Bradley, what happened with you two?”

He doesn’t answer; just keeps fiddling with the label on his beer and watching the dance floor. The two sit in uncomfortable silence for the first time in their friendship.

“I fucked up.” He confesses everything to Bob. The night on her couch, their interruption, the tiff just a few days ago. He doesn’t spare any detail, no feelings. “I still don’t know why I didn’t just let her explain! Even if I was mad that she was ignoring me, she had her reasons - she wouldn’t do something like that for no reason!”

Bob is stunned. He doesn’t know what to say to comfort his friend. None of the group’s theories had even been close to the reality of what happened.

“You can’t tell anyone what I just told you, not even Natasha!” Bradley is borderline frantic. “You’re the second person I’ve told, and I don’t know if Mary has told anyone, but I don’t want everyone knowing. I don’t want what happened to be the talk of the group.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Bradley. Not even Nat. But I do get bragging rights when the two of you finally get together.”

“That’s not gonna happen. I messed up too much, man.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

He looks where Bob is pointing, watching as Harvard twirls away with a pretty redhead, leaving Mary dancing by herself. They make eye contact, and he can see the gears in her brain working. She turns around, hips swinging hypnotically, and he loses his breath when she peeks over her shoulder at him. Bradley’s heart soars when she wiggles a finger at him.

She’s calling me over. Maybe I didn’t totally fuck this up.

His joy is short-lived. The same red wristband asshole as before getting in her space, trying to grab her ass as she pushes him away. Bradley practically falls out of his chair to get to her.

“Get away from me!” Mary pushes the stranger’s hands off and stumbles back from the force, colliding with Bradley’s chest as he comes to help.

He steps forward, angling his body to shield her as she tucks herself into his side. “She’s told you to leave her alone at least twice now. Walk away before we have a problem.”

The sleazy man rolls his eyes, “Whatever, man.”

“No, not “whatever,” man.” Bradley steps forward, disregarding Mary tugging on his arm. Her pleas for him to stop falling on deaf ears. “You’re going to apologize to her.”

“For what? The fat bitch probably liked it. She’s practically begging for it in that dress.”

Bradley doesn’t even think. He lunges, ignoring Mary’s yell for him to stop and taking the asshole down with one punch. He doesn’t get a second one, security interfering and escorting all three out.

The rest of the Daggers make their way outside, everyone awkwardly huddled together as Mary assures the bouncers that she is safe to leave with Bradley, that he’s her friend who was just protecting her from the other man’s unwanted advances.

She’s mad when she joins them. A quiet anger that's palpable, making them all stay quiet instead of joking around like usual.

“Thanks for planning this, Nat. It was really fun until about five minutes ago. I’ll text you about dinner.” She says to the girls, giving Bob a small smile when he hands over her clutch. “Bradley is going to drive me home, but you guys should keep having fun. Brigham, let me know when you want to leave tomorrow, and I’ll see the rest of you when I get back from Lemoore.”

Her clipped tone and her heels furiously clicking on the sidewalk are the only physical indicators of her anger. The group watches her go, stunned. In the year since they were introduced to Mary, it’s the only time they’ve seen her get close to losing her cool.

They had seen her defend herself against misogynistic pilots, making them feel foolish without even raising her voice. They watched her bite her tongue when admirals talked down to her because of her age, letting Mav or Cyclone handle it. In the past eleven months, they had witnessed her ability to handle difficult situations with poise and grace.

But tonight was too much.

After having to deal with yet another demeaning asshole and Bradley’s rash, unwanted heroics, the rage simmering below the surface of her skin was threatening to finally break through.

Bradley follows at a slower pace, keeping an eye on her but giving her space to breathe. He startles at someone grabbing his shoulder, turning with wide eyes to find Bob with a determined look on his face.

“Take her home and apologize; let her explain before you explain your side, okay?” Bradley nods, giving a small smile to his friend. “It’s all gonna be fine; you are made for each other. You can tell me all about how right I am tomorrow morning.”

He makes his way to the car, unlocking and opening the door for Mary, the tiny bit of hope from Bob’s pep talk disappearing when he realizes that she’s giving him the silent treatment. Climbing into the front seat and ignoring the hand he offers, closing the door herself and choosing to stare out the passenger window when Bradley sides into the Bronco.

The drive to her house is quiet; the only sound is the oldies station Bradley turns on in hopes of getting Mary to talk to him. The closer they get to their destination, the more he goes from sad to annoyed.

I was just trying to help. She doesn’t need to ignore me.

