Creepy Crawlers
Lia Wälti x Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
[WOSO Masterlist]
It’s quiet on the drive over to practice.
Despite your occasional attempts to engage Lia into conversation, the Swiss midfielder resolutely stares out the passenger side window, lips turned down and set into a frown.
When you finally pull up to the training grounds, you’re hoping things have blown over a bit. You give her a goofy grin, but it quickly turns into a grimace when Lia ignores your presence and shoulders past you into the training facility.
You’re like a lost dog when you trail behind her into the locker room.
Everyone notices the rift between the two of you instantly.
“Oi, what did the missus do today?” Katie laughs, though the laughter quickly dies on her tongue when she receives a frosty glare from the Swiss.
The Irish woman turns around to you, eyes wide as she mouths ‘what did you do?’ Everyone knows that Lia’s the sweetest person to ever walk the earth. So for her to outwardly express her displeasure?
You shake your head, turning towards your own locker.
It’s stupid how something so small can spoil your own mood. You’re used to morning kisses, arms wrapped around your lover’s on the way in. You’re used to morning coffees basking in each other’s presence, the occasional joke at your expense sprinkled in here and there. Lia’s never not given you the attention you crave before practice, and it’s absolutely ruining your day.
Your eyes are downcast when you trudge onto the field. Teammates from all sides of the field are steering clear of both of you, not sure what’s gone on to cause such a distance between the Arsenal “it” couple.
Leah, on the other hand, has no qualms getting deep and personal. While everyone else tries to pretend nothing’s going on, your best friend throws an arm around your shoulder, ignoring your mumbled “get off.”
“What did you do?” Leah gives you a nudge, nearly sending you sprawling forward.
There’s a second where you think about not answering.
But you’re so sad. And your heart really can’t take it anymore.
You’re willing to take any advice given, even if it comes from a 27 year old child.
“We have an uninvited guest living with us right now.”
Leah tilts her head, eyebrow raising in question.
You sigh, shaking your head. “Lia found a spider in the shower this morning,” you explain.
“And?” Leah questions, not seeing the connection.
“Well she wanted me to kill it.”
Your best friend frowns. “I thought you’re afraid of spiders.”
“I am! Lia still thinks I should take care of the uninvited creepy crawlers though.”
There’s a moment of silence as Leah looks you up and down. Clearly she can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but one look at the longing glances you keep sending over your shoulder to Lia, Leah’s more than convinced that the two of you are ridiculous.
And she tells you exactly that.
You roll your eyes when she does, but Leah instantly gets suspicious when you wipe the annoyed look off your face. Hand tightening around Leah’s arm, you lean in close to her, giving her your best smile.
“Any chance you’re free tonight?”
“Depends.”
“Are you willing to get rid of it for me?” You bat your eyelashes at her, hoping to sway her into helping you.
Leah snorts, shoving you away. “Nope. Have fun with that.”
Lia ignores you the entire day.
You try saving her a seat at lunch. She grabs her tray and drops into a spot beside Steph, not sparing you a glance.
You approach her to ask if she’d like to be your spotter at weight training. She walks right past you and plucks Kyra away from Alessia.
No matter how many times you try catching her attention, Lia simply turns her back to you and walks away.
By the end of the day you’ve had it.
When the girls are all changing, getting ready to head home, you make a quick pit stop. You thought long and hard about it, not really wanting to go to such extremes, but at the end of the day you’d rather have a bruised ego if it meant doing what’s best for your relationship.
Lia’s standing by the car when you finally emerge from the locker room. Her arms are crossed, foot tapping impatiently as she waits for you to arrive.
It’s habitual, the way you instantly reach for the bag on her shoulder, holding it in your own hand as you open her car door for her. The way Lia doesn’t stop you has you breathing out a sigh of relief, thinking you’ve finally broken through to her.
Oh how you’re wrong.
When you purse your lips up, expecting the kiss she always gifts you before slipping into her seat, you instead receive a hard stare before the door slams shut in your face.
Sighing, you trudge to the back of the car, popping up the trunk to place both of your bags in.
There’s an underlying tension when you start driving home. From the corner of your eyes you can see Lia’s jaw still clenched tight, her eyes steadily focused somewhere off in the distance. Even changing the radio station to the type of music she likes can’t break the frown on her lips.
It’s so stifling and all you want is your girlfriend back.
As the minutes tick down and you get closer and closer to home, you know you have to break the air. You have to give your girlfriend a word of warning in the slim chance you guys don’t make it home first. There’s really no good time to say it, but there’s an annoying smirk playing in the back of your mind, the conversation you just had still ringing in your ears.
As casually as you can, you hum out: “So I invited Caitlin over later.”
It’s a bit worrying how quick Lia whips her head towards you. Her hand slams against the stereo, shutting off the music. Silence fills the car as Lia’s eyebrows draw together, mouth opening and closing a few times in confusion. “Caitlin Foord? Like my ex-girlfriend Caitlin Foord?”
You nod, nervously swallowing.
“Why?” She sounds bewildered and a little bit concerned all at the same time.
You groan. “Babe, I am not killing that spider and it’s obvious you aren’t going to either. We both know Cait is more than happy to help us deal with our uninvited guest.”
“Well won’t that be… weird?”
You raise an eyebrow at her. “Why would it be?”
Lia gives you a look like you’re stupid. “She’s my ex.”
“We’re all adults here, Lee,” you roll your eyes, internally laughing at the face Lia pulls at your response.
“Okay, well it’s up to you.”
You shrug. “As long as you don’t break up with me over this, I think I’ll be fine.”
A beat passes as you cruise down the street.
Another beat passes as you turn the corner.
Then,
“Well now that I think about it--”
Lia has to hide her laughter when you slam on the breaks.
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୨୧. 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬
: ̗̀➛ following a job, toji wants nothing more than to spend time with the person who makes him feel more man than monster.
pairing: toji x fem!reader
cw: not much, but i'll give a warning for suggestive themes near the end! very slice of life. the two of you shower together, just talk about your day and plan a date for tomorrow :)
wc: ~2.3k
an: currently pushing the 'toji is so, so soft with you when he's in love agenda'. blame my moscow mule and whiskey shot for this.
there's something about not having to pretend, about not having to put up a front, that makes toji realize just how tired he is.
his job is finally done, a few hits followed by using some not so friendly methods to gather up a bit of information for one of his clients.
throngs of people, neon lights and the honking of cars fade into echoes as he takes the local subway lines toward your neighborhood. he taps the fare card at each station's exit, it's balance never running dry.
it's one of the little things you do for him, keeping it stocked, allowing the assassin to get to where he needs to go.
he's so damn excited to see you.
this most recent gig has kept him away for a solid three, maybe four days at this point.
his body barely reacts to the jerks and turns of the train's car, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. there's not many people on the train and it's not like they would sit by him, anyway.
with a small grunt he cracks his neck, allowing his mind to wander. he doesn't need to pay attention; he's confident that nothing will slip past his senses. while he wants to believe that you'll be sound asleep in your shared bed, a part of him figures that you're up waiting for him.
"shit." he thinks, one of his hands absentmindedly running through his hair. he was just in shibuya. maybe he could've grabbed you something from that specialty store you trekked to nearly every weekend or checked if that café was still collabing with the series you'd been gushing about.
the thoughts in his head are all but useless now, the train making it's automated announcement before coming to a rolling stop at the station that had become all to familiar to him these past few months.
he steps off, tapping his card to the reader and resisting to urge to roll his eyes at it's chime.
it's not a far walk, though there's a stark difference between this neighborhood and the rowdy inner city streets. there are no brilliant lights or flashing signs, but the occasional lamppost and crossing signal.
each step to your apartment feels like a weight off his shoulders, the corner of his lips curling into a small smirk as he punches in the code to the front door.
as he enters the apartment, the sliver of light from beneath your door tells him all he needs to know.
he kicks his shoes off and lets out a controlled breath, the bedroom door creaking slightly as he pushes it in and playfully scoffes at the sight of you clinging to consciousness on the bed.
the way your eyes light up, almost squinted as they're squished in by the apples of your cheeks, sends a ripple of warmth through his chest that he can only compare to the sensation of being stabbed. the only difference is that he'd gladly run into your blade, no questions asked.
"i thought i told you not to wait up, angel." he chides, through there's no bite in his words as he walks over until he's standing beside where you're laying on the bed.
his gaze flickers over to the television where one of your shows, a rerun, he's sure, is playing on the screen.
"oh shut up." you rise to a seated position, the blankets pooling at your waist as you continue with what you both know is a lie. "i wasn't tired."
he hums in acknowledgement, the sound so soft that he has to wonder if it really came from him. when you hop out of bed, standing before him, his brows raise in mild curiosity, his hands coming up to rest at your waist as he silently marvels at the warmth clinging to you.
"sure, angel." his thumbs lightly massage your skin over your clothes. "so what's the plan then?"
whatever show you're watching is quickly forgotten. you shrug, your hands resting on his. tilting your head toward the bathroom, you respond. "shower. you're not getting in bed all gross like that."
he doesn't protest, instead lowering his head and nudging it against yours, taunting you with a smirk. toji is aware that the scent of cigarettes and the stale air of some shitty bar cling to him like an unwanted coat. "who're ya callin' gross, huh? i'm clean enough."
yet, even as he speaks, he's guiding you toward the bathroom with a strong palm resting on your lower back.
the true white lights cast a somewhat harsh glare on the room, but the familiarity of your touch, of the sanctuary that is your apartment, only serves to soften him.
you navigate through the space with ease, the pipes hissing as the shower comes to life. it takes only a second for water to start spraying, the curtain rod clinking as you patiently wait for things to heat up.
"how'd the job go, anyway?" your hands find the hem of his shirt, gently tugging it up. he gets the hint, tossing the garment off to the side without hesitation before he does the same for you. “it was a long one.”
he doesn't bother hiding his admiration for your bare flesh, a noise of approval emanating from his chest as he leans forward and places a kiss on your cheek before helping you with your bottoms. the routine is familiar, grounding, to the man who thought he'd sworn off of any sort of domesticity.
the light thud of your clothes hitting the floor is drowned out by the sound of water droplets pitter pattering against the walls of the bathtub. "don't worry about that shit, angel." he replies, not unkind, eyes twinkling with amusement as he wraps his arms around you and brings you closer. "it's not for you."
it's hard fighting the instinct to roll your eyes, the water starting to heat up as indicated by the slow building of steam in the bathroom. the warmth of his body is much welcomed, your hands busying themselves with grabbing a shower cap and stretching it over your head.
"oh, c'mon, i can handle it." you protest, ever curious about the things he sees, the things he does. "i watch dateline, i know all about crime."
your words earn a chuckle from him, felt more than heard, his head lifting as he angles you toward the tub. "that right? sorry to burst your bubble, but it's not the same." his free hand comes up to press against your shower cap, the plastic wrinkling under his touch. he's always thought the accessory made you look silly, another gruff chuckle leaving him as his palm lightly swats at your ass. "get in already, it's cold."
the echo of your laughter is a siren's call he isn't about to leave unanswered. he steps in with you, a steady stream of water cascading down his skin and melting away the tension that had been clinging to his frame these last few days.
he's content to be pampered by you, to listen to you, to exist in your presence without pretense. for so long his life had been a series of transactions, whether he was selling his skills or himself. but here, he doesn't feel the need to put up any walls or act like something he's not.
with you, he's just a man.
a satisfied grunt leaves him as you massage body wash into his chest, your hands expertly spreading the soapy mix into the muscle before sliding them up to his shoulders. he can't help but take note of how focused you are, the sight almost comical, especially with that stupid shower cap atop your head.
"you're just feelin' me up now." he accuses, though he makes no move to stop you.
your hands pause for a moment as you let out a sarcastic chuckle, encouraging him to stand under the spray of water to rinse off. "there's not much to feel." you lie, doing your best to remain serious, but a smile unwillingly curls at your lips.
he hums in amusement, knowing damn well that you purred like a cat when you had your face pressed into his chest. "you're a fuckin' liar." he points out without much remorse, his eyes tracking your every movement while he purposefully flexes the muscle beneath your fingertips. "but sure, tell me there ain't nothing there."
in your mind, he's the one acting like a cat, his head tilted back and a lazy smirk on his face. it makes you want to snicker, push his buttons in that way you know he likes. "i spoil you too much."
