#but genuinely I haven’t been able to write for more than 10 minutes at a time since October

[pettypiastri]

loss

matthew knies x reader

wc: 1.5k

warnings: hurt/comfort, swearing, crying, self deprecation, general sad, one moment where matty sort of punches a wall but reader is never on the receiving end of any aggression

a/n: can i write more than hurt/comfort? yes, but a bitch has a favorite. i have never written explicitly with a gn reader before but re-reading this i dont feel like i make any overt references either way so can be read as gn i think (lmk if i missed anything tho!). i wrote this in i think a single hour right after the 2022 usa wjc qf loss and have decided to post it now for no good reason. just a quick lil ficcy only minorly edited: she is beautiful to me as she is :) p.s. let's normalize typically sexual positions between characters as being the most comforting sometimes..

The team is finally given reprieve to undress from their sweaty uniforms and stand face first in a cold shower. As guys towel off, there are soft rumblings of interest in spending the night at respective significant others' hotel rooms rather than the team designated ones. Landon speaks quietly with his Captain on behalf of the room chatter. To those paying attention, Brock slips away and returns a few minutes later. Shortly after, Coach enters the room. The player’s spines shoot up straight, bracing for the impact of a verbal lashing about their poor performance. Instead, Coach Leaman barely lifts one corner of his lips.

“I’ve heard some of you are hoping to spend some time with girlfriends and families… Just make sure you’re back in your team designated hotel rooms at 10am. The bus is leaving for the airport at 10:30am sharp.” 