They’re both fuming by the time he pulls into the driveway. She slips out of the car, hoping he’ll just go home, but he’s following behind her to the house. One step over the threshold, and he can’t take it anymore.

“Are you gonna stop ignoring me, or should I just go home?”

He watches her shoulders stiffen and feels his stomach drop her eerily calm expression. “I don’t know. Are you actually going to listen to me? Or are you just going to tell me that we should just forget this happened, too?”

“Don’t put that on all on me! This isn’t all my fault! You ignored me for an entire month!”

“Yes! Yes, I did!” She slams her hand on her kitchen island. “And then, when I tried to explain, you didn’t let me say anything! You just said we should forget everything that happened and move on! So I tried to forget! I tried to respect your wishes! But tonight, all you could do was watch me dance with other men!”

His mouth drops open; he didn’t realize she had noticed.

“Yeah! I noticed - you pilots have all the subtly of an elephant in a firework shop with its tail on fire! It’s one or the other, Bradley! We either forget what happened and we see other people, or we talk about what happened and go from there! There’s no in-between option where you get to be upset whenever I flirt with a man that’s not you! So what’s it gonna be? Are we moving on, or are we having a conversation?”

He can’t get words to come out. He knows what he wants, but he can’t speak.

“Well, Bradley?”

Say something, dumbass! She’s not going to wait forever.

She scoffs, rubbing her hands over her face. “I’m going to shower. If you’re still here when I’m done, we’ll talk. If you’re gone, well, then I have my answer.”

He’s frozen in her dining room, wincing back to reality at her bedroom door slamming shut. His phone is ringing before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Rooster? Everything okay?”

“I think I fucked up.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “We fought, man. She noticed I was watching her tonight and yelled at me for not letting her talk last week.”

“Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I’m in her living room.”

“You’re still there? She didn’t kick you out?”

“She said if I’m still here when she’s done showering, we’ll talk about everything.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Bradley.” Bob’s eye-roll is audible on the other end. “Sit down and wait for her to finish showering so you can talk. If she wanted you to leave, she would have no problem sending you packing.”

“You think?”

“She was two seconds from throwing a wrench at my head last week, and I’m her favorite.”

“Well, I don’t know about favor-”

“I am. Now, sit down, shut up, and wait for her.”

The line clicks, and he decides to listen to the advice, depositing his wallet and keys on her entryway table before sitting on her couch. Sinking into the middle cushion, he thinks about the last time he’d been on this piece of furniture.

“You’re so hard.” He’s not sure why she’s surprised. She has to know she’s had him on the verge of an erection since she opened her door this morning.

“You’ve been pressed against me for two hours in these tiny little shorts with no bra on, and you smell good.” He shrugs, feeling sheepish as he explains what got him going.

“Bradley..” The way she says his name borders on a moan, and he can’t help the noise he makes when she pulls his hair.

If she does that again, I’m going to cum.

He grabs her ass and pulls her as close as he can, brushing his other hand up her thigh and boldly dipping into the leg of her pajama shorts, enjoying the scalloped edge of her panties. Their lips brush, and he’s about to move his hand to the gusset of her underwear - he needs to know how wet she is for him - when they’re interrupted.

Between reliving that moment and crafting his apology, he doesn’t hear the shower turn off or her footsteps coming down the hall, only noticing her when she sits in the chair furthest from him.

“I’m sorry-” They start to apologize at the same time.

“I’d like to go first if you don’t mind?” She requests, taking a deep breath when he nods in agreement. “I want to start by apologizing for the last month. It was wrong of me to kick you out that night and then ignore you for a month, and I wish I hadn’t done it.”

“Why did you?”

“Because I got scared. That night… I never do things like that. I never make the first move or act that bold. So the fact that I just climbed on your lap like that - without thinking about it or second-guessing myself - freaked me out. By the time I got Annie back to sleep, I had completely psyched myself out, and I was convinced you didn’t actually want me.”

“That’s- I- did I give any indication that I didn’t want you?” He sputters the question, unsure how she could think that.

“It’s nothing you did, Bradley. It’s all on me, my insecurities. Men rarely - if ever - have had the same… enthusiasm that you did. You were great; this is a me problem.”

“I don’t understand.” He leans forward, wanting to get closer without crossing the boundary she set with her seat choice. “If everything was so great, what went wrong?”

“I’m fat, Bradley.”

He sits up straight, shocked at her words. What does that have to do with anything?

“I’m sorry, I still don’t get what the problem is.”

