#i keep turning reblogs on and off because people keep wanting to be insufferable on this post

[obsessedelusional]

bane of your existence

paring ↬ Abby Anderson x fem!reader

summary ↬ Isaac pairs you with hard headed, Abby Anderson. She can’t keep a patrol partner to safe her life. That is until she meets you, the two of you slowly become close. Maybe a little too close because apparently everyone thinks the two of you are an item.

word count ↬ 2k

authors note ↬ first Abby oneshot omg!! I am so far up Abby Andersons ass that legally I have no choice but to write for her. Here’s a cute lil fluffy moment. I got more stuff in the works, hope y’all enjoy ᜊ☻︎

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated!! ((poorly proofread))

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

“Wake up.”

You groan and turn your back to insufferable voice that wakes you up way too damn early everyday. It’s a lost cause there’s a pair of hands shaking you gently. Which is strange because normally they’re a lot rougher with you.

“What time is it?” You ask still not facing her.

“5:45.”

“We don’t have to be there till eight. Why are you awake so damn early?” You snap, sitting up in your bunk. Facing the bane of your existence, Abby Anderson. Or so you pretend secretly enjoying her constant annoyance.

“Couldn’t sleep. So I thought it’d be best we head out early to catch the scars off guard.” Abby explains, stood there arms crossed looking down at you.

—

Three months ago the two of you we’re partnered for patrol. You didn’t know much about her before that, only the negative comments you heard from coworkers. Abby didn’t have the nicest personality and that often rubbed people the wrong way. Her hard headed ways make her nearly impossible to work with. Doesn’t help her case that when she’s not working she alone in some corner of the base, nose in a book. Often ignoring anyone’s attempt at a conversation. Only friendly to the people she joined the WLF with and half those relationships strained by the past.

Isaac thought your positive attitude would rub off on Abby. Buttering you up with compliments about your ability to not take anyones shit, calling you stubborn without using the word. Then talking about how she’s been through several partners in the last year, the longest lasting less than a month. Ever since Manny left his position to do something else, leaving her alone.

By the end he was borderline begging and following it up with apologies. You walked out of his office filled with curiosity about this mysterious women. The next day Abby was in your room uninvited and waking you up way too early. Somehow you’ve lasted this long and now you’re roommates. Manny moving out of bunk to be with his girlfriend and you having no roommate, Isaac made the decision to room you two together. Which only made Abby’s presence more constant.

Which is fine for the most part, you’d never admit it but part of you enjoys it. The constant bickering is fun and sometimes Abby lets a side of her personality slip you’ve never seen before. The two of you unintentionally becoming friends, which Abby would never say out loud. She even started hanging out with your friends. Probably spending an entirely too much time together, people began to take notice.

—

You stand up from your bed and make the short walk to your dresser, finding your work clothes for the day. Abby sits in a chair, fumbling with her backpack as an attempt to not watch you undress. You had caught Abby’s eyes lingering one second too long the first week. You looked back at Abby and her eyes were so obviously on your ass. She looked up a second later and saw you smirking. That was the end of that and now she does everything in her power to not get caught. Today you quickly get ready, sensing Abby’s eagerness to leave.

“Hurry up.” She says as you’re almost done.

“Why are you in such a hurry? We’re going to be two hours early at this point.” You ask, irritated.

“Quit complaining.” She spits.

“Quit being such a hard ass.” You spit back. Abby only rolls her eyes in response, so you add: “I don’t want to hear shit about my bad attitude today.”

“You always have a bad attitude.” Abby says, with a small grin.

“Do not.” You scoff at her comment.

“Do too.”

“Never did before. I think you’re starting to rub off on me. Or maybe it’s cause I keep getting waken up before my alarm has a chance to go off.” You explain, grabbing your backpack and pulling it on.

“What? You don’t like waking up early?” Abby ask, playfully already knowing the answer. Part of her loving to hear you complain.

“No.”

“Morning patrols aren’t that bad. You wake up early get off early. Have the rest of the day to do stuff.” Abby explains, trying to make you feel better.

“Yeah maybe. But I usually end up working even longer because you want to get out of here early. An eight hour shift turns into a nine or ten hour shift. One day you had me out there for twelve hours Abby.” You retort, bitterness heavy in your tone.

“You are the moodiest person in this entire base.” Abby says.

“Wasn’t before.” You speak flatly causing Abby to smile, getting closer.

“You’re such a brat.” She says, smile never leaving her mouth.

“Whatever. I know you like it.” You respond, smiling back at Abby.

“How bout we make a deal? You try to not be a brat today and I’ll try to not be such a hard ass.” Abby suggests, laughing as she squeezes your cheeks together as if you were a child.

“I don’t think I’m capable.” You speak. Abby’s hands smooshing your cheeks together. Pulling away to put one finger on your lips, shushing you.

“Just try, okay?” Abby asks, looking down at you with a pout and those damn eyes that’ll get you to do anything.

“Ughh I guess but only since you asked so nicely.” You respond suddenly hitting you that Abby is being way nicer than normal. What is her deal today?

“Really?” She grins.

“Yes let’s go.” Abby chuckles and then grabs your hand, gently nudging you forward. She’s slowly become more touchy since the two do you met but this takes it to a whole another level. When the two of you leave the room she doesn’t let go. You let the both of you walk a few feet before stopping in your tracks and looking at your hands intertwined.

“Are you holding my hand?” You question, causing Abby to realize and her face goes pink.

“Huh? Oh.. uhm.. I guess I am.” She awkwardly smiles, still not letting go.

“I mean I don’t mind. Just know you wouldn’t want to give everybody the wrong impression.” You respond, slightly traumatized from the first time you tried to sit with her in the mess hall and she went off on you about how she didn’t want anyone to think you were her friend.

“Pfft. They already think we’re in a relationship, or we will be sometime soon. What’s the harm in holding your hand?” Abby says casually, rolling her eyes as if your concern is ridiculous. She attempts to keep walking but you’re stood still, not willing to end this conversation so soon.

“They think that?” You ask.

“Yeah, they do. You should hear them gossiping during dinner. It’s all about us.” Abby says looking down at you and laughing slightly.

“How have I never heard this?” You question.

“It’s because you always head directly for you bunk room to rest after dinner. They’ll start talking about us as soon as you leave.” She explains as if this isn’t a big deal.

“What else do they say?”

“Oh. Uhm... they mainly talk about your... uh.... assets.. yeah.. that’s it.” She blushed slightly thinking about it.

“My assets? Ew.” You cringe at the thought.

“Hey I think your... ‘assets’ are fine.” She smirks, face somehow more red than before. You eyes go wide in response, it’s a rare occasion that Abby says something nice. Let alone a compliment that borders on flirting.

“Are you flirting with me?” You ask because you never know with her and you need to desperately make sense of what’s happening.

“Errr.. ummmm.. no I am not.” She nervously looks away, couldn’t help but start chuckling at her own awkwardness.

“Abby Anderson. You totally-.” You say, teasingly poking at her chest. She puts her hands over your mouth as an attempt to shush you.

“They probably think that because we work together, hang out and live together. We’re always together.” She explains trying to change the subject from her flirty comment.

“Or do they think this because you said something? Planted it in there head.” You ask, teasing as you pull Abby’s hand away from your mouth.

“Ok I may have said something. Which turned it into a whole thing.” She admits.

“Something?” You ask curiously.

“They were making some crude comments about your body. And one of them joked that I would know. I may or may not have agreed that I would know.” Abby explains, part of her embarrassments that she entertained them for even a second. In the end being grateful because them think you two were an item got them to shut up. The teasing now focused on Abby, wanting to know more about said relationship that didn’t actually exist.

“Are you mad..?” She looks at you, still holding your hand as you both walked down a long staircase to an area outside of the stadium.

“No it’s kinda cute.” You smile.

“You think it’s cute that they all think we’re in love?” She laughs.

“Yeah but just because you made them think that. No wonder Manny’s been teasing me about you.” You explain, connecting the dots as you speak.

“He’s been teasing you?”

“Yeah always telling me my *girlfriends* looking for me. Shit like that.”

“Your girlfriend?!” She grins at the thought before adding. “Well I am looking for you all the time.”

“Apparently you’re obsessed with me.” You joke, laugh leaving your mouth.

“I am. Just a little bit.” Abby responds, leading you out of the stadium and to where everyone starts patrols. Still holding your hand. As the two of you exit the stadium, you notice that Isaac is standing outside with a small group of people. He immediately takes notice of the two of you holding hands. Making a face as he looked back at the patrol, saying something inaudible to the them.

“Oooh does Abby have a girlfriend?” Manny hollers before laughing. Abby’s face is filled with so many emotions and before you can say anything Isaac’s say something.

“It’s about damn time. I was starting to think the two of you didn’t have feelings for each other after all.” He smiles.

“Can we start this patrol so I can stop be the center of attention?” Abby asks, ignoring everything everyone’s said.

“Or so you two can be alone?” Manny teases, causing everyone to laugh.

“Shut up.” Abby growls, pulling you away from everyone. You wave goodbye at everyone as Abby drags you away to start the patrol. Manny gives you two thumbs up which only adds to Abby’s irritation.

“You never answered. Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask teasing, curious about her answer.

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“You’re gonna have to ask for yourself and find out.” You tease causing Abby to groan outloud.

“You’re really gonna make me ask?” She asks, followed by rolling her eyes.

“Yeah.” You smirk, wanting the word to come out Abby’s mouth.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” She says annoyed.

“Mmm I’ll have to think about it.” You joke, watching Abby get more annoyed. “Just kidding yeah.” You laugh, finally bringing a smile to Abby’s face. Before you could register what’s happening Abby is stopped, pressing her lips into yours. You kiss back for a few moments, Abby eventually being the one to pull away.

“That was amaizng.” Abby purrs.

“Mhmm.” You smile, nodding.

“Just cause we’re dating now. Don’t think I’m gonna be any less of a hard ass.” Abby says, going back to her annoying self.

“We’ll see about that.” You tease, walking ahead of Abby. Abby grabs your wrist pulling you back to her. Abby grins kissing you again, knowing damn well she’d do whatever you asked.

#abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2

[gender-isafuck]

I wanted to say, that I’m pro-Palestine, pro-peace really, anti-war. That’s how I was raised, I’ve spent my life surrounded by historians who are a bit anti-yankee.I can’t do much more for this conflict, except spread kindness. I feel like it’s silly to just reblog pictures of martyrs on the internet, it borders on porno-misery.

But I want to say, I hope you know, most of my community doesn’t think Israelis or Jews should die.

I hate when people scream nonsense, and just ask for Israelis to die on the internet when we’re trying to defend and free Palestinians from a genocide.

I feel like such calls radicalise people on both sides of this conflict and radicalisations lead to world wars. Yes fighting for a cause must be done relentlessly but let’s not forget to be kind, to have empathy.

I wanted to say that, because I went through your blog, and no, most people with sense doesn’t want to see more dead or displaced people. I’ve only read one book on jew history by Paul Johnson, which doesn’t make me an expert or even knowledgable, but I can see why you think it’s the world against the jew community.

I want to see a free Palestine, and for people to stop dying from carpet bombings, I want to see peace in the middle east. I want to see a two state solution and Israelis and Palestinians living peacefully and safe, but what power do I have in all of this?

All I want to say is, I do see the Israeli suffering, the hostages, and the threat of terrorism. And insufferable losses. I don’t think you are all represented by what the western news and internet trolls say.

Please don’t succumb to anger and hate, anger turns us mean and blind to suffering. (That can be say to both pro palestinians and pro israel) and someone has to give and break a cycle of violence that started since even before the egyptians.

And have some kindness, maybe the internet doesn’t keep the best of people fighting for palestine. And let’s be honest, tiktok is just plain stupid. So don’t forget the others on the opposite side of this conflict, even if sometimes people will wish you merry christmas by accident, is not done out of malice. 😅 I’m agnostic, so I don’t really celebrate.

I like to think people are generally good. So this is me, wishing you a good day. Thanks for letting me rant in your askbox.

i think you might be looking at your community through rose colored glasses.

i appreciate your kindness but with the massove rose in antisemitic hate crimes using palestine as their excuse the free palestine movement has kinda become the new "the jews killed jesus"

and while i understand why you would tell me to be empathetic and not succumb to anger and hate, i cant rly control my emotions in response to things this completely life shattering. i dont hate palestinians, i have made this clear, but i cannot be empathetic to them on any level. it doesnt matter at all. i see what you were trying to do here but it honestly doesnt come off very well

[meetmymouth]

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #concepts #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #babyurthendofjune #ask

[kageruna]

☆.｡.:* Kageyama, Sugawara, Kuroo, and Bokuto with a clingy and affectionate s/o .｡.:*☆

Warnings: None!

Genre: Fluff

Reader: Gender neutral

A/n: This is my first post that’s like this so sorry if this turns out bad! I’m still new to the writing platform so I hope I’ll be able to learn about it more the more I’m here! There is a cursed amount of pleading emojis and i can already tell that that’s gonna be a theme in my fics so sorry in advance if emojis make you frustrated or uncomfortable <3

Kageyama Tobio

➷ is a very flustered bb boy!!!

➷ at first he doesn’t know what to do and just freezes and shoves you off of him without thinking it through (he quickly regrets it but he freezes even further and doesn’t know what to do ksjdnfi)

➷ you might be a little bit shocked and bummed out and it’s ok to feel that way!!! you want attention from your gorgeous boyfriend after all 😤

➷ however he’s also trying his best!!! he hasn’t had this much physical affection before so it’ll take some getting used to!! he’ll try extremely hard to overcome it soon and give you the love and attention you deserve tho!! awwww what a sweet bb

➷ he’ll DEFINITELY still be prickly sometimes even later on into the relationship and not be 100% comfortable unless you’ve been in the relationship for a long time

➷ he still gives you the hugs and cuddles and lets you be clingy but especially if it’s in public, he won’t immediately melt into your embrace or indulge you 100% :(

➷ he’ll let you cling onto his arm whenever you guys are walking around or doing anything together but he’s desperately trying to hide his embarrassment with a scowl and bright red cheeks and ears 🥺🥺🥺

➷ he’ll give you little hugs of reassurances and maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get little kisses on the head in public but he’ll still be extremely flushed 😭😭

➷ he’s even more open in private tho 🥺

➷ he’ll rather die than have his teammates see him being extremely mushy and lovey-dovey with you so he’ll save those really cute moments for when you guys are together alone <3

➷ further into the relationship he’ll open up and will be a lot more comfortable with you!! he’ll be less reserved and indulge you even more in public ❤️

➷ when he gets more comfortable in the relationship, he’ll even start being clingy too and it’s the most adorable thing ever because even though he still wants to cuddle or hug you spontaneously he’ll be quiet about it and have the cutest little blush on his face and a little pout 🥺

➷ it’ll be really really obvious that he wants attention even if he’s trying to be secretive about it so please indulge him 

➷ he wants little kithes and huggies too 😤😤

➷ you guys are such a cute couple, people either look at you while cooing or with a look of exasperation because it’s THAT obvious that you guys are madly in love with each other <333

Sugawara Koushi

➷ he will be clingy RIGHT BACK AT YOU

➷ even if you guys are just starting your relationship, if you’re already so comfortable with him and are able to be your true clingy self with him then he’s totally gonna be his own clingy self too because the openness makes him so extremely happy!!

➷ it reassures him that you really do want to be with him and are willing to be vulnerable around him awwwwww 🥺

➷ once you guys are hugging or cuddling, it’s over. you guys will be stuck like glue until you physically can’t be with each other anymore KSJFIU

➷ he pouts when you guys have to stop being with each other 😭

➷ if he could, he would just hug you for all of eternity

➷ he loves you THAT much

➷ he LOVES pda as well 🥺

➷ he won’t care if he’s inside his room, in the middle of a crowded area, in school, wherever

➷ he can and WILL hug you and be just as clingy as you with him

➷ honestly a match made in heaven

➷ even later on in the relationship, you guys never change

➷ you both will still be just as clingy as the beginning of it and it’s honestly so cute 🥺🥺

➷ of course, this is suga though so he’s gonna be chaotic at some points

➷ he’ll tickle you, blow raspberries onto your skin, shift around a lot just to slightly annoy you, and other things that that playful brain of his thinks up of

➷ sometimes you just want to cuddle without any distraction but lo and behold, he’s gonna still tease you

➷ however, if you genuinely need a cuddle session without any distractions, he’ll totally give you the cuddle session you want

➷ because he’s such a tease sometimes, you decide to get your own revenge sometimes >:)

➷ you’ll act all innocent and he’ll come to you wanting hugs and cuddles but at the last possible second, you’ll move out of the way so that he stumbles into the couch or sofa or wherever you have your cuddle session

➷ his reaction is priceless

➷ anyways you guys are INSEPARABLE when you start hugging and cuddling and honestly people look at you guys with such genuine envy in their eyes because they wish they could be in such a cute relationship like yours 😌

Kuroo Tetsurou

➷ he teases you SO MUCH

➷ it’s honestly insufferable at some points KSJDNFI

➷ like you just want to be clingy and affectionate with your boyfriend that’s IT!! 😤😤😤 why can’t you just hug him peacefully like you want to?? 😭😭

➷ even with all of the teasing tho, he loves it 🥺🥺

➷ in public you’ll always be really close to him no matter what and even though he teases you for “not wanting to get lost and needing a guardian with you” and other bs like that, he has such a sappy smile on his face he’s barely older or even YOUNGER than you in the first place stop acting like as if your s/o is a child kuroo 😡

➷ yes he might tease you like there’s no tomorrow but he secretly enjoys how clingy you are

➷ you notice and are fully aware of it and try SO HARD for him to admit it but his teasing self just simply can not

➷ he will though when you’re having a really slow day and are actually cuddling without him being annoying teasing

➷ those moments make you SWOON oh my god 😩

➷ he also becomes super affectionate and it’s the CUTEST THING EVER

➷ you cup each other’s face and give each other little kisses all over and hug each other until you have to let go 🥺🥺🥺

➷ sometimes he even becomes the clingier one and you pull away from him and tease him back just to get back at him for all he’s done to you 😈

➷ he’ll pout and beg you until you give. he will literally NOT stop begging until he gets what he wants he’s so spoiled

➷ one time you tried to resist for 30 minutes but LITERALLY THE WHOLE 30 MINUTES HE WAS WHINING FOR YOU TO COME BACK AND CUDDLE WITH HIM

➷ he’s so whiny and spoiled when he gets like that but he’s your whiny and spoiled baby ❤️

➷ people always laugh because of your relationship but they all know that it’s all sickly lovey-dovey friendly banter between you guys <333 they WISH they can have a relationship as fun and loving as yours 😼

Bokuto Koutarou

➷ HE ADORES IT

➷ god he LOVES how clingy you are

➷ he will be TWICE as clingy as you no joke

➷ usually it’s the other party needing you to get off of them but with Bokuto, it’s the other way around 

➷ he’s so so happy that you’re just as physically affectionate and that you want to be with him just as much as he wants to be with you 🥺🥺🥺

➷ he almost never gets into emo modes when you’re with him 

➷ i mean why would he go emo if the literal light of his life is right there next to him???

➷ exactly

➷ like suga, he does NOT care where you guys are. you both will be extremely clingy and affectionate wherever with little to no regard of the people around you guys

➷ he wants you to know that you’re his number 1 so he’ll keep his attention on you all the time 😭🥺

➷ of course you do the same for him because he’s literally the sweetest person you’ll ever meet how would you NOT always keep your attention on him??

➷ you guys also peck each other’s lips whenever you meet it’s SO CUTE

➷ your cuddle sessions are the sweetest thing ever oh my GOD my heart is literally hurting so much and i’m almost tearing up i want to cuddle with him SO BADLY 🥺

➷ he has the most secure, loving arms and when he wraps them around you with all the love he can possibly give, you practically melt

➷ he basically does the same whenever you wrap your arms around him too 🥺🥺 he’ll literally be smiling like such a dork you can only watch in complete awe at this beautiful man

➷ all of that love is just for you and you alone and you don’t know just how lucky you got

➷ and he’s the exact same with you

➷ everyone wishes for the type of relationship you have with bokuto <333 it’s literally perfect, you guys love each other so much words can not even describe it ❤️

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading ♡

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #haikyuu x reader #kageyama #kageyama tobio #sugawara #sugawara koushi #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto #bokuto koutarou #fluff #haikyuu fluff #kageyama fluff #sugawara fluff #kuroo fluff #bokuto fluff #clingy reader #affectionate reader #clingy and affectionate reader

[spasmsofthought]

rituals. (zuko x water tribe!reader)

+This turned out to be far longer than I anticipated it to be, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I’m sorry if Zuko feels out of character; I tried my best to not make him so. I wrote him in my mind to be older than 16 and with, at least, a year of Fire Lord experience with him. All of the things he says in this fic may not be completely on point, but I hope I made sense of his character in this situation and kept an accurate frame of reference for you to hold onto! 

I’ve been thinking: What would it have been like to marry the Fire Lord if you were an outsider, from another nation/element? And where that question led me is what produced this. 

I tried my best to have accurate research, but if something’s off or wrong, please kindly let me know! I’m not an expert about the fandom here. 

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this mess of fluffy Fire Lord Zuko and a Water Tribe OC just trying to navigate the way between two different cultures. 

Read Part II here! 

Like, comment, reblog! 

--

“Thank you.” You smile softly as some Fire Palace officials make their way out of the giant, ornate room. Their faces are more stoic, but there is one older man who gives you a slight quirk of his lips before they are back in a thin line. He’s been the only one who has been semi-kind to you. The rest of them have just been rigid and downright insufferable. It takes a few moments before their footsteps recede and you are surrounded by silence. 

It turns out that the Fire Lord asking you to become his wife comes with a lot more than you thought it would. 

And of course, you had never been blind to the fact that Zuko is of royal lineage. His family has passed down the title and office of Fire Lord for generations. The people of the Fire Nation have known this family for over a century. 

The blood definitely feels thicker than water here, though Zuko’s own familial situation may testify against that. 

How naïve of you to think any of this would be simple and easy. Nothing about this past century has been.

You press your head to the solid table beneath you, hand-crafted and polished so that it shines like the stars you remember seeing at night back home. Frustration and stress knit your shoulders together, your arms curling in towards your midsection.  

Deep breath in, the voice of your mother reminds you. You can barely remember her face now, lost to time, but her voice still somehow stays clear. You hope it stays that way for a long time. Now let it go, she says, too. 

If you close your eyes, you can almost picture your little family’s home. The sea squid hanging out to dry so that it can be prepared for supper and her bed disheveled but lined with furs that keep you both warm at night and during the coldest days. It’s probably empty now, a home to no one. 

You exhale, forehead still pressed against the table. You repeat the process a few more times, trying to somehow expel the tightness of your shoulders. The weight stays. Despite whatever you may lose,  being with Zuko is the closest to home you will ever feel now. 

You get up from your seated position at the table and move to a window, looking down at the picturesque landscape of a quiet pond garden. You lean against a pillar supporting the ceiling and try to absorb yourself in the peaceful scenery. You close your eyes and try to listen to the sound of the soft breeze rustling the leaves of the tree. You just want it all to go away for a second.

“Have they exhausted you yet?” A gravelly voice behind you asks. 

You turn to see Zuko standing in the open doorway. He’s dressed in all his formal attire, of course, but he seems to carry his own weight on his shoulders today. 