"hm? sounds like a you problem." he lowers his head, your comment igniting a familiar playfulness. then, it's replaced with a rare sort of thoughtfulness, one of his hands coming up to rest on your hip.
he remembers what he was thinking about on the train, perhaps wanting to do a little spoiling of his own. "say, why don't we head to shibuya tomorrow? get you that mug from the café that’s doing that collab shit for the show you like."
toji feels like the best boyfriend for remembering such a small detail, knowing it was sure to earn him some points.
the steam starts to fog the mirror, the water hitting the tub in sporadic splashes as you rinse off your own body wash. your hands wipe some water off your face, shoulders lightly jumping with the laugh you give.
"they stopped doing it, like, two days ago." you reveal, smile a bit too smug.
he's momentarily dumbfounded, silently cursing himself. one of his hands runs through his still wet hair, pushing it back. some annoyed grumbles leave him, lips almost set into a pout. "shit, sorry angel."
truthfully, it's not that big of a deal, and you can't help but be amused by his mannerisms. you nudge him with your elbow, letting him know that not all hope was lost. "a café in kyoto is doing the 'collab shit', too. that one is still open."
"well fuck, why didn't you say that?" he nods, eyes wandering to the ceiling as he mentally maps out his schedule. "tomorrow then, let's go. we'll get ya all that overpriced shit with your favorite character on it."
the sound of your laugh is enough to make him smirk, his eyes following the path of the water as it runs down your skin. a day with his favorite girl, no crappy jobs or seedy clients, sounds like a damn dream.
"what if i had plans already, asshole?" you counter with a grin, challenging him, playfully goading him on as the last of the suds flow down the drain.
his eyes narrow and he scoffs, his demeanor nothing short of puckish. he knows you too well, figuring that the highlight of your day tomorrow would've been going out to grab a coffee or something. "no you fuckin' don't, angel. don't test me."
your lips press together as you ponder your next move, but you relent. "okay, fine, i don’t have anything to do."
"good." he replies, softer now, palm rising to rest on your damp cheek. there's a moment where he just blatantly admires you, thumb running across your lips. "tomorrow. you and me are gonna take the first train to kyoto, alright?"
you loved when he looked at you like that, but oh you hated how it made you feel like a damn school girl. still, you nod and lean into his hand. "yeah. me and you."
it could be from his gaze or from the thick steam in the bathroom, but you figure it'd be wise to get to bed. turning toward the faucet, you reach your hand out to shut the water off.
toji has a different plan though, a part of him not wanting this moment to end quite yet.
"wait, c'mere." he orders, bringing you close as his voice drops to a murmur. "forgot to kiss ya when i came in."
his actions make your stomach flip, your head angling upward to meet his lips for a kiss. his touch is firm, filled with intent, telling you everything you know he feels but struggles to say. a rough palm plants itself on the base of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.
he can't even begin to explain how you feel against him, his senses honing in on all you have to offer. the heat of your skin, the scent of your body wash, the taste of your lips… hell, he swears he can even hear your heart beating in your chest.
it's not enough for him and he pulls away, only to pepper kisses along your neck and shoulder.
a smile curls at your lips and you sigh in delight, hands planting themselves on his bicep, your thumbs running along the contours of his muscle and the occasional scar. when he pulls you closer, when you feel him, you click your tongue in mock protest.
"you're gonna make it hard to take the first train to kyoto." you whine, though each swipe of his tongue or grazing of his teeth breaks you down even further.
toji seems to know this, his grip on you tightening, his smile felt against your skin. "we'll get ya to kyoto tomorrow, angel." he assures, ensuring you're kept warm under the showerhead. "we can spend all day there. i'll buy you whatever you want, yeah?"
there’s no way you could complain about that, so you let yourself go.
nodding, you succumb to your fate, succumb to him, wholly.
it's a blur from there, but by tomorrow morning, the two of you are on the second earliest train to kyoto.
at your reserved seats, you watch the scenery roll by with interest, everything almost a blur due to the high speed. he's given you the window seat, his frame protectively placed between you and the rest of the train car's occupants.
your head resting on his shoulder, arm hooked comfortably beneath his bicep, toji allows himself a moment of respite, no pretending, no walls.
it's just you and him, and he feels like one lucky bastard.
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One of the main reasons I've been so fond of Otasune since I first knew it was a thing was because I think they're genuinely one of the purest forms of love in Metal Gear.
Throughout the series we see horrible relationships between horrible people trying to get by and then that relationship gets dragged through the awful scenarios they live with, be it war, internal struggles, infidelity etc. Despite this common place struggle with so many other characters, we see Otacon and Snake steadfast loyal and healthy throughout every struggle they go through.
They may not be an official couple, but they will always stay the most communicative relationship even outside of shipping. I see people joke about how Otacon kind of bosses Snake around (especially in MGS4), but I always saw it as refreshing. In the series, there is so many times where x character does something horrendous and y character just sits aside and silently sulks about it.
But this doesn't happen, like at all, with Dave and Hal. There are many times where Snake doesn't think about consequences to his actions as a general rule of soldier, however Hal has never been a soldier. So when these things happen, Otacon tells him off and it's something Snake genuinely needs to hear. It's something human, away from combat. Because Otacon is one of the very few characters that talks to Snake as a person, as a human, not as a soldier or fucked up clone baby.
Snake has gone his whole life scrapping the bottom of the barrel to stop feeling so lonely, he flirts with every woman he sees, he attaches himself very easily onto superiors, etc. Snake is a man who has spent his whole life trying to appeal to people, to get the praise he was never allowed as a child. Otacon gives him the comfort he never got. While any military superior can say Dave is the best of the best. None will look him in the face and tell him he has to live to just live.
Hal also opens a lot of doors to Snake's own discovery about himself. While this next point might sound a little cringy, stick with me. People may joke about the anime interest Snake and Otacon share, but it always came across so genuinely sweet to me. Snake's only interests up until he met Otacon have been, stop feeling lonely and war. I think even part of his musher life and interests within sledding can contribute to part of this. I mean come on, not even a regular musher keeps 50 dogs in their house and dogs are a natural remedy to loneliness. But in all seriousness, David refers to the huskies as his only family and I don't see him connecting with any other mushers he works with, it reads as him wanting to not be alone while also still being so lonely. As well as how mushing is considered a more normal interest than being an otaku, especially in the early 2000s. Mushing is a sport, and being an Otaku was pretty much unheard of or hated. Watching this guy who has been stuffed full of war propaganda scream a dorky "falcon punch" and "ninjutsu" with his best friend is so heartwarming in a way.
As well as Otacon's whole meme turned question of "do you think love can bloom on the battlefield?" Is something that I think Snake needed to be asked. It's probably been something he's been thinking about. It is also one of the most human things Snake asked throughout the game. About finding love in fear. Otacon constantly prods into Snake's heart and brings out the good in him.
Not only does Hal open up a space for Snake to have genuine unashamed interests and show true pure humanity. He also shows off their childhood. Both Hal and David never got proper childhoods. They connect that with each other through cheesy animes, talking about uncertainty in love, finding out what life is all about, navigating feelings, and through that damn cheesy handshake hug. It's all genuinely pure and wholesome love that connects what they didn't get to explore in childhood with one another. When Snake opened that piss covered locker and saved Otacon, he brought his own salvation into his life without knowing it. The very presence of Otacon saved Snake. It's why MGS4 felt so depressing for me especially, the strain between Snake and Otacon left a hole in my little heart and made Snake feel even more hopeless.
I also want to talk about how Snake benefited Otacon.
Otacon begins as cowardly and timid, he's an incredibly insecure character that struggles to connect with others, probably stemming from the issues in his younger life. When he meets Snake, he's faced with someone he could relate to that has an outward appearance that makes him seem so much more confident than he is. Snake is not this, he's as insecure as Otacon. Indirectly, Snake is the whole reason Otacon gets on his feet to take action against terrorism, takes action to become a better person. Snake shows Hal that he doesn't haven't to be strong to do the right thing. Throughout time, Snake helps Otacon come to terms with his own self worth and issues.
In MGS2, it has one of my favorite examples. The infamous bro hug scene.
Before it, this is when Otacon allows himself to open up about his childhood, not even just Infront of Snake, Infront of Raiden too. This showcased such a development in his character because he's proudly talking about it, while even through tears he doesn't hide it anymore.
Did you know that during that scene if you pan the camera to Snake, you can see that he is crying too?
When Hal has a breakdown over his sister's death, Snake is there to comfort him as well as tell him how it is in bluntness with a hand on his back that he needs to save people. It isn't cold or callous, it's letting Otacon know that he has something worth fighting for after a loss like that. Then when they face one another, they embrace each other and Snake tells Hal that he believes in him. Hal spent a lot of time as a scientist, hoping for someone to believe in him, while Snake puts all of his belief into Hal.
I can never forget the iconic "You're the only god I can pray to, Otacon" line. Snake has a deep loyalty, love, and belief in Otacon that Otacon has never been truly given before.
They both, in turn love each other till the end of their lives. Their love was one of the most heart wrenching and beautiful things in Metal Gear Solid and it's no surprise it captivated so many people. Their relationship, whether you ship them or just see them as a bromance. There is no denying the love they feel for one another as friends or lovers is one of the most iconic and sweetest bromances out theres They have impacted so much pop culture and I love them forever, as I'm sure many of you do who read all the way to the bottom.
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✿ 》 Will you talk to me again?
╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; I don't expect this to do well because its not smut but it'd be nice !! reblogs appreciated, support your creators :)
╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; @saelique angst collab!! dazai x gn!reader, WC ; 784
╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; angst, reader isn't alive, letter from dazai. he's trying very hard to keep himself stable but it's not working™.
To my dearest ______ .
It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope you don't mind me writing to you like this, it's simply been too long. I'm sure you're still angry at me, so seeing you physically isn't my best interest right now! haha, I'm sorry. you know I'm just joking around, don't you? I'd love to see you in person. I'm sure you would've punched my arm if you heard me out loud right now, wouldn't you? I'm glad I'm spared of the bruises.
what does someone put in a letter? that's what I was asking myself before I even began writing. I decided that the best way to do something like this was to just write whatever I feel true as pen touches paper. I hope it makes sense to you, at the least. if I'm pouring my heart out on some paper only for it to be misunderstood, it feels like a waste, no?
though, i'd be lying if i said it wouldn't be rather cute to see you try to fathom what I mean. did you know you scrunch your nose like a bunny sometimes when you're reading? I'm sure you're doing that now too. you'll get wrinkles very at this rate ..
but anyway, I managed to prank kunikida the other day! you remember that hair dye trick I'd told you about? I managed to break into his apartment and swap out his shampoo, at last! he came into work the next day with black hair, it was hilarious, you should've been here! he was so angry with me. beat me black and blue!
oh, _____. I got a new heated blanket for our bed, you know? it took a while to save up for it, and I had to cut out some other necessities, sure. but it makes everything so much better! I hate cold beds, I'm sure you know that better then anyone. haha, back before we moved in together when I'd break into your apartment and crawl into bed with you. I'm sorry for the amount of locks I broke, but your place was so cozy!
... you know, it's been really hard without you here. I miss you so painfully, and I don't mean to call into the void without even an echo, but its killing me to pretend I'm fine about any of this. I'm not fine with this, how am I supposed to be? I wish it was just a bad dream.
I don't want to have to write letters to you anymore, ______. I don't want to have to buy heated blankets to try and stop my arms from aching for your warmth. I don't want you to be angry with me, I'm sorry I didn't apologise to you before you were gone. I shouldn't have been so stupid.
i had so many words on my mind that I was too afraid to say. maybe if I faced myself and told you 'I love you' it would've stopped you leaving.
have you met odasaku yet? has he told you any stories of his time? I wish I could hear your voice again. I wish you could answer my questions. even to hear you scoff at my stupidity again would heal me. I'm sorry I was annoying, I just wanted your attention. it stings knowing I'll never get it again.
I can't keep repeating to myself that you're not gone. I can't keep buying your perfume and pretending that you're in the next room over. your pillow doesn't smell like you anymore.
I wish I could apologise properly. I wish I could've stopped you from leaving the house that night. I wish I could kill myself to join you and yet I know we won't cross paths again in the afterlife. you were always too good for me, ______. i was nothing compared to you.
i picked up a homeless dog yesterday. you'd always wanted a puppy, I'm sorry I never let you bring one home. I named it after you. im trying to get used to them, I promise. if I couldn't save you, I'll save your name.