Bated breaths are released in relief.

~~~

Matthew’s eyebrows have been knitted together for at least an hour. Whether out of genuine frustration or a constant effort not to cry, you’re unsure. You’d have to guess it’s probably both. Your fingers ache to smooth the crease and chastise him lightly for encouraging wrinkles in the space between his strong brows.

You already know what he’ll be trying to convince himself of in his head; they’re failures, poor representations of Team USA, an embarrassment given last year’s first place finish, he didn’t do enough, try hard enough… From your position on the outskirts of postgame media and the shuttling around the players are forced to do, you’ve not made contact with Matthew yet. Haven’t told him how proud you are and how much you love him. How everything in his head is wrong. 

Just when your patience is wearing thin and your arms are starting to ache from being denied holding your love, there starts a steady trickle of players out of the dressing and media rooms. Matthew emerges, shoulders hunched forward and eyes shadowed by the hair he’s too dejected to push out of his face. His eyes scan slowly from behind his wet locks until they land on you. On instinct you smile softly and walk toward him. Your arms slip up his broad chest and around his thick neck, encouraging his sore body to fold into your smaller frame as much as possible. 

You’re not sure if there’s anything fitting to say in this first raw moment together so you stay quiet. Your fingers thread through Matthew’s damp hair just how you know he likes. A huge breath collapses Matthew’s chest against yours. His face drops into your neck as his next inhale hitches.   

“Let’s go… to uh– to yours.” Matthew mutters against your skin, a small sniffle betraying him. 

“Okay baby, let’s go.” Your tone is soft as your hand slides equally gently down his arm to lace his fingers with yours.

The walk is quiet. The streets of Edmonton are nearly desert as it’s half midnight on a Wednesday. Matthew’s stride is normally a workout to try and keep up with but today you find yourself gently tugging him along.

“C’mon big guy… almost there.” Your encouragement seems to break Matthew out of a wordless trance, his pace increasing just slightly. 

Through the lobby and up the elevator you lead him until you're able to get your door open. As the lock clicks shut behind the both of you, Matthew’s final walls break in the safety of your hotel room. He pulls you against his body almost desperately as he heaves a first sob. You cling to him as tight as you can to let him know you’re there but his hands are still restless; he can’t seem to hold you close enough. Matthew hoists you up, your legs moving to wrap around his waist as he presses you against the hotel wall. Now eye level with you, Matthew fits his head firmly into your neck and his arms constrict around your waist; the pressing of his body against yours meaning his exhausted arms don’t have to hold you up.

The tears are free flowing as he sobs quietly into the ‘Knies’ Minnesota jersey adorning your body. You feel your own eyes heat with emotion seeing your love so distraught. 

“It’s okay Matty, I’ve got you. I love you so much. It’s okay to cry, it's just me.” With your reassurance, Matthew balls his fists in the material of your jersey and tries his hardest to bury his face even farther in your skin, seemingly trying to, futilely, escape his own. “I love you Matty… I love you baby.” Is the mantra you settle on as you stroke his hair and his back and his shoulders, never giving him an opportunity to forget that you’re right there. 

“We’re– we’re a fucking em– embarassment!” Matthew spits as his shoulders shake beneath your palms. You feel your heart break a little more. “Out in the fucking… the fucking quarters!” His cry of dismay is punctuated by his palm slamming the wall beside your shoulder. You don’t worry for your safety; you know out of everything, Matthew is the most mindful of you, especially in this moment of heartbreak. 

“Shh Matty shh… don’t talk like that, come on honey.” He shakes his head against your shoulder. 

“What h-happened? We- we were so g-g-good before t-tonight.” 

“I know my love,” you console, “I’m so sorry.” His self deprecation declines as his cries of agony take over again. It’s some while before his tears slow too. 

As his breathing returns, you gently urge your sweet, broken boy to set you down. Having lost your eye level position, Matthew’s bloodshot eyes stare down at you for the first time since entering your hotel room. His face has swollen from so many tears and his upper lip is stained with snot. He wears an expression that you’ve only seen twice before; Frozen Four loss and when his Dad told him he was disappointed in him. You raise your hand to caress his cheek, sagging under the weight of self loathing and grief.

“C’mere…” With a gentle tug you guide him toward the bed in the center of the room. Matty follows without resistance. “Let’s get this off,” you say, lifting his team hoodie over his head and discarding it somewhere unimportant. You try to slip away for just a moment, but Matthew’s hand catching on your thigh protests the separation of your bodies. You're able to just barely reach for a pair of sweatpants.

“Change for me please, big guy.” He does so wordlessly and you take the second he's occupied for to slip to the bathroom. When you return, Matty is drooping again, elbows on his knees to support his head in his hands. Soft hands guide him to sitting again and before he can refold himself, you move to straddle him. His hands wind around you, face returning to its safe space in your neck. 

“Lemme see your face Matty, please.” Reluctantly but compliant as always, Matthew raises just enough for you to cradle his cheek in your hand. You swipe a tissue around his under eyes and most importantly his nose. He sniffles with a pitiful pout. A cool, damp washcloth finds his forehead, urging Matthew’s eyes to flutter closed. It’s a few seconds before you move it to cover his right eye. You stamp a kiss on his forehead. The washcloth travels across every inch of his face, each contact point proceeded with a kiss before you lay it lastly against his sternum hoping the cold will ease his anxiety. 

After tender hands are done cherishing, Matthew finally raises his head on his own accord. His beautiful green eyes find yours. The flecks of sadness in them have begun morphing into exhaustion. You lean forward and press your lips to his in a gentle kiss. Slowly you pull away.

“I love you,” he murmurs, staring deeply in your eyes, the intensity of his admiration comparable to his previous anguish. 

“I love you,” you echo. 

You place the washcloth to the side and stand up to pull back the covers so you can encourage Matthew to lay down. He does but reaches for you immediately. Without hesitation you join him, allowing him to settle atop you. When he finishes shifting into a comfortable position, you embrace him with arms around his back and legs woven with his. You finally find the right words.

“I’m so sorry Matty. I know you wanted to win gold but it’s not your fault. Everyone looked off out there from the start and Czechia fought tooth and nail. You’re an amazing hockey player and the most deserving guy. I’m so sorry but I’m still so so proud of you, always. I love you Matty.” 

Matthew sighs and cuddles further into you in acknowledgement. 

“Thank you. I love you too.” 

You listen to his breathing even out after a while, knowing he finally feels grounded enough to think of sleep. 

“You’re everything to me. I want you forever.” It’s muttered languidly, preciously, against your neck as your fingers continue running through his soft brown hair. His vulnerability makes you blush.

“You already have me… forever.”

#matthew knies #matthew knies x reader #matthew knies imagine #minnesota golden gophers #minnesota golden gophers hockey #gophers hockey #hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs #jackson lacombe #brock faber #jimmy snuggerud #logan cooley #so sorry but tagging for visibility <3 #my writing

[paper-land]

Just a note: this post started as a discussion of and is going to spend a decent amount of time discussing Yannick Mirko’s firing and replacement in Ride the Cyclone, but I realized I wanted to address my experience with ablism in theatre in general. I can’t force anyone to read this, but if you have the time and you care about representation in theatre, I’d to ask you to try and hear what I have to say

TLDR: Yannick Mirko's speaking out is bringing more attention to ableism in theatre, I added some examples I've seen to emphasize that ableism in the theatre world is really common

Literally I take a break from writing my papers for finals for like 10 minutes and I find out that Arena Stage cast Yannick Mirko’s able-bodied understudy to play Ricky in their production of RtC.

For anyone not caught up, Yannick Mirko is the first disabled person to play Ricky Potts, a canonically disabled character, in the musical Ride The Cyclone. He was unjustly fired from the production he was in (the McCarter atheater) because of their disability. They had one medical emergency and was told that his disability was too unpredictable that he would be replaced by his understudy, who is not disabled.

Now, onto the Arena Stage production. Three of the seven cast members played the roles they are in now in the McCarter Theater production (Jane Doe, Mischa Bachinski, and Noel Gruber). Two are playing their original role from a different production (Constance Blackwood, Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg). One appears to be playing their role for the first time, though I could be wrong on this (The Amazing Karnak). The only cast member of the Arena Stage production who, as far as I can tell, was an understudy for their first production is their Ricky Potts. Ricky is being played by the able bodied understudy who took over the role when Yannick Mirko was fired from the McCarter Theater production. He was also reportedly referred to by his disability aids during the rehearsal process, rather than his name.

This is genuinely disgusting. Theatre is already so discriminatory to disabled people and the McCarter Theater and Arena Stage productions have so far only proved that they can get away with it. Admittedly, I have minimal social media presence so there could be conversations I haven’t seen, but I have seen a maximum of 5 people talk about this.

It’s very much worth noting that most productions I have been in or seen we’re willing to bend over backwards to make sure an able bodied actor could stay onstage. I’ve been in five shows where an understudy was sent out. Three because the actors had Covid and two because the actor was in the hospital and would not be discharged until after the show was over. This may sound like a lot of productions with understudies, but I’ve been in theatre for 11 years. I’ve been in 30 shows. Five shows, especially mid-pandemic, is nothing. I have been in shows where directors have done everything in their power to keep an able bodied actor in a lead role (including many cases of severe illnesses and one with a concussion and staples in his head). I’ve seen an actress onstage while she had broken ribs. I’ve seen a friend perform after slicing her leg and spraining her ankle. Ive seen a different friend come to a three hour rehearsal after spending the morning vomiting. Two different people I know have performed with dislocated joints. I’ve been onstage when I was so sick I couldn’t breathe or speak. I’ve been onstage when my glasses broke and I couldn’t see as far as the people around me. Most actors I know who have left productions only left because they could not physically return or because they were fired for actually valid reasons (skipped nearly half of the rehearsals so they could go on vacation without informing the director).

If these were fine, if I’ve been praised and seen actors praised for doing this, why was Yannick Mirko fired for one medical emergency? Easy answer: Ableism.

One less-than shocking part for me was realizing that I’ve worked with one of the people who was involved in the McCarter production for an awards show. I watched her work with disabled performers in one of the other acts. And, mind you, by “work with,” I mean that she told them their spots and expected them to know where to go. She was absolutely lovely to everyone else (especially leads but I don’t want to get into the treatment of ensemble actors right now, that’ll probably be a different post one day).

I also want to discuss my experiences with ablism in theatre, as someone who has witnessed it and, very recently, started experiencing it (to, admittedly, a significantly lesser degree than many).

The first show I was in with a disabled actor, I was 14. My friend was made to climb multiple set pieces despite her leg not being fully functional. She’d been in a wheelchair for several months at school that year. I didn’t fully realize something was wrong until she started complaining about minor pain to me. She never wanted anyone to go to the director and she never went on her own.

My next is when I was 15. I didn’t realize what was really happening for many years. He had missed several rehearsals with no word to our directors and was made to leave the show. This sounds normal enough, I mentioned someone else who was forced to do the same earlier on. This would be normal if the director hadn’t checked in on and allowed able bodied actors who had done the same thing back into the show. I figured at that point in my life that he’d just missed more shows or assumed that he’d come to the mutual agreement to leave. I don’t have answers, but I’ve started to doubt those beliefs in recent years.

My next show with a disabled actor was when I was still 15. We had one disabled actress, a girl in a wheelchair. The show was set in a high school. She was in onstage twice. The first time, she sat on the side during a group number and sang with us (she was never taught any choreography. The second time, a cast member brought her on, she was crowned prom queen, and then she left the stage and was never seen again until curtain call. Honestly, at the time, I thought it was weird that we were treating her as less capable and not allowing her into any more of the show, but it’s hard to bring that up with anyone. Especially when everyone you try to talk to about it defends the choice. Everyone said that she was less capable or that she’d stick out or that her wheelchair would get in the way. I didn’t feel I could address it, so it was left unsaid. She went to school with me for five years and I never saw her in another production.

It took several years to be in another show with a disabled actor. My school was by all accounts really great about our treatment of disabled people until it came to extracurriculars.

My most recent show that I’m talking about was not technically with a disabled actor, but one who was injured for the entire rehearsal and performance process and was treated similarly from what I could see. It was last year. They were cast in the group that was onstage the least. Nobody in that group was invited to any vocal rehearsals and they were all in one choreography rehearsal. They were also made to stand at the bottom of a set piece on their own because they couldn’t climb it like the rest of their group.

I’d also like to discuss my experiences since finding out that I have a wrist problem that will likely impact me on and off for the rest of my life. For context, I have limited mobility in one of my hands due to a problem with my wrist and thumb. I cannot fully bend my wrist in any direction, nor can I comfortably straighten my thumb all the way or make a fist with the thumb on the inside.

I’d also like to note that I am currently in university taking a creative writing minor, so that sucks because my wrist and thumb do affect my ability to type and write, so it flares up a lot. I also really like to draw and sew for fun and I’ve had to greatly limit my ability to do the things I enjoy. I’ve been in two shows since I went to my doctor because of the pains and four shows since the pain started affecting my abilities to do things.

This first show I was in after my wrist got bad was a very dance heavy production that consisted of two group numbers and a solo or duet for every cast member. The worst part for me was dance warmups, where we were instructed to do many things forced us to put large amounts of pressure on our hands. Primarily different forms of lunges and pushups. I would cry after every day’s warmups. I could barely hold my props.

The next show, I actually worked crew on. I was involved in props, costumes, and makeup, as well as moving sets/props between scenes. I made props with box cutters and scissors I could barely hold. My hands shook so hard when I was trying to melt the edge of a ribbon to keep it from fraying that I dropped a match (thank god I was outside and on pavement). I sewed costumes until I couldn’t do anything for the rest of the day. One of the worst parts was when I hand-sculpted multiple special-effect-makeup prosthetics for one of our actresses. I could hardly hold my makeup brushes or my dummy head that I was sculpting on by the end of every one I made (three sets, for context, every set used two pieces). The other worst was moving sets. I was originally set to move a desk for an office scene that was so heavy that I cried after our first rehearsal and requested to be switched to a new job. I was given a bookshelf that was on wheels. Two of the four wheels were broken and I had to pick up the shelves to get it into the correct position anyway. This show was actually the reason I went to the doctor about the wrist pains.

My next show was actually an improv workshop followed by two performances. I spent the day of the workshop painting for a school activity. I ended up in a wrist brace for the full workshop. I have never seen a group of people so cautious around me, nobody was even willing to touch that arm, which made a certain amount of improv very strange because we were doing a lot of physical stuff with each other. Everyone else was grabbing hands and stuff and they were just awkwardly standing next to me. I ended up taking off my brace for the performances so that I could feel like a part of the show. and hurting myself because I should have been wearing it.

The last show was a recent production where off-and-on through the rehearsal process, I was in the brace. There were many comments made asking about why my wrist was still hurting me, which I assume is a certain amount of ignorance because yes, my wrist still hurts, I haven't been able to move it properly for half a year. However, I was not given a single costume I could wear the brace with and another cast member was instructed to pull my by the arm that was hurt. Luckily, between pain meds and excessively taking care of myself, it didn’t hurt during production week, but I’d still call that some bad treatment.

Basically, theatre sucks for disabled actors. Please, help bring awareness to this. If you’ve seen or experienced ableism, I encourage you to speak out. Yannick Mirko is a wonderful performer and an inspiration to me. He’s been through so much. Also, I’m not fond of cursing, but fuck McCarter Theater and fuck Arena Stage. Cast disabled actors as disabled characters and don’t replace them with an able-bodied understudy.

#ride the cyclone #RtC #mccarter theatre #rtc mccarter #arena stage #RtC arena stage #ableism #tw abelism

[writingdotcoffee]

Rebuilding My Writing Habit

I burned out this summer. Luckily, it wasn't one of those life-changing burnouts where I'd have to change careers. But it was significant enough that I couldn't focus and barely got anything done. This time, using more force didn't help. I had to take an unscheduled writing break.

The summer months are the most productive for me. In 2020, I wrote about 70,000 words. In 2021, it was 68,000 words. This year, it was only about 8,000 words (or 11% of my usual output). You can see the drop for yourself:

Here's the corresponding time chart (about 85 hours in summer 2020, 66 hours in 2021 and 8 hours in 2022):

Thankfully, my burnout improved early in October. I regained my ability to focus. And I was able to get excited about writing again — a feeling that I missed dearly. I'm grateful to be back. I love writing, and not being able to do it was weird.

Starting Over

Unfortunately, not writing much for months killed my writing habit. I no longer feel the pull to write every day. I have to build it up again.

Incidentally, I've had my writing routines combust many times before. Early on, I thought this was a sign that I didn't have what it takes to write.

If I can't write at least 500 words every day, what's the point? That's what Hemingway did, didn't he?

For some reason, I kept trying. I even built a writing app that helps writers create a writing habit (talk about procrastination).

Things are not what they seem

I've been tracking my writing with Writing Analytics for over two years now. One thing that I learned from the data is that your immediate failures overshadow almost any past accomplishments. You may be pumping words out like a firehose for months. Then you skip a day and feel like everything is over.

I was struggling with a project once, feeling like an abject failure. Then I looked at the charts, and the numbers were huge. I wrote something like 150,000 words over the past year. That genuinely surprised me.

I may not be the most productive writer in the universe, but hey, 150,000 words aren't anything to sneeze at.

I realised that the value of tracking your writing isn't only in the immediate accountability of it. Far greater value is in being able to look at the data when things aren't going well.

You'll see that you were productive before, and you'll be productive again. That's why I'm far more relaxed about my current situation than I would've been in the past.

Here's My Plan

Here's what I'm planning to do to rebuild my writing routine.

1: No Word Goals

I won't be setting any goals for now. At this stage, building a habit is the goal. It doesn't matter how many words I'll write now. If I can create a strong habit now, I will write more later.

Setting too ambitious goals early on is one of the most common reasons why people quit. Writing 500 words a day is a noble goal, but if you're not ready for it, you'll give up.

It's like running. If you haven't trained for years and start running 10 miles every day, it'll be over pretty soon.

2: Build a Streak

Over the first few weeks, I want to write for at least 15 minutes per day. Whether I write five words or 500, it's a success. My main priority is not skipping days. That's how you build a habit.

If I miss a day (it happens), I'll use James Clear's rule of doing whatever is in my power to write the next day. Missing a day is a mistake; missing two days in a row is the beginning of a new habit.

Writing Analytics has a built-in streaks calendar that does this automatically. To be honest, I also miss receiving one of the streak awards. Ah, the joys of instant gratification!

3: Write Wherever I can

The traditional "sitting down to write" hasn't worked for me for years. I write on the train, when I'm queuing for something or when I have a moment during my lunch break.

Sure, I do a lot of writing from my desk at home too, but there's only so much you can do at 10.30 p.m. after a frantic day.

Geting five or ten minutes of writing in wherever I can is absolutely essential for this to happen.

It's also the reason why I made Writing Analytics mobile-friendly. It syncs your work immediately, so it's ready on your other devices right away. This used to drive me insane with the previous editor I used. Sometimes, it took ages for the cloud sync algorithm to figure it out. In some cases, I had to reboot my laptop to trigger it. Not ideal to be sitting around for 20 minutes while your app syncs the last three paragraphs of your draft.

4: Stay Accountable

Quitting is far easier when nobody's watching. I plan to use two ways to keep myself accountable.

Word Tracking

In the first instance, I'll keep myself accountable by tracking how much I write. Writing Analytics does this for me — it's almost as if I built the app myself 😅.

As I said earlier — when you're in the trenches, your perception of how well you're doing can become skewed. Tracking your writing removes any doubts.

External Accountability

Sometimes, self-accountability isn't enough. There's a reason why people excel at work or school but struggle to get anywhere with their personal projects.

I've always done my best work from the coffee shop or library. Being around people who work makes me want to keep going.

That's why I built Challenges into Writing Analytics. It's a way to work alongside other writers. You can see their progress, and they can see yours. It's like sitting in the library, but the library is right inside your word processor.

You can join a challenge from your phone too. I'm so excited about this feature, and I'll be using it every day to get my writing habit back on track.

Final thoughts

Losing my writing habit used to terrify me. I did a lot of unhealthy stuff just to keep hitting arbitrary daily goals that were unrealistic for me at the time. I did this because I didn't see the big picture, and it caused a lot more damage than I realised.

Creativity comes and goes. You ride the wave for as long as you can. Then you have to find a new one. Sometimes, the best thing to do is to let go and start over.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Radek 👋. I’m a writer, software engineer and the founder of Writing Analytics — an editor and writing tracker designed to help you beat writer’s block and create a sustainable writing routine.