Idiot, you think, of course he looks stressed and weighed down. He’s trying to re-establish peace among four nations after the 100-year war his ancestor started. 

“Yeah, sure.” You mumble and smile softly. 

The moment doesn’t last long before you turn back to the pond, stomach churning now. The grief and the stress mingle together. You miss home, you miss the weather and wearing your furs. You miss your parents, who have been gone for four years; your father to the war and your mother to sickness. The ache never seems to go away, but it dulls when Zuko is able to be around. 

Zuko makes his way to stand beside you, saying nothing as he directs his gaze also to the peaceful pond, undisturbed by people or the noise of the outside world. 

Despite what you had been told about the Fire Nation your whole life growing up, and what you’d been told about Zuko during the War, you’d always appreciated when he did this. Despite his title and the lineage he carries, he’s always treated you like an equal. You are no less to him because you are female, and you are no less to him because you come from the Water Tribe. 

If it had been a few years ago, you wonder if he would have thought differently. Or perhaps he has always been able to understand honor more than most since he was a child, and that was part of the reason he was the one who was destined to be Fire Lord all along. 

You take in the side profile of his face for a moment, trying to gather the strength you’ve always had inside you.  

“I don’t want to worry you,” You begin, turning back to the view of the pond. 

It’s still and quiet and sounds like a great place to escape to in this present moment. 

“I’ll let you know when I can’t handle it,” His sardonic tone answers back. 

You know he means it as a joke, but there’s a stark truth to his words. He’s handled much more than a trivial conversation about what may be bothering you.

You take a moment to organize your thoughts so that you don’t come across as an emotional train wreck. Zuko has always seemed to have infinite patience with you while you express your emotions, but emotional intelligence is new to him as well. You don’t want to burden him with trying to figure out your emotions while he’s trying to cope with and understand his own. 

“I just... I didn’t know how difficult this would be.” 

“What?” He sounds a bit surprised. 

“Adopting your culture as my own,” Zuko opens his mouth but you stop him before he can even begin. “From a shallow frame of reference, I had always known your culture and your people would be different than mine. And the time I spent traveling back and forth from the Water Tribe to here when I was only your girlfriend gave me some exposure, but I didn’t know. Not really. Most of your people have been so indoctrinated by nationalistic propaganda that our union wouldn’t have really even been conceivable a few years ago.” 

There’s another moment of silence as you take a breath and exhale it. In and out. Zuko doesn’t try to interrupt the moment with platitudes or words of comfort, and that’s another thing you’ve grown to love about him. 

He doesn’t say something he doesn’t mean. It’s not in his nature to do so. 

In allowing each of you to struggle with the weight of your words and emotions, he honors your emotions without dismissing them. Sometimes, it leaves you speechless because the practice is so ingrained in him, there are times he doesn’t even notice he does it. 

“I can adapt. That’s not what I’m worried about. My people are strong because we are so willing to adapt to change, just like the ocean: strong and flexible. I can belong here without losing myself. I just don’t have anything to bring with me. There is no recognition of my culture, and since these meetings have started a few days ago, I get shut down every time I try to bring something into what should be the happiest day of my life.” 

You turn to him also and take a step closer. His expression remains neutral and you can tell it’s going to take some time for him to digest all of this. For a moment, you place your hands on his chest, clothed with the finest robes available in the Fire Nation. 

“When I said yes to your proposal, to the reality of a life with you, I meant it with all of my heart. I still do. But I have nothing tying me to my homeland or the place of my birth like you do here.”

He looks like he has a thousand things to say, but then the words fade away before they even make it out of his mouth. Zuko’s face turns back towards the outside, looking out at the pond as a soft breeze again disturbs the tree by the water. He always gets this look in his eyes when he’s in deep thought. The dilemma is less with him and his position as Fire Lord and more with how to integrate you in his world without making you “fit in” in ways you were never supposed to. 

“If I’ve learned anything over the past few years,” He begins, still standing straight and looking outside. “It’s that nothing in the world is right if there is no balance.” 

He reaches inside his formal robe and pulls out a box. Your brows furrow in confusion, because Zuko is not one to give gifts. 

“I was going to give this to you later, but it seems like the right time now.” He shrugs and hands you the box while a hand goes to rub his neck. 

He always does this when he feels shy or flustered. It’s kind of cute to see the “decisive Fire Lord” act like a teen aged boy. He had rare opportunity to act like one before. 

The box is like a square and a silk ribbon is tied around it. Your fingers work at the knot while you raise your eyebrow at him. You place the ribbon on the windowsill once it’s unraveled and gently pull the lid off the box. It may have looked inexpensive, but you never truly knew in the Fire Nation. 

The thing inside almost takes your breath away. It’s all blue, every single bit of it. 

It’s a betrothal necklace. 

You didn’t even know Zuko knew they existed, let alone what it would have meant in your culture if he gave you one. (Granted, he’s already asked you to marry him, but for the moment you dismiss the thought.) 

It’s true, most marriages are arranged by parents or parental figures in the Water Tribe. Most people at home are not as lucky as you have been to freely choose a partner, whether inside the Tribe or outside of it. Sometimes it seems a more hollowed out gesture when neither party is truly looking to get married for love. But the ones that do always give the necklace its meaning and purpose. 

“I asked Katara for some help,” He began to explain as you stare at the necklace. “I didn’t know what I was doing or where I should go, so she was the one who guided me. She gave me some ideas of what the carving in the stone should represent, but in the end, I came up with the design by myself.” 

Zuko rubs the back of his neck again as you glance between him and the necklace. 

The choker is dark blue as always, but the color gives you some semblance of peace. Blue isn’t a very prominent color displayed in the Fire Nation. Indeed, the stone fastened to the choker has already been carved into. The design is somehow intricate and simple at the same time. It is intimate without being gaudy or overdone. It is all blue and reflective of the culture you grew up in and the one you still carry with you. 

“You carved it yourself?” You whisper, not doubting the answer but still needing to ask it. Zuko just nods and your eyes well up with tears. He doesn’t even know how sacred this necklace is to you in a place where no one else will ever understand its full importance and meaning. 

“Will you put it on for me?” You hand the necklace to him as you also discard the box on the windowsill and turn your back to him. You’re thankful your hair is already tied back (still adorned with various blue beads from your background) as you sweep it to the side so Zuko can clasp the necklace around your neck. 

The weight of it is unfamiliar but grounding. It anchors you to the truth. It reminds you that no matter what marrying Zuko looks like, you carry your culture with you wherever you go. The way you treat others, hold yourself, and what you, hopefully, pass down to your children is far more important than what traditions you do or don’t adhere to in a ceremony. 

“I’ll talk to the officials,” He offers as he clasps the choker together. “You should be able to have all the customs that are important to you when we get married. You have always been my equal, but this time it will be a fact and not just an assumption.” 

You touch the stone with your fingers as you turn back to face him. The tears are already sliding down your cheeks, but you also give him a sweet close-lipped smile. He knows but he doesn’t. And that is what makes him so beautiful. 

You cup his face between your palms and feel him relax a little. Physical affection had never been a priority in his childhood or adolescence, but you can tell he’s starting to understand why you think it’s important to give and receive it. 

“Thank you,” You say, smiling wider. 

You close the distance and bring your mouth towards his. The kiss is steady and soft but also full of unrestrained emotion. Zuko gives you a second one before you both pull apart. He just shakes his head. 

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.” He whispers back as he brings you to his chest. 

He is home now, and that is what matters. 

#avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #atla #atla zuko #zuko x oc #zuko x reader #prince zuko #fire nation #water tribe #avatar the last airbender one shot #zuko one shot #zuko imagine #zuko #avatar: tla #fire lord zuko

[pocketramblr]

ah ha social media fic?

Anonymous asked:

Agh, I just saw KRP2 and I’m craving aus of it! Do you know any hero krp fics, or just any hero fics about getting adopted? thanks in advance

ChanglingCrown:

fic finders, foregather!

Featherweatherluck123:

Oh, if you want hero adoption fics, All Might is number one (pun intended lol)

There’s two BNFs who do it, SmallMight1541 and FireIs4Suckers on Ao5! SmallMight does a lot of worldbuilding and OCs and a lot of ‘everyman’ adoptees, but doesn’t technically do any reader adoption. (it’s totally easy to pretend tho lol). Fire4 does a few, though a lot are oc adoptions. He also uses more real hero characters.

My favorites are Scalpel Precision by SmallMight and Echoing House by Fire4!

Rosewater-sings:

oh come on, those are the biggest writers, there’s no way anon didn’t already know and read them. But if you want to promote some less popular but even better writers, there’s “The Dragon Princess of Japan” by DostThouEven-Hero and “Tending the garden of the heart” by RWSongstress

Speaker-Of-The-House-If-By-House-You-Mean-Tags:

hey changling what the heck is going on in the notes of this one???

[image description: a reply from @herecomethecannons-boom saying “ugh at least tag your stupid self promo so we don’t have to see you comparing yourself to the two best fic writers out there”]

[image description: a reblog from @jazzminetea saying “ok but @changlingcrown which is your favorite?????]

[image description: a reply from @shieldsupporterseven saying “7/?- and you’re being the instigator here, considering I’m a minor and you’re the one saying fireis4suckers isn’t a mega basher, which he is, I bet he’s a villain with all the hateboners he has for everyone but all might-“]

[image description: a reply from @maybemagnetohadapoint saying “’its just not realistic”??? girl its rpf I think we’re past that.”]

[image description: a reblog from @rocksolidreader saying “wow boom I just asked for a rec and you rated the ENTIRE catolog of BOTH authors that’s incredible I owe you my life and my lack of sleep]

[image description: a reply from @herecomethecannons-boom saying “don’t call me boom”]

[image description: a reply from @maximumdeviouslickz saying “I can’t believe you’d run a fic find for this one, I thought you were a great blog and writer but you’re supporting pedos so I hope you die in a fire.]

ChanglingCrown:

speaker, beloved, I don’t even know. I turned notifications off from this post last night and I’m about to delete it honestly. Im not even in the fandom I just get asks :///

FireIsForSuckers:

sorry its because @/TrueHeroWash stalks my tag and sent the post to like a million people to drag in discourse. I’d block them

ChanglingCrown:

thank u for the heads up but now that u’ve reblogged it I have to delete it the notes are insufferable

FireIsForSuckers:

understandable have a nice day

Featherweatherluck:

WAIT FIREIS4SUCKERS HAS A TUMBLR???

Speaker-Of-The-House-If-By-House-You-Mean-Tags:

[image description: ‘this post has everything’ meme.jpg]

#i am SO sorry bestie this has been a lot #honestly I don’t know how you’re strong enough to keep up the fic finds #long post

#i had to post something so have this #its the spiritual sucessor to Mutuals but instead izuku and shoto are fic writers #for gentry dearest #i'll write the whole oneshot eventually #my fic #my writing

[moldisgoodforyou]

insufferable

warning: it’s just smut. like a tiny hint of plot. but tiny.

because I reblogged this and was inspired:

______

“I’m not letting you pay for it, and that’s final.” Sophie stated, turning her back on Rafe.

They’d been arguing for a good half hour over breakfast after Rafe casually offered to pay for both the tickets for her sorority formal. It was expensive, admittedly, as her sorority sprung for the fancier venue at the botanical gardens downtown, along with hotel rooms and a stacked bar.

(‘Offered’ might be a generous way to put it - he had just handed her a signed, blank check, and told her to write in how much it turned out to be, along with the cost of her dress. Entirely caught off guard, she ripped it up and handed the shreds back to him.)

When they started drawing looks from their hissed arguing, Sophie abruptly changed the subject, refusing to talk about it when he tried to bring it up again in the restaurant. The rest of the meal was fairly tense, but they both did their best to keep it civil.

He’d driven her home, only for them to argue more in the car and again when he tried walking her to the door. “Sophie.” Rafe huffed, calling after her. “Sophie! Come on!”

She didn’t respond, just stalked off and let the side door of her sorority house slam shut behind her. She had to laugh, however, when her phone immediately chimed with a text from Rafe.

Rafe: Am I still coming over before we go out tonight

Sophie: As long as you don’t try to sugar daddy me again

Rafe: Don’t start

Sophie: I’ll see you at nine  

The argument stuck like a stubborn thorn in the back of both of their minds all day, but they didn’t text each other and bring it up again, knowing it was useless. He kept his promise and came over exactly at nine, drinks in hand and ready to go meet her roommates at a house party. She wasn’t ready yet - running late, like always - and had him come up to her room instead. He sat on her bed as she changed, drinking a White Claw while he waited.

Rafe grumbled, seeing her outfit. “You’re gonna wear that?”

She wore a sheer black square-necked top with a black bra underneath, not hiding much. She paired it with a black leather skirt that flared out a little, just under her ass. Sophie paused, looking at herself in the mirror, then unclipped the bra and shimmied out of it, keeping her top on. “No, you’re right, this is better.”

He shut his eyes, taking a slow, dramatic inhale. “Sophie Flint.”

She put both hands on her hips and turned to face him. “What.”

He glared at her, knowing she was just trying to test his limits. “Put the damn bra back on.”

“No. I look good.” She walked over to him, stepping in between his legs.

Rafe shook his head as he looked up at her, setting his drink aside. “You’re insufferable.”

She quirked her brow, holding back a smirk. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

He reached up and palmed her breast, satisfied when her eyes fluttered shut as he brushed his thumb over her nipple. “You did this on purpose.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Oh, look, we have a fucking genius here.”

That was enough to set him over the edge and he grabbed her around the waist, swiftly pulling her down to his lap. Their lips crashed together and she straddled him right away, rolling her hips over him. He cursed and bit her bottom lip, not being gentle in the slightest.

She gasped, her hands finding her way to the hem of his shirt right away and she tugged up. “Off, I want this off.”

“Demanding.” Rafe quipped, but pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. He flipped them over easily and caught both her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head. “Will you be good?”

A little caught off guard by his commanding nature, Sophie blinked up at him with wide eyes. “You’re gonna leave a mark.” She murmured.

He immediately loosened his grip on her, sitting up a little to give her some space. “Shoot, sorry, am I hurting you?”

“No, um. You don’t have to be gentle all the time.” She pressed her hips up into his and shook her head quickly, cheeks burning red as she clarified. “I like it.”

“Fuck, Soph.” He cursed and leaned back down to kiss her hard, bruising. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” She moaned quietly as he kissed along her jawline and down her neck, keeping her wrists pinned in place. “You can’t die, I don’t like fighting with anyone else.”  

“That’s all I’m good for?” He nipped at her collarbone, enjoying when she squirmed under him. “Sometimes I like you better when you’re moaning.”

“I like you better when your mouth is occupied.” She snapped back, pushing her hips against him again to try and find any friction. He let go of her wrists, only to fiddle with the clasp of her skirt. Sophie reached to pull off her top, but he knocked her hands away. “Keep this sad excuse of a shirt on.”

She lifted her hips for him to tug her skirt down her legs. “Thought you didn’t like it.”

“I like it just fine, I don’t want other people seeing you in it.”

Her next sassy response died in her throat as he grabbed her panties in both hands and ripped them clean in half. He kissed up her thighs, using one forearm across her hips to pin her in place.

“You’re buying me a new pair.” She breathed out, only a little delayed.

“Oh, so now you’ll let me buy you things?” He kissed everywhere but where she wanted it, feather-light, and she whined, trying to move her hips toward him. “A ten-dollar pair of underwear is not the same thing as what you were trying to do.” When he nipped teasingly at her hipbone, her shirt now pushed all the way up her stomach, she huffed. “Rafe, please.”

“Patience, angel.” He admonished, but brought two fingers up to her anyway, teasingly stroking around her entrance. She let her head fall back when he slipped them inside of her and he reached up and grabbed her chin with his free hand, ultra commanding. “Eyes on me.”  

She nodded quickly and bit her lip hard to stifle her next moan, trying her hardest not to let her eyes flutter shut at the pleasure.

“I want to hear you.” Rafe pressed his thumb against her clit, smirking when she gasped. “Can’t. You’re not - fuck - not allowed up here.” She bit out, having trouble speaking with the way he was moving his fingers against her. When he withdrew his fingers just as she was on the edge, she whined, reaching for him. “Wait, no, I was close.”

“Always so fucking whiny for me.” He grinned and pressed his fingers to her lips. She opened obediently, sucking on them until they were clean. “Good girl.”

“I want you.” Sophie told him meaningfully, reaching for his belt buckle. He stood just long enough to kick his pants to the floor while she reached over and grabbed a condom from the nightstand, handing it to him. He wasted no time in rolling it on and nudging her back to lie down. “You okay?” 

“Yes, fine, shut up.” 

He laughed, lining his hips up against hers. “That’s no way to talk to someone you love.” 

“Had to remind myself I’m still mad at you.” She informed him, but gasped sharply anyways as he pushed into her unexpectedly. He waited for her nod to start thrusting into her, gripping her hips hard enough to leave a mark. “Just let me pay for my half. At least.” 

“You’re not seriously -  ohh.” She breathed out, letting her head fall back. “This isn’t fair.” 

He stopped abruptly, though it pained him a little. “I can quit and we can keep arguing.” 

“No, no, please don’t stop.” She whimpered, wrapping an arm around his back to pull him closer to her. He nodded and kept going, bringing one hand in between them to play with her clit. “My half and your dress.” 

“Rafe, fuck, please.” 

“All of it, then.” He groaned, trying his best to keep himself fairly quiet (though her creaky bed was a dead giveaway). 

“Just half.” She bit back a moan, squirming under him. “You’re evil for bringing this up now.” 

“Devil to my angel.” He smirked. 

“Don’t stop.” Sophie mumbled against his shoulder, arching her back as he hit the perfect spot. “Shh, shh.” He soothed. When she finally came, biting against his shoulder to keep herself quiet, he came shortly after, hips stuttering against hers. The two lay in silence for a moment, breathing heavily against each other. 

“I think we’re late to the party.” Rafe quipped. 

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’re not going to the fucking party. We both need a shower.” 

He whined, letting his head fall to her shoulder. “But I can’t shower here.” 

“No, you’ll have to go home.” She agreed, combing her fingers through his long, floppy hair. “Wanna sleep with you.” He mumbled, always extra cuddly after sex. “Maybe you don’t deserve to sleep with me, trying to sabotage me in a fight.” She pointed out. 

He lifted his head quickly, kissing her cheek. “No, c’mon. Not fair, let me stay.” 

She laughed at his near-whiny tone. “I’ll shower here, you go home and shower, then I’ll come over and stay with you. Deal?” 

“So inconvenient.” He grumbled, but reluctantly stood, pulling on his clothes. “Promise you’ll come over right away?” 

“Promise.” Sophie smiled, leaning over to meet him in a quick kiss. “Get out of here.” 

“Wait, Soph.” He paused just at the door, giving her a goofy grin. “Will you bring that soft blanket?” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”  

“You just fucked me like that and now you're asking me to bring over a blanket for you to sleep with?” 

He grinned, sheepish. “Exactly. See you soon, love you!” He waved quickly before leaving, sneaking out of the house. He had barely left before seeing a text from Sophie - 

better not fall asleep before I’m there. love you too.

#i did not edit #not one bit #and i know it's late but i'm posting and running #like didn't even proofread #maybe i will reblog later #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks fanfic #outer banks smut #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

[jackie5656]

Insufferable

With; Newt

A/N: This is an addiction at this point. I seriously cry every other day abt this man. I just want to say thanks to anyone who likes or comments on my work. And those who reblog AND comment? You inspire me to keep writing so big thanks to you. Special s/o to @jenny33996 for yet another prompt idea. Enjoy!

   You hum softly as you work, fingertips intricately pressing down on the soil of your newly-planted tomatoes. The sun beats down on you and the other track-hoes without mercy, and it’s taken some time to get accustomed to the humidity of the glade. Despite the muggy weather, you’re completely focused on the task at hand. Making sure to remain gentle with each plant you come across.

“Love, you know the plants can’t actually hear you?” You roll your eyes at Newts remark, shaking your head knowingly as you observe his rough workings against the greenery surrounding you.

“They can actually. Studies have shown the emissions of carbon dioxide and the vibrations from talking or singing can promote efficient growth in plants.”

“Is all your free time spent researching then?”

“Precisely, and it’s the only reason the rest of you shanks don’t get a scolding from Alby. I practically carry the track-hoes!” You argue dramatically, laughing when Zart nods in agreement.

“Good that.” Zart comments idly, not noticing Newts offended expression as he lets down his rake.

“Since you two shanks like to talk so much, maybe you won’t mind working an extra ten minutes on turning the soil?” It comes out as more of an order than a question, and the two of you give a silent nod and the keeper walks off with the rest of the track-hoes.

“You’re bloody humming’s got us an extra ten on the garden, shank.” Newt chucks a cherry tomato at you as he speaks, chuckling when you toss it back to him.

“It was actually your bloody jokes, that aren’t funny might I add.” You mock his accent dramatically, smirking when his eyebrows raise in bewilderment.

“Your accent is insufferable.”

“So is yours.” The two of you laugh harder at your lighthearted bickering, getting up from your kneeling positions to pick up the discarded tools in order to tend to the soil. As Newt takes a step towards you, he trips over a stray vine. Each of you letting out a Yelp in surprise when he practically tackles you to the ground. He’s smart enough to roll over to break your fall, but you still feel a sharp pain on the side of your head when it comes in contact with one of the shovels.

“Shuck, are you that clumsy slinthead?” You mutter in annoyance as you rub your temple.

“Sorry.” Newt can only get one word out before the two of you start giggling again, only ceasing when you realize his hands are still secured around your waist. Not to mention you’re practically sprawled out on top of him, and can even smell the combined scent of mint and some type of wood coming off of him. Suddenly, the eye contact and the heavy breathing aren’t as funny as they were before.

She’s close, really close. Close enough for Newt to feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, and her breath mingling with his. He could move his head just a few inches more, and actually kiss her. But he can’t, right? Not when she’s practically his best friend, and the one of the only people he can truly trust. She’s means too much to him for him to jeopardize their relationship. But she’s just so....impossibly close. Maybe if he just-

“Earth to Newt? My head, i-it really hurts.” She mutters softly, cringing in pain when she rises to get off of him. It’s only when he lifts her completely off of him that he realizes how sickly she suddenly looks. Sweat beading on her skin as she takes heavier breaths and-oh shuck

“What? What is it?” You question worriedly, realizing the sensation of hot water running down the side of your head. You go to rub it off, only to see your palm covered in thick red blood.

“Y-you’re bleeding.” Newt responds dumbly, eyes wide with concern and shock as he discards his shirt from his torso.

“No shuck.” Even with how lightheaded you are, you manage to make a snarky remark at the blonde in front of you. Wincing when he presses the bunched up fabric to your head. If your brain didn’t feel as if it were being stapled to your skull, you think you might’ve taken the opportunity to admire his muscled arms.

“You need to go to the med-jack, right now. Can you stand?” His demeanor is calm now, but you can tell laced within his tone is deep worry.

“Yeah, I think so.” You nod softly, cringing at the dizziness the action creates. Newt grabs at your arms to hoist you up, and you stumble with a groan at the sudden movements.

“Shuck, sorry.” Is all you hear before the ringing begins. And you know it can only get worse from there when little black dots begin to cloud your vision. Your legs feels as if they have no bone supporting the tissue, and it takes all your focus to attempt to stand. There’s shouting in the distance, or maybe from right beside you. It’s hard to tell with all this damn ringing...Did the world always feel this spinny? The last you see is the brilliant, shining sun before everything goes black.