I'm sorry. if I continue writing, my throat will hurt more. its strange, isn't it? crying makes your throat sore. I forgot what it was like for a while, I remember laying in your arms wondering if I'd ever have a reason to cry again. now I can't seem to help myself.
keep your wings clean for me, white looks good on you. its a shame you couldn't wear the wedding attire i wished to see you in one day. you would've looked amazing.
I'll write again, missing you is the greatest honor.
sincerely, your osamu.
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a sense of coming home
ona batlle x reader
summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends
words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)
warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end
notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending
again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)
also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x
There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?
Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.
It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.
You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.
Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”
“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”
“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”
You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”
“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”
“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”
“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.
“I am always on your side.”
That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.
Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.
However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.
…
The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.
You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.
Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.
You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.
And… you, apparently.
“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.
Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”
“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.
“Of course.”
With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.
Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.
“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”
“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”
He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.
Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.
Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?
But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?
…
“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.
“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.
“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”
“Maybe she only likes men.”
“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”
“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”
…
You are more than a little confused.
To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.
Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.
Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?
For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.
It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.
She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”
You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”
“I cried for months.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”
She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.
“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.
Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”
You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.
Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.
No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.
“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”
“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”
“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.
You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.
Do you regret it?
It’s unclear.
You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.
This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.
As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.
It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.
It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.
You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.
There are many reasons why you go out with him.
One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.
He’s not Ona. You know that.
That's the whole point.
If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.
But you just… don’t.
Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.
You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.
The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.
Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.
“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”
“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.
Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.
“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.
“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”
Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.
Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.
“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”
…
Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.
It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.
Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.
Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.
Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.
It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.
Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.
By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.
It won’t. (It does.)
And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.
In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.
Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.
Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.
You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.
Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.
But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.
Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.
Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.
She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.
You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.
When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.
“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”
It’s not true.
It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.
She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.
…
You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.
The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.
You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.
It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.
You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.
Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.
In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.
Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.
It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.
“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”
“Why?”
The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”
You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.
She picks up.
“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”
“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”
“Are you back at home?”
“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”
Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.
“Need me to show you around the city?”
And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?
…
Your visit goes very well.
She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.
Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.
She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.
You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.
Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.
Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”
And your hands stop.
“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.
You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”
Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.
“Who do you care about, then?”
“You.”
Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.
The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.
Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.
You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.
With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.
Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.
“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”
You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.
She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.
At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.
You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.
“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”
She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.
As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”
Ona blushes.
You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.
For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.
And that’s when she whispers it.
It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.
It has taken years but it does not matter.
Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.
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yes im changing
paige bueckers x reader
(paige x uconn psychology student!reader)
synopsis: with y/n being in a new environment, still facing rejection, how can she bounce back?
masterlist
chapter 5
the previous week was hell for y/n. she got to finish interviewing all the members part of the men’s and women’s basketball team. she plans on having study sessions with the team members starting next week. aubrey has been noticing dark circle’s under y/n’s eyes, and she’s growing concered.
it was a saturday night, and aubrey was going out to hang with the team, when she went out of here room, she saw y/n locked in with her research. she saw a glimpse of the introduction.
university of connecticut, in short uconn, is known for many achievements in their curriculars, and especially in basketball. according to previous research, many have grown fond of basketball due to university of connecticut, with many championship titles being brought to their home at storrs.
basketball in uconn is more popular than ever. with this, the researcher aims to see the difference of the resilience of these student athletes from the basketball teams of uconn. according to..
“girl thats dope, but you have been reviewing this introduction for the longest time. you need a break, your eyebags are telling you to do so.” aubrey said. “i just want a good grade.. so im eligible to transfer to stanford.” y/n replies nonchalantly.
“that is true, but you need to loosen up for now y/n. you have done a lot. im hanging out with the team today, you should really come so i wouldn’t have to worry about my teammate finishing cans of red bull. thats bad for you!” aubrey proposes. “i dont think i can..” y/n declines.
“im not taking no for an answer, so come into your room and put nice clothes on. i can wait for you” aubrey drags y/n out of her chair and brings her to the girl’s room.
“fine”
after 30 minutes, the roommates finally arrived to the destination: a steakhouse. it’s tradition for the team to eat at their favorite steakhouse at every start of the school year. the team may bring their friends and significant others to this gathering, but they all keep in mind to keep this gathering not too big and still quite intimate.
“hi y/n!!!” the team greets her, aubrey signaling her to sit beside nika and her. nika turned to y/n, and asked more personal questions about her life. they only got to talk during the interviews, and nika was genuinely willing to be friends with y/n.
they got more comfortable with each other, they found out they both liked rock climbing, building legos, and had mystery movies as their comfort movies.
while talking, one member of the team, kk, got curious. “so.. what’s the deal between aubrey and y/n? we didn’t know that y/n would be here, but don’t worry boo we’re all glad you’re here” kk asked.
everyone except for one
“oh nooo. y/n and i arent like that. yeah we’re roommates and we got close to each other but she’s not my type, don’t even know if she’s for the girls! i brought her here since she’s been too deep into her research. she needs to eez down” aubrey declined the allegation, y/n agreeing to her.
“only answer this if your comfortable with it but.. are you for the girls?” kk’s curiousity got stronger. “oh no its fine kk! yeah i am gay, just dont have a label. but i have never had a girlfriend before” y/n answered with a smile.
“OOOOH!” kk and the others exclaimed. “so what are you looking for in a partner? we could hook you up!” ice asked.
“i want my personal athletic or active, i dont know, they just have that aura. i also want my person to be quite smart.. i dont know guys its just attractive to me! and i hope theyre love language is words of affirmation. im a sucker for that” y/n shamefully answers.
“you know y/n, maybe your just talking about me” kk teased. “NOOOO”s and “EEEWWW”s were said after that, laughter all around.
after a wonderful night and dinner, it was time to head to an open basketball court. the uconn team loves to hoop after a good night out. its their only time to really have fun with their sport, no rules or anything. the steakhouse was just walking distance to the court, hence the team leaving their cars first at the parking area.
as they go into the court, y/n was smiling with the rest of the team, until she sees paige. paige gave her an eye roll, which made y/n feel quite annoyed and uncomfortable.
the rest of the team wanted to see y/n play, so she did, she was against paige, qadence, nika, and ice. y/n was having fun, but whenever she makes in contact with the ball and paige was beside her, paige kept on nudging her and slightly hitting her. paige was rough, which was not usual for her especially when they were just playing for fun.
the others felt paige’s competitiveness, and it didn’t feel right. kk calmed paige down. “paige whats your problem? she doesn’t play. that was foul” kk asked. paige just scoffed and ignored kk. kk was for sure that paige was hiding something, and she would have to ask next time when paige is more open to talk about it.
the team decided to call it a day. while they were walking back to the parking area, paige was dribbling a basketball, and started to throw it up— which led to another “accident.”
the ball goes forward and hits y/n again, but this time it was on her shoulder. y/n looked back to see who threw the ball, only to see that it was the blonde once again.
“what the fuck is your problem?”
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Hi 💖
I would love to request something for seventeen , i hope the idea is not out of your comfort zone
How about seventeen headcanon or reaction
When someone think there s/o is cold emotionless , unapproachable person but the boys know that's not true and there s/o is very loving , kind and someone full of all types of emotions
I hope i didn't make you uncomfortable in anyway
Thank you so much
Have a wonderful time
💖
yes of course omsggsgsg,,,, anon u always have the best ideas!!! also im completely comfortable thank you u are so sweet😭😭i love this idea so much like i was so excited to write this!!! i hope you like<3
☽。⋆ svt’s reaction to someone thinking their s/o is cold/emotionless/unapproachable ☽。⋆
𓆸 paring- established relationship, gn!reader x svt
𓆸 warnings- they are protective, some slight rude remarks?? lmk what else
𓆸 a/n- i am back!!!!! i know my break was so small but i feel much better and i missed writing to much. i love you guys i hope you enjoy<3
: ̗̀➛ cheol
he would not be happy about hearing this. someone thought you were cold? emotionless? he was quick to shut that down. coming to your defense instantly. he doesn’t care if he seems over protective. he will not let anyone say that about you. “very not true. you obviously haven’t talked to them enough to think that. they are the sweetest person ever actually. don’t say stupid things. ” he wouldn’t want to hear that mentioned ever again.
: ̗̀➛ hannie
he was very confused that someone even had that thought. he’s honestly in disbelief. him also coming to defend you with his life. he would laugh at the fact that anyone could look at you and think that. he would definitely say something snarky to whoever had even mentioned this. “shut up? you barely even know them.” he would say with a sweet smile after.
: ̗̀➛ shua
shua wasn’t one to call people out of their words. but when it comes to you he doesn’t care. he wasn’t happy at all to hear that someone thinks that of you. he would definitely confront that way of thinking. “where did you hear that? because i know that is nowhere near true.” he would ask questions about why they thought that. he is living that conversation that whoever said that doesn’t think that ever again.
: ̗̀➛ jun
jun doesn’t like to hear that someone thinks of you in that way. it would make him very upset. he knows how sweet you are to everyone around you. he scoffs a little at the other persons thought. “why would they be emotionless? that makes no sense. don’t talk about them like that i don’t appreciate that.” he has no care in the world when it comes to sticking up for you. he knows you better than anyone. he knows that you are far from the thoughts people had about you.
: ̗̀➛ wonu
he is always kind to everyone. but when someone has to mention something about you, he will not have it. “what? are you serious? you think that?” he would give them the scariest glare on the planet. he would ask them why they even thought that. getting to the bottom of why they think this way. he wanted to make sure everyone knows how amazing you are inside and out.
: ̗̀➛ soonyoung
he is a sweet guy we all know. but that will be gone in an instant when someone has something mean to say about you. he has a gentle approach about it but he can’t keep it up for long. “you think y/n is unapproachable? you must be really stupid.” he doesn’t if care to hear the other persons words anymore. he is telling them every great quality you have.
: ̗̀➛ gyu
mingyu is so protective over you. he will not have it. he is so dumbfounded that they have ever seen you that way. “how many times have you been around them to have this thought?” he would make them tell him exactly the reasons and the thoughts of why they felt this way. he would not end this conversation until he has interrogated the person. he doesn’t want anyone thinking of you that way. “yea- i’ll show you they are none of those things. why would you even think that?”
: ̗̀➛ hao
he got more upset than he thought he would. he hasn’t heard anyone say anything like that about you before. he was shocked. “what the hell? how are they any of those things? why don’t you explain.” he would have a calm tone but his blood would be boiling. giving the other person a intimidating stare. he will make sure to tell you all about him knocking some sense into the person. (yelling at them a little)
: ̗̀➛ jihoon
he doesn’t really like when people talk about you. he doesn’t mind of course when they mean well, but he did not like hearing someone say this about you at all. he was very upset. “uh- what did you say about them?” his tone was very unpleasant. he would defend you with every bone in his body. “don’t talk about other people. especially y/n. you know nothing about them.” he was shocked with himself with his defensive state. he loved you so he of course isn’t just gonna let that comment fly.
: ̗̀➛ seokmin
he was mid-laugh when someone decided to slip that comment in the conversation. his mood changes pretty quickly. “what? have you even met them?” he would shock the people around him with his tone. he was clearly annoyed. he made sure to make them feel stupid for ever thinking that of you.
: ̗̀➛ kwannie
this boy is sassy as hell,, especially when it comes to you. he knows you like the back of his hand. his eyes are rolling do far back after hearing that. “you’re clearly stupid if you think that in any way.” he wouldn’t even entertain the conversation after he was simply too upset. he would complain to you later about how he almost fought the person because of their stupid remark. you think it’s cute how much he defends you.
: ̗̀➛ nonie
vernon had been uneasy with the words. he doesn’t understand how someone could think you’re any of those things. he thinks you are none of those things. “i disagree. you must not know them enough. they are far from it.” he doesn’t like that he was even around people that could think so low of you. he would quickly run back to you. telling you what they said. making sure you know he doesn’t think that whatsoever. he would be over affectionate that day/night just because of the annoying thought the person had.
: ̗̀➛ chan
he doesn’t think that could even be a thought someone has. he knows how sweet you are. “why would you say that?” he wanted to know why they thought that so he could shut down every reason. and he did just that. he can admit that he a soft spot for you of course. “don’t talk about y/n that way.” he said it in a threatening tone. he knows he made that person wish they never said that,, leaving him very satisfied but still very upset that someone thinks about you like that. he pouts about it later that day. he can shake the thought,, he wants everyone to love you. not the same way of course because he knows how lovable you are. he can’t wrap his head around the remark.