I publish a post like this every week. Want to know when the next one comes out? Sign up for my email list below to get it right in your inbox.

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Past Editions

#250: I Burned Out, October 2022

#249: Finish More Things, July 2022

#248: Serious Procrastination, June 2022

#247: Learning How to Fail, June 2022

#246: Your Art Is Like a Journal Entry, May 2022

#writing #writers #write #writing tips #writing advice #amwriting #writing life #writeblr #writing update #personal update #me #writing analytics

[woniebunny]

JARED CAMERON x Y/N ONESHOT

A/N: Hey guys!! It’s been a hottt minute since I posted anything. I’ve genuinely been so busy with work and uni and lots of moving 😅. Life has just been a lot and finding time to write was kinda tricky but hopefully going forward I’ll be a little better at it. I did have one user ask about me potentially writing something separate about Jared and his imprint and I actually really liked the idea and finally got around to it so hopefully you guys enjoy it!

3 weeks. 3 weeks is how long it’s been since I’ve avoided you. 3 weeks of trying to ignore how much I miss our conversations or your laugh or even just your presence. 3 weeks of pretending Im okay and feeling guilty for not being able to be honest because how do I tell the most important person in my life that I’m falling for the one person they want a chance with more than anybody else. 3 weeks of feeling like the worst best friend in the history of best friends. *Ring ring ring* and there goes the last bell signaling the end of the school day and effectively bringing me out of my thoughts. I gather and pack up all my things and start heading out the door to meet Kim as per our usual routine of walking home together. As I go to put my things in my locker I can hear someone stopping next to me. “Hey would you wanna go get ice cream on our way home?” I start asking Kim as I shut my locker only to turn and come face to face with the last person I wanted to see at the moment. Jared Cameron. “Sorry I thought you were Kim, what’s up?” He doesn’t respond for a minute or two, just continues staring at me. “Cameron?” Looks like he snapped out of whatever trance he was in. “Sorry, I was just wondering if I did something wrong or if you’re mad at me?” “Huh? No Im not, why would you ask that?” “Well I haven’t really seen or heard much from you the past weeks so I guess I was just curious” “oh guess I’ve just been busy and we haven’t really been partnered recently, but I’m not mad.” “Oh okay… cool” as he starts nodding his head and awkwardly giving me a thumbs up, it almost makes me wanna laugh as I feel my lips fighting to lift. “In that case I was wondering if…” “Y/N!!!” He pauses and I whip my head around hearing Kim yelling to me as she runs up. “Im so so sorry I got held back a few mins cause some kids were blocking the door but I’m ready if you wanna start heading home and… oh hi Jared I didn’t see you there” Kim says as I see her slyly giving me a questioning look. “Hey Kim, I was just asking her a question about history class. Hope you guys get home safe.” “Thanks! Let’s go Y/N!!” She replies as she grabs my arm and starts running to head home. I can feel him watching us as we leave but I keep my focus on Kim. It’s about a 10 minute walk, 15 since we stopped for ice cream along the way, before we reach Kim’s house and she invites me in. “Oh Y/N honey how are you? How are your parents?” Asks Ms.Connweller as we’re passing through to get to her room. “We’re good Ms. Connweller thank you for asking” “that’s good to hear, well dinner should be done in about 20 minutes if you don’t mind staying, you know we love having you over” “that sounds great Ms.Connweller thank you” “of course dear, now why don’t you girls go relax in the meantime” and that was our signal to head to Kim’s room. Soooooooo my precious Y/N, do you wanna tell me what that was about?” “Pardon? What’s what about?” “Jared Cameron talking to you by your lucky, which I’m so sorry for interrupting by the way I didn’t mean to” “no no it’s okay, like he said he was just asking about class.” “Hmmmm” “what do you mean hmmmm?” “I think he was gonna ask you out” she giggles. What. “What do you mean?” “Girl did you not notice how he was staring at you when I took you away, not to mention he was in the middle of talking to you, and it’s not like you genuinely talk to anybody beside Embry and I… so yeah all clues are pointing to him asking you out! Oooooohh this is so exciting, I’ve never seen you go on a date it’d be so fun to dress you up!” What. The. Hell?? “You’d want me to say yes to Cameron? Seriously Kim?” I ask staring at her like she’s crazy. Isn’t she in love with him? Is this a trick?? Why would she be happy? “Well I mean if he asks you then yeah! It’s about time you get a boyfriend and he looks like he’s genuinely into you which a green card in my books” “wait but aren’t you into him Kim? Wouldn’t that be wrong..?” “Huh? Girl I just thought he was cute like major eye candy like Embry for example but I’m not actually into him haha” she starts laughing.

“Wait did you think I was genuinely in love with him?” “Uhh.. yes?” I answered more like a question unsure of what’s happening. “Lmaooo girl nooo eye candy haha he’s all yours if you want him. Besides I’m talking to Axel at the moment I thought you knew?” Oh. My. God. “Oh” “wait, is that why you’ve been avoiding him since your guys group project? Awwww you’re such a sweet best friend but seriously if you don’t get with that boy I will slap you cause he’s very obviously in love with you” “I was cause I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship and mess things up” “and I appreciate that and guarantee it won’t even if I did like him like that you should know I’d never make you choose. You’re my sister Y/N forever and always and I love you and support you no matter what. So please please please do me the big favor of getting with him” “hahaha okay Kim, I love you too, forever and always” “Girls dinner is ready!” Ms.Connweller yells from downstairs. “I’m glad we had this talk now idk about you but I’m starving, let’s go eat!”

The next day at school as I’m standing by my locker again I feel someone stop next to me. Now knowing that Kim was 100% okay with anything happening between Jared and I, I feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. Maybe that’s why I don’t hesitate to close my locker and immediately turn “Hey Jared, what’s up?” “Hey Y/N, I know this is kinda random but we got interrupted yesterday and I was just wondering if maybe you know you would like to go out with me?” He rambles really quick and closes his eyes and turns his head like he’s waiting for me to yell at him. “Like a date?” “Huh? Oh yeah, uh like a uh date? If that’s okay?” “Okay” “Wait okay? Like okay yes?” “Yes Cameron lol okay yes. I’d love to go on a date with you” he starts smiling and practically bouncing in place “oh oh my god, I, wow, oh you actually said yes I am so happy I promise I will make it the best date ever okay I will see you later!” He goes to leave but I stop him “hey Cameron, don’t you kinda need my number to tell me when and what time the date is and to find out where to pick me up?” “Oh yeah, sorry I got excited” as he sheepishly scratches the nape of his neck and handed me his phone. After putting in my number and watching him excitedly leave almost tripping over another student when he turns to wave at me one last time, I don’t stop myself from letting out a laugh and smiling this time. I just know he’s going to make me the happiest girl in the world and the best part is I didn’t even have to go looking for him. I guess I have the moon goddess to thank for that.

#twilight #wolfpack #wolfpack x reader #jared cameron #uley pack #twilight x you #twilight x reader

[bonesandthebees]

Alright Askers, grab your weapons we’re going out to hunt! (/j don’t actually go looking for the comment).

No but seriously that’s unbelievably rude and clearly written by someone who has never written anything in there life, let alone something as good or as long as your fics because when you’ve gone through the effort of writing something like that you don’t just go and point out ‘flaws’ in other people’s work (and really it’s just their opinion because a lot of your works have bittersweet endings, which is what makes them good in my opinion but it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, especially for fan fiction). If they can think of a (subjective) ‘better’ ending, that can go and write their own damn story.

Anyway, I always like the endings to your fics, long or short, a lot of the Askers here do too. That’s why we always come scream at you. Don’t let one person with bad ao3 etiquette ruin your day.

P.s. I still need to read the QSMP hunger games thingy and I’m so excited, but I just straight up haven’t had the time yet. Also, I’ve seen the movie and it was good, but the book has been laying on my shelf for at least two months and I feel like it’s giving me a side eye every time I walk past.

P.s.s It snowed here on Wednesday. Like decent snow for once. And now the entire public transport system is struggling because most of it has yet to melt because of the cold. (This never happened it feels like it’s been at least 5 years since we’ve had snow this decent.)

-🌲

yeah I mean more than anything my issue with the comment was just that they decided to put it in my comments. like, you can have whatever opinion on my stories you want to have. but if you disliked it that much, go talk about it with your friends. don't put it in my comments where I'll literally get an email notif for it.

but thank you spruce I can always count on you guys to reassure me about things like this <3

and don't worry it didn't ruin my day. it just pissed me off for about 10 minutes which is when I made that post (which has now, uh, breached containment a little bit I think. oops.) I understand that this fanbase is young, and many of them genuinely haven't learned ao3 etiquette yet. not everyone is constantly on tumblr or twitter and knows what's going on on the author side. the commenter seemed to genuinely think I wouldn't see the comment, which makes me want to give them the benefit of the doubt that if they knew I would literally get an email with that comment in it, they wouldn't have said that. of course I don't know that for sure, but that's what I'm choosing to believe for now.

ooooo whenever you read my fic lmk I had a lot of fun coming up with the story and everything for it :) also you should definitely read tbosas book. I finished it last week and it's SO good. I really enjoyed the movie, but I enjoyed the book even more. it gives you so much insight to be able to hear coriolanus' internal monologue at all times

YAY FOR SNOW!! NOT YAY FOR STRUGGLING WITH PUBLIC TRANSPORT :( hope things get fixed with that soon!

#ask #spruce anon

[yamadadzawa]

friendly reminder that fanfiction is shared with you but it is not written for you and telling an author you want more and pointing out how long it’s been since something updated is not helpful :)))

#also don’t. tell me it’s been over a year. it’s been 8 months #I’m well aware of that bc I also want more of my stories. I want nothing more than to be able to write right now #but genuinely I haven’t been able to write for more than 10 minutes at a time since October #I try and I cannot stay focused. I lose interest and get restless and start feeling distressed #which generally means that writing isn’t fun like it’s supposed to be #it’s upsetting enough to be feeling this way having someone ask if my story is abandoned and pointing out (incorrectly!) how long it’s been #since I updated is just. even more upsetting. like I need people who comment like that to understand #that those comments won’t get you more content. they will add more weight to the ‘is this even worth it anymore’ pile #and no one wants that #I realize the intention of the comment was probably not malicious but I’m spending my evening feeling really not great now! #so I’m allowed to be upset regardless of the intentions! #I’m doing this instead of replying and being meaner than I’d want to

[tom-holland-parker]

The Moment I Knew

Summary: All you asked for was one day to spend with your boyfriend and family, but Peter has let him role as Spiderman take over his life

Pairing: Peter parker x Stark!reader

Warning: maybe a curse word towards the end but other than that nothing 

Word count: 1520

Masterlist

Note: I'm starting to notice that the only time I can actually sit down and write things I’m happy about is when I’m writing stories inspired about Taylor Swift songs. Anyway this is based off her song The moment I knew (which funny enough is about Jake Gyllenhaal). Anyway send me a song and I’ll write a oneshot about it. Part two Here

You clutched the red plastic cup in anticipation watching as more and more people walked through the door. Everyone’s laughter filled the room and even though you tried your hardest, you couldn’t hide the disappointment every time someone other than your boyfriend walked through the door. You sighed turning your attention back to the conversation you were having with Bruce, ‘Happy birthday kid” He pulled you into a hug, “Gosh I can still remember when you were 5 years old stealing my lab goggles” 

“They looked really cool” you let out a fake laugh, hiding the sadness building inside you. “How are you though? Is school treating you good?” he asked as he sipped his soda. 

You nodded, “School’s great I just can’t wait to graduate”

“That’s great” he smiled before looking at his phone, “Your dads calling me, but we’ll catch up later”. You nodded watching as he walked away, leaving you alone to think. You sighed putting your cup on the table before grabbing your phone to check the time, 8:54. You rolled your eyes when you realized there had been no text for Peter. Your mind wandered to the conversation you had with him earlier that day. 

“Happy birthday babe” Peter smiled while pulling you in for a kiss. 

You pulled away chuckling, “Thank you”, you grabbed his hand as you began walking to your homeroom, “Don’t forget the party starts at 5, you can still come right?”

You bit your lip nervously, for the past few months Peter had been so flaky. He’d forgotten about multiple dates and hardly ever spent time with you. It bothered you but you never bought it up out of fear that you’d upset him.

He nodded his head and smiled, “Don’t worry I’ll be there” 

You sighed, looking up at the fairy lights that covered the ceilings. “Maybe he’s just running late” You whispered to yourself. You shook your head trying to stop thinking. “What’s wrong pumpkin?” You heard Wanda’s concerned voice from behind you. You took a deep breath, “Nothing wrong, just really tired. Do you think dad will let us cut the cake early?” 

“Absolutely not” Your father’s voice boomed from next to you, “It’s tradition that you cut your cake at the exact time you were born” 

“Oh come on Tony” Wanda argued, “the girl’s finally 18 let her have her cake early this time”. Your father shook his head, “nope the cake will be cut at 10:17 like it is every year”

Wanda shrugged, giving you an apologetic look before walking away. “Where’s Peter?” Your father looked around the room, “I haven’t seen him all night”. You sighed, “Running late I think”, you glanced at the door quickly before looking back, “you know he has Spider watch” 

Your father shook his head, “I gave him the night off”. Your face dropped, a lump of sadness growing in your throat, “Oh” you whispered, wanting nothing more than to be alone right now, “I have to use the bathroom” 

You walked away quickly locking the door once you reached the bathroom. Staring at yourself in the mirror as tears began to roll down your face. You were only in there for a minute when you heard loud knocking, “Y/n I know you’re in there” you heard MJ’s voice through the door, “Come on open up its just me and Ned”

You swallowed back the tears and you wiped your face, slowly opening the door. “Hey what’s wrong” Ned asked in a concerned tone. 

You sighed, sitting down on the floor as your friends walked into the bathroom. “He said he’d be here” You said hopelessly as more tears trickled down your cheeks landing on your black party dress. MJ and Ned glanced awkwardly at each other before looking at you again, no doubt taking pity on you and your sadness. “He’s probably just running late” MJ said trying to make it sound believable, they both sat on the floor next to you. Ned sighed wrapping his arms around you, “Don’t worry I’m sure he’s out getting you the biggest gift ever” 

You stared at your hands, not having the energy to look up. You didn’t care whether or not you got a gift, you just wanted to spend the night with Peter and your family and friends. Peter meant the most to you and it’s slowly killing you knowing he couldn’t bother to spend time with you on your birthday. Time seemed to move in slow motion as you sat there wrapped in your friends arms.

You glanced at Ned’s watch realizing you had been in the bathroom for nearly an hour. You wiped your eyes as everyone piled out the room. You glanced around, your heart swelling with pain when you didn’t see the brown hair that belonged to Peter.

“there’s the birthday girl” Steve shouted, “Come on it’s almost time for cake”. He grabbed your hand as everyone walked to the kitchen. You smiled as you watched your father pull the large cake out the fridge, happy at how good it looked, “Where’s the candles?” 

“Right here” Thor passed them to Tony as you walked towards the cake. Your father placed the candles on the two layers before lighting them. “Alright on the count of three everybody sing” he shouted pulling out his phone to record, “1...2...3”

“Happy birthday to you..” you watched as your friends and family began singing. For the first time the whole night you had a genuine smile on your face as you looked around at all the people you loved. It didn’t last long once you remembered that the one person you truly wanted there was the one who didn’t show.  You fought back the tears as you blew out the candles. 

Once the party ended and everyone went home you sat in the kitchen picking at your third slice of cake. “Alright talk to me kid?” Tony sighed, taking a fork and stealing some of your cake. You shrugged, “Peter never showed”

He let out a deep breath, “Oh boyfriend troubles”. You nodded awkwardly, “Don’t worry dad I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it” You grabbed your plate and began walking out the kitchen. “I’ll figure it out”

“Wait” he gently grabbed your elbow, stopping you from leaving, “listen I like Peter, he’s a good superhero but I love my daughter so please don’t stay with him if he isn’t treating you right”. 

You groaned, “promise me if we break up, you’ll still treat him the same. I don’t want the ruin his future as Spiderman”

He nodded letting go of your arm to let you walk away. When you got to your room you threw yourself on your bed trying to get all your thoughts in order. A few minutes later you heard a small knock on your window. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. “Go away Peter” You shouted

“Babe please let me explain” He begged. You shook your head, closing your curtains. “I’ll wait here all night,” He said, “you can’t ignore me forever”. You sighed waiting a few minutes to test his bluff, “You have two minutes” You said, opening your window to let him in. He ripped off his mask, moving the hair from his eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it” he reached out to caress your face but you moved before he got the chance to touch you, “I just got held up” 

“You had the night off” You yelled, crossing your arms as you stood up straight. He sighed, “I know I know” He looked down, fumbling with his mask, “I just thought maybe I could do a quick check around the neighborhood and then I’d make my way over here but I got caught up” 

“Are you fucking kidding me” You clenched your fist, resisting the urge to punch him. 

“But babe it’s just-” 

“Were there any emergencies?” You asked in a harsh tone, tapping your foot on the ground as you waited for his answer. 

“Babe-” he whispered, looking down, not being able to look you in the eye. “Were there any emergencies tonight?” You shouted. He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. His silence was the only answer you needed. You sighed pointing towards to window, “I can’t do this anymore Peter”

“Wait no y/n don’t act like that” He gave you a pleading look. You shook your head, “no I’ve let you blow me off for months. All I asked for was one day, MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY and you couldn’t even do that” 

You shoved him roughly, needing to let out your anger. He knew you were going to hit him but he didn’t block it. He knew he deserved it. “Get out” You shouted as tears began to fall down your face. He sighed climbing out the window. He stuck to the side of the tower, looking back at you, “I’m sorry”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, “I’m sorry too” you whispered as you shut the window and closed the curtains

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland angst #tom holland au #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland oneshot #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker angst #peter parker blurb

[haikyuuthots]

can i get a Tsukishima Kei X reader hurt/comfort fic? ty! love ur works sm :)

Hurt feelings - Tsukishima Kei

Pairing: reader x Tsukishima Kei

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: curse words, some arguing, but there’s fluff at the end!!!

Synopsis: You’re his person, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt your feelings.

A/n: thank u for requesting babe & thank u for liking my stuff, means so much to me!! Tsukishima is my main boo, I always love writing for him 😌. I hope you like this 💕

Masterlist

—————————————————————————

You weren’t trying to be clingy, that’s the last thing you’d ever want to be, but it feels like you haven’t seen your boyfriend in weeks, which is weird because you guys literally live together.

Tsukishima, just started working at a museum, and you worked as a barista in a small cafe. Lately, you haven’t been able to see him much, because you worked mornings and he worked afternoons. So whenever you were coming out he was barely going in, meaning that you’d only have a brief greeting. It’s weird how much you’ve missed him, even though he wasn’t really gone.

Finally today, you both had your day off from work, but Tsukishima has been stuck all day in his desk doing homework/late work he hasn’t finished, he was still very new at trying to juggle schoolwork and real work.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit frustrated, you want to be near him and hang out with him, because it feels like you haven’t had a real conversation with him in forever.

You peek over your shoulder for what felt like the 100th time today. Your boyfriend is still in his seat, with a stressed expression on his face while he continues to scribble down information. You contemplate whether or not you should try to convince him to take a break. You knew how agitated Tsukishima could get whenever he was stressed like this, and the last thing you wanted to do was bother him any further.

After thinking about it for a minute you finally decide to talk to him, in attempts of trying to help him relax. You walk over to his desk, and you’re now standing behind him.

Tsukishima feels your presence but decides to ignore you, not wanting to engage in any conversation until he was done doing this work. You lightly place your hand on his neck,

“Baby” you coo.

“Hmm?” He hums out. His eyes never leaving the paper

You gently wrap your arms around him, and place your chin on his shoulder “you need a break.” You quietly say

“Y/n. Not now.” Tsukishima, lightly takes you off of him, pushing you to the side a bit.

You’re a bit hurt from his actions, you knew he was stressed, but could it hurt him to at least feign interest?

“Tsukishima. You’ve been at it for hours, just take a small break. we can eat, you haven’t eaten all day.” You say, your voice sounding a bit more frustrated than before

Tsukishima slams his pencil on the desk “god dammit y/n I said not now!” He briefly yells out

You’re taken aback by his tone. You were looking out for him, so why was he yelling at you for that? Quickly your attitude changes from a caring girlfriend to an upset one

“Why are you yelling at me?? I’m looking out for you! God dammit we haven’t had alone time in weeks and now that we finally do, you can’t even sit down with me for 5 fucking minutes for one meal!”

Tsukishima turns around, and is now facing you, “this is what it’s about? You’re fucking lonely?” He lets out a sarcastic laugh “you’re so annoying. I have a shitload of work to do, and you’re bothering me with this bullshit?”

His words sting you, you’d expect he’d miss you as much as you missed him, but hearing his mocking tone, hurt your feelings

“Stop it Tsukishima. You’re being mean.” You try your best to hold back tears

“Oh my god.” He rubs his hands against his face “are you really doing this right now?” He’s looking up at you, with an unamused face “fuck, I don’t have time for this. Go cry about it somewhere else, I don’t care.”

You couldn’t believe how incredibly rude he was being. Of course you knew Tsukishima and you knew how mean he could be, but he’s never once dismissed your feelings. Any time you’d tell him, he was being too mean he’d always apologize and hold back, but now he was doing the complete opposite.

