#if you saw me post this before with one of the images not loading no you didn't <3
Marry You - Dabi x Reader
Tags: Marriage proposal, branding, innuendo, fluff and angst
Author’s note: I was going through my AO3 and noticed I hadn’t posted this one here yet. So have this while I work in other stuff
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“I wanna marry you.”
The statement was so blunt it knocked the damn wind out of you. With eyes the size of saucers and a white knuckle grip on your cup of coffee, you turned to your boyfriend who was still nonchalantly poking around the eggs on his plate.
“You want to-”
“Marry you.” He interrupted you, blue eyes meeting yours. He looked so nonplussed, it almost seemed like he just made a comment on the weather.
Your sense seemed to return to you as you put the coffee cup down on the counter, facing the arsonist who lazily chewed on his breakfast. What a scene it must be, you in nothing but his shirt and panties and him in nothing but his underwear, the question still hanging heavily in the air.
Far from the dreams you had when you were younger of elaborate proposals with grand gestures of romance.
“Dabi, are you hearing yourself right now?” You asked, a little incredulously. The villain shrugged, finishing his mouthful of food.
“Yeah?” He said, poking around his food again and suddenly seeming skittish about keeping eye contact. “You can just say no if-”
“No that’s not-” you cut yourself off, mulling over the words that were failing you. You eventually settled on: “It’s not a no.”
“But it’s also not a yes.” Dabi added, and you could pick up on the edge of hurt lacing his words. Looking at him, you saw his shoulders droop the slightest bit and he seemed intensely focused on his eggs.
And just like that your heart shattered into a million little pieces.
“Dabi, just-” You paused again, biting your lip for a moment before continuing. “I don’t think we can get married. You’re-”
“A villain, I know.” he said, still refusing to meet your eyes again. “Not the best husband material.”
"I'd… it certainly wouldn't be easy." You admitted. "You just… caught me off guard. It's a pretty loaded question."
Dabi's jaw tightened as he stabbed at a piece of scrambled egg maybe a little too hard.
You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. With unsteady hands, you reached for your coffee. Just to give yourself something to anchor yourself to.
"Where would we do it?" You said without thinking. You quickly brought the cup to your mouth.
The look of surprise on his face was almost adorable and was sadly gone as soon as it appeared.
"Was thinking, the hideout. Compress is ordained," of course he was. "So he could like…"
Dabi vaguely gestured with his fork, his eyes finally meeting yours again. You held his gaze for a moment, breaking it to look down at your cup.
"Lemme guess, Twice is gonna be your best man." You asked, finding yourself smiling at the mental image of Jin barely holding it together at Dabi's side.
"Sure as fuck not gonna ask handface mcgee." Dabi added with a huff. "Toga can be your bridesmaid."
You chuckled, a warm feeling of fondness bubbling up in your chest as you pictured everything.
Dabi in a suit he'd borrowed from Kurogiri, Twice at his side already a blubbering mess. You'd probably wear some simple, white dress, Toga likely insisting on doing your hair and makeup. The rest of the league sitting nearby, watching.
"What about rings, thought?" You asked, looking back at Dabi. He seemed pensive for a moment.
"I have an idea but I need to know if it's gonna be a yes or a no, doll."
You felt nervous as you put your coffee cup down again, thinking.
"Ask me again. Properly."
Dabi huffed out a laugh and got up, walking until he was in front of you. One bony knee hit the cold kitchen tiles. His hands found yours and he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss against the back of your left hand.
You felt nervous, butterflies doing an entire choreographed routine in your stomach as Dabi seemed to gather his words.
"You know I'm not great with words." He hesitated for a moment. "But I do want you to know I love you. A lot. So… Will you marry me?"
There was an honesty to his face that made your heart skip a beat. He looked so vulnerable and borderline scared of rejection. You'd never seen him like this before.
You found yourself smiling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
Dabi rose to his feet again, wrapping his arms around you in a crushing hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him back, burying your face in his shoulder.
You were pretty sure you'd never felt this in love with someone before.
You both stood there in silence for a moment, holding onto each other before Dabi broke the silence.