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I Don’t Just Like You - Trevor Zegras x Hughes!Reader
Hockey Masterlist
Warnings: swearing, tension/fighting, jealousy, Dixie lmao
Words: 2161
Summary: Tension builds with Trevor over his new partnership until the two of you confess your feelings.
A/n: Y'all I am so not doing well rn. I am processing a break up and questioning my social circle and im so lonely that I needed to write some angst to cope with it all. Hope yall like this one and maybe it'll get a smut part two depending on whether or not I can handle writing that rn lol. Enjoy!
Moose: call me ASAP
Me: sorry Luke. can’t rn
Moose: Awesome 😎
My hands quake with anxiety as I fiddle with the tarnished silver ring adorning my pointer finger. The moisture of my skin eases the movement of turning the ring around my finger. I hiss when the gemstone catches on the skin of my middle finger and immediately drop my hands.
Currently, I’m staring down at the risky text I just sent Trevor. About an hour ago he had messaged me:
Trev: hey sorry can’t swing tn after all
Trev: rain check?
My jaw tightens with contempt and I huff out a sigh as my bottom lip trembles. I feel pathetic for just how impacted I am by his every word. I angrily hit the digital keys of my phone’s keyboard as I type my reply.
Me: really?
Me: again??
Trev: don’t be like that
I’m not the most confrontational person. On any given day some might say I’m the furthest thing from confrontational. To put it rather plainly, I just don’t like it. I hate the way I get anxiety butterflies in my stomach. I hate absorbing the emotions of the other person, especially when rejection is involved. I hate what projections I’m opening myself up to receiving from the other person. There are too many pitfalls and not enough landing pads. Which is why it’s so out of character for me to press him on this.
Me: like what Trev?
This is the third time in a row Trevor has cancelled plans on me. I don’t know if he’s aware of that. I don’t even know what he’s been up to lately. He’s refused to tell me what he’s been doing instead, which didn’t raise my suspicions by any means until mom sent me an article. She knows about how my crush on Trevor has had roots in our childhoods.
Trev: you know what I’m talking about
After I stopped playing hockey with my brothers, I was still always around to notice Trevor’s presence in our home. When I moved to California for college, I wanted to chase my music dreams but I didn’t realize it would come at the expense of my support system. Being long distance with my family put me in a hard spot, but having a familiar face to rely on made the adjustment easier. As we spent more time together independent of my brothers, Trevor and I became close friends. The problem was my crush has been growing ever since we became friends, hence why mom sent me an article called, “Did Dixie D’Amelio admit to dating Trevor Zegras?”.
Me: at least say it with your chest
Sent. Delivered. I wait. Trevor’s response bubble appears for a second. It disappears, then reappears, then disappears again. I’m about ready to toss my phone across the room when his message delivers.
Trev: call me
I groan out in frustration and this time actually end up chucking my phone onto my bed. I run my hands through my hair, along the warm expanse of my scalp. A self-soothing gesture by all means. I pace to one side of my room before using the momentum of my steps to start back towards my phone. Just as I have it in my hand, Trevor’s contact picture covers the screen and illuminates in my grasp. I scoff out a sort of half groan and then answer.
“What, Trevor?”
“Hey, Y/n I’m great. Thanks for asking! How are you?” He responds sardonically to my cold greeting. I bite my tongue, torn between tearing into him and the stronger desire to laugh through my rage. He takes my exhale as a cue to continue. “What’s going on, Hughesy?”
In a single moment, my anger dissolves. The tenderness of that nickname, which was once reserved solely for my brothers, now belongs to me. In this moment, I find myself thinking about how grateful I am that Trevor was there for me as I transitioned into college. But the looming threat of a smile quickly vanishes as I remember how that care is nullified by Trevor’s abundantly active dating life.
“Y/nnnn?” Trevor hums into the phone.
“What?” I respond dryly.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is you cancelling on me for the third time in a row.”
“Is it really the third time in a row?” He asks under his breath, indicating he may not have intended to say it out loud at all. I roll my eyes, still actively fighting the urge to just lay into him.
“Yes, Trevor, it is!” I can practically hear him wince through the phone at the fact that I’m calling him Trevor instead of the default nickname permanently programmed into my phone.
“Who’s that?” I hear softly over the phone. My heart flutters like a coal mine parakeet in a cage and I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry if it turns out Dixie is on the other side. Trevor whispers back,
“It’s Y/n.”
“Hey, Y/n!” Mason’s on the other end.
“Not a good time,” Trevor tells him. Mason curses and then apologizes before retreating from Trevor’s general area. “Sorry, you were saying?” Trevor tells me at regular volume.
“You were cancelling on me again.”
“Oh. Right. I…” he switches the phone to the other ear, “I…don’t know what you want me to say.” Hello?! Could he be any more oblivious?!
“I want you to tell me what is going on!” I whine into the phone, “What is it you’re so busy with doing that you can’t see me for a week, huh? I get that you’re a professional athlete and you have a busy schedule. But I know your schedule and I know you still have a decent amount of free time. So what have you been doing?” Trevor breathes, in, then out and says,
“I’ve been seeing someone lately…” I feel my heart shatter into the tiniest fractals of what it once was and I cover my mouth to choke back the growing lump in my throat.
“I can’t do this right now,” I say with the utmost hurt lacing my voice, pulling the phone away from my ear to abruptly hang up on Trevor. I toss my phone on my bed once more, ignoring how the screen lights up with Trevor’s contact picture. It’s a new breed of psychological torture to sit here and ignore the calls, so I leave my phone in my bedroom as I go to splash cold water on my face.
When I reenter my bedroom, I ignore the buzzing device to put on a comfortable pair of pajamas. He’s called once, twice, a fourth, and a fifth before finally giving up. Despite my phone being silent, I don’t trust it enough to take it with me and leave it to charge on my bed. I settle on the couch to open my new pint of Ben and Jerry’s, putting on my favorite show in the hopes of laughing through the pain.
Somewhere between first and second episode, I had dozed off after returning the ice cream to the freezer. I’m not sure what it is about crying that knocks me on my ass like that, all I know is that it works.
I’m abruptly pulled from my sleep when I hear the harsh banging on my front door. I jump up from the couch, the spike in adrenaline carrying me out of my sleepy haze. When I get to the front door, some of the tiredness catches up with me again and I groggily open the front door. Behind it stands Trevor, with sad puppy eyes and a sheepish expression. I can’t help the scowl that comes to rest on my face when I see him, but he doesn’t falter. Instead, he pushes past me to come into the apartment and sits on the couch expectantly. Since there’s no way to physically remove him from my space, I bargain, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, as far from Trevor as I can manage. He doesn’t let the cold gesture phase him, and scooches obliviously into the center of the couch.
“What’s going on Hughsey?” I scoff at the nickname and Trevor cringes in frustration. “What is this?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Why are you icing me out all of a sudden?”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, spiteful, with malice.
“Clearly not since I’m here spending time with you.”
“Was that so hard for you to do? I mean, with your busy schedule and all?”
“What are you-” Trevor pauses for a split second. “Wait, are you… jealous? Y/n?”
I want to protest. I want to scream and rant and bite back, how he could be so conceited to think I’d be jealous of a relationship that I previously thought was rumored? But I can’t.
Because he’s right.
I bite my tongue. There’s nothing else I can do. Not unless I want to make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have.
“Oh my god, that’s totally it. You’re jealous.” Trevor says, complete with a laugh and a sigh. The shame of actually being jealous of a girl I’ve never met, the disappointment of finding out Trevor is dating someone, and the exhaustion from already having cried earlier comes collapsing down on me at once. Hot tears well on the lining of my lashes and I stare at the ground, afraid to draw attention to myself. Upon seeing me cry, Trevor’s smile immediately vanishes and he scoots closer once more.
“Hey, shhh, it’s okay.” He envelops me in a hug that I’m too overwhelmed to reciprocate. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”
I merely shake my head, unaware of what I could even say in this moment.
“I was… I was just laughing ‘cause I should’ve known.”
“Should’ve known what?”
“That you’d be jealous.” I wriggle out of the hug and look at Trevor sincerely.
“How would you have known?”
“You know, for as long as I can remember, your brothers have talked about you having a crush on me.” I cower in humiliation, my face glowing hotter than the surface of the sun.
“I wish they wouldn’t have.”
“No?” Trevor asks, genuinely.
“It’s embarrassing,” I confess, fully recoiling from the physical contact he had initiated before.
“It’s cute.” Trevor earnestly admits as he takes my hand in his. I scoff instinctively but don’t pull my hand away again.
“I don’t need your pity, Trev.” I say so softly he nearly misses the sentiment. Once he processes my worlds, I feel him physically relax next to me at the sound of his familiar nickname.
“Well, what do you need? I’m here now.”
“I honestly don’t know.” I finally dare to meet his eyes. He’s looking at me so sweetly, earnestly. As if I hadn’t just chewed him out two minutes earlier. Then, I look away before I can say what I’m about to say next. “I don’t just like you.” Trevor’s face lifts ever so slightly. The extent of which, one might miss had they not known him a lifetime the way I have.
“You know… the only reason I started seeing her was to get over you.”
“What?” I ask, sharply whipping my head to stare at Trevor, as if awaiting the reveal that this was just some elaborate prank from the start.
“Yeah. I started dating Dixie because I thought dating someone different would distract me. You know, it’s not a good look to have a crush on your best friend’s little sister.”
My heartrate picks up with his confession. This feels too good to be true. As if real life is waiting for us right outside the front door. The real life that doesn’t see me and Trevor together ever in our lifetimes. Terrified of the change that would occur from letting him walk away, I reach up and hold his face in my hands, kissing him passionately. Trevor wraps his hand around my wrist and kisses me back with twice as much fervor.
We break apart, out of breath and full of smiles. Trevor looks at me for guidance and we fizzle into a nervous laughter. I reach up and brush my thumb tenderly across his cheekbone. He grabs my hand and turns his head, placing a sweet kiss on my palm. I then reach up and break the moment by ruffling my hand through his hair to mess it up.
“Hey!” He yells, grabbing waist to dig his hands into my sides. I screech with laughter as I try to escape. Trevor eventually yields and slips his hands from my sides to interlace with one another and pull me closer. I scoot in to sit against him, sitting half on top of him as our breathing falls in sync.
“I don’t just like you, too, Hughesy.” I smile.
“...You should probably call Dixie.”
“Oh shit.”
***
A/N: not my best work but not my worst either!
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Hey, I got a question for ya.Who THA HECK ARE EOS AND HELIOS?! I tried to found their story but I didn’t managed to find it…And since you’re their creator…could you explain ??? 👁️👄👁️
Thanks for your time (if you founded the time to read this) and (in any cases) have a good day ✌︎('ω')✌︎
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
backstory/lore/personalities below the cut! it's. longgggg. VERY long. slkdfjlsdk like over 3k words
Backstory (personalities at the bottom)
Nim was a goddess of emotions, tasked with protecting the worlds made by creators throughout the multiverse. Eventually she yearned to create something of her own, but couldn't make something out of nothing-- so she used herself. She made two beings to keep each other company when she was gone, and used what remained of herself to become a tree to give them shelter.
The beings she made were too young and weak to harness her power in its entirety, so she sealed her power away in the fruits of the tree she became so they could grow into her strength slowly.
The beings were Dream and Nightmare, two halves of her whole.
It continues similarly to Dreamtale-- overtime the tree flourishes and the skeletons slowly grow up together. A village is built nearby and, over decades, becomes a busy town. The child guardians are mostly left alone as the people don't understand them and they keep to themselves, but there are many rumors and myths that develop about the tree they guard. One such rumor is that the tree is the reason the town develops so successfully and quickly. Over generations the guardians are a constant, never aging (truthfully just very slowly) and the mythos surrounding them slowly begins to warp.
People get used to their presence and seek them out more often, and as the details about their guardianship and abilities begins to spread more and more rumors develop.
Dream is outgoing and cheery. He's personable and warm and easy to get along with. The townspeople quickly adopt him like a stray cat, and he's given gifts when he visits and treated kindly. He's called things like "little guardian" and "angel" and the like. He soaks up this attention and praise like a plant hungry for the sun's light and, over time, visits more and more often.