“You’re a fucking asshole!!” You yell out, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind you.

You’re beyond hurt with his behavior, you didn’t even want to be under the same roof as him. Quickly you head over to get your car keys grabbing your nearest sweater, you make your way out the front door.

Tsukishima’s body jolts up the second he hears the front door close. In an instant, he makes his way to the living room, when he notices that you’ve left he quickly runs after you. Unfortunately you were already in the car, and even though he tried to stop you from driving off, you did anyway.

“FUCK!” He yells out, as he slowly loses sight of you

You’re doing your best not to cry as you drive away, noticing Tsukishima’s standing body get smaller the further you go.

You had no idea where you were headed, all you knew was you needed space, because the anger you felt towards him at the moment was something you never wanted to feel.

Tsukishima quickly runs into the house, instantly grabbing his phone to dial your number. The first two times it goes directly to voicemail, but you finally pick up the third.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” He yells out, you can hear the desperation in his voice, but you were too upset to care

“You told me to go cry about it somewhere else right? So don’t fucking worry bout it. It’s none of your concern.” And with that you hang up.

“FUCK” Tsukishima angrily throws his phone across the room, “ARE YOU FICKING KIDDING ME?” He smacks his hand on the kitchen counter, trying to release the built up frustration.

Resting his elbows on the counter, he buries his hands in his face “I fucked up.” He whispers to himself, in absolute regret

He didn’t want to hurt your feelings, he didn’t mean anything he said. He missed you, of course he did, but juggling work and school, was tearing him up, unknowingly the change in routine was making him bitter, but he knew you had nothing to do with it. He hated himself, for hurting the only person that brought him peace.

He walks over to pick up his phone, and he begins typing on the now slightly cracked screen

“I’m so fucking sorry. Please come back whenever you’re ready. I don’t deserve you, and I know that but I love you. I love you so much, i don’t want you to go. Please, just come back y/n. I’ll be waiting for you.”

2 hours later, Tsukishima finally hears the front door open, and he instantly runs to it.

You walk in, your eyes a bit swollen , and your face a little red

Tsukishimas heart breaks at the sight, feeling angry at himself knowing that he’s the reason you look like that.

He quickly runs over to you, engulfing you in a tight hug. You don’t reciprocate.

“Baby.” He breathes out, still squeezing you. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m such an asshole.” He continues speaking “you deserve so much better, someone who won’t hurt you the way I did.”

He’s trying his best to choke back tears, his voice cracking a bit “but I love you. I love you so much, I let out my frustrations on you and you didn’t deserve it, but please, don’t leave me.”

You finally wrap your arms, around him as you let small tears fall form your face. “Tsukki- it’s ok-“

“No” he cuts you off, “it’s not okay, it’ll never be okay. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

You’re finally looking up at him, and you place your hand on his cheek “you’re right. it wasn’t okay, but you know that and that’s important.”

He leans his forehead on yours, “can I kiss you?” You nod your head yes and seeing that, Tsukishima connects, his lips to yours. The kiss was full of love, and passion. In a swift move he picks you and you wrap your legs around his waist. Walking you over the couch he sits you on his lap and he briefly pulls away.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says as he stares lovingly into your eyes “of course I missed you. You’re the only person I look forward to seeing every day.”

You lightly smile at his words as he continues speaking

“I hate not spending time with you.”

You once again lean your forehead on his as you lightly caress his face, looking into his eyes you respond “do me a favor, if you ever feel overwhelmed please just tell me, so we never have to fight like this again.”

“I promise.”

With that you kiss him again, wrapping your arms around his neck.

As you two pull away, Tsukishima breaks the subtle silence. “So what does my pretty girl want to do? I’m here for you all day, fuck that extra work.”

You smile brightly “I just want to be with you Kei, doesn’t matter where.”

“I know where we can go.”

You look up at him an amused expression on your face “you do? Where?”

“You’ll know when we get there.”

You both change into different clothes, and get ready to drive out. It was only a 10 minute drive from your house. When you arrive, your heart flutters the second you recognize the area.

You both were standing in the middle of a field in the park. The sky was filled with stars and the pond next you was sparkling.

You look up at Tsukishima, smiling

“Is this-“

���Where we had our first kiss?” He cuts you off “yeah.”

You look around as you’re reminded of the special memory.

“This place is special to me, because I was with you.”

“Kei.” Your heart flutters at his words, he was never one to explicitly express how he was feeling, so listening to him made you feel happy.

“I just want you to know, that no matter what I say or do, or don’t say or do. You matter to me.” He’s not looking at you as he speaks, but you just know every word he said is genuine.

“I love you Kei.”

Tsukishima finally looks down at you, leaning his face closer to your he speaks

“I love you too.”

Now kissing him under the stars, in the same place you first realized you truly loved him, you can easily say that even though you fight and disagree, he was your person, your soulmate, there was no doubt about it.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu blog #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu! x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu boys #haikyuu x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima angst #tsukishima kei #tsukishima haikyuu #haikyuu blurb #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff

[weasleylangs]

crossed wires - g.w

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, Platonic Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: George has always felt second best to Fred. He’s never blamed Fred, of course, but the jealousy is getting to be too much when he’s convinced the girl of his dreams is in love with his twin.  Warnings: Miscommunication, jealousy, swearing Word Count: 3k

A/N: Oh look it’s Fae who can’t go three fics without writing friends to lovers with miscommunication wah. I combined two requests I got so I hope both of the anons enjoy it!! Also thank you to the lovely Zahra who once again helped me with a title <3

taglist: @amourtentiaa @whizboingies @harrysweasleys @lumos-barnes @weelittleweasley @freds-slut @starlightweasley @weasleyclaw @spacexcowgirl @lumosandnoxwriting​ @peroxide-prinxcesss (sorry your tag isnt working D:)

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It was a nice, warm spring day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and as usual, George finds Y/N sitting by the lake with a muggle book in her hand. Her usual weekend plan was simple, all she ever wanted to do was read, catching up on the story she’d left behind the weekend before.

It was one of the things George loved about her, that she was always able to sneak a book in somewhere and lose herself in the pages no matter what chaos was going on at the time. He stood a bit behind her, admiring her for a brief moment. Her hair was pulled up into space buns, loose pieces of hair falling and framing her face as she shook her head to move them out of her sight. She was curled up on a blanket she’d dragged down from Gryffindor tower and she was leaning against the tree right at the shore of the lake.

“Oi, Y/L/N!” George yelled and while he immediately regretted disturbing her, the cute look on her face she gave him for interrupting it made his heart swoon. “What do you want, Weasley?” 

She squints as if she’s trying to work out which twin is standing there but they both know she hasn’t mixed the twins up since she was 12. “Wanted your attention, as always.” He winks and Y/N hides behind her book in hopes he doesn’t see the shy look that overtakes her face. They’ve been friends for seven years, but George’s relentless and joke flirting never fails to make her face warm.

“Have you heard about Lee and Alicia?” George says, sitting down next to the girl and Y/N sighs, accepting she isn’t going to get any further into her book right now. “Did Alicia reject him?” The boy shakes his head as he chuckles. 

“Quite the opposite really. Thought she was going to cry of happiness when he’d asked her to Hogsmeade today.”

Y/N ponders his words. Lee and Alicia have always been a hard pair to pinpoint. One second they were flirting and annoying everyone with their public displays of affection and the next they were fighting over something stupid. “Hopefully this stops them bickering over my bacon and eggs in the morning,” Y/N mutters as she closes her book. 

She’s acutely aware that everyone in their year is starting to seriously pair up. Fred and Angelina had gone to the Yule Ball together the year before, she knows for a fact Roger Davis plans on asking Patricia Stimpson out sometime this week and with Lee and Alicia seemingly confirming their relationship she gets uneasy. 

“How do people do it?” She asks no one in particular, “I’m so scared of rejection I could never just ask someone out.” George knows how she feels, after all, he’s been wanting to ask out the girl in front of him for weeks, months maybe even years at this point. But he’s always been convinced no one sees him outside of the duo that is Fred and George, nothing more than a star quidditch player alongside his brother, a pranking prodigy alongside his brother.

“I don’t know, I barely mustered up the courage to ask you to the Yule Ball last year,” they both chuckle at the memory of George stumbling over his words as he asked Y/N to the ball ‘as a friend’, although George never admitted it to anyone, he so desperately wanted it to be more than friends. 

“I want to tell the boy I like that I like him but…” She trails off and George wonders why she’s being so coy. “I don’t know how to go about it.”

George thinks for a moment, thoroughly convinced Y/N is asking him because he’s positive she’s been crushing on Fred since their fifth year. 

“Well…” He pauses. Or should he tell her how Fred would like to be confessed to? “Something extravagant, of course. A grand gesture,” he laughs awkwardly and he knows Y/N isn’t fully convinced by the way she looks at him but she hums in agreement nonetheless. 

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a grand gesture romance kind of boy, Georgie…” She trails off and George resists the urge to tell her he actually told her how Fred would like to be confessed too, but before he knows it, she’s standing. “I have to go meet Angie, I’ll see you late George.”

-

George has been sulking all day at this point that not even a prank on Filch can get him to smile. Fred and Lee have been pestering him all day to ‘fess up what’s bothering him but he refuses to budge. He knows that if he even hints at what’s bothering him, Fred will reject Y/N and while he wants nothing more than to be the one she confesses to, he doesn’t wish the embarrassment of rejection on her.

“I think Georgie’s got girl problems,” Lee says, nudging Fred and puckering his lips as if to kiss him. Fred laughs and shoves Lee away, teasing him with a threat to tell Alicia he’s moving onto a Weasley brother but stops when he realises George isn’t laughing alongside them. “Wait, is it a girl problem, Georgie?” 

George can’t meet Fred’s eye for the first time in his life, but he knows he can never keep anything from his twin flame. “Yeah, it is.” The boys beside him whoop and holler, teasingly saying Georgie’s got a crush before they sit down on the couch in front of him. “What’s wrong, then? She rejected you?” 

George sighs, “No, no… I’m just positive she likes someone else.” Lee scoffs at this. “As if, you’re George Weasley, mate.” George laughs at Lee’s comment, knowing Lee is being completely honest. 

“Well, even if I am George Weasley, I’m just pretty sure she likes a different Weasley,” George says, not being able to meet Fred’s eye. George, admittedly, has no reasoning for believing Y/N likes Fred, it’s just always been the case. He’s never blamed Fred for this though, Fred has always just been the more noticed twin due to the fact he’s more exuberant and honestly, it never bothered him. 

Until now. 

- 

It’s two days later when Y/N drags Fred by his robes into an empty corridor. George hasn’t even looked in Y/N’s direction since their talk about crushes and she’s starting to get fed up, and what better place to get insider information than from his twin brother who doubles as his best friend.

“Geeze, woman, what is your problem?” Fred asks, fixing his robes that have now fallen off his shoulders. “What’s going on with George?” she demands.

Fred looks at her confused, having not noticed anything different going on with George beside his obvious sulking over a girl but he knows better than to mention anything like that to Y/N. Unlike George, Y/N was very happy to spill the beans regarding her raging crush on George to his twin brother and Fred’s been subtly trying to get them together ever since. When he asked Angelina to the ball last year, he purposely did it in front of both George and Y/N in hopes to inspire George to ask her to the ball himself and he can only hope that Lee and Alicia finally making it official could serve as some inspiration for his oblivious best friends. 

But now George has a crush on a girl, and while Fred hopes with everything he has that it’s on Y/N but he can’t be sure. 

“I haven’t noticed anything wrong with George,” Fred says, hoping Y/N doesn’t pick up on the lie. “We’ve been working on shop business, maybe he’s just busy?” 

Y/N pouts at this, wondering what she’d done for George to only act weird around herself. She plays with the ends of the sleeves of her robe as she thinks back to their last conversation, “I think I made him uncomfortable.” 

Fred cocks his head in confusion. George’s best friend beside himself and Lee has always been Y/N, and Fred thinks there’s not a thing in the world she could do that would make George upset, but before he can question her, she speaks again. “I mentioned I wanted to tell the boy I like that I like him but I think… I think maybe he realised I liked him and he’s backing away so my feelings go away.” 

Fred notices the tears starting to fill Y/N’s eyes and he quickly pulls her into a comforting hug. “Love, I don’t think that’s the case. George is dumb, but he’s not cruel.” He gently runs his hand through her hair as a comfort, knowing it calms her down. “Maybe… He likes you back, and he thinks you were talking about someone else?” 

Y/N ponders his words for a second, genuinely considering it. There’s a chance Fred is right, after all, he knows George better than he knows himself sometimes but Y/N is refusing to get her hopes up. “

What the pair don’t realise is that George has been looking for Fred for the last 10 minutes, after he was late to their meeting at the library to work out the kinks in their Skiving Snackboxes treats when he spots them. 

They’re still hugging but George is far enough to not be able to hear anything they’re saying and his heart sinks. He knew Y/N liked Fred and to him, the image in front of him is confirmation he’ll always be second best, even to his number one girl. 

He clears his throat as he gets closer and they jump apart, Y/N not being able to meet his eye makes his heart sink so he looks away, barely acknowledging her presence. “You’re late, come on Fred.” He’s blunt and both Y/N and George feel terrible at this moment. Fred senses the tension, quickly composing himself and bidding Y/N goodbye and grabbing George by the shoulder to leave. “What is your problem, mate?” 

George makes a noise that’s between a grunt and a ‘shut up’ as he quickly walks to the library, not wanting to confront the current feeling of jealousy rising in his throat. 

- 

George is the furthest thing from being on cloud nine as possible. His new lifetime ban from quidditch has made his already sour mood worse and he feels terrible for anyone who has come into contact with him in the last week. He wants nothing more than to fly out of this school on his broom and never look back while he finally opens the shop with Fred. 

His mood is somehow worsened when Y/N comes through the portrait hole. It’s 11pm and George was hoping he would have the common room to himself so he could sulk in peace and maybe work on some joke products. But she barely even acknowledges his presence on the couch, taking a quick glance at him and looking away and rushing up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. 

The sinking feeling in George’s stomach is back, as it always is when he sees Y/N these days. He’s convinced someone worked out his crush on her and told her, and that her only response to that was to blatantly ignore him. He can’t talk, he knows he can’t. He’s done his fair share of ignoring Y/N over the past week but he didn’t think he was being as obvious as her. 

He doesn’t realise how long he’s been sitting in the common room, furrowing his eyebrows and contemplating the situation until Fred waltzes down the boys' dormitory stairs, sleep in his eyes and his messy hair sticking up everywhere. “Why the fuck are you still awake, mate?” 

George shrugs. He knows he’s been short lately with Fred too, but it’s not Fred’s fault. Just anything these days brings jealousy to his stomach and he can’t bear the thought of ever being mad at Fred for something out of his control. “Still having girl problems?” George shrugs again. 

“Listen, mate, do you like Y/N?” George is taken aback by Fred’s forwardness and he feels his face heat up and he knows he’s bright red. “No,” he squeaks and the look of smugness on Fred’s face tells him he knows he doesn’t believe him. “Okay, fine, I do.” 

Fred doesn’t know what to do, he never expected to get this far in his line of questioning for George. He knows he shouldn’t tell Y/N’s deepest secret to George but it’s killing them both not being together and thinking they don’t like each other. Fuck it, Fred thinks as the words spill out, “She likes you too, you fucking git.” 

George looks at him, dumbfounded. “No she doesn’t, she likes you.” 

Now it’s Fred’s turn to look at his brother dumbfounded. Not even for a second did he ever consider Y/N would have feelings for him, even before she confessed her feelings towards George to himself. It’s always been Y/N and George in his mind, the sun and the moon, the stars and the planets. He can’t ever imagine Y/N fitting so perfectly with someone than his brother and then he starts to laugh.

“You think Y/N likes me? Are you seriously that daft?” 

George doesn’t appreciate this, his arms crossed protectively across his chest, “Don’t laugh at me. People always chose you.” He’s quiet in his words but Fred’s heart sinks. “Mate, you know that’s not true.” He takes the seat next to George, fully awake at this point. “It is though. And it’s not your fault, don’t worry. People always prefer the more outgoing twin.”

“I don’t.” 

George and Fred’s heads snap up to where the voice came from, spotting Y/N standing on the stairs in an old t-shirt and sleep shorts. She’s picking at the skin on her fingers, the nervousness obvious. “What did you just say?” George asks, timidly.

She walks down the last few stairs, “I said I don’t prefer the more outgoing twin. I’m-” she takes a deep breath as she prepares herself for the confession she didn’t plan on doing- ”quite fond of the shy, only a little bit responsible twin.” Fred is smirking again as he usually is, and quickly leaves the pair in the empty common room. 

“I thought you liked Fred,” George whispers when she takes Fred’s old spot, “I didn’t think I ever had a chance with you.” 

She giggles as she softly takes George’s large, calloused hand in her own and she rubs her thumb soothingly along the back of his hand. “You’ve owned my heart for years, Georgie. I thought I made that obvious last week on the lake.” 

George thinks back to the moment of the lake and everything makes sense. Why she was being so coy when she mentioned confessing to someone and he suddenly feels very dumb. He pulls her hand up to his mouth and kisses her knuckles. He can’t help but feel incredibly overwhelmed, by the emotion they’re both letting out and how beautiful Y/N looks by the warmth of the fire. “You’ve owned mine for years too. How dumb are we?” 

She shakes her head and cups his face in her hands, “We’re not dumb. Just…” she pauses, finding the right words, “Clueless.” She giggles and George realises how badly he’s missed being in her presence. 

“I’m sorry for the last week. I’ve been a right prat, haven't I?” She nods and laughs again. “You have, but this just means you can spend the rest of our lives making it up to me.” She teases and George raises an eyebrow at her. He’s quick to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap and shoving his face into her neck.

“The rest of our lives, huh? Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren’t we Y/L/N?” He teases, but he’s joking. He’d be perfectly happy spending the rest of his life making up for this past week if it meant spending the rest of his life with the girl in his lap.

“Hey, it’s taken us years to get together, I’m not letting you go now, Georgie.” She winks and George wants nothing more to press his lips to hers.

So that’s what he does. She makes a noise of surprise at first, and he almost pulls away out of fear that this isn’t what she wants. But she’s quick to pull him back to her. The kiss is desperate, years of pent up emotions and pining being communicated through it. 

Both their hearts felt like they were about to beat out of their chests and Y/N couldn’t help but think this was better than she could ever have imagined. George’s lips were slightly chapped, days of chewing on them out of nervousness would do that but it was so distinctly George that she didn’t care. George pressed against her lips harder, making Y/N let out a slight moan that only he could hear and he couldn’t help but smile. 

It was the most perfect first kiss either of them could have ever wished for and when they finally pull apart, Y/N can’t help but admire George. His hair is messy from having her hands run through it, his lips are slightly swollen and his cheeks are flushed red. He looks absolutely breathtaking and Y/N has to resist the urge to pull him into another kiss. 

“Does this mean you're my girlfriend, now?” George questions. Y/N pretends to ponder for a moment, both to lightly tease George and to genuinely contemplate her answer. But she knows in her heart, she wants nothing more than to be George’s and a smile slowly overtakes her face.

“Maybe take me on a date first?” 

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley one shot #george weasley imagine #george weasley

[dainty-fingertips]

a forever thing. ||kars x fem! reader

wrote this one a few weeks ago bc a friend said i should write something with kars,, ended up being too long and i don’t think she ever finished reading it;; also, spoilers for if you haven’t finished battle tendency !!

word count: 2233

summary: training alongside caesar and joseph, you end up being kidnapped by the remaining two pillar men after the death of esidisi. a closet bookworm, you end up spending most of your time cooped up in the library of the rundown hotel, though most of your time is spent thinking of the leader himself. after kars drops some undeniable hints, you decide to test the waters.

trigger warnings: none :)

||

          Being taken for a sort of ransom by aztec gods wasn’t exactly on the agenda today. 

          After Joseph had killed Esidisi, the remaining two were -- as expected -- on edge. Wamuu, the youngest, and Kars, the eldest. You could grasp a fleeting understanding on why they chose you specifically, but nothing enough to make complete sense in your brain. It could have been Caesar, it could have been Lisa Lisa, but no. As of now, they were treating you quite well, actually. You figured Wamuu was the only reason you weren’t bound by rope and eating out of a dog bowl right now. Instead, you were perched upon a plush reading chair in a rundown library, clad in a comfortable robe (thanks to Wamuu, you weren’t stuck in your sweaty outfit from before). You had planned on touring to Switzerland one day after the war, but being trapped inside a rundown hotel with no real access to vitamin D was really taxing your health (mentally and physically) and never intended to be something you spent your time doing while here.

          In your rough-skinned hands, you held a worn copy of In Search of Lost Time. Your reading comprehension had improved over the past few weeks, at least. A rough knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m here.” You said calmly, hoping it was the younger Pillar Man. Of course your desires were not met. Kars stepped into the library, his headscarf absorbing some of the light from the candle lit on the table next to you. He eyed you in what appeared to be mild distaste. “Why are you awake?” You looked up from the book with an odd expression. “What do you mean?” You asked him. The god huffed softly, motioning to the boards on the windows. “The sun has gone down. Are you not tired?” You pulled your gaze over to the covered windows. “...Oh.”