************************

When you come to, the ringing has finally stopped. It takes you a moment to recognize your surroundings, especially since the lighting is so dim in the room. There’s shouting, but you can’t seem to decipher the voices just yet. Still, you silently pray for the arguing to stop so the raging headache will cease.

“How could you let this happen? How careless could you possibly be Newt?”

“That’s enough Minho, it was an accident. He feels bad enough.”

“Yeah, and you know we can’t afford accidents Alby. Because you know what happens? People die!”

“I said that’s enough. I know damn well what goes on around here. Now slim it.” The voice is stern, but remains tranquil as anger laces each word. Alby

“Jesus shuck, stop talking.” You croak weakly, voice unbearably hoarse from however long you’ve been out. You try to swallow some saliva, and hum weakly when a cup of water meets your lips.

“If you guys are going to argue, I suggest you do it elsewhere. It’s bad enough she’s lost consciousness after a head injury. Right now, she needs as little stimulation as possible.” Clint informs strictly as he readjusts the bandage on your forehead. “If you’re going to stay in here, you all need to slim it.” You follow Clint with your eyes as he walks towards the supply stable, noticing Alby and Minho stood glaring at each other in the doorway. Newt sits in a chair beside Alby, hand rubbing over his mouth in thought as he studies you intently. Only averting his eyes when you meet his gaze.

“Do you know your name?” Clint speaks gently beside you, finger moving in front of your eyes in a silent order for them to follow it.

“Y/n.”

“What about where you are?”

“The med hut, in the glade.”

“Good, and who’s that over there?”

“Minho and Alby. The blonde shank is Newt.” You joke half halfheartedly, wanting more than anything than to see the boy smile. He doesn’t make a move or attempt to speak, just meets your eyes with an unreadable expression.

“Very good. Y’know how you got in here?” You nod, but Clint raises his brows to have you elaborate. “We were working in the garden, and I fell.” You look over when Minho lets out a huff before shaking his head.

“It seems to me like she fainted from the loss of blood. It could have been shock or anxiety, because I’m not noticing signs of significant head trauma. No memory loss, nausea, or lack of reflexes as of yet. Just to be sure though, I want her here for the next week so I can monitor her. I don’t want to take a head injury lightly.” Clint informs without looking up from his reflex-test on you. The boys look to each other briefly and nod in understanding.

“I need to cool off, you’ll be okay?” Minho asks abruptly, voice much quieter this time. He rubs his thumb gently over the bandage as you offer him a weak smile.

“Minho, I’ll be fine.” He gives a curt nod before attempting to back away to leave, but you grab his wrist and pull him to you once more. “Please don’t be so hard on him. He didn’t mean it.” Minho considers your words for a moment, before looking between you and Newt. He gives another nod before parting your hand and leaving the room, still a bit frustrated. As much as he hates to admit it, or to let the other boys see, he really cares about you. You smile to yourself at the thought, strong and sassy Minho worried sick over someone. It’s heartwarming, but Newt’s pale, solemn expression brings your focus back to the glum energy of the room.

“Hear that? Sounds like you’ll be alright, shank. I’ll let you get some rest for now. And you’re not moving from this bed for a week, you hear? Clint gives the orders in here.” Alby affirms sternly, deep brown eyes the dead giveaway he’s a lot more scared than angry. He squeezes your shoulder gently before making his way out of the med hut. Leaving you and Newt alone when Clint rambles on about needing to grab herbs from Frypan for tea.

“Newt.” Your voice is so soft, you’re not even sure the boy has heard you. “Please, come over here.”

“I-I have to go talk to Minho.” He fumbles lamely, obviously trying to come up with an excuse. It’s all his fault.

The overwhelming guilt and shame has been eating at him for the past hour, wondering whether or not he had just seriously injured the girl he’s head over heels for by tripping over a shucking vine. He let his guard down, something he really only tends to do around you. It’s too dangerous, to love you. Shuck, he loves you. He can only admit it to himself right then, and the the thought that your injury was with him to blame makes his stomach churn. He was so stupid, so careless to think he could even try to be carefree for one second in this shucking hell of a plac-”

“Newt? Hey, don’t spiral on me please.” Your voice is more sad now, pleading with him to come to you. Reluctantly, the blonde walks over to sit on the side of the bed. You grab his hand before he can refuse, and give him that beautiful smile as his thumb absentmindedly moves over your knuckles. “Look at me, you heard Clint. I’m gonna be just fine. It was an accident-”

“That could have gotten you bloody killed.” He interrupts almost instantly, running a hand over his face to contain his composure in order to not raise his voice. “You understand passing out meant you could have not woken up, yeah?” He inquires, looking to you with narrowed eyes as your own drift up to look at the ceiling rather than him.

“But I didn’t.”

“But you bloody could have, and it would have been my fault.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and your eyes dart over to meet his, not letting the moisture filling in the corner of them go unnoticed.

“Newt-”

“No. We have lost too many people to start getting stupid now. I-I can’t keep...I can’t keep doing whatever this is with you in good conscious, not after today.”

Your face contorts in confusion at his words, and if you weren’t so weak you’d hit him for being so vague.

“Wh-what? So, you’re just not gonna talk to me anymore because of a shucking mishap?”

“I can’t lose you!” He counters immediately. He doesn’t yell, but his tone is desperate when he tugs his hand from your own. Not understanding he’s doing more damage now than that stupid shovel ever could. “I can’t be sick with worry like that, n-not again. I couldn’t breath when I saw that blood on your face. And I could barely explain what happened to the others. I can’t-I wasn’t able to stay calm when I saw you like that. I wasn’t myself. So, I don’t know if it’s a good idea if we-”

“Slim it. You’re giving me more of a headache than I had before. You’re telling me you want to ignore me forever? Let...Whatever this is-whatever we are, just let it go because you’re scared? I’m scared all the shucking time Newt.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Only because you’re making this so complicated.” You’ve always been stubborn, but Newts still bewildered by your insistence despite your weakened state.

“I’m scared all the time!” He mutters sternly, staring into your eyes as if it’ll somehow translate to you. “I mean, every day I’m scared. But I let my guard down, and you got hurt. I love you too much to hold onto you, can’t you get that through your bloody skull?”

Your eyebrows raise at his words, wondering if he’s actually just admitted it as he rolls his eyes.

“There, you know now. I’m head over shucking heels or whatever. Doesn't bloody matter, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Oh, so just because you’re afraid we don’t get to be together? Believe it or not, this is a two way street. And it’s gonna take a lot more than a shucking shovel for me to stop loving you Newt. And to hate you? Well, that’s impossible.” You lock gazes as you speak, challenging him to look away or continue the argument before he sighs. There’s a long pause before he looks at his feet, shaking his head before replying.

“I’m sorry about what happened. But you need to get better before we can talk about this, alright?” He cups your check and runs his thumb over your jaw as you slightly nod, lips pulling up into a smile when he places a soft kiss to your temple before backing away.

“Will you come read to me later on? We don’t have to talk about...This. I just, I don’t want to be alone all day.” You trail off when you finish, expression brightening when he nods happily.

“Alright, any requests?”

“Maybe you should leave a request in the box for Botany For Dummies. Considering it was my squash vine your shank ass tripped over.”

“Again, you’re insufferable.”

“Don’t get all jacked because my singing actually works.”

“Tell that to my bleeding eardrums.”

“Tell that to the gash on my head!” Newt shoots you a stern look at your teasing, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway.

“Too soon?”

“Slim it already, will you? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m counting on it.”

#imagines #fiction #fanfic #tmr frypan #tmr fanart #tmr fandom #tmr alby #tmr newt #tmr gally #tmr minho #tmr thomas #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner #tmr #scorch trials #death cure #wckd #dylan obrien #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #benny watts #minho maze runner #minho x reader #newt x reader #newt maze runner #thomas maze runner #gally x reader #tmr teresa #thomas x reader #newtmas

[suntrastar]

sink or swim

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

summary: you first meet ransom when meg drags you along to a party. everything somehow spirals from there.

warnings: swearing, smut (but like very vague smut, nothing super explicit), ransom’s general assholery

word count: 9.3k

author’s note: i hate ransom drysdale! he is a shit character! if he existed irl i would whoop his ass with NO hesitation. but i still wrote this fic because ... a bitch gets thirsty okay?? okay. and ik this is very long BUT a lot of it is dialogue so it should flow pretty fast!!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!! ily now enjoy!!! you can also read this on ao3 :)

There’s something fun about being somewhere where no one wants you, and then something shameful. 

Meg isn’t touching you, but as she drags you around her famous grandfather’s mansion in search of people to bother, it feels like she has you on an invisible leash, fastened tight over your neck. To keep you tethered to her- like a fucking dog. 

The leash hurts like it is not made of plastic or metal but instead two hands squeezing tight, wringing you dry, choking you harder and harder and bruising you purple with no remorse.

Now, she’s debating political theory with her douchebag fuck of an uncle, who almost hits you once- almost hits you twice with his cane while waving it around as he quotes Fox News-

Their voices rise. You’re the only one that flinches.

Standing awkwardly on the edge, you wonder why you are the only guest at this terrible party that looks so lost. Meg gives you a covert this-is-total-bullshit glance, and a small, pained, rehearsed smile, both of which you have to return- that’s the real reason you’re here, after all- and her uncle rants on, wholly oblivious.

You look past them both, to where one man stands by himself.

He’s leaning against the far wall, and while Meg retaliates with some of her favorite words, including audacity and bigoted and problematic, you take a sudden, intense interest in the wallpaper pattern, sweeping your eyes over the span of it, looking over the man just once.

He is staring right back at you.

All it takes is his eyes- he’s just staring, but you’re absolutely embarrassed. 

He looks rich, with too much product in his hair and a coat that looks like it cost more than your rent, with loafers that expose an uncomfortable amount of ankle and an expression that morphs into something wolfish as he starts towards you-

Before you can think, he’s joined your little circle- Meg prefers standing, so of course, everyone stands- and smiles when she glares at him. 

He isn’t looking at you anymore.

“So,” he interrupts, and his voice is so dark, “what riveting political topic are we debating tonight?”

You should call an Uber. Why did you accept Meg’s offer of a ride?

“Ransom,” Meg says sweetly, “could you just, like, fucking not?”

This is supposed to be a Christmas party, but none of these people seem to be in the Christmas spirit. Including her uncle, with his stuffy sweater set and clunky-as-hell shoes. He sputters something about young people and their profanity, and then hastily leaves. 

Without thinking, you breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. 

The man smiles wider. Unfortunately, it makes him look very handsome.

”Ouch,” he says lightly, to Meg, and turns to you.

A shiver runs down your spine. 

You hate him immediately. 

“Who are you?” he asks.

For whatever reason, the question makes Meg scoff. She shakes her head at you- a warning. Her hair flounces with the movement.

Because she doesn’t want you to, you give him your name. And then add, because your name alone seems like a title too stripped down, “I’m Meg’s friend.”

It’s hard to convince yourself to be polite, when you don’t like how he’s been looking at you- with his eyes narrowed and brown furrowed and lips parted. He gives an insufferable nod.

“Right,” he says. “The one she’s been showing off all evening.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Ransom-” Meg starts, and suddenly you are so angry, at this man for confirming what you thought was all in your head, at Meg for suddenly swooping in to save you, like she’s been waiting for it-

“I guess,” you say, and smile a little, and regret everything.

“That’s pathetic,” he says, and looks at you kindly.

 Apparently, Meg is the only one allowed to be self-righteous in her annoyance, or anger, or any other mildly passionate emotion. She doesn’t return your covert this-is-total-bullshit glance. 

So you fend for yourself.

“Well, so is this fucking party, so-”

He interrupts you with a laugh. 

It’s loud and arrogant and mirthless, and you’ll climb out of a window, find a way to walk through the walls, if it means that you’ll escape it.

“I’m just joking,” he says, pursing his lips, and the hands on your neck, ever-present, nearly crush the breath out of you. “Don’t get your panties all in a twist.”

“So funny I forgot to laugh,” you say, and instead of replying, he just looks at you.

He looks at you slowly, like he has nothing better to do, like he has time to waste. You can smell him- some cologne that’s spicy, and expensive, and Meg is staring at you in shock, like you’ve committed a crime. 

But she’s quiet.

“I’m Ransom,” he says, and raises his hands to make little air quotes, which is weirdly adorable in a way that you hate, “Meg’s ‘asshole cousin’”

“Weird name,” you say. 

You’ve changed your mind- you’re not even going to attempt to be nice.

For a second, he looks furious.

It’s attractive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Anyways, I’m about to ditch. Do you want a ride?”

How does he know you came here with Meg?

He was staring at you from the wall-

From his butterscotch-colored coat with its awful, ostensible lapels, he pulls out his car keys. The BMW logo flashes silver and blue, clashing against the gold of his pinky ring, clinking against the metal as he twirls the key ring around his finger-

For a second, you think that he’s about to toss the keys across the room and command you to fetch.

“Um,” you say, uncertainly, irritated with your own restraint, “Thanks, but Meg will-”

“Meg will what?”

He’s mocking you, and there is no one to come to your rescue. 

Hesitantly, like she has to think twice about it, Meg opens her mouth to say something. What is her problem? What is your problem? Why are you treating her like she is your saving grace? 

You talk before she gets the chance. “Okay, yeah. A ride would be great.”

***

Ransom offers because he likes your face.

You’re better-looking than the girls that Meg usually brings along to these parties, or maybe his standards have fallen- he isn't sure. Does it really matter? Even though he’s been looking at you all night, even though he’s positively thrilled to have you in his car, he’s not going to try anything.

There’s something desperate in your eyes that compels him against it.

You inhale sharply when he turns left. 

“You forgot your turn signal,” you say, and he kind of likes how you chastise him, not angrily or even upset, but just exasperated-

How is someone like you friends with someone like Meg?

“Don’t worry about it,” he says lightly, and the tired glare you give him is enough to make his entire week.

Now that he thinks about it, his mother is always on his case about things like this- compassion and civility and basic human decency, and how he lacks it all, but what about now? He’s taking a miserable girl to her home, simply from the goodness of his own heart, with no strings attached. 

This is such a good deed- this is like charity.

His mother is also always telling him that he’s severely, almost clinically narcissistic.

He definitely is, but again, does it matter?

“So, what do you think about my family?” he asks, making a big, dramatic show of using his turn signal before swerving right, feeling too pleased when you smile. 

He steals a glance at your knees and somehow feels guilty.

He’ll have to do something about that.

“They’re pretty... lively,” you say hesitantly, and he’s suddenly hating the dark, this stupid fucking night- he’d like to see you better.

“Lively,” he repeats, and barks out a laugh. “They’re fucking crazy.”

You laugh, too, a real one- off-kilter, and too loud- none of that artificial shit he heard at the party. Nothing meant to please.

“I was definitely thinking that,” you say. He catches you looking at his hands, but boldly, you don’t look away. “I just didn’t want to be rude.”

“Now you’re worried about being rude?”

“I’m in a car with a strange guy I’ve never met before, so yeah.”

You’re smiling but look uncomfortable, and then afraid.

All bark and no bite- you’ve been talking all this talk, when really, he realizes, you’re so washed-out, so faint, like the bare sliver of moon out in the sky, the same weak moon he’s been cursing out. The same stars, too- you are just as scattered.

You look pretty.

“Are you scared?”

He keeps his eyes on the road because he thinks you’ll snap at him if he doesn’t. Not like anyone drives out here anyway- not like he can’t pay off a ticket or two or five-

“Should I be?”

There is something so delicious about this moment, with you starting to worry- he can’t look at the road anymore, not when he can watch your throat bob as you swallow instead, and it still feels so violating, but so good. 

“Nope,” he says, and you startle when you hear him say it, and he has to bite his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “No need.”

“Great,” you say, and go quiet. 

When he pulls up to your apartment complex, not too far from where he lives, he holds his mouth in check. He could say so many things right now, but for you, he restrains himself.

You have your bag in hand, seatbelt off. From the streetlight, the planes of your face look waxy yellow.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say. 

Your hand is on the door handle, nails glittering. He can’t make out the color of the polish.

While looking at it, a sudden urge overcomes him.

And he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he wants to, so bad. It’s borderline frantic, the desire- it’s necessary and all-important and crucial, for him and his basic peace of mind, and maybe for you, too-

Who is he to deny himself?

“Wait,” he says, even though the door is open and you have half of yourself out the door. 

The cold is slowly seeping in, bone-chilling.

You wait.

“Let me just,” he says, and can’t bring himself to say anything else.

He reaches out for your waxen face with one hand and presses it firmly against your cheek.

Under his touch, you shiver. He fans out his fingers to hold you better. 

Your eyes are wide. He thinks you look a bit horrified- horrified with yourself for not resisting, maybe.

But he closes his eyes as he leans in, so it doesn’t matter.

He turns your head for you, a bit forcefully. You don’t protest.

He kisses your cheek.

When he pulls back and opens his eyes, you’re staring at him with your mouth in a perfect circle.

“Uh,” you say, and suddenly look away and out into the night, and it makes him angry, even though it should be flattering, “Merry Christmas.”

*** 

You don’t think about Ransom as much as he probably would have wanted- life picks up too fast.

In the last days of the year, Meg calls you and texts you and even goes so far as to send a few emails, but finally, you seem to have found the self-respect to not respond- consider that ridiculously wealthy bridge burned. 

In January, your brother leaves to study for a semester abroad. All the walls in your small apartment are suddenly looming, standing high over you, standing empty. You try to shove off the loneliness by studying harder, by staying distracted.

In February, you have the same dream nearly every night- you’re sitting outside on a porch in the sun and for some reason there’s a bird on your head, and in your lap there’s a clock whose hands don’t work, and you’re wearing a heavy necklace made of gold links that jingle, and you’re so happy. 

Does the bird count as company?

In early March, while you’re watering your plants, your phone rings with an unknown number. 

You shouldn’t pick up unknown numbers.

You pick up.

“Hello?”

“Remember me?” 

His voice nearly gives you whiplash.

It’s dark and harsh, faceless and yet as arrogant as ever. 

“Hi, Ransom,” you say, and think of the night in the car for the first time since, think of how he gripped your face so hard that his ring left an imprint. “How the hell do you have my number?”

“Meg gave it to me,” he says smugly. “She says hi.”

You wonder what Meg thinks you did to her. It’s obviously something bad, something terrible, if she so willingly gave your number to this pretty-faced, pretty-voiced, ugly-coat-wearing asshole-

“Awesome,” you say plainly. You don’t want to talk about her. “Do you, like, need something, or-”

“I want to take you out,” he says.

You laugh and your grip on your pitcher slips, sloshing water over the edge.

“You’re joking.”

He is, right? 

He takes an impatient breath that, for some reason, sounds inappropriate. “I’m serious.”

“Ransom,” you say, slowly, “I don’t even know you.”

“Then get to know me,” he says testily, and you can perfectly picture him, sitting in some colossal brownstone his parents bought him, while a butler daintily dabs the sweat from his brow with an embroidered handkerchief. “Tonight.”

You’ve overwatered your marigolds. 

Has his voice really swept you this far away?

“No,” you say, and shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “You have anything better to do?”

You don’t, but you take a deep breath and prepare yourself to lie-

“I’ll treat you good,” he suddenly says, and his voice is low and sticky-sweet, dripping with honey. “I promise.”

He says it in a way that makes your knees weak.

You physically have to sit down- he knows how to get what he wants.

Could you actually do this?

Could you go out on a date with a crude, pretentious, trust-fund piece of trash, who probably thinks you’re easy, who’s only calling you because he’s bored, who has already subtly insulted you twice in this conversation alone-

-who got your number from his cousin that you both decidedly dislike, who kissed your cheek like you were pretty in the dark of the night, in his cold car?

“Fine,” you say. “Take me out.”

***

He doesn’t tell you that you look nice- he just stares.

There is something predatory in his eyes.

You’re out on a Wednesday night with a bad man, wasting your time, trying to get something out of nothing, smiling a fake smile when he orders you a drink you don’t like, already irritated with him, and trying too hard to stop looking at his face.

How are you actually interested?

You tell him that you’re in medical school.

“Really,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you. “You don’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

Underneath the table, you clench your hands for some sense of control, but still feel like you’re spinning. “What kind of girl?”

“Smart,” he says, and picks up his drink. The glass sweats beads of condensation, wetting the tips of his fingers. “I didn’t know you were smart.”

You shouldn’t dignify his flimsy insult with a response- he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, trying to make you roll your eyes or scowl or shiver. He wants you unsettled. 

But the moral high ground is, unfortunately, too high.

“And I didn’t know that you’re such a terrible date.”

His teeth gleam white when he smiles. He knows.

He knows that he can say whatever the hell he wants, because he has money, and those eyes, and that insufferably nice rich-boy hair, and that sweater with its charmingly frayed hems, and that voice- he has everything, and then some, and he’s about to have you, too, if he keeps on looking at you like he already does.

“You’re so sweet,” he says. 

“Fuck off.”

He winks and you could cry, you’re so fucking bothered-

You’re not usually this uptight, but he has you so drastically wound up that every little thing he does, even how he’s sitting- body sprawled, manspreading- is fire licking up on your skin, scorching-hot and ruining you with no remorse, like you have done something to deserve it.

When his eyes trail down, from your eyes to your mouth to your neck to below, you are so acutely aware of wanting him that you feel guilty. Like it’s a crime.

***

You don’t seem like the type of girl to fuck on the first date. 

So, of course, Ransom tries to fuck on the first date.

As you stand outside the restaurant, in your dress and strappy sandals, you look so tense that he wants to laugh.

 He can’t help it, because this whole thing you have going on- this weariness you approach everything with, this attitude- is so funny. Maybe, in any other situation, it would be irritating, but he’s been so bored lately that it’s stirring.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” he asks, quietly, taking a step closer to you so that at this very moment, under the waning sun, you should be able to just lean up and kiss him-

You blink slowly and keep your silence.

This is fucking tedious.

This should be so easy- all he has to do is settle his hands somewhere soft and let time pass, and then before he knows it you’re there and under and begging. But he can’t bring himself to touch you just yet, not when his head is calling you pathetic, and his heart calls you-

His heart just calls you.

You start to answer, and then hesitate. All five stages of grief flicker over your face at once- denial to acceptance in the same breath. 

“Sure,” you say, unevenly, desperately-

When you step inside his house, your eyes go wide. As you take it in- the decor, the windows, the excess, he locks the door behind him and takes you in.

You step further inside, and he thinks of where it would be best, but then your eyes crease as you smile- it’s impossible to wait when your smile looks like that- and so he backs you right into the closest wall, cups your face with both of his hands and kisses you.

He kisses you and you curl your hands over his shoulders and immediately kiss back, and he is taken aback and delighted. 

And he knew- the entire time at dinner when you were making eyes at him like you couldn’t believe that you were actually sitting there, present in that moment- he knew that secretly, you’re a freak. He knew it- he knows it.

He hopes it.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispers, right into your mouth, when your heart has been beating right into his for a while, “Let me fuck you right here.”

You bite his lip.