“I know you don’t understand what it’s like to be a woman, but please believe me when I tell you it’s hard. People are constantly policing and judging your body. Men will just tell you what they think of your body, what they think is wrong with it - unprovoked. And it’s even worse when you’re fat.” She leans back, hugging a pillow to her chest. “I know you didn’t do any of that. But I’ve been fat since I was a kid, so I’ve heard it all for years. And not just men, but from family too. It’s hard to shake those experiences, to ignore the insecurities and just enjoy the moment.”

They sit in silence for a minute, Mary refusing to make eye contact while Bradley tries to figure out his next move.

“Can I come over there?”

The question surprises her, but she nods. His choice to kneel in front of her is another surprise; he can tell from her eyebrows reaching her hairline.

“I’m gonna take this, okay?” He gently tugs the pillow from her hands, tossing it on the couch so there’s nothing between them. When Bradley sees her shirt, his breath hitches in his throat.

She’s wearing his sweatshirt.

“Sorry,” she says shyly, noticing his stare. “I’ve been wearing it to bed; I promise I’ll wash it.”

And as much as he wants to linger in the revelation that she’s been sleeping in his clothes, he pushes through.

“Mary, I’m going to be very honest with you because I need you to understand how much I wanted you that night. Sitting there with you in my lap? That’s the hardest I’ve ever been; I think about it all the time. How warm and soft you were.” He slips his hands into hers. “And I know what you look like. I like the way you look. I like everything about you. Everything. Even the things you don’t like about yourself. You’re so gorgeous.”

He wipes her cheek, brushing a tear away.

“This past month hasn’t changed how I feel about you. I still want you. I’ve never not wanted you. I’ve had a crush on you since the moment Danielle dragged you through the front door of the Hard Deck.”

“Bradley…”

“Not done, still my turn.” He leans up, getting closer to her to get his point across. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to fix this sooner. I was trying to give you the space you wanted, but that was a mistake. After the first week, I should have told you how I was feeling, what I wanted.”

“What do you want now?” Her voice is tiny, and his heart breaks at how uncertain she sounds.

“Still you, honey. I know I said we should forget what happened, but I don’t want to forget. I want to do that again without getting interrupted this time. I want to take you out on a date. I want you. If you’ll have me.”

He watches Mary wrestle with her thoughts, her mouth opening and closing, not sure how to say what she’s thinking. “Just tell me, Mary, whatever it is. I want you to be honest with me.”

“I want that too. I want you. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for it right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“How long have you been flirting with me?” She nudges him back, scooting forward in her chair so her knees brush his chest.

He doesn’t understand the question but answers anyway, wrapping his hands around her legs, stroking his thumbs over her soft skin. “Since that night we met, I didn’t do too good of a job since you spent the evening playing darts with Jake, but that’s how long.”

“That was last January. You’ve been flirting with me for an entire calendar year. And I’m so oblivious that I didn’t even realize you were interested until you were grabbing my ass and moaning against my mouth.” She rubs her face. “So I just need some time to process this because I never thought this - us -could be an option.”

“Okay, how much time are you thinking? How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know… there’s no free time. I’m gone this week, and next week is program review and prepping you guys for deployment. Then you’re in the middle of the ocean for two months.”

“Doesn’t really leave a lot of time for us, does it?” He jokes, squeezing her calves. “We’ll be back the first week of May. There’ll be a few days of debriefing, but then I’m on leave. Why don’t we grab dinner that Sunday? It can be as friends or as something more, whatever you want - whatever you’re ready for at that point. How does that sound?”

“You’re okay with waiting that long?”

“Mariella, it’s been a year, and nothing has changed since I saw you in that red dress. A few extra weeks where we’re just friends? That’s nothing if it means you’re comfortable.”

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.”

“Stop it. This isn’t all on you; I haven’t been the best either.” Bradley’s voice is firm, making sure she’s not placing the entire blame on herself. “We’ll work on it. We’re smart people; we can figure it out.”

“Thank you for being so understanding. I really am sorry about how I acted.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Feeling lighter than they have in weeks, they look at each other and laugh when Mary yawns, her face scrunching up.

“Okay, honey, I think it’s time to get you to bed.” He stands, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll call you when you’re at Lemoore, okay? We’ll talk about our days, and you can complain about Harvard.”

“Why would I complain about Brigham?” She blinks up at him, her eyebrows creasing after a second. “Wait! Are you saying goodbye? You can’t drive home right now; it’s too late!”

He tries to argue but is cut off by her finger pointing at the clock, the two hands telling him it’s almost three in the morning. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“C’mon.” She pulls on his hand, leading him down the hall.