          You had failed to notice the absence of flittering rays much earlier. “Wait, what time is it?” You mumbled to yourself. You looked at the grandfather clock on the wall to your right and your expression dropped. “It’s 1 am.” he mumbled, crossing his arms. You pursed your lips and quietly closed the book. You uncrossed your legs and set it back on the shelf. Kars watched you slowly make your way back and forth. “What about you?” You asked, wrapping your fingers around the candle tray. He stared at you. Were you asking why he was up? “What do you mean?” He asked with a sigh. “You’re still up, but you aren’t tired.” You stated while approaching him. He didn’t move. “I’ve told you this. Neither me nor Wamuu need sleep, human. Es-” He stopped himself mid sentence and his cold expression seemed to falter for only a moment. You had learned, in your three weeks here, that the pillar men deemed it inappropriate to show emotion to anyone other than family members or mates. 

          Kars had never slipped up around you before. 

          The gears in your brain began turning. Kars wouldn’t show something like that to Wammu even, at least that’s what you’d been told. Why, even if for a split second, would he let you see that? Did he see you as someone close? The mere idea was laughable. Kars’ cold exterior soon returned, though. Simply brushing aside the sight, you continued to listen to him. “Esidisi didn’t need sleep, either.” He continued, his voice almost strained. Was Kars trying to hide his pain? You looked at him with soft eyes. Kars seemed to get minorly flustered and removed his gaze from you.

          You sighed gently and gazed cautiously into his blooming red eyes, the simple sight of them making your stomach twirl a bit. He made you feel floaty when he looked at you. Your cheeks flushed and you looked away. You saw in your hazy peripheral that he had furrowed an eyebrow. “What?” He asked hesitantly, looking back at you. “Hm?” You couldn’t look back at him. “I was just wondering about something, that’s all.” You begged that the bluff worked on him, but you knew that Kars was smart. He didn’t respond for a few seconds, his eyes flickering across your face and body, looking for a hint of something in your body language. 

          He sighed and motioned for you to follow him. You stood there and glanced at him curiously, his back turned and footsteps echoing. He turned his head to look at you. “I’m taking you to your chambers. Come.” He said with a bored expression. “O-Oh, right.” You whispered. You jogged up to him, but slowed your pace once you were next to him. “What was it?” He asked. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him without moving your head. “What?” He sighed through his nose. “You said you were wondering about something.” Your mouth opened to the shape of an O. “Right. I was just curious, uh, Kars. Do you think you could sleep if you tried?” You queered hesitantly, avoiding your original thought of Kars’ sadness. You looked back ahead of you. Kars gazed to his right, thinking. “An odd question, human. Why do you ask?” You shrugged slightly. “I dunno. Curiosity, I guess.” Kars aired out a small ‘hm.’ and inhaled sharply.

          “Curiosity is a dangerous fault in humans. No matter how long I sleep, that will forever remain a constant.” You cocked your head to the side a bit, working up the courage to turn to him as you both walked. “What do you mean?” He looked down at you, a strand of his hair tufting out slightly. “It’s what got that damned Joestar wrapped into this mess. If not for him, we wouldn’t need to deal with this. Our mission would be far less… complicated.” You nodded your head. “And that’s been a forever-thing?” He squinted his eyes. “A what?” 

          “Well, that’s what my dad used to call it.” You said with a gentle chuckle. “Y’know, a forever-thing. Something that’s been around for forever. Literally and figuratively.” 

          “A forever-thing?” He pressed.

          “Mhm.”

          “Humans and their idiotic names for simple terms.” he spat.

          “Oh really?”

           He scoffed. “Yes.”

          “Then what would you call it?” You joked, putting a playfully heavy emphasis on your words. Kars groaned, but deep inside his old bones, he felt something. He could admire beauty when he saw it, especially for a human, but this was getting out of hand. You were completely oblivious to the fact that Kars had taken an especial liking to you, which he was grateful for. His cold demeanor felt almost immoral around you. You were similar to that Joestar boy, but you were somehow more tangible. He could… stand you, sure, but he didn’t know why. He had been surrounded by nothing but cold glares and serious attitudes his whole life, and he magnified it in the way he lived. It’s what earned him the highest rank in what now remained of the tribes, being merely him and Wamuu. 

          Though, having you around was a strangely acceptable change of tone. He began finding himself seeking out your attention, like 10 minutes ago. You weren’t in your bed, so he came looking for you where you normally sat; the library. You were propped in that chair, now claimed as yours, with your knees to your chest and a book in your hands. You seemed almost magnetizing, you seemed almost… well, he wasn’t sure. He’d never felt this way. Why did you grab his attention? You held him in your fingers like putty, rubbing him in all the right ways. Maybe, because of you, his opinion on the human species wouldn’t be so dire. Maybe, in your toothy grins, your glittering eyes, and your gentle hands,  you would change his mind. 

          Only then, did he realize you had taken his hand in yours.

          He quickly pulled it away. “Don’t touch me.” He spat, eyeing you. You chuckled and shrugged. “Sorry, force of habit. Whenever my dad was deep in thought, I’d grab his hand to pull him back to Earth.” Kars scoffed, rubbing his hand as though trying to get the feeling of your rough hands off of him. They were hard and calloused from training, he presumed, though it added to his simple adoration. He had never met a woman like this. His eyes lingered back to your hands for a moment before looking back ahead. “Well, I’m not your father.” You simply smiled ahead and didn’t respond.

          Kars let his hands fall to his sides and the two of you make it up the set of stairs to your room. The door sat closed, and you looked at Kars. “Would you mind, Kars, if I told you something?” You questioned casually, entering your room and looking at him from the inside. He nodded once and silently asked you to continue. Your face grew warm and you looked to the side, unable to look at him for a moment. “You…” You began, unsure how to tell him. He raised an eyebrow. “I what?” He said. You knew he was an impatient man when it came to things like this; you had heard it from Wamuu whenever he’d bring you food. “Spit it out.” You sighed and looked at him, your gaze wavering and nervous. “You aren’t half bad, Kars.” You said with an awkward tone of voice. You knew you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t know when you’d actually be able to tell him alone.

          Kars’ stance was unmoved. The meaning behind your words didn’t fully strike him until after the two of you silently stared at each other for 20 seconds. His face, twisted in mild confusion, soon loosened up. Realization clubbed him like a wooden baseball bat behind his knees. His maroon eyes darted across your face and his lips parted slightly. “What -- What are you saying?” He said quietly. He was sure his brain was playing tricks, but your face, it seemed so fearfully genuine. Sweat accumulated on the back of his neck in his headscarf. Kars was a god; the most powerful pillar man. He was above this. Why did… Why did it feel wrong to act that way around you? Why did he feel almost guilty when he acted superior?

          You stood motionless. “I mean, y’know. I enjoy… your… your company.” You stumbled over her words. Were you being intimate with him? He’d never seen this side of you. You noticed Kars slipping up on his own standards again, as well. His surprised emotions were clear as day, etched cleanly into his chiseled features. His fangs poked out onto his lower lip, a simple protrusion which you had wished you didn't find cute. You genuinely thought that Kars was attractive.

          Then again, who wouldn’t? He stood tall, around 6’8”. He towered over most all he came in contact with, but that was simply second nature to you now. You were used to craning your neck to get a better look at those blood-red eyes that almost seemed to despise you. A dark loft of his hair would make its cameo every now and again. He’d always get flustered whenever you’d mention it, telling you that he didn’t need the approval of a human. He’d then, a minute or so later, slyly tuck it back in. It’s not that he didn’t know, of course; it’s just that he only cared enough about it if you took the time to tell him.

          Wamuu had noticed his growing infatuation with you and the thought brought him a smile. After sitting down with Kars and listening to him do nothing but wax poetic about you earlier tonight, he told him to go find you. Maybe take a walk with you, if he felt like it. Kars kindly took up the offer; it seemed you had humbled him in that department, too. Normally he wouldn’t bother taking anyone’s advice, but here he was. Pulling him from the crevasse of his rushing brain was your hand, humbly wrapping your fingers around his.

          Kars stared at his hands, fingers being separated by your own, in blatant shock. “You aren’t as bad as I thought you’d be.” You whispered, barely audible to him. He locked eyes with you and without thinking, going against everything he’d ever stood for in the past, he curled his fingers around yours as well. You smiled softly and looked down, avoiding his gaze. Kars’ lips pulled back together, his lips twitching, desperately wanting to smile. “I suppose.” He said hesitantly. “Why are you being nice to me?” He soon asked, turning his gaze back to your face.

          He pulled his hand away, taking a step back. “I…” You murmured, retracting your hand as well. He looked between his fingers as though he’d touched gold, small glittering remnants still freckled along his palm. “I don’t know.” you finished with a heavy sigh. He closed his hand into a fist and looked at you with nervous confidence. “Well, if there’s nothing more, then I will take my leave.” He said quickly, nearly stuttering his words. He turned on his heel and began going the way he came. You gazed at his back as he swiftly left the hallway and sighed in disbelief. You had just grabbed his hand.

          Kars, it seemed, had fallen in love with the enemy.

          The enemy, it seemed, had felt exactly the same.

#kars x reader #kars jjba #pllar men #esidisi #wamuu #jjba part 2 #jjba battle tendency #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #im actually kinda proud of this #but dont tell anyone ok #x reader #kars jjba x reader #romance fanfic #x reader fanfiction #anime x reader

[cinnaminsvga]

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie​ because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

#bangtanarmynet #btsboulangerie #armiesnet #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #college!au #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts suga #bangtan #bts fanfic #btsghostie #why am i even pretending like i write angst anymore... who am i #i feel like ive forgotten who i am LMAOOOO

[butwhyduh]

I love titans!Jason a whole ton because of just how bold and cocky he is. He's a prime example of how people his age are, less inhibitions and more carefree life. He fits into that phase of thinking he's invincible (at least until what happens with Deathstroke.) Knowing what's coming up for him kinda makes me sad because we only have so much precious time with him as Robin, and I was enjoying it. Like, I'm excited to see the next part of his character, but it seemed to come so fast. Especially since they're already going to be running so many plotlines this season, with the Scarecrow stuff and the Blackfire situation, not to mention Raven going to help with the Donna issue. Jason being, well, Jason Todd and not Red Hood, is running on borrowed time and I just want them to do him justice.

- 💌💋 swak anon

I’m tentatively excited but don’t want to have too much hope of that makes sense. I write a lot. And I have ideas of how plots tend to go. I’m the worst to take to see a detective movie because I high key will spoil it in the first 20 minutes a lot. Like shutter island I called in the first 10 minutes. Loved that movie. Anyways, I’m very off topic lmao. But I just don’t know how they’ll fit it all in with both Red Hood and Blackfire storylines and introducing Barbara Gordon AND Tim Drake, especially since Jason is still Robin (!!!). I love scarecrow so I hope that goes good 🤞🏼

Unpopular opinion: But the actor playing Jason gets undue hate. Is Titans very canon compliant? No. But is any adaptation? No. Canon isn’t even canon compliant at this point. But everyone wants Jason todd, larger than life murderer and vigilante that’s been doing it for years. They also want him hypersexualized that isn’t even in the comics. That’s not the story of Titans. He’s a teenager that is Robin.

And live action Jason Todd is so complicated because his character goes through a physical transformation that would be harmful to an actor. Like they really have 3 choices which is to get someone that fits Robin, that they did, and make him seem bigger and more intimidating through movie magic (which they can make tom cruise look bigger they can certainly make curren Walters look bigger). We don’t want him on steroids or something. They could have hired someone that is big and Red Hood-ish and then it’ll be like Terry Cruz wearing the tag that says 9 year old child and he looks ridiculous next to Dick Grayson because he’s supposed to be a kid next to Nightwing’s adult. Or the third and cursed option is hiring one actor for robin and another for red hood. And that’s horrific unless they happen upon a family where they look almost identical but one is a few years older and they happen to be able to act. That’ll never happen especially since we are supposed to care about this character and changing actors is almost a guaranteed way to kill a character in most shows.

Also most people who say he acts nothing like Jason todd haven’t read his stories before turning into the red hood. After under the red hood came out they decided to add in the fact that he was an angry Robin that basically deserved and was doomed to die but that’s not true. He was happy, enthusiastic, and a nerd. He was sometimes naive and sweet and made mistakes.

But it wasn’t his hubris that killed him, it was his heart. He genuinely thought his mother was in trouble and tried to save her; not that he thought he could take on the joker by himself.

Same thing for the people that want sunshine unicorn fanon dick Grayson. Nope! He gets angry and dark and isolates sometime. And holy hell does brenton thwaites look like him.

2 characters I think titans got totally wrong? Bruce Wayne and Garth. Garth looks like Arthur curry in comics and I don’t get it tbh. And Bruce Wayne has the personality but he’s not a DILF. Playboy is right in his title and that guy isn’t it. But he’s a side character anyways.

#titans tv #titans s3 #titans!jason todd #titans!dick Grayson

[bangtanmademedoit]

gentle comfort // jungkook x reader

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 1000

genres: fluff

summary: Jungkook needs some help remembering that it’s okay to take some time to relax.

warnings: none that I can think of

notes: I'm not all that satisfied with this one.. But what else is new! I really wanted to post something for you all since it’s been a while, so I really hope you enjoy it none the less! I think the fact that I’ve been in need of comfort lately is coming out in my writing... haha. I’m sure there are a lot of other people out there who feel the same right now, so I hope this can warm your heart a little bit! I wanted to post something earlier than this, but the other scenario that I’m working on is already 3.5k and still going.. so I’m not sure when that will be out! Please always feel free to message me if you have any questions, comments, and suggestions! 

--

“What’s wrong?” You finally ask after watching his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh for the fifth time in the last 10 minutes.

He shifts his eyes over to where you’re seated on the arm chair, all cuddled up under your favorite soft blanket with a book in one hand and a steaming cup of hot chocolate in the other. The epitome of warmth and comfort. He attempts a smile but you can tell it’s not entirely genuine.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m just tired.” He reaches up to run a hand across his face as if he can erase the dark circles under his eyes with his fingertips.

You hum in understanding. He’s always working so hard, it doesn’t surprise you to hear that at all. Not to mention it’s a bit of a gloomy day which never fails to make you feel a bit more rundown. “Do you want me to give you a massage? Or I could start you a bath?”

He does manage a small smile this time. The way you immediately jump at the opportunity to help him feel better is enough to erase a fraction of the tiredness that has seeped into his bones. “No, that’s okay babe. You look so cozy, I don’t want to disturb you.”

You roll your eyes lightly at him, and brush him off with a smile. “Don’t be silly, you’re not disturbing me. You rarely ask for anything, it makes me happy when I’m able to do something for you.”

“You’re so sweet. But it’s okay, really. I should probably head to the studio and try to get some work done anyways. There’s been so many other things going on lately, I haven’t made much progress.”

It’s at this point that you finally set down your book and mug down on the coffee table and turn to fully face him. You take in the exhaustion on his handsome face, the dark circles under his round eyes, the furrowing of his brows, and the redness around his lids from him constantly rubbing at them. Your heart gives a painful tug to see him looking so run down. His tendency to work himself too hard isn’t anything new to you, but it never gets easier to witness. He’s too much of a perfectionist, and it hurts you every time you see him try to force a smile or a positive attitude when you know what he really needs is some rest. A chance to just let himself relax, deal with his emotions, and clear his head.  

“Kookie… It’s okay to feel tired and rundown. Everyone feels that way sometimes. It’s okay to take a rest when you feel that way. You don’t have to try and push through it.”

He can tell by the look in your eyes that you��re serious now. He isn’t dumb. He knows that whenever he pushes himself like this that he causes you to worry. But old habits die hard.

“I know… But I haven’t really even been working that much lately. I don’t know why I’m so exhausted.” His shoulders drop with another sigh, looking as if the entire weight of the world rests on them.

Your eyes soften. “Baby… You don’t need an excuse for feeling tired. No matter how much or how little work you feel like you’ve done, you still deserve rest. If you feel overwhelmed and exhausted, then that’s how you feel and you need to listen to your body. You don’t need to justify that.”

He bites down on his bottom lip and shifts his eyes down to his hands. His fingers pulling against each other. You know that he’s wrestling with something, and so you take matters into your own hands.

You untangle yourself from the blanket in your lap and make your way over to the couch. He doesn’t look up from his fingers even when you stop in front of him. You reach out slowly and start to card your fingers gently through his soft strands. You don’t say or do anything else. You just continue to run your fingers through his hair as you wait for him. After a few moments, you feel his shoulders shudder slightly before he suddenly collapses into you, his arms wrapping around your waist and his face burying into your stomach.

A gentle smile makes its way onto your face as you wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against you. You allow your fingernails to lightly massage his scalp, and he lets out a quiet noise of appreciation. You bite your lip to stop yourself from cooing out loud. He always turns into the cutest puddle whenever you give him head scratches, and it never fails to warm your heart.

You continue your ministrations as his hands slip under your hoodie and start to trail lazily over your back. He seems to take comfort in the feeling of your skin against his, and he lets out a happy sigh.

The two of you stay like this for a while before he pulls his head away enough to look up at you. His doe eyes are so full of admiration and love that you almost start to tear up. You just love him so much, and it never fails to amaze you that he seems to love you just as much back.

You smile sweetly at him and trail your hand down to cup his face. Your thumb brushes against his cheekbone, and his eyes crinkle with the shy smile that spreads onto his face. He looks so precious that you can’t stop yourself from leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his plush lips.

You try to pull away after a second but his arms tighten around you, and he lets out a small moan of protest. You try to suppress a cheeky grin, but ultimately decide to give in. This time you press yourself more firmly against him, and he is eager to respond. His kiss is as sweet and loving as it always is, and you drink him in greedily. The two of you fall into a comfortable pace, simply enjoying the familiar feelings. Melting into each other.

You only pull away when you start to find it hard to catch your breath. Both of your hands are now cupping his cheeks, and his are clenched tightly in the fabric of your hoodie. You just gaze at him in awe at that moment. He’s so beautiful, so handsome, so sweet, so hardworking, so humble, and yet he’s looking at you as if you are the center of his universe. You’re sure the look in your eyes is saying the same about him.

“Thank you,” he suddenly whispers.

You tilt your head in question.

“Thank you for loving me.”

This time you do tear up. You hope your voice sounds as sincere and warm as his as you say, “Thank you for teaching me what love is.”

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #bts scenario

[let-them-read-fics]

Back To You

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,266

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Some Fluff, Some Smut / Suggestive Themes, Some Swearing

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! This one is based loosely on the songs “Everytime” by Ariana Grande and “Oh My God” by (G)I-DLE. (Total bops, ikr?) There are some *spicy* moments in here, so prepare yourselves. Nothing too crazy, but it’s definitely something new for me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it; feel free to let me know what you think. Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

As Lisa watched you from the back of the room, her drink being clutched tighter in her hand with each passing second, she attempted to control her emotions. The current song’s strong beats pulsed throughout the house, the bass sending vibrations out across the floor. She watched as you spun around, leaning back and grinding slightly on whatever new person had been brave enough to approach you. Their hands were all over you, gripping your hips, your hair -- everything. The sight made her sick, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of you.

“You okay?” Jennie asked, raising her voice loud enough for her friend to hear. Upon seeing the dejected look on Lisa’s face, she followed her gaze; just as her eyes landed on you, your dancing partner leaned in to press a kiss to your neck. Your head was tilted back, granting them access; Jennie knew that Lisa would be crushed.

"Totally." She seethes, clenching her jaw and rolling her eyes as you're bent over again. 

Not even 10 minutes ago, she was the one dancing with you. The past hour had seen you two out there, bodies pressed close together, free in the rhythm. 

But she lost you the second that she left to get a drink: everyone who had been waiting for the chance to dance with you took this as their opportunity. 

Upon seeing her best friend so miserable, Jennie began to regret inviting you in the first place. The girls love Lisa more than anything and they want to see her happy; clearly, though, whatever you share with Lisa is anything but healthy. Every time they voice their concerns, she swears she knows what she's doing -- that she's capable of handling herself. It doesn't take a genius to see that she's not fine, but they do owe you some credit; she's seen some of her happiest times because of you. The only thing Lisa is certain of is that she can never seem to leave you. Anytime she thinks she's managed to let go, you're calling again, effectively pulling her back in. The situation is complex, feelings and fears mixing together in a deadly combo. 

After a while, Jennie convinces her to spend some time with the girls outside by the firepit in hopes of taking her mind off of the situation. She agrees, and soon she's genuinely enjoying herself again. 