"I don't have a ring for you, but I can- I can do something else. But it's gonna hurt."
Your eyebrows furrowed at the statement but then Dabi, with his flair for the dramatic, snapped his fingers. A little blue flame sprung forth and you connected the dots.
"You can always say n-"
Your forwardness took the both of you off guard, Dabi looking pensive for a moment.
"You are absolutely sure, right?" He asked, self doubt leaking into his words. You nodded, grabbing his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"I'm gonna marry you aren't I?"
A smile Dabi could barely suppress spread on his face, his hand squeezing yours this time.
"Okay we're gonna have to put it under water when I'm done. And it's…" he frowned a bit. "It's not gonna feel good."
You worried your bottom lip with your teeth.
"Just… do it already." You urged, nervous. Dabi looked you in the eye for a moment as if he was looking for any trace of regret. You held his gaze as best you could to reassure him wordlessly.
He let out a tuneless little hum when he seemed satisfied, bringing your left hand up to his mouth. He pressed another kiss on the back of it, so gentle it seemed like he was terrified of breaking you.
"Take a deep breath for me." He softly spoke, the tip of his index finger settling at the base of your ring finger. "Breathe out slowly when i-"
You nodded, drawing in a deep breath.
The pain was almost unbearable. The smell was arguably worse.
Tears pooled in your eyes as Dabi drew a circle around your finger. The breath you'd drawn in seemed stuck in your throat, mouth open in a soundless scream as you fought the urge to pull your hand back.
Dabi muttered soft encouragement that barely registered with you, his hand turning yours.
Then the burn stopped, Dabi's hand grabbing the back of your neck gently, pressing a kiss against your forehead.
"You did great. Worst part is over now."
You were breathing heavily, cradling your wounded hand against your chest. Adrenaline was rushing through your veins as you saw the parody of an engagement ring on your finger.
"Let's run that under some cold water." Dabi said, voice soft as he carefully urged you to the sink.
He fiddled with the taps, holding your hand in his under the cool water. The burn eased a little and you let out a sigh of relief.
You were so in your own head you almost missed Dabi letting go, followed by a string of hissed curses. You looked over, heart leaping in your throat as you saw him burn his own finger.
"Dabi what are you-"
"Now we match." He breathed out, giving you a strained smile.
His hand joined yours under the tap and you let out a breathless little laugh. He chuckled, turning to press a kiss against your temple.
"Didn't expect my morning to end in consensual branding." You joked, Dabi snorting.
"We just got engaged and that's what you focus on." He teased. You nudged him with your elbow.
"Don't bully your future spouse."
The reality of everything seemed to sink in, the two of you staring at each other. You leaned in, Dabi quick to press a borderline feverish kiss against your mouth.
More kisses followed, leaving you absolutely breathless. His free arm snaked around your waist, pressing you close to him. You withdrew your hand from the water, your arm finding purchase around his neck, keeping him close.
"Let's get this cleaned up," the arsonist mumbled against your neck. "I feel like celebrating."
"Then we're gonna break the news to-"
"It's cute that you think I'll be done with you so quickly."
"Is that a threat or a promise."
"A promise. Till death do us part, baby."
How Would You Feel *Part 2*
It’s been a couple weeks since your explosive argument with Jack. You both decided to just spend some time apart but at the same time still check in with each other. And as the weeks went by, people got more and more suspicious of your guys status. You still followed him on your socials, and he still followed you. But at the same time you haven’t posted any pictures of him and the same with him. No paparazzi have spotted you guys anywhere and you haven’t been as interactive with his fans like you used to
You were bombard with so many people questioning and wanting to know what happened. And the headlines were non stop. “What happened with Y/N and Jack” “Jack and Y/N Confirm Split” “Jack Seen With New Girl After Split”
Things like that never bothered you but you had enough. You decided to just deactivate your socials. You knew it wouldn’t stop all the questions but for now it was just a quick fix.