He takes a hand away from your face and reaches under your dress fast, rucking it all the way up your thighs, trailing up to touch you-

“Fuck,” you gasp, and arch your back up against the wall, and he grips you a little tighter-

He presses a finger into you- pushing aside your underwear and, good grief, you’re already wet- harshly, and pulls away from your mouth, so he can watch your face. 

The lines creasing your forehead look like poetry.

He thinks he likes you. It’s a shame he had to meet you through Meg- it would be nice if he had met you somewhere else, on his own. 

That way, he’d be able to waltz in one day, to another insipid family gathering, with you tucked under his arm. You, with your promise of a medical degree and your strappy sandals, and your iron grip on his shoulders and your drawn out breath of a moan-

The looks on their faces would be priceless.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, and he’s a little irritated at how cracked his voice sounds, but it’s the right thing to say- you swear again and he picks up his pace, pressing hard on your clit. “If you’ll be good to me.”

“I’ll-” you say, and you’re actually stuttering, and breaking out into a lovely sweat, still forced back into the wall with his hand and body. He leans closer, so he can’t tell where you and him and the wall start and end. “I’ll be- fuck, Ransom-”

You still have your arms wrapped around him, like an embrace. He keeps one hand between your thighs, your dress pooling over his arm like water, and uses his other to work at his belt buckle.

This is also funny- you stay exactly how you are, even though at that moment, there is nothing holding you back.

***

The world is begging for you to consider your actions.

But you don’t. You know that when he offers, you’ll meet him again.

It should be too late. You’re exhausted, from a day full of lectures and an evening spent in a lab, working as a professor’s research assistant, and then studying for a few hours in the library- all you really want to do is sleep. 

But then he calls.

The night is suddenly brimming with possibility, and you’ve never been more awake.

On a whim, Ransom suggests ice cream, and because you can’t bring yourself to deny him, you end up at a place that you would never go for- where everything is handmade and served in thick paper cups with multicolored plastic spoons, but he pays, because of his stupid ego or fragile masculinity or whatever the hell, so you don’t care.

He stands next to you as you order, and his shoulder keeps on brushing into yours. You can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. In the glass shield that the tubs of ice cream sit behind, you’re both reflected, your body warped and tall, his body warped and taller. In the glass, his eyes meet yours.

The tension is strong- it’s only a matter of time.

Your heart flutters.

When you sit, he bumps his knees against yours- you’re sure it’s on purpose, now, but you don’t say anything. What even is there to say? 

That you like it? 

When he digs into his ice cream, the plastic spoon- a green one- snaps in his hand.

 And because you’re so caught up in your own ridiculous thoughts, before he can go back up to get another, you pull your own from your mouth- a pink one- and offer it to him.

The proposition makes him smile.

Why does he smile like that? Each movement, each twitch of muscle is so perfectly detached and coordinated- it’s violent. 

But he still takes the spoon from you gently, with a soft hand. 

He’s too pretty to be mean, you think, but against any type of judgement- not just the better kind- you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You let yourself laugh and he scowls. 

“This place sucks,” he says, like he isn’t the one who chose it.

He adjusts the womens’ scarf he’s always wearing, carefully arranging it over himself so it looks like it was carelessly thrown on. The blue in the paisley print brings out his eyes- it makes him look so stupidly hot that you start to get angry.

You just shrug. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

He puts your spoon in his mouth and looks at you.

Again, the night ends at his place- this time on an actual bed, because you ask for it, and you think he likes how you look when you ask for things in the current state state you’re in-

He fucks you in the dark, and swears into your ear, and is not kind or soft in any way, but after he finishes, he takes the time to kiss the spot in between your breasts, and you think that maybe he isn’t entirely horrible. The bedsheets are cool against your skin, and his mouth is always hot.

You leave without a word.

***

He takes you out this time, in a real, urgent show of wealth- he picks you up in his fancy car, takes you to a fancy restaurant where the numbers next to the fancy menu items are all appalling, where he spends the whole time making these awful, unfunny innuendos that still manage to rile you up, because they’re coming from his mouth-

On the way back, while waiting at a stoplight, you take a deep breath and brace yourself before looking at him.

He really is gorgeous- all lazy grace and harsh angles. The light colors his face red, red in his eyes and in the plane of his cheekbone and in the slope of his mouth- like a beautiful warning sign. His hands are carelessly draped over the steering wheel and, despite the warning, you reach out and trace a finger over his knuckles. 

His whole body jerks.

You quickly draw your hand back.

“What?” he asks sharply. He’s staring at you like you’re crazy.

You don’t know why this is suddenly so fucking embarrassing, all you did was touch him- but you suddenly feel terrible, and-

“Nothing,” you say, with the same tone, and whip your head away from him to the window, where you smolder in the dark and furiously stare at nothing.

The light turns green. He takes his foot off the break and all but slams it on the gas pedal, driving as atrociously as ever, looking over at you for a split second when you don’t protest. The blood rushing in your ears is too loud for you to think- you can’t form any words.

Once it subsides, marginally, you add, “Sorry.”

His jaw tenses.

You look back over at him, at his ring, and imagine it pressing into your neck.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” he suddenly asks- suddenly demands, with a blazing authority that makes your stomach do flips.

You don’t know what answer he wants. “Um, one time I snuck out of-“

“Let’s do something crazier.”

On an abandoned road, he pulls over, and then you’re under him in the backseat- doing something crazier. 

You might have some type of psychic tendencies, because his ring presses heavy into your neck as he pushes himself inside you, starting at a bruising pace, and then he says your name in the dark, and he looks so beautifully flushed, startling when you grab his hair, laughing when your hand accidentally skims his thigh, smiling when you come-

You wish you had the resolve to put an end to this.

You wish you could stay when it’s over.

***

You don’t like his house.

It’s not the brownstone you imagined, but rather a huge, minimalistic box, with too many windows and spotless paint and modern wood fixtures. Ransom has all of these customary rich-person things, including stately furniture and eclectic art pieces and tall shelves stuffed with books, but owning any actual personality has escaped him.

Standing in his house feels like standing in an empty room- it’s all so apathetic.

Still, you show up when he calls.

You haven’t done anything this bad before. 

But there’s a first time for everything, right? First time for enjoying bruises and biting and an unwavering grip on your neck or hips or waist or thighs, first time leaving something so intense so awkwardly.

Each time is worse than the last, with the awkwardness spiraling, accruing beyond reason, and each time you struggle with what to say- even now, you just do your best to stay quiet as you start to get up, reaching for your clothes-

Ransom drapes a heavy arm over you before you have the chance.

“You can stay,” he says flippantly, and then shifts to pull you close to him, so that you are suddenly lying bare-backed against his chest, so that his sweat-slick body and heartbeat imprints itself on your skin.

Is he asking?

You crane your head over your shoulder to get a look at him.

He returns your stare like he’s been waiting for it. 

His face is still flushed pink and a lock of hair hangs low over his forehead, and if you were any braver, you would comb a hand through it, gently, with no real intentions. He’s breathtaking. Even the new, foreign purple under his eyes is a sight- pretty like something you would want to kiss.

“You want me to stay?”

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head back. You would lick the sweat from the divots of his neck, if he asked you to.

“Or leave, if you want. I could care less.”

He cares

You know it because his grip is unwavering, because the terseness in his eyes is enough to make you look away.

Eventually, you settle a hand over his arm and try your best not to tremble. Ransom mumbles something under your breath- you can’t make any of it out, but you don’t ask him to repeat it, for the fear that it’ll upset this fragile bedroom balance you’ve so painstakingly built yourself into-

He wants you to stay. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, because you don’t think he is.

He inhales. You feel his chest against you; it’s shaky. You wonder, for a second, about who he might actually be, underneath the arrogance and egotism and constant need to be an asshole- is he someone you could like without feeling bad about it?

“Yeah,” he says, and throws his other arm over you, so that he is holding you. “Why?”

There isn’t a genuine bone in this man’s body, but he genuinely sounds confused.

It’s possible that you’re the one who isn’t okay.

“Because,” you say, and take a great leap of faith- holding your bare heart in your hands, you turn to face him.

You’re fully exposed and subjected to his gaze- it’s nearly eviscerating. His eyes dip down to your chest and something like insecurity flares in your chest. It’s awful and terrible and you urgently want to kiss him on the lips.

He always kisses you first. You don’t know if you have it in you to kiss him yet. 

You wouldn’t ever try, in case you don’t.

“You look kind of tired,” you say, and his eyes bore into you with a sinking weight, threatening to drown. One of his hands finds a blooming bruise on your skin and lightly presses. He doesn’t react when you wince. The action is still kind- almost tender.

He sighs, and it is such a delicate breath, fanning hot over your skin. 

“I’m not tired,” he says, almost childishly.

You might be overstepping. But you don’t even know where the lines have been drawn. 

“Okay,” you say, and because you would not dare kiss his lips, you lean close and kiss his jaw instead.

He startles and then gives you a crooked, lazy smile. He is everything good, you think- for this one moment. Pretty and soft-handed and made of glass and honey and all other lovely things.

You tuck your head in the crook of his neck and wrap an arm over his, tight, so he knows you are there, and hope for the best.

***

In your spare moments, you’re always thinking.

Ransom knows this because of how you look when you do it- your brow furrows and your eyes go glassy, and you frown with an intensity that he has never seen on anyone else.

It happens when you finish a sentence, when you have no response for him, when he is still talking but you’ve stopped listening. When you think it’s quiet.

It never happens during sex- is it pathetic to take pride in that?

As he stands in your apartment for the first time ever, you look like you’re in near-despair, like your thoughts are wreaking havoc on your mind, destructive and distressing. You wear basketball shorts and a college sweatshirt and glasses.

He didn’t know you wore glasses, and that you looked like this in them- he’s been missing out.

“Hi,” you say, and stare at him with troubled eyes.

Your apartment is so small. He almost feels claustrophobic, standing in here. When was the last time he willingly stood somewhere so small?

The lengths he’ll go to, for… 

For you, he supposes.

“Hi,” he says, and wonders, also for the first time ever, what it is that you’re always thinking. “Why do you have so many plants?”

On the windowsill, with even spacing in between, sits an entire row of glass jars housing plants- all singular flower stems, some budding, some in bloom. The petals of a marigold brush against the window, orange against the grey outside. It’s cute, he absently thinks, in a struggling, shabby type of way.

“It’s just something I do for fun,” you say, sounding irritated. “Like, a hobby.” 

Infringing on the living room space is a small table, cluttered with textbooks and pens and an open laptop with its screen dark.

It still baffles him that you’re smart.

“So,” you start, and cross your arms over your chest. He feels kind of offended, because he’s just realized that he really only knows a handful of things about you, and even that handful is sparse, slipping through his fingers. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He called on impulse. 

He’s just- he’s in what someone could call a mood, where he hates everything and has the intense desire to ruin something, and while he was thinking of how to fix it- beyond just getting wasted- he thought of you.

And when he called, you were sounding so tired and so he even said he could just meet you here, so you wouldn’t have to drive, so you could squeeze in a few more minutes of studying before he inevitably invades your mind-

Easily, he deflects. Nearby, there’s a hallway with two doors, one of which is tightly closed shut.

“What’s in there?” he asks, and points towards it.

You relax, slightly.

He wants to gather you up in his arms, but he doesn’t know for whose sake- his or yours?

“That’s my brother’s room,” you say, and your shoulders slump, and he resists the urge to pull you upright, and the urge to gawk. Brother? “He lives with me. But he’s studying abroad this semester.”

“Where?”

“Prague.”

He nods. This is a stiff, perfect, shocking distraction. “Nice city.”

You nod distantly and head back to the table to put your things away.

“Yeah,” you say, after too long of a pause, as you start to cap pens and set them aside. You look at him as you do it, and so you miss a few times, accidentally drawing dark lines of ink all over your fingers. “I’m glad he got to go. When we were kids, he was obsessed with wanting to travel- he had this entire map in our room, and he would draw stars over every country he wanted to visit, and there were, like, a hundred of them, and he could list every single one, in the exact order he wanted to visit, and he could even list the capitals- I’m sorry. You probably don’t care about any of this.”

He doesn’t.

Or, he shouldn’t, but your eyes are clearer, and as you neatly stack your textbooks in an order only known to you, he is almost intrigued.

He’s longing for you- when you are right there.

He feels like a person outside of himself, when you look at him and smile tiredly.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

There’s a cheesy ‘90s horror movie you find after a few minutes of channel surfing, complete with terrible special effects and edited-out profanity. The days are longer, now, and to stop the sun from casting a glare over the screen, you close all the blinds. It adds to the atmosphere, you say lightly, fully phased out of whatever just possessed you, and his hands are so itchy- itching to do something.

He sits. Patience is a virtue, but he is not virtuous, and so when you sit next to him and bring your knees to your chest, making yourself small, he goes to-

Something in his stomach stops him. 

It’s butterflies- is he actually nervous?

This is so fucking infuriating.

You’ve got him trapped in some type of pain-and-power-play, some type of unassuming purgatory, and all he can bring himself to do is lightly brush a hand against your shoulder. You smile at his touch and his heart fucking breaks.

As the second boy in the friend group gets murdered onscreen, you close your eyes and duck your head into your knees.

“Tell me when it’s over,” you say, voice muffled.

“Scaredy-cat,” he says, even though this is no time for jokes. 

You crack one eye open, looking only at him, and give him the finger.

Come here, he almost demands. The butterflies protest- he holds his tongue.

The dance continues. When the sun sets, everything darkens, settling into a dim blue. You look like something out of a painting. Faintly sad, unusually serene. The skin around your eyes has smoothened- you’ve stopped thinking so hard and he can suddenly breathe easier because of it-

And then there’s a jumpscare, and he shouts, “Jesus!”

The murderer has broken down a door, and all of the remaining characters are screaming, and you burst out laughing.

He’s in the middle of a crisis, and you’re laughing.

You lean into him as you laugh, with your head turned away from the screen and your eyes open, looking at him so fondly that he suddenly feels violated, and you let your shoulder brush against his.

“Scaredy-cat” you tease, and it’s absolutely now or never-

You’re making him weak- it takes too much time and effort for him to draw an arm over you.

You don’t flinch, but he is sure that you can hear his heart beating dangerously fast, without abandon, like it's trying to break free of his ribcage. He almost gasps when you come even closer and lightly kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around him, and his head is just saying yes yes yes-

Your mouth goes over his ear, lips ghosting over skin. He waits, more scared than he’s ever been in his entire life, for what you have to say. 

***

So this is Ransom’s deep, dark, ugly secret.

He likes to be cuddled.

If it were anyone else, you would laugh.

But it’s Ransom, and so you just take it in stride, as part of his extremely fucked-up psyche that is probably a result of a hundred things he’ll never tell you- childhood trauma and neglect and the consequences that come with having more money than you need or deserve.

He’s always talking, always talking shit, always talking over you and over everyone else, and you realize, one day, that he really only is treading water- he’s only focused on staying afloat, speaking whatever he wants, but never actually saying anything.

He’s responsible for his faults, of course. But still, when he smiles in low light or curls his hands over yours so viciously, you don’t know if you should leave, or if you should just stay and pity him quietly.

You’re starting to like him too much to even care.

He starts coming around more. And he actually stays, and starts leaving pieces of himself behind. He has a toothbrush next to yours and a phone charger on his side of the bed and imported, undoubtedly expensive snacks in the kitchen.

He leaves clothes, too- you wash them with yours and keep them, neatly folded, in your closet.

On a warm day in May, he meets you at a cafe.

He does most of the talking, like always. It’s been months, already, but you still find it difficult to start conversations.

You still have trouble telling him certain things without feeling like you have to defend yourself, and he still rarely deviates from being a total dick, even when you hold him or have his head in your lap, when you make him laugh or when you kiss him.

Or when you put your hands in the sleeves of his sweaters and rub your palms against his forearms, because he’s always running warm and your hands are always cold. 

He always acts like it annoys him, jumps when your hands meet his skin- but you know he secretly likes it, because whenever you’re done he pulls the hems all the way over his hands and looks at you with something amazed in his eyes.

With the weather warming up, he’s ditched the sweaters and taken to wearing these awful fucking short-sleeved button-downs, all unnecessarily tight and showing way too much collarbone. He’s making you sweat.

“You’re staring,” he says, and smiles, self-satisfied.

You bring your straw to your lips and shake your head. “I’m not.”

He knows that you can’t help it- he is always so gorgeous. He’s infuriatingly pretty.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, and nudges your foot under the table, voice suddenly low, and it’s like, holy shit-

You bring your drink down and lean over the table, careful to avoid knocking anything over, and kiss him quickly.

He tastes like bitter coffee.

You’re sad, all of a sudden.

When you settle back in your seat, you clear your throat like nothing happened. You want to lean in again and button up the rest of his shirt, and kiss him again. You want to come so close that your noses touch, and then yell at him, just for being him.

He looks appalled

“What was that for?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever done this.

“No reason,” you say. “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like it,” he repeats, and it’s like the same reaction from the night at the stoplight, and you realize-

He’s dumbstruck.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. He sets his jaw like he’s about to get up and leave. You try not to scowl, even though you feel like you’re drifting, tide carrying you away, sand clean and smooth on where your body once was-

It gets to you.

“Can I not just kiss you?” you snap harshly, glaring at him with a ferocity you don’t think he’s ever seen.

It’s inevitable- the result of months of frustration. You can only suppress yourself for so long. Why, you want to ask, why are you not entitled to him the way he is to you and everything else? Can you not ask for him so wholly?

He flinches.

Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire, flinches.

It brings a small sliver of satisfaction with it. There’s some nerve you’ve struck, and the discontent on his face is steadily growing- 

You pay it no mind, drinking the rest of your iced coffee in calm silence. 

Outside, the day is vaguely summery, where the sun is out and strong, but still too cold in the shade. You stare past his head, towards the door. How quickly can you leave?

“You can,” he says quietly, when you’re rising to throw your cup in the trash. “Whenever you want.”

His eyelashes are so long- they command a moment of attention all on their own when he blinks- soft and slow and gazing at you from underneath them. You wonder if he is doing this for the same reason you are. If he’s lonely, too.

When was the last time you had the dream with the bird?

You smirk. “Whenever?”

He is forlorn. 

You like him better in the spring.

“Whenever.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, and make your voice low, since two can play at that game.

He considerably perks up. 

*** 

When you wake up, he’s still in your bed.

Lately, he’s been spending more time at your place than his. You think that all those windows are finally starting to get to him.

Ransom always holds you fiercely in his sleep. You break free as gently as you can and take him in for a brief moment- you like how he looks when he’s asleep. Unconcerned, chest rising slow with each breath, hair splayed over the pillow in nearly every direction. He almost looks innocent.

You get up quietly, even though there’s no chance he’ll stir- he sleeps like the dead.

Daylight filters through the blinds in white-yellow streams, dappling him golden. 

You almost take a picture, but regretfully leave the room for other tasks- you stretch and water your plants and check your email, and then sit down at the table to Skype your brother.

He picks up fast.

“Hey!” you say, and at once feel so much relief, to see his grainy, smiling face on your laptop screen.

Europe has done him good- he’s grown out his hair, and his skin is glowing, and he looks so happy.

He tells you about what he’s been doing lately, studying architecture. It makes you so proud, this fact alone- that unlike you, he can do whatever he wants and doesn’t have the looming promises of debt and academic burnout and crushing, ever-present stress hovering over his shoulders. It is so good to see him, and you are so grateful that he can be who he wants to be, do what he wants to do-

“Holy shit, who is that?”

He’s looking past you. You turn around and almost jump- 

Ransom stands in the kitchen, shirtless and rummaging through the cupboards. He waves at you.

You would think that someone like Ransom would exclusively sleep in, like, silk pajama sets, or something, but at least he’s in sweatpants- however low-rise they might be, however loosely knotted the drawstring is. It’s better than nothing, at least- what if he had walked out in nothing?

When you turn back to the screen, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your camera feed- you look absolutely mortified.

You are absolutely mortified. This is the start of what can only be a nightmare.

“Are you dating that guy?” your brother asks incredulously. He’s still staring at Ransom with his jaw hanging loose. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” you say forcefully, without thinking. “That’s, um... “

Hopelessly, you gesture back towards him, trying to come up with the words. Nothing feels right in your mouth- every title you can come up with is too consequential, too heavy.

“...That’s Ransom.”

“Weird name,” your brother says, and grins.

You take a breath that feels more like a gasp. “I know.”

“Hey,” Ransom says, from the back, and continues to loudly open and close the cupboards- what the fuck is he even looking for? You don’t keep enough shit in there to warrant this much noise- he’s doing this for theatrics.

“I think I’m going to go,” you say loudly. “Love you.”

“Bye,” your brother says, and he’s grinning stupidly, like a madman.

You disconnect and feel like you might faint.

Not your boyfriend, right?

“Was that your brother?” Ransom asks, casually, finally finding what he was looking for- two mugs. There is no way that he didn’t come across them earlier. 

“Yeah- yes,” you say shakily. It feels like someone has filled your brain with fizzy water.

There’s a few boys your brother has met over the years, but you’ve always been careful. Because an introduction is like making a statement- it’s like saying that this person you’re with is important enough to you that they’re going to overlap, exist in more than just one part of your life.

But Ransom is a catastrophe of a person- you can barely handle him as he is. How could you ever have him as anything more?

He goes through the cupboards, again, and finds a box of teabags. “The one studying abroad?”

“I only have one brother,” you snap.

“Okay,” he says, totally unbothered, surprising you. He’s not a morning person in the slightest- why is he being so cordial? “Where do you keep your kettle?”

“Second cupboard on the right,” you say, and bury your head in your hands.

He looks at you. He is so many things, but never kind, until now. His hair, in its adorable bedhead, flops over his eyes. Before, it was only almost, but now, you think, he looks completely innocent, like the type of guy you could give kisses without feeling nervous, the type of guy you wouldn’t deny as your boyfriend.

What is wrong with him?

What is wrong with you?

At the end of the day, he’s always there- you’re exclusive, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough to deserve a title?

He finds the kettle, and then sifts through the box. He sorts through different flavors with a gentle precision you’ve never seen before- is this really him? Is he the type of person that is gentle and precise?

The uneven smattering of blue-black bruises on your thighs say no.

You’re so confused that your head hurts.

“None of these flavors are any good,” Ransom says, and shakes his head. His hair shines in the morning light. “Earl Grey- who the hell drinks Earl Grey?”

“Don’t insult my tea like that,” you say, and he looks back at you and gives you a brilliant flash of a smile.

If he’s bothered at all by your denial, he never brings it up.

*** He’s too far gone.

He’s in freefall, feeling weak- he’s fucking succumbed.

To you. To your comebacks and the world-weary gaze you have of everything, to your nonsensical collection of plants and your painfully unattractive basketball shorts, to the way you laugh too loud and too little, to the way you say his name, where he can never tell if you’re happy with him or exasperated-

It’s wrong. 

But, he thinks, so are all of these other things, like drugs and alcohol and blowing money on shit he doesn’t need- and you make him feel better than any of those things ever have, so why should anybody have a problem with it? A week goes by after you tell your brother that he isn’t your boyfriend- and it doesn’t bother him, because he’s never wanted that title in the first place, never has- but it obviously bothers you. 

You’re disappointed in yourself, because you think you’re supposed to be better than him, because you’re so smart and he is so terrible.

He hopes that that’s not how you actually think. It hurts him to0 much to even consider it, and so he doesn’t, and so he thinks of how to keep his hold on you, and then he thinks of why he even wants to-

The truth is too apparent to deny.