~~~~~~~

Why, out of every other room possible, did she have to walk into this one? It's almost karmic, to the point that Lisa wonders if maybe she did something so unbearably heinous in a past life that she might be deserving of such punishment. She was simply looking for the restroom; never did she expect to witness this. 

Perhaps you haven’t noticed her presence yet -- you're in someone’s lap, half naked with your hair mussed and lips swollen, your motions never ceasing for a second. Standing there, catching you in the act, Lisa's torn -- should she slip away and pretend like she never saw that? Or should she burst in and interrupt you? 

Before she has time to react, the decision is made for her.

From outside the door, just a little bit down the hallway, another partygoer shouts out a slurred phrase to their friend, falling to the ground in a drunken heap. The sound catches your attention (considering it was loud enough to be heard over the music blasting from downstairs) and you look up. Lisa’s eyes meet yours halfway, neither of you knowing what to do at that point. She visibility tenses before muttering a quick sorry and shutting the door. Shit.

Your current hook-up is too busy leaving marks on your neck to even acknowledge what happened, their hands gripping your waist as they pull you in closer. While part of you wants to go after her, your mind is still clouded with desire -- your body overrules your better judgement, prompting you to continue on. You attempt to push the thoughts of Lisa from your mind, but every time your head is thrown back in pleasure, eyelids fluttering closed, the image of her sad eyes flashes before you. Why did she look so upset?

Lisa’s heart is breaking. After making her way down the stairs, she throws a goodbye to her friends over her shoulder before walking out. What the two of you have was never supposed to be complicated; quite the opposite actually. Neither of you can deny the energy you share -- the connection you feel anytime you're together-- but you aren't ready for a relationship. Lisa's always said that she isn't either, but it's a lie every time; she doesn't want to tie you down or hold you back from experiencing everything life has to offer, but she wants more with you. 

She prides herself on being a strong woman, tough in the face of difficult situations. But the one thing she can't seem to get over is the fact that you're intimate with other people. It's not a new discovery by any means, but in the past she could always pretend like it wasn't true when the sadness would come on especially strong. After finding you like that at the party, though, she clearly can't do that anymore. 

Once the two of you are finished, they quickly exit the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. With them gone, you can finally breathe and take a minute to think about what happened. Why do you feel guilty? Lisa has made it clear that she's okay with what you have going on, but yet something in her gaze told you the opposite. The way her face fell, brows knitted sadly, eyes cast to the floor -- it all sold her out, her real emotions on full display. 

~~~~~~~

Two Days Later

"Can I come over, baby?" The pet name felt a bit foreign on your tongue now, almost as if you didn't have the right to use it after what happened. 

She knew the words were coming, but she still felt her stomach flip at them. A simple "Mmm," came through the phone as your answer, and you soon set off for her apartment. You could tell she was trying to sound the same as always, attempting to disguise the uncertainty in her voice as indifference. 

~~~~~~~

*Knock Knock*

The second that the door opens, you begin to apologize. 

"Lisa, I'm sorry that you had to see--"

The feeling of her mouth on yours silences you, catching you completely off guard. Wasn't she upset? Despite the confusion, you don't move away; you allow her to pull you into the room, melting into her embrace as she pushes you up against the door. 

The logical part of your brain is begging you to wait, to talk about what happened that night, but you can't find the strength to step out of her hold. Gently, her nails graze over your skin, mindlessly tracing little patterns as her soft lips press to your jaw. 

Her hands swiftly snake under your shirt, caressing the warm skin of your abdomen, and she lifts her head to kiss your lips. After spending so much time with Lisa, you're able to read her well; every touch, tremble, and move has its own meaning, successfully communicating the thoughts that she could never say out loud. Her body never lies to you, and you consider it a trusted source for that very reason. With that in mind, you make a mental note to pay attention so that you might gain some insight into what she's feeling. 

After stumbling blindly into the living room, she walks you backwards until your legs hit the couch; with a shove, you're sent falling backwards onto the soft cushions below. Her darkened eyes peer down at you, scanning over every inch of your body. Once her gaze settles on your face, she smiles widely; you're already turned on, and she's proud of herself. The air of the room thickens as she licks her lips, signalling for you to take your clothes off. She reciprocates before joining you, hovering over your form. Her hair falls into your face, gently tickling your cheeks and lightening the mood momentarily; the action draws a giggle from you, and she grins at the sound. No matter how upset she was, how hurt your previous actions made her, she would forever be under your spell. 

The aura around you shifts back to its initial, tense state, thrilling you to your core. She bites your lip, granting herself more access as she nudges your legs apart with her knee. The feeling of her toned thigh connecting with your center sends you reeling, but she's quick to muffle your moan with a kiss. Every little move from her drives you crazy, only fueling your desire more. One of your arms wraps around her waist, aiding her movements on your thigh, while your other hand comes up to tangle in her hair. With a tug, you begin kissing down her neck, leaving dark marks on the tender skin there. Your actions pull a low groan from her, and you almost grow arrogant; your ego is soon put in check when she grinds further down onto you, her hips settling into a smooth rhythm. Your knees go weak at the sensation, your stomach tightening with each push and pull of her body against your own.

The pleasure rushing through you causes your eyes to flutter closed, mind only on Lisa. Your head falls back onto the cushion, and she jumps at the opportunity to gently -- teasingly -- wrap her fingers around your neck, the slightest bit of pressure added. "You like that, baby?" It's a rhetorical question: she knows you enjoy it, especially with the way that your pulse quickens beneath her fingertips, your skin heating up. She watches as your eyes peek open the slightest bit, only to widen upon seeing the lustful look she's giving you. Knowing that your words would surely fail you, you instead nod furiously, determined to answer her question anyway. 

Her other hand travels up your stomach, past your ribs, and eventually lands on the material on your bra. In one motion, she has it off of you, sending it flying across the room with a flick of her wrist. When you shift your leg, brushing it harder up against where she needs you most, her breath hitches and her movements speed up. "Fuck, Y/N," she whines out.

"L-lisa…" The word is a mix between a stutter and a sigh as it slips past your lips; the very ones that are swollen and red from her fervent kisses. Seeing you like this -- watching you slowly come undone right before her, squirming and calling out her name -- is one of her favorite pastimes. She wants nothing more than to be the only one who has the privilege of seeing this show. You've drug her under completely, leaving her no possible way of escaping the love she has for you.

The couch creaks beneath you, its springs being worn down with every thrust of Lisa's hips, and the lewd sounds you're both letting out echo across the apartment. Surely her neighbors can hear what you're up to, and perhaps that should matter; it doesn't, though, at least not right now. 

By the way she's pouring her all into it, giving you everything she has, you know she's hurt. She's trying to prove something to you, to show you how good she can make you feel. 