You were so used to yours days being made better with Jacks presence or his calls to check on you. You missed him but at the same time he lied to you, you didn’t trust him and you were in no place to forgive him or get back together
After spending weeks of just working or staying him, you friends Dana and Lexis convinced you to go out with lunch with them. You wanted to but at the same time you don’t want people staring or taking pictures of you. That’s the thing that sucks about dating a celebrity, your taking on all those downsides. The invasion of privacy 24/7. After begging and begging, you gave in and said yes
“So, how have you been? You’ve barely gone out and all your texts are just…monotone”, Dana asked putting her glass down
“I’ve been, alright I guess. Doing the best I can do you know”, you said trying to convince them. But inside you are still hurt. Sad that you’ve been lonely and kind of missing him, but at the same time you’re angry. He cheated and it felt like he didn’t have any remorse.
“Girl, you don’t have to put on a brave face for us. If I were you I’d currently be awaiting trial for setting his clothes on fire”, lexis said laughing. you tried to laugh but you couldn’t, instead tears started to flowing and you couldn’t stop
“You’re right”, you said sniffling. “I’m a mess. I’m upset at the fact that I trusted him and wasted my time trying to make our relationship work. I’m sad because I secretly miss him and want to hold him on more time. It’s like I can’t get the image of those videos and pictures out of my head. I can’t help but think if they did anything else and he’s not telling me, you know”
“It’s ok, let it out”, Dana said rubbing your back. “You know what you need? A new guy in your life. Someone to take your mind of of all this …off of HIM”
“No, no. I can’t. I’m not ready. I don’t want to jump into something else still feeling the way i feel”, you said
“I think you’d really like him. Just let me know if you change your mind”, Dana said
After a long emotional day, you decided to just chill at home and enjoy your time off. You were tired emotionally and physically. But at the same time it felt nice to let everything out and talk about it
You were browsing on your phone and couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. You decided to reactivate your instagram and just limit your comments and turn off your tags, but before you could do that you saw that you had over 99+ photos/videos you were tagged in. You know you shouldn’t, but at the same time you couldn’t help it and gave in
Most of the tags were just old pictures of you and jack, typical. A few were in news pages wondering about “the split”. You refreshed the them and a load more popped up and your stomach sank. It was pictures of jack and a few of his guys friends leaving a club, shielding their face from the paps. But it wasn’t just that, you noticed two girls with them. In one picture, jack had his hand on one of the girls back. And in another, one of the paparazzi managed to snap a pic of them in the car. He was sat next to a girl and she rested her head on his shoulder, and he rested his head on her head
You were sick. Your heading starting filling up with so many questions. “How could he do this” “Did he move on that quick” “Who is that girl” “What where they doing at the club”. Of course you and jack weren’t really together anymore so it’s not like he wasn’t allowed to be around other girls, but at the same time it hurt
You’ve been a mess ever since you saw that video of that girl grinding on jack. And you still were now. And it seems like Jack was doing just fine, living his life like nothing ever happened.
The sadness started to go away, and instead you were filled with anger. You were never the revenged type girl, but you felt different. If he could go back out there and fool around with whoever, then so could you. You were tired of people giving you pity, feeling sorry because your boyfriend cheated on you for the worldwide web to see
You decided to call up dana and accept her offer
“Oohhhh, girl im so excited for you. Ok, im gonna send you his insta so you guys can talk first before you exchange numbers. And don’t be mad, he’s kinda expecting you to dm him”, dana said
You hung up the phone and checked the guys insta and man was he gorgeous. He had hazel eyes and olive skin. You messaged him
Hey, It’s Dana’s friend y/n. I would love to get to know you
Let’s see how this goes
Player: Jamie Oleksiak
Summary: "you know my ex and that makes it all feel complicated, yeah"
Warnings: smut (nsfw text), alcohol (brief), plus size reader, fat-phobic remarks
Notes: can you guys believe that I am here in the year 2021 posting actual writing? It's been literal years so please go easy on me. Heavily influenced by My Ex's Best Friend by MGK. I also really don't know all that much about Big Rig so I hope this isn't too out of character. Lastly, it is really not my style to write mean girls into my stories, but they do exist and it just fit the vibe. Thanks for reading!