After a week, he calls.

***

He’s very slow.

Not tired- just consumed with the sudden need to savor things. When you let yourself into his arms, Ransom treats you like you’re fragile.

“What’s up with you?” you ask, and as he stares, your voice reduces to something small. You go timid when his eyes are on yours, he realizes, and the thought sends a thrill through his body- he slowly rocks you, to calm himself.

Your shirt is off and you wear a bra with a small lace trim- not racy, but very cute- and he just keeps on staring.  

Wow, he thinks. He fucked up good.

“Nothing,” he says, and moves one hand from your waist- he has you in his lap, straddling him- up to the top of your neck. He trails down and over to your collarbone, hooking a finger into your bra strap.

You laugh, breathy and indecent.

He lifts it, subtly, and you whine, and he bites back his own.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, and kisses your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Ransom,” you gasp, with your hands splayed over his back. He slowly skims his hand over, to your back, feeling every little thing, dip and contour and curve, everything- and then unhooks it, and you are bared to him and he is breathless.

He takes you by the shoulders and twists, to bring you down, to pin you against the bed. Your comforter is dark blue, like ocean water.

Your eyes are endless, like ocean water.

“Are you upset about something?” 

Your chest rises and falls and he almost reaches for the waistband of your underwear, but stops himself. He presses a wet kiss to one of your breasts, and you arch into his mouth. He feels like you know every single secret of his, when he has told you none.

You know by accident that he’s ticklish. That’s it.

“I’m not,” he says. “I promise.”

He bends low to kiss down the length of your body, repositions his hands to hold your waist. He thinks that this is more intense- it is just his mouth and your skin and the sound of your breath hitching.

He still has it put together, remarkably well- unfathomably well.

“I feel like there’s something you’re- ah- not telling me, honey.”

That does it.

He grips your waist harder, in the way he knows you always like, so that tomorrow he will be able to retrace his steps, follow the blue-

“Say that again,” he says, and presses a soft kiss over you- even through your underwear, with its delicate lace trim, he can feel how wet and wanting and ready you are for him.

“Say- fuck- say what?”

Your hand flails, for a second, before you thread it through his hair, and yank. It hurts, pleasantly.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and shimmies it down your thighs, and you instinctively spread your legs. He puts his mouth to your slit, slicker than he imagined, and the heady arousal rushing through his mind- and everywhere else- is nearly enough to make him forget what you even said-

He is quite possibly drunk off of you alone, and he wants to slap himself, and, like, press you so close into him that you forget your way out.

With the spare glow of one lamp, you look like you’re made of gold.

He breaks away from you for a terrible moment to strip, and with one hand he teases your clit, and with the other he pumps himself, hard, once, twice, three times in anticipation-

“Don’t make me ask again,” he says, and comes back up to cup your face once more, and slips his hand back down into you at the same time, with his cock hard against your thigh- this is all quite slippery- the game you’re playing at and the risk he’s trying to take-

“Honey,” you say, and you’re smiling deliriously, but shakily. “Honey honey honey.”

“You’re killing me,” he says, and his voice, in a moment of terrible, vulnerable, unspeakable betrayal, cracks. 

“Good,” you say, but your voice is all wobbly as he lines himself up and roughly pushes into you, holding you a little tighter to keep you steady. “You deserve it.”

He kisses you openmouthed, with his teeth scraping- it’s rough and jarring, the way you always take it. Against his mouth, you swear incoherently, stringing together a litany of curses with his name thrown in between, and goddamn him- it makes him smile.

He wastes no time- he can’t be patient any longer, not when he has you under him like this, and so he goes fast, snapping into you at a bruising pace and keeping his mouth close, and rubbing at your clit, to overstimulate you and make everything faster, harsher, more immediate-

When you come you always say his name, thickly with gravel in your voice, and gasp like the breath has been stolen from your lungs. This time, when you are so far gone that he thinks you’re beyond the realms of sound, and sight, too, with your eyes tightly screwed shut, he says it, for the sake of himself.

“I think I love you-”

#the amout of times i use the word fucking #as an adverb #in this fic #is unneccesary #but theres nothing i can do about it now! #i hate ransom drysdale #the entire time i wrote this #my head was singing that lil tecca song #i got black i got white #what u want #stream ransom for good vibes! #the title really has nothing to do with the fic #i just liked the vibe of it #ok back to normal tags #ransom drysdale #ransom x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x y/n #fem!reader #ransom thrombey x reader #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey imagine #reader insert #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #chris evans #chris evans x reader #reader imagine #ransom thrombey x y/n

[comradeacerbus]

Miraak Headcannons (for fanfic)

Okay, so, I’ve been planning a Skyrim fic for some time now. I started one, but it fell through due to a lack of proper planning. Now that I know what I’m doing, I’m gonna try again! I’m just posting some notes on everyone’s favorite jackass here because I needed something to post. Obviously, since this is my fic, I’ll be referencing my granola-crunching pacifist Dragonborn, Haldis Ragnardottir.

Bethesda didn’t give us much to work with but that just makes it more interesting. I’m just getting a feel for his personality now so I can keep him consistent.

* Miraak was already getting up there in age by the time his revolt against Alduin fell through, so he’s a bit old and grey now. Maybe in his sixties physically, though he looks more past his use by date because of how Oblivion has affected his outward appearance.

* Stupidly tall because, yknow, Atmorans.

* He’s a dirty old man. He doesn’t come off that way initially, but internally, Miraak is a pervert. While he won’t get physical with women, he won’t hesitate to say something pervy.

* Just because he’s a bit pervy doesn’t mean he’s promiscuous. He certainly has game, I imagine, but he feels he’s too old to go throwing his weight around. It’s mostly for his own entertainment

* He loves to make people uncomfortable, especially our little baby Dwagonbown. Constantly picking on her, saying weird pervy shit, just constantly flustering her for his own amusement.

* A really good talker, can worm his way out of any bad situation with his words. He’s also a natural politician. He can make any insane remark and easily justify it to anyone who’s willing to listen to him.

* He’s no liar though. Not unlike Odahviing, he might not tell the whole truth, but he won’t tell much in the way of lies. He’ll just manipulate the truth. It’s no wonder he was so able to lead a cult, really.

* Literate in multiple languages. Obviously the Imperial language spoke in Tamriel and Dovahzul, but he is also fluent in Daedric and has dabbled in Falmer and Dwemer dialects as well, though he dislikes the cultures themselves as an Atmoran. He probably started looking into them out of sheer boredom in Apocrypha.

* He’s definitely looked into more than just languages in his time in Oblivion. He’s looked into various magics, histories of ancient civilizations, Aedra, Daedra, trades, and everything in between. In other words, Miraak knows his shit about a lot of things.

* In spite of how much he knows about a wide range of subjects, a jack of all trades is a master of none. He’s not talented in all the fields he’s studied, but he’s honed his main skills to a fine point. Namely the art of shouting, various styles of swordplay, and the main schools of magic.

* He frowns very strongly upon thieving and sneaking about. Subtly is one thing, but being sneaky and deceitful is a whole nother ball game to him. He dislikes the idea of assassinations, especially the use of poison. He much prefers the ancient Atmoran-Nordic tradition of openly challenging an authority figure for his seat.

* Under all the arrogance, Miraak actually does have some wisdom to him, and he does learn from his and others’ mistakes. He likes to pretend that he didn’t change after narrowly escaping Apocrypha, simply because he doesn’t want to admit that what he did was wrong, but he certainly has changed some of his views.

* Simply speaking of Oblivion’s Princes makes him uncomfortable because he wants nothing to do with them now, though he’d never admit that he’s afraid. He might be garbage in a lot of ways, but he’s definitely still human.

* Apocrypha has most certainly disfigured him, as well as the night Vahlok and his legion of Dragons burned his temple to the ground. He has some burns scars on his chest and some smaller ones on his face. They no doubt would have been worse, were it not for the metal of his mask. Apocrypha has made his skin pasty and his hair white and nasty looking no matter how much he cleans himself or walks around in the daylight. His sclera are also darkened permanently. He doesn’t wear his mask anymore, and instead prefers his hood when he returns to Tamriel, but he won’t usually show his face to anyone, aside from the Dragonborn, because he’s ashamed of what his choices have done to his body.

* He’s of an ectomorph body type. He’s super tall and towers over Haldis, but he’s not especially muscular. He’s got the broad shoulders of an early Nord, but he’s actually quite skinny. I imagine he tries his best to bulk up with his robes. The other cult leaders most certainly poked fun at him for him.

* After he and Haldis bury the hatchet and accept that they’re stuck together, I imagine he starts to see her as a niece/granddaughter/little sister figure. She doesn’t know much about shouting combatively, and he knows that her overall lack of fighting experience is likely to get her killed, so he begins teaching her from the ground up. It’s initially a thing out of necessity, but he later grows to enjoy it. Not like he’d admit it.

* He may have changed a little since his imprisonment, but he’ll still keep his pride forever. It’s what got him stuck with Herma-Mora, and it’s what got him through so much time in Oblivion.

* The main thing he was worried about for the time of his imprisonment was that he’d turn into a Seeker, but his will as a Dragonborn is likely what kept him from turning, so he’ll cling to his arrogance and his stubbornness till death does him part from Mundus.

* Yeah, he’s old fashioned and very stubborn, but he’s not unreasonable. He’ll listen to one’s argument, but with how well-spoken he is, he usually “wins” the debate, ultimately.

* Even if he is reasonable in the realm of debate, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, even if it means using or hurting people to do so. This is a result of his inner Dovah. Haldis finds this rather insufferable and it’s one of the main reasons as to why they fight.

* When he gets drunk, he’ll sort of “forget” it’s not the Merithic Era anymore and will start speaking to people in Dovahzul and then get pissy when only Haldis can understand him. He doesn’t normally like to drink in his ripe old age, though, so it’s not something that happens often.

* A similar thing will also happen when he gets angry. He never loses his temper, but when he gets frustrated, he’ll start belting out Dovahzul rapidly.

* He may also speak Dovahzul to Haldis when trying to be subtle. For example, Haldis has to deal a lot in Skyrim’s politics as a diplomat, so if Miraak needs to tell her something or remind her to say something, he’ll tell her in Dovahzul so she doesn’t look dumb.

* The Dovahzul he speaks is a different dialect, though, given their difference in age, so things have been lost in translation from time time, resulting in small, humorous mishaps. He also finds Haldis’s accent when speaking Dovahzul to be very irritating, and mocks her for it quite a bit, usually saying that she sounds like she has a speech impediment.

* As her accent gets better, in his almighty opinion, they’ll have entire conversations together in Dovahzul when they’re alone, like out on the road or something.

I might reblog and take on some more here later. This is just some basic junk that’s not really organized. Also I did not proofread but shhhh

#ao3 fanfic #planning #character notes #Miraak #headcannons #Skyrim #I don’t understand why I have a thing for Peter Jessop’s characters but that’s okay whatever #Dragonborn #yayyyy

[yiqiie]

wangxian fic rec list pt.2

you can find part one here!

as usual, this will be kept under a keep reading so it doesn’t clog up the dashboard. i actually reblogged my original post and added to it then accidentally deleted it but i have a crap ton more recommendations anyway! there’s a lot of angst in this list because apparently i love putting my heart through a meat grinder 

there are some heavy fics included this time, but i really wanted to include some that explored the issue of mental health and recovery, especially in these difficult times, so make sure you look out for the TW if those fics aren’t your cup of tea 

since tumblr’s new update prevents posts with links from appearing in the tags, i would really appreciate if people could reblog so anyone who needs a fic rec can see this! 

notion summary page: here (i only put my favourites in this tumblr list, so if you would like even more recommendations, please read the notion summary for basically all of my bookmarks on ao3) 

something to make your heart ache

tempo rubato by @spodumene 

angst, fluff, smut, multi-chaptered, modern au 

guys when i say this fic changed my life i really mean it i think i binged it all within a single night and luckily the last chapter came out the next day and i literally was beside myself with excitement; it is heartbreaking and so beautifully written, i keep going back to read it again and again it’s just THAT good 

complementarity by @besanii​

angst, fluff, multi-chaptered, cql au

i’ve always been a fan of beth’s works (if anyone wants to screech with me about her shattered mirror’s fic I AM HERE) but this was so much angst i literally felt my heart cave in on itself like it was actually painful holy shit she is such a compelling writer and this is one of my favourites even though it HURTS ME 

and here comes the summertime by ribena 

angst, fluff, multi-chaptered, modern au 

LWJ PLS USE YOUR WORDS FOR ONCE this is peak lwj being a dumbass guys i really can’t with this boy but this is such a cute fic of wangxian falling in love and you can really see how they genuinely go from being two people who have no chance of being anything to SOULMATES 

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie 

angst, trauma, modern au, trigger warning: suicide 

this fic rec is gonna kick off some of our heavier recs for the list; yiqie is definitely one of my favourite ao3 writers and i am really excited for the next update of this fic, it deals with some really important mental health topics and it doesn’t shy away from the reality of how scary things can be. i’ve personally been thinking a lot more about mental health in general during my time in isolation and it’s gotten me to reflect more on my own wellbeing as well. this is beautifully written, and obviously it’s not going to encapsulate everyone’s personal experience but i think it’s a great step in recognising that mental health is real and something we should be looking out for

there’s no promised goodbye here by @yuisakii​

angst, fluff, trauma, modern au, trigger warning: mental health

i saw this fic on twt and i thought it was gonna be a short cute wholesome fic about wangxian being broken up but not really bc wwx is dumb BUT this turned out to be so much more and i’m so appreciative; it portrays not a perfect relationship but one that is under the works and one that will undoubtedly require much more work in the future but it’s reality and it’s true and i think that makes it beautiful, there are discussions of mental health and how that affects relationships and how people learn to put themselves back together again with love and support and i think that’s the best part of this fic 

take yourself home by ribena 

angst, fluff, trauma, multi-chaptered, modern au, trigger warning: suicidal ideation 

this was a surprising fic i didn’t expect it to be as heavy as it was but it was beautifully handled and it’s so important to me to see mental health depicted in different ways; everyone deals with their problems in a different way and someone is struggling could seem objectively like they’re doing okay and i think it’s great that there’s a fic that recognises that, this also gives a little spotlight on the things that people use to try and cope with their wellbeing, it could be the smallest thing but a lot of the time that’s all it takes 

some things go forward by everythingispoetry 

angst, fluff, trauma, multi-chaptered, modern au, trigger warning: medical recovery 

this is a little lighter but i think this is one of the most important; the journey to recovery from any medical condition isn’t something to be taken lightly and i think this fic deals with almost everything that it will encapsulate, it’s a beautiful story that deals with the ups and downs of medical recovery and how you really need to learn to forgive yourself for maybe not being able to do everything you previously wanted to, it’s a hopeful story which is also so important because there is always hope for you no matter what 

something to soothe your heart 

you’ve ruined my life (by not being mine) by @nothing-but-color  

fluff, light angst, smut, multi-chaptered, modern au

guys this fic is so beautiful omfg it’s so CUTE and i think it really nails some of the characterisation it really sets up their relationship so well and it delves into some other issues of wangxian’s parents being uh not great parents lmfao but it’s just cute and wholesome and wangxian discovering the joy of being in a relationship 

this river runs to you by sundiscus 

fluff, light angst, yearning, modern au 

DRAGONS AND MAGIC GUYS HOLY SHIT this was a fic i just sat down and binged in like probably an hour and it’s SO GOOD, the plot, the characterisation, the amount of thought and care that went into developing this was so good and it’s beautiful guys truly a wonderful fic 

heliotrope (eternal love) by avenqelic 

fluff, light angst, modern au 

flowers and their meanings need i say more???? this was so wholesome and wwx is such a dumbass but we love him for it and there’s so much yearning and pining in this it’s almost angst but it’s not bc there’s so much SOFT content in this we love it 

lay us down (we’re in love) by mme_anxious 

fluff, modern au 

guys this is just a short wholesome cute fic to soothe your heart from all the angst i’ve put in this list IT’S PERFECT domestic wangxian will always trump everything as much as i love putting my heart through the works and this is just pEAK wangxian content 

it’s you, it was always you by myung 

fluff, light angst, cql au

guys wwx is such a dumbass but he’s a bby and we love him and this was such cute wholesome barely there angst content AND THE PINING wangxian are so dumb but we love them for it this was just something to truly soothe my heart as the heading suggests so yes pls read this after all the angst 

with absolute splendour by @veliseraptor​

fluff, light angst, yunmeng bros, cql au 

THIS IS THE FIC I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN WAITING FOR guys jc being an angry grape wanting to plan shijie’s and wwx’s wedding is genuinely the content i have always wanted and i’m always so sad that there’s like barely any of it but this fic captures it PERFECTLY and it’s the yunmeng reconciliation i have been praying for 

the dragon’s bride by jaws_3 

fluff, light angst, light smut, beauty and the beast au 

lwj bby you need to learn to use your words bc then THIS HAPPENS but guys this was such a cool take on beauty and the beast au and it’s pretty spectacular wangxian are DOMESTIC HUSBANDS before they are even husbands but the writing was breathtakingly good so yes pls read this 

anyway, here’s wuji by @kakikaeru 

fluff, light angst, post-cql, focus on lan jingyi 

okay this is more background wangxian BUT THIS FIC IS SO GOOD, the next one in the series (focussing on jin ling) is also spectacular so pls read them both, but guys LAN JINGYI BEST BOY and he’s in love omfg wangxian being overprotective adorable husbands looking after all their children is just what we LIVE for 

something to make you laugh 

i get religion real quick 'cause you're looking so divine by so_shyy

fluff, humour, modern au

guys wangxian being a chaotic mess but wwx being even more of a pining dumbass bc of hospital drugs is PERFECT i have probably read every single version of the cliche ‘husband waking up stoned after surgery’ but guys it’s so much wholesome content and amazing in every single way 

life, drama and action by akai__hana

fluff, social media, modern au 

whenever i have an angsty fic that makes my heart go eek i reach for this fic bc it’s a reminder that WANGXIAN IS HAPPILY MARRIED WITH A SUN THANK YOU and they are living their best lives as husbands in every life so this is just so cute short and wholesome we LIVE for this content 

besieged by @ariaste 

fluff, light smut, humour, post-cql 

another fic for reaffirmation that wangxian are being overprotective husbands and our bby a-yuan is not really a baby anymore and it’s just so DOMESTIC and such good content and we really love every single reminder that wangxian are just happy and together and they’re SOULMATES okay 

worth the entire universe and more by @xiellian​

fluff, humour, modern au

this was fcking hilarious guys i read it right after one of my angsts and it’s just SO WHOLESOME wwx you’re so dumb we love you so much but you’re truly dumb also lwj bby pls use your words this was such a cute concept and just a pinch of domestic wangxian i needed in my day 

a quest (for kisses) by @xiellian​

fluff, humour, post-cql 

ANOTHER DOMESTIC WANGXIAN FIC guys i can literally picture this happening bc wangxian are insufferable and are hellbent on letting the whole entire world know they are IN LOVE and that they ARE SOULMATES and we forgive them bc they ARE 

#mai's fic rec list! #the untamed #fytheuntamed #mdzsnet #chen qing ling #wangxian fics #wangxian #mo dao zu shi #pls reblog if you can! #the notion page honestly looks so much prettier lmfao

[elijahs-wife]

I Like You A Latte

Requested by @dumble-daddy​ - “coffee!!!! shop!!!! au!!!! where the barista keeps writing bad pickup lines on bby elijah’s cup every time he orders a drink!!! and he just looks at them like!!!! dAMN!!!!” I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS!! I hope you like it!!!💗💓

Like/reblog if you enjoyed reading <3

Pairing: Human! Elijah x Female! Reader

Word Count: 2370+

Warnings: hmmm none

Monday mornings in Manhattan can be one of two things: they can either be an inspiring start to your week or sheer hell, and for Y/N it seemed to be shifting towards the latter today. She dashed out of the subway and started running for her life – she was going to be late for her shift at Starbucks, and her insufferable manager would have her head. Six minutes to 8 am, she thought, checking her watch, okay, I can get there in four. "Shit, I'm sorry!" she yelled as she bumped hard into a woman's shoulder, who gave her a dirty look, but she couldnt risk stopping. 

The infamous green logo was finally in visibility, and in a minute she was bursting through the side doors into the kitchen, then bending from the waist clutching the excruciating stitch in her side. "Damn, girl", her friend and colleague Cami said, laughing and looking concerned at the same time, "what happened to you?"

Y/N couldn't speak from all the panting, she staggered over to an empty countertop and tied her apron strings while she caught her breath. "Oh God", she said, still slightly breathless, "I woke up so late today, I had to run all the way from the damn subway to here." Cami shot her a sympathetic grimace. "We should probably get out there before Tristan has a cow", she said, and both of them rushed through the door to the front counter. As usual, the place was fairly crowded with college students and sophisticated professionals alike. Y/N saw Tristan glare menacingly at the two of them, but since they weren't technically late he couldn't make a comment.

In an hour's time, Y/N felt as though she had served about three hundred Americanos and sugary sweet Frappuccinos, and she was already tired of it. In all honesty, she hated being a barista, but it was a means to an end, so four days a week she plastered a smile on her face and made people's coffee and mopped floors and took out trash. She needed the money to help pay off her student loans, not to mention rent. She saw her next customer walk up to the till out of the corner of her eye. "Good morning!" she said, keeping her voice unbearably chipper, "I'm Y/N, how can I help you today?" Her voice wavered as she got a proper look at him – he was probably the most handsome man she'd ever seen. He didn't look that much older than her, maybe three or four years at most, but everything about him screamed 'money', from his perfectly coiffed hair to the tailored suit to the expensive watch on his wrist. "Hello", he said with a crooked smile. His voice was deep, with an unusual yet captivating accent. "I'd like a tall latte with an extra shot, please." Y/N mentally pulled herself together and quickly took his order down.

"Can I get your name?", she asked, half because it was her job and the other half out of personal curiosity. "I'm Elijah", he replied. "Elijah. Cool name", she said, her wide smile becoming borderline manic with every passing second. God, he's hot. Who let him walk in here looking like freaking Adonis? "Excuse me", she heard him say distantly, snapping her back to reality. "I'm running a bit late, so if you wouldn't mind..."

"Yes! Of course, um, that'll be $3.75", she told him, feeling the embarrassment creeping up her neck. He handed her a five dollar bill, and slipped the change that she gave him back into the tip jar. Walking over to the coffee machine where Cami was working, Y/N swooned silently while she took a peek at Elijah. "Holy crap, that guy you're serving is crazy hot", she whispered. "I know right?!" Y/N whispered back, as she pushed a few buttons, waiting for the machine to pour out his drink. She fidgeted nervously, debating the extremely bad idea that was running through her mind. "Okay, you know how you say I never do anything crazy, or take risks? I'm about to do something crazy", she said in a rush, picking up his latte and slapping a lid on it. She scribbled his name on the cup, plus a little something extra, and headed to the other end of the counter. "I have a tall latte, extra shot for Elijah!" she called out. He made his way through a small crowd of people to the front. "Thank you", he said to her, giving her a friendly smile as he took the cup from her. "You're welcome and have a great day!"