Nightmare is more wary and shy, but strikingly intelligent. He's incredibly protective of the tree of emotions, and rarely leaves. It's more than a magic tree; it's their home and history. A hidden library, the sum of all of Nim's knowledge and life experiences, rests within the tree's broad hollow trunk. There's room enough for dozens, if not hundreds of books, and a place for the twins to sleep and hide away. He's dedicated his life to knowing as much as he can about their long-silent mother and their duties as guardians and is very protective of the knowledge. This makes him more enigmatic to the townsfolk, and people are known to be afraid of the unknown. He's quickly dismissed as the ruder sibling, and shunned. Not that he minds.
Dream isn't as concerned with their history-- he's far more interested in the present and future. He's found himself enamored with the town and how it develops; how he's watched children age and have families of their own, how more buildings are built to spread the town further and further. He knows everyone and everyone knows him.
They are young teens at this point. A couple hundred years old but still maturing and growing. As they've aged the tree has lost fruit; the apples drop to the ground and disappear when they're picked up as the twins absorb them to age into their powers.
But prosperity doesn't last forever, and the tree held no real power over the town's success. Soon the town finds itself in trouble-- a drought, an oncoming war, it's not important. What's important is they cling to their superstitions and fears and try to find a scapegoat. Nightmare is that scapegoat, keeping their salvation from them. They haven't been taking proper care of the tree, that's why there's fewer fruit. It's their fault.
If the town can get to the apples the twins protect, maybe they can use them to help themselves. Maybe they can plant more magic trees to increase their prosperity, or their warriors can eat them and gain their strength. They don't know anything about the tree's true nature and don't care to listen to either Dream or Nightmare when they ask for the guardians' boons.
The townspeople aren't dissuaded, and instead turn to manipulation. If Dream and Nightmare won't give them their blessing, they will simply have to take what they need. The guardians are children, anyway. What do they know about the world and politics of adults?
They know they can't get Nightmare away from the tree, but they can at least lure Dream away. He's offered tea and treats by a trusted villager, unaware it contains a sedative. He falls asleep and they go to work-- dozens of villagers go to the tree and start picking the golden apples. They ignore the black apples, not interested in something appearing 'tainted'. Nightmare tries to stop them but things get violent and he's downed with a blow to his skull. He's still young, weak, inexperienced, and hopelessly outnumbered. He's pinned and forced to watch as his mother's body, his home, is defiled.
The townsfolk didn't count on Dream being resistant to the sedative, however. Despite the amount of sleep-inducing herbs he consumed he's awake within a few minutes. He's groggy and aware something is wrong, but he's up.
Concerned and distraught he's been poisoned by someone he trusted, he returns home to find his brother injured and restrained and the tree devoid of golden apples.
The townspeople have decided to cut down the tree without removing the black apples, thinking that will remove the problematic negativity and they can replant the golden ones to only have positive trees. They're already partway through the trunk, and that's what spurs Dream into action.
They haven't noticed him yet and he starts picking up the apples to protect them-- but they disappear as soon as they're in his arms. They're his power by birthright, and absorbing them is what he's meant to do. It's only natural that his power would want to go where it belongs. At first it's warm and he feels stronger and more aware of what's going on, but the more apples he picks up the more his body aches and starts to burn.
His vessel was never meant to contain this much power this quickly, and as he desperately tries to save the apples it starts to break at the seems. His bones crack, the injuries filling with golden light holding him together, but he doesn't stop.
The townsfolk notice him, finally, and stop cutting at the tree to stop him. But it's too late. He's 'consumed' enough now that he's strong enough to keep them back with a magic barrier. He could stop now, talk them down from their frenzy, but... he doesn't want to. Despite the pain of his body breaking and barely keeping itself together, the power he now burns with is... good. His senses feel sharper, he's stronger, and he's brimming with energy. He keeps absorbing the apples.
His power overflows and can't be contained within him anymore, and golden light seeps out of his spine. The people always called him an 'angel', and this moment is where that myth solidifies itself. They aren't wings, not yet, but the amorphous magic light at his back is enough to make the villagers back away. This is the divine salvation they've been waiting for, right? An angel come down to lead them to safety?
But Dream isn't feeling like the happy-go-lucky child they knew him as. He's feeling an all consuming rage like he has never felt before. His emotions are much stronger than they've ever been, burning inside him. And not only that-- the vague impressions of people's emotions he could always feel are clear as day now. He can see exactly what the people are feeling.
Fear. Anxiety. Anger. And... hope.
That hope stands out to him. It doesn't sting like the other feelings steeped around the tree right now. It's warm and comforting and he wants more.
But first he needs to free his brother. Nightmare is falling unconscious and his vision is blurry, but he recognizes Dream. Dream does his best to heal him, a skill he's been practicing as his magic slowly got stronger. Now, though, his magic is much more powerful. It's raw and out of control and the positivity burns Nightmare with its force, scorching his armrs. Dream stops almost immediately, but the damage is done.
Nightmare was already weak, but now he's on the brink of dusting. The faint wisps of Nim left in the tree uses the very last bit of her magic to turn him to stone to help him recover.
Confronted by the loss of his brother, convinced it was his fault and his magic that did it, Dream shuts down. He goes fully into denial. Nightmare is just resting, he's fine, everything's fine. He can fix everything.
He needs to get rid of the townspeople. They're crowding him and his brother and they need to leave immediately. Shockingly, they obey. Dream is left alone with the statue of his brother.
It's not long before he gets a craving for more of that positivity he sensed. When he returns to the town, suspicious and still angry, he finds everything strikingly normal. Everyone is going about their business as if nothing had happened and he's greeted warmly (if a little nervously). There's more hope coming from everyone and it soothes the ache in his chest.
Dream overhears people whispering about him, calling him the angel again, and he starts putting the pieces together. The head of the town meets with him and suddenly he's not treated like a petulant child, but he's given information.
The town's issues are explained to him. The people are putting their hopes and dreams on his shoulders. There's expectations and they want things from him despite what they have done. And Dream finds himself answering the call, drunk on the power and feeling seen for the first time.
The people weren't acting maliciously, he tells himself. They were just misguided. They didn't know what they were doing, just like how they thought he didn't know what he was doing. He's the guardian of positivity. If they want prosperity and joy again, he can help them. He can guide them to what they want. They just have to stay away from the half-felled tree and do as he says.
As it turns out, the people are more than willing to stay far away from the negativity-steeped tree and follow his orders. They very quickly fall into line and worship him. He has no idea how to lead or manage a town, but nobody dares speak a word against him. Not that they need to. Despite the continuing issues they face, no townsperson can say that they're unhappy with Dream in charge. The opposite, in fact.
Since he came to be with them permanently everyone has found themselves filled with nothing but hope and happiness. They work tirelessly without complaint. Under his guidance the town expands even further over the decades until it's a fortified, bustling kingdom.
But Dream grows bored managing the mortals. He still ages slowly, and now an adult and having overseen a kingdom and its silly politics for generations, he wants more. He's grown properly into his powers and the magic at his back is now properly shaped like wings, like the 'angel' he is.
Nightmare used to speak of the other worlds the books within the tree would describe, and Dream for the first time in centuries seeks out his old home. He finds the books, worn but still intact, and learns of the multiverse and the balance.
It's then that he decides, like the expansion of the kingdom and his influence, to bring his light and positivity to other worlds.
It's another century or two after Dream leaves that Nightmare's petrification wears off. The apples have all fallen from the tree over the years, and he's slowly come into his powers himself. And yet he's still so... fatigued. Like something is sapping his strength no matter how much he rests.
The incident feels like it only happened moments ago for him, and yet he's alone. The library of his childhood is decrepit and the books are in poor condition and barely salvageable. His brother is gone, and when he goes looking for him... the town is a massive kingdom. White and gold and successful, flying golden banners and proclaiming Dream as their patron guardian.
But he's not there, either. Nightmare spends time in the kingdom working as a farmhand just trying to understand what exactly has happened and changed in the time he's been away. It's not easy finding information about his brother that's not glorified, and being an 'outsider' makes it even harder. The myth of the guardian of negativity has faded with time, his status as Dream's brother merely a footnote in the story, and for the first time in his life Nightmare is treated rather... normally by those around him.
It's a couple years later that Nightmare finally comes into his own and realizes the extent of Dream's control over both their original home, and the worlds he's visited since. He remembers reading about the careful balance he and Dream were meant to preserve... but he can tell that something isn't right. Somewhere along the way, growing up alone and worshipped and corrupted by the positivity he was meant to guard, Dream has lost himself. He's 'fixing' every AU he can, making them positive and trying to drive the balance as far in his favor as possible.
Nightmare leaves his home, alone and unsure of himself, and quickly finds himself lost in a sea of worlds that hate him. Due to his efforts to right the balance, he is painted a villain. He's used to it, and yet it still hurts. The hope that it was just that village that hated him quickly turns into the realization he is doomed to be hated wherever he goes, no matter how correct his actions.
The first time he runs into Dream, it seems like everything is going to be okay. They're together again, nothing bad can happen to them now that they're both powerful. But Dream's aura is draining to Nightmare, and their goals are too far apart. Dream's joy at the realization his brother isn't dead quickly turns to petulance when Nightmare insists he stops disrupting the balance and returns the AUs he's altered to their proper states.
They argue, and despite how much it hurts they go their separate ways. Nightmare continues to try and fix things, coming into conflict with Dream every so often, but he's outnumbered again. Dream has hundreds of people in his employ, sent out to AUs constantly to help put them on track to be positive. Nightmare is alone and weakened. Despite working tirelessly, there is nothing he can do to fix things. The balance shifts ever further, and Nightmare grows weaker.
It's years into their conflict that Dream hurts his brother again. He's used to them being on relatively even footing. He holds back against his disadvantaged brother, and Nightmare escapes before things get too bad. It's a song and dance they've done countless times at this point. But eventually, the time comes that Nightmare doesn't dodge in time. An arrow pierces his chest.
He's alive, the wound not enough to outright kill him, but he's comatose. Dream takes him back to his home, an opulent palace in an empty AU he's transformed to his liking. Nightmare can't get hurt anymore like this. Dream can protect him, and when he wakes up he'll convince him to see things his way. Everything will be okay. He always fixes things.
(Nightmare does eventually wake up and more things happen, but i'll save the how and why for later ;) )
Dream / Helios
Hundreds of years old, massively powerful, and incredibly influential. Dream has (peacefully) conquered most major AUs and solved their conflicts. Beloved by all and he knows it, he's egotistical and used to getting what he wants. And if he doesn't get what he wants... he finds a way. He's entitled and arrogant but also completely assured in his power. He has no need to gloat, he's quite confident in his status and abilities. But that isn't to say he doesn't like praise; he lives for it.
He's generous and well-intentioned, but also fully capable of justifying the means to get his end. If an AU can't be fixed it's either cordoned off or allowed to be destroyed. He employs many many people from many AUs to do his bidding, including those from AUs that would be considered 'negative'. If there's only one person left in the AU, removing them and giving them a better life is the next best way to fix it.
He doesn't have friends, not really, but his close confidants are Blue and Strike. He collects injured mythological creatures from AUs and rehabilitates them at his palace. He considers himself a patron of the arts, and aside from hiring people to help spread positivity he also hires artisans to live in his palace and fill it with art of all kinds. Tailors, sculptors, painters, writers, singers/musicians, and more.
He has many hobbies he's picked up over the years, but enjoys singing the most. He can fly with his wings, and is strong enough to carry someone along with him. He can change their size and shape depending on need.
He's very self conscious about the golden cracks all over his body, considering it a symbol of his weakness when he was young. He wears full coverings at all times (except his skull), and would only show the cracks to someone he truly trusts and cares for.
He's very skilled with a bow and rapier, but prefers to leave the fighting to his guards. He's very clever with his words and can be a skilled manipulator, but is equally capable of lacing his words with magic and forcing people to follow his will. He's very in-tune with souls and can manipulate even the slightest bit of positivity he senses, and there's a few people around his castle that are effectively his puppets due to their disobedience.
Nightmare / Eos
Cynical and exhausted. He's a workaholic; he doesn't have time to rest, he has to live up to his responsibilities. He rested enough as a statue and he can't afford to stop for even a moment. He wants nothing more than to have everything go back to the way it was and be close with Dream again, but worries the passage of time and what happened when they were young has put an irreparable crack in their relationship. The Dream he fights now is nothing like the Dream he knew when they were young, and he struggles to grasp that disparity.
Dream however can't help but recognize that Nightmare has barely changed. He's still shy and a bookworm. He's vilified and despised by most around him despite his good intentions, and continues to stand up for what he believes in in spite of it. He knows he will never be the hero of the story, but fights anyway.