It's 2am, and you should be home in bed. In fact, you wish you were home in bed, but instead you're sitting at the other end of a brown leather couch while your best friend Gina makes out with some hockey player. And okay, he's not just some hockey player, his name is Doug and you've known him for years and he and Gina are a new thing, but that doesn't stop you from being annoyed with the entire situation. Yes, there is actually a party going on around you, there's people you vaguely know playing beer pong in the next room and a couple of your girlfriends are sitting on the living room floor watching New Girl on Netflix, but you just want to go home, and Gina was supposed to be going home with you.
You look up from the Uber app loading slowly on your phone, swallowing involuntarily as you take in the owner of the voice standing in front of you. Your palms instantly go sweaty and your cheeks start to get warm, your body instinctively reacting to the way you want him, regardless of your brain's awareness that he is, and always has been, off limits.
"Jamieson," you manage to blurt out, the little bit of White Claw still in your system giving you the courage to dig for your normal teasing manner. "Long time no see."
Jamie's lips quirk in a smirk, but you're not paying much attention to his face, too caught up in the breadth of his chest and the black lines of the tattoos curling around his thick arms. "Is she here?"
The simple question has your eyes flicking back to Jamie's and your thoughts crashing back to reality. "No," you shake your head, trying to ignore the nasty feeling crawling up the back of your throat at the images flashing through your head. But they're burned in your memory, the image of his giant hand settled low on the small of your friend Carly's back, the two of them making out in the pool, grinding on the dance floor of a club, memories from a summer two years ago immediately bubbling to the surface. You had liked him first, of course you had. You'd liked him from the first time you saw him, at a hockey party when you were eighteen and even more shy than you are now. Except. Well. The thing is, you are friends with some exceptionally beautiful girls. And while that has allowed you to somehow get the invite to parties you never would have been invited to under normal circumstances, you very clearly knew your place. And really, you weren't all that interested in these shallow hockey players that were just competing amongst themselves to see who could fuck the hottest girl. You clearly were not the hottest girl, so you fully embraced your role of the fat best friend. As you grew up, your sense of self worth grew with you. You knew now that you were beautiful, that your full figure was just one of the many things that a person could love about you. And there had been lovers, one for a couple of years even, and maybe that was why you were so annoyed that you were 28 years old and somehow back at a hockey party. That and the fact that you were old enough to know better when Carly asked you if you cared if she went home with Jamie that night two years ago, old enough to know you should have maybe been honest with her. But instead you scoffed and shook your head, watching from the sidelines as the man you'd been crushing on for years had a summer fling with your then best friend.
"Good," Jamie grins, sinking down onto the couch with you, his body big even next to your own. You quirk an eyebrow at him, a little bit surprised by that sentiment. He and Carly didn't really have a bad break-up or anything, he just went back to Dallas for the season and things just kind of fizzled out. "What?" Jamie shrugs a little bit, the movement causing you to sink against his side. "I'm convinced she's been trying to keep us apart for years."
You laugh, even though there's nothing funny about it. You've suspected the same thing, even asked Carly about it once. She claimed it was for your own good, that she didn't want Jamie to lead you on and break your heart. Which at the time you'd agreed with, but looking back just makes you mad and a little sick. "Well you know, girl code and everything," you shrug, laughing when Jamie rolls his eyes.
"As if a single one of your friends has ever followed any sort of code." He says it like a joke, but there's something steely in the blue of his eyes, almost like it makes him mad.
"Certainly not a dress code," you smirk, smiling when that gets a laugh out of him, his arm stretched along the back of the couch dropping to your shoulders and pulling you closer. It makes you nervous for a second, his hand on your thick upper arm, but then you realize that his hand is so big he probably doesn't even notice anyways. You pull your legs up beneath you on the couch and lean into him, changing the subject. "So, Seattle? The jerseys are pretty sexy if I do say so myself."
Jamie's smile goes wide, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "You gonna buy one with my name on it?"