"What did you do?" Cami asked, confusion on her face. "I may have written a coffee-related pick up line on his cup", she replied, covering her mouth with her hands. "Y/N! You did not just do that!" Cami said, shocked at her friend's sudden courage. "Well he's never been here before and I'll probably never see him again, so I figured why not?" she reasoned, as Cami burst out laughing. A furious voice suddenly boomed behind them. "I do not pay you two to chat." Both of them nervously turned around in unison. "Get back to work", Tristan scoffed. "Sorry, Tristan", they muttered apologetically, and back to work they went.

-

Elijah got in the back seat of the car waiting outside, and motioned for the driver to start moving. He was already ten minutes late for his first day at work: not a great way to set a good example. The traffic in Manhattan was so much heavier than back home in New Orleans. His feet tapped the floor of the car as though of their own accord – he was nervous to head an office on his own, without Father's help, and when he was nervous, coffee helped. As he took the first satisfying sip, he noticed something scrawled on the side of his cup, and took a closer look. Right below his name in small, untidy writing read, If you were ground coffee, you'd be espresso cause you're so fine. He almost dropped the cup in his initial shock – he wasn't used to such boldness – but then couldn't help but let out a long, loud laugh. Smooth move, Y/N, he thought sarcastically. He decided then that he would be coming back to that particular Starbucks a lot more in the future.

‐The next day-

Through the onslaught of yesterday's business meetings, Elijah found his mind continually wandering back to that terribly corny line on his coffee cup, and to her – and that's why he was standing outside the coffee shop again, in the hopes of seeing her. It took gumption and a certain lack of shame to take a shot like she did, and he liked that. But it was when he walked through the doors and caught sight of her behind the counter that he realised just how pretty she was, with eyes like stars and skin that glowed like a sunset. He waited in line impatiently for his turn.

Y/N was having a decent morning so far: thankfully she managed to get to work on time, and she was feeling weirdly cheerful after her stint with yesterday's hot guy. Thank God I'll never see him again, she thought, inwardly snickering, could you imagine the horror– "Hello", she heard a familiar voice say from behind. She froze at the sound of it. Good Lord, that's him.

Elijah noticed her eyes widen at the sight of him for just a moment before she composed herself. "Good morning!" she said in an unnaturally chirpy voice that he assumed was solely for the workplace, "I'm Y/N, what can I get you today?" He gave an amused chuckle. "I remember your name, Miss. And I'd like one tall latte with an extra shot please, same as yesterday." She took down his order, feeling his stare burning into her. "That'll be $3.75." He handed over the money, and put the change into the tip jar again. "Oh, it's Elijah, right?" she asked him, trying her hardest to be nonchalant. He hummed and nodded in response, and she turned around to walk away. "By the way," she heard him say behind her, "you're quite the writer, aren't you?" Her head whipped around to look at him. "I wasn't quite so impressed though. I think you can do better." A faint smirk formed on his lips, and he looked at her as though challenging her. She narrowed her eyes a degree and smirked back before walking off. He wanted more, well, he was gonna get it. She scribbled the cheesiest line she could think of onto the cup, laughing to herself at how bad it was.

He was waiting for her at the other end of the counter. "Here's your drink", she said, handing it to him with a smug smile on her face. "I hope you enjoy it." He laughed quietly. "I'm sure I will. You have a good day", he said, raising his cup to her and then walking out.

Elijah waited until he was back inside his car to read it. Bean thinking about you a latte and you are mocha me crazy! He burst out laughing, and couldn't stop smiling to himself the whole car ride long.

-

Over the next few days, Elijah bought several drinks in exchange for more gems like You are just the way I like my coffee. Tall, dark and strong, and Careful, hot coffee! Oh wait, nevermind, not as hot as you. It became something that both of them looked forward to, until he stopped showing up. It been a week since she had seen him last, and every morning she would search through the crowd for him, to no avail.

"Hey," Cami said, sidling up to Y/N, trying to avoid Tristan's line of sight, "haven't seen your hot rich guy for a minute. What gives?" Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically. "First of all, his name is Elijah, and secondly, he is not my hot rich guy so I have no idea where he is." Just then, she thought she caught a glimpse of his car rolling up outside, and suddenly, there he was, as godly as ever. "Speak of the devil", Cami whispered teasingly. "Shut up", Y/N mouthed.

He made his way over to her in just a few strides. "Hey!" she exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him. "Haven't seen you around in a while." He looked just as happy to see her. "I had to go back home for some time. Family drama", he explained. "I get that", she replied, "so what can I get ya?"

"The usual, please", he said, grinning, giving her the money. "Coming right up!" she said, about to turn away. "Oh, wait", he said. "I brought my own cup, if that's alright." He handed over a matte black reusable cup. "That's great", she said, taking it. "I'll have your drink ready in a minute."

Damn, even his coffee cup is fancy, she thought, turning it over in her hands to see his initials engraved on the side – E.M. She took off the lid, and to her surprise, found a folded up piece of paper inside. She took it out and unfolded it – it was a handwritten note, in penmanship just as immaculate as his suits. She read it discreetly so that no one could see.

Y/N,

The entire week that I was with my family, I found myself unable to stop thinking about you and your ghastly pick up lines. If you wouldn't mind, I would love to take you out someday. So... java number I can call you on?

Fondly, Elijah.

She blushed furiously and stuffed the note inside her pocket. As she waited for the machine to pour out his drink, she thought of what to write back. Of course she would love to go out with him, but she needed to think of something witty to say. Grabbing a tissue, she carefully wrote her reply on it, and placed it under his cup. He watched her walk towards him with a strange smile on his face.

"Here you go", she said quietly, brushing his hand accidentally-on-purpose as she handed him the cup. His skin was warm and rough. "Thank you", he replied, as he spotted what looked like a phone number on the tissue. He took a quick look at it.

Elijah,

I knew there was something brewing between the two of us. Yes, I'd love to go out with you. Call me :)

Y/N

He laughed softly to himself. She looked at him expectantly, wondering if he might say anything. "So I guess I'll see you soon, then", he said, eyes twinkling. "I guess you will", she replied, smiling back at him. Unexpectedly, he shot a sly wink at her, and she felt the blood rush back to her cheeks as he walked out the door.

-

As Y/N got back to her tiny studio apartment that night after work and class, she heard the muffled sound of her ringtone. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she saw an unknown number flashing on her screen. She answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello", she heard the familiar deep voice say. "This is Elijah." She chuckled, "I know it's you. Are you calling to say you miss my puns already?" It was his turn to laugh now. "As a matter of fact, I do miss them. So, I was wondering if I could hear some more this Friday over dinner." She shifted her weight from side to side, playing with an errant lock of hair. She had half-expected him to not call at all. "Um, yeah, yes. Friday is good, it's great." God, why am I so awkward, she thought, smacking the side of her head.

He wished she could see the smile on his face. "Great. I'll text you the details soon", he said. "Cool", she said, trying to hide the excitement in her voice. "Um, I should go. Gotta get up early tomorrow."

"Of course. I look forward to seeing you soon. Goodnight, Y/N", he said. "Goodnight", she said as she flopped onto her bed, an irrepressible grin on her face. She already knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

#elijah mikaelson #elijah x reader #elijah imagines #the originals #the originals fanfiction

[noona-clock]

What’s Your Sign?: Leo

Genre: Road Trip!AU

Pairing: Jiyong x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mild cursing, Mentions of serial killers/death

Words: 6,291

Author’s Note: Since I’m so fascinated by astrology, I decided to do a Zodiac series! I will be writing a one-shot fic for each sign featuring different members from different groups (and even an actor!). Each story will be posted on the 5th of the month during that sign’s season. Please reblog, comment, or send in an ask with your feedback! Thank you for your support 💜

“Why do you keep looking at the map?” Jiyong asked for probably the eighteenth time.

“Because,” you muttered through clenched teeth -- for probably the eighteenth time. “I don’t trust your navigation skills, and I think we’re lost!”

Actually, you’d thought he’d gotten lost about two hours ago. If only you’d had the courage to tell him back then -- the two of you would be back on the right track now!

...Oh, wait.

You had told him back then! He, being the insufferable, stubborn ass that he was, just hadn’t listened! And now you were still lost!

Though, not according to him.

“We are not lost,” he sighed, his annoyance very obvious as he spoke to you. “I know exactly where I’m going, so just calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” you retorted.

You quickly snapped your gaze back to the map because you knew Jiyong’s response to your words would be a frustratingly annoying roll of his eyes, and you weren’t sure what you would do if you saw him roll his eyes at you. Your patience was already hanging by a thread -- it could (and likely would) snap at any time.

But looking back at the map reminded you that... you had no idea where you were.

“I can’t even find where we are on the map!” you pointed out, your forehead wrinkled with both irritation and concern.

“I told you,” Jiyong sighed. “I know where we are. Just put the map down, you’re getting --”

“Don’t,” you interrupted harshly. “Even finish that sentence.”

To be honest, you were actually kind of afraid what you would’ve done if he had finished that sentence. Absolutely nothing good, of that you were certain.

Thankfully -- and somewhat surprisingly -- Jiyong took your advice, pressing his lips together and continuing on driving.

Also somewhat surprisingly, you took Jiyong’s advice and put the map down. It was very clear he didn’t know where he was going, but it was also very clear that he wasn’t going to admit it. He was just going to keep driving until... well, you had absolutely no idea. Until he fell asleep, probably. And then where would you be?

With an internal sigh, you leaned over and pressed your forehead against the cool glass of his car window, closing your eyes and trying to think of exactly what to say to your best friend when you finally saw her again.

You wouldn’t even be in this mess if it wasn’t for her, after all. This was all her fault! ...Sort of. Right now, she was the easiest person to blame, so that’s what you were going to do. Blame her -- and her soon-to-be husband, of course.

Okay, here’s the backstory of how you’d gotten to this point: Your best friend had been dating Jiyong’s best friend since your university days. You had met Jiyong several times, obviously, but you’d never actually hung out, gotten to know each other, or become friends in any way, shape, or form. Not because you didn’t want to, just... because you didn’t. Jiyong had majored in music production, and you had majored in cognitive science with a focus on artificial intelligence.

So, basically, the two of you had lived in two completely different worlds.

But, now, quite a few years after graduating, your best friends were getting married.

Jiyong had been chosen as the Best Man for the groom, and you had been chosen as the Maid of Honor for the bride. But you hadn’t really had to interact or plan anything with each other... until now.

For some reason you really and truly couldn’t explain, the bride and groom had chosen to have a joint bachelor and bachelorette party up in some remote cabin in the mountains -- a perfect setting for a horror film, in your opinion.

But what’s even worse: they had asked you and Jiyong to go up ahead of time to get things ready.

Together.

In the same car.

For... bonding time.

So, that’s how you’d gotten here. In the car. With Jiyong. Lost. On some practically deserted, hardly paved, winding road with no cell phone service (hence the paper map you’d had to resort to).

“Oh, come on,” Jiyong chuckled. “We’re almost there, trust me.”

You weren’t even going to dignify that with a response -- mainly because you didn’t want to divulge your trust issues to someone you barely knew. But also because you just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of any sort of reply.

But when you just barely lifted your eyelids, you noticed that the sun was beginning to set.

Great.

If you had been in charge of this little road trip, the two of you would be at the cabin right now. But, no. You had been too nice and had let Jiyong drive, and now look where that had gotten you: in the middle of nowhere.

And you would never, ever, ever admit to him that the reason you’d been too nice and had let him drive was because you were actually kind of scared of him.

You didn’t even want to admit that to yourself.

But you worked with technology all day! Machines, you were used to. People... not so much.

And Jiyong was just... a lot. He was quiet on the outside but definitely not on the inside.

He was supremely confident and wildly intimidating, two traits you’d never quite gotten the hang of.

Although, he did occasionally sport some wild hair colors -- currently, his locks were a nice mix of bright orange and fiery red -- so he wasn’t always quiet on the outside.

But, anyway -- his supreme confidence wasn’t going to help you now because whether he knew it or not, you were, indeed, very, very lost. And it was going to be getting dark within the hour.

You then spotted a building way up ahead, sitting up straight and squinting to try and make out what it was.

“If you know where we are,” you began, not doing anything to hide the skepticism in your voice. “Then what is that?”

“That... is a building,” Jiyong answered.

“Oh, wow,” you scoffed. “Now I definitely believe that you know where we are. There’s no way you could’ve known that was a building without being familiar with this area.”

You took a risk and glanced over at him, but instead of seeing some smug, smarmy expression on his face... he was smiling. But not in a way that made you want to slap it right off his lips. His smile was... like... amused. And then you realized he was laughing.

“Well, I’m glad you think you’re funny because I certainly don’t,” you told him, your brow knit together so tightly that you were fairly certain you would have a headache soon.

Jiyong sputtered out a chuckle, returning your gaze briefly as he sported a pretty adorable grin on his face.

Oh, god. Why had you just thought his grin was adorable?

I mean... objectively, it was adorable. When he wasn’t smiling, he looked scary and threatening and like he was meticulously plotting your slow demise.

But when he smiled? It lit up his face and his eyes crinkled and you could see just a smidge more of his gums than your average smile and just -- he looked like a totally different person in a very good way.

But no matter how adorable his grin was and no matter how much his face was transformed by it, he was still an overly arrogant piece of --

“What?” he said with a somewhat taunting lilt to his voice. “It is a building.”

You simply replied with a scowl. Not only because you were not amused by his observation but also because he had interrupted your thoughts before you could properly, in your mind, call him an overly arrogant piece of --

“Okay, okay,” he relented. “Since you’re so concerned, I’ll stop at that building and make sure we’re going the right way. Because we are.”

“What if that building turns out to be abandoned? Or the house of a serial killer?” you asked, deciding to just give up on calling him silent names and turning away to look out the window. 

Jiyong simply shrugged. “Then we keep going. Or we die.”

“Uh, excuse me,” you sputtered. “There is no we. You’re getting out of this car by your damn self.”

“But we’re supposed to be bonding,” he pointed out, and even though you were no longer looking at him, you could so very clearly hear the smirk in his tone.

“Dying together is not my idea of quality bonding time.”

A breathy chuckle escaped through Jiyong’s nose, and you looked back over at him with a very triumphant expression.

“See? You’re not the only one who can be funny,” you quipped.

“So, you admit what I said was funny,” he stated rather than asked.

“You thought it was funny.”

“And that’s really all that matters,” he nodded. “At least to me.”

At that, you merely raised your eyebrows and, yet again, shifted your gaze toward the car window. 

There was semi-awkward silence between the two of you as Jiyong drove up to the building -- which turned out to be just a house, presumably. After parking off to the side of the road you’d been traveling, Jiyong turned off the car and leaned forward a bit in his seat to look at you.

“You sure you don’t wanna come with me?” he asked, his voice low as the engine cutting off had made it eerily silent.

“Oh, I’m sure,” you nodded. “You go right ahead.”

Jiyong took the keys out of the ignition then, jingling them a little before closing his fist around them. “Well, I’m taking these.”

“I wasn’t going to drive off without you!” you scoffed.

“Yeah, but now if I do get abducted by a serial killer, you have to come in and rescue me if you want to escape.”

...Okay, you had to admit. That was... kind of a genius plan.

Damn it.

“Just go,” you sighed with a weary shake of your head.

Jiyong murmured an ‘okay’ before unlocking the car door and hoisting himself out. You jumped slightly when he slammed it closed, but your eyes never left him as he loped up toward the house.

Your heart began to race as he approached the front door. You gulped anxiously when he lifted one hand and knocked. You clenched your fists in your lap when the door opened.

A short, middle-aged woman answered, and you almost immediately eased up a bit. She certainly didn’t fit the serial killer profile, and Jiyong was quite a few inches taller than her. He was skinny as a rail, but he could still probably take her if he had to.

You were too far away to make out any of the conversation between them, but the woman’s body language and expression both seemed very warm and welcoming. If you were a gambler, you would bet she was giving Jiyong directions to lead him to the right way.

Jiyong simply stood there nodding, though you knew without a doubt he was taking every and any opportunity to smooth-talk her.

Then, suddenly, Jiyong turned around and gestured to you, his lips curved into a smile. The woman waved at you, and you lifted one hand to awkwardly wave back.

If she was just giving him directions, why in the world would he bring you into it? There was no need for the woman to know about or wave at you... What, exactly, was he doing?

After another minute or two of conversation, the woman began to back into her house, one hand on the side of the front door as she got ready to close it. Jiyong, on the other hand, turned sideways a bit in preparation for turning around and heading back to the car. He quickly put his hands together palm-to-palm in front of his chest and bowed slightly to the woman, thanking her before turning on his heel and striding toward you.

Your eyes got wider as you watched him head, not for the driver’s side, but to the passenger’s side -- to your side. Why was he coming over here? And he had the keys, so you couldn’t roll the window down.

When he got to his car, he reached for your door handle and pulled it open. You instinctively leaned back a little, but then he leaned forward, ducking his head into the car and getting uncomfortably close to you.

“So, yeah,” he murmured. “We’re lost, and the closest way back is the way we came, but I don’t have enough gas to get us back there, and it’ll be too dark to drive soon.”

Before you could let out a victorious ha! and rub it in his face that you’d been right all along, Jiyong continued.

“This happens on occasion, so the woman who lives here has set up an extra room for people like us to stay in overnight.”

“Are you --”

“It’s our only choice,” he cut in, his voice sharp. “Either that or we sleep in the car.”

You honestly weren’t sure which one sounded less appealing: sleeping in a stranger’s house in the middle of nowhere or sleeping in Jiyong’s car in the middle of nowhere.

Well, at least in a house, there was food. And better protection from bears. Or mountain lions. Or whatever creatures lived around here.

So, you relented with a sigh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he muttered.

You moved to undo your seatbelt, but Jiyong stopped you with a soft clear of his throat.

“Oh, and... uh... but there is this... one... stipulation.”

You paused, furrowing your brow with confusion and tilting your head up to look at him. “...What?”

“So... here’s the thing.”

Oh, you did not like the sound of that.

“Just tell me,” you ground out.

“She only has one room, and I had to tell her we’re engaged otherwise I don’t think she would’ve let us stay here.”

...Your heart jumped into your throat. Your stomach fell down to your feet.

You stared at him, blinking.

And then you finally managed to get out, “You had to tell her what now?”

“She asked if I was alone, so I said I wasn’t and that’s when I turned around to show her you were waiting in the car, and then she asked if you were my wife, so obviously, I said you weren’t, but then she started to say something that sounded like she really doesn’t let just anyone in -- I mean, you can’t blame her because, like you said, there could be serial killers. So, I just blurted out that we’re engaged and will be married soon, and she said that was perfect and we can stay for the night.”

So... if you were hearing him correctly, the woman inside that house -- the only building around for miles, so it seems, and the only way you’ll be sleeping safely for the night -- was letting you and Jiyong stay here under the misconception that the two of you were... engaged? To be married?

You inhaled deeply, letting it out very slowly before politely and quietly asking Jiyong to let you get out of the car.

He stepped aside, and you methodically unbuckled your seatbelt. You swung your legs over the side of your seat, and you put your feet on the ground. You stood up, and you turned to face Jiyong.

And then you reached out and hit his upper arm.

“Are you crazy?!” you hissed, feeling your frown on every inch of your face.

“Ouch!”

“Oh, we haven’t even scratched the surface of ouch,” you warned him before hitting him again. “Why -- why would you tell her that we’re engaged?!”

When you geared up for another hit, Jiyong’s hand darted out to grab onto your wrist. “Didn’t you hear me?! I don’t think she was going to let us stay here if we weren’t! She must be one of those super old-fashioned ladies -- I mean, come on. We’re in the middle of nowhere. The last time she watched something current on TV was probably decades ago.”

“But still! Engaged?!” you cried, using every mental muscle in your body to not sound like a shrill witch.

“I’m sorry! It didn’t feel like I had a choice, and I panicked!”

“Yeah, you should be sorry! You’re the one who got us lost in the first place, and you wouldn’t have been in the situation to panic if you had just listened to me!”

Jiyong carefully let go of your wrist, though he still kept his hand up at the ready in case he needed to protect himself again. And then he plastered a very convincingly apologetic expression on his features.

“You... are right. You’re right. I did get us lost, and if I had listened to you, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. I’m sincerely sorry, and I understand and accept that you have every right to be angry with me.”

Your jaw fell open with utter shock.

...All of those words had really come out of his mouth?

His mouth? Jiyong’s mouth?

“When we actually get to the cabin, I give you full permission to shit talk me as much as you need to, but tonight... I really need you to play along. Without this lady’s help, we’ll probably just get lost again, and we won’t get any gas or food, so we just --”

“Okay, fine,” you interrupted. “I just have one question.”

Jiyong’s eyebrows rushed up his forehead, and he waited for you to ask it.

You simply lifted up your left hand, your palm facing you, and wiggled your fingers. “Where’s my ring?”

“I, being so much in love to the point of distraction, bought a ring that was too big, so it’s at the jeweler’s getting resized.”

Your head jerked back with surprise. “Wha -- um... you thought of that really quickly.”

“What can I say?” Jiyong smirked, lifting his shoulders in smug satisfaction. “I’m quick on my feet. She said she’s putting dinner on the table right now, so just leave all the talking to me.”

Well. Humble, repentant Jiyong had been nice while he’d lasted.

God, this was so painful.

After lugging your overnight bags into the house, you and Jiyong had almost immediately sat down to dinner with Mrs. Elderberry, and she had almost immediately started asking about the two of you.

You had been incredibly curious to hear what Jiyong would come up with, but to your slight disappointment, he had basically told her the actual story of how you knew each other -- you had gone to university together and your best friends had dated each other. He had simply added on that you had fallen in love and were now getting ready to be married.

And, apparently, your first date had been to an old-fashioned drive-in movie theater. Mrs. Elderberry had thoroughly enjoyed that, and it was then you realized just how smart Jiyong was.

Not when it came to directions, of course, but when it came to people. He knew your hostess for the night was old-fashioned, so he’d thought of an old-fashioned first date to endear the two of you as a couple to her.

She had also believed his story about getting your ring resized, so you decided that leaving all the talking to Jiyong (he’d explained that you were frightfully shy) had actually been a good idea.

But still. It was painful. Listening to Jiyong wax poetic about how in love the two of you were was not a pleasant dinner soundtrack. Or one you’d ever thought you’d have to experience.

Ever.

Though... you had to admit... the way he described you to Mrs. Elderberry was scarily accurate. He knew your job, he knew you were shy and reserved unless it mattered (like when he had gotten you more lost than you’d ever been in your life -- you certainly hadn’t been willing to keep quiet about that), he knew you preferred video games over books even though you did still like books, and he knew you were a cat person. He even called you “smart as a whip.”

At the end of the meal, Jiyong volunteered the two of you for clean up duty, something which you heartily agreed to since Mrs. Elderberry had refused to take any money for the room.

Your hostess shuffled into her living room to “catch up on her stories” -- though when you heard the television come on, you definitely heard the theme song for a soap opera that was at least twenty years old... -- and you sidled up next to Jiyong at the sink to help with the dishes.

And since this whole situation was just absurd, you found your shyness had basically vanished completely. So, you came out and asked, “How do you know so much about me? Everything you told her was true, and it kind of freaked me out, to be honest.”

Jiyong lifted one shoulder into a half-shrug, letting out a breathless chuckle as he rinsed off a plate. “I’m just observant. I pick up on things easily, and I get to know people quickly.”

“That’s... impressive,” you admitted.

He murmured his thanks, and then the two of you continued on doing the dishes in companionable silence.