You match her energy, both of you spending the next while pulling out all the stops to bring each other to release.

~~~~~~~

Deep maroon paints the dusky sky, streaks and hues of yellow and orange mixing in here and there. From your position on the couch, the curtain is parted just enough to give you a glimpse of the brilliant summer evening. The two of you must've fallen asleep after your third round, considering how much later it is and how rested you feel. Lisa’s skin is warm against your own, her body cradled in your arms underneath the blanket. With this peaceful set-up laid out before you, you decide to put your head back again and relax.

A few minutes later, quiet sniffles against your chest snap you out of your post-sex haze, causing you to quickly reposition yourself to look into Lisa’s eyes. 

"What's wrong, jagi?" 

Her eyes shut at the name now, tears wetting her long lashes at the action. How many other people have earned that titled? The thought of you holding anyone else like you're holding her right now breaks her heart.

"Don't you know?" She asks sadly, voice soft.

"I think so, but I need you to tell me." Sensing that this conversation will be a serious one, you sit up fully so that you can face her. 

"I want to be with you, Y/N. I can't share you anymore." She dives right in, sick of always beating around the bush. This isn't the first time she's tried to make you aware of her feelings, but in the past she's always relented, chalking her confessions up to simply being caught up in the moment. Her tone lets you know that this time will be different, though. 

"Lisa, we've talked about this--" The words come out sounding tired, but you're not sure what it's more directed towards: her and this recurring argument, or yourself. Perhaps a bit of both, seeing as how they're interconnected in many ways -- you're the root cause of the issues. You're tired of reminding her of your agreement, always having to be the one to crush her spirits time and time again; but what's more, is that part of you is tired of fighting your feelings for her. 

She's perfect, even in the ways that she isn't, and you know you don't deserve her because of that. You're a deeply flawed individual, too much of a coward to face your feelings and be honest. All you've ever known is running, and the idea of being open and vulnerable with someone so important to you isn't something you can deal with. You've tried pushing her away -- keeping her at arm's length, hoping she'll see that she deserves better than you -- but it never works. You're far too selfish to give her up completely, and she's too in love to leave. 

"Don't say it," she pleads, fresh tears being wiped away as soon as they fall onto her skin. 

"Why am I so special, huh? You could have anyone in the world and you choose me? I'm a nobody; I have nothing to offer you." The words are whole-heartedly earnest, honestly surprising you a bit. 

"I don't know why, Y/N. Don't you think I've questioned that myself?" 

You shake your head, taking a minute to gather your thoughts.

"Tell me that you don't feel the same. I need to hear you say it." Her tone is final, attempting to hold strong. She's trying to do this in order to move on, but both of you know it's futile. 

"I can't do that." You refuse to lie to her.

"Why, if you're only interested in me for sex?" You curse yourself for allowing things to get to the point that she'd believe something like that. 

"You've gotta be kidding me. I care about more than that, Lisa; I'm just trying to protect you." 

"From what?" She inquires, quirking an eyebrow as she crosses her arms. She's growing frustrated just like you; you can feel it.

"Me, damnit! I'm not good for you; can't you see that?" You're exasperated at this point.

"Why the hell is everyone such an expert on what's good for me? The girls, now you -- evidently everyone gets a say in it but me."

She has a point, so you tell her to continue.

"All I know is that I want you, Y/N. I wanna be the person you wake up next to, the first person you call when you have news to share; your person. I know you're far from perfect, but when have I ever asked you to be? You're a fucking mess, but I want every part of you." 

Did she really just say that to you? Your mind tries to process how the hell you managed to have such an incredible woman so ready and willing to not only stay by your side, but actively want to be there. No one's ever cared enough to be different; but Lisa is the difference that you've been searching for all along. She's seen your struggles; you've told her more about your past than anyone else, and somehow it's only made her want to stay more. How you had been such an idiot before is beyond you, but you can't put all of the blame on yourself. Having a person like her in your corner is rare; you're just happy you had this epiphany before you let her slip away.

She's looking into your eyes, intently searching for an answer in the deep pools as she waits for you to respond. The nerves that she's worked hard to suppress bubble up within, sending a sinking feeling to settle within her stomach. She holds her breath upon seeing you slowly lift your head higher, a special sort of twinkle in your eye.

"I'm so sorry, Lisa; for everything. You're the best person I know, and the absolute last person to deserve what I've put you through. I'm just scared. You're different than what I'm used to and I don't know how to deal with that. But I want you, too."

She can't contain the smile that works on her lips, tugging the corners up in the most adorable way possible. Her heart is soaring now, starting to feel like it's being repaired as she fully registers your words. She's been dying to hear you open up -- to let her in -- and it's finally happened. 

"Yeah?" She asks, seeking reassurance that this is really happening before she gets her hopes up.

"Yeah." You declare, reaching for her hand. "I'm ready to try." A gentle kiss is pressed to it, serving as your way of confirming your feelings. For some reason, kissing her hand has always felt sacred to you; thus, you only do it on special occasions. She's noticed that fact too, so it means so much more to her that you chose to do it now. 

"Come here." She utters, leaning back and opening her arms for you to join her. She wants to hold you. With a wide smile, you quickly do as she asks; her embrace is one of your favorite places in the whole world, and you'd never miss a chance to be in it.

Your head is on her chest, the sound of her steady heartbeat making its way to your ear, comforting you. She rests her cheek against the top of your head, taking in the tropical smell of your shampoo. I'll have to get her some more, she thinks to herself. She can't wait to spoil you.

Now, with the cosmos finally finding some semblance of harmony, the two of you begin your journey together. It won't be easy, but the love you hold for each other is too strong to let go to waste. Lisa’s shoulders are free of the previous weight they held, her heart no longer bound by the shackles placed on it. She's free to love you, to show you that you're worthy of a good, kind love -- the type that's patient and honest -- and she's never been happier. 

#lalisa manoban #lisa manoban #lisa x reader #lalisa #blackpink #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagines #blackpink x reader #lisa x fem reader #blackpink smut #blackpink angst #blackpink fluff #kpop #kpop scenarios #blackpink scenarios #let-them-read-fics #jennie kim

[127-mile]

Bots and books.

Pairing: Artificial intelligence Ten x female reader.

Genre: AI, bookstore | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: Ten thinks robots are superior to humans.

Plot: When your boss asked you to train the new employee, you didn’t think you would end up with a robot freshly out of the factory.

Word count: +5.3k.

A/N: This is part of the AI project #14320 collab hosted by @pastelsicheng​​​.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

When you hear Taeil's voice behind you, you drop the book you were holding, and when it crashes on your foot, you pursed your lips so as not to be vulgar when so many customers are in the store. "Oh boy, I'm sorry, I should have warned you that I was here." Taeil whispers, and when you look over your shoulder, you notice that he doesn't look embarrassed by the situation, or ashamed, on the contrary, he looks amused.

"I feel like you are trying to hurt me, am I wrong?" you ask, squinting, and he shrugs. At least he bends down to pick up the book and put it where it was supposed to go. "Maybe I'm just trying to get you to go home because you're spending too much time here, maybe I didn't do it on purpose, who knows." If he wasn't your boss, you would have insulted him, but you care about your job, and you like being able to pay your rent every month without having to ask your parents for help.

“I don't spend too much time here, I even think that I don't spend enough time here. But getting back to what caused you to come bother me, yes we can talk. What do you want?" you turn completely towards him, and you tilt your head to the side. "We're going to have a new employee tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could take care of him, show him how the bookstore works, show him how to use the cash register, you know, everything that I taught you when I hired you."

"Aren't you supposed to take care of it, as the boss?" you ask, and he takes his hands out of the pockets of his pants when a client approaches, he smiles at her, and when she disappears, he regains his slumped position. "Are you listening when I'm talking to you?" you know it's a rhetorical question and yet you shake your head, you're not going to lie, you tend to stop listening when he talks for too long. Can he blame you? He has a soft voice that lulls you to sleep.

"I vividly remember telling you last week that I had to go away for a few days. I have an appointment in another city for my next book." oh yes, you remember hearing him mention a new book, an appointment with his publisher, and other people who might help him, but you don't remember hearing him mention the date, or how long he would be gone. "Am I going to have to spend weeks putting books away with your head on the cover? I better get a raise for that!"

"Why would you get a raise, you should be happy to see my face on books!" you could tell him that yes, it's an honor to work with a famous writer, but you don't want to give him that pleasure. "So if I have to take care of the new employee, does that mean that I will also be the boss until you come back from your vacation?"

"It's not a vacation," he mumbles, and you smirk, it's so easy to annoy Taeil, and that's why you like him so much. "but yes, you will be in charge of the store until I return. So are you okay with that?" you know you don't have a choice, that you are the only person working here that he trusts enough to entrust his shop, his baby. "Of course I agree! I won't miss an opportunity to turn a new employee against you."

"Maybe I'll take this opportunity away from the store to find a new employee, to replace you. I've had enough of you!" you're very happy that customers are around, otherwise he certainly would have shouted to sound more dramatic. "You can't fire me, because I'll ruin your business, and you love me way too much, you'll be bored without me. Do I also need to remind you that you wouldn't have a manuscript for your editor to read if I hadn't been there to force you to write?"

Rather than respond, Taeil walks away muttering something between clenched teeth, and if a client wasn't calling for your help to find a book, you most likely would have laughed at his behavior.

Night has fallen for an hour or so when you finally lock the bookstore door behind you, and when the cold wind caresses your cheeks, you sigh deeply. You like this place, it's a bit of a second home for you, but good god, you want to be at home, even if you have to deal with your roommates' antics until you fall asleep.

"Excuse me?"

Your blood freeze in your body, you should have checked that no one was around the store when you went out, because Taeil is already gone, and he won't be there to help you if a drunken idiot, or a little too pushy keeps you from coming home. You take a deep breath, but it hitches in your throat when you turn on your heels. "Can I help you?" you ask in a voice that you hope is not too shaky.

The young man stays silent for a while, and you frown when he tilts his head a little too slowly not to look like a killer straight out of the horror movies you love so much. You clear your throat, and he seems to take notice of the question put to him, so he nods, extending a hand to you. "You dropped that." in his hand, you see the notebook that you always keep in your bag, bag that you have thrown over your shoulder without even taking the time to close it.

The lump that had formed in your throat is disappearing as quickly as it came, and you refrain from sighing in relief. "Oh, thank you very much!" you take the notebook that you put in your bag before closing the zip. "Thank you?" the young man answers, but before you can open your mouth he walks away from the shop.

You happen to meet strange people, but this is the first time you've met someone like him, someone who seems surprised to have been thanked for something as mundane as returning a notebook. Taeil would say that this is a person's first life on earth. Him and his writer mind.

Even though the stranger didn't look dangerous, you make sure he got far enough away to walk in the direction of the stairs leading to the underground metro. If you're not a fan of this place, you like being there at this late hour, because it's not so crowded, and it's easy for you to find a seat in the metro. You push your headphones into your ears, and you look up at the screen near the sliding door.

You roll your eyes when you see the ads for LSM going on. If you were to earn $10 every time you saw it on TV, or heard it on the radio, you would have enough to pay your rent for at least six months without needing to work. This really isn't an exaggeration, the company really wants everyone to know about what they are offering, new updates on their bots, and how excited they are to have sent the most of their new robots in the world for work, for study, or for entertainment.

You have nothing against robots, you just think it's a shame to take jobs from people who genuinely need to work, but apparently: "robots aren't here to replace you, they're here to make it easier for you. Do not be scared, technology is good, we need it." You're not sure if you're okay with that, and you'll let it know when the robots take over the world.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost forget to get up to get out of the metro, these damn robots will end up making you miss your stop. Yes, sometimes it's much easier to blame the robots than it is to accept your responsibilities.

"Johnny, if you don't get out of the bathroom in a minute, I swear to god I'll make you swallow your camera!"

you growl, and you open your eyes. Why do you always have to wake up regretting all the decisions that brought you here, living with two roommates who are ready to tear their heads off at the first opportunity offered to them. "And I'll make you eat your books back if you do that!" you hear Johnny respond, and you wonder why the neighbors haven't filed a noise complaint yet. You would have done it since day one.

"Doyoung, you don't work Saturdays, why are you already up?" you ask in a voice loud enough to be heard, and what you didn't want to happen happens. The door opens, and your gaze meets Doyoung's, he has furrowed brows and dark circles, since when has he not slept? "For your information, young lady, I would be sleeping if Johnny hadn't knocked on my door at six in the morning to ask me for the time!"

"Not that I want to stand up for him, but you looked for it by setting his alarm clock to go off at five the other day." you answer, and he rolls his eyes as he walks into your room to drop into the bed, and you groan when his back blocks your legs. "Doyoung, I have to go to work, so if you could move that would be very nice." he doesn't move, and you wiggle your legs until you can free one. "As soon as I convince Taeil to give me a raise, I'll find myself another apartment and I won't have to deal with you anymore." you mumble, and Doyoung chuckles.

"Even if he agreed to give you a raise, which he won't do until he has published two more books, you won't leave. You don't like silence, and you will miss us too much after the first day." he's not wrong, but you could always find a new roommate. "It's okay, I'll find someone else. Someone who doesn't make me want to throw myself out the window every morning."

"If you need help finding a new roommate, ask us, we'll be happy to help." you sigh when you hear Johnny, and when you turn your head, you roll your eyes. Johnny is in the doorframe, a towel hanging low around his hips, and drops of water falling from his hair. "We'll find you someone good. Or someone worse than us, Doyoung and I will have to talk about it before we decide."

Before Doyoung can react, you free your second leg, grab your clothes for the day, and head to the bathroom, not without pushing Johnny out of the way. "Y/n, I'll make you eat your fucking books!" Doyoung growls as he straightens up, and you laugh. You know he can do it, but before that, he'll take the time to find the worst book in your book shelves to do it, so you'll have plenty of time to run away, change your identity and be forgotten.

You need less time than Johnny to shower, and to be ready to go. When you come out of the bathroom, you notice that the two boys are still in your room, and they are chatting as if they hadn't threatened each other less than twenty minutes ago. "Are you going to stay in my bed? Don't you have bedrooms, or a couch where you can talk?" Doyoung looks up, and he smirks. "Your bed is much more comfortable. We're talking about what to do with this room when you're gone." little shit.

"Well, since I'm apparently the only one working here, I'm going to go. See you tonight, or never." you get your bag that you throw on your shoulder and you stick your tongue out at Johnny who waves to you without moving from your bed, the sheets are going to be damp because of him, and you want to hit him for that, but that might make you late for work.

You leave the apartment, and like the day before, you quickly find the stairs leading to the underground metro, and unlike yesterday, it's more difficult to find your way through the students, workers and partygoers who have just returned from a party the night before. You concentrate on your breathing to avoid letting yourself be overwhelmed by the different smells of perfume, sweat, and alcohol.

When the doors slide open, you quickly get out of the train, and you find the outside. You never thought you would miss the clean air as much as since you started taking the subway to work. Since Taeil is away, the shop is still closed, and it takes you at least five minutes to find the keys in your bag, and for a second, you wonder if you haven't left them at home, but you sigh with relief when your fingers come in contact with the cold surface of a key.

You unlock the door, and walk into the store smiling at the familiar scent of old books piling up in part of the store. When you started working here, you asked Taeil what the old books were for, that they would never be sold, but now you see the charm of the old book with the damaged binding, the sound of the pages, and you wouldn't do without them. You put your bag on the counter, and you turn on the lights.

Taeil must have gone to the store before leaving, because you can find the boxes already behind the counter. You could have taken care of the delivery, but Taeil likes to check that everything is there, even if he might be late for an appointment that could really change his writing life, even if in your opinion, he is already quite popular and doesn't need more help.

You sit up when you hear the door open, and you open your mouth. "We're not open yet, sorry." you say, and if you expected the door to close, it stays open, and when you look at the person, your eyes open wide. This is the man who gave you your notebook back last night, and once again, he tilts his head far too slowly not to be awkward to watch.

“I'm LC27296,” he begins, but he shakes his head with a certain vigor that you would never have at this time of the morning. "I'm Ten, I'm going to work here." your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. For a minute, you forgot that you were supposed to take care of the new employee. "Taeil told me to come before the opening to make it easier." oh he did that?

"Before I introduce myself, I have a question for you. What were you doing here last night?" you ask and he suddenly seems nervous. "I- I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to make sure of how long it would take me to get here, so that I wouldn't be late for my first day." you hum, not sure you believe it, but it's not like you can accuse him of something without having any proof whatsoever. "Alright. I'm Y/n, I'll take care of teaching you how the store works until Taeil comes back in a few days. You can shut the door."

Ten does, and he approaches the counter, he doesn't seem in his element, but if Taeil hired him it's because he saw something in him. "Why did you give me numbers when I asked you for your name?" you suddenly ask, curious.

"Oh! It's my serial number, but I was told I had to introduce myself with my name, it makes it easier to fit in." a serial number, what the hell? You frown as you take your phone from the pocket of your jacket, and you open up the conversation with Taeil.

To Taeil: A serial number, what's wrong with the guy you hired?

Taeil must still be in the car, or on the train, since the answer is not long in coming. You shouldn't ignore Ten, but you need an answer before you decide whether you want to be locked up with a stranger all day, or not.

From Taeil: Ten is a robot. LSM sent me a letter a few weeks ago asking if I wanted to take any of them, and I said yes.

To Taeil: And you didn't find it useful to tell me that I was going to have to train a robot? And besides, aren't they already programmed to know how to do everything, why should I waste my time training him? Is this your way of telling me that I'm fired and that you will only hire bots from now on?

You don't get a response, which shouldn't surprise you, so you put your phone on the counter, and you meet Ten's gaze, who hasn't moved an inch. Did he himself on pause while you were busy? "So you are a robot?" you ask in a small voice, and he nods. "Yeah, you didn't know?" honestly no, even though LSM has some amazing quality robots you would expect to see them with bolts and metal.

"It's my first day away from the factory, and I'm very happy to be here!" he adds, and you roll your eyes, if he's happy that's the main thing, but you're not sure you are. "You can think of me as a human being like any other, no need to make a difference because I am superior to you." you gasp at him, but  you can't help but smile, stunned. "Just because you're made of metal doesn't mean you're superior to us. I'm sure if I throw water at you you'll rust and stop working, so in a way, I'm superior."

"You can try, but it won't work! That would be stupid to think we fear water, or fire, or anything for that matter, right?" oh, it might get hectic if he continues. "How about I show you how the store works? Because if we talk any longer, I might look for other ways to turn you off, and you wouldn't want that to happen, would you?" he shakes his head, a worried look on his face. Perfect.

You're going to have a serious conversation with Taeil, you think, showing him where the books go, how the cash register works, and where the storeroom is, storeroom that is also used as a rest room.

"For starters, you're going to go to the storeroom, and you're going to sort all the books alphabetically while sorting them by genre, can you do that, oh you superior robot?" you ask, tilting your head, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Of course I can do it!" Taeil never asked that the books in the storeroom to be sorted, since most are unsold books that will be donated to associations or the city library, but you don't want to have him in your legs when the first customers arrive.

You take your phone, and you send one last message to Taeil before turning on the light in the storefront indicating that the store is open.

To Taeil: This robot is an idiot, and if he pisses me off too much, I'm going to fire him whether you like it or not.

To make sure you don't receive an answer, you turn off your phone before throwing it in your bag before starting to put away the new books. And surprisingly, the morning goes off without a hitch. Ten comes out once or twice to ask you for advice on an unfamiliar book, the few customers who come in don't need your help, so that's nice.