You scoff, your cheeks going even hotter as you think about the custom Oleksiak jersey sitting in your fanatics cart, just waiting to confirm that his number will stay the same. "In your dreams," you mumble, checking your phone as if you actually have any notifications in an attempt to save face.
"You already bought one, didn't you?" Jamie's still smiling, though it's softened around the edges, his arm tightening around your shoulders.
"No, god," you protest, squirming under his gaze.
"You're so fucking cute," Jamie says, his voice so soft you're not sure if you were even supposed to hear it. His phone dings in his pocket, and he pulls it out, squinting at the screen. "Wanna get out of here?"
It's such a non sequitur that you blink at him for a second, completely thrown off. The unspoken invitation is there too, and you know from the way he's looking at you that he somehow doesn't just see you as his ex's fat best friend. "Yeah, uh, okay." You scramble to your feet, shooting a glance over at the... pile of Gina and Doug at the other end of the couch. They're both watching you, which is weird and creepy enough without them still being tangled in an embrace (and also very close to 30 and too old to be acting this way to begin with but that's another story). Gina winks at you - or tries to anyway - her smile warm and genuine. Jamie stands up and grabs your hand, tugging until you follow him through the party.
The next thing you know you're in the back of a black SUV. Jamie's legs are splayed wide, his knee pressing against yours and his hand resting on your thigh. The driver seems to know him, and you gather it's a car service he uses often from their familiar conversation. Your entire body feels too hot, like your skin is suddenly too tight and your heart is trying to beat it's way out of your rib cage.
"Is this wrong?" You whisper as the car stops in front of Jamie's building, guilt attempting to claw its way up your throat.
"This is about me and you," Jamie says, his voice firm. "Not Carly." With that he climbs out of the car, and after a second you follow, your hand finding Jamie's right there on the sidewalk.
He nods at the doorman and presses the button for the elevator, the tension between you building as you wait. The doors finally slide open and you step inside, both of you turning to face the doors as they slide closed. Jamie presses the button for the 10th floor, and as soon as the elevator starts to move he turns to you. His eyes are dark and warm as he reaches for you slowly, giving you enough time to deny him before his hands settle on your hips. "I've wanted to do this for a long time," he whispers, and electricity sizzles from your head to the tips of your toes as he pulls you into a kiss. You're not sure if it's the elevator rising or the warm press of his lips that has your stomach swooping, your eyes falling closed as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. Jamie pushes you back against the wall, and you barely notice the rail cutting into your back as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against your own. Jamie moans when you card your fingers through his hair, his hands pushing down the back of your shorts, squeezing your ass as he pulls you up against him. You can't think clearly, all you can think about is getting his clothes off as quickly as possible.
Thankfully, the elevator dings and you pull apart slightly, the doors sliding open on the 10th floor. Jame grins at you and grabs your hand, leading you down the hall to apartment number 10D. His hands tremble just slightly as he shoves the key into the lock, that small sign that you're affecting him too, sending a surge of warmth through your chest. He ushers you inside, and before you can even really get your bearings he's leading you to the bedroom, his shirt coming off as you walk down the hall. Your mouth goes dry as you stare at his broad shoulders, the muscles bunching and stretching beneath his skin as he tosses the shirt. His bedroom is small - or maybe it just feels that way with the Calfornia king bed taking up so much space. The sheets are still rumpled from the night before but before you can tease him for that, Jamie’s reaching for you, his hands sliding up your sides beneath your shirt, tugging it up and off as you lift your arms.
“Perfect,” Jamie murmurs, his hands cupping your breast over your bra. The softness in his voice makes everything feel different, warm and syrupy instead of the frenetic energy you would expect from a one night stand. Everything Jamie’s doing is so soft, so purposeful, like he’s trying to commit every curve of your body to memory under the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table.
Before you know it you’re stretched out on his bed, your hands in his hair and his head between your thighs, one of his strong arms pinning down your hips as they buck. “Jamie ,” you whine, your eyes scrunched closed as you beg for your release. “Please, Jamie, don’t stop!” He groans against you, the vibrations sending a delicious shiver up your spine. His fingers inside you hit just the right spot as his tongue flicks against your clit and you come undone, your mouth open in a silent scream as you shake beneath him. Jamie doesn’t stop until you push his head away from your over sensitive clit. He crawls up your body with a proud grin on his face, holding himself up with his hands on either side of your face.