“What are we doing?”

“Going to bed?” She squeaks when he abruptly stops, tugging her off balance.

“Mary, I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Her face is baffled. “Bradley, you’re too tall; it won’t be comfortable. We can share my bed; we’re adults. We can handle it.”

His heart thumps. He wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with her, but he’s afraid of how his body might react to being next to her all night.

“Mary, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t. I also want you to be comfortable, so if you don’t want to share, I’ll take the couch, and you take my bed.”

“But-”

“This is the whole communication thing we just talked about. Believe me when I say that sharing my king-sized bed with you for one night won’t make me uncomfortable.”

Bradley stares into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. “Okay, lead the way then, Vertucci.”

It’s awkward for a moment in her bedroom, the two of them trying to navigate this new situation together. But after some blushing and a few stuttered words, they figure it out. He’s just finished brushing his teeth when they discover that Bradley’s preferred side of the bed matches hers.

“Two peas in a pod.” He jokes as he starts to climb into bed, heart fluttering at the bashful smile on her face.

“What are you doing?”

He freezes, covers pulled back with his knee raised. “Uhhh… getting into bed?”

“Not like that, you’re not.” His wide eyes must give away his confusion and panic because she continues. “Bradley, you are not climbing into my bed, which has nice fresh sheets, with those clothes you wore to the club. God knows what’s on those chairs we sat on.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“You are wearing underwear, right?” He nods, feeling baffled by how this night has progressed. “Then strip, you’re sleeping in your undies.”

Bradley stands there, looking at her snuggled under her quilt, bathed in the soft light of her nightstand lamp, and still wearing his name on her arm. Based on how serious she looks, he’s pretty sure she’s unaware of how flirty her words sound. If she was any other woman, he would make an effort to flirt back, try his best to be sexy as he undresses. Turn it into a striptease.

But it’s Mary, and they just got back to a good place.

So he undresses how he does when he’s alone. Unbuttoning his black shirt methodically, taking note of how her breath hitches when he pulls the tight material off, but not doing anything about it. If he has any control over their situation, there will be plenty of opportunities in the future to make her lose her breath.

He does allow himself to make eye contact while he undoes his jeans, unable to pass up the chance to watch her watch him. He sees her scan his body, can see the hunger in her eyes, can hear the small gulp when she sees the waistband of his underwear appear. He stays steady, folding the pants and draping them over his shirt before slipping under the covers, keeping a respectful distance between them.

“Gonna turn the light out?”

She blinks at him as she processes the question, her eyes hazy from the late hour, and he thinks about how he would love to have this view every night for the rest of his life. He watches as she rolls over, eyes slipping down to the skin that’s exposed when she leans to turn the lamp off. She ends up closer when she rolls back towards him; he can feel the heat of her body radiating towards him.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Mary’s voice is soft, like being too loud will ruin the small bubble they’ve created for themselves. “Do you like pancakes?”

The question makes him think of his mom, how she used to make pancakes on special occasions and sometimes just because it was Tuesday. He never makes them for himself.

“They’re my favorite. Do you make good pancakes?”

“I make the best pancakes.” He can’t see her face, but he can hear her smile. “Night, Bradley.”

He mummers good night back, enjoying the way the mattress moves as she gets comfortable. The scent of her shampoo drifts over him, resurrecting the question that he’d been asking himself for a month.

“Mary? Can I ask you a question?” His voice is quiet, scared to ruin things but needing to know the answer.

She hums, “What’s up?”

“That night. If we hadn’t gotten interrupted, what do you think would have happened?” It’s quiet. He can hear her hands playing with the edge of the sheet, fingers nervously folding and unfolding the cotton. “I’m sorry, you don’t have-”

“No, it’s okay, Bradley.” A hand brushes his chest, warm fingers ghosting over his skin in search of his hand. She continues once their fingers are intertwined. “If we hadn’t been interrupted, we would have had sex. We would’ve made out for a while, and then I would have ridden you right there on the chaise.”

“Fuck…”

She makes a small noise of agreement. “I don’t know about after, though, if we would have had a better go of things that we have. It might have been worse, I’m not sure.”

“Can’t change the past. I’m just glad we’re fixing things now.”

“Me too.” Mary presses a small kiss to the tip of his fingers, squeezing his hand before rolling over. “Good night, Bradley; sleep well.”

“Night, Mary.”

I think I’m falling in love with you.

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#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #elle writes #mar[r]y me fic

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