When the time comes to close the shop for the next two hours, you enter the storeroom. Ten is sitting on the ground, and he's surrounded by books that should have been put away for a long time now, but the robot seems way too deep in reading to do the job you asked him to do. You frown. "Do you know that reading is not part of your contract?"

Ten doesn't react, he just turns the page and laughs at something he just read. "Taeil buys LSM magazines, I'll go check if I can't find an article on how to deactivate a robot if it becomes threatening." you say, and immediately Ten lifts his head to look at you. "But I'm not threatening!" he exclaims, like a petulant child would.

He may be a robot, but he has typically human reactions, which is strange in itself. At least for you. "They won't have to know when I throw your body in front of the factory you came from." you answer in a slow voice, and Ten finds himself on his feet, not without slipping a bookmark in his book so as not to lose his progress. "Sorry, I found this book, and it's so interesting I couldn't help myself."

You look at the title, and you smirk. You hide in the storeroom when you don't feel like coming home, and it's one of the books you've read. "If you don't want me to tell you who the killer is, you're going to finish putting those books away, and then I'll give you time to read until the store closes tonight, do we have a deal?"

He mumbles something between his teeth, but ends up nodding. You walk away from the room before remembering that you had a question for him, so you go back. "Do robots eat?" you wouldn't want to deprive him of his lunch break and end up with some sort of robots protection squad on your back for mistreatment. "Yes, we eat. I told you, we are like you."

"It's break time so you'll finish tidying up later." Ten passes over a pyramid of books, and he leaves the room, not without taking his book with him. "So, what are we going to eat?" he suddenly asks, and you want to take his book and hit yourself with it. "What do you mean, we?"

"Taeil told me you would take me out to eat with you so I wouldn't be alone in the store." Taeil should remember to tell you when he decides something, because you can't continue to be surprised every time he opens his mouth. "Did he say that?" a nod. "Great. I'm going home to eat, so I think you're going to meet the two most annoying people on this planet after you."

He squeals with delight and you roll your eyes as you pick up your bag. You exit the store by locking the door behind Ten, and you head for the subway train. "I love meeting new humans, you are all so fascinating!" you wonder what can be fascinating about humans, but for a robot, everything has to be. "What fascinates you so much about us?" you ask going down the stairs, being careful that Ten keeps following you, you don't feel like looking for a lost robot in the streets.

"We can feel emotions, but they're programmed for us, so it's not as real as when you feel them." human emotions are difficult to understand, humans are confusing. "I think it's pretty nice to be programmed to feel certain things, it's probably easier, less confusing."

"You're wrong," Ten starts to say, following you in the subway, he sits next to you not without looking at a little dog with stars in his eyes, as if he had never seen a dog in real life, so much so that you wonder if there are robot dogs, you'll have to ask him one of these days. "We're forced to feel the emotions, so we don't understand them. Being programmed doesn't mean we understand what's going on."

It's pretty sad, you think.

"Do you have a program that allows you to kill us if we becomes threatening for you?" you ask in a low voice so as not to attract the attention of the students around you. Ten's eyes widen and he chuckles. "No, we can't do that. We're not here to hurt you, just to help you." it's a shame, you would have needed it with Johnny and Doyoung.

"This is where we come down." Ten follows you to the door of your apartment. You can smell Doyoung's food already. He might be annoying, but when he's not working he always makes a snack for you for when you come home from work during the break, and that's very nice. "I live with two people, Johnny and Doyoung, they can be weird, and they might ask you tons of questions, so be prepared."

When you put your hand on the doorknob, Ten puts his hand on your wrist to stop you. "Wait, wait. Are they going to hurt me? Some humans can be mean when in the company of a robot." oh, he didn't sound so nervous earlier, but in a way you can understand that. "They're not mean, and they're quite fascinated by LSM's robots, so you have nothing to worry about, they won't do anything to you."

You open the door when he seems to be relaxing, and you sigh when you hear the loud voices that most likely come from the kitchen. "Johnny, how many times have I told you not to set foot in my kitchen? You're a walking hazard, you'll manage to set some water on fire if you wanted to! Get out!"

"Guys, I'm here. And I'm not alone, so if you could behave like normal people that would be really nice." you say and immediately Johnny's head pops out of the kitchen door jamb and you roll your eyes. "Oh hello mister stranger, who are you, are you our beloved Y/n's secret boyfriend?"

"I-" Ten seems unable to speak, and Johnny throws his head back when he notices the blush on Ten's cheeks as he lowers his head. "Oh, he's blushing! Adorable! He's in love but he hasn't had the courage to tell her yet. Doyoung, come see!" you should have known that they were going to mess with him. You should have warned them before you got home, threatened them, or promised to pay for the next pizza night.

"Shut up, big idiot! He's the new bookstore employee, we met this morning." you respond by swinging your bag in a corner of the apartment after removing your shoes. Ten does the same, and he follows you into the living room. You're pointing your index finger at the boys. "Johnny, Doyoung, this is Ten. He works with me."

"Oh, I didn't know Taeil was okay with hiring bots." Doyoung says, stunned. "How do you know it's a robot?" were you the only one who didn't have a clue? The only one that can't tell the difference between a robot and a human?

"It shows! And he's got LSM's name tattooed behind his ear." You'll have to go see the ophthalmologist to get glasses, because you didn't notice the black ink behind his ear. "Taeil didn't really hire me, it's just a contract for a couple of months to see how quickly I adapt to a new environment. Next time I'll be in a new place." oh, that's a detail you didn't know either, you thought Ten was here for good, at least until you got fired, or left.

"And can't you ask to stay at the bookstore for good?" you ask, sitting down in a chair, and Ten shrugs. "Why, have you already become attached to me? You refuse to see me go?" you could get up and hit him, but you don't want to break your fist if he is made of metal inside. "I said that because I wouldn't say no to less hours of work, dont think I appreciate you."

"She never introduced anyone to us, even casual employees, so you must be special." Johnny says winking at Ten, and you refrain from leaning over the table to hit him. "Taeil asked me to take care of him, what was I supposed to do, lock him in the storeroom with a piece of bread and a glass of water?"

"That's what you would have done with us, so yeah." he's not wrong, that's what you would have done if you had had Johnny and/or Doyoung as a colleague. "Anyway, we don't have all day, so if you could just leave Ten alone so we can eat." you mumble, but Ten shakes his head, apparently he doesn't mind being the center of attention. At least he knows that emotion, and he understands it, that's a good thing.

When it's time to go back to work, you almost have to pull Ten out of the apartment. "But why? I was having fun with your roommates!" of course he was having fun. "You can come back and see them if you want." you answer by going down the stairs. You have a little over thirty minutes left before you have to open the store, so rather than locking yourself in a subway train, you decide to walk.

"Really, you would let me come back?" you shrug your shoulders. "Why wouldn't I want to?" Ten plays with the hem of his hoodie, and you frown, he doesn't look like the type to be surprised or even slightly nervous over something as futil. "Because I wasn't very nice to you when I arrived this morning. But like I told you, some humans don't want us to fit in and want to harm us, and I heard so many stories that I defended myself if you ever decided to be like them."

"I don't understand robots, I don't understand LSM's motivation, but that doesn't mean I would hurt any of you. You should have waited, and you would have known it."

"I'm sorry Y/n, and I promise I'll do my job well until the end of my contract!" he exclaims, his smile back on his face. His beautiful face, moreover, you did not miss this detail. "I hope so, otherwise I won't give you time to read before closing." he gasps, but he laughs, and you have no choice but to laugh with him.

#nct #wayv #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #ten imagines #ten scenarios

[inkandpen22]

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (10/10) Caspian Version

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader/ Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader

Warnings: emotional ending but happy!

Word Count: 2.6k

Part Summary: As the Pevensies time in Narnia comes to an end, Y/N must decide. There isn’t just one question that needs to be answered... who will Y/N pick? Will Y/N really consider staying in Narnia? 

A/N: And with that one of my first series comes to an end... it’s both exciting yet sad at the same time as I’ve had so much fun writing it. Thank you to everyone who’s followed the series! I appreciate you so much! Be warned, you bet I cried a little writing this! It’s so bitter-sweet! 

Masterlist 

The whole Talmarine kingdom, as well as Narnians, have gathered in the courtyard for the ceremony. Aslan has made the decision to allow some Talmarines to leave Narnia if they choose. Apparently, Talmarines are like the Pevensies and myself I suppose, they're from our world. They traveled to Narnia centuries ago by accident and made a home here. Caspian speaks to his people with such ease as he encourages them to consider the offer. He's a natural-born leader. He's meant to be Narnia's future king. As I come to this conclusion, I take Peter's hand beside me. He glances down at me, having not expected the action. Nonetheless, he gives my hand a comforting squeeze and offers me a gentle smile of reassurance.

General Glozelle and Miraz's wife, Prunaprismia, volunteer first with her baby. In honor of their bravery, Aslan blesses them with a good future. The pair walk toward the tree that Aslan has made part in half. Everyone watches in awe the General and former Queen disappear in a blink. My lips part in astonishment. I don't think I'll ever get used to magic. Gasps fall across the crowd and people begin to question Aslan's intentions. They fear this is all a trick.

Peter slips his hand from mine and steps forward. "We'll go," he volunteers us.

"We Edmund frowns, sharing my expression.

"Wait, what?" I express rather rashly.

In my defense, it's justified. Peter never asked for my opinion. He's deciding for me. Aslan... Aslan made it out to seem as though I had a choice, as though we all would have at least some more time here.

"Come on. Our time's up," Peter tells me solemnly, but an ounce of hope lingers in his tone. "After all... we're not really needed here anymore," he determines while approaching Caspian to offer him his sword.

"I will look after it until you return," Caspian assures Peter confidently.

"I'm afraid that's just it," Susan interjects beside me. "We're not coming back."

"We're not?" Lucy pouts with concern.

"You two are," Peter predicts, glancing between Aslan and his youngest sister. "At least, I think he means you two."

"But why?" Lucy struggles to comprehend the purpose behind this news, as do I. "Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, Dear One," Aslan voices. "Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now it's time for them to live on their own." Aslan comforts each of us with his wisdom.

Though, frankly, I'm finding it hard to swallow this harsh pill. But all things have their time.

"It's all right, Lu," Peter tries to ease Lucy's mind as he takes her hand gently. "It's not how I thought it would be...but it's all right."

Peter directs his attention to me and holds out his free hand for me to take. "One day you'll see, too. Come on."

He offers me a weak smile, not one that shows genuine happiness, but contentment. I ease my hand out to glide it into his, but something stops me. A feeling in my chest telling me not to settle as Peter as with his decision. I shift my head toward Aslan to ask the lion directly. "And what about me?"

My patience is growing thin. All this back-and-forth yet I haven't heard a concrete answer about where I belong. Aslan is constantly confusing me with his tricky wording. One minute he makes me believe that finding him wasn't my purpose for coming here and the next he's telling Peter that his time here is over. I belong where Peter is, I always have. If his purpose is in our world... then so is mine. Then, does that mean I'm like Edmund and Lucy? Am I destined to return in the future? How far in the future? Narnian time is different from ours, who knows how many years will pass before we're here again. It could be another thousand years in Narnian time.

"Your course is not as clear-cut as theirs," Aslan states with uncertainty. "You still have much to learn from here, as do Edmund and Lucy. Going back means one day, you will return, as will they."

"So I am to go back," I hope to clarify.

All I want is an answer, to know my path.

"Returning to your world will bring you back here someday, yes, that is a course you may take," Aslan nods calmly.

So, after all this time, after all the back-and-forth, Aslan is guiding me toward Peter. He made it sound as though I had to make this life-altering decision. The first few days we were here, I would've given anything to go back home. I never wanted to be in Narnia. Now that I have my chance to get out and everyone is rushing me out the door, I'm digging my heels into the dirt begging for a moment's pause. All this time Aslan has been pressing me to make a decision, why do I feel as though he's making it for me? It's suffocating.

I glance between Aslan and Peter nervously. Aslan wears his usual gentle and patient smile while Peter is confused with furrowed brows. His hand remains out to me, lingering for mine to join it. I whip my head around and my eyes land on Caspian. His features fall as he comes to terms with my departure. I approach the future King solemnly. All I can keep thinking is 'more time! More time! If only we had more time!' I can't visualize who the 'we' is exactly. When I say it, all I can think of is the riverbank in the forest. I see myself lying beside the river in the plush green, flower-covered, grass. The warmth of the golden sun scatters over my skin. I spent time with both Peter and Caspian there. What I would give to return to those moments. Whether I'm hoping it's with Peter or Caspian, I can't see. Each of them matters to me, on what level I can't decide.

"I'm glad I came," I tell Caspian whole-heartedly.

"I wish we had more time together," the prince sighs, taking my hands in his.

His hands are warm. Mine are always cold. I never noticed that before now. I'll miss that.

"I'm not entirely sure I belong here," I confess timidly, still unsure of my thoughts and Aslan's advice.

"Why not?" Caspian frowns as if my words are nonsense.

"I’m not of this world and if the Pevensies are 1,300 years older than you so am I," I shrug with a hint of a smile as I comprehend how old I am.

I'm not a Narnian or a monarch of Narnia. Aslan said I was meant to come here with the Pevensies, but our time is up and I've yet to find this purpose he speaks so much about.

Caspian expresses a faint smile, amused by my humor, but too solemn to fully be happy. Both of us pull the other into an embrace. The words continue to repeat in my mind. 'More time! More time! If only we had more time!' I feel as though I'm standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking a deep trench and I'm stuck wondering whether I should jump. Caspian and I part from one another. It's painful. I feel safe with him, more secure and understood than I ever have before. I don't want to let go, but at the same time, I'm yearning to cling to Peter.

Peter meets me halfway and wraps an arm around my waist, leading me toward the tree trunk. The Pevenesies begin toward the tree as well, ready to go on.

"It’ll be okay," Peter whispers in my ear as he brings me into his side.

I feel safe here with him. Peter is home for me. For years, he's been my rock, my strength. Through the war, losing my dad, through all the bad, Peter has been my guiding light.

He continues to comfort me. "Everything will be as if we-"

"Peter, no wait... " I shake my head as my steps come to a halt.

It takes a second for Peter to react. He comes to a halt a few steps ahead of me. Turning over his shoulder, he gives me a confused look.

"I can’t go back," I voice, but my volume is weak.

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"I... I think I’m still needed here..." I stammer with uncertainty. "At least... At least that’s what I think Aslan means. He speaks like a fortune teller and it’s confusing!"

Peter switches his now crossed expression from me to the lion. "Aslan, is that true?"

"Y/N’s future is not set in stone as your four’s is in history. She has known that she has to decide her course of action for some time. The clock is dwindling," Aslan explains steadily.

Lucy steps forward from behind Peter. "You mean you have to stay here?"

"It means I have a choice, staying here or coming again later. I’m assuming the next time will be with you and Edmund. Either way, I’m needed here. I just know it." I try to explain, but how do I explain a feeling?

"Neither choice is wrong," Aslan injects as he moves to stand beside Peter and me. "Going back to your world would mean you would return with Edmund and Lucy. After that, your life will be as you've always envisioned with who you envisioned. Staying here would be as you've envisioned as well," Aslan explains, giving me a knowing look. "You will prosper in both worlds, in whichever you decide."  

Does Aslan know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about the riverbank? Is that what he's referring to? Does he mean that if I stay in Narnia I'll be with Caspian? If I return to England Peter and I will be together? Choosing a world also means choosing between Peter and Caspian.

"But why?" Lucy pouts.

"I don’t know," I struggle to say as my eyes begin to well up.  

"I do," Peter voices.

"What?" I mutter.

"I didn’t understand it at first, but Aslan told me something earlier today. He said, ‘as much as we wish we could, sometimes we can’t choose who we love, the world chooses for us.’ You’re needed here. This is why you were brought here with us. When Caspian called for us with the horn, he unknowingly was calling to you as well."

I press my lips together as my throat becomes strained from holding back tears. "Peter I- "

"It’s okay," he assures me as his hand glides up to cup my cheek. "Everything is as it should be."

"If this is how it should be, why does it hurt so much?" I mutter, my tone shaky with emotion.

Peter shakes his head as his eyes become glossy. "It won’t forever. We’ll both grow and find that which we were destined to. I always thought we would find that together," he chuckles softly, it's bitter-sweet. "But this is right," he speaks with certainty.

"But I’ll never see you again," I comprehend the harsh reality of it all. "I... I don't want that! I can't imagine my life without you in it! You've always been there and I... haven't I lost enough people already? How many more goodbyes must I say?"

"We mustn’t think like that. One day we'll be together again!" Peter thinks optimistically.

This isn't fair. None of this is fair! In choosing Narnia, in choosing a different life for myself, I'm losing my best friend. I'm losing the one person who kept me going, who gave me a reason to survive.

"I love you," I cry.

Peter grins at my words, a faint and joyful chuckle escapes between his teeth. "And I’ve always loved you, perhaps I always will. We’ll never lose that, even across worlds."

I nod repeatedly, holding onto every syllable. I pray and hope, that he's right. Peter pulls me into his chest and I wrap my arms around him for dear life. I grip the fabric of his loose shirt in my fists. His hand cradles my head as he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Do the ones we love ever truly leave us? Is the memory of them strong enough to keep us going in their absence? I doubt a day will pass by where Peter doesn't cross my mind or any of the Pevensies for that matter.

Now that our time has officially run out, I say my goodbyes to each of the Pevensies. I'm not just saying goodbye to Peter's siblings, each of them has become family to me. Lucy and Susan cry with me as the three of us hug each other. Edmund does his best not to show emotion, but I can see behind his stone hard expression that he's holding back. His tight embrace is enough evidence as well.

When the moment comes for the Pevensies to return to London, I hold onto Peter's hand as I approach the tree with them. His siblings walk a step ahead as Peter walks backward to face me. Until the last second, we hold on.

"Someday," I nod, as though I'm making a promise that one day we'll see each other again.

He nods, agreeing to the vow. "Someday."

Our hands begin to slip as Peter backs away toward the cliff between the tree halves and my breath hitches in my throat. I stare into his sea-glass eyes and the seconds travel rapidly by. In a blink, he's gone, disappeared from my world.

A gasp escapes my lips at the sight. My arm falls to my side as tears glide down my cheeks. My heart sinks as reality hits me that I'll never see Peter ever again as long as we're alive. An arm wraps around my waist, supporting me. Caspian appears in my peripheral vision as my eyes remain locked on the open space beneath the tree.

"I've got you," he assures. "It’ll be okay."

I know..." I swallow hard, my face becomes blank other than the tears falling down my cheeks. "But for right now it's agony."

"This too shall pass. You did right by your heart today, be proud," Aslan encourages.

I glance toward the lion, "so I was right?"

"You were never wrong," he smiles.

"I can’t believe you stayed," Caspian confesses beside me.

I look at the boy with a sigh of relief. "I can't either, but it feels right," I smile softly.

Despite everything, the painful goodbye, the uncertainty, I know I'm where I'm meant to be now. I couldn't leave. I wasn't sure until Peter was guiding me to the tree. I would've done anything to stay.  

"Now we have all the time in the world!" Caspian gleams, over the moon.

Seeing him so happy eases my emotions. He's right, now we have all we could ever need, more time.

"That’s all I ever wanted," I grin.

His lips part as his eyes scan my face. Gently, his hand brushes across my cheek, and I lean into his touch as my eyes fall shut. Now, when I close my eyes and envision the riverbank, he's there beside me. It was him all this time.

"Y/N? My Love," he mutters.

"Hm?" I hum contently as my eyes flicker open to meet his jet-black ones.

"Marry me," he states with certainty and determination.

Bewildered, my eyes widen. Marry him?! Be...Become Queen of Narnia?! 

A sea of gasps and murmuring travel across the crowd. I shift my eyes to them, analyzing various faces. Then, I glance at Aslan. The lion narrows his eyes at me as he wears a soft smile. He wants me to make this decision for myself. He's certain I make it on my own. His words repeat in my mind, 'you were never wrong.' Is this the purpose he speaks of? Is this why I was called here? 

Destiny is a funny thing. 

Blinking rapidly, I inhale sharply and turn my attention back to Caspian who awaits my answer eagerly. He smiles brightly with raised brows. Our eyes meet and I decide instantly, perhaps I already knew my decision.

"Yes,” I answer without a moment’s hesitation. 

Caspian releases a sigh of relief, his grin never fading. In a moment of impulse, I extend my neck and bring my lips to his. My fingers glide to the back of his neck, bringing him in closer. He deepens the kiss as he cups my face urgently. I smile into the kiss and he does the same, both of us over the moon. 

Finally, we have time, something we thought we’d never have. Now, we have forever. 

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Masterlist

Tags:  @blackbirddaredevil23​ @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw @whiskeywinter89​ @i-hav-no-life​

#narnia #narnia imagine #prince capsian x reader #caspian x reader #prince caspian #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #peter #lucy pevensie