He's slow to make friends and even slower to fully trust someone. He yearns to be understood and treated like a full person and not as a scapegoat for fears and misunderstandings. He's fighting to right the balance as is his responsibility, but all he really wants is to settle down and rest. He gets easily attached to people that make him feel safe and comforted.
He grew into his magic slowly as a statue, but is still adjusting to the changes even years later. When he's overwhelmed by negativity it can result in him leaking corruption from his sockets and mouth.
He's weakened from the balance being disrupted, but makes up for it with alternative magic he's learned from books. He has a passion for bookbinding and book restoration and has lovingly recreated and repaired what he could from the tree's library. He thinks it's very important to preserve Nim's history and live up to his responsibility as a guardian.
Not as skilled with a bow as his brother, but a decent swordsman with a sickle or scythe. He fights his own battles and eventually gains a team of close friends to support him.
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My take on how Alastor would fall in love
So, bro is AroAce right? This means he lacks interest in s*x and romance (correct me if I'm wrong) but he can fall still in love. The only way this would happen is if he has known you for a long, long, long time. I'm talking at least 10-20 years. So you'd probably have to know him when he was alive as well, so let's say you 2 met at around 20 in the 1900's.
You'd have to be very interesting to look at and talk with for him to even consider walking up to you to have a conversation. If you have a mysterious aura, the odds are in your favor.
Naturally, you'd fall in love first because of his charming personality and good looks, but you'd obviously be too scared to say anything to him seeing as he'd never show any romantic interest in you. So you kept your feelings to yourself for many years.
After maybe 5 years of friendship, he'd start to know small things about you that only people in relationships would know. Of course, he would be oblivious to this and just chalk it up to you being very good friends. He has yet to develop feelings for you romantically, but he'd say you are his favorite person if he was asked the question.
It would take even longer for him to grow comfortable with you both touching. 10 years minimum. But it would start off slowly from a peck on the hand when greeting, to being slow-dancing partners.
At this point, he'd start to notice he's been feeling different around you compared to a few years ago. He'd miss when you weren't around and would memorize every little thing about you like that of a stalker. He'd also notice how he wasn't disgusted when you touched his skin compared to other people, not getting that lingering feeling of dirtiness when having skin-on-skin contact.
Now, he'd never stalk you, it's ungentlemanly. But he has killed a few men who harassed you at some point. It's not like he wanted you all for himself, but when he saw the look in your eyes when you'd open up to him about those moments, he'd feel something snap inside him. And just like that, those men went missing the next morning.
If you are a female, people would think you both were in a relationship and urge you both to get married. You both just ignored these comments because 1. you thought he didn't like you back, and 2. he didn't know if he liked you back either.
If you're a male, people would just think you were very good friends, which made Alastor even more confused about his feelings. You would also have even more reason to keep your feelings hidden since same-sex couples were heavily frowned upon back then.
Alastors confusion went on for years until he eventually died in 1933 and ended up in hell. After 2 years, you inevitably died as well, but those 2 years away from you made Alastor realize that he had grown romantic feelings for you. Because he'd never been away from you for so long, and he basically suffered withdrawal in his first 2 years in Hell, which tbh isn't uncommon.
When he found you in Hell after you'd been burned at the stake for being accused of witchcraft, he hugged you so tightly you thought you'd die a second time. He was also a bit shocked you were in Hell, but at that point he didn't really care.
Even after that, it would take him a while to pluck up the courage to ask you to be his, but eventually, he does. And now you both can be together in Hell for the rest of time.
For any of the AroAce people out there, plz tell me if I got anything wrong. I've heard from some other AroAce people that they can fall in love and even have sex but don't actively seek it out, so I used that knowledge to try and make a good guess on how Alastor would be like if he were to fall in love.
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Secrets | Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff
Requested by @sashawalker2
Summary: How do Wanda and Natasha react to finding out Y/N was a victim of Hydra?
Word count: 1.2k
•
“When were you going to tell us you were experimented on by Hydra?”
“I don’t know, Wanda. There never seemed to be a right time.”
“Would’ve been nice if we had known before going to bed with you.”
“What’s the difference, Nat?”
“It’s like we slept with a stranger. We don’t even know you anymore.”
I blinked at them, pushing the tears back as the two women that meant everything to me looked at me as if I was a total stranger.
“I’m still the same person.”
“You’re not.” Nat insisted. “You lied to us.”
“I didn’t lie! I just … neglected to mention it.”
“What else did you neglect to mention?”
“I may have forgotten to tell you guys that I maybe have … some powers.”
Nat all but rolled her eyes and Wanda just continued to stare at me.
“What powers?”
“Not many!”
“What powers, Y/N?” Nat had clearly lost her patience.
“I’m strong and I can heal, okay?” I was ashamed of my past, of my powers, and being forced to out myself in front of my girlfriends was embarrassing.
“How strong?”
“I can hold my own against any of you.”
“Not without proper training.” Nat mumbled and I glared at her.
“Try me.”
“Okay, okay,” Wanda finally spoke, getting in between us before we started fighting right in front of her. “Y/N,” her voice was soft. “Why didn’t you just … tell us?”
“I was scared, okay? I was scared and ashamed.” I turned away from both women, my hands shaking with rage. “I hate what happened to me. I hate what they made me. I pushed down all my strength and all my abilities so I could just be normal.”
I turned back towards them, tears threatening to fall as I pleaded to them with my eyes.
“Is it such a crime to have wanted to put all that pain and torture behind me and just … pretend?”
Nat swallowed roughly as she listened to my words.
“You could’ve told us.”
“I couldn’t.” My voice broke. “I worked so hard to put all of that behind me. Telling you would’ve undone everything I did to be the person I am today.”
“But we told you who we were. That wasn’t fair of you, Y/N.”
“I know,” I turned to Wanda, hoping that at least she would understand me. “And I’m sorry. I just didn’t want either of you to think that I was some Hydra agent undercover or something.”
“And what if we do?”
“Do you?” I directed the question at Natasha, but then turned my attention to Wanda. “Do both of you really think I’m a Hydra agent? After everything I told you? After all we’ve been through?” I yelled, my chest heaving and my tears finally falling.
Wanda’s eyes shifted to the ground, but Nat continued to stare straight at me.
“Wouldn’t I have killed both of you already? Maybe while I was fucking you so hard you were screaming my name -”
Natasha’s fist collided with my face before I even had the chance to react. I barely flinched at the blow, even though she had used all her strength and channeled her anger into the hit. I sighed, knowing full well that I deserved it for how I spoke, but disappointed that she resorted to violence.
“Natasha!” Wanda cried, but I raised my hand up toward her, telling her it was okay.
“I deserved that.” I breathed, watching as the realization finally crossed her features that I had taken a hit from her and didn’t even take a step back. “I shouldn’t have brought that up, I’m sorry.”
“Y/N,” Wanda said my name softly, slowly approaching me. “I don’t think you’re with Hydra. I don’t think you have an evil bone in your body.” She took my face in her hands and looked deeply into my eyes. “You need to be honest with us from now on. No more secrets.”
I nodded, my eyes filling with tears once again at the softness of her voice. I thought she would’ve been angrier than Nat, but I guess she understood my desire to put it behind me to an extent.
“No more secrets. I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. It’s okay.”
Nat stood back and wordlessly watched us, still as the dead while Wanda comforted me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me to her, hugging me, and I watched Nat from over her shoulder. Her face was unreadable, blank, but I knew her well enough to know that she was mulling over everything that happened.
“They took me as a child,” I began, looking Nat directly in the eye. “I was tortured for years, injected with god knows what until I was finally able to escape.” I swallowed roughly, blinking away tears. “I can’t tell you how many of my bones were broken, how much of my body was destroyed just for it to repair itself within minutes and for the torture to start all over again because of it.”
“Y/N, you don’t have to …"
“I want to.” I gave Wanda a slight squeeze, letting her know it was okay, and continued. “I wasn’t the end goal. I was just a guinea pig. They were just going to use me until I finally died.” I scoffed. “Unfortunately for me, they made it almost impossible for me to die from anything other than natural causes.”
I sniffled softly and I felt Wanda’s arms tighten around me in support.
“I can’t even kill myself.”
“Y/N, don’t.” Wanda spoke against my neck and I could feel her own hot tears against my skin. “Don’t say that.”
“I tried.” I grabbed onto her, burying my face in the crook of her neck. “I tried to kill myself so many times, but I always wake up. I always wake up.”
I could sense Nat approach before I felt her arms around the both of us. Wanda was full on crying at this point and I was doing my best to hold and comfort her. As Nat embraced us both, and I could’ve sworn that I heard her crying too.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
I looked up at her, her eyes shining with tears. I leaned toward her and pressed my lips to hers and she responded in full, kissing me back while we held Wanda.
“I’m so sorry.” She whispered against my lips and I shook my head.
“Don’t apologize. I was the one who was wrong.”
“I was an idiot. I … hit you.”
“Which I deserved.”
“No, you didn’t. I lost myself.”
“It’s alright. I’m fine, see? Not even a scratch.” I tried to make light of it to try and make her feel better.
I knew it happened in a moment of passion and I truly did deserve it. I had deserved everything that happened to me. I knew that.
Before I could voice another thought, Wanda lifted her head up and kissed me, her lips trembling.
“I’m - I’m fine.” I breathed softly, her green eyes searching mine. “I’m fine, Wands. I promise.”
“I don’t want anything to come between us ever again.” Wanda’s voice was small and she sniffled softly.
“Nothing will. Ever. You two mean so much to me. More than you’ll ever know.”
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I wanna know about Michaelangelo's hands 🥺🥺
ohhh, one I was actually working on today 🥹 it's only been in progress since October 2022 XD but it's a slowburn after episode 6 exploring Dream's difficulties with rebuilding the Dreaming, because I felt dissatisfied with how the Dreaming just sort of got fixed off screen in the show. It's kind of about writer's/artist's block, and overly-identifying with your work, and Dream confronting his relationship with creating, and learning how to take a break, maybe.
--
“You would try to console me, when it was you who had the nightmare?” said Dream, as Hob went into the kitchen.
“The nightmare was about you, so yeah.”
“I see.” Dream was quiet while Hob put together the tea. Then he said, “What do you fear for me, then?”
Hob passed him his mug, sat down on the couch beside him. He took a sip, then sighed, trying to work through the wording of it. “You hurting yourself,” he admitted. “Intentionally. Incidentally. Any way it might happen. Hearing you talk about how hard it’s been to create recently… that gap between expectation and reality, that can really wound, you know? Especially if you don’t give yourself grace. Which I suspect you don’t.”
Dream took a slow sip of his tea, then said, “Grace is for those with room for error.”
“Grace is for you because I say so,” Hob said.
Dream seemed startled by this response. “Because you say so?” he repeated, at length.
“Yes,” Hob said, with determination. He hadn’t let death stop him, and he didn’t intend to let Dream’s rules stop him either. “I’ll give you grace, if you won’t give it to yourself.”
Slowly, Dream leaned over, and rested his head on Hob’s shoulder.
Hob’s breath caught. He carefully put down his tea. Wrapped a hesitant arm around Dream’s shoulders. Ran his fingers through his hair. Grace. Such an easy thing for Hob to give, and such a hard thing for Dream to accept.
“I do not know that I can give you what you are seeking,” said Dream quietly. Hob could just feel his breath over his skin.
He made a questioning noise, not understanding Dream’s words, and Dream elaborated, a hush of breath: “Love.”
“Oh.” Hob was still for a moment, because wasn’t this love? Dream close to him, and coming back to him? “No, darling, that’s not what I meant.” It could be, he’d love if it was, but— “I don’t have expectations of you. I just wanted you to know that I care for you. That’s all.”
“Ah,” said Dream. He seemed to think for a while. “It is not that I… couldn’t,” he said at last, with some grief, and Hob’s breath caught, a sudden lurching what if lodging there. “It is that I have not succeeded in the past, and I do not expect that to change. Especially now.”
“I understand,” Hob said. You could try, he thought. It doesn’t have to be the way you’re thinking. It doesn’t have to be in the form that you failed at.
Hob didn’t like to be a grumbling “kids these days” type of old person, but he did sometimes feel that people nowadays put too many boxes around it. Hob loved him the way a knight knelt before his king, the way too long-parted friends would kiss, the way lovers drew each other to bed and the way he might tempt a starving animal in from the cold; he would have Dream visit his pub once a century or live with him forever, whichever suited him. If the type of commitment that Dream had tried and failed at in the past could not work for him, then they would do it a different way.