“I could watch you come all day,” he says, and your entire body flushes warm under his gaze. He kisses you before you can come up with a response, his body settling on top of yours. He makes you feel small, and it’s foreign but it feels nice, for once, to not feel like the largest person in any given situation. But you don’t dwell on that long, too distracted by his tongue in your mouth and the hot press of his dick against your thigh.
“You gonna fuck me or what?” You manage, all the attitude you intended lost with the breathlessness of your voice.
Jamie grins, pulling back slightly to grab the condom he’d tossed on the bed earlier. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” It’s so cocky, only exasperated by the way he’s sitting back on his heels and rolling the condom on with a smirk on his face, but god if it isn’t working for you.
“Please,” is all you can say, and it feels a little pathetic but Jamie’s eyes flash and you feel warm all over. He crawls back over you and kisses you open mouthed, slowly pushing inside of you. Like everything else about him his dick is big, and there’s a few beats there when you’re not sure if this is going to work, but after a moment you just feel full. “Oh Jamie,” you sigh, curling one leg over his hips and pulling your other up towards you to give him more space. He starts to move and you swear under your breath, the sensation unlike anything you've ever felt.
He slips one hand between your bodies, his rough fingers on your sensitive clit bringing you quickly over the edge. Jamie follows quickly after you, coming deep inside you with a low groan.
You wake up two hours later to Jamie snoring loudly and early morning sunlight peeking from behind the blinds. There’s a part of you that wants to snuggle back under the covers and tuck yourself under his arm. But there’s something vulnerable about staying, about opening yourself up to the possibility of more. You’ve learned how to protect yourself, and letting this be just a fuck instead of hoping for a relationship is exactly how you’re going to do that. So you slip quietly out of bed and pull your clothes back on and pick up your phone off the floor. You take one last glance over your shoulder, committing the image of Jamie sprawled across his bed to memory. And then you slip out the door.
Jamie doesn’t call or text, but you’re also not sure if he even has your number. He could get it, if he really wanted to, you have plenty of mutual friends who could give it to him. Of course you do have his number and you haven’t done anything about it either, but that’s just because you’re a chicken shit. Plus, Carly’s back in town out of the blue and you’re dealing with some guilt on top of being scared.
��Two weeks go by before you see Jamie again. Everyone’s hanging out at the bar, and Jamie’s the first person you see when you walk in. You force your eyes to flick right over him though, hyper aware of Carly’s presence beside you and the way her hand tightens around your arm when she sees Jamie. The flash of hurt in Jamie’s eyes when you look past him doesn’t help anything, and you suddenly wish you had just stayed home.
“Big Rig looks good,” Carly whispers in your ear as she drags you toward a table where Gina and a couple other girls are sitting. “And you know… his rig is like, big, if you know what I mean.” She giggles, shaking her long dark hair over her shoulder and glancing coyly in Jamie’s direction. You do know what she means, considering that you had it for yourself not long ago. “Maybe he’ll let me have one more ride.”
The blood drains from your face and your stomach churns, jealousy and guilt and all the other nasty feelings mixing together in your gut. Gina gives you a concerned look as you drop into the seat beside her, pushing an untouched glass of water in your direction. You force a smile for her before gratefully taking the glass, hoping it can shield you until the blood at least returns to your cheeks.
Carly doesn’t notice though, too busy making eyes at Jamie across the room. As much as you were trying to protect yourself by letting it be a one night stand, you’re now realizing that in reality you just wanted to see if Jamie would chase you. You want him to choose you, to want you, dimpled thighs and all. But you’re not sure how anyone would choose you over Carly, with her long legs and pert breasts and tiny waist.
Your phone buzzes in your hand, and you glance down to see a text from Gina. Which is weird, considering she’s sitting right next to you.
Gina 🌼: rig is staring at you
Gina 🌼: Carly doesn’t know you finally hooked up with him does she
You frown down at your phone before glancing towards the bar. Jamie is staring at you, though it’s possible he’s looking at Carly. But judging by the slight furrow to his brow, you figure it’s you putting the frown on his face.
Me: she’s going to hook up with him tonight
Gina huffs beside you and pockets her phone, which is kind of rude considering the fact that you’re sitting right there. “Come to the bathroom with me, yeah?” She says, more of a demand than a question. You slide out of the booth and follow her to the restrooms, pretending you don’t see Jamie and the way his eyes follow you across the room.
“What is the matter with you?” Gina hisses as soon as the bathroom door closes behind you. “You’re really just going to let Carly walk all over you forever?”
“What do you want me to do?” You half whine, trying to ignore the sting of tears at the back of your eyes. “No one would ever choose me over her. And besides, I slept with her ex, that’s against the rules.”
“Yeah well so is dating a guy that your friend has a massive crush on!” Gina replies, too loud. “Nevermind how Rig’s been into you forever too and she knew that! She’s not a good friend honey, I’m sorry. But I’m not going to let you miss out on a good thing because you’re too busy trying to be a good friend to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
Silence settles between you as you work through that, a single tear leaking down your cheek. “He’s… he likes me?”
Gina rolls her eyes but smiles, laughing softly. “Yeah, for like, ever. I think you’re the only one who doesn’t know.”
“Well he’s probably just embarrassed-“
“Don’t start with that. He’s crazy about you -“ Gina cuts herself off as Carly walks into the bathroom, raising her eyebrows at the two of you clearly in the middle of a serious conversation. You turn and rush back out the door before she can ask any questions, overwhelmed and afraid of what will come out of your mouth.
The back door to the bar is just down the hall and you slip out of it, sucking in deep breaths of summer night air. For a moment you wish you smoked cigarettes, just for something to do while you’re standing here trying to sort your brain out. You want to believe that Gina is right, want it to be true that Jamie is as into you as you are him. But those old insecurities creep back in, whispering how you’re not enough for anyone, never mind Jamie.
You’ve just about got yourself settled back down and have made the decision to go home as quickly as possible, when the door swings open, light spilling out into the dark alley.
“What are you doing out here?” There’s an edge to Jamie’s voice but it doesn’t scare you, instead it has tendrils of warmth curling tightly around your core. He’s just a dark silhouette but your body still reacts instinctually to his presence, your back arching and lips parting without permission. “Oh,” he continues after a beat of silence. “Are you ignoring me even when we’re alone now too?” His voice trembles, with hurt or anger or both maybe, but you’re still pulled to him, like there’s a magnet inside each of you, drawing you in.
You’re not sure who moves first but the door slams closed and then you're kissing, your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist and your shoulders pressed against the brick wall. He picked you up and you can’t even marvel at that because he’s kissing you like the world is ending and he wants to die with the taste of your kiss on his tongue. You kiss him back frantically, clinging to him for dear life. His lips trail down your neck, stubble catching on your soft skin just right, sending a shudder down your spine.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper against his neck. “I was - I am - I’m just -“ before you can get the word out, the door slams open again and you both freeze.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” An all too familiar voice says.
Your stomach turns, dread filling you as you anticipate Carly’s reaction. She sounds pissed, and you know it won’t take long for her insults to turn personal and mean hearted. Jamie, however, doesn’t seem worried at all, pressing lazy kisses up the side of your neck.
“Hey,” he says over his shoulder. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”
Carly gasps, and you shrink smaller, trying to hide yourself beneath Jamie. “I’d say my ex boyfriend and my back stabbing fat bitch of a friend fucking in an alley is very much my business!”
You flinch at her words, tears immediately pooling in your eyes at the insult. Jamie shakes his head and presses a gentle kiss to your lips before lowering your feet back to the ground. “I’ll be right back with you in a minute, baby,” he murmurs, before turning to face Carly, placing himself firmly between you and her.
“You’re not a good person,” Jamie says simply, holding up his hands. “It’s clear to me now that you used me and our relationship as a way to hurt a person you call your friend. I don’t get it, but I honestly don’t give enough of a shit about you to figure out if you’re just narcissistic or if you’re intentionally cruel.”
Silence settles over the alley, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You’d like to peek around Jamie just to see what Carly’s face is doing, but you’re too scared, not about to give her any reminder that you’re there. “People are going to think you’re messed up in the head for choosing her over me,” she says finally, her voice deadly soft. “You could do so much better.”
“There’s no choice there,” Jamie replies, faster than you’d expected. “Don’t act like you’re after my heart Carly, like you wanted to be my wife. You used me for sex, and for status, and to get access to more famous hockey players. You don’t care about me, just like you don’t care about anyone other than yourself.”
This time you do lean around Jamie, a sick sense of vindication filling you as you watch Carly’s mouth open and close as she tries to figure out something to say. “Fuck you both,” she settles on, lifting her chin and flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “Hope you both rot in hell.” With that she spins on her heel and marches back inside, letting the door slam behind her.
“Where were we?” Jamie says as he turns back to you, his hands settling on your waist. He looks like he thinks you’re just going to start making out again, his head dipping down to yours, his lips pressing gently against your cheek, then your chin, then your lips. You kiss him back for just a moment before stopping him with a firm hand on his chest.
“Don’t you think we should talk about all this?” You ask, swirling your other hand in the air beside you at the ‘all of this’ you’re referring to. Jamie shrugs and kisses you again, and you want so badly to give in and just let him do whatever he wants to you right here in this alley, but this feels important. “You said, that night in the elevator, that you’d been wanting to kiss me for a long time. How long?”
Jamie huffs and pulls back from kissing your neck, his eyes dark but his lips curling in the corners with a small smile. “Okay, I’m not having this conversation in an alley next to a dumpster.” He grabs your hand and leads you back inside, and you blink in surprise as some of your friends let out a cheer at the sight of you holding hands.
“Atta boy!” Doug says, slapping Jamie on the back as you walk by him. Jamie’s got a proud grin on his face as you take the purse you’d forgotten you’d even brought in with you from Gina’s proffered hand.
“Was it you or him that made Carly so pissed?” Gina whispers, a pleased smirk on her face. “That was glorious.”
“I mean, I think I did by just existing,” you murmur, looping your purse over your shoulder. “But Jamie ripped her a new one.”
Jamie tugs on your hand, and Gina mouths text me the deets as he leads you out the front door. He unlocks his truck and opens the passenger door for you, closing it gently behind you after you swing your legs inside. There’s a black ice little tree air freshener hanging from the rearview and a photo of Jamie with all his siblings - Penny in her Team Canada gear holding up her medals - stuck in the dashboard. Jamie climbs behind the wheel, the truck roaring to life as he turns the key.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you,” he says nonchalantly as he backs out of the parking spot.
“Really?” you ask, smiling to yourself when Jamie reaches for your hand across the center console, his big hand dwarving your own.
“Yeah,” Jamie lets out this little self deprecating chuckle as he pulls out onto the road. “You’re like, so much my type that it’s stupid.”
“Then why’d you date Carly?” The question had to be asked, even as it makes anxiety crawl up the back of your neck.
“Because I was lonely… dumb… I didn’t think you were interested in me and I wanted to get laid, to be honest.” He pauses for a moment, staring out at the road ahead. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by doing that, hindsight is 20/20 and all that.”
“I mean, I did tell Carly it was fine with me if she dated you,” you admit quietly, squirming in the leather seat when Jamie pins you with his steely blue gaze. “I’m kind of a self sabotaging idiot.”
“You sneaking out of my apartment at 6 in the morning a couple weeks ago makes so much more sense now,” Jamie replies, but you can see his smile in the flashes from the streetlights, and your heart flutters in your chest.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” you cover your face with your free hand, sighing loudly. “I thought… I thought if I kept it like, a sex thing, then I wouldn’t end up with a broken heart.” It sounds even more ridiculous when you say it outloud, but Jamie squeezes your hand when he laughs.
“I don’t ever want to break your heart,” he murmurs