As soon as the kitchen was clean, Jiyong poked his head into the living room and let Mrs. Elderberry know the two of you had been in the car for so long today and were simply exhausted and were going to head up to bed.

...You froze right there at the sink.

How had you completely forgotten about that? The whole... sleeping situation. The fact that Mrs. Elderberry had a room -- one. One room. A single room.

And there were two of you.

And if she wouldn’t let an unmarried -- or unengaged -- couple spend the night here, you had to assume there was just one bed.

“Hey, you coming?” Jiyong murmured, interrupting your thoughts and making you jump a little bit.

“Hmm? Oh -- yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”

He raised one eyebrow at you, obviously suspicious of your awkward stammering. “Are... you okay?”

You just nodded quickly but, apparently, it was enough for Jiyong because he headed over to your bags and picked both of them up to carry upstairs.

“Up the stairs, first door on your left!” Mrs. Elderberry called out as you began to ascend the staircase following Jiyong.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Elderberry,” Jiyong called out in response. “We truly appreciate this.”

“Yeah, unless she kills us in our sleep,” you muttered.

“Good night!” Jiyong cried, but you knew he’d heard you. And, sure enough, once he reached the landing at the top of the stairs, he turned to you with a reprimanding expression. “You really think she could kill us?”

“Did you watch and make sure she was eating from the same serving plates as us? Our dinner could have been poisoned.”

You knew it wasn’t likely -- in the least -- but still! You never know!

“Okay, if anyone is going to kill you, it’s going to be one of those robots you work with,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“That is absolutely not true. And I don’t work with robots! I just help design smart AI --”

Jiyong opened his mouth to interject, but you finished your sentence before he had the chance.

“For tech support chats. You know when you’re on shopping websites and that little thing pops up asking if you need help?”

“...That’s you?”

“That’s me,” you grinned. “Well. Kind of. I help design it. And make it smarter.”

“Ah... so... you’re not helping build an army of robots who are going to eventually take over the world?”

You shook your head. “No. Not yet. But probably someday.”

Jiyong snorted with amusement before turning and heading to the first door on the left, standing aside to allow you to open it since he was carrying both of your overnight bags.

Even though you knew there would only be one bed, you had still held out some hope that maybe -- just maybe -- there would be two smaller ones instead of one bigger one. If Mrs. Elderberry was truly old-fashioned, she would’ve set up her guest room like the mom and dad’s bedrooms on those black and white television shows -- the kind where they slept in separate beds even though they were married.

But, alas. When you opened the door... there it was.

The one bed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” you said hastily, not even waiting a second after closing the door behind you.

You were expecting Jiyong to let you, but surprisingly, he replied with, “No, that’s okay. I got it. I’m the one who got us into this, so it’s only fair.”

Would you ever get used to Jiyong admitting he had been wrong? For as long as you’d known him, you’d never witnessed him do that -- and now, he had done it twice. In the same night.

“Are you sure? You could probably use a comfortable mattress. You must be exhausted from accepting so much guilt tonight.”

“Hey, now,” Jiyong chuckled. “When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong.”

“Uh, only after you’ve found unavoidable proof that you are,” you pointed out. “Do you remember how many times I said we were lost?”

“Yeah, well --”

“You just don’t trust me,” you said, half-teasing but half-serious. He had every right not to trust you, though -- you’d known each other for a long time but not well enough to have developed any sort of trust.

Plus, you still had the aforementioned trust issues, but we won’t get into that.

“I thought I knew where I was going!”

“So, you just wouldn’t even listen to me,” you tsked. And then you let out a soft gasp. “You wouldn’t listen to me because I’m a girl, and girls are bad with directions!”

Jiyong had been rifling around in his bag to find his toothbrush, but your words made him spring up and look at you aghast.

“That’s not true!”

“Oh, really?” you smirked. “You just honestly thought you were 100% right and there was no way you could be wrong?”

And then something happened you truly never expected: Jiyong looked... embarrassed. And shy. 

“No...” he said slowly, drawing the word out in a very unconfident manner.

What was going on? You’d only ever seen Jiyong in a state of complete self-assurance, so this was kind of throwing you off-balance.

“I just...” he continued, lifting one shoulder into a half-shrug. “I didn’t want to look stupid in front of you.”

You almost choked on the air you were breathing.

Jiyong? Didn’t want to look stupid? In front of you?

“Wh --”

“You’re, like, crazy smart,” he interrupted. “And I guess... I just wanted to prove that...”

But he trailed off and didn’t finish his sentence, leaving you just as dismayed.

“But... I mean, you kind of are a genius,” you pointed out after a few awkward moments.

“Yeah, when it comes to music.”

Ah. There was the confidence. But, according to your best friend, he really was a bomb music producer. So, his confidence wasn’t unfounded in this particular instance.

“Well, I certainly couldn’t create or produce or even sing a song if my life depended on it. That’s something I can’t figure out with an algorithm.”

“True,” Jiyong replied softly with a little chuckle. And then he waved his toothbrush at you and said, “Well, I’m gonna get ready for bed, I guess.”

You shot him a swift grin before he headed to the small en suite bathroom, and when you heard the door close behind him, you dashed to your own bag so you could change into your pajamas before he came back out.

You had no idea what time it was, and at this point, you were too afraid to look. You only knew you’d been lying in bed -- in Mrs. Elderberry’s guest bed in Mrs. Elderberry’s house in the middle of nowhere -- for a very long time, and you hadn’t been able to manage one wink of sleep.

And... by the sounds of it. Jiyong hadn’t been able to, either. He had been fairly quiet and still so far, but just a few moments ago, you heard the telltale signs of tossing and turning.

Since you were awake... and since you now knew he was awake... you would feel kind of awkward if you didn’t say anything.

“Jiyong,” you whispered hesitantly into the darkness of the room.

“Hmm?”

“Okay, just making sure you were actually awake.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Can’t sleep. You?”

“Nope.”

He moved around again, and this time, you saw his silhouette move into a sitting position and turn to fluff the pillow you’d given him.

“You can’t sleep because... you’re too uncomfortable?” you guessed. Your heart began to beat just a bit quicker because you knew what you were going to follow-up with if he said ‘yes.’

“...I mean, yeah. It’s the floor.”

And here we go.

“Just come up here. The bed is big enough.”

Unsurprisingly, Jiyong didn’t answer right away. He waited a couple of moments before replying with a very wary, “...Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure right now, but if you wait too long, I’ll probably change my mind.”

You immediately heard some rustling, and not even ten seconds later, the side of the bed next to you dipped down.

“I don’t know if it’ll help much,” you whispered, keeping your eyes glued on the ceiling. “Because I’m still awake, but it’s gotta be better than the floor.”

Jiyong let out a satisfied sigh, and for some reason, the sound of it made a tiny smile appear at the corners of your lips.

“Much better,” he murmured. “Thanks.”

You simply hummed in response, and then the room went quiet again.

That is, until you found yourself asking something which had been on your mind for... well, however long ago it was that he’d said this.

“Why did you not want to look stupid in front of me?” you asked with an almost undetectable waver in your voice -- almost. It was definitely there because you were definitely nervous, both to have him lying right beside you and to hear his answer.

“You just couldn’t let it go, huh?” Jiyong chuckled. You could tell he turned over, and when he spoke next, his voice was more clear -- he had turned over to face you. “I didn’t want to look stupid in front of you because I think you’re cool.”

A laugh burst from your chest, and you immediately brought a hand up to cover your mouth, not wanting to wake your gracious hostess. “I’m sorry, what?” you choked out. “Me? Cool? I am not cool.”

“You are to me.”

“But... I’m a technology, video game nerd. It’s a well-known fact that you are the cool one.” You glanced over at him, but only briefly. Your heart was racing enough as it was; looking at him would only make it worse.

“You’re authentic,” he replied. “You’re genuine. You don’t care what other people think. You’re 100% totally yourself, and to me... that’s cool.”

Your forehead had started wrinkling as he’d started answering you, and the wrinkles had only gotten deeper as he’d kept talking.

“I... I had... no idea you thought that,” you said with a breathless laugh of disbelief. “Why didn’t you ever tell me before?”

“Because I just started thinking you were cool earlier today,” he answered without missing a beat.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, reaching out absently with your hand and swatting his shoulder -- or, at least, you thought it was his shoulder. You still weren’t facing or looking at him.

“No, in all seriousness... I just... didn’t think you’d care.”

And you could definitely understand why he would’ve thought that. Because you’d thought the same thing.

You finally turned your head to the side, meeting his gaze through the darkness. “I thought the same thing about you. I thought you were way too cool for me, and there was no way you’d ever want to be friends with a geek like me.”

“So, we both were idiots then, huh? Me more than you, of course.”

Your brow knit together in confusion. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’m a guy.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, your lips curving into a smile. “Well, yeah. I can agree with that.”

“So... are we friends now?” he asked -- and you could’ve sworn you heard a hopeful lilt in his tone.

“Yeah, I guess. And from one friend to another? A good leader isn’t the one who has all the right answers. A good leader is the one who recognizes the right answer when he hears it.”

“Wow, okay, how many times do I have to admit that you were right about being lost?”

“As many times as it takes me to forget.”

“So... for the rest of my life, then.”

...Why did the thought of knowing Jiyong for the rest of his life make your heart flutter? Just this afternoon, this thought would have almost disgusted you -- it definitely would’ve made you uncomfortable.

But now you were realizing -- pretty quickly -- that he wasn’t exactly who you thought he was. He was certainly still arrogant and stubborn, but he was also generous (letting you have the bed), determined (willing to do whatever it took to let Mrs. Elderberry give you her guest room), and... actually pretty sweet.

“Okay, my turn -- from one friend to another.”

His words interrupted your thoughts, but you were kind of glad about that. You didn’t really need to be thinking about how sweet Jiyong was when he was lying right next to you in bed.

“Go for it,” you murmured.

“...Would it be super weird if we cuddled?”

“Wha --!” you choked.

“I need something to cuddle when I sleep! That’s why I couldn’t sleep on the floor! And unless you want to give me your pillow...”

You immediately lifted your head, grabbed your pillow out from under you, and threw it over at him. There was no way you were going to cuddle with him. That was a very bad idea.

...Mainly because you were worried it wasn’t a bad idea at all.

One Year Later

You knew Jiyong was tired when he fell asleep before you.

That man could labor away in his studio basically all night, so when he was already in bed when you got home from work? 

Granted, you had been clocking some late hours at work the past few days. Your team had been busy with a new project, and you’d even had to bring your work laptop home with you tonight to finish things up.

But, still. When you’d popped your head into your shared bedroom and seen with your own eyes that Jiyong was fast asleep, you knew he had been working himself too hard for too long.

...Which didn’t stop you from bringing your laptop with you to bed and getting your own work done, though. You had a deadline to meet!

You tried to get into bed as stealthily as possible, not wanting to wake your boyfriend up from his much-needed rest, but as soon as you opened up your laptop, Jiyong managed to throw the pillow he’d been cuddling over his shoulder and onto the floor. He scooted closer to you and snaked his arm around your waist, his leg over yours, resting his head on your arm as you sat up next to him.

“Ji, I have some more work to do,” you chuckled, trying to shrug him off -- to no avail.

“You can still work,” he muttered, his words slurred with sleep. “I need cuddle.”

“No, you need sleep.”

“Mm mm. Cuddle. You.” He nuzzled your arm, pressing his cheek into the crook of your elbow before turning his head and brushing his lips gently over your skin. “I tried to wait up for you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you frowned. “We’re almost done with this project.”

“Almost?”

You hummed positively, glancing down at him with a soft, adoring grin.

“And when you’re done --”

“We’ll celebrate, for sure.”

“By getting married?”

Your head jerked back with surprise, and even though his eyes were closed, you stared down at him. “...Excuse me? Since when are we getting married?” Because this was the first you’d heard of it!

“Since forever,” Jiyong mumbled. “Since Mrs... Mrs... Blueberry. What’s her name.”

“Mrs. Elderberry,” you laughed. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten about her.”

“How could you forget? That’s where we got engaged,” he sighed.

“Oh, it is? So, we’ve been engaged this whole time?”

Jiyong nodded, his hair scratching your skin slightly and causing shivers down your spine.

“Then I just have one question,” you said with a smirk.

“Hmm?”

You pulled your left arm out from his embrace, sticking your hand palm-down in front of his face and wiggling your fingers. “Where’s my ring?”

You were expecting him to reply that it was getting resized -- the excuse you’d given Mrs. Elderberry as to why your ring finger was... well, ringless.

But, to your complete and utter shock, Jiyong dug one hand underneath your pillow, emerging with the most beautiful, the most sparkly, the most perfect ring you’d ever seen in your entire life.

OTHER SIGNS: ARIES, TAURUS, GEMINI, CANCER, VIRGO, LIBRA, SCORPIO, SAGITTARIUS, CAPRICORN, AQUARIUS, PISCES

#kwritersworldnet #gdragon scenarios #gdragon imagines #gdragon au #gdragon fluff #gdragon fanfic #jiyong scenarios #jiyong imagines #jiyong au #jiyong fluff #jiyong fanfic #kwon jiyong #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #bigbang au #bigbang fluff #bigbang fanfic #bigbang #gdragon

[dualswordskings]

Ulrich handles very well being in love with Odd. (spoiler : it's not true)

aaaaah i’m finally done with this rbfkdjw i hope you guys will enjoy it !! i’m not english so sorry if some things don’t make sense. (i’d love to see what you thought about this so don’t be shy to comment or leave tags if you reblog 👉👈) a big thanks to @vexfulfun for motivating me to write this djsjd that being said... enjoy !

• Yumi comes out to Ulrich as aromantic a few months before they finally beat Xana, and now that they're on the clear about the nature of their relationship, it's easier to move on from the massive crush he had on her since Day One. Considering how pretty chaotic their relationship was sometimes, he thinks that the next time he gets a crush on someone it will be easier (spoiler : it's not. it's really not.)

• He figures out his crush on Odd a few months after putting an end to Lyoko, during the summer break. They got closer a few weeks before the end of school, and they've been texting or calling each other almost non-stop since the holidays started. Now Ulrich is lying on his bed, looking at the blank walls of his bedroom, wishing Odd was here to fill the silence like he did in their shared bedroom at the school, when it hits him and he's like. oh. Oh. OH NO.

• At first he thinks it's going to go away if he doesn't think about it, so he tries, but now that he knows, he sees it everywhere. And it doesn't help that Odd keeps texting him things like "hey it sucks without you, Kiwi and i miss you". (Granted, Odd does says the first part to every of their friends, but the Kiwi part ? that's just for him, and Ulrich loathes how proud and happy it makes him feel)

• So, yeah, the "i do not see it, i can not see" method doesn't work at all, but it's okay ! Ulrich is Smart, he can find a solution to that ! Maybe if he represses it hard enough, it will go away !

• Surprise : it doesn't work too.

• So whatever. Ulrich has a crush on Odd. It's fine, it's totally fine. (It's not.) He can handle this. (He can't.)

• Ulrich ends up being in a constant crisis about it during the whole summer, until the last week before school starts and he texts Yumi to tell her everything because, and he hates to admit it, he can't handle it and he might need help.

• Yumi instantly makes fun of him BUT she does help and at the end of the day Ulrich is much calmer about it because he finally got it off his chest and can now think a bit more clearly.

• So, he has a crush on Odd. And it... might be not that bad. Actually, it's okay. Yes, he has a crush on his best friend, and so what ? It's just a crush, and it will all be over soon, when they get back to seeing each other everyday and Ulrich is going to remember the little things he dislikes about Odd and why they would never work together anyway.

• ...It’s a month and a half in the school year when Ulrich thinks he should start taking circus classes, because he's becoming a clown.

• His crush does not go away. His crush gets WORSE. because of course he dislikes things about Odd, like how coward he can be sometimes, or how bad his feet smells, but it's not important compared to how many things he -loves- likes about him. and the worst thing is, they do work well together !

• Ulrich hates it ! He is tired of feelings, he doesn't want them ! Why did it have to be Odd ! Why does he keeps getting crushes on people he shouldn't !

• Eventually, after a long time.. He learns to live with it. He ends up accepting (for real, this time) the fact that he has a crush on Odd, and that it's not going away any time soon. And he's fine with that ! If he's destined to pine over Odd forever, then so be it. Ulrich finds that it's not a terrible way to live, anyway.

• He does try to date some people there and there during high school, but he always ends up cancelling plans after the second date because it's clear it's not going to work and people deserve better than being a last resort to a guy who has a crush on his best friend.

• He takes a gap year after high school, because he doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life. Odd goes to an art school in a close town, and ends up being roommate with Sissi, of all people ! (She moved out of their city before starting high school, and she changed a lot during that time).

• They don't see each other as much as they used to, since they're not in the same town anymore and they both have different things to do. They were both scared of drifting apart or not finding the time to hang out with each other (or with the rest of the group), but in the end they make it work.

• But still, a lot of things change. They spend week-ends together, whether it's Odd going to Ulrich's place or the opposite, and sometimes they go out, or they stay inside when they can.

• Ulrich barely sees Sissi because she's not here a lot during week-ends, and he still believes that Odd has been lying to everyone when he says she's nice now and they're getting along really well, because there's no way that's true.

• Anyway, the point is. They spend a lot of time together, and Ulrich ends up having dog food for Kiwi for when Odd comes over with him, and Odd ends up having Ulrich's clothes in his closet (and yes, sometimes he wears them but you can't blame him ! it's not his fault Ulrich keeps forgetting to take them back !) (what really happened is that Ulrich only forgot his clothes one time, and then he noticed Odd wore them, and look, he's enough of a disaster already, let him at least have this, he's been pining for *years* now). It's totally not gay, purely platonic, of course.

• And then comes The Competition. They don't remember when it started, but one day they noticed that every time they hung out outside, people mistook them as a couple and... well. They started playing along, calling each other ridiculous pet names, and of course it turned into a competion, to see who could come up with the worst pet name and who could be the most mushy.

• They're insufferable. Jeremie, Aelita and Yumi are planning their deaths because they're so tired of their stupidity.

• There’s no “rule” for this, but they never call each other pet names that are used a lot, like "babe" or "darling" etc. It always has to be ridiculous. Why, you ask ?

• Because one day Ulrich called Odd "babe" and they just. stared blankly at each other, both desesperatly trying to hide the fact that they were screaming inside, and both went "uh. that was weird. let's never mention that again." and that was it.

• So voila, everything is fine in their lives. They flirt (but as a joke), and they sleep in the same bed when they see each other during the week-end (because the couch is uncomfortable, and it would be rude to make someone sleep on it) and Odd wears Ulrich's clothes sometimes, and Ulrich keeps dog food in his apartment for Odd's dog (but there's nothing domestic about that). Everything is fine.

• Yumi, Aelita and Jeremie aren't as stupid as them though, and they kind of notice that... there's no way this is going to end well for Ulrich. (Ulrich hadn't planned on telling Aelita and Jeremie about his crush, but they figured it out themselves after a few years, because Ulrich is sometimes pretty obvious) (yes, Yumi, Aelita and Jeremie are keeping bets on who's going to confess first)

• So Yumi tries to talk to Ulrich, like 'hey maybe you should confess because you're kinda acting like a couple but you're not and we don't want you to see heartbroken the day Odd starts dating someone else'.

• And Ulrich wishes he could pretend everything is fine and there's no way this could go wrong, but he's a Responsible Adult now, or at least he's an old teenager, and maybe it's time to.. stop waiting. Maybe he could tell Odd, and it would make their friendship change, but maybe that's for the best. Maybe. So he promises to think about it, and he does.

• There's comfort in the way things are now, but at the same time, Ulrich has to move on someday, because as much as he loves loving Odd, it doesn’t stop it from hurting. and he doesn't want to wait until forever to confess either. the only reason he hasn't done it by now is because he's never sure about how Odd really feels about him, but then again, if he waits to be sure, then he'll never say anything.

• So it's decided. Ulrich is going to confess, and then life will move on, with or without Odd in it.

• He hopes it will be with Odd in it. He really, really hopes it will. He doesn't know what he would do if he had to live without him. Because before being his crush, Odd is his best friend since middle school, he's family, and Ulrich can't find the appeal of a life without Odd, no matter how hard he tries.

• (Fuck, Odd was right when he told him he wouldn't be able to live without him, the first day when they met.)

• It's a good thing to know you're going to confess. But the important question is, how are you going to do it ?

• Ulrich doesn't know. UnFortunately, he doesn't get the chance to think about it for too long.

• One week-end, while they're watching Pacific Rim again in Odd's apartment, with Odd buried in Ulrich's big hoodie, his legs resting on Ulrich's lap, Sissi comes home early.

• It's a little bit awkward between her and Ulrich, in the way that they're only acquaintances now, so they don't know each other really well. But that doesn't mean they don't get along, which is why it's not much of a problem when Sissi decides to watch the end of the movie with them.

• But she keeps glancing at them, especially Ulrich, until it's time for him to leave. And it's weird, because Ulrich doesn't understand why she would do that. It might be stupid, because it's not a big deal, but Ulrich got a sinking feeling in his stomach during the whole ride home and it doesn't leave him even after.

• Odd texts him a few hours later, and for the first time Ulrich doesn't want to know what he said. But still, he opens his phone and reads the text, because he's a weak man who can't refuse anything to Odd.

• It's something along the line "Sissi thought we were a couple hahahaha, that's so weird."

• It shouldn't be a big deal. It shouldn't. It's not the first time someone tells them they look like a couple anyway. Heck, they often pretends they are with the pet names competition. But there's something about that makes Ulrich sick in his stomach.

• Technically, nothing is wrong, because Odd still texted him, and he's laughing about it, like he always does, but. But Odd never uses capital letters, and he never types "hahaha" and he never puts punctuation in his texts, and sure, it's just some details, but Ulrich knows Odd and he knows that something is wrong and that somehow, now, everything is going to change. For the better or for the worst.

• He types back a simple "yeah, weird." and Odd never replies.

• It's... strange, for about a month. Odd starts avoiding him, answering his texts really late (if he answers them at all), never calling, coming up with shitty excuses to not spend time with him. They don't see each other once. Ulrich doesn't know how to feel about this situation.

• He's frustrated, because what the hell ? What happened ? Did he do or say something wrong ? He keeps replaying the last time they saw each other in his head, but he can't find anything out of the ordinary, except, well. their last texts.

• It angry, too. Because he doesn't understand. Odd had never been bothered when people mistook them for a couple, so why did he now ? And even if this was the reason, his behaviour still didn't make any sense. Odd would never stop talking to someone just for that, or at least he never did before.

• Did he discover Ulrich's crush on him and decided to put some distance between them because he thought it would be awkward to acknowleged it ? Odd had never acted like that when learning someone loved him, but maybe because they were best friends, this was different ?

• It hurts to think about it. It's not like Ulrich wasn't prepared to be rejected if he were to confess, but losing Odd like this ? It sucks. Odd is his best friend first and foremost, so of course Ulrich doesn't want him out of his life. He just always thought Odd would want him to stay in his, too.

• He's angry, and he's sad, and he's hurt and he's tired of this. It makes him mad that Odd was right when he said Ulrich wouldn't be able to live without him, and he’d like to believe that maybe he's got it all wrong and something else happened to make Odd stop talking to him, but he knows it can't be anything else after spending time with Yumi, Aelita and Jeremy. They all acted a little awkward, and Ulrich knows Odd still talks to them on the regular, and it's enough proof to know that the problem is indeed with him.

• He talks to Yumi about it, and she just tells him that Odd is an idiot and that maybe he should still confess so he can move on.

• Ulrich actually starts thinking about it, after the third week. Moving on that is- not confessing, because that is way too scary.

• And of course it's not going to be easy and it sucks but if Odd wants to act like a dumbass then fine, Ulrich isn't going to wait and cry about it forever. He deserves better than this bullshit anyway.

• (It doesn’t make it any less hurting. Ulrich is not really sure he wants to fully admit that he lost his best friend.)

• He tries to talk to Odd a few times during those three weeks of course, but it never ends anywhere. He either leaves him on read or answers vaguely and doesn't participate in the conversations. Ulrich tries to confront him one time, and they end up fighting. It's not a big fight, but it's still shitty, and Ulrich stops trying after that, and Odd doesn't say anything.

• Then out of nowhere, on the fourth week, Odd calls him. Ulrich stares in shock and considers for a brief moment not answering and ignoring him, because that would only be fair, but he ends up answering, because maybe this their chance to make it right again and fuck, he missed his best friend, okay ?

• It's... it's awkward. At first, Odd tries to act like nothing happened, and Ulrich pretends that they don't need to talk about it, but they both know ignoring the elephant in the room won't resolves anything.

• And surprise ! After a few awkward silences, they do end up talking about it. Or at least a little.

• Odd apologies, but doesn't offer any explanations, and Ulrich decides that it's enough, at least for now.

• They start catching up on what they missed during the month, though not a lot happened on both sides, and they joke around and that's pretty much it.

• Ulrich is sure life is going to go back to normal (until he confesses), and he's happy with that, but then it's the end of the call, and Odd tells him about this movie that's going to come out soon and how they should go watch it together, and Ulrich agrees, and Odd says "cool, so it's a date then ?" which is. what. WHAT.

• Ulrich takes five whole minutes to answer because his brain decided to shut down. He's not sure if it's a joke, like their pet names competition, or if it's a dream, but it can't be real. Except Odd is silent at the end of the line, so he must be serious, and oh, Ulrich is a weak, weak man.

• "Uh. Yeah, ok." "Cool, see you on the week-end for our date then !"

• And that's it. That's how the call ends and Ulrich doesn't know for how long he stares at his phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, but when he finally registers what happened, a lot of time has passed.

• Ulrich has a date. With Odd.

• He wakes up Yumi by calling them. (They're mad because they lost the bet on who will ask the other out on a date first, but she doesn't tell him that.)

• And so the week-end comes, and Ulrich gets ready. to go on his date. with Odd.

• He's expecting this to be a bad prank but still, he takes his time to dress well and make sure he looks good. And then he goes pick up Odd on his motorcycle and tries his best not to have a gay panic when Odd comes out of his apartment wearing his best date outfit with the jean jacket Ulrich bought him for one of his birthday.

• They go to the cinema, and it's awkward at first, because how are you supposed to act on a first date with your crush who's also your best friend who you also haven't talked to since a month ? It's.. a little bit weird, doing romantic coded things together for real and not as a joke, but it's nice. It's something they could get used to, something they /want/ to get used to.

• And so it doesn't take long for them to be comfortable around the other again, and everything falls back to normal, and they have an amazing time.

• None of them confess that day, because they want to take the time to enjoy this new thing, and they go on a lot of other dates and Ulrich feels weird because he's not used to have luck on his side when it's about romance, but he's definitely not complaining about it.

• A few months later, when they're coming home to Ulrich's apartment after a midnight walk with Kiwi, Odd tells him about the month when they stopped talking to each other. It slowly becomes a confession, because it turns out Odd realized he was in love with Ulrich after Sissi's comment and didn't know how to process it, but Ulrich cuts him in the middle of it to confess how he feels because 1) he hasn't been suffering all these years only to not confess first and 2) Yumi would kill him if he didn't.

• So that's how they start dating.

• Yumi, Aelita and Jeremy are like "finally ! we can have peace now. no more them being fools." and also very happy because they've been waiting for this for so long and their best friends deserves to be happy together.

• jokes on them though, because now that they're dating, they're worse than before. the pda, the jokes, the love confessions at any given time, they're everywhere. the awful pet names ? even worse now because they call each other regular pet names too.

• But hey, for their friends happiness, they can endure it. a little. they do deserve to be happy after all of this.

• Bonus :

Later, after a few years of being together, someone looks at them and goes "wow, you're such good friends ! i would love to have a bro like that", and it's the pet name competition nightmare all over again, except it’s reversed. Yumi, Sissi, Aelita and Jeremie have to deal with them calling each other "bro" or "dude" constantly and they regret being friends with them.

#voila !!! #hope you guys enjoyed whatever this is shfjskx #i will never shut up about odd and sissi friendship sorry #also yes yumi uses she/they pronouns ! #this was actually fun to write #and the most words i wrote about a story in the last 3 years wtf #thank you for reading this if you made it this far ! #here comes the general tags #code lyoko #code lyoko ulrich #code lyoko odd #code lyoko fanfics #not that this counts as a fanfic but yea #code lyoko headcanons #odd della robbia #ulrich stern #odd x ulrich #do they have a shipname ? #idk #ulrich x odd #i love their friendship too #but this is my childhood show i get to choose what is platonic or not #i probably will write a thread about odd's perspective ? it might be shorter tho #and i plan to write one about yumi coming out as nb to her brother #and one about things in general #alright that's it #bye bye #oddrich

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- part 21

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1743

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N:  I don’t know if you guys are ready for this one but here it is! Thanks for liking/commenting/reblogging! Please send me a message/ask if you’ll like to be tagged!

poison & wine masterlist

Though they seemed to love to spread their opinion of the prince, they really did seem to know to keep their lips sealed at the banquet. You overlook their temporal content and keep your focus ahead of you. You’re nervous, as you should be in this type of situation, but you clear your mind of those thoughts as you stop right in front of the Allfather.

Loki’s hand anchors you as Odin inspects you both.

“Lady Y/N of Midgard,” Odin calls out, immediately gaining everyone’s attention. The room falls into a silence awaiting for the king to continue. His eyes narrow down at the both of you as if trying to find a crack between you two. ”Your work is quite… admirable.”

You allow yourself to glow in his vague comment. 

“Thank you, your Majesty.” 

Odin doesn’t respond to you and simply shifts his focus to Loki. 

“The dagger?”

Loki doesn’t deem a verbal response as he raises his free hand and plucks a dagger out of the air. He looks down at you and offers the dagger for you to take. 

You do and you can’t help but marvel at the sight of it. 

The dagger has a double edged blade. Slender in shape and sharp enough that you don’t bother to touch the edge knowing it’ll slice your skin at the slight caress. The blade is fixed on a gold encrusted handle with an emerald jewel at the end. A set of runes are carved into the hilt of the handle making you wonder what is inscribed. 

“It’s beautiful, Loki,” you tell him. “Very beautiful.” 

Loki smiles down at you and takes the dagger from your hands. 

“May I?” 

Without waiting for your response, Loki takes a knee and as gently as he was in his bedroom he slides the dagger into the sheath. Murmured gasps are heard around you as Loki’s hand slips out of the slit of your dress but Loki doesn’t care for it. He simply grins and offers you a wink.  

“Thank you,” you blush genuinely as he rises up once more. “That wasn’t necessary.” 

“I’m more than happy to be on my knees for you.” 

You laugh at his response knowing the insinuation he was making and it seemed like Odin knew too. 

“Loki!” he exclaims. “Act accordingly.” 

“I shall,” Loki responds as he stares down at you. 

You should have known what was coming next but it still catches you by surprise. His hand pulls you close and his lips press against yours.

You melt into it. You have to. 

Loki’s hands are holding you against him and you have no other choice but to play the role you’re given. You let yourself be swooned and it seems easier this time. 

The kiss breaks the silence in the room as cheers erupt loudly.  

You feel Loki pull away from you and you smile up at him. He smiles in return and presses one quick kiss on the palm of your hand before leading you towards your seat. You spare a glance to the Allfather who doesn’t seem too pleased at the both of you.

You manage to sit by the queen once more and Loki holds no objections as he takes the seat next to you.  A server walks by with a jug of wine but the moment she comes close to serve you, Loki is quick to turn your glass down. 

“You’re human, remember?” Loki whispers to you. “No Asgardian wine or mead. Just water.”

“I have to be sober for this,” you mutter at him. “That’s not fair.”   

Loki shrugs as he takes up his own cup of mead and takes a drink. 

“Can’t afford having someone else find out your secret.” 

You knew he was right so you resign yourself to enjoy the rest of the meal. Frigga is kind as always and the lords and ladies who arrive at the table to pass well wishes are sweet with their words.

You fall into a sense of security that is soon easily disrupted as Odin attention returns to you. 

“To the merry couple,” he calls out to you and Loki with a glass raised. “I hope you don’t mind answering a few questions of mine.” 

Loki’s hand takes a hold of yours and he simply smiles. 

“Not at all.”

You weren’t prepared for this but Loki was the God of Lies and you’ve been good so far at evading the truth. 

“How did you two meet?” 

You open your mouth to respond but Odin raises his hand to silence you. He looks over at Loki who is surprised that his father has even acknowledged him with this type of question. It makes the both of you suspicious. 

“It was an evening quite like this one with all of Thor’s mortal friends,” Loki begins to answer. “And I wasn’t in the greatest of moods. I usually never am. The drinks were subpar as was the company and ...” 

“Permit me to interrupt,” Odin states as a smile takes over his face. “But I fear I’ve heard otherwise.” 

“What do you mean?” Loki asks. 

Your suspicions are proven correct as Odin shifts his stare to you. It doesn’t take much to realize that he knew of what you said to the girls. He had set a trap and you had fallen for it.

“I said we met through Thor,” you tell him. “He introduced us and you blew me off.” 

Loki doesn’t tense up at your mistake nor does he show any other sign of nervousness. Instead, he nods in agreement. 

“Yes, that’s how we formally met,” Loki answers. “Informally, I saw you at Tony’s gala.” 

You frown as you try to figure out what he could possibly be referring to. Loki simply leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead and chuckles.

“I see I’m the romantic one in this courtship,” Loki states. “You really don’t remember, do you?” 

You simply shrug and Loki takes his cue to explain. You were interested to see what lie he was orchestrating to cover your mistake. 

“As I was saying, I was dragged out by my brother for a night,” Loki tells you. “He was trying to lift my mood but I wasn’t having it. I was ready to leave when I caught sight of the most beautiful being in existence.” 

He turns to look at you and you knew he was really packing it thick with flirtations.

“Me,” Loki answers. “I caught sight of my reflection and might I say I looked magnificent.” 

You snort caught off guard by that. 

“Seriously?” you ask. 

Loki presses another kiss on your embraced hands. 

“It’s not my fault you don’t recall this,” Loki chuckles. “But then again, how could you? I was not the one you came for that night.” 

You want to ask what he was droning on about but Odin beats you to it. 

“Loki, enough with the stalling.” 

Loki looks over at Odin and lets out a sigh. He turns to look at you again and takes a deep breath. His hold on your hand tightens and you wonder why. 

“You came bursting into the night,” Loki tells you. “Your hair wild and untamed, clearly underdressed and out of breath, but you had come running with this smile that illuminated the entire room.”

Your mind flickers with recognition and you are surprised he recalls that many details in the first place. 

“I had every intention of learning your name,” he continues. “Of course, I never got the chance. Your friends found you first and they were the ones whose attention you sought for. You laughed and danced the night away. Told them of your new adventures and they hung to your every word. Any chance of learning your name was gone that night and so I left. Thor introduced us the morning after and I was caught by surprise.” 

You don’t know how to respond. You had expected a lie to be told but he had spoken his truth. A truth that was yours too. 

“You acted as if you didn’t know me,” you laugh. “But you did… This whole time you did.” 

Loki looks away having been caught in his own lie and takes a drink from his mead. 

“Why didn’t you say something before?” 

“Because it was obvious that I did not have the same effect on you that you had on me.” 

“But you did,” you answer with a smile. “How could I not notice the handsome brooding man in the corner of the party?”

“I was not brooding.” 

“You were,” you laugh. “All scowls and frowns.” 

“I was not.” 

“Yes, you were.” 

“Enough, children,” Frigga interrupts with a laugh. “You’ve made your point. It was love at first sight.” 

Loki shakes his head and your face warms at her comment. 

“Perhaps it was,” you answer, feeling suddenly warm at the coolness of his hand in yours. Loki’s stare is still on you and you can’t bear to look at him at the moment. You didn’t know what was happening and it seemed like Odin shared the same sentiment.

“You two are quite the pair,” Odin states in disbelief. “Quite the pair indeed.” 

His hands slam down onto the table alarming you but gathering everyone’s attention. He picks up his golden chalice and rises from his seat ready to make an announcement. The action causing Loki to tense under you.

“People of Asgard,” Odin addresses. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the start of a strong courtship between Prince Loki and Lady Y/N. A strong step forward in the alliance between Asgard and Midgard.” 

Cheers erupt throughout the room as gold glasses were raised in praise. 

“To solidify their union further, I have decided it is high time for a tournament!” 

Loki’s grip on your hand tightens and you don’t understand why. 

“The Contest of Warriors,” Odin continues before smiling down at the both of you. “Asgards’ best putting their skills to the test and our two lovers facing the wild beast of the Forbidden Forest.” 

The whole room is filled with roars of excitement that Loki’s anger goes unseen. The tight grip on your hand disappears as his own hands slam the table. 

“You can’t be serious,” Loki exclaims. “She’s a mortal.” 

“Even more of a reason to protect the woman you so love, Loki,” Odin responds. “Take as much time as you like to prepare her. The tournament stands.”

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie 

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x ofc #loki x oc #prince loki x reader #prince loki x you #prince loki x ofc #prince loki x oc #fluff #angst #fake dating au #marvel au #thor au #avengers au #poison & wine part 21 #loki fic #loki series #loki fanfic #reader fic #reader-insert #Poison & Wine #Prince Loki of Asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 02

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, future smut

; Word Count: 1.9k

; Warnings: Talk of anxiety, depression, self-hatred

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Yes this is posted fast but it’s obviously not long. As said, this is a drabble series so it may be posted fast, it may be posted slow. It’s purely when I feel inspired by it. Thank you for the love I’ve had on the first part! I never expected people to like it so much. Please note that this is a slice of life fic that will deal with the MC having a lot of issues around herself including anxiety, depression, lack of self-confidence and more. I’ll put relevant warnings, but this fic is basically me helping myself by writing out some of my feelings. If you enjoy reading it, please reblog and comment to let me know! Again, I haven’t proof read lol

Flower Masterpost

-

Your phone screen is mocking you, you swear it is. The brightly lit screen clearly shows the Flower app message box, which clearly shows the series of messages that you’d exchanged with one seriously, outrageously attractive Jung Hoseok.

And it made you cringe, shrinking further down your seat as you pushed your face into the impossibly soft material of the cat plush you kept on your couch. As if somehow, that might make all your embarrassment disappear.

Because you have never regretted your social anxiety and inability to make small talk more than you do right now. You found it impossible to talk to people normally if you didn’t have a common interest, the conversation often dying down quickly as you struggled to maintain it but that was heightened with text messages.

Your own friends were well aware of this, which meant that no one ever bothered to call or text you to talk. Instead, they simply texted to ask when you were free and then came over or invited you out. You were very much one of those people who just operated best when you were comfortable with the person and could maintain a face-to-face connection.

Which was why you were now seriously regretting setting up this app. Groaning, you let your head fall back onto the couch and restrain the urge to have a childish hissy fit. Because it would be childish. Relieving, but childish.

“Why did I think this would be a good idea? You know you don’t like talking on the phone or by message, you idiot.” You hiss to yourself, grabbing the phone from the arm of the sofa and unlocking it once more.

Re-reading the messages just makes you want to shrink even more. It’s been an hour since Hoseok had first responded to you, and the messages were painful. In fact, it made you want to cry reading them over and how bad you were at conversing. You were trying so hard but you just didn’t know what to say or do.

You: Oh, thanks for responding! I’m okay, how are you?

Jung Hoseok: I’m good, just got in from a gig. You done anything interesting?

You: No, I worked and then just came home

Jung Hoseok: Okay...what did you do when you came home?

You: Watched Netflix

Jung Hoseok: ...what did you watch? Anything cool?

You: Not really

You: I’m watching this Korean drama, The K2

Jung Hoseok: Cool

The conversation died for ten minutes after that and as usual, you’d stressed over what you’d messaged him. It read so stilted and awkward, leading to you grasping at a topic to further talk with him. How did these things normally work? Was he expecting sex if you’d messaged him? Or did he want something more? Was it okay to ask him?

You’d struggled for a few minutes more before you’d finally sent something else to him, resulting in another series of lame messages that had you resenting yourself while also being thankful that he didn’t just give up on you entirely.

You: Who did you go see? Anyone I might know?

Jung Hoseok: Mmm, maybe? Do you know Disturbed?

You: ...no?

Jung Hoseok: Do you listen to any metal?

You: also no :(

Jung Hoseok: Ahhh...you wouldn’t know them then

You: Did you enjoy it though?

Jung Hoseok: Yeah! They’re great live. You should maybe try it, you might like them…

And that was where the conversation had stunted itself, leading to you simply staring at your phone and wishing that you were someone else. Someone who was great at talking and would be able to keep the flow going between him and you. Because he was evidently nice, willing to keep talking even though you were proving to have the socialisation skills of a baby.

Staring at your phone, you bit your lip and rested your head in the palm of your hand, elbow resting on your thigh as tears warmed your eyes. You wished that you could be someone better, someone who didn’t have to psychoanalyse everything that you’d said and every response that you’d been given. Thousands, probably millions of people across the world did this online dating thing every day.

Why was it so hard for you? And on the first guy!

Wiping the tears away with your hand as you sniffled, you grasped your phone and looked down at the messages once more with a frown. This guy, Jung Hoseok, was way too good for you. There was no way that someone this outgoing was going to be interested in you, not when he had to work this hard to maintain a conversation.

Here he was, going to concerts on a work night while you felt insufferable anxiety at the prospect of not being in bed by 9pm. There was no way you could work out, and maybe it would be better to just cut him loose now so that he didn’t have to bother trying anymore with you. You could always give someone a little more...boring a chance. 

Wincing, you mentally withdrew that adjective. People weren’t boring, they just had different interests. You had no doubt that by your own standards, Hoseok would probably consider you boring.

Sighing, you began to type out your message to him, this once longer than anything else you’d typed.

You: I’m sorry. I don’t know how this online dating stuff works. I don’t even really know how real dating works. I’m really bad at talking, through text and phone. I don’t really know how to do small talk with you and you kind of intimidate me. I’m sorry for bothering you, I don’t think we’d work out and I don’t want to take up any more of your time.

You: Sorry :(

Sending those messages was hard, and you wipe once more at the tears that slowly trail down your face as you try to soothe your anxiety over what you’d sent him. And then you have to try and soothe down your worry that flares up over not being good enough for anyone. 

As much as you wanted to listen to Soyeon and Chungha, and as much as you wanted a relationship, you were terrified at the same time. Because you kept yourself so closed off from people, only letting in the few individuals that your mind deemed worth the time and effort and whom you were positive wouldn’t hurt you too badly.

But a relationship meant letting someone in to a place that friends didn’t go. It meant giving the other person access to your most intimate areas; physically and mentally. Letting them know your dreams, know your fears, letting them into your heart and mind. And it terrified you. Because those people were the most dangerous to you.

With a mind that actively seemed to work against you sometimes, sabotaging yourself and your hopes with crippling anxiety and depression, the idea of letting someone that close to cause even more damage was fear inducing. It was giving someone the power to affirm all the negative thoughts you have about yourself, letting them wriggle their way into your life and your heart in a way that would make it feel like an explosion had happened if they decided you weren’t worth it in the future.

You knew that your fears were silly, that people entered and left relationships frequently and that not every relationship ended badly. Not every relationship ended.

But you were petrified of being the one left, of being the one who finally let down her walls and let someone in deeper than anyone had ever been before and having those fragile, vulnerable places deep within you blown wide open. And yet you still craved the love and affection that you watched your friends go through.

You’d tried to get it in college, dating guys and girls in such a casual way that you weren’t even sure it could be called dating. It was more like friends with benefits half the time, and you had so many fears about yourself that there wasn’t even a whole lot of sex. Nor had it been good, because it was hard to get out of your own head sometimes.

Someone like Jung Hoseok terrified you then, because he looked to be everything that you shied away from normally. Outgoing, attractive, outspoken and experienced judging from what you’d read of his profile. Someone who would probably laugh at the idea of a wallflower like you wanting to be with him.

You’re pulled out of the whirlpool of negativity and self-hatred that your thoughts had quickly veered into by the sound of your phone once more, the noise loud in the quiet of the room since you’d turned off your television. Swallowing, you blink hard and take in a deep and steadying breath before looking down at the message.

Jung Hoseok: Oh that’s fine! Don’t feel pressured or anything. I’m useless at talking on the phone too. Would you rather we meet up instead? Casually or as a date, whichever you prefer. I’m sorry I intimidate you, I don’t mean to :( 

Jung Hoseok: I know I have tattoos and stuff, but I’m not mean! I swear. I think I’m nice...

Jung Hoseok: And we’ll never know if we could work out unless we actually try…

Jung Hoseok: :)

For a few seconds...there’s nothing in your mind as you stare down at your phone in disbelief. Surely you’d misread that? Suddenly lost the ability to read and your mind had made up what you’d rather it said instead. But when you blink hard, rubbing your eyes to clear them until the words are in focus again, you’re met with exactly the same thing that you’d just read.

He...hadn’t been offended by what you’d said. Nor had he laughed at you cutting him off so quickly? In fact...he seemed to be...understanding?

Your mouth feels dry suddenly and you grab a deep gulp of water, cheeks feeling warm as your stomach swirls with confusion, nerves and tentative excitement. He wasn’t annoyed by you. He wasn’t angry with you. He’d accepted what you’d said.

He’d even...asked you on a date? 

And then you realise that he thought that you were intimidated by him purely because he had tattoos and piercings and stuff. Which out of all the things you’d stressed and worried over...that hadn’t even been a top 5 consideration. If anything, those things were just exceptional window dressing on an already outstanding visage.

His words seem to have a strangely soothing effect on your frayed nerves, a balm to your upset and confused mind. Maybe...maybe you could just meet up. You were a lot better in person than you were via text or phone. Your friends liked to say you were funny and sweet, which he might like.

Maybe he was right.

You felt an extreme whiplash that left you feeling a little tired from everything you’d experienced in the last few hours; from the trepidation of signing up to the surge of confidence at messaging Hoseok to the crushing negativity of your flatlining esteem to the small flicker of hope that was now surfacing.

Which is why you feel strangely calm when you message him back, watching your fingers type without really being aware of what you were doing. Completely unaware of the monumental impact your decision was about to have on your future and life.

You: Really? I’d like to meet up...if you want to

Jung Hoseok: I’d love to

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #btscreatorsnet #btssunshineclub #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #j hope fluff #j hope angst #j hope smut #hobi fluff #hobi angst #hobi smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #hoseok fanfic #hoseok drabble #bts fanfic #bts drabble #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #flower hoseok