“I think,” said Dream slowly, “that you understand me quite well, indeed.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” said Hob, which brought a half-smile twitch to Dream’s lips, Hob felt it against his skin. “But I think, perhaps, that we’re hardly strangers anymore, you and I.”
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My Cam Girl
Ship: Idol!Jungkook x Cam girl!Y/n
au/genre: sex cam worker au
rating: M
wc: 2.7k
Chapter warnings: Masturbation, mutual masturbation, sex talk. Vivid wet dreams. Breeding kink and children were mentioned.
summary: The members have an odd obsession with you.
tagss: @shadowyjellyfishfest @baechugff @maunosorioh @shelylamc @princess-sunshyn @scuzmunkie @wanceu @coldcoffee2121 @maunosorioh @massivelyfullenthusiast
Jungkook wasn’t new to this type of thing. He had his fair share of experiences with cam girls and porn sites. He wasn’t addicted by any means, his schedule did not allow him the time to. But every once in a while, he would dibble and dab.
Lately, his hyungs have been occupied. Their eyes were glued to their phone screens as if their lives depended on it. It took what felt like hours to regain their attention again. Jungkook wondered what had their attention so being the curious man he is, he asked.
“Hyung,” Jungkook walked over to Hoseok and Namjoon occupied with whatever was placed on his screen.
“Yeah?” they said in unison as they couldn’t even bother to look at him.
“What are you looking at? You guys have been sitting here for almost an hour. We’re supposed to practice now. “ He asked.
“We are looking at this cam girl Yoongi came across,” Namjoon said looking up at Jungkook briefly before looking back at Hoseok’s phone.
“She’s so beautiful and adventurous. She’ll try anything for the right price” Hoseok said enjoying his piping hot noodles and showing his younger brothers a sexy picture of you. “She is one of the most beautiful women known to mankind. It’s a shame she’s in this type of business though. She’d probably make someone pleased.” Joon said, grabbing the phone and looking at your features.
“I was on Twitter and she popped on my timeline. I did some research and found her website” Yoongi said as he walked over, taking Hoseok’s phone from Joon to look at the photo. “Give it to me,” Jungkook asked.
Jungkook was interested. You were beautiful. He was mesmerized by your body. Your curves were like no other. He wanted to check out your content. Yoongi handed Hoseok his phone back and sent Jungkook your socials.
That night he spent a few hours just looking at your content.
Of course, he watched some of your mature content but he also saw a few vlogs, and lifestyle like videos.
He fell in love with your personality.
You were sweet and bubbly. You enjoyed painting, cooking, and decorating.
He enjoyed the vlogs a lot more than your spicy content, so he found himself looking at your vlogs more often.
Jungkook noticed that much of your wholesome content didn’t have as much attention as your other content. It kind of made him sad. He thought back to what Namjoon said.
You would make someone very happy.
Physically, mentally, and sexually.
~~~~~~~~
As the weeks went on, you became the topic of many discussions. Jungkook engaged with them but he also slowly became disgusted by the way they thought of you.
The way HE thought of you.
There was no question. You were amazing at what you did.
Your sex appeal was out of this world. Even with your wholesome content, you still had Jungkook’s mind running wild.
Whenever you posted or went live everyone darted to their room, where they stayed for hours at a time.
And he was no better.
He wanted to indulge but a part of him couldn’t. Most of the time he would just avoid it.
But just like his hyungs, he was drawn in by you.
You weren’t over the top or too animated.
You didn’t make unnecessary noises or even say corny shit.
You were able to pull your viewer in. At least you were able to pull Jungkook in.
It felt really like he was truly the one in there with you. A few moments more of clicking around he heard a cute little chime.
The chime indicated that he had gotten a new message from you. His eyes widened and he clicked the icon that flashed the message.
“Ah, that must be new” he mumbled to himself.
He’s been on your website for a few weeks and has never noticed the message feature.
“Welcome love, I’m (….) what’s your name or what would you like to be called?” He read. He frowned and looked at his pre-registered user.
“TheCockMaster3000” he questioned. He felt so embarrassed, that he quickly typed a response.
“I didn’t come up with that name... I’m sorry” The three dots appeared letting him know you were responding.
“I kinda figured sometimes the name generator generates horrible users”
“But I mean if you want me to call you thecockmaster I have no issues ” you typed sarcastically.
Jungkook chuckled to himself replying back
“no way, please don’t do that. Just call me JK” He said relaxing a little bit before hitting send.
“JK? I like it. It’s mysterious, but I feel I’ve heard that before.” You responded.
Jungkook’s body started to heat up. It was a big risk to his career if the wrong person found out who he was. He didn’t want to end up with a scandal.
“You probably have, but trust me, I’m not him.”
“Okay! No biggie. Now JK, thank you for subscribing. I hope you enjoy ❤️” you said before getting up to finish getting ready.
The way you go live is simple, you go live but you turn off all live comments, they can only respond and tip you anonymously. Only you know who’s saying what.
No judgment. No shaming.
As you embraced the theme of tonight's ASMR vibe, you yearned to captivate your viewers with a touch of sensory play. You desired to be their canvas, a vessel for their imaginative needs. With a radiant smile, you turned on the camera, ready to embark on a sensory journey.
“Hello, my loves. How are you? It’s been awhile hasn’t it?”
In a hushed whisper, you sent shivers down Jungkook's spine. Your voice was probably the most favoirte thing of Jungkook’s. You could tell him you hated him and wanted to take him out and he’d still fall in love with you.
“Tonight, we’re going to use our imagination. I’m going to help you imagine your personal, alone time with me, tonight you’re going to imagine me any way you want to. Is that alright?”
Jungkook’s finger typed away a quick
response. “That’ll be great” he sent. Maybe that was too needy. He thought to himself but when you saw “TheCockMaster3000” you damn near busted out laughing.
"Alright, I'd like you to gradually close your eyes and let go of any worries from today, yesterday, or tomorrow. In this moment, imagine that it's just you and me. You can share with me all the troubles you've encountered during the day as I gently and firmly rub your shoulders. My hands will move softly up and down your back, helping to relieve the stress and tension you've accumulated."
Jungkook’s eyes were closed and his mind slowly drifted away to that very moment.
He began to feel hands, pressing against his shoulders, massaging them deeply. He groaned softly and looked behind him and there you were, as beautiful as can be. You were behind him in a gorgeous tub
Looking over a breathtaking view. His eyes were literally playing tricks on him but it was feeling amazing. He turned to you. “Is this real?” He asked looking over your features slowly, you giggled and sat on his lap slowly feeding him a strawberry that was dipped in Champagne
“As real as you want it to be” you slowly leaned down and kissed his pouted lips tasting the mixture of strawberries and liquor on his tongue.
He deepened the kiss, no longer thinking that this was just a dream, he wrapped his arms around your waist slowly kissing down your neck.
Soft moans left your lips as you ran your fingers through his hair. He couldn’t contain himself, he allowed you to sink onto his member, letting out a strong deep groan. Your lips connected again as your hips rotated and bounced on him, causing the water to splash onto the floor.
It all happened very fast but he accepted it fully.
Jungkook’s breathing picked up as he now is imagining you fucking him the very first-time “meeting” you.
“F-fuck baby,” you said biting your bottom lip as he now thrust in your deeply between the sheets of the beautiful room he had imagined solely off of your words.
“F-Fuck b-baby, i-im g-gonna c-cum! Fuck-” He hisses laying his whole body onto yours and pushing his member upwards into your drippy core. “F-fuck then cum baby, cum in me, make me full love” you moaned softly in his ear. Exactly how you were talking to your viewers.
As soon as Kook felt himself about to cum he snapped himself out of his daydream and his eyes popped open, meeting yours.
“Open your eyes, my love”
You smiled brightly at the camera like you were waiting for him to wake up…
“How was it? Please I wanna know”
Kook slowly looked down at his now cum-stained shorts cursing himself, wondering how the hell you managed to get him like that, through a laptop…
~~~~~~~~~
For the next few weeks, Jungkook was still in shock. He could not believe you had him like that without being there. There’s no way.
Sure he’s watched plenty of ‘videos’ before but he was never able to purely imagine something so vivid and real like that.
Longing for a reprise, he yearns to delve even deeper into the realms of imagination evoked by your words. The desire to relive this experience consumes him.
“She’ll do anything for the right price” He repeated Hobi’s words to himself logging in and typing up a message to send you.
“Um... hey, can I send in a request?” He asked hitting send, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. You felt your phone chime followed by a buzz. You quickly read the message. “Of course, what’s up?”
He felt a tad bit relaxed but still weird about it. “can you do what you did last week, tonight? I really enjoyed it. I hope I don’t sound like a crazy pervert..I’ll pay whatever you want ” he hit send tapping his fingers on the arms of his chair waiting for a response.
“I wasn’t planning on going live tonight sweetheart...but I’ll do it just for you since you’re new 💞” that made his heart drop, ‘duh she’s a real person of course she wouldn’t want to always be on live in a way she’s just like you, dumbass’ he thought quickly typing
“fuck, no no no I’m so sorry, please don’t. I’m sorry I should have considered the fact that you may be tired or busy, either way I have no rights to demand your time. Whenever you would like to is fine with me” seeing that made you frown a little.
“No sweetheart it’s okay, I have to provide the service you paid for💞🥺”
Now he felt worse, like he was being too demanding. “Idc, If you need time for yourself take it. I work crazy schedules too so a mental break is always needed. I can wait. Please rest. I can wait. I promise” he typed.
That made your heart skip a beat.
“Thank you... so much. You’re the only one that’s ever said that to me. Especially when making a request.. thank you 🥺” you replied.
He felt bad but he didn’t want to force you to speak more on it.
“Really? You need your rest.. you’re a real person that has real feelings and real problems if you need a break, we as your customers need to respect that. Your headspace is important” he typed back. You paused and smiled.
You could cry right now.
It’s a shame how the bare minimum makes you feel so validated but that’s what it’s like in this business.
“Thank you.. thank you.. I really needed to hear that.” You paused and typed again. “How about, we do a private live? You can keep your camera off, I’ll just guide you just like last time.”
You typed back. Kookies eyes widen as he ran to his door and closed it and came back. “Are you sure? Please don’t force yourself” he said. “No no no it’s okay, I’m just talking 💕” you smiled and hit send.
He quick looked around his room to make sure everything was clean. Then he started messing with his hair. “Okay then... I’m ready” within minutes you had requested a private video chat.
He took another quick look before answering the call.
Your eyes widen at the beautiful human in front of you followed by a small chuckle.
“Wow, Kookie, you’re adorable and you look very nice, I didn’t know we were dressing up. And for the record, you are exactly the JK I was thinking of.” you smiled softly adjusting yourself on your bed. You had your hair in a messy bun and a big black Tshirt on that fell off your shoulder revealing your soft skin.
“I-I just...wow”
Jungkook was stuck at how beautiful you were, you had makeup on and a cute tight dress on last time, your hair was done and your lips was glossed. You were beautiful then but seeing you without makeup, hair in its natural wild state,
You were absolutely gorgeous.
“U-uh yeah-” he cleared his throat “I’m sorry about that. I-I”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m not here to judge you. I’m probably the last person that can cast judgment.” You snorted causing Jungkook to relax and chuckle.
“How about we not judge each other?” He smiled and you nodded returning a smile of your own.
“Deal”
“Are you ready to begin?” You smiled lowering your voice cooing softly. The same tingling sensation came as you slowly started to directed him again.
“Yes, pretty” Jungkook whispered sending that same tingling sensation throughout your body.
You loved being called different pet names. Pretty was your all-time favorite.
“Jungkook, close your eyes and surrender to the present moment. Let go of all the worries that weigh upon your mind today, and don’t burden yourself with the uncertainties of tomorrow. I want you to immerse yourself completely in the sound of my voice and connect with your innermost desires. Is your mind clear and free, my love?” You whispered softly, watching as a sense of calm enveloped him.
Kook carefully opened his eyes to see where his mind has taken him today.
In a beautiful modern palace everything was aesthetically pleasing to his eye. He wondered why he was here this time and why you weren’t, until The sound of splashing water and joyous giggles caught his attention.
Surrounded by aesthetics and beauty in the modern palace, he was taken back. You swam to the edge where he was and did a “come here” with your finger inviting him to join you in the water.. Disregarding his clothes, he eagerly moved towards you, embracing the refreshing embrace of the water.
