#blows on the eyelash and he's like 'there. now your wish has reached the universe' or sth sappy like that. and he's trying to be silly and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ackerfics · 3 years

Note

comparing hand sizes with eren or erwin 😩

i'm your satellite — eren jaeger, erwin smith (separate)

— eren jaeger x female reader, erwin smith x female reader (modern au)

— warnings: none, just fluff <3

— summary: they have a list of things that they love doing with you but when you suggested comparing hand sizes, they're blanketed with the feeling of pulling your heart closer than it already is.

— word count: 2.4k

— notes: i specifically didn't answer this yet because i wanted it to be an anthology of sorts --- it's just so cute aaaaaa both of these men make my heart stutter in the best way possible. i'm so sorry if i answered this late thooo :<<< i was sorting through my requests just now and found this. and i simply love it. maybe i'll start writing more these days because i'm starting to feel the side-effects of the vaccine hhhhhhh my body feels so tired all day, which means i'll be on my bed typing away on my computer. i based one of these scenarios on my own experience bc one of my guy friends just loves to compare hand sizes for bragging rights djnejdej also, i indulged myself in a little dad!erwin bc i'm a sucker for those. happy reading, love !! i hope you enjoy this owo

reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Class is becoming boring for Eren, the theories being discussed by the professor flying from his mind even after he writes them down on his iPad. He's an exceptional student, no doubt about that, but if there comes a day that he's feeling under the weather, Eren will just let the lecture pass by in front of him. He'd rather watch movies, cuddled into your warmth, than watch the short documentary on the discovery of quantum particles and their vitality in the great merry-go-round of life. He sighs before looking at his wristwatch --- there's still one more hour of staying physically present in this class and he will finally have dinner with you in one of the university restaurants. As if the thought of you sparked life into his body, he turns to you with a glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. Suddenly, every fiber of boredom became tendrils as he looks at your stunning side profile.

Like water, you flow through every stream of thought Eren has.

His admiration for you runs deeper than you let on. The love is visible as he trails his iridescent emerald irises over your visage. Rather than seeing the colors of the spectrum, his vision is dyed with all shades of anything pastels, the sparkles throwing you in a different spotlight than anyone else in the lecture room. Your eyelashes curve over your eyes as if they're butterfly wings every time you slowly blink while writing down the important details of the class. Eren is a sucker for the way you become so focused on every little thing. He loves seeing you lightly bite your lip as you draw diagrams or highlight with those pastel colors you adore you much. He enjoys the little nose scrunches when you don't like your handwriting, which was something he's thoroughly baffled about because it's so pretty as you. He even relishes how you blow on the stray lock of hair obscuring your vision. Everything about you is so perfect for Eren's eyes. It's not something he admits out loud but it's always conveyed through his actions.

It was a stroke of luck when you compared schedules with your boyfriend at the start of the academic year --- thinking that probably you wouldn't share classes with him aside from the general ones. You're both in the same major so most likely some of your classes align with each other just as it had been the previous year in university but it was never the vital course. He whooped in your shared apartment the moment he saw that you share all of your essential courses with him. It was something he was wishing for since you both started university.

The memory makes Eren smile, the giddiness he feels urges his hand to reach out to you. Finally, you look back at him in mild surprise when his hand covers yours. The small smile he had becomes a grin at your narrowed look. He shakes his head lightheartedly, "What?"

"What are you pulling right now?" You mumble slowly to not disrupt the class.

"Oh, nothing," he sings, running his fingers through every gap of your hand. The more time he observes every ridge and marks your hand has, he discerns that it looks so small compared to him. Eren always swoons whenever he feels how small you are against him. Something tugs on his heartstrings every time he hugs you from behind, only for you to be swallowed by how tall he is. Butterflies always cause tornadoes inside his rib cage when you walk around in your shared apartment wearing only his shirt. He can't resist his clothes reaching the middle of your thighs so he snatches you to throw you on the bed for another round of cuddles. Don't even start wearing his sweaters. The sweater paws are the death of him. "You are so tiny," he marvels in awe.

You scrunched your face in confusion. "Okay? I'm always tiny compared to you, 'Ren." You turn back to writing on your notebook, scribbling the diagram flashing on the projector screen. You feel every touch he pours onto your skin and it takes everything in you not to shudder at the heartwarming sensation of his fingers trailing over the back of your hand. You try to push down the warmth seeping into your cheeks and focus your attention on the lecture. The remaining minutes will fly by if you try to connect yourself with the theories your professor rambles on. But when Eren speaks again, your concentration breaks for the tenth time this day.

"No, no, you don't understand."

Your eyebrows furrow, stopping before you reach a period in your notes. "What am I not understanding?"

"Look."

Turning your head to see what caused Eren to say his sentences with breathy adoration, you see him placing your free hand on his, palm to palm. "Eren, what are you doing?"

Eren looks at you with the brightest emeralds before pointing his stare at your joined hands. Your palm is flushed on his --- your middle finger barely reaches half of his. It makes you blink at the sheer difference. You always knew that Eren is like a giant teddy bear behind that gruff appearance he always shows in public, with that man bun and blank face that often scares people, but you never really thought about how he practically engulfs you with just his build. His hand is so much larger than yours that you're starting to feel your heartbeat pound in the same melody as Eren's, the green-eyed man looking back at you with his universe reflected in his eyes. He's staring at you as if you complete him and it heals him to know that you complement him in any way he can think of. So, he folds his fingers over the gaps of your hand, covering you in a protective cocoon he created just for you. You're making him love you like a fool and he hopes you know how much he feels for you.

"You're so cute. It warms my heart seeing this." Eren never strays his gaze from your hands. "I think it's just me but I have butterflies when I realize that my heart is much bigger than yours," he glances at you with a small smile, "which means I can love you much greater than anyone else could. And every single inch of it is beating just for you." He leans his head back on his chair, a besotted look washing over his face as he gazes at your wide eyes, parted lips, and warm cheeks. "You are the reason why I enjoy living now. Feels great to let you know that I kind of love you more than you ever know."

You're speechless. Sometimes you have the tendency to blurt out any random thought when Eren makes your voice disappear like this. "All this because of a Physics lecture?"

Eren laughs before pulling up your joined hands to his lips. He presses the most gentle kiss on your skin, looking at you with half-lidded eyes over your combined hands. "Partially yeah because it's boring me but I know you know I'm telling the truth."

If you're perfect in Eren's eyes, he's shining in yours --- much more radiant than every satellite the universe has to offer.

Free time for Erwin is so rare and short that he cherishes every single one he has with you.

His work as the CEO of his rising business serves as the reason why he spends his nights inside glass walls instead of your home's comfort. With a junior like Levi who's always making sure that he stays in line without any distractions, Erwin is bound to be working more than enough hours to provide for your little family. Ever since you gave birth to his baby boy, he's working harder than he already is, saying along the lines that your little boy needs all the luxury a child should have in their life. Although, with that in mind, you prevented him from going back to work the first three months of your son's life on earth. As time passed, with your son now reaching one year old, all the little boy can pinpoint from his father is his eyebrows (something that he didn't inherit in all the features he has from his father) because that's the only thing he can remember from his workaholic dad.

So, once Erwin texted you that he will be having the week off because he felt like he was working too much, you are undeniably elated.

It's the first night of his vacation and Erwin spends it with you and your son, Atlas, doing a marathon of Disney animated films (well, up until your son falls asleep). You are snuggled against Erwin's chest, with your one-year-old son laying comfortably on both of your laps, fixated on the display of Simba being lifted in the air by Rafiki. The bowl of fruits near Erwin's side is slowly consumed by the blond baby sitting between the two of you while you and your husband are indulging in a bowl of popcorn. Atlas's exclamations of awe make you and Erwin laugh, endeared at the sight of him so immersed in the world of talking animals and magic. He occasionally looks up at you and imitates Simba's attempt at roaring before tugging on Erwin's shirt to randomly feed his dad a piece of strawberry (clumsily because he shoved the fruit on Erwin's nose). Everything is going well until Atlas sees the scene where Mufasa died.

"Daddy!" Atlas cries, eyes welling up in tears as he's clutching the fabric of his onesie in tiny fists. His sobs turn to wails as he turns to Erwin's chest, wrapping his small arms around the large expanse he's seeking comfort from. Erwin's chest rumbled with low laughter while you're brushing your fingers over Atlas's tuft of blonde hair, thumbs catching his falling tears. The baby boy continues nuzzling on Erwin that your husband looks at you for help. "Daddy don wan to die!"

"Sweetie?" You try calling out, cupping the side of your son's head in your palm. Those blue eyes he got from Erwin shine even more with that sheen of tears covering his irises. His little teeth are peeking through as he's gritting another sob, in which you have to take a deep breath just to contain your smile. "Daddy won't go anywhere." You lean your head on Erwin's shoulder, taking Atlas's curling fist and placing it on top of Erwin's heart. "Do you feel that?" A shy nod is your son's response. "That's Daddy's heartbeat. As long as that sound is around, he's always here."

"That's right, baby," Erwin tells Atlas, the toddler looking up at him with similar eyes. "I won't be Daddy lion any time soon."

Atlas tilts his head, speaking in a broken, "Really?"

Erwin nods. "Really."

The baby boy pouts and looks down on his father's free hand, the one that's not wrapped around him. With a set mission in his mind, Atlas took Erwin's hand with both of his. You share a glance with Erwin when your son lets his father's palm face his small face. The movie is now forgotten as Atlas expresses his small noises of awe at how Erwin's hand can cover his entire head. He huffs and makes himself comfortable, sitting on his calves, before smacking his palm on top of his dad's. He then laughs at something remotely funny to him, doing the thing all over again and muttering along the lines of, "Daddy big!" You and your husband watch as Atlas takes your hand and does the same thing. His giggles tug at your heartstrings, warmth spreading across the living room at the sight of Atlas enjoying the smallest act as if it's the most amazing thing on the planet. By now, the grins on your faces will never be erased at the energetic spark of light bouncing on both of your laps, eager to share what he discovered with you two.

"Mommy and Daddy do, too!"

"Oh, you want me and Mommy to do it, too?" Erwin translates.

A squeal rings through as the answer.

"Okay, then, as the little hero says so." Erwin turns to you with a smile, transferring his hold on Atlas on the other arm. "You heard our son, darling."

Erwin opens his palm, patiently waiting for you to complete the puzzle. Your loving stare trailing over his face turns him into a puddle of enraptured sighs and butterflies he's never shy to show you. The little sky-carrier giggling below anticipates the moment as much as Erwin.

Your pretty smile is the perfect accompaniment as you finally place your palm on top of Erwin's. When he sees how small your hand is compared to him, he's reminded of the times you randomly did this during college. Every single time he sees you marvel at the stark contrast between his calloused fingers to your dainty ones, Erwin is sent to the seventh heaven --- all because you look so beautiful staring at your joined hands with so much affection dripping from your eyes. He can't help but lean forward to gently press his forehead against yours, his hold on Atlas tightening because the baby is leaning back to capture the moment as one of his core memoirs. It must be because he feels so at ease in the comforts of his home or it could be because he touches you gently for a long while --- but regardless of what reason it is, Erwin feels so thankful that you came to his life like a shooting star impending for impact in his hollow heart, turning the chambers into a glowing artwork painted by you. Your hands are always laden with gold as you shower Erwin with the most unconditional love you ever gave a person, which is now extended to the bundle of starlight excitedly babbling.

"I love you so much, darling," Erwin murmurs, his breath too close as it hits your lips. He entwines his fingers through yours, slightly feeling Atlas standing up to join the little love-fest. "Thank you for everything you gave me. Thank you for bringing me to zenith every single day."

"Yeah!" Atlas cheers. "Mommy best!"

"You're right, baby," Erwin agrees, two blue eyes glancing at you with adoration. "Mommy is the best."

To them, they're mere planets revolving around you --- their luminary but for you, they carry the entire cosmos in their huge hearts --- pulsing with utter vibrancy for the little things in life at every beat.

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bitch-butter · 3 years

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hello! can i request "You didn't do anything wrong, there's nothing to apologize for" for any ship of your choosing? or any AU you want? i just really love how your writing flows, it's so cohesive-- don't take this the wrong way but like. i adore sitting down and actually analyzing your stuff structurally? seeing how it works and weaves together to make a whole just makes the shriveled up eng lit major inside me really happy.

w o o f this one ran away from me a little bit, it incorporates some Things I was thinking of re: forgiveness/webgott last month, and it's bit different than pure H/C but I hope you find something to like in it! Thank you for your lovely compliment~

Yes, it's webgott bc i am chained to The Rhythm

4. "You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to apologize for."

He cleared the drawer once more, eyes scanning into its dark corners for any sign of a missed sock, undershirt, some hidden treasure that he had many years ago deemed worthy of being put in the back of the underwear drawer. Raising his brows, Joe shook his head at himself as he closed it resolutely, tossing his bounty into his pack and stuffing the top with the sack that contained his bathroom shit.

Even remembering the days he used to be able to leave the house with just his keys made him want to sigh like a goddamn cow in the summertime. Now he needs the bag, the car, and Web just to go across the bay.

Speak of the devil, Web padded into the bedroom with his usual September expression: weary, exhilarated, slightly frustrated. Wordlessly, he crossed past Joe to the bed and slumped face-first onto it with a groan.

“Done?” Joe questioned, zipping up the bag.

Making a soft grunt of a sound, Web curled his arms around his head. “Done,” he said, face mashed against the bed.

“Well, get to it,” Joe said, stepping over to land a light smack against Web’s ass and grinning at the outraged whine he got in response. “Don’t want to be late,” he tossed over his shoulder as he stepped back out to the hall, making for the kitchen.

Even out here he can hear the sound Web makes, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “I’ve changed my mind!”

“No you didn’t!” Joe called back, grabbing the butter left on the counter and shoving it in the fridge, letting his eyes make one final sweep around the kitchen. “If you don’t show your reputation won’t ever recover.”

“Your mother loves me,” Web toned, and Joe couldn’t help a snicker as he moved through the hall back to the bedroom, where Web had at least moved to lay on his back, knees up. “She wouldn’t care, she’d probably let me move in with her if you ever kicked me out.”

Rolling his eyes, Joe stood at the food of the bed, arms folded. “Not with Yom Kippur, you’re not allowed to fuck around. She was happy you said you wanted to come, you don’t want to disappoint her.”

Heaving out a long breath, Web folded his hands behind his head, eyes lowered as he peered down at Joe. His knees tilted just so, his lips quirking, and Joe could see the fucking thought forming in his head before he had a chance to open his mouth.

“No.”

“We have time,” Web said, extending one leg to poke his toes into the left side of Joe’s stomach.

Clicking his tongue, he took hold of the other man’s ankle, giving it a soft pull and smiling in satisfaction as Web tried to pull it back to no avail. “If you think I’m going to miss my last fucking meal just to fuck you then you have another thing coming, alright?”

With a disgruntled twist of his lips Web pulled his leg in again, a little jerk that ushered Joe down onto the mattress as well. “You weren’t this dedicated last year,” he noted lightly, free of the reproach that might have accompanied the words if his family had said them.

Shaking his head, Joe decided to throw Web a bone and settled beside him, at least staying up on his elbows. “Different places,” he said simply.

Web looked up at him fondly, hand coming up to smooth over Joe’s hairline, sweeping it back and trailing behind his ear. “So, how will we spend tonight, then?” he asked quietly, eyes still following along where his hand moved. “If not in bed.”

Breath going slow with the contact, he tilted his head into the touch contentedly. “Well, tonight we’re going to eat like kings, Rach will probably be trying to get drunk in the pantry and hoping nobody notices, we’ll sleep in the attic, then tomorrow we spend a lot of fucking time at the synagogue.”

“And we don’t eat,” Web stated, assured.

“No eating, no drinking,” Joe nodded, brow furrowing at the sight of an eyelash on the other man’s cheek, reaching for it mindlessly.

Humming, Web closed his eyes to accommodate him. “Does this have a corresponding Catholic holiday I can retrofit in my mind?”

“I don’t know, you guys got a day where you feel really guilty about everything?” he asked, presenting the lash to Web balanced on the tip of his finger.

Blinking, Web frowned thoughtfully. “Birthdays.”

“Make your wish, you prick,” Joe grumbled, holding back his smile as Web grinned up at him, pausing momentarily before blowing the lash away into the room. Indulgently, he moved in closer, cupping the warmth of Web’s face in his palm and looking down on him with a feeling as close to serenity as he ever has here, in their bed, the sunlight coming in through their window.

Web returned his gaze, his own hand tracing along the back of Joe’s neck. “Do you confess?”

“Sure.”

“Alone?”

“All together,” he corrected, absently rubbing at the spot on Web’s cheek where he had plucked the lash. “You recite it, while you do this,” he said, shifting gently to bring his hand down to Web’s chest, knocking gently against him, just above his heart, with a loose fist.

Web watched his fist, a bemused smile growing over his lips. “Why?”

Settling his hand over the spot, Joe rubbed gently at him. “To punish your heart.”

Smile stilling over his face, Web absorbed his words with quiet interest, eyes floating down along Joe’s neck to the dark burrow of his chest where it pressed against the bed. “Isn’t the sinning hurt enough?”

Trust Web to try to loop him into a conversation about semantics of all fucking things. He must be more anxious to start his classes than Joe thought. “I don’t know,” he half-shrugged, eyes on his own hand over Web’s heart. “If you’re the sort who doesn’t like hurting people, maybe.”

Web nodded, accepting, smile turning more wistful, thoughtful “That’s nice, to be able to get it all out of the way at once.”

“What, you turned in a paper late?” Joe teased.

Flicking behind Joe's ear, Web looked up at him balefully, just a touch of that familiar humor at the edge of his mouth, like a dimple made of light. “I’d apologize to you, obviously.”

Huffing out a surprised laugh, Joe looked discerningly down at him. “You got something you want to tell me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Web shook his head softly, hand curling around his neck once more and seeming to anchor him down even further, their faces close enough to see the earnest upset around the angles of the other man’s eyes. “You know.”

Web does this. Likes to see monsters where there are none, invent storm clouds heading for them, and it makes him behave like a child sometimes and a man others. He’s a contrarian, down even past his bones and into the dust of the universe that lived in his being, it is an unchangeable fact. Telling him that there’s nothing to worry about accomplished nothing at the best of times.

Not that it’s ever stopped him trying.

“You don’t have to apologize to me for a fucking thing,” Joe rebuked solidly, hand moving from Web’s heart to his head, fingers resting just north of the delicate point of his hairline. “Sincerely.”

“I do, I…” Web parried, eyes unyielding where they looked up into Joe’s, somehow free of the sort of conflict he contained when he started thinking he and Joe had different opinions. “I know that this isn’t easy, dealing with me. And you do,” he continued, and this close he can see the way his eyes are stuck on his lips, the thought filling him with affection. “And you’re amazing.”

Giving in, chest bowing in like the hull of a sinking ship, he caught Web’s lips with his own, a hot smack of a thing that stole his breath, gave it to Web, who in turn gave it back to him better, better. “You don’t have to apologize for living, doll,” he shook his head, their nose practically knocking. “That’s not the point.”

Web didn’t seem soothed by the kiss, still appearing occupied with some train of thought that sought to carry him off and away from Joe’s eyes. “I still think of it sometimes, you know.”

Joe frowned. “What?”

“That day,” Web said, as though it should be evident.

He has to pause and think. They’ve lived a lot of days together, not just these ones that they’ve spent in this apartment, but the ones they spent as voices over the phone, words on a page, men in uniforms hiding from each other like chameleons. How is he meant to know which day Web means from the thousands they’ve had?

Looking down, the blue of Web’s eyes reminds him absently of Austrian skies. Mountains.

Yes. He knows.

“I think sometimes I should apologize to you and never stop,” Web said gently, managing to keep hold of Joe’s eyes as they blinked back and forth and back and forth into the memory.

He hadn’t thought about that day in a long time. Which isn’t to say he never does, but it’s been a time. If he concentrates he can still feel the sun on his neck, the unnatural sweatiness of his palms, how his face had somehow felt cold, waxy. Picturing the house, the dark guts of it with the man inside squirming like half-digested meat, still fills him with the primal sort of rage that only visits him in his dreams. All around the periphery of the memory is Web, that day he had decided that whoever David Webster was he wanted no part of it.

“It’s in the past,” he excused weakly.

Web pulled in a short breath, face carefully open. “I know it is.”

“So let it be.”

Frown deepening, Web’s brought his eyes back down, and even this small departure felt like shrapnel. Joe combed through his hair, rubbing at his scalp, jostling him enough to win his eyes back. Web opened his mouth, struggling, before settling into the intention. “Do you still think about it?”

“Of course,” he said dully, voice still caught somewhere in his memory.

“Do you ever think I owe you an apology?” Web asked, voice quiet and eyes steady.

The question drops through him like rain. He’s thought of that day hundreds of times, thousands. When he lets his mind walk back up that hill, shining in the sun like the cover of the storybooks his mother would read to him, it isn’t Web he’s thinking of. He thinks of a forest of trees, of the way that one can become millions, and those millions become legion. That day had been about a lot of things, he hadn’t ever intended for Web to be one of them.

Web has apologized to him in too many ways to count. But this memory is deeper than they are, the kind of wound that might close over but will still carry a piece of metal, even smaller than a sliver, nestled inside of them both.

Web gives him grief, for better and for worse. But he gives him peace, too. That’s all the apology he wants.

His silence has drifted over the room like fog, but Web looks at him with the sort of clarity that only a few years ago made him feel like a bug on a pin, but now simply makes him feel known.

“I’ll punish my heart for forgiveness tomorrow,” Web said softly, smile turning up his lips, hand against Joe’s neck.

Huffing, Joe shook his head, taking up Web’s mouth once more, briefly. “You have it,” he rasped, kissing just the corner of his lips, and then the soft heat of his cheek. “You’ve had it.”

Web smiled into the kiss, leaning up to press a matching one to Joe’s own cheek. “Good.”

Swallowing, he followed Web back down, their faces close. “Will you accept mine?”

A disbelieving laugh rumbled up Web’s throat, his head giving a dismissive shake as he gave Joe’s neck a hard rub. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he criticized, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

But they haven’t always been that lucky. This sort of luck isn’t a permanent state of being.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, before pausing momentarily. “Let’s say you forgive me for the first sin I haven’t committed yet.”

Laughing, Web took his hand from Joe’s skin, holding it up beside them in some offering. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Joe confirmed, taking his hand, giving it one firm shake, enough to gather up Web’s laugh, before bringing it to his lips and laying a kiss across its back. “Now come on, let’s go.”

#technically ~rivers~#prompt #ask #webgott

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halcyonstorm · 3 years

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Ahhh my final submission for LH drabble week: Angst Monday (yes i posted it on a tuesday)! Please enjoy and comment your thoughts and feedback. @levihan-drabbles

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë Characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 126: Pride Spoilers, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 126: Pride, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 132: Wings of Freedom Spoilers, Angst and Feels, right person wrong time, What-If Series: Part 8 of Short Fics Summary:

They just wanted an ending.

The sound of the shotgun rang in Hange’s ears as she shot two of her ex-soldiers dead, tears trickling down her face. She hated that it had to end up like this. She had known them personally, too. The whole world was against them. She took a deep sigh. After surveying the forest and deeming it safe, she returned back to Levi’s side. He was unconscious with Hange’s Survey Corps cloak wrapped around his face. Her heart ached when she started unraveling the cloak, exposing his injured, tainted face. The biggest scar ran from the top of his forehead, through his right eye, into his cheek. She felt herself get overwhelmed seeing him in this shape.

“The pursuers are all gone, Levi…” It’s safe, for now, she wanted to say. You’re safe with me. She knew this was temporary, though. They would never truly be safe again.

Hange had begun to set up camp. She pitched a tent, chopped at trees and gathered sticks to start a fire and was able to clean Levi’s wounds and body. He could develop an infection if she didn’t act fast. After all, she wasn’t sure how long he’d been face down in the mud unconscious. She started with his hand, using a wet cloth to clean the dirt as gently as she possibly could. Then, she wrapped his exposed wound, starting at his wrist and weaving the bandage around the empty space on his hand. She brought his hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on top. It broke her heart to see him in such critical condition.

After his hand, she tended to his face. She dampened her cloth in the basin of water, slowly and gently caressing his face to clean off the dirt and mud. She took this moment to indulge in admiring him. He looked peaceful, at least for that moment. She brushed his raven black hair out of his face, patting his gash with the cloth, blood crusted on the scar. His skin was smooth as she couldn’t resist the urge to touch his cheek with the back of her hand. His eyelashes were long and straight which she never noticed before. She had never been this close to him before. She made her way down his face to his lips. She dunked the cloth in the basin again, wringing it out, and then dabbed at his lips to cleanse them. As she cleaned him, she felt tears well up in her eyes.

“The fact that you're still alive with these wounds is because you’re an Ackerman,” she determined, starting to sterilize her needles in the fire. She grabbed the thread and started to stitch his face. She was careful, making sure to only go as deep as she needed to avoid causing more pain. Her heart throbbed in her chest when she imagined how much pain he was in. I wish it were me instead. She thought. After carefully poking and prodding at his face, stitching him up as well as she could, she dumped her tools into a pot of boiling water to be cleansed. She ran a hand through her hair, gripping a chunk of it and squeezing, tempted to pull it out. She felt like she was going to explode. After everything her and Eren had been through, he still turned his back on her and her soldiers. Rage boiled up inside her, poisoning every cell in her body.

Why couldn’t things be different? She’d ask herself.

“I’d rather the two of us just live here. Right, Levi?” She said softly aloud, turning to look at Levi’s unconscious face. Her selfish ideas spilled from her mouth and into the ears of her partner. She truly wanted to live with him. She wanted a life with him. She wanted to wake up with him every morning, make him tea, explore the forest, forget about the shitty world they were born into for even just a moment. She was grateful he was unconscious and couldn’t hear her. She allowed the tears to flow for just a brief period. No one was around, she was safe to let it go. Her exhale was shaky as her throat tightened. She blinked and hot tears came rushing down. She covered her face with her hands, allowing herself to cry. Not just cry… to sob. Her heart felt as if it was being torn apart strand by strand. Like someone physically shoved their hands inside her chest, pulling it apart. She felt a strong urge to scream, but she covered her mouth tightly with her hand, allowing a few moans to escape.

All she wanted was peace. She wanted all the suffering to end. She wanted Levi to be healthy and happy. She wanted to explore the world with him, try new things with him. There was so much she wanted to do couldn’t, and she knew that. When she joined the Survey Corps, she knew what she signed up for. She wasn’t afraid to die for the cause, but she just wanted Levi to be happy. She knew how deeply he had suffered. He lost his mother, Isabel, Farlan, Gunther, Eld, Petra, Oulo, Mike, Erwin, and countless more soldiers. She would do everything in her power to make him happy and not just survive but to truly live.

Later that evening, she began to work on building the cart to carry Levi. She contemplated carrying him on her back, but it was unrealistic. She was strong, but not strong enough to carry him for possibly days on end. She was working on hammering a nail into the wheel when there was a crash of lightning. Suddenly, she was knelt in soft, white sand. The sky shone turquoise behind her. She placed her makeshift hammer down, leaving an imprint on the sand. She put her hands on the ground to help her stand up. That is where she saw a familiar tall man with his dark brown hair tied in a knot. He was facing away from her, sitting in the sand with his knees to his chest. She slowly walked up to him, sand filling her shoes.

“Eren?” The man turned his head to face Hange. She is hesitant to sit down, but he waves her over to him.

“Hange-san,” he began. “I am sorry for everything.”

“Wh… What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to die soon,” he admitted, drawing circles in the sand. “Levi will try to stop you, but you can’t let him.”

“I don’t understand… how do you know all this?”

“This is all a part of my plan to eradicate the Titans…” he muttered. “But I am sorry it has to end this way. I know how much you and Levi care for each other. It will be painful, I will admit. But it is for a good cause.”

Hange shook her head in confusion. “What the hell? What will happen to Levi? Isn’t there another way?”

“No… There's no other way. Levi will be survive in the end. Don’t worry about that.” He had already made up his mind. “I am sorry. Go inside. Levi is waiting for you.” As Eren spoke, he pointed into the distance. Suddenly, they weren’t in the sand staring at the turquoise sky anymore. They were in a similar forest with tall pine trees. There was a small cabin with smoke exiting through the chimney. The cabin looked like it was something Hange and Levi could’ve made themselves. She opened the door hesitantly to find Levi sitting in the rocking chair, a cup of hot tea in his hand.

“Hange, you’re home,” Levi said, pleasantly surprised. She noticed his scar was present, clean and healed. He didn’t wear an eyepatch like she did. His right eye was white and cloudy. He stood up slowly, placed his tea cup in the tea dish, and walked towards her. She was able to admire his outfit. He wasn’t in his military gear, but in a beige sweater and grey trousers. He looked comfortable and at peace, which is what Hange always wanted for him. She was at a loss for words.

“What is this?”

“This is the most I can give you, Hange-san. A life with Levi.” She felt tears well up in her eyes. “I can let you stay here a little while longer.” Eren disappeared when she looked back to where she heard his voice. She looked at Levi, placing her hands on his cheeks. Levi’s lips curled into a small, sad smile.

“Look at our house, Hange,” he said, gesturing towards the center of the room. She looked away from him to admire the house. Their house. It was very cozy: it had two large burgundy sofas against the back and right wall, a fireplace in the center of the living room which had fierce flames. Levi led her to the kitchen and dining room. The kitchen had off-white square tiles as the floor and wooden cabinets, as well as a stove. There was a wooden table with two chairs. It made Hange’s heart swell, even bringing tears to her eyes. They did get to live together in another life.

“Levi…” she whimpered, looking at him again. He grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers.

“We’ll be here again, one day…” Levi said. Suddenly, she felt a breeze flow through her hair. Then, the house started to fade into nothingness and blow away. Levi was the last to disappear. Hange felt herself reaching out and grasping for him, begging him to come back.

Then, she was back to reality; hammer in hand, arm in the air, ready to swing.

What just happened? She asked herself. She felt as if she had taken a long nap, dreaming of a place so distant. She swore she had a dream, but it was long forgotten, deep in her unconscious mind. A tear was streaming down her face, her heart pounding in her chest, as if she just woke up from a nightmare.

“Don’t tell me… Eren… the world…” she muttered. The words came spewing out of her mouth for a reason unknown to her. “LEVI!” She turned to look at her partner only to find out he’d woken up. He was attempting to sit up.

“That damned beast titan…” he groaned, pain overwhelming him.

“You don’t need to get up,” Hange insisted, placing her hands gently on his chest. He eased back to his previous supine position. “What happened?” He briefly explained what happened, how Zeke was prepared to die for the cause. Hange sighed. She could barely handle the thought of what happened. She did hear the thunder spear go off, after all… She felt guilt tug at her damaged heart. Maybe she could’ve prevented it.

“I know you’re full of regret, but for now…” She was interrupted.

“What's left if we run and hide like this?” Levi asked, looking her in the eyes so fiercely she couldn’t look away. She felt her face turn red and hot.

“So, you heard my soliloquy, huh…” She mustered up the strength to look away. She was embarrassed, but then she realized he didn’t reject her. He said ‘what if we run away and hide like this?’ Him, her, together. He looked past her shoulder.

“What is that? Are you planning to pull me by horse? I know you, you aren’t able to stay out of the action…” She noticed his eyes were starting to appear wet… was he tearing up?

“That’s right. I can’t.” Hange sighed, looking into her lap.

The two knew what was to come; Hange and Levi knew what was coming from the moment they joined the Survey Corps. Duty first. Love second. They yearned to be together, but they knew that they had met each other at the worst time. Perhaps in another life, they would find peace. They would find freedom from this terrible world and find comfort in each other. They just wanted an ending. An ending to the war, an ending to the suppression of true emotions, an ending to the strain on their hearts since the first day of joining the military. They didn’t care where or how, as long as it was an ending together.

#levihan #levihan fic #levihan angst #chapter 126 #chapter 132 #aot #snk #aot fic #snk fic #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe

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katsuflossy · 4 years

Text

Soulful

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x black! reader

Warning: Swearing

Synopsis: Shoto comes back to a deserted Alliance. Ready to go to his room, he gets the most angelic soulful performance: (Y/n) singing RnB.

Song: At your best (You are Love) by Aaliyah

A/N: This was supposed for Juneteenth but this is the Juneteenth weekend so 🤷🏽‍♀️. I was just listening to the song and everything came to me lol. So please enjoy! Btw it may be rough, I haven’t edited it.

Taglist: @sunset-novice-writer, @goatsenpaiultimate (wanna be in my taglist? Just message me!💖)

Peace and quiet, this combo hardly appeared together in the Alliance building. Even in the dead of night, occasional snores, riff raffs sneaking around to get a midnight snack, and rush awakening from nightmares were the nightly language on the building. But when this opportunity arose, you couldn’t allow it to escape you like the rise of a super moon for witches to charge their crystals and water. Izuku was the last to greet you off, highly concerned about your health, and the idea of leaving alone in the big building by yourself. You fanned him further to the door, telling him not to worry about your health. Yes, you fell from 200m off of a building but you caught yourself...this time. Recovery girl only said to rest completely for three days and this was your final day before rushing back into the hero scene of UA. With a final push, you ushered him completely out of the building, reassuring him that there was no need to baby you. He finally smiled with reassurance, the soft sunset glare rested on his skin, making highlight every freckle on his glowing skin. Dark green tresses absorbed and reflected the light like a green forest. He finally turned around and ran off but not without a wave and a “Be safe!”, before joining with the rest on their trip to a minigolf center too far from the school. With a sigh, your shoulders dropped, listening into the vacuum-like dormitory, nothing but silence. At that moment you knew what you wanted to do.

It was a party, but only with one person. You ran to the kitchen, music blasting loud and proud of ravishing the cupboards of secret snacks you snuck in since your last trip to the city. It was a typical “white girl finally at home alone scenario” with the overtly loud music but in explicit rap version, breaking out in dance but instead, it’s full-on twerking and sharp bouncing. But finally, the high energy moving died down. From your room, the view of the sunset was ever magnificent once you finally let the sunlight radiate into your room. A sense of nostalgia recreated the room, transforming the scenery to an apartment’s step. The block was bumping with your older cousin’s car 90s rap and RnB while your ears pick up on the argument on if B.I.G or Tupac was better. The cool sensation of the cherry slushie in your hand felt almost too real and your heart turned from the scene. That same sensation brought you back to the present, the snowball turning into a regular bottle of cold water.

It’s okay to admit it, you are a little homesick. So what do you do? Put on some 90s music.

It’s been a while since you’ve listened to 90s RnB. The work never stops and hardly anyone here knew the songs, except for Denki of course but it was all the mainstream ones. So the solution? A 90s RnB marathon. There, the mood was set. Songs of Lauryn Hill, Jodeci, and even Sade broke you into a bunch of musical numbers as you clean your room. Just in time for Shoto to walk into the building

Everyone decided to go minigolf to celebrate the end of exams. Both Shoto and Kastuki, however, were called in by the number one hero for work-study then he left early due to Endeavor getting called in for a “top secret” meeting that would last all day. Not that Shoto wanted to be there in the first place but it was a waste of time to go into the cursed agency and not do anything productive. The Atomic Blonde fumed beside him.

“Why the fuck we arrived only to get shoved back out of the building. You knew he would’ve done this didn’t you?” Shoto could almost see him foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, ready to pounce on anyone in a 5ft range.

“If I knew wouldn’t you think I would be in that meeting currently? Or I wouldn’t have come in the first place? Your lack of common sense is showing.” Bakugo teeth bared harder and his hair comically shot up higher like an intimidated cat. “Fucking IcyHot! Shut your mouth before I blast you all the way to hell!” A few grumblings carried on until they reached the Height Alliance building. Shoto knew that this evening the dorms would be empty, he was invited to play minigolf after all however Endeavor called them in and wasted his time with his friends and (Y/n).

Yes, (Y/n). Shoto has been confused about his mind constantly separate you from the rest of his friend since you entered the school. He’d stared at you for eons until nudged by Izuku slightly teasing him or Iida reprimanding him about the importance of paying attention in class. But by Gods, you’re just a sight to look at and Shoto is a perceptive tourist. That skin has an ethereal glow to it when kissed by the sun. The way your eyelashes just flutter when you blink it seems like wispy threads of the flowiest dress blowing in the wind. All the images of your face and body slide through his mind like a gallery until Katsuki broke through his trance.

“Oi! Half and Half bastard! Stop dreaming about (Y/n) and come train with me! All the shitheads left so I can finally train without distraction.” The blonde stomped off towards the training area, not waiting on Shoto’s reply. The dual-colored hair boy just sighed and entered the building knowing that he too would like to train rather than wasting time.

Now if a building was empty, would there not be any music playing? That was the thought that had crossed Shoto’s mind as he entered the dorms to put down his suitcase. It was unusual, all of 1A left the building, therefore, no music should be playing. But the melody caught the dual-haired boy off guard, trying to figure out who would leave their music on. Kaminari or Mina could be one of the suspects, maybe they’ve left their Bluetooth on connected to their portable speakers and left them? Shouto hardly knew of that type of technology, regardless, he found himself walking towards the source. His auditory senses were pleasantly confused. The reason being the music was foreign, not similar to the regular beats and melodies of the songs he hears Mina and the girls play or the “Megan” that Kaminari would put on sporadically in the main room. But it was soothing as if touching his heart, addressing his whole being. Thankfully the grand English classes his home-school teachers and the school conducted allowed him to recognize the words of the song. It was addressing him, or maybe someone named “You”. Either way, he carried on to the second floor where a familiar hallway greeted him.

With his excellent detective skills (just simply walking), he found that neither of his suspects where correct; it was actually you. For his current present, he could’ve never been so grateful to be graced by the view in front of him now. Your door was almost completely open but not completely blocking the scene in front of him.

Your entire being encompassed by the fiery sunset, setting tones to your figure, and already radiant skin. It was like watching the clouds part and enters the first celestial spirit commanding herself from the rays of the sun. And he was a repentant worshipper. Your eyelashes batted at the stuffed bear on your made bed, singing to him in the what Shouto deems angelic whispers. Your voice was soft and melismatic as you sang the chorus again.

But at your best, you are love You're a positive motivating Force within my life Should you ever feel The need to wonder why Let me know, let me know Let me know

You carried on singing, swishing your hips as you carried on cleaning your room meanwhile Shout watched from the hallway, wishing he could switch places with the now taunting bear in your dorm room. Little his knowledge, you were dedicating the song to him, the bear a symbolism of him. Your thoughts actually manifesting your crush however not in the way you had hoped. The idea of Shoto smiling as you performed your admiration and love for him was actually occurring without your awareness.

Shoto could feel his heart pumping at a higher capacity and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering in swiveling motions as you stood in the middle of the room, the amber glow cast on every inch of your dorm and on your own figure, finishing the final note with a nostalgic look towards the skies. The sunset casting the lashes on your cheekbone. His eyes widening, making sure to take in all the details of this scene, the mental photograph forever etch into his mind for the upcoming and frequent daydreaming.

As soon he made an inch to escape without being caught, the universe made other plans. His suitcase clattered against the wall he was just leaning on to watch you. Your figure jumped and ran to peer through the door, meeting a heterochromatic gaze. You paled.

“Oh my God, Shoto! I-I didn’t know you were here!” Your face heated up, his own beet red from getting caught stalking you.

“N-no.” He cleared his throat from the shock, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help to watch and listen to you sing. You have a very beautiful voice.” A small smile cast on his lips as he stared straight into your eyes. His words traveled straight to your heart.

‘Lord, if I died right now, I would die mad happy.’ Your thoughts screamed as you replied.

“T-thank you, Todoroki. I didn’t know you could’ve heard me, I thought the song was loud enough.” You peered off to the bottom of your door frame, unable to take the staring any longer.

‘Be still, my beating heart.’ Todoroki carried on with his compliment.

“I’ve never heard of this artist but your voice really sounds angelic with the song.”Your thoughts stopped in shock.

“Shoto, you’re telling me that you don’t know Aaliyah! As in ‘Try Again’ Aaliyah.” He shook his head in confusion.

“What about TLC?” Head shake.

“Mariah Carey?” Head shake.

“Destiny’s Child?!” That was his last strike before you pulled him by the wrist, your intent being to drag in in your room.

“That’s it, we are going to get you musically educated right now.” You declared as his being passed through the door frame, grateful that he gets to spend time with you alone.

You were grateful that he didn’t stalk you a few minutes before “You are Loved” came on. It would’ve been more embarrassing seeing you perform “Anxious” by Ginuwine to the stuffed bear.

#bnha shoto x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #todoroki x y/n #black reader #todoroki shōto #shouto scenario #todoroki shouto headcanons #todoroki shouto x reader #poc reader #bnha scenarios #mha shoto todoroki #mha shoto x reader #mha shouto #bnha shoto #mha todoroki

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morgana-ren · 4 years

Note

Im. I love you? Your answer to that ask is beautiful, also I forgot about the other meaning for weed for a moment and got confused like, 'is morgana-ren a stoner? Beefy weed muscles???' and now i cant help but imagine stoned Shiggy. Specifically him forcefully shotgunning his captive because hes bored and if hes getting stoned she might as well too. Laughing at her when she gets spacey. This is a fun train of thought lol, thanks for inspiring it

I am a ridiculous and incoherent person. My first instinct is to literally reply with complete gibberish to most things. Shaming me has absolutely Z E R O effect because I have no shame. I’m a ridonkulous person. Last time I got high, I just laid in bed singing “Secret tunnel, secret tunnel” for like 3 hours.

To be fair, I would also do that completely buttfuck sober.

Gods I wish I had a gif of Shig smonkin some donk wods, but since I don’t, you’ll have to settle for me writing it.

PSA after the fact: I AM SO SORRY IT GOT A LIL CREEPY BUT TO BE FAIR, IT’S ME AND IF YOU SENDIN ME SHIT YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO BE REAL FECKIN’ SPECIFIC OR ELSE I’M GUNNA MAKE IT CREEPY also weed hits me way different than it does most folks so it’s really hard for me to be able to accurately describe how it might be to anyone else. SO imagine this is supervillain quirky weed he has special made to calm his...uh,.. never ending rage. also it’s ridiculously longer than I planned. cause I get carried away. anyway love you!

His room is dank and smells like mold and must.

Tight metal bindings cut into your wrists, leaving you raw with crusted blood despite the fact you stopped fighting days ago. Your tailbone feels bruised from constantly shifting on his worn down carpet, your legs prickling and aching from inactivity.

He’s kept you bound here for a while, handcuffs looped through the foot of his bed. You’re not entirely sure how long, since his ratty blackout curtains make it hard to see daylight. He’s got them taped down, blocking out all but the tiniest slivers of light. Like most of his life, his room exists in total darkness.

Time has little meaning here.

He doesn’t leave you alone often, only really exiting the room to bring you food which you refuse to eat. Most of it has been kicked into the corner, the soft buzz of fruit flies accumulating more and more by the day. It frustrates him, but he’s keen on reminding you that he’s patient. You’ll relent eventually.

Truth be told, your willpower is starting to give. Your body is stiff and sore, head perpetually aching from crying. His moods are like whiplash, one second crooning to you how special you are to him, the next backhanding you and calling you a stubborn bitch. You don’t know what he wants from you. If the fates were merciful, he’d get it over with and just kill you.

Ending your life doesn’t seem like it’s high on his list of priorities.

He’s facing away from you now, tinkering with something on his desk by the light of his various computer monitors. You can’t make out what it is, only that he’s been at it for the past ten minutes. Grateful as you are for his lack of attention, it always makes you nervous when he gets preoccupied. It usually means he’s working on some new and exciting way to break you.

You take comfort in the momentary peace, some temporary reprieve from the invasive leer of those horrid crimson eyes scanning over you in the darkness. Whatever he’s doing, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Only steel yourself against what he gives you when he’s finished.

He reaches into his desk, pulling out a plastic bag of something you can’t make out. All you know is when you hear the ziplock open, a strange scent floods the room. It smells vaguely familiar, but between your fucked up headspace and even worse situation, you can’t really bring yourself to care.

Leaning against the little metal bed leg you’re imprisoned against, you realize just how heavy your eyes are as you rest the back of your head on his threadbare mattress. Fighting off oncoming waves of pulsing anxiety takes most of your energy reserve, and bouts of sleep tend to come few and far between when you’re sleeping in the den of a predator.You’re so tired, so worn down, and you don’t know what else he could do to you that he hasn’t already done or planning to do. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t considered saying that to him, but you feel like tempting the universe or him isn’t a great idea right now. Either way, your eyelashes feel like weights dragging you under into the sea of sleep.

You’re almost there when his chair squeaks and you jolt awake, that overwhelming sense of dread coming over you. Your instincts blare and somehow you just know his eyes are on you again, waiting for you to acknowledge him. He wants your attention, and he expects you to give it.

Dragging your exhausted lids open when you know you’ll have to see that terrifying man is a burden you haven’t grown accustomed to having quite yet, but it’s one you bear anyway. Besides, you know that if he thinks you’re ignoring him, he has no problem forcing you to look at him. It’s easier to just give him what he wants. He hurts you less that way.

So you do, and just like you expected, he’s simpering down at you, holding something you can’t make out in his hands. Gulping comes on impulse; he looks far too pleased and that never bodes well for you.

“Do you know what this is?”

He holds it out and it takes you a second to make it out in the dark, but you know that basic shape.

“I-is that a pipe?”

“At least you know that much.” He gives you a cheeky lip quirk, making heat rise in your cheeks. Palming it in one hand, he uses the other to fish in his pocket, one finger carefully pulled outside the kangaroo pouch of his jacket. Following his movements, your brows furrow and curiosity almost wills you to speak. The words stall in your mouth, however, when you see him pull a cheap lighter out between two fingers.

He flicks it a few times with his thumb, sparking the light and sending small cinders dancing across the his lap. After a few tries, it finally holds. The light across his face only makes him seem all the more sinister, exacerbating the shadows that reside in the craggy, marred flesh of his cheeks. The flame dances in his pupils and the orange tinged shine glimmers off the edges of his weirdly perfect, jagged teeth. It’s extremely unsettling.

He lets the flame die, picking his pipe back up and tapping it on the desk once or twice.

“I don’t do this often. I usually prefer to keep a clear head.” He lazily arches back in his chair, inhaling the dank stench of the sticky green plant packed in his pipe before returning his gaze to you. “But in some cases, I find it can help you relax.”

Bringing the pipe to his face, he wraps his chapped lips around the bit and sparks the lighter again. You watch as the flame is sucked toward the bowl, igniting the contents and bringing them to a dull simmer.Thumb twitching on the carb and pinkie pulled away, he inhales, letting his head lull back on the seat of his chair. After a few seconds and a suppressed cough or two, he leans forward and exhales, sending a splay of thick, billowing smoke directly into your face.

You turn your head, watery eyes clinging shut, but it’s not enough to keep the acrid stench from clogging through your sinuses. It constricts your throat, compelling an instinctive cough from deep in your chest. Whatever it is he’s smoking, it’s strong.

His high pitched laugh echoes off the barren walls of his room as you scrunch your nose and try to disperse the smoke pooled in your face. When the air finally clears, he’s leaning toward you, arms resting on his knees with the pipe in one hand and his lighter in the other. The little embers still burn beneath the lip of the bowl, little grey spirals rising up from the still burning plant clusters.

He holds it out to you (as if you could take it with your hands restrained behind your back), hyena-grinning as you scowl up towards him.

“You should try a little. It might make you a little more-” Pausing, he pretends to be in thought. More mockery, you really wish you were desensitized to it by now. “-friendly.”

“I would have been friendly if you hadn’t kidnapped me like some sort of psychopath!”

He rolls his eyes at your outburst, languidly pushing himself off of his dilapidated computer chair and crouching down next to you instead. You know better than to kick at him, he won’t hesitate to break your legs to keep you in line. All you can do is stare at him nervously as he shakes his shaggy pale hair out over his forehead, still sporting that unnerving expression. His scarlet eyes burn arguably brighter than fire from the pipe, and exponentially more threatening.

He moves a little closer into your space, bringing the piece back up to his lips and lighting it up once again. He takes a deep inhale this time, even deeper than the first. Chest puffed and breath held, his lanky arm reaches out back behind him places the still-burning pipe back on the desk, gaze never leaving yours.You figure he’s going to blow it in your face again, either to be annoying or to try and give you some sort of shitty second rate high to make you more malleable.

It’s obnoxious, but not even close to the worst thing he’s done to you.

Yet, his cold, dry fingers grab at your jaw, forcing you to keep your attention on him. A chipped nail from his thumb prods at your lower lip and you realize he wants you to open your mouth. You could tell him to go fuck himself, but that only gives him what he wants, if only for a moment. Instead, you choose to glower at him.

If looks could kill, he would probably keel over, but unfortunately you live in a world where he has the upper hand. He squints at you, something you know would be equally as furious as your own grimace if his features had the freedom to express it. The fingers on your chin clamp down, digging into your soft skin in a bruising grip. The more you defy him, the more he punishes you, and his large hands have more than the power they need to cause you pain.

Eventually you feel your jaw start to crack. You try to hold out, try to stay your ground, but it becomes too much. Between his brutal strength and your already weakened condition, it’s no use fighting him on something he really wants.

You open your mouth, if only to cry in pain, and he immediately crashes his lips against yours.Teeth clack as you try to shake him off, but it’s too late. He’s breathing his air into your lungs, caustic mixture of the taste of the weed and the bitter scent of his breath swirling deep inside you. You try to heave it back at him, but the damage is done. Smoke barely seeps from the tiny cracks he allows between your faces, and your need to breathe is stronger than your ability to fight, so eventually, you relent.

You gulp the air he gives you down, just wanting him to get the fuck away from you. You can feel his lips quirk in a smile as you fight the urge to spit up from the foul scent of his exhale, ripped and bloodied lips scratching against yours. Eventually when he does pull away from you, you go into a hysterical coughing fit and between your bouts, you can hear him cackle.

You finally manage to calm yourself, but whatever it is he’s made you inhale, it’s strong. Stronger than anything you’re used to. Even second hand, your head is already humming, and you can feel your chest tighten against your will.

“You feel it, don’t you?” High pitched giggling and a weirdly gentle brush of a hand across your buzzing, swollen cheek. You go to swat him off, hissing in pain when the metal edge round holding you back cuts into an already existing cut. “Soon you won’t have any fight left in you at all.”

He leaves you alone for a minute, door clicking behind him. You catch your breath in his absence, eyes scanning your surroundings. You look for something, anything he has left within your reach that you can use to escape. It’s what you do during the exceedingly brief moments he’s not around, and so far, it hasn’t yielded any results, but you refuse to give up.

The curtains likely mean that there’s presumably a window behind there. If you can just get free, you might be able to jump out. Problem is you’re stuck with your hands restrained behind you on a metal bed post. It doesn’t matter how much you kick and scream, no one ever comes, so it’s probably safe to say whoever is below or above you doesn’t give a shit. You need to get out of these cuffs.

He smokes, at least occasionally. He’s probably got a bobby pin around here for scraping. If he’s anything like your mates, they probably litter the floor. To be fair, even if you get one, you don’t really know what to do with it. You could try your hand at lockpicking?

Heh. Hand. Get it? Cause all those hands?

Focus.

The biggest problem right now is the handcuffs. Technically, you could get out of them, but you’d have to disjoint your fingers to do it, which takes away from your already pathetic chances at escaping. It hurts to move your wrists, let alone yank on them. Why the fuck did this asshole have handcuffs anyway? Unless he’s doing some kinky shit in his down time. You wouldn’t put it past him, he’s obviously a weird guy. He seems like the type to be into some dirty stuff. You don’t know who with, but there’s probably villain fuckers out there he could find and take advantage of. Gross.

You audibly laugh.That’s funny.That’s really funny. You don’t know why, but the thought makes you giggle uncontrollably. Your mind refuses to stay on track.

Fucking focus!

Somewhere far away, you hear the door open and his heavy footsteps off to the side of you. Too late. You’re still laughing.

“Hey Shigaraki-”

He’s leaning down next to you, fucking with something behind you. Your hands. He’s messing around your hands. He’s cold. Why are his hands always so goddamn cold? Is that why he’s a villain? Cold hands? That would make you a villain too.

Your head feels several sizes too big, and you can’t help but think about how he smells like dust. Everything feels slow. You can feel your heart pumping. You can hear it too.

“-You should like, just let me go.That would be kinda cool. My hands hurt.”

You don’t notice they aren’t even cuffed anymore, or that he’s scooping you up in his arms and gently placing you on his bed.

“Don’t try to fight, now. You need a tolerance to before it’ll feel normal. You’ll only hurt yourself, and that would be such a shame.”

You can tell he’s mocking you again, but you just chortle because the words are processing like a slurry. The back of your head feels so soft. It’s definitely not the awful metal he’s made you crick your neck on the past little while. He’s touching your arms and it tickles. Flashes of his face play in your mind a little slower than they’re probably actually happening. It’s terrifying, but the fear doesn’t register. You wanna touch his face. You bet it feels funny.

You can hear the click of handcuffs again, and you know he’s cuffed you once again (so rude), just somewhere new now. Your fingers grip and you feel metal bars. A bed frame. Again. Uuugh. You kick your feet a little and they bounce off the mattress. Bouncy.

There’s a weight shift near your feet, and before you can really understand what’s happening, he’s on top of you, face hovering less than an inch above yours. Your cheeks are burning as his flaxen hair tickles and curtains you, and no matter how hard you want to, you can’t stop staring at his eyes. They’re so fucking intense you swear they scorch you. Like an abyss, you feel yourself being swallowed inside them as they stare long into you. Hate. Rage. So much embodied negativity you can practically feel it. Panic blooms in your chest but your body is reacting too slow. All you can do is squirm.

“Shh-” He’s caged your head in his arms, and his breath is glossing your cheek, just as sour as before but somehow you know what’s about to happen is much worse than forcefully smoking you out. “This’ll be much better for you if you relax and give in. Who knows? You could even enjoy it.”

He grinds his clothed pelvis into yours, and while somewhere inside your head, sirens are blaring, all your body can process is pressure against your most sensitive area. You whine, and he takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours again. Your mouth is slack and moist, so it’s nice and easy for him to slide his slimy, disgusting tongue down your throat. With your brain short circuiting from both shock and whatever he’s made you consume, your body doesn’t have enough control over its facilities to fight back.

He kisses you long and hard, if you can call whatever he’s doing to you kissing. It’s more like he’s trying to devour you. Sloppy, wet, and possessive, like he’s trying to choke you with his essence. It could have been a minute. It could have been hours. You don’t know.

When he does finally pull away, you can feel your stomach lurch as he laps at the string of spit that connects you to him, but you only blink your eyes wearily despite your extreme bodily reaction. You feel sleepy, or more accurately, your eyelids feel kinda heavy. Really heavy. Something visceral is telling you to stay awake, to keep fighting, but you just can’t. You can hear yourself speak but you don’t even know what you’re saying. You don’t remember.

“You’re cute like this, all spacey and stupid.” He flicks your forehead and your eyes flicker back open, but only briefly. “I guess it hit you kinda hard, huh? Sorry about that. I should have warned you. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

He presses his mouth to yours again, a little softer this time. You’re almost out at this point, everything feels so heavy. So sluggish. You barely feel his long, thin fingers glide slowly up your shirt.

“I think you could come to like it here with me if you stop being stubborn. But that’s okay. I forgive you. Like I told you before. I’m patient. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

#Shigaraki #Shigaraki x Reader #tw implied noncon #drugging???#slight somnophilia #kidnapping #sorry weed actually hits me different than it hits other people #and when I tried to do research on how to accurately portray it they basically said you cant lmao #HE GETS YOU HIGH AS FECK BOI #It's special villain quirk weed dont ask lmao #this ended up ridiculous #just like me #it's doing that thing again where it cuts off the read more JUST under the ask #will someone send me a picture for how it shows up on your dash? Am I the only one seeing this?

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quackeroos · 4 years

Text

ONE WEEK || Day Five

Pairing: tom holland x dying ex!reader

Summary: you were dying, and tom still loves you. now he plans on loving you ‘til your last breath, and maybe get you to say those three words back to him.

Warnings: swearing, angst

Words: 5.6k

*gif not mine!

General Masterlist | Series Masterlist

YESTERDAY'S EVENTS still hadn't left her mind. Remembering every bit of it only made Y/n's heart thump like crazy. She didn't notice that her heart monitor was beeping so loudly, Jamie had to come and snap her from her thoughts. "Oh god. Don't tell me your having dirty thoughts about Tom!" A pillow met Jamie's face and it made her nose sore.

"Oh, shove off! And keep your voice down, will you?"

Her sister gasps. "So, you were thinking of it!"

Y/n groans in annoyance. Jamie can sometimes be a pain in the arse. "It's not that you twat!"

"Then what was it that made your heart go coo coo?"

Y/n didn't answer. She laid back on her bed and continued switching the channels on the telly. A smirk grows on her sister's face. "Okay, I'm assuming it's about Tom, but it's not anything erotic." She only answered with a low grumble.

The door shifts open and closes with a thud. "I'm back!" the person bellowed. Speak of the devil. Jamie eyes her sister with a smirk, but all y/n could do was ignore her sand blush. She wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Tom settles down his backpack and takes his seat beside y/n's bed.

"Mornin' love," he greets. "How are you feeling?"

She shifted from her bed and sat upright. "I don't feel completely shitty, thanks for asking." Tom chuckles as he was fixing up his meal. "Thank you, by the way, for yesterday. I had a lot of fun." The brunette takes her hand and brings it up to his lips. A soft kiss planted on the top of her hand and he smiles, still not letting go of hers. All y/n could do was grin softly.

The morning went on peacefully. Jamie went to her university to pass her final papers for the semester, leaving the two alone in the room. Unlike before, tension filled the air. But compared to now, the two were at ease, comfortable in their space with each other.

Tom laid his head on Y/n's stomach, their hands still intertwined. His other hand poked at her stomach only for it to bounce right back up, he found it very entertaining. was a lazy Friday afternoon. They were already at their 6th movie of the day, and the time they would only move is when they had to go to the bathroom or change positions.

Tom stood up from his seat and stretched his back with a loud yawn escaping his mouth. "Alright, I'm bored. Maybe we should take a walk around the hospital."

Y/n groaned, "I kinda don't wanna leave my bed yet."

"Oh, come on, please?"

"Make me."

His thin lips pouted; eyes turned soft making it seem like he was a puppy. God, Y/n hated him for pulling that card. He knew she couldn't resist that face, his perfectly goddamn adorable face. "Wise move, Holland." her eyes rolled.

Tom winks at her. "Knew you wouldn't resist that."

"You're so full of yourself!" He was right though.

His strong arms slid under her and lifted her up with no effort. Once placed on her wheelchair Tom takes out his phone and sends a text, pocketing the device before pushing her out of the room.

As always, the nurses they pass by greet the two warmly, and some stopping Tom for a quick selfie, along with patients. From the side, Y/n teasingly scoffs, "Movie Star."

"Don't worry Moonshine," Tom leaned in towards her ear, "You're still my favourite girl." and he kissed the top of her hand before pushing her again. The trip around the buildings was slow, but it made y/n appreciate her surroundings more. (Only if there were windows to the outside world, of course.) They passed by the children's ward, silently watching them on little desks who were colouring and drawing on some sketchbooks and reading a storybook with their favourite toy. They've already explored every building, so Tom parked by the side and faced her.

"Well, we've walked around every building. Wanna head back to your room? I think Jamie's already back from uni." He looks at the time on his phone. When the elevator opened, he brings up his hand to press their floor.

"Wait, I wanna make one more stop."

"To the rooftop?"

She shook her head. "Let's go to the fourth floor." The doors opened with a ding and Tom pushed out. "Take a right and straight through those doors." The hall seemed to be isolated. There wasn’t a lot of people on the floor, just some nurses doing their rounds and the two of them.

"You're not leading me to a kill zone, right?" he joked.

"Believe me Movie Star, if I was gonna kill you it would be in an abandoned warehouse, not an empty hallway."

Tom pushed through the double doors. Their surroundings turned a but dark, and the bright lights that guided their ways was from the window to their left. "Is this the-"

Her hum echoes the hallway. Tom stood beside her and leaned towards the glass to take a closer look at the newly born infants. All of them were wrapped like little burritos, so small with their cheeks that look so soft. They slept peacefully while the nurses cared for them. Tom glanced at y/n, she was looking at one particular baby, the one inside an incubator with wires attached to its little body.

Tom could see y/n's emotional attachment to the baby, and it made him wonder, did she go here often? He had to ask.

"Sometimes, when I just feel like it. Every time I was confined here, I always used to go here to clear my head and give me some inner peace. This was the next best thing in the hospital; the rooftop garden being my number one, obviously." she chuckled.

Silence consumed the air once again. A nurse enters the nursery with an infant wrapped in a pink blanket. She was placed on the little crib and her name was on full display for the any passerby. The nurse notices their presence and sends y/n a wave and a look that only she could understand. Tom wondered what it meant but brushed it off, it didn't seem that important.

"I usually come here when I feel lost, most of the time when I was actually losing hope at living." His head snapped towards her.

"Turns out I found a little ray of hope in that little bundle of joy." She points at the incubated baby. "I thought to myself, this little one is probably fighting for himself to live, while I was here waiting for my life to end. I figured, if I tried living a little, maybe I'd get to see him out of the incubator one day. He was always a fighter, you know?"

"How long 'til he gets out?"

"Less than a month." Silence consumed the air again before she spoke. "You know, these past few days, you’ve been nothing but be a big help to me and Jamie. I just want to say Thank you, for being here right now and for-" She struggled to let it out. What did she wanted to say anyway? Y/n forgot as soon as Tom levelled with her line of sight.

His hand reached out towards her, and the tips of his finger landed on her right cheek. The sudden contact made her blush like a lovesick teenager—She sure felt like one too. His hand pulls back and his index and thumb seemed to hold something in between. "Make a wish." he said. Y/n wanted to question but he gave her a knowing look that said, "Just do it." Eyes closed, her mind formulated tons of it, but none of it were what her heart really desired. Maybe it was because her wish had already come true? Nevertheless, she wished for the other thing her heart desired most.

Her eyes open and she sees Tom still in front of her with his index and thumb still enclosed. "Up or down?"

She laughs, "What?"

"Just choose, up or down?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, not knowing where he was getting at, but she replies with, "Up".

Tom opens his fingers, and on top revealed a single eyelash. He blows it away with a childish smile. "I heard from someone that when there's a stray eyelash in your face you should make a wish."

"Oh really?" She smirked. "Then I guess you have to make one too." Her fingers lightly brushed his faced, picking up the single strand of eyelash and holding it up in a pinch. "Go on, make a wish." Eyes closed, Tom only thought of one thing.

"Down."

Her finger lifts. Blows it away as soon as it was in the open air. "So, what did you wish for?" she asked.

"To have a shit ton of candy."

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes at his childishness. She didn't press him any further, there was no point at beating Tom when it came to his immature personality. He has a mind of an eight-year-old, and sometimes, he would have his fair share of maturity Not always though.

It was nice though, that even though she was so mean and hard on him on the first day, Tom knew how to soften her up.

***

The rest of the afternoon, Y/n had spent the day at her bed, resting, preparing herself mentally and physically for the operation that will happen in less than eight hours. Tom was out to who knows where, no one dared tell her. The moment the two came back to the room, Tom laid beside her with the little space she gave to him. He put her to sleep by watching a bit of sit-coms and stroke her forehead with his finger, trailing off to the tip of her nose.

Getting out of bed was a tricky situation for him. His arm was under her body, and she was cuddled in next to him. He thought it was cute, didn't want to leave even. But Tom had to finish up things before she wakes up, and first order of business: getting out of the predicament. As quiet, gently and carefully as possible, he replaced his body with one of her pillows and leaves Y/n in the care of her sister.

And so, Y/n wakes up, with a pillow right beside her and a humming Jamie, typing away on her laptop. She catches her attention when she sat up. "Still haven't finished your book yet?" she asked. Her sister replies with a tight-lipped face and a shake of her head. "I'm kind of stuck actually. I don't know what to do after this one scene then transitioning it to the other."

"Well, you'll figure it out somehow. By the way, have you seen Tom?"

"Nope. Not a clue."

Y/n shot her a look, fully knowing that her sister was lying. She also had the same gut feeling she had yesterday - that or she's just assuming. Jamie kept silent and continued typing in her laptop. Y/n stopped questioning about Tom because she knew that her sister will eventually have to make a move to set her up or tell her about it directly. "Hey sis, how do you feel about wearing a dress, outside the hospital, at night?" bingo.

"I'll feel cold and say that you're a fucking lunatic." she laughed upon receiving a gentle smack on her head. Jamie rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed, "Tough luck sis, 'coz that's exactly what you'll be wearing tonight." The teen pulled out an ugly red Christmas sweater and a white skirt. Y/n's eyes shifted from the outfit to her sister giving her the "really?" look.

"Jamie it's autumn, and I'm already freezing myself enough inside this damn room."

"Which is why I brought your coat, scarf, beanie and boots." She drops an imaginary mic and mocked her sister continuously with her ridiculous face. Y/n coughs and laid back down. Jamie was a goofball, a complete goofball. But she knew her sister was very persistent on things, especially when it comes to her love life — hence all the set-ups with Tom all throughout their relationship, until now.

"You are enjoying this way too much." she made sure to be evident with sarcasm.

"Yup! Not gonna deny it. Now hurry up you old bean! We can't make them wait you know."

And so, just like yesterday, Y/n had let Jamie take the wheel. Fixing her up again, but leaving her face bare. Because according to Jamie: "A no-makeup-look is the trend nowadays. And besides, you despise wearing too much of it." She closes her kit and takes Y/n coat, wrapping it around her too keep her from the cold.

"Ready to go, Madam?"

***

The trip to the "surprise" was fairly short. It took Y/n and Jamie less than 10 minutes to arrive because it was at the hospital. Her sister pressed the top floor of the building; to the rooftop garden. She wondered, why there? People rarely visit it at night unlike during the day where the patients could sit under the sun and take a whiff of the smell of flowers. Before she could even pop the question, it seems that her sister had already read her mind. "You'll see why. Now hush."

Her well-known grin displayed on her face when the elevator tinged! The steel doors open to a dark open area. If Y/n didn't know any better, she would've thought that this was a plot to kill her or something. But since she wasn't in a serial killer movie, it totally couldn't be that. Although scared, Y/n was pushed to the middle of it all. The doors of the elevator closed and left along with the only source of light they had except for the moon, stars and a few buildings around the area.

She craned her neck towards Jamie, asking for an explanation. But she shakes her head, and nods off to the direction towards her, making Y/n face it. Little by little, lights lit up around the place, illuminating the once dark area. Strings of fairy lights hung above her, the fountain was alive, and lights outlined it and the water inside it. And at the end of the area, it's last light lit up, and the face that had given her hope in the last three years she had lived in solitude was there.

He was wearing his usual outfit; the iconic jacket over hoodie look. As comfortable as it looked, it also suited him and the cold British weather. In his hand were a bouquet of Baby's breath and Sunflowers. An adorable smile grew on his face as he slowly approached her, and on cue, Jamie took a step back and left her alone with him.

When he was already in front of her a crouched down, holding out flowers for her with a goofy grin. "Jamie said you were looking for me?"

"That's because you were sleeping next to me, then the moment I wake up you were gone. So yes, I was looking for you."

"I'd say you missed me too much. Am I really such a catch? Maybe you're obsessing over me, love." he said with a teasing grin. Y/n scoffed playfully, it was hard not to respond, she loved having playful banters with him. Half of it might be true, but of course Y/n doesn't need to tell him that.

"You are in over your head, Holland. Might wanna get off that cloud."

"Gladly milady. But only if you'll agree to join me for dinner." Behind him revealed a table set for two. The scenery behind it, was beautiful. The buildings with lights and Big Ben made the dark background alive. Tom pushed her wheelchair towards the table, and he sat perpendicular to her. Everything was put together perfectly It made Y/n wonder: How long did he prepare all of this?

"You never cease to amaze me, Tom." A look of admiration and love. Tom could see it fully, in her eyes and in her smile. She was glowing. It was the same look he saw yesterday and the past years he had been dating her. It lit a flame in his heart. And he only thought of one thing at that very moment.

He can't wait to wake up every morning with that look of love by his side.

***

This is so cliche, Y/n thought. Tom had asked Sam to cook a bowl of spaghetti and his other friends to play "Bella Notte" in the background. At the corner of her eye, she could see Harry, documenting everything like a supportive mother. No doubt, Tom asked him to do it. It was a "Lady and the Tramp spaghetti scene" come to life. The idea of replicating it was just so romantic and at the same time ridiculous. "What made you think of doing this Tom?" she laughed.

"I don't know. Maybe the thought of accidentally kissing you while eating spaghetti? You gotta admit it though, the Lady and the Tramp; best romantic movie ever."

"Yeah sure, romantic. But I prefer the iconic Heath Ledger scene."

"I'll make a note of that." He joked. Tom ate a mouthful of spaghetti and began slurping. A goofy grin plastered on his face, he managed to get his desired reaction from Y/n.

"Ugh gross! Have some table manners you pig!" Tom only laughed at her, not caring that she was absolutely annoyed at him. He loved seeing her pissed off face, it was entertaining. "Look at your face, you look like a child! Wipe your face with a napkin, you dingus."

An idea popped in his head, and a smirk grew on his face. Y/n did not like the mischievous look. "Why wipe it with a napkin when I have you to wipe it for me."

"I'm not your mother, Tom." She deadpanned. "Just pick up the napkin and wipe the goddamn sauce off of your face, simple as that."

Like a child, he shook his head. "Uh-uh!"

"The napkin is right there, Tom." With no second thoughts, he threw the napkin away and smiled innocently. Y/n muttered curses in her head. She hated his stubborn ass, mostly for the times when he would use it to start a banter and piss her to no end. She took her own napkin and handed it across the table. But instead of taking it, Tom had leaned forward and put his hands behind his back. "Take the napkin, Holland. I'm not a damn babysitter." But he didn't budge. Tom sat there, batting his puppy eyes innocently at her. She groaned in annoyance, hating his stupid smile. She knew that he was enjoying it, how could he not? The stupid grin was plastered on the dumbass's face. Dreading to just get the job done, she leaned forward and dab the cloth on the side of his lip.

"Thank you~" he sang. But a pissed off Y/n wasn't at all amused at him. She crumpled the napkin into a ball and threw it in his face. Tom thought it to be hostile, but unbeknownst to him, Y/n was actually playing along.

She threatened him, "Do that again, I'm throwing off of this building."

But both of them knew it was an empty threat. Y/n could do it, no doubt, but she liked to follow her personal ethics. Tom only laughed at her, "Sure you will, love."

***

As soon as dinner was finished, the two sat at one of the benches and looked at the sky. Y/n loved looking at the night sky, almost as much as how she loved looking at the blue and cloudy one during day. She was fond of looking for constellations, but she never really knew the names, so she would just make one up whenever she would find a pattern in a sky. Tom discovered this at a time when they were sitting on the roof of her house. "I see.... a chicken."

She paused for a moment to scan for a pattern, humming as she does. "I see... a log."

"I see a dog with airplane wings."

"I see pyramid."

"I see.... a duck with a jaguar head, singing karaoke with a dolphin wearing a top hat and a monocle."

Y/n tries to hide back her laugh and turns to face him. It was by far the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "What? There's no way you could've spotted that. You're just making things up!"

"And what if I am? I do have a wild imagination, you know.

She scoffed in defeat. "Whatever dude. You've always been such a big baby." The air was quiet once again, and they sat comfortably. Y/n was at ease, after three long years of keeping Tom out of her life, she was glad to finally have him by side. Without even thinking, she laid her head on his shoulder, and in return, Tom wrapped his arm around her. His warmth was so comfortable, like a weighted blanket that covered her body. He sighed in the air, also comfortable with the intimacy and her company. It had already been years, and yet, his heart beats so fast at the action she had initiated.

"Do you think the hospital will let us sleep here for the night?" She wondered.

"Why? you getting tired already?"

"Nah. I just wanna sleep under the stars. Who knows, maybe I might spot a shooting star?" Y/n yawned quietly.

"Wait wait wait, I still have something prepared. Keep those eyes open, darling!"

Y/n groaned. "Don't tell me you're doing another serenade!"

"Oh hush! You love my serenades!" She rolled her eyes, not even fighting back because it was true. Tom took his guitar from behind the bench and secured its strap around him. Tom started strumming the tune. Y/n had recognized the song when he sang its first line.

"I wanna make you smile whenever you're sad Carry you around when your arthritis is bad All I wanna do is grow old with you"

"I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches Build you a fire if the furnace breaks Oh, it could be so nice, growing old with you"

Just like before, Tom spared no second from looking away at her. And of course, the intense gaze that he held maid her melt. She couldn't help but not look away too. How could she tear her eyes away from him?

"I'll miss you Kiss you Give you my coat when you are cold Need you Feed you Even let you hold the remote control"

Tom could only hope that Y/n was getting the message he wanted to convey through the song. He had been waiting to do it for so long. The ring had been kept in one of his drawers, left inside to be built up by dust. He never thought it would ever seen the light of day. Yet here he was, singing to her, with the velvet box in his pocket, hoping that she would understand. Saying it in person was nerve-racking. The first time he did it made him anxious, even now. Although the singing did help him ease up a bit.

"So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink Oh, I could be the man who grows old with you I wanna grow old with you"

The song ended with a strum and Y/n clapped for him with a proud smile. She joked, "Always had been an entertainer. Thank you for the song, kind sir." Tom tucked away his guitar and faced her with his hands in his lap. "So.... did you-uhm... get the message of the song?" Y/n only sat there, oblivious. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She knew the song meant growing old with your other half, but that's just about it. There were a number of possibilities Tom had wanted to convey through the song, and one stood out. She didn't want to believe it though; it might just be her.

"Uhm... No. I'm not sure really." she winced. God, she hated the feeling. It was like the time she rejected his proposal. Tom sat there with his thoughts. She might have gotten a piece of it, maybe she just wouldn't admit it? It didn't bother him at all, really. The song was just phase one of his plan, the real show was just about to start. He lifts his hand and waved over to Sam, who was at the other side of the garden, now sitting by his keyboard piano. Y/n, curious at the sudden call for his brother, she asked, "Why what happened? Is there something wrong?"

"No. Just told Sam to play something for me."

"What?" And as if on cue, Sam played a beautiful melody that danced in the cold air. And Zendaya had stepped out from the shadows with a mic in hand, she waved at the two with a smile.

Tom stood up from his seat and held out his hand. Y/n only looked at it, not getting what he wanted her to do. Her mind had only understood when Tom uttered the words, "Dance with me."

She laughed, but soon died down when Tom wasn't laughing with her. "Oh. You're serious?"

"Does it look like I'm joking Y/n? Yes, I am serious."

"Um yeah, I don't think that's a possibility. As you can see, I literally can't move my legs anymore. Jamie mentioned it you before, right?

"Well I for one, believe in miracles. And that everything is possible, even the impossible." She giggled, he was quoting Mary Poppins and although it was ridiculous, it was appropriate enough to be used at the time.

"You trust me, right?" he asked.

She didn't need to decide. She knew in her heart the answer. "Yes. I do." because she always had.

"Then take my hand."

Sighing, Y/n reaches out and take his hand. Tom leaned towards her and scoops is her light body. She circled her arms around his neck as he walked to the center of the garden.

"My mind runs away to you With the thought I hope you'll see Can't see where it's wandered to But I know where it wants to be"

Tom slowly settles down her legs, but Y/n held tighter, not wanting to feel the ground. "Tom, I can't. I'll fall."

"Just trust me, Y/n."

"But-" She was silenced by a knowing look. Y/n nodded, although unsure of what he was planning to do. Tom proceeded to let her legs down for a moment, only to carry the other again. Her arms were wrapped around him the whole time, afraid that she might fall. He settled his arms under her and secured it to carry her weight. It was a bit hard to carry her, now that she wasn't able to lock her legs, but he didn't mind. Tom leaned in towards her and rested his forehead on hers. Soon, he swayed to the song.

"I'm waiting patiently though time is moving slow I have one vacancy and I wanted you to know that"

"I haven't had the guts to do this again, you know?" he started.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"This. Coming back to take care of you, winning you back, Preparing this, the songs. I was scared. Not gonna lie, I am until now." he nervously chuckled.

"So sick of this lonely air It seems such a waste of breath So much that I need to say So much to get off my chest"

"Tom, I don't know where you're getting at." she admitted in defeat.

He struggled a moment to formulate the words, but nevertheless, he spoke, "I love you, okay? So damn much. God, Y/n, I never stopped, even after all these years. But, before you leave, for the next couple of hours you're in that operation room, I just really need to know, if you love me back?"

She was silent, it made Tom anxious as the time passed by. He couldn't read her eyes, what she was thinking. But a wide smile grew on her face and nodded. Tears welled in her eyes and she spoke almost like a whisper, "I've always had."

Tom lets go of the breath he didn't knew he was holding. Relief washed over him. And with no second thoughts he pressed his lips against hers, and he had never been more happy. His heart was racing and mind a bit cloudy.

"You're the one designed for me A distant stranger that I will complete I know you're out there we're meant to be So keep your head up and make it to me Make it to me"

Although taken by surprise, she returned the kiss and allowed him to enter. Y/n melted in his arms, relived to have finally felt his lips against hers again. She had never felt more love in her heart, and she was glad to have finally voice out her feelings. Her heart was beating rapidly, and it felt like it was about to explode. It was running on love, and she wasn't sure when it would stop.

She tore away from him and gasped for air but connected her forehead on his. Nose touching and her eyes trained on him. She uttered the three words he had been longing to hear for three long years.

"I love you."

She kissed him again with more passion, held him closer, and placed her hands on his cheeks. Y/n could feel her heart pump out of her ribcage and wasn't sure if it was something she should worried of or not. Moments ago, her heart felt alive, but now it felt like being crushed and pierced through by knives. It ached in pain, until it had become unbearable.

Tom noticed her becoming intense when she stopped. She gripped tightly on his jacket and started gasping, laying a palm on her chest, and breathing heavily. "I.... c-can't breathe.... Tom, can't b-breathe!!!"

Panic flashed in Tom's eyes and he could feel his heart stop. She felt weak, shaking and gasping for air. Her heart literally felt like it was going to explode! Tom sat her on the fountain and held her hand, shaking violently, hoping she would calm down. "Someone call for help!" he yelled out. Sam and Harry were quick on their feet and used the fire exit to get down as quick as possible. Zendaya took out her cellphone and quickly called Jamie to inform her of the emergency.

"Y/n, love, you're gonna be fine, okay? The twins are gonna come any moment with a nurse and a doctor." Her hand gripped his tightly and it pained Tom to see her like this. It was worse than time she pushed him away. Tears were falling on her cheeks as she kept her eyes on him to try and calm the ache in her heart. He pressed kisses on the roof of her hand and Y/n could feel hot drops of tears falling on her. "Ssshhh You'll be alright, Y/n. It's gonna be alright. I'm here, for you love."

Out from the corner, Harrison arrived with Y/n's wheelchair. "Harry and Sam are here with the nurses, along with Jamie." Tom nodded in thanks and scooped up her body, laying her on the chair and held her hand again. The elevators opened and the people in it filed out and rushed towards Y/n and Tom. Jamie was the last to come out and her eyes were read fear and worry. She gasped at the sight of her sister.

The nurse takes Y/n's wheelchair and pushed her towards the elevator. Tom followed and they rushed towards the emergency room. Although he wanted to follow her inside and make sure she was safe, the nurse stopped him at the door and told him to wait. "I have to be there, please. She might be scared."

"I'm sorry sir, but no one is allowed inside."

"Yes, I know. But I have to be there. S-she's having a panic attack or something! I have to make sure she's alright."

"Sir, we'll be doing our best to take care of your girlfriend. But you need to calm down and stay here for a while."

"No. No! You don't understand! I need to know what's happening to her! That's my girl! You have to let me in!"

"And I promise you sir, you will. But right now, we need to run some tests on her." The nurse politely excuses herself and goes back inside the emergency room. Doctors came in soon and the hallway was quiet again. The windows on the door were small, and it wasn't helping Tom's case at all. He couldn't relax without seeing her. Heavy footsteps and panting echoed in the hallway, Tom assumed it must be the others and Y/n's parents.

Tom sat himself on one of the hospital's steel chairs, hoping that it might help him calm his nerves. His hands were balled up, head hanging low, and eyes stinging with tears. He could hear Jamie crying at the other side of the hallway, worried for her sister. Meanwhile a hand patted his back, and he could see the familiar pair of sneakers that belonged to Harrison. "She'll be fine, Tom." he said in a hushed voice.

Tom only nods, although it didn't actually help that much. He knew she was strong, but he couldn't help but be worried. He sniffled and wiped his nose. He whispered words into the air hoping that someone could hear his prayers and help him and her girl.

"Please be alright. Please be alright, love."

day six of One Week

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sentfromwolves · 4 years

Photo

oc prompt game . ( queen of the meadows. uselessness / mars & laurel )

< hoes b4 bros >

hwa: mom

starmom: son wuat the fuck its 4am

hwa: o fuck i forgot timezones again

hwa: wait

hwa: why r u up ! !!

hwa: MOM

hwa: go 2 SLEEP

starmom: no now im here and awake and alive enough whats up son

hwa: mom we need an intervention (go 2 sleep)

starmom: jesus christ

starmom: for who

hwa: mars said he wants 2 marry the dude from his plant class (seriously!! GO. TO. BED)

starmom: that class started literally 2 days ago

hwa: I KNO!!!!! (pls, mom, for the love of everyone around u and also me, get some sleep)

aspen groans and rolls over in his bed, peeling himself away from his sheets and staring groggily at his phone. it’s not unlike mars to get fleeting, would-be crushes on other green witches in his classes. usually he’ll ogle them for a day or two, wax poetic about their ass, and then move on. he’s a tall kid with a heart of goddamn gold, and wears every single emotion he ever owns on his sleeve. it’s caused trouble more than once, but generally he’s pretty good about loving, and realistic expectations, and knowing that you can’t marry a guy you met two days ago. frozen proved that much, if nothing else.

still, he cracks open the door to his room and sidles down the hall and peeks up the stairs. there’s no movement, but something clinks in the kitchen that connects to the living room, and he ambles in that direction, wondering what he’ll find. maybe yonghwa had also been texting cobalt, who is a habitual night owl. maybe cobalt is also in on this intervention thing too. after all, their witch bonds are stronger than most. when one of them feels something too strongly and doesn’t clamp down on it, often times the others will feel it too. and aspen knows that most of them have been feeling pretty ecstatic over the last few days, the stress mitigated by the unbridled adrenaline and raw energy of diving back into classes, into a sea of new faces and old as the new semester cracks open like an eggshell suspended above all of their heads.

what he finds isn’t cobalt hunched over the fridge with three popsicles sticking out of his mouth (a regular occurrence during summer). what he finds is mars draped over the living room couch holding his hand over his forehead dramatically, a spoon hanging from his fingers and a half-empty jar of gelato (his gelato, aspen realizes with a little bit of exasperation), looking like he’s ready to be painted by a young leonardo dicaprio.

“um,” aspen says, “you okay in there, buddy?”

“aspen,” mars says. “can you marry a guy you just met?”

goddamn it. they really do need an intervention.

“no, mars,” aspen says with all the patience of a man who just woke up at 4am because his witch family are being dumbasses. “you can’t marry someone you just met.”

“fuck,” mars says, and sits up. “okay, plan b.”

“plan b?”

“i’m gonna ask him on a date.” mars looks fiercely determined. so determined, in fact, that aspen breaks out into a laugh that threatens to wake cobalt up from his dead slumber upstairs.

“what?!” mars demands, his voice pitching high. “what’s so funny?”

“it’s just,” aspen says. “no, you know what? i’m not even going to say it. okay, so you’re gonna ask - “

“hot greenhouse man,” mars says dreamily.

“you’re gonna ask hot greenhouse man on a date,” aspen says. “cool. and how are you gonna do that?”

mars face drains of all color. because for all of his open-hearted adoration for people, his poetic compliments, his easily obtained sincerity, mars has never asked a person out before in his life. in the realm of dating, he’s as good as useless, and aspen’s gonna let him flounder a bit in the blind, desperate hope that he learns how to swim.

“i’m,” mars says, sputters, and says again, “i’m gonna figure that out. right. now.”

“cool,” aspen says, planning for the inevitability of mars chickening out by the time the sun has risen in the sky. “i’m going back to bed while you do that. wake me up when there’s breakfast being made.”

mars, in fact, wakes him up later on when breakfast is (rather poorly) made.

he also tells him that he knows hot greenhouse mans name courtesy of one of his rather nosy, gossipy friends.

his name is laurel. and aspen is worried he’s going to break mars heart.

***

aspen doesn’t have to worry for long.

the moment he meets laurel, he knows that this is as good as fate crashing into his living room floor and starting a forest fire. laurel has the fucking heart eyes of the century every time mars back is turned, and for all of their early floundering, he’s a good soul with a cute smile and (currently) light blue hair that fluffs up to minty green whenever he gets excited or happy.

however, there is one big problem. the biggest fucking problem in aspens world. something that keeps him up late at night, staring at his ceiling, asking the universe how two people can be so stupid that it’s almost funny for everyone involved except it really isn’t because how is he, the good samaritan stuck between a rock and two love-struck people so dumb about the feelings of the other that they don’t even know how to act, supposed to sleep soundly when he can’t knock the minute amount of sense into his best friends head to do the right thing?

the right thing, of course, being to ask one another on a date.

“three months,” yonghwa says on the phone with him one night. “aspie, it’s been three months and neither of them have asked each other out?”

“i know,” aspen moans, hitting his head against his desk, hands in the air. “i know! they’re both like, oh wow, look at this beautiful friend i made. and then mars waves him out of the house, turns around, and starts screaming because he’s so fucking in love! how can he not just - just ask him out? how is this hard?”

“listen,” yonghwa says, “i’ve seen one whole picture of them together and i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone look at mars the way laurel looks at mars. that guys whipped. and he’s not even gonna ask him out?”

“they’re dense, hwa,” aspen bemoans, lifting his head. “dense as bricks. denser than bricks. it’s like the cauldron gave them all the good looks in the world and then was like, hey you know what? good looks? well then i guess you can’t have any braincells around each other!”

“could you,” yonghwa asks, “could you like, give them a nudge? a push? a kick in the ass? throw them off a cliff.”

“i’ve tried everything,” aspen says, and looks up at his computer screen. yonghwa is bent over, painting his toenails as he speaks, the glittery polish he’s using apparently magically scented with blackberries and vanilla. “i straight up said, now is your chance mars, go ask him out! and he just looked at me like this deer in headlights. what if he says no, he said. what kind of bullshit!”

“useless,” yonghwa says, blowing on his big toe. the enchanted blow dryer aspen had sent him for christmas dances around his head, drying out his recently dyed silver-purple hair. “i wish i was there. i would just do it for them.”

“i wish you were here too,” aspen says, breaking from his complaints to let his words flow with genuine fondness. “i’m excited for when i can finally have you back here for real. i miss you.”

“i miss you too, aspie,” yonghwa says, and smiles up at him through the camera. “it’s only a while longer. and then the whole family will be together.”

“not quite,” aspen grumbles. “laurel should be part of this family. hell, he spends enough time over here that he should be on my chore wheel.”

“ah yes, the chore wheel,” yonghwa says sagely. “you should just add him. maybe they’ll finally get the hint.”

“no,” aspen says. “they’re both fools in love. i really don’t know what to do.”

yonghwa tilts his head thoughtfully.

“maybe,” he says, “they just need to suffer a bit more, and then they’ll figure it all out.”

“maybe,” aspen replies, but he really doesn’t think so, but he pulls all of his blind hope and shoves it into that one, tiny word.

***

one month later, aspen snaps.

it starts on a friday afternoon, when he hears the door bang open and closed, and a wail reaches his room where he’s trying desperately to finish a lit essay while talking with emerson about latin translations and books that he wants to set on fire.

“i gotta go,” aspen says, glancing behind him at his door.

“gotcha,” emerson, “wanna come over and dramatically recite shakespeare with me while i pretend to care about grading these papers?”

“please,” aspen says, “i think i’ll need it.”

“cocoa or tequila?” emerson asks knowingly. “or do you want some sort of bliss tonic? I think we have some leftover from the party.”

“cocoa,” aspen says, “i love you. talk to you later.”

“doors unlocked!” emerson calls after him before he ends the call.

in another life, aspen thinks, he’d ask emerson out on a date. but harper is madly in love with him, and aspen is madly in love with harper, and so he stays out of both of their paths, knowing better than to get in the way of something that could be wonderful for the two of them.

sighing, aspen closes his laptop, stands up, and prepares for the worst.

mars is on the kitchen floor.

aspen fights two spontaneously grown thorn bushes, a snapper plant that descended from the ceiling to eat his hair, and three rows of angry, bushy cactuses that have since surrounded the open dishwasher and its surroundings with all the grace he can muster.

mars doesn’t so much as move or bat an eyelash at him when he comes to stand at his head. he’s face down on the granite, arms splayed out in front of him, and he looks, quite frankly, like he’s just keeled over and died in the middle of the day.

aspen does the nice thing.

he kicks him (gently) in the head.

mars lets out a pathetic cry.

“what happened,” aspen says, and it’s not a question.

the only other time mars poisoned the whole kitchen with toxic plants, it had been because someone had called him a giraffe and he’d cried all the way home. he’d been seventeen at the time.

mars rolls over onto his back and stars up at aspen. he’s on the verge of tears.

“oh my god,” aspen says, crouching down. “baby.”

“aspen,” mars croaks. “i’m a dumb person.”

“oh my god,” aspen says. “no you’re not, mars. tell me what’s wrong.”

he sits down gingerly, ignoring the cactuses around them, and mars scoots up a little so he’s laying with his head in aspens lap as aspen brushes his fingers through the boys hair.

“i really like laurel,” mars says, like it hasn’t been painfully obvious for four months now. “like, really, really like him.”

“yes,” aspen says. “i know.”

“cool,” mars replies, staring glassy eyed at the ceiling. “so today, i go into the greenhouse early because like, i’m planning to give him this cactus i found down at the gardens to laurel, because the needles don’t hurt at all and make little bubbles when you tickle the head.”

“okay,” aspen says.

“and there he is,” mars says, lifting his hands to the ceiling like he’s looking at heaven and laurel is up there somewhere too. “beautiful. haloed in light. perfect. the most amazing guy i’ve ever been blessed with. and he’s getting kissed by some other dude.”

okay, that’s a hold up. laurel? kissing another man?

“are you sure?” aspen asks.

laurel has been madly in love with mars for months. this story doesn’t make any sense.

“yes!” mars exclaims. “like, the cutest fucking gesture and he’s just sitting there, laughing as it happens! and i’m sitting there with this stupid cactus like, oh! that’s why he never asked me out. he must’ve been like, dating this hot dude this entire time and was just taking - what, i don’t know - pity on me or something! i look stupid.”

mars actually wails at this.

“i’m a dumbass!”

aspen frowns.

“no,” he says, leaning down to kiss mars forward. “you’re absolutely not a stupid person, mars. you’re the best, sweetest, greatest person i know. and if that’s really true - which i’m not saying it is - then laurel is missing out on something incredible.”

“but i don’t want him to miss out,” mars says, and sobs.

“i know,” aspen says, immediately planning either murder or the biggest fucking Mom Talk he’s ever going to have in his life. “i know, baby. you’re the best thing i’ve ever had in my life. and you deserve the stars.”

***

the stars hiss at aspen the moment laurel makes it into their front garden, telling him hurriedly that the boy he’s been waiting on to arrive is finally here.

aspen checks his watch.

cool, three hours since mars breakdown.

enough time for aspen to school all of his emotions into neat little lines and prepare for whatever the fuck is about to happen downstairs. as requested, cobalt is diligently distracting mars upstairs with video games and an ongoing call with yonghwa, who’s hollering memes at them while dancing to the ponytail song aggressively.

aspen goes downstairs and opens the door.

laurel is standing on his porch looking wildly out of breath.

“is mars here?” he asks, all of his words blending together into one massive slur.

“amazing,” aspen replies. “you’re both useless.”

laurel freezes.

“um,” he says, very eloquently. which is great, because aspen doesn’t have time for him to go on any sort of ramble that dodges the point. aspen’s nonexistent love life might be a hot garbage fire that he’s given up controlling, but he’s not about to let mars go down in flames over what he hopes and prays is a misunderstanding of cosmic proportions.

“no,” aspen says, shutting laurel’s mouth with an audible click. “nope. don’t talk, laurel. it’s my turn. i get to talk now. mars is upstairs, by the way. my kitchen is a nightmare. and if this conversation doesn’t go right, i’m going to make you clean every single cactus out of my dishwasher before you leave.”

“what?” laurel asks, dumbly.

“listen to me very carefully,” aspen says. “mars likes you a lot. he might even love you, and for mars, that’s a monumental thing. he’s wanted to ask you out since he met you. he’s so far down the rabbit hole of affection for you that i don’t think his heart has room for literally anything else.”

laurel sits there gaping like a fish out of water. jesus christ - had he really been so dumb?

aspen tries to boil down every strand of exasperation in him.

“today,” he says, “even after months of friendship, you kissed someone else in front of him.”

“i - what?”

“don’t ‘i - what’ me, mars was crying on my kitchen floor for two hours because of this,” aspen says. “if you really didn’t notice that he was madly interested in you and you were just wanting to be friends, then i might be able to forgive that when mars recovers. and that’s a big if. but if you were leading him on, thinking it was cute to have him fawn over you while stringing him along, i will personally - “

“waitwaitwait,” laurel says, loudly, holding out his hands. “wait, aspen! please!”

aspen frowns at him, in what he hopes is his best scolding mom stare.

“you have five seconds,” he says, “go.”

“this is a whole, big, wild misunderstanding!” laurel says, so loudly his voice has to carry out through the whole house. “the guy that kissed me was one of my old frat brothers! he was just coming by to say hi! he’s got a girlfriend and a boyfriend for godsake! it was just - just platonic. i don’t feel that way about anyone but mars! i’ve wanted to marry that guy for months now. literally marry him! i’ll even get down on one knee - “

laurel is jumping down onto the ground before aspen can stop him, even as he rushes forward, trying to stop this mess of a man from also destroying his house with blooms of crazy fucking plants. he can already see the dirt around his front yard sifting, little tendrils of greenery poking on through.

“laurel!” aspen says, loudly. “laurel, please - “

“i love him!” laurel shouts. “please, aspen. i really love him! can i see him? i can explain it all, really, i just want to see - “

“laurel?”

aspen turns around.

mars is standing in the hallway, illuminated in the soft gold of the fairy lights floating around the ceiling, swimming like snakes above their heads.

he looks stunned and a little bit awkward, his massive cardigan slouching off of his shoulders, hair a mess, eyes tear-streaked and nose rudolf-red.

“mars,” laurel says, from his kneeling position in front of aspen. “mars.”

he stands up and aspen moves out of the way. laurel crosses the hall to mars and without hesitation, takes mars face in his hands and kisses him hard on the mouth.

aspen feels like he’s part of a korean drama. he thinks he must be at the season finale, because how could anything in his life get more dramatic than this?

“oh my god,” cobalt says from the stairway, holding his phone up and videotaping the entire thing. “they really are useless in love.”

aspen knows he should say something, because the whole hallway is filling with cherry blossoms and red roses, massive lilies and blooming sunflowers. but for a moment, he just sits down hard, and agrees with cobalt’s assessment. mars and laurel are useless in love.

but their love is more gorgeous and brilliant than anything aspen has ever seen before.

and how could something so beautiful be useless at all?

come ask my flower prompt questions here!

#long post #my writing #writeblr #wip: saturday sang your name #oc: mars #oc: laurel #oc prompt game #please validate me i loved writing this #i love my boys #come ask me things!

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peterjonesparker · 5 years

Text

I offer this knowing full well the trash fire that I am. sorry I made y’all wait over a year. hope this isn’t too bad and not worth the wait :( lots of shit going on in my life and has been going on haha. been a big year! I graduated! I'm working! trying to find a full time job! wow! but yeah...hope you all enjoy. anyhow.

tags: @spideychelle-romanogers, @redpanthers, @suplosers, @bellamywarriorblake, @spideychelleforever, @ritebeforeyoureyes, and @johnmulaneyslut. I forgot a lot of ppl I'm sure! if you want to be tagged for any future updates (maybe they won't take a year rip my life) just message me and I'll add you! and if you don’t wanna be tagged going forth, just lmk! okay, story!

chapter seven: “I thought you might want to join me?” (ao3 link)

Michelle doesn’t realize how well and truly fucked she is until her birthday comes around. She’s been doing her very best to pretend everything has been fairly normal, just add in some making out and oral sex to the equation. (Since she went down on him, he’s gone down on her another five times and each one has been absolutely breathtaking. He’s just…so…observant.) In any case, Michelle has been trying to pretend they’re just good friends who blow off some steam together sexually.

She tries to rationalize the way he’ll sometimes grab her hand when they’re walking to class. Or how he’ll wrap his arm around her when they watch Pride and Prejudice and she tries to hide her tears at Darcy’s confession to Elizabeth. Or sometimes the way he stares at her like she’s the greatest thing in the universe and she wonders if she’s even known what it’s felt like to be adored like this.

They’re just friends, though. This is just Peter being the gentlest soul she’s ever known. He wants her to feel loved because he wants her to be happy. As her friend.

Her birthday is always dangerous territory. Because take how much care and love Peter usually gives her and multiply it by one trillion. She wakes up to a light knock on her door and Peter’s made stacks of chocolate chip pancakes, complete with bananas and Nutella that’s been warmed slightly so it spreads more easily. He’s also made her a chai latte. Or…well…he’s attempted to make her a chai latte. And he drew a heart with chocolate drizzle over the foam. He brings all this in on a tray he claims he had May send over and he’s brought the New York Times Sunday crossword.

They spend the morning cuddling together, eating and trying their best to fill out the whole crossword without any clues. (They only need to go to Rex Parker’s solution for three!) He spends the time occasionally pecking her shoulder or check or neck or simply deciding to drag his lips over the skin there. No matter what it is, she gets goosebumps wherever he touches her.

They make out for a bit and it’s soft and gentle and warm. But then he’s pulling off of her and smiling down, telling her to get dressed because he has a whole big day planned. She groans. Because, like, they were making out and she’s tired and doesn’t want to get out of bed. She also quite likes Peter being in her bed. But those puppy dog eyes of his can get her to say yes to just about anything so she gets dressed and lets him drag her around town.

They go to the coffee shop that serves coffee at the perfect temperature. The one right by the coffee shop where she and Peter first freaked out about starting college and making new friends and taking the right classes. The one where she and Peter decided to live together. The barista recognizes them and gives her their order for free.

Birthday: 1. Sadness about Peter: 0.

Afterward they stop by a bookstore that’s stocked up with the new release of an author Michelle really likes. Then, the authorshows up and signs her book and wishes her a happy birthday and says that she owed Tony a favor. And this is just such a cute idea. Your boyfriend really cares about you!

Birthday: 1. Sadness about Peter: 1.

They go to the park and he buys them a blanket and he watches people while she reads her new book. She also manages to drift off to sleep. Peter’s just rubbing her back so nicely and the sun was so warm and her eyes just felt so heavy. But it’s her birthday so she can do whatever she wants.

He wakes her when the sun is starting to set and takes her back home, arm wrapped around her shoulder as they walk to the train. He lets her sleep on his shoulder on the ride back and she does not dream about him because he’s right next to her and that would be dumb…right?

When they get back to their apartment, Michelle’s feeling more sad than anything else. Because she’s so happy. Being with Peter is everything she ever hoped it would be. In fact, it’s better. Because she only ever had vague ideas about holding hands and spending time together and doing sappy shit. Which they do. But they also give each other orgasms and that’s an aspect she never let herself think about before. She has all of it in her grasp, but they’re not quite there. She doesn’t know what to do about it other than feel sad.

Maybe Peter senses that, and that’s the reason he timidly says that he has one more gift for her but only if she feels up to it and it’s totally fine if she’s not. She smiles, tired but fond. “Show me.” That’s when he pulls a small slip of paper from his pocket and extends it toward her with a goofy grin.

This coupon is good for one bubble bath

She looks down to hide the radiant smile that overtakes her face. She angles her head back up to look at him through her eyelashes, and he looks simultaneously terrified and ecstatic. “Well,” she pushes her shoulders back and gestures forward. “Lead the way.”

His eyes shoot wide and he sputters out a few breaths before “give me one second!” He sprints to the bathroom and only comes out a few minutes later, sufficiently less panicked. “Sorry for the delay, let’s go.” He grabs her hand gingerly and guides her toward their joint bathroom.

It’s set up with candles and he’s playing a playlist she’d created a while ago on his Bluetooth speakers. He’s laid out her favorite book alongside a glass of wine. When she turns her head, he’s smiling, small and shy. “I thought you should have a relaxing birthday evening.”

But then he starts to walk away and she panics, grabbing his wrist to hold him back. He turns with a raised eyebrow. “Did you change your mind?” He turns to face her fully now. “That’s really okay. I can try to plan something else if you want?

She laughs, head tilted back and smile wide on her face. He’s such a nerd. “No, Peter.” But then she’s nervous because he was going to walk away and should she really bother asking? It’s her birthday, though. “I thought you might want to join me?”

He blushes furiously, turning his head to avoid eye contact. “If you’d like.” He glances back at her quickly, a slow growing and hopeful smile on his face.

She answers by pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it carelessly across the room, whipping her head to accentuate the movement. She smiles when she hears Peter chuckle. They strip awkwardly and wordlessly, which still astounds her because they’ve seen each other naked several times by now and still aren’t used to it. But they work through the discomfort and get into the bath, her back to his as they just lie there.

It's incredibly relaxing. But Michelle still feels very unsettled. Especially because she’ll adjust a bit and Peter will gasp and she’ll feel his dick twitch. But this is a bit of uncharted territory. Because they haven’t had penetrative sex yet. Just oral sex. Handjobs and fingering, too. But penetrative sex? Nope. And of course it’s also the type of sex that Michelle finds most intimidating because it’s never as comfortable or easy as someone touching her clit. But she feels Peter’s dick twitching against her back, slowly getting hard. And she can hear Peter’s breath hitch with the effort of trying not to get hard. And it’s a futile effort in any case because she loves him and if he wanted to have penetrative sex, she would love to have it with him. She’s honestly kind of curious and is getting a bit turned on at the thought. It’s her fucking birthday, too. Which is maybe how she can justify the words that come out of her mouth next.

“Peter, are you ever going to fuck me with your dick?”

Peter stills. He’s incredibly tense. She can feel it. So she cranes her neck so she can watch him take a deep swallow, lip trembling a bit. “Is that something you want?”

“Is it something you want?”

Peter answers by wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeply. The angle is a bit uncomfortable, but Peter starts dragging his hands down her body. She gasps when his fingers drift over her clit, and that’s what breaks their kiss. Her head turns back to face forward as she pants, head falling back against Peter’s chest. He leans down to kiss her neck, smiling into it. It takes her an embarrassing amount of time to realize he’s actually whispering things into her ear.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” A bite to her ear lobe. “You’d like that, huh? Want to feel yourself falling apart around my dick, huh? Want to know how up the wall I’d be feeling you all around me, huh?”

Michelle gasps, nodding her head and keening. Her hands have a vice grip on his thighs as his fingers circle her clit. She’s biting her lip, trying to maintain some sense of composure. But the thought of him getting hard and entering her slowly is starting to drive her a bit crazy. Her friends all talk about proper lubrication and being relaxed and she figures an orgasm is the best way to do it, so she reaches her hand back and runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of Peter’s neck. She pushes his head down into her neck. “Give me a hickey for my birthday. I want you to make me come as you mark my skin.”

And so Peter does just that. And it’s as he’s sucking on the skin connecting her shoulder to her collarbone and his fingers are rubbing her clit in the circles she’s shown Peter how to perfect that her mouth parts on a deep moan. Then the pants begin and her chest starts to heave as the pressure builds and it starts to feel like too much in the best way possible. It’s these seconds right before orgasming that are Michelle’s favorite and she should really explore edge play with Peter or something and just thinking about exploring all these different ways to have sex with Peter who is probably the love of her life feels one hundred percent too overwhelming and she orgasms, moaning obnoxiously loudly in a way she hasn’t done before.

She feels like she maybe blacks out for a second, but when her eyes open, it’s to the sight of Peter smiling down at her, a look akin to awe on his face. And she chooses to lean into the moment and not think too strongly about it. She just lets him help her to stand up and lead her to the bed. She’s nervous but she also hasn’t been this excited about anything in a long while.

#spideychelle #Peter parker #Michelle jones #Michelle x peter #Peter x michelle #Spiderman: homecoming #Spiderman: far from home #sh #sffh #otp: I'm just kidding I don't care #I write things #eeeeep

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jaeminlore · 6 years

Text

Little Surfer Girl | Mark

summary: do you love me? do you, surfer girl? words: 4.4k category: surfer!reader x skater!mark, dumb x dumber actually, fluff a/n: after proofreading i realize all but the last scene suck so,,, here you go! part one of "sounds of the summer" au <3

The first week of summer is always the warmest. For Salos, anyways. The small island — just miles from the coast of New Zealand — seems to always carry a bit of warmth with it, no matter the season.

But summer in particular is the warmest. It's when the sun comes out to play, pinching and poking at your bare skin until it turns red. It's when the locals walk around in minimal clothing, and the tourists feel freedom to do the same.

It's when a university student like yourself grabs their surfboard and attempts to catch the first waves of the season. It's when the biker kids who have spent all winter fixing their used motorcycles finally get to take their first ride. It's when the skater boys fly down the boardwalk in such a blur that it looks as if they're flying.

One of them has caught your eye.

It's really not your fault for liking a boy like Huang Renjun. He is, quite possibly, the nicest boy on the entire island. He credits himself as an artist, and when the sand is just right, it shows in his elaborate sculptures. Where his passion is admirable, his face is adorable, and you have spent more time than you'd care to admit simply staring at him.

You'd like to think that he'll notice you this summer as something more than the person who lets him borrow their surfboard every once and awhile so that he can surf with his friends. You wish he'd make the commitment and buy his own surfboard. Most of that wish is just you wanting to be able to surf alongside him, if you were honest.

Jeno thinks you're impulsive. At least, that's what he repeats as you purchase your very own skateboard. Sure, that money could've gone to a wetsuit, but wasn't pursuing true love enough of a reason to blow your savings?

Your next feat is finding someone who will teach you how to skateboard. Jeno sucks, so he's out. Renjun's the one you're trying to impress, so it'd be futile to ask him.

You choose Mark Lee.

He's easily the best skater on the island, and to top it all off, he's easygoing. At least, that's what you've heard. You've never talked to Mark personally, despite him being close friends with Jeno.

You've hung out around him, but the most you've ever gotten out of him was a quiet greeting. The rest of the time, Mark prefers to stare at you. You assume it's a nervous tick of his, or something he doesn't realize as doing. Still, it makes you feel vulnerable.

His eyes are brown. After all of your silent staring contests, you've concluded that they're a ruddy brown — dark and muddled — shades of brown and orange pooling into each other to look like the red clay of Utah, or some other western place.

His eyelashes are short and blunt; dark enough to make you question whether or not he uses mascara. And he blinks a lot. That's what unnerves you, you think. It seems like he has something to hide.

Maybe he does. He's a weird guy, you assume. In your mind, you've already pictured how Mark is. In your mind, he vapes in his mother's basement. You also think he's the type to call hanging out "vibing", whatever that means.

You chuckle to yourself and pull your new skateboard closer to your chest. You've already grown an attachment to the board. So attached that you spent fifty cents on an alien sticker from one of those corner machines. It is now stuck to the bottom of your board.

There used to be an abandoned waterpark just a walk away from the boardwalk. Instead of tearing it all down, it was renovated into a skate park. Now it's home to not only skaters, but street artists, buskers, and magicians. You normally don't visit. While the boardwalk is more of a shared turf for everyone, the skate park isn't a place surfers go to often. Just as skaters prefer the dry land to the ocean, you prefer to stay as close to the sea as possible.

Since you're one of the well known surfers on Salos Island, it comes as a surprise to the residents of the skate park when you walk in with a skateboard under your arm.

You're good at ignoring them.

The sound of wheels rolling and people shouting, paint spraying and guitar playing creates a background track for your walk to Mark's usual hangout place. In some ways, you think this place is comforting. It reminds you of simpler times, when you used to listen to Avril Lavigne on the bus ride home from school.

Mark is at the top of the drained pool, laughing at something his friend is saying. You're a bit startled to see his bare back facing you. It shouldn't surprise you; you've seen him shirtless before. Still, something about his broad, slightly-burnt shoulders and the feminine dip of his spine makes you look twice.

You wonder briefly what Renjun's back looks like. He tends to keep at least a t-shirt on, so whatever's under it is up for anyone's imagination. For a moment, your heart beats quicker at the thought of him. The pure adrenaline of it spurs you towards Mark.

"Mark Lee," you say. You falter to follow up with anything, because Mark is turning around before you can catch up to your thoughts.

Now he's facing you in his ripped black skinny jeans (whatever shirt he had been sporting was shoved into his back pocket.) The two horizontal lines prominent in his lean stomach are only noticed for a moment before your eyes snap up to meet his.

Maybe he notices your obvious nervousness. Maybe he takes note in the way your eyes scan his freshly-dyed, wine-colored hair. Maybe he witnesses your small action of gripping your skateboard closer to yourself than before. Whatever urges him to do it, he quirks the side of his mouth up and crosses his tanned arms over his chest. "If it isn't the little surfer girl."

"I'm not little," you grumble. Maybe he doesn't see how nice your arm muscles have grown from your surfing. "Anyways, I need a favor."

Mark blinks. Your stare catches on the way his eyebrows furrow and straighten out repeatedly, as if he's mulling over your words. He must be switching conclusions. He looks confused, if anything.

He shifts back to a smirk, "Does this have anything to do with you eyeballing my friend constantly?"

You shrink back. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to me."

"You're the most oblivious person the this earth," you bemoan, "so with that logic, everyone knows."

Mark shrugs. "So they know. Big deal. What's the favor?"

"Oh." You hold out your brand new skateboard — alien sticker side up — in front of him. "I want you to teach me how to skate so that I can impress Renjun."

Surprisingly, Mark agrees on the grounds that he's bored. After that you make a joke trading "bored" for "board", but he doesn't appreciate it quite as much as you do.

You wonder if Renjun would appreciate it.

☼

Mark's shoulders are pink because he only wears SPF 20, and sometimes forgets to reapply. After he casually mentions it at the skate park, you remember to bring your handy SPF 80 spray for him to use. You even set a reminder on his watch for him so he won't forget to reapply.

Mark laughs at your efforts, but you know he appreciates it because every time his watch beeps, he's off of the ramp and reapplying in record speed.

He's on this third coat when you decide to give up and sit on your skateboard. With one leg on each side, you scoot back and forth at the base of the pool, waiting for Mark to return (you've already applied your own coat of sunscreen.) "I'll never impress him."

Mark rides down the ramp. He slows to a stop and sits on his board, mimicking you. "Are you kidding? Your balance is incredible. Besides, it's just your second day. Don't expect to be doing flips and tricks already."

"I know," you sigh. "I'm just worried that he'll come here and I'll embarrass myself in front of him."

"You probably will," Mark says. He giggles at your pout and reaches out to push your lower lip back into it's place. "But no worries. Renjun's participating in the sand festival so he'll be busy. Well, at least for the week."

Mark's nice. He's simple-minded, but it's in the best way where he seems fascinated by even the littlest things. You think it's funny — the way he gets distracted by a dandelion poking out of cracked pavement. "What's your plan, anyway?"

Your shoulders slump. "I don't know," you answer dumbly, "I was hoping he'd see me skate by and immediately fall for me and my skills."

Mark snorts. "Okay, well he already knows you, so love-at-first-sight is out of the question. Maybe we could go visit him at the festival? He usually needs a few assistants when he's sculpting."

"Didn't he enter the contest? He can't have any outside help."

Mark curses and rolls himself back and forth as he thinks of other options.

He suddenly gasps, "Let's keep practicing, and inbetween lessons we'll head to the beach and talk to him. Then, we can invite him to come watch you skate. He'll fall for your charm first, and then your skill."

As if it isn't the dumbest and most simple plan anyone could come up with, you're smiling at Mark and praising him for his idea. "This could work. I could have a boyfriend by the end of the month."

Mark picks the dandelion out of the crack and tucks it behind his own ear, grinning crookedly at the new accessory. "You can take him to the bonfire. That's where all the couples go to, like, show that they're taken."

You stare at the yellow weed at it rests over the shell of Mark's ear and grin. "We're so going to make this happen."

☼

Mark's niceness drifts into dumb territory more often than not. The amount of times the boy has been taken advantage of, simply because of his inability to say "no" were far more than you could count.

Like now, when you and Mark decide to take a brake from skateboarding to catch some waves, and Mark is stopped prematurely at the snow cone cart. Students from the high school and university mill around it, and you watch as many of the younger girls touch Mark's arm and ask him to buy them a cone. He obliges more than once; enough for you to get tired of waiting.

You trot to the sea by yourself. Over the roar of the waves you can faintly hear Mark call for you to wait up. And, since you know he's too nice for his own good and too dumb for yours, you wait for him.

He tries to run across the hot sand to get closer to you, but he loses his footing and nearly tumbles face-first into the sand. Luckily, he reaches out and grabs your shoulder to steady himself.

You only wobble a bit, then you smirk, "Have fun flirting?"

He runs his hands through his hair, looking confused. "I wasn't flirting."

You giggle, "What do you call buying a girl a snow cone right after she calls you Marky?"

His neck turns red and he looks back towards the snow cone stand, groaning when three girls wave coyly at him. "I hate that nickname. Besides, I was just being nice. I can get you a snow cone, too. That way they'll know it's a friendly thing."

You roll your eyes, "Are we gonna surf, or not, Marky?"

"Shut up."

☼

Mark purses his lips and looks up, squinting his eyes at the harsh sun. He's resting on his board, one leg bent and the other hanging limp in the saltwater below. "Surfing is so exhausting."

"Tell me about it," you huff excitedly, straddling your board as you watch him rest. It's been three hours, and it's only the first break that doesn't involve Mark reapplying sunscreen. So far, he's done well. You can't say he's graceful in the water, but his feet stay planted on the board, and in the end that's what matters. "I can't wait till next month when competition season rolls around. I'm looking to win first place."

Mark turns to look at you. His watch beeps, but he ignores it. Instead he grins, wider and brighter than you've ever seen before. "You can definitely do it. Watching you surf makes me think you were destined to be in the water. Connected to it, you know?"

It's not much. It's certainly a Mark Lee way of saying things, but it encourages you nonetheless and fills your veins with something close to affection. You think it might be gratitude. "Thanks, Mark. That means a lot."

He sits up and straddles his own board. From under the water, you can feel his ankle hook around yours, "I don't want us to drift apart," he says, and then he giggles, "that sounded like a cliché love quote, but I'm being serious. I'm scared of drifting off and getting stranded at sea."

You want to tell him that you're not even twenty feet out, and that Jaemin is watching from the lifeguard tower. Still, a part of you wants to humor him. You don't want him to feel bad for overreacting.

You don't really want him to feel bad for anything, once you think it over.

Mark reaches his arms over his head and stretches in the sun. He peaks over at you with one eye. A grin breaks out on his face and he laughs to himself. "Want to know what made me want to skateboard?"

"What?"

He drops his hands into his lap, "Tony Hawk Pro Skater."

You throw your head back and laugh, "You're joking! Is that why you suck?"

Mark scoffs and pushes you off balance, unhooking his ankle so that you fall into the water.

"Mark Lee!"

"It's what you get for saying I suck." He offers you a hand, "I'm obviously pretty great if you asked me for lessons."

Just to wipe the smug grin off of his face, you accept his hand and pull him into the water. His board flips over as he falls in.

You laugh happily as you wade your arms back and forth in the clear, cool water. When Mark finally resurfaces, sputtering and shaking his head back and forth, you swim over to him. "That's what you get, Marky!"

Mark splashes you, following up with a tackle. He throws his body onto yours and pushes you both into the sea. His arms link around your waist and your hands find his shoulders, still warm from his previous sunburn. Bubbles rise to the surface as you open your mouth in a broad smile against Mark's chest.

In this moment, you feel one with the sea and one with Mark. You feel a clench of happiness from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes.

Then you both break the surface, and the rush of the world returns like being awoken from an extraordinary dream.

You glance at Mark, who is still holding you up in the deep water. Water droplets race down his forehead and settle in against his eyebrows, or down the slope of his nose to his cupid's bow where he absentmindedly darts his tongue out to catch them before the fall back into the sea.

He crinkles his nose at the salty taste, chuckles, and gives you an innocent smile. Innocent, but it knocks your breath out for a moment. Because, weirdly enough, that gratitude-slash-attraction is back in your chest, beating loudly like a base drum. For a moment you wonder if he can hear it. "Mark?"

"Yeah? What's up?" He laughs breathlessly, and it's a cheerful sound. A friendly sound.

"I'm ready to go home and nap."

"Little surfer girl doesn't want to surf anymore?" He says it with a mocking pout, then, "I'm pretty tired too. Let's head back."

☼

"Here," Mark slips off his hoodie and hands it to you, leaving him in a thin, black t-shirt. "It's cold."

You had went surfing in just your swimsuit, opting out of a towel or a jacket. Now, the wind has picked up and you're standing around the boardwalk, looking like a fool as you wait around to dry.

You accept the hoodie gratefully and pull it over your suit until the dark green fabric falls against your thighs. "Thanks, Mark, but I thought we weren't skateboarding today."

You were supposed to go talk to Renjun today, and the prospect of it all had made you so nervous that you nearly opted out. You had chosen a morning surf instead, hoping to clear your mind.

Now? Your mind is still unclear. There's a small part part of you that finds itself excited at the thought of seeing and talking to Renjun. The rest of you feels burdened, and would rather skate or surf with Mark.

"We aren't, but I thought you might like moral support."

Mark is nice. He's nice and dumb and bright, simple in the best of ways. You see it now, the same as you always had, but this time there's a shift in the depth of your admiration for him. Now, there's a void in your mind when he isn't beside you. There's a pain in your heart when he talks about you liking Renjun.

Right now you don't think you like Renjun anymore.

"Do you want to get lemonade instead?" you ask.

For one quick second Mark brightens, but he hides it with a pout and a furrow of his eyebrows.

You hope he doesn't notice you staring at his lips, but he must've forgotten sunscreen again, because they're a pinkish-red and look chapped at the middle. They almost look kissable. Almost.

"At the place Jisung delivers?"

"Yeah," you say, not knowing what place he's referring to or who Jisung is. It doesn't really matter in the long run. "We can skate there."

Judging by the time you got home, grabbed your skateboard, got dressed, and came back, you're surprised Mark is still waiting around.

"Here," you hand him his hoodie and he takes it with a soft hum. "Thanks."

Mark pulls it on and drops his board to the ground, kicking off and leaving you to catch up with him. When you do, he grins, "You know, I've wanted to check this place out for awhile. Of all the deliveries Jisung makes, he talks about the lemonade shop the most."

"Maybe he has a crush," you say.

Mark narrows his eyes at the road ahead and sighs, "That could be it. There is one specific worker he talks about by name."

"We should do a bit of sleuthing while we're there."

"Maybe they'll go to the bonfire together."

"We should go to the bonfire together."

"What?"

Mark slows to a stop, "Seriously, Y/n, what?"

"A-As friends," you stutter. Inwardly, you curse yourself for saying something so brash. How long have you known Mark for? A week? Two at the most? Why would you even suggest going to a place couples went to when Mark is just your friend?

Why are you still pretending you only want to be friends with Mark?

He nods with a smile — as if he knows something — and for a moment you think he's figured it out. Then he speaks. "Oh, you want to make Renjun jealous, don't you?"

You momentarily wonder how you caught feelings for someone so oblivious. "Exactly."

Mark promises he'll be there, and when the two of you go get lemonade, you feel like the sour drink is a metaphor for your feelings. When the two of you watch Jisung — who you find out is the actually Mark's close friend — talk to the cute cashier behind the register, you find yourself wishing Mark would look at you with that kind of fascination.

It's a small wish, and it feels selfish, but for just a fleeting moment in time, you allow it.

☼

Mark is a lot of things. He's oblivious to the obvious, he's sweet to strangers, and he's confident in front of a crowd. He's friendly and kind, with a smile just awkward enough to comfort the nervous.

After spending nearly a month with him, you find yourself noticing other things about Mark. For instance, the way he rubs his earlobe when he doesn't hear something the first time, as if it will somehow help him hear better the next. Or the way he always does small dance moves when music is playing. Or the way he picks wild flowers he finds growing in the pavement and sticks them behind his ear.

You think the way he scuffs his shoe soles against his board when he's waiting for someone is adorable. The way his voice rises as he gets more nervous makes your heart soar with delight and giddiness. When Drops of Jupiter pours out over the scratchy boardwalk speakers, you can't help but giggle at the way Mark belts out a slightly out-of-tune rendition of the song.

It only took him a month to make you forget about your crush on Renjun.

You think it will take a lot more than a month to forget about your crush on Mark.

The thing is, the deal to get Renjun to like you is slowly fading into nothingness. At least, in your mind it has. Now you and Mark hang out daily, whether it be to skate, surf, shop, or sunbathe.

In your mind, you want to count these as dates, but then Mark buys a lemonade for an attractive person and you find yourself doubting.

Because as dumb as Mark can be, you also find yourself struggling to make sense of his actions. You want desperately to know if he likes you too, but his strive to be kind above all things confuses you more often than not.

And so you're left in this limbo between wanting to confess and hoping things will stay the same.

But tonight's the bonfire, and you want more than anything to pull him close and whisper your affections to him. You just have to be brave enough to push through your anxiety and do it.

You can do it. You know you can, because when Mark meets up with you at the bonfire, he's wearing skinny jeans and a soft sweatshirt that make him look less than intimidating. And when he places his hand against the small of your back and pushes you towards the beach, you find the gesture to be comforting. Encouraging, even.

When he declines someone's offer to go swimming with them — "I'm with Y/n, tonight." — you think maybe he's been thinking the same way as you all along.

And when the sun disappears and there's only fire to keep you warm, Mark pulls you into his lap and holds you close, tucking his chin against your neck. When he talks to you, his breath against your skin is hot enough to make you squirm.

The fire heats up the skin of your face and Mark's palms are splayed across your stomach. The feeling is enough to make anyone feel comfort, but you can't help but also want to turn around and kiss him like crazy. You want to feel him sigh against your lips and you want everyone at this bonfire to know that he's yours and you're his.

There are university students running around with glow sticks wrapped around their neck. There are teenagers swimming in the shallow ocean, no fear for what lies in the depths beneath. There are Mark's friends just a few feet away, some with dates and some by themselves, but Mark hasn't talked to them once and you don't think he's planning to.

He presses his lips against your neck and your breath hitches.

Your lips clamp together as warmth burns up your neck to your cheeks and then down to the pit of your belly. His lips are still chapped; you can tell by the roughness against your skin. Still, there's something so •Mark• about it that you can't find it in yourself to complain. "What are you doing?"

His nose brushes your skin as he nuzzles his face against your neck. One gentle sigh leaves his lips and spans across your skin, "I-I really like you Y/n, and right now I really want to kiss you."

Because he brings it up, you oblige. It's not easy to turn around and place one knee on each side of his lap — especially because Mark's sitting on a log — but you manage.

Mark doesn't shave on the weekends. You know because his chin is scratchy when you rub your thumb against it. He chases your thumb with his lips, pressing an amiable kiss against the pad. You both giggle. In the light of the fire, Mark seems to be glowing. He looks like an angel, some sort of purity in human form that can't be tarnished and can't be shaken.

He's a rock and a pearl all at the same time, and you think you're falling in love with him.

You cup his face and lean in. His lips taste like saltwater taffy and lemonade, and they feel softer than you had previously concluded. His chest heaves deeply and slowly. When you bite his bottom lip he retorts by tugging on your hair, and when he groans quietly you find yourself giggling out of pure joy and disbelief that you finally have Mark Lee in your arms.

You rest your head on his shoulder and stay in his lap.

Mark's friends come over to talk to him. At the sound of his soft murmurs, you nearly fall asleep. Mark holds you closer and rocks you from side to side, keeping you warm against the ocean's chill.

Mark's dumb sometimes, but he's also safe, compassionate, and kind. You think there's no one on this earth you could ever find more interesting and wonderful than him.

And now, as his heart is beating against your palm, you think you've got the entire world in your hands, and you wouldn't change a thing about it.

#send me anon hate for the horrible pacing of this #sounds of the summer au #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #nct fluff #nct scenarios #destwrites

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nejiraez · 6 years

Note

i dunno if you've heard of eyelash wishes before (And if you havent lemme tell you now they are cute as HELL) but hows about izuku, kirishima, and shinsou headcanons for when their crush is just like STARING at them for a long while and when they ask them why their crush just reaches out, gently and carefully picking up an eyelash that was chillin on their cheek and then asks them to make a wish, its just, i remembered eyelash wishes were a thing and died a lil at how cute.

I haven’t heard of an eyelash wish before, so I searched it up on YouTube (i’m so lame adskl) and you were right anon! This is super cute, especially with these lovely boys~!

Midoriya Izuku

Despite having a shy and timid personality, Midoriya was a very compatible person to work with and was able to befriend almost anyone in his class.

Including you. Nonetheless, he happened to become more bashful around you and whenever he had to speak to you in class.

Midoriya happened to have a small- huge – crush on you. Thus, holding conversations with you was a bit of an obstacle.

It was on a weekend morning when Midoriya was up and awake in the common room studying the quirks of past heroes.

It was silent, up until he heard the quiet patter of footsteps coming from behind him.

“Midoriya? What are you doing here so early?” He hears someone ask in a curious tone from behind him.

Turning around he sees his crush. Which caused him to let out a flabbergasted sound and drop his analysis book onto the wooden floor.

“(Y-Y-Y/N)-san!?” He shouts, a bit too loudly. His eyes are stuck on his crush as they make their way to sit on the cushion beside him on the couch.

“What are you doing?”

Midoriya sheepishly picks up his book again and stares back down at the pages to avoid eye contact with them.

“J-Just studying is all…” he murmurs faintly.

His crush leans in closer to have a better look at the notes on his page, “That’s really impressive, Midoriya!” They compliment.

‘S-So close!’ He thought.

He was about to return his gratitude but he was interjected with their hand making its way to his face to take something off.

“Well, would you look at that! It’s an eyelash, Midoriya! Make a wish!”

“H-Huh?” He inquires a bit wearily.

“It’s something called ‘eyelash wishes’. It’s really rare when an eyelash happens to be visible on someone’s cheek, so you must make a wish. For good luck… or something,” they say.

Midoriya couldn’t help but to feverishly look away at the sight of his crush’s cuteness.

“If you say so, then…” He closes his eyes and thinks of a wish.

“I wish to become more confident around (Y/N).”

Opening his eyes again, he is met with the sight of his crush giggling at him.

“What? W-What’s wrong?” He asks worriedly.

Their giggles dying down, they wipe the stray tears from their eyes and calm down a bit to say, “Nothing! It’s just that that was a really nice wish, Midoriya!”

Huh? What do you mean by–

…

OH MY GOD, HE JUST SAID HIS WISH OUT LOUD.

By now, Midoriya’s face was as red as a tomato as he began to apologize profusely, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to say that out loud!!”

Smiling, they pat his shoulder encouragingly, “It’s okay, Midoriya! I really hope that wish comes true!”

And queue Midoriya fainting right then and there.

Kirishima Eijirou

Kirishima is a very outgoing guy and overall is an easy person to approach. He makes small talk easy with anyone and everyone!

Well… everyone for you that is. He can’t help but trip up over his words whenever you were around. One minute he can be speaking perfectly fine, but when you pop into the picture he becomes a babbling idiot.

Today, he managed to musk up enough courage to have a conversation with you. And for once, he actually knew what to say! Not like he plans his conversations with you beforehand, aha what?

The conversation was going great so far. However, his crush paused midsentence and seemed to be in a daze. They were staring at his face, almost as if they were observing it.

Kirishima began to worry though. Was there something wrong with his features?

Oh, my GOD. What if he forgot to wipe the ketchup stains off of his face from lunch earlier that day??

Is that why his crush is staring so hard at him?

“U-Uh… is there something on my face?” Kirishima asks, a bit worriedly as he subconsciously lifts his arm to wipe away at whatever it was on his face that made you ogle at him in such a way.

‘This isn’t cool at all! I made myself look like a fool in front of them!’ he thought in agony.

Leaning in, his crush bends in closer to his face and presses their hand to his soft cheek.

Thinking that you were preparing to kiss him, Kirishima tightly shuts his eyes and puckers his lips, waiting for your lips to meet his.

“Got it! You can open your eyes now!”

Reopening his eyes, Kirishima furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

What…? What did you get?

Between you forefinger and thumb, you held a minuscule portion of his eyelash.

“You had a stray eyelash on your cheek, Kirishima! You know what that means, right?”

By now, Kirishima was perplexed as to what had just happened. Not really knowing what you were referring to, he silently shakes his head.

“It means you get to make a wish! Anything that you dream of may come true! So, make one!” They say, nudging the eyelash closer to him. Indicating that he should take it from them.

Slowly and carefully, he reaches for the eyelash and then looks at his crush once again.

He sighs and follows through with what he was told and makes a wish. Once finished, he dusts the lash off of his hand.

“So…? What did you wish for?!” They ask the redhead enthusiastically.

“O-Oh! N-Nothing really, it’s not really interesting. It was just for me to be stronger or something…” he mumbles, turning his head to face the opposite way, away from his crush so that they may not see the red flush making its way onto his cheeks.

I wish to have more days like this with (Y/N)…

Shinsou Hitoshi

Whenever people would start talking to Shinsou out of the blue, he becomes confused.

Is there something that they want from him? Are they here to taunt him about his quirk?

So when his crush came up to talk to him all of a sudden, he was gravely worried and shocked.

First off, they know his name? He was honoured.

Secondly, is he in an alternative universe? His crush came up to talk to him! Not the other way around! And for once, they talked about things outside of school!

Essentially they shared small talk, which was a relief for Shinsou.

Any conversation that he got to have with his crush, you may consider Shinsou a very happy boy.

The exchange of dialogue between the two went very smoothly.

So when you fell silent for a little while, Shinsou didn’t think much of it and continued to speak. However, you haven’t replied… at all.

Deciding to check in to see what was wrong, he turns in your direction to see that your face so close to his. Which surprised him quite a bit.

He thought you were incredibly beautiful from afar whenever he’d stare at you, but up close?

Oh God, help fight off the dark hue of red making it’s way up to his cheeks. You were stunning. He’s never got to see you this close before!

“Is there… something wrong, (Y/N)?” He asks, a bit quieter than usual. For he was too flustered to look you in the eye, due to how close your proximity was.

Steadily lifting a finger to his cheekbone, his crush plucks something off from his face.

“As expected, Shinsou! You do have purple eyelashes to match your hair! The only difference is that your lashes are a shade darker!”

Shinsou raises his eyebrows at the fact that you were holding a piece of his DNA between your fingertips with such interest.

“I see…” He lowly remarks.

His crush lifts their finger near his mouth and says, “You know what to do, right? Make a wish and blow it away! Legend has it, that whatever you think of may come true!”

Shinsou hesitates but is met with the sheer attentiveness in his crush’s (e/c) eyes. How could he possibly say no to them?

Obliging, he shuts his eyes and ponders over what he should wish for.

Once he thought of one, he lightly blew away the stray eyelash off of his crush’s finger and reopened his eyes again.

“Hopefully whatever you wished for comes true, Shinsou!”

“Yeah… I hope so too.”

I hope to have a closer a bond with (Y/N)…

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijirou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #boku no hero academia headcanon

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lichlover · 6 years

Note

hello can i get one order of taakitz fluff?? just. cuddles. jokes and japes. smth quiet n warm in front of a couch. thank u i adore u and your writing

happy birthday, seren!!! you’re an inspiration and an incredible talent and i’m so, so lucky to call you my friend. that said: one order of taakitz fluff, coming right up! i told you i was taking notes.

please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Kravitz can’t find his cloak.

That wouldn’t normally be a problem. It’s a material construct that he can dematerialize and summon at will. Technically, it’s an extension of his manifest, which in the past has led to some fairly interesting discussions over the sacrament of pillow talk. But lately he’s found snippets of information and common sense slipping through his brain like a sieve—human error, he might have called it, had he been human. The thing about the real world is that it’s bright and loud and it moves terribly fast, and the passage of time is stiffly marked by increments of hours and minutes and seconds, and for how long he’s been living with Taako in the material plane, one would think he’d be used to it.

He isn’t.

That’s why the watch sitting on his wrist reads a good ten minutes after when he was supposed to be at the office. (At least, it would, if it told time in minutes—it’s more of a vague impression of lateness, which Kravitz feels like a prickle across his neck.) Taako’s side of the bed is empty; he’s a surprisingly diligent early riser when he needs to be, which means he’s (a) already at work and (b) mercifully not there to see Kravitz on his knees, digging through the sea of clothes that smother the floor of their walk-in closet. It’s not the way he’d wanted to spend his morning and it certainly isn’t the way he’d expected.

He’s been at it for some time now—if he has to approximate, about the length of a wine being aged, or a star being born—and some endeavors, however brave, must ultimately be abandoned. Kravitz stands up, immediately slips on a gauzy blouse, and lands on his back with a mountain of scarves to cushion his fall. And oh, that is it. The sun isn’t risen and he’s already had it.

He storms into the living room in a huff, thinking maybe if he checks the coat rack one more time, it’ll just magically appear. The universe owes him a few small miracles, anyway. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to want him to cash in, because his cloak isn’t hanging on the rack, and it isn’t draped over the arm of their recliner like it is when he’s too agitated to bother. Kravitz’s gaze darts from the recliner to the couch, where a lamp’s soft light breaks up the monotony of darkness, and then he sees it. A layer of impossibly soft suede and peaceful, settled feathers, wrapped tightly around Taako’s sleeping form.

“Oh,” Kravitz breathes, and just like that, he morning’s frustration melts away. Taako’s ears are set at a relaxed incline, and his lips are slightly parted by the occasional shallow exhale. He’s actually sleeping, Kravitz knows; not trancing, because there is no telltale flutter of his eyelashes or complete, meditative stillness. When he shifts, the cloak shifts with him, feathers perking and ruffling before they settle again. Kravitz has never known it to attune itself to anyone other than him, but somehow, he thinks, it suits Taako well.

He rocks back on his heels, debating the possibility of just going to work without the thing; he can do without a little dramatic flair just once. Of course, his internal agonizing is promptly cut short when Taako stirs again and looks blearily up at him.

“Mm,” he says, and then tries again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” says Kravitz, softly. “I thought you were at work.”

Taako shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d go ’n, uh…” He breaks off into a tiny yawn. “Thought I’d make some tea or somethin’. Kinda ended up here instead.”

Ended up here, indeed. Kravitz is familiar with Taako’s late-night pacing and unconventional rhythms. On some particularly restless nights, he’ll wake up to hear pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, or something sizzling on the stove. After he wakes up, he very rarely falls asleep again. Kravitz, for whom Circadian cycles really don’t mean anything, tends to stay up with him.

Which is why this is so rare. And now he’s kicking himself for practically standing around and waiting for Taako to wake, even though Taako himself doesn’t seem bothered. Instead, he detangles his arms from the folds of Kravitz’s cloak and reaches out.

“Why’re you just standin’ around like that?” he mumbles. “C’mere.”

Kravitz’s work-oriented self says, I can’t, I really have to go, it’s a lot easier than it should be to blow off an actual goddess and I shouldn’t be taking advantage of that. The part of him that’s exhausted and aching from frantically digging through a mountain of clothes gives in straightaway. He relents, and Taako inches toward the edge of the couch, still half-buried under a mound of feathers. With admittedly practiced ease, Kravitz climbs carefully over Taako’s legs and tosses a few pillows to the ground as he situates himself. Before he can get himself completely settled, though, Taako shifts again and tucks himself into Kravitz’s side, prodding at the cloak to drape it over them both. A soft, familiar hum of static ripples over them as it comes back into contact with its original owner, and the feathers shudder, then go dormant once more.

“I should be at work,” he says, to no one in particular.

The cloak flutters as Taako shrugs. “You can kick it for a couple hours, right? They try to send Barry or Lup after us, I’ll just throw up some good ol’ wards around the place.”

“You know that would kick me out too, right?”

“Really? Shit. Guess we’re livin’ on a prayer, then.” He snickers at his own wit. “Anyway, we both—we deserve a day off. Or at least a morning off. If it’s even morning. What time is it?”

Kravitz thumbs absently over Taako’s hairline and says, “What were you doing up?”

“Huh?” Taako’s eyes flick to his through a few angled feathers. “Like I said. Just, uh… just got, uh, restless. Happens sometimes, y’know?”

He’s holding Kravitz’s gaze too steadily. It’s a tell he himself is more than familiar with—in a gamble, for instance, a bluff is always faulted by the player’s overconfidence. If they act too honest, too assured, the façade drops faster than they can fold.

Taako is remarkably good at façades, but lying to Kravitz is the one thing he’s never seemed to have gotten down. It probably denotes something meaningful, which doesn’t really matter right now, because Kravitz is only concerned with why Taako would be lying.

The answer probably is, as it so often seems to be nowadays, Because I didn’t want you to worry.

His husband threads a few of the feathers between his fingers, and the back of Kravitz’s neck prickles, although not altogether unpleasantly. “Okay, yeah. It was just a—just a fucked-up nightmare, okay? I didn’t do anything bad. It’s all—Taako’s all good. I just couldn’t stay in there.” He tips his head in the vague direction of their bedroom, where the covers on their bed are now thrown back on both sides, and the floor is covered in clothing.

The cloak gives another brief, distinctly anxious shudder, and suddenly its attunement to Taako makes a lot more sense. Kravitz can feel that anxiety in the pit of his stomach as easily as if it were his own. If the cloak is an extension of his soul, then they’re soulbound, or something to that end. (There’s another word for what they are, in another universe, where those bonds are etched deep into their skin. But that sort of thing is better suited for a different story.)

So Taako isn’t all good. It doesn’t take a soulbinding to know that. But he shifts the cloak over his shoulder and Kravitz notices that his breathing is even, his pupils thin and ears still lying dormant. He is, for all intents and purposes, at peace as he tucks his head under Kravitz’s chin and toys with the collar of his shirt. There’s truth in that much, at least.

And maybe it’s selfish—hell, it’s probably the most wishful he’ll ever be in his thinking. But Kravitz can’t help but notice the way Taako shrinks stubbornly under the cloak, like it’s shielding against the open air or some residual darkness. And because it’s far too early in the morning and exhaustion is starting to drag at his eyelids again, he has to ask.

“Does this—does it help?”

“Does what help?”

“The, uh… the cloak.”

“It’s not—” Taako scoffs. “It’s not a fuckin’—security blanket. I was just cold, okay?”

He doesn’t want a response to that, not really. So Kravitz threads his fingers fondly through Taako’s hair, which as of late has been more of a reflex than anything else, and Taako moves a little closer and reaches up drowsily to return it in kind. Regardless of whatever had roused him at some ungodly hour, in the moment he looks more than recovered. Kravitz watches his eyelashes flutter and thinks as long as it’s over, he doesn’t need to know. Not now.

(It’ll come up in conversation, as it always does, over a candlelit table for two or in front of a raging fire when all they have is each other, and the honesty that follows at the heels of those moments. Sometimes truth is a slow burn, and sometimes it’s spontaneous and a little drunk, and they’ve both found they’re alright with that.)

The clock on their far wall ticks softly away, and they lie curled into each other under the cloak, dozing as the sky starts to grow paler and Kravitz’s watch informs him, in a language older than time itself, that it’s really not even worth going into work at this point. The Raven Queen’s resonance hasn’t reached out, he’s noticed; nor have Lup or Barry smashed through the entryway and demanded to know where the fight is. It’s a quiet, far-too-early morning, and they’re safe and warm and all they have is each other.

Taako is the first to break the silence.

“Alright,” he mumbles, and then, “fine, get off my shit, it kinda—it’s part of your manifest or whatever, right? So, yeah, it makes me feel safe. Duh.”

His expression is nearly impossible to make out under the feathered hem, but the tips of Taako’s ears are slightly flushed in a very familiar way.

You make me feel safe.

Kravitz has gotten pretty adept at reading between the lines, and for good reason.

“Well,” he says. “That’s what I’m here for. Quite literally, in this case.”

A bit of the cloak hits him in the shoulder, and, well, fine, he deserved that. “That barely made any fuckin’ sense.”

“It’s not even six-thirty, you can’t expect me to make sense.”

“You’re a dork,” Taako snarks, and tugs at his collar again, and pulls Kravitz in for a kiss. It’s sharp and languid and perfectly suited for the early morning, and the pale sky, and the way they’re both clinging to each other for balance. The cloak’s feathers jump and flutter excitedly. He’s late—dear gods, he’s so late—and it’s perfect.

They pull apart, and his husband’s voice is light and breathless as he says, “You stickin’ around?”

And it’s by sheer coincidence—although if the universe has taught him anything, it’s that a coincidence is more often than not a trick of Fate—that right then, the Raven Queen’s voice echoes in his head.

IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT, MY SON? comes the projection, strong and full but cautious in volume (because they’ve both learned from incidents past). HAVE YOU ELECTED TO… TAKE A DAY OFF, AS THE MORTALS SAY?

Kravitz locks his gaze with Taako’s.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

#inkedinserendipity #ask #the adventure zone #taz balance #taakitz #fic #mine #happy birthday darling!!!

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cha-ching-chengcheng · 6 years

Text

Wish | Ding Zeren

You just wish he was yours

Note: This is hella long so get ready lol. This was also supposed to be the first in my tutor series???? but it has nothing to do with tutoring???

“Welcome class!” The middle-aged instructor announces with a big grin

Though this class is in a big lecture hall, there can’t be more than 30 people in the whole room

The turn out is more than underwhelming but I guess that’s what fuels the instructor to have such enthusiasm

“Happy first day!” She continues

Some lazy cheers and supportive whoots come from different parts of the room

The instructor studies the crowd before commanding, “Scoot closer, guys! It’s hard looking all over the room when there are only a few of you!”

You happen to be sitting in the middle of the second row so you just kinda wait for people to join you

A guy sits next to you, but he looks, in a word, stressed

Well okay, maybe not stressed but like

Concerned

He’s holding this cup of coffee like it’s a fucking life-jacket and you’re just looking at him like ‘are you okay?’

The instructor nods approvingly seeing the class now clustered into the middle section of the first and second rows

“Welcome to Korean 1”

She then starts the first lesson

An hour and a half later, your class is granted a 20 minute break, but in that time, you guys are expected to pair up

The first homework assignment is a group presentation

Great

As other people pair up and step out of the class to get fresh air, you stay seated

You don’t know anyone in this class

You look around, hoping there’s someone who looks as confused as you

But it doesn’t take that much effort because the person you’re looking for is sitting right next to you

“Do you wanna be partners?” You ask him

He looks over at you and you’re just like

WOW

How are his lips so?? Appealing???

He smiles for the first time this morning and you’re like

Oh shit

That’s one hell of a smile

“Yeah.” You try to smile back like a normal person but you’re pretty sure your face isn’t hiding the fact that you’re totally enamored with this dude

He doesn’t seem to notice though, he just holds out his hand for a handshake

“I’m Zeren”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself too

How are his hands so warm????

“Wanna get some fresh air?” He asks

“Yeah” You’re trying so hard not to sound too enthusiastic

You two walk out of the lecture hall and head out to the courtyard

The sun’s shining just enough that it’s warm but a few clouds swimming around prevent it from being too hot

“It’s a nice day” You try to make casual conversation

“It is” He smiles and you have to stop yourself from falling over

Suddenly, you hear some guy yell “Ding Zeren!” Zeren whips around and you see this dude with dyed blonde hair naruto running towards you two

The blonde dude says something but you realize it’s in Chinese

Zeren replies unfazed

Wait a minute

A Chinese dude taking a Korean language class?

Sounds like a bad and a bit racist joke

The blonde dude notices you standing there with wide eyes and says something to Zeren wiggling his eyebrows

Zeren suddenly gets super flustered and says something to the blonde dude before turning to you

“Um y/n, this is Justin, my friend” then he turns to Justin and says “Justin this is y/n, my classmate”

Okay you don’t know a word of Chinese but something definitely happened in that last 30 seconds

Nevertheless, you smile politely at Justin and say “Nice to meet you”

By the end of the class you guys decide to exchange numbers with plans of meeting tomorrow at the campus coffee shop

And now it’s tomorrow

You decide to go to the coffee shop early so you can order your drink beforehand and not have to waste any time when he gets there

As you walk in though, you see a familiar face: Justin

He’s standing behind the counter looking bored, once he sees you though, he perks up a bit

“Y/n! What are you doing here?”

“I’m meeting Zeren so we can work on a project”

“Nice” Justin nods in approval “Oh! Here he is!” You look toward the door and you swear you hear Justin mutter “Where’s my popcorn?”

Zeren walks up to you guys

“So what’d you like to order?” Justin says

You turn back to face him and say “Medium mocha”

“Mkay” Justin rings up the order and you reach into your backpack to get your wallet

Zeren steps forward though “How much?”

“$4.75” Zeren reaches into his backpack and pulls out his wallet

“Oh no, you don’t have to-”

“Oh come on, it’s the least I can do”

He takes out a $5 bill and hands it to Justin. Justin smirks, taking the money

“Aren’t you going to order anything?”

“Huh?” Zeren’s cheeks blush “O-oh, yeah.” He smiles nervously and it’s seriously the cutest thing in the world

“I’ll have a medium americano”

Justin rings up the order and you guys go to wait at the other end of the counter

And it is AWKWARD

Holy cannoli why is it so awkward right now?

As the song playing over the speakers changes, you both start tapping your foot to the beat

It’s honestly a much better song, with a good sound that you could dance to

You start nodding your head to the rhythm

You look over and notice he’s doing the same

He sees you looking and smiles shyly

“Do you dance?” You ask him

“Yeah. Do you?”

“A little. I don’t dance as much as I did in high school.” He nods.

“Order for My Number One Ship!” Justin shouts even though you guys are literally right there

You guys both just stare at him in shock

Did he just say???

What you think he said???

You guys look down at the drinks and you notice that half of a heart is drawn on each one. Justin pushes the two cups together and the two sides of the heart almost join

Zeren gives Justin this look that you can’t quite read

But like

Props to Justin for being the best wingman ever

You take your cup and quickly turn around to go to a seat

You try to nonchalantly fan yourself, hoping the fresh air will cool down your cheeks

It doesn’t really work

You slide into a booth trying to take calming breaths

He joins you on the other side of the booth, staring at his coffee

You open your backpack, taking out a notebook and pencil

“Let’s um, let’s get started”

Two months later, you guys are still talking

You’re actually really good friends now

It’s all pretty chill except for the fact that you still like him

So now it’s Tuesday, and you guys are studying in his dorm room

But for some reason, it’s awkward

The music lazily spilling out from the speaker is playing the same old songs

The notebooks spread out around you are still filled with the same old notes

And yet something is different

You guys are sitting at opposite ends of his bed, eyes focused on your own textbooks

But it feels like neither of you are actually studying

You risk a glance his way and find him looking at you already

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest

“What?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady

He blinks a few times, returning his eyes to his textbook

“Nothing.” He stammers

“What is it?” You try again

“Do you…” He starts, avoiding your eyes

He looks back down at his textbook

“Do you know how to solve this?” He points at a math problem in the textbook

You scoot closer, leaning over to see it

You start to look at the numbers, but your mind wanders to how close you two are

Your shoulder and his are touching

Your knee is just barely brushing against his thigh

His right hand is resting next to your left one

You look up without thinking, and find that his face is mere inches from yours

His eyes meet yours and you forget how to breathe

You glance down at his lips but quickly retreat back to his eyes

His left hand reaches up, and he brushes your cheek with his thumb

“You have an eyelash” He mumbles

He keeps his hand up and shows the eyelash balancing on his thumb

“Make a wish” His voice is just above a whisper

You lightly blow the eyelash off his thumb, quickly glancing down only to look back up at him afterwards

The only wish that comes to mind is for this moment to last a bit longer

You silently plead with the universe to let you have that one wish…

His hand returns to your face, lightly stroking your cheek, tucking a stray hair behind your ear

Suddenly, you can’t hear the music

The only sound you can make out is the two of you breathing

Every cell in your body wants to be close to his

There’s a pulling feeling in your chest begging you to close the distance between you two

His hand slides down to your chin

His thumb grazes your bottom lip and suddenly breathing is a difficult task again

He leans forward but hesitates, unsure

Your lips are so close

You lean forward just an inch and suddenly you’re kissing

Your hand meets his on your cheek, your fingers wrapping around his warm palm

The kiss ends slowly

You stay close enough that you can feel each other’s breath

“Hey” He says, leaning back a little. You look up at him, waiting for him to continue

“I think…” He looks up and down your face, infatuation pooling in his deep brown irises

“I think I’m in love with you”

-Alison

#ding zeren #idol producer #idol producer scenarios #tutor series

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wr1tersblock42 · 6 years

Text

If the shoe fits

My week 1 entry for @tpthvegebulmayhem

Keep reading below, or read on FFic or AO3!

The base from the party vibrated through the compound, shaking the dining room chair Vegeta sat on. Much to his disgust, even the scent of cheap cigarettes and sickly-sweet alcohol managed to permeate its way to the eating area, tainting what should have been a delicious late-night snack of stir-fried beef and noodles with a spicy chilli and soy sauce.

With a growl, Vegeta forced himself to swallow his latest ashy mouthful, then stood up, scraping the chair behind him noisily and slamming his hand on the table. Not that anyone was there to hear his temper tantrum. No, the Briefs were all at Capsule Corp's annual winter ball, mingling with those revolting humans they called "employees".

Those humans repulsed Vegeta, every single one of them. The way they preened in front of the doctor and his daughter, practically salivating for a slither of their attention, was all too like the way Frieza's men paraded themselves around the self-proclaimed Lord of the Universe. Still, he could have put up with their presence it if they were on the grounds and not disturbing him. But now they had spoilt the first meal he'd had after eleven hours straight of gruelling training and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do something about it.

Vegeta left his cooling food on the table and strode out of the main house, intent on insisting that they remove everyone from the property before he got rid of them all… permanently.

The air outside was brisk and heavy with frost, as if the clouds above might break with their load of frozen water at any moment. Vegeta shivered, wishing he'd grabbed something warmer to put on over his dark green t-shirt, and despite still being weary from his training, raised his ki slightly to compensate.

As he got closer to the raucous party the base only got stronger, each thud making his stomach turn. The scent grew worse, now mixing with pungent human body odour.

The ball was held in the west wing of the compound, in a large hall that Vegeta had ventured into once when exploring. A staircase led to large wooden double doors that he knew opened into a spacious marble floored room.

He hadn't made it to the base of the steps when they swung open and a woman swept out, silhouetted by the light from the room. Bulma, he realised, recognising her ki a moment before the moonlight hit her face.

A man followed her out, hissing something in a hushed tone, and he grabbed her arm to stop her descending. Vegeta recognised the scar faced warrior's ki immediately, and considered stepping in - not to assist the woman, but because he so enjoyed putting the weakling in his place. A part of him was curious to see how the woman would handle it though, so Vegeta suppressed his own ki and stepped back into the shadow of a tree.

"I'm sorry, B," the weakling said. "I know I shouldn't have come, but-"

"Damn right you shouldn't have come!" Bulma wrenched her arm away. "We broke up months ago Yamcha. You can't keep doing this." She began treading down the staircase in her blue high heels, letting out a sigh of irritation as he followed her.

"B, please," Yamcha said reaching for her again. "Things aren't the same without you."

The woman growled and stepped sideways, then yelped at the sound of a snap. She wobbled on the spot, then pulled her foot out of her shoe. It lay on its side on the step, it's broken heal at an odd angle. "Now look what you've done," she snarled. "Leave please, Yamcha. I told you I wanted space, and I meant it."

The weakling's face fell, but he nodded and made his way up the steps, disappearing into the hall.

As the doors closed once more, Bulma picked up the broken shoe, then threw it towards the garden with a frustrated yell.

Vegeta chuckled as it soared in his direction, and he caught it with one hand. "I thought the party was only food and dancing," he drawled, stepping into the moonlight and heading towards the staircase. "If I'd been informed there was a show as well I may have attended."

Bulma's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly masked it. "It is a ball, not a party. And what were you doing lurking in the shadows? I made sure you had plenty of food in the fridge."

"Your party was disturbing my meal." Vegeta bared his teeth into an expression that had made many an enemy literally piss themselves.

Bulma Briefs just threw her head back and laughed. "Please. I think you just missed me."

Vegeta scowled at that, then purposefully made sure he didn't stop his advance until he'd reached the same step she stood on to avoid being shorter than her. "I was looking forward to an evening without your constant yapping. But this…" he waved his hand in the direction of the hall, "this horrific noise is an insult to all good music."

The insolent women laughed again. "I didn't know you considered any music good." Her blue eyes sparkled inquisitively. "Now I'm curious. What sort of music does the mighty Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death enjoy?"

Vegeta smirked back at her, leaning in close so the sweet scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils and blocked out all the other disgusting humans. "Anything. But. This."

Bulma cocked her head but didn't reply, eyes narrowing slightly and a half smile quirking her lips. She shivered slightly, and Vegeta realised that the clouds had broken and a flurry was descending. As snowflakes began to drift between them, he noticed how pale she was, her skin almost as white as the snow landing in her hair.

"You're cold," Vegeta said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Bulma replied with a scowl.

Vegeta frowned back, unsure what a 'sherlock' was.

Bulma's frown twisted into something more mischievous. "Are you offering to warm me up?"

Vegeta flushed, suddenly warm despite still having his ki suppressed. He looked her up and down, taking in the tight fitting silver dress that did nothing to protect against the elements. "You claim to be a genius. I'm sure you can sort that out yourself." He grinned suddenly as he noticed the pile of blue curls on her head, decorated with silver flowers on pins. "Or you could let down your hair. It reminds me of a fluffy blue sheep. That will keep you warm."

"A sheep!" Bulma squawked, her cheeks turning red and eyes flashing with fury in a way that made Vegeta's blood heat in response. "I'll have you know that my hair is the height of fashion, not that you'd know anything about that you-"

She stopped talking abruptly, her mouth still open as Vegeta reached out with the hand not still holding her shoe, then slid his fingers into her tamed mane to find one of the pins holding it up. He pulled it out and dropped it on the ground where it fell with a small clatter.

Bulma's breath hitched and she shut her gaping mouth, but she didn't move away, her blue eyes watching him with an unreadable expression. So Vegeta inched closer still, until he was mere millimetres away from her, and continued finding pins in her hair and discarding them on the ground until it tumbled loose around her neck.

He drew his hand away, catching a lock of hair between his fingers. "Warmer?" he asked.

Bulma's tongue darted out as she licked her lips. She shook her head slowly, looking at him through her eyelashes.

Vegeta dropped her hair and trailed one finger along her collarbone, watching the way her skin reacted with goose bumps to her touch. He leaned in closer, raising his ki so it pulsated around them both. "How about now?"

Bulma's skin began to regain its pink hue, but she shook her head with a smirk then leaned into him, looping her arms around his neck. "You'll have to try harder," she whispered, her warm breath caressing his lips.

Vegeta met her gaze, searching for any signs of madness in her eyes. They'd been dancing around each other for weeks, and while the last thing he needed was a distraction he could honestly say he'd never met anyone as physically enticing as her who'd also managed to match his verbal wit blow for blow.

Finding nothing but curiosity and the same heat he felt pooling in himself in her gaze, Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death, leaned forward pressed his lips to hers carefully, half afraid that a mere kiss from someone as evil as him would make her spontaneously combust. She thankfully remained intact and tightened her grip around his neck, pulling him closer as she opened her mouth a little to deepen the kiss, and he found himself unable to do anything but respond in turn. He kissed her more forcefully and his hand opened of its own volition, dropping the shoe to the ground where it clattered down the steps.

When she pulled back, breathing heavily and cheeks red not from anger but from something else for the first time in his presence, she gave him a smile. It wasn't her usual mocking one, but an invitation. "You know…" she said slowly. "My bedroom has central heating."

Vegeta hesitated only a moment before completely throwing any concerns aside. He pulled her close, then took to the air with her in his arms and flew back to the other side of the compound, leaving the broken blue shoe at the bottom of the steps.

#tpth #tpthmayhem2018 #vegebul #Vegeta x Bulma #bulma #vegeta

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tpthvegebulevents · 6 years

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MAYHEM 2018 - WEEK 1 - [ANON D] “IF THE SHOE FITS”

Title: If the shoe fits

Description: He’s the prince of a fallen planet. She’s the princess of one of the most powerful companies on earth. It’s only natural that the two would be drawn to each other. There’s just one problem - the princess already has a beau.

After training all day, Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbringer of death, is furious that his post-training meal is ruined by the humans at the Brief’s annual winter ball. He goes to confront Bulma, but his priorities shift when her scar faced beau shows up and Vegeta realises that she is no longer interested in the weakling.

Is it possible that the prince has a chance with the princesses after all?

Rating: T

Media Type: Word Doc, 1620 words

With a growl, Vegeta forced himself to swallow his latest ashy mouthful, then stood up, scraping the chair behind him noisily and slamming his hand on the table. Not that anyone was there to hear his temper tantrum. No, the Briefs were all at Capsule Corp’s annual winter ball, mingling with those revolting humans they called “employees”.

Those humans repulsed Vegeta, every single one of them. The way they preened in front of the doctor and his daughter, practically salivating for a slither of their attention, was all too like the way Frieza’s men paraded themselves around the self-proclaimed Lord of the Universe. Still, he could have put up with their presence it if they were on the grounds and not disturbing him. But now they had spoilt the first meal he’d had after eleven hours straight of gruelling training and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do something about it.

Vegeta left his cooling food on the table and strode out of the main house, intent on insisting that they remove everyone from the property before he got rid of them all… permanently.

The air outside was brisk and heavy with frost, as if the clouds above might break with their load of frozen water at any moment. Vegeta shivered, wishing he’d grabbed something warmer to put on over his dark green t-shirt, and despite still being weary from his training, raised his ki slightly to compensate.

As he got closer to the raucous party the base only got stronger, each thud making his stomach turn. The scent grew worse, now mixing with pungent human body odour.

He hadn’t made it to the base of the steps when they swung open and a woman swept out, silhouetted by the light from the room. Bulma, he realised, recognising her ki a moment before the moonlight hit her face.

A man followed her out, hissing something in a hushed tone, and he grabbed her arm to stop her descending. Vegeta recognised the scar faced warrior’s ki immediately, and considered stepping in - not to assist the woman, but because he so enjoyed putting the weakling in his place. A part of him was curious to see how the woman would handle it though, so Vegeta suppressed his own ki and stepped back into the shadow of a tree.

“I’m sorry, B,” the weakling said. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but-”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have come!” Bulma wrenched her arm away. “We broke up months ago Yamcha. You can’t keep doing this.” She began treading down the staircase in her blue high heels, letting out a sigh of irritation as he followed her.

“B, please,” Yamcha said reaching for her again. “Things aren’t the same without you.”

The woman growled and stepped sideways, then yelped at the sound of a snap. She wobbled on the spot, then pulled her foot out of her shoe. It lay on its side on the step, it’s broken heal at an odd angle. “Now look what you’ve done,” she snarled. “Leave please, Yamcha. I told you I wanted space, and I meant it.”

The weakling’s face fell, but he nodded and made his way up the steps, disappearing into the hall.

As the doors closed once more, Bulma picked up the broken shoe, then threw it towards the garden with a frustrated yell.

Vegeta chuckled as it soared in his direction, and he caught it with one hand. “I thought the party was only food and dancing,” he drawled, stepping into the moonlight and heading towards the staircase. “If I’d been informed there was a show as well I may have attended.”

Bulma’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly masked it. “It is a ball, not a party. And what were you doing lurking in the shadows? I made sure you had plenty of food in the fridge.”

“Your party was disturbing my meal.” Vegeta bared his teeth into an expression that had made many an enemy literally piss themselves.

Bulma Briefs just threw her head back and laughed. “Please. I think you just missed me.”

Vegeta scowled at that, then purposefully made sure he didn’t stop his advance until he’d reached the same step she stood on to avoid being shorter than her. “I was looking forward to an evening without your constant yapping. But this…” he waved his hand in the direction of the hall, “this horrific noise is an insult to all good music.”

The insolent women laughed again. “I didn’t know you considered any music good.” Her blue eyes sparkled inquisitively. “Now I’m curious. What sort of music does the mighty Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death enjoy?”

Vegeta smirked back at her, leaning in close so the sweet scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils and blocked out all the other disgusting humans. “Anything. But. This.”

Bulma cocked her head but didn’t reply, eyes narrowing slightly and a half smile quirking her lips. She shivered slightly, and Vegeta realised that the clouds had broken and a flurry was descending. As snowflakes began to drift between them, he noticed how pale she was, her skin almost as white as the snow landing in her hair.

“You’re cold,” Vegeta said.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Bulma replied with a scowl.

Vegeta frowned back, unsure what a ‘sherlock’ was.

Bulma’s frown twisted into something more mischievous. “Are you offering to warm me up?”

Vegeta flushed, suddenly warm despite still having his ki suppressed. He looked her up and down, taking in the tight-fitting silver dress that did nothing to protect against the elements. “You claim to be a genius. I’m sure you can sort that out yourself.” He grinned suddenly as he noticed the pile of blue curls on her head, decorated with silver flowers on pins. “Or you could let down your hair. It looks like a fluffy blue sheep. That will keep you warm.”

“A sheep!” Bulma squawked, her cheeks turning red and eyes flashing with fury in a way that made Vegeta’s blood heat in response. “I’ll have you know that my hair is the height of fashion, not that you’d know anything about that you-”

Bulma’s breath hitched and she shut her gaping mouth, but she didn’t move away, her blue eyes watching him with an unreadable expression. So Vegeta inched closer still, until he was mere millimetres away from her, and continued finding pins in her hair and discarding them on the ground until it tumbled loose around her neck.

He drew his hand away, catching a lock of hair between his fingers. “Warmer?” he asked huskily.

Bulma’s tongue darted out as she licked her lips. She shook her head slowly, looking at him through her eyelashes.

Bulma’s skin began to regain its pink hue, but she shook her head with a smirk then leaned into him, looping her arms around his neck. “You’ll have to try harder,” she whispered, her warm breath caressing his lips.

Vegeta met her gaze, searching for any signs of madness in her eyes. They’d been dancing around each other for weeks and while the last thing he needed was a distraction he couldn’t honestly say he’d never met anyone as physically enticing as her who’d also managed to match his verbal wit blow for blow.

Finding nothing but curiosity and the same heat he felt pooling in himself, Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death, leaned forward kissed the Princess of Capsule Corporation.

He pressed his lips to hers carefully, half afraid that a mere kiss from someone as evil as him would make her spontaneously combust. She thankfully remained intact and tightened her grip around his neck, pulling him closer as she opened her mouth a little to deepen the kiss, and he found himself unable to do anything but respond in turn. He kissed her more forcefully and his hand opened of its own volition, dropping the shoe to the ground where it clattered down the steps.

When she pulled back, breathing heavily and cheeks red not from anger but from something else for the first time in his presence, she gave him a smile. It wasn’t her usual mocking one, but an invitation. “You know…” she said slowly. “My bedroom has central heating.”

#tpthvegebulmayhem2018 #tpth #week1mayhem2018 #mayhem #fanfiction #ratedT #anon d #romance #fluff #drama #one-shot

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noir0neko · 7 years

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intro: her- knj

we bloom until we reach one another.

(f)- fluff, some kiss action / 1.8k words- a lil love drabble / bf!knj / (x) + (x)

a/n: this drabble is based off of intro: serendipity and outro: her, and is about the beginnings of sweet love, hence the title, I hope you enjoy and get all fluttery and soft like I did while writing it ! much love~

It is often said that the grandest of things have the most humble beginnings.

You and him didn’t start out as anything beautiful, it was quiet. Like a small drop of rain falling into the ocean, a single plane flying amongst the millions of stars in the sky. The now complex world was nothing before it suddenly exploded into everything. The universe shifted and moved in order to allow grand things to fill it.

He could feel your eyes on the nape of his neck, wandering from the professor to the soft lines of his hair and back again, only half paying attention to the lecture taking place at the podium. With a lopsided smile, he turns around and grins at you, your cheeks turning pink and smiling back, waving lightly. For three weeks the two of you had been talking, getting to know each other, walking together after class, using assignments as an excuse to text one another during the day. You could sense something in him that intrigued you. You could see someone that excited you.

It feels pure. It feels good.

It feels terrifying.

Nothing in the world compares to the seedling of love. Nothing parallels its ability to control, confuse and contort every single perception of reality into something new. Something whole and less broken than it seemed to be before.

For months, you didn’t think you could move on. For months, you didn’t think you’d be less lonely. For months, there seemed to be a dim place within the recesses of your heart that you didn’t think would be refilled. But him. This boy. Maybe… just maybe-

“Namjoon?” The professor’s sharp voice racks you from your thoughts.

Kim Namjoon lowers his hand from his position in the air, his side profile smooth and visible to your eye as you turn to watch his lips move as he speaks. His voice is clear, articulate, each word he says in response to questions weighted with importance. His hand brushes against his copy of a classic novel, pages tabbed and no doubt filled with pen to document his thoughts.

The teacher approves his reply with a nod, laughing when he turns around to raise his eyebrows in happiness and surprise. “I’m impressed,” you whisper, leaning forward in the aisle between desks.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he says, eyes glinting with mischief.

You roll your eyes in flippance, sitting back in your chair and letting the butterflies to take flight in your stomach. He is intelligent, kind, hardworking, optimistic, respectful, honest… what else could you want?

With the end of the lecture, class is dismissed early, and you try to pack up at the same pace as Namjoon so you can get out of the door with him. Hurriedly, you zip up your bag as he is walking down the desk aisle, a sinking feeling in your stomach as he begins to get away. What seems like a sea of people separate you two, and you get your phone out to occupy yourself on the walk to your car, but Namjoon had waited for you by holding the door open for all the people in between you, bowing your head in thanks and smiling when he lets it close on the others behind so he can walk with you.

“How do you think you did on the test?” He asks, referring to the small ten question pop quiz we had on our readings.

“Super well,” you pause, “I hope.”

He laughs in agreeance, the afternoon air cold on your skin. Wind sings through the trees, groups of people walking to and from their classes, either talking to friends or encapsulated in their own worlds. He starts talking about his love of foreign languages, how he’d love to learn Latin, how he’s somewhat okay at Polish and Spanish, how the French course here is kicking his ass. You could listen to him talk all day, about nothing, about everything, loving the way his lips move, how his body talks with his voice.

“We should get together and study sometime,” he comments lightly, trying not to put implications behind his words, “I could use your help with French.”

You smile, nodding vigorously as you two approach his gleaming white car. “Of course, text me whenever you’re available, since you’re ever the busy guy, and I’m sure I’ll be free for you.”

He presses the key to unlock his car, but doesn’t get in it, standing with his backpack on his shoulders, looking at you with a heavy expression. He loved your joy, your seeming happiness for just being alive, your hope. He could use some of it within his life. Though on the same side of the coin, he was just as scared as you were. Of falling. But maybe it would be worth it to fall with you. Maybe it would be worth it to remove his mask, and be vulnerable.

“I don’t have class for another hour and a half,” he begins, question in his tone, “what about you?”

“Nothing for the rest of the day,” you say, watching him lean against the trunk of his car.

It is silent for a moment, and you hike your backpack up on your shoulders trying to think of something to say. But it seems all that you could, has already been, or has fled from your mind, only thinking about how much you want to close yourself into his chest to combat the wind.

“It’s been a long day,” he opens up more conversation, sliding his own backpack from his shoulders and onto the pavement, “I feel like I work too much to focus on school.’’ His eyelashes are dark when he looks down, kicking gravel with his feet.

“How many classes do you have?”

“Just three,” he says, “but it’s so easy to get overwhelmed with everything going on.”

You nod, wishing you were brave enough to ask what was going on in his life, but just settling for an, “I understand, it’s hard to juggle so many things at once,” instead.

His expression is thoughtful, hands moving as he speaks to try and get the words out, “it’s like, we bloom until we ache. We keep going and trying and yearning until it hurts us.”

You ponder the deep thought, tilting your head and catching his eye, “I completely agree. You’re so eloquent.”

He smiles somewhat sheepishly, the expression giving you the courage to move from in front of him and lean against his trunk as well, arms nearly touching in proximity. The wind begins to pick up, tossing unruly strands of your hair around your face. Namjoon crosses his legs at the ankles, an odd absence of words filling the air.

The sound of cars driving past in the parking lot consumes your thought, trying not to focus on the fact that the backs of your hands are nearly touching. A couple passes, arms around one another as the girl complains of the cold, getting her significant other to wrap their arms tighter around her small figure. Namjoon watches them, seeming to wonder, like you, how if would feel to have the other so close like that.

His arm moves as your wild mane blows against it, his body startled to feel any part of you against it. But unknowingly, the action drives you to step to the side a little, allowing cold air between you two.

“Sorry,” you laugh, trying to push your hair behind your ears, “my hair must feel left out of our conversation.”

He chuckles at your bad joke, reaching his opposite arm over to push it back for you, the feeling of his fingers on the shell of your ear giving you goosebumps. “It’s okay. If I had long hair, it would probably be jealous too.”

You smile at the ground, feeling his eyes on you.

“Do you ever feel like nothing is a coincidence?” His voice is hardly above a murmur, turning to him in order to hear his voice, “that fate has a hand in everything that happens to us?”

You blink, wetting your lips before answering, “I think some things are just too good to be considered coincidences. But sometimes fate can be cruel, mean, unlucky… ”

He can seem to sense your trepidation, can taste you fear as if it’s his own, because everything within you is reflected in him. As if you were within him all along. As if the wholeness he was searching for was right before his eyes.

“I’ll be your lucky charm,” he says, eyes gentle and kind, “your calico cat.”

You can feel the heat from his body radiating into yours, his eyes swimming with expression and unspoken questions that you find yourself saying yes too. You smell the soap he used, still see the slightly darker strands of his hair from when they were wet with water, fingers twitching at your side, wishing to know what it feels like.

“My calico cat,” you repeat, testing the words, “then what will I be to you?”

He doesn’t respond right away, chocolate eyes flitting from yours to the bridge of your nose, to your lips, lingering there for a moment. He ventures to minutely scoot closer, dipping his toe in the waters, your breathing completely still.

And Namjoon kisses you. His lips warm and soft. You feel like a child, insides exploding with light and the small spark within you igniting into a raging fire. His fingers hook beneath your backpack straps, pulling you into his embrace and warmth and scent. He opens his mouth against yours, hands instinctively going to quell their thirst to feel his hair, the strands like silk beneath your aching fingers.

It seems we bloom until we ache, he had said, the expression ringing in your ears.

We bloom until we reach each other.

His tongue moves along yours, and all the cold melts away into something hot, something grand. What a great day to be alive. His arms are firm in their grip, heads moving to accommodate one another and bodies shifting to eliminate any gaps. The world around shifts for you once more so it doesn’t exist, becoming only him within your veins. Part of you isn’t sure this is real, isn’t sure if fate could be this kind.

He tastes like fresh brew coffee, dark, energizing, beautiful. One of his hands lets go of your backpack when he pulls away, using the pad of his thumb to wipe across the skin of your soft cheeks, adoring the way they glow in both abashedness and cold.

“My angel. My world. That’s what you’ll be,” he pauses, smiling as your breath releases from your red lips in an amazed puff before continuing, “if you let me love you.”

~Admin Eggplant

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