Greeting him with open arms, you pulled him in and kissed him deeply. Jungkook wrapped his arms around your naked body and pulled you close to his now-naked body.
The skin to skin contact drove him wild and it didn’t help that you were playing with his member underneath the water latching your lips underneath his jaw line.
Your hands went to work, touching every part of Jungkook that was available to you, you stroked his shaft, massaged his thighs and balls, listening to how him calling out to you,
“P-pretty…please.” he moaned wanting to gain control but couldn’t, the hold you had over him was insane.
No woman has ever had this strong of a hold over Jungkook. He was always in control. This was a unique change.
And he liked it.
“What is it baby, you want me to stop?” You purred in his ear listening to his moans and groans.
“Fuck. Let me fuck you, I want to fuck you please” he begged, which shocked him, cause he never does that.
Never.
The water slapped against your pussy as he had you bent over the wall of the pool, sending deep and long strokes to your core. Your moans were getting loud and so was his. “FUCK, baby faster faster” you moaned clenching around his hardened member.
Feeling that familiar feeling
Jungkook eyes shot open, taken back at how you were getting off to him groaning and stroking his member. “Don’t stop baby, you can finish. It’s okay honey” you said looking into his red face...
“I-I gotta go. T-thank you, pretty,” he said hanging up before you could even reply.
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imagine: you just had a nasty breakup and you decide to take a break from serious dating and have a hot girl summer for yourself. just sex zero commitments fuck as many people as you want. the problem arises when the first guy you end up fucking, bakugou, is so good so you decide to keep him on as a fuck buddy while you continue looking for future conquests.
little do you know that bakugou fell head over heels for you after that first night together and now he’s doing everything within his power to get you to fall in love with him, that is everything short of actually telling you his feelings because he’s so emotionally constipated and damn near bites your head off when you playfully joke that he might have a crush on you.
oh my god oh my god (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)
bakugou tries to keep his cool so bad, doesn’t ask questions or doesn’t want to think about how you’re still out there seeing other people aside from him. he feels a little ridiculous that it seems to be a one sided thing—he’s got your contact pinned to the top of his text inbox, he keeps toiletries of your preference in his home, and hell he gave you his passwords for two of the streaming services he pays for!
it’s all shit that he thinks screams i fucking like you!
and yet he can’t muster up the actual words to say it out loud. because you don’t want to be tied down, you want to experience being single after your shit break up, and you don’t trust any person right now to handle your heart after what you’ve been through.
bakugou respects all that, but he really really wants you and you’re the only one he wants to be seeing. he’s so damn stupid though because you joked one time about him having some feels for you and he was too quick to snap at you.
“this is only for fun, that’s it.” he reacts instinctively even though he knew he should have said otherwise in that moment. and there was no awkward silence or weird look with how fast he reacted to your joke. only a laugh and an agreeing nod as you dipped a strawberry into a little bowl of nutella he had ready for you as a post sex snack.
“yeah, i’m sooo grateful that you’re my number one right now. can’t believe how lucky i was to get you on the first try!”
number one on your roster, it’s a title that bakugou is happy to have and also hates it at the same time. there’s others after him, numbers two to four or maybe you’ve got eight people on your list—fuck!!!
it drives him crazy!
he doesn’t want to drive you off with these stupid feelings, and he’s especially smug when you text him about some date that had pissed you off beforehand and that you’re heading over to his place. he hopes that the sex he gives you is so good that it’s enough for you to reconsider just making him your only fuck buddy. he quite literally prays on the downfall of your dating life so that he’s the only one around.
so for now he settles with letting you sleep in his bed when he fucks you too hard, hoping that the breakfast he makes you in the morning screams the message i can be your boyfriend.
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Hiii angel 💓💓 you have to do more of sugar daddy rafe plss 🙏 how they meet?
nsfw
i feel like you were already a kook. a rich, spoiled one at that. then because of your behaviors towards other people (both pogues and kooks you didn’t like) your parents had really had enough. like to the point where they cut down your allowance, yet that still didn’t seem to work on you.
one day your father told you “you need to get a job. no more funds from us.” which completely broke you down. you had been so dependent on them you’re entire life, because now you were 19 about to turn 20 with no real experience of having a job. in all your years, you grew up so wealthy. there wasn’t a need to have one. but here you were, begging your dad to keep you in his good graces.
“eventually you’ll need to work. where do you think i got all my money from?” he reasons, and now it’s starting to click.
“where would i even work?” you’d ask, almost on the verge of tears.
“a friend of mine named ward needs a gardener. he pays pretty well too. just start from there.” he says. this really blew you. who did you look like being someone’s maid?
“you’re joking right?” you stared at him blankly.
“it’s that or nothing.” your father gets up and walks away. now you really could cry, but you were more angry than anything.
—
you’d spend days holding off on actually contacting the cameron’s, but when the allowance money started to run out after a major shopping spree, you were ultimately left with no choice.
you called ward and asked if he still needed a gardener, and he most definitely did since he gave you the job on the spot. “you can start tomorrow at 8, if you’d like.” he said. money is money.
“of course, see you then.” when you hung up, you let out a breath of air, fully accepting your place and status now. you were the entitled kook princess, now turning into someone working for the cameron’s.
when the next morning came, you introduced yourself to ward, rose and wheezie. rose had instructed you on what to do, and ward explained the payment plan which was good enough. sooner than later, you’d started working in their front yard planting all kinds of flowers.
that’s pretty much how it looked for weeks. on top of that, not many people knew, which was a good thing.
you’d show up at 8, rose would make you something if you were hungry, then you’d get to work. but one day, it seemed like the angels were on your side.
you were working on figuring out how to keep that damn rosemary alive when you heard a voice behind you. and it didn’t belong to ward.
“who are you?” the man said. you turned around to see who was asking, and it was no other than rafe cameron.
“why?” you questioned. rafe recognized you too. everyone knew who you were, and it was embarrassing enough that the son of the richest person on the island knew you were working for his family. y/n y/l/n was supposed to be immune to working.
he smirks. “i know you.”
there was no refraining from the eye roll that crept up. “yea i bet you do.”
“why are you working here? don’t you just get what you want?” you were surprised he knew all this about you, aware of how much older he was.
“my dad cut my allowance.” you explained while working on the rosemary again.
“ouch.” he said while walking inside, abruptly ending the conversation. this kind of pissed you off but you paid no mind. moments later, he came back out with a glass of water.
“here,” he hands it to you, “it’s scorching out here.”
“thanks,” you accepted it, and took a long sip. for the rest of the time you were working, the two of you made small talk. even though the age gap was there, you still found enough to talk about.
an easy few hours later with rafe talking to you, and occasionally helping, your shift was over. and now suddenly you were perched on the bathroom sink, sundress bunched up and panties pulled to the side. rafe was balls deep, hitting that good spot and ready to bust one at any moment.
his hand covered your mouth to keep your moans quiet, and had the door locked so not a single soul could interrupt.
“fuckk,” he groans. “best pussy i’ve felt in a while, i’ll tell you that.”
a few more thrusts and you were done. your head falling onto his shoulder and ragged breaths for air.
your release sent his off, him quickly pulling out then sending you to your knees.
he jerked himself a few times, “open.”
doing exactly what he said, your mouth opened and you had your tongue stuck out. he finally cums, aiming for your mouth but some ended right below your eye.
when he was done, he wiped the remains from your face with his thumb, and had you suck on it. you stood up from the floor, wobbly and really hoping that no one heard anything.
rafe gathers himself, “a tight cunt like that doesn’t need to be working.”
you let out a laugh. “well here i am.”
“nah, not with me.” he zips his shorts back up. “i’ll take real good care of you. no more gardening.”
and ever since then, you were back to being the spoiled princess you were destined to be.
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chapter one
“by your side, i’ll be your seasons.”
— ꨄ —
CHAPTER TWO
“you’re..”
you didn’t know how to react. even though you were shocked, you stayed in the same place and continued making eye contact with him.
“you’re telling my family that i’m on the balcony, aren’t you?” hyunjin asked, putting his hair up in a ponytail.
“no.. i have no reason to.”
you really had some questions to ask him. before you can ask, hyunjin quickly hides around the corner on the opposite side of the balcony.
hyunjin spotted a few of his bodyguards from the lower level. he didn’t want to be seen, so he hid further away from the main enterance of the ballroom.
you followed, completely unsure as to why he suddenly started hiding.
“okay, what are you doing?”
“i just saw my bodyguards. i’m sure they’re looking for me.”
hyunjin was sitting on the floor with his back against the cold wall. you sat down next to him, still having questions for him.
“but.. why are you hiding?”
hyunjin sighed, “it’s a long story.”
“so tell me.”
that’s when hyunjin explained everything to you. his family was rushing him to get married. rushing him so much that if hyunjin didn’t propose to anyone at tonight’s ball, his family would arrange the marriage themselves.
the family allowed hyunjin to pick his own wife, but his answer was always no. at first, he used to feel horrible about rejecting the girls.
now, it’s something he’s used to and says no without any hesitation.
hyunjin decided to sneak out of his home and stayed with his bestfriend, seungmin, last night. to avoid being recognized, hyunjin also temporarily dyed his hair blonde.
since this morning, his family has been looking for him. postponing the ball was not an option since it was last minute. the hwang family attended the ball anyways, with plans to push back the proposals.
“wow.. that must be overwhelming.”
he sighs again, getting up from sitting down on the ground. “it is. i just wish things were.. different.”
continuing to watch the stars sparkle in the sky, you both sat in a comfortable silence.
the ball should be ending soon, which means you should be making your way back inside.
there was still so much more that you wanted to know about him. you may never have this opportunity again.
“are you going home tonight?”
hyunjin shrugged his shoulders, unsure of his own answer. “i should, but i don’t think i will.”
“and where will you be staying?”
before he could open his mouth to answer, realization came to him when he realized that his family could possibly show up at seungmin’s house to ask about him.
you laughed, “so you’re just running around and hiding without a plan of where you’re staying tonight?”
“i’ll be fine.”
for some reason.. you wanted to help him. you didn’t understand his life, and you never will. but he was very open and shared so much about himself when he didn’t have to.
this is the least i can do.
“you can stay with me tonight.”
he agreed to stay with you. he won’t worry about what could happen tomorrow. tonight, he just wanted to escape from reality.
—
i can’t believe i snuck prince hyunjin into my bedroom.
you and hyunjin had the entire house to yourselves.
your parents, especially your mother, may possibly be upset that you left the ball early. you had to come up with a lie somehow.
“my parents will be home soon. if they come to my door, stay quiet or the both of us won’t hear the end of it.”
hyunjin made himself comfortable by sitting on the bed you made for him with many pillows and blankets. “trust me, i will. i don’t want to be here anyway.”
you rolled your eyes at him. “so you can take your ass out of my bedroom then. the door is open.”
“i’m joking, sweetheart.” he turned himself towards you and winked.
you didn’t expect the prince of the hwang family to have such a sarcastic personality.
“joking, my ass. you’re definitely not like the princes i’ve read about in romance novels.”
“of course i’m not like them, you’re reading fiction.”
changing the topic, while hyunjin was talking to you about wishing he could stay blonde and keep his hair long, but couldn’t due to strict family rules of having short black hair to look more professional, you were removing your makeup.
minutes later, you went to the bathroom to change into your comfortable evening clothes.
when you came back, you nearly felt your jaw drop to the floor.
hyunjin is shirtless.
he was sitting up, his top sat close to your nightstand as he was drinking the glass of water that you brought him earlier.
you felt heat rise into your face.
“where’s your shirt?!”
he points to his top that was laying on the floor.
“but why did you.. take it off?”
“my top and corset was uncomfortable so i took it off and i doubt you have an extra shirt for me to sleep in.”
he has a point. but why does my face feel so hot?
while you were flustered, you pretended not to be.
“i’m going to sleep, tomorrow might be a very long day.”
you climbed in bed, already feeling the tiredness making it’s way to you. you pulled the covers over you and turned to your side to sleep comfortably.
as soon as you could close your eyes, hyunjin asks you a question.
“hey. before you sleep, i wanted to know.. what’s your name?”
“y/n.”
he nodded, a warm smile appearing on his face as he suddenly became sleepy.
hyunjin thought to himself,
that’s a beautiful name.
— ꨄ —
author’s note.
~ i love the banter in this story!
~ taglist coming soon for moonlight since i’ve received a few requests to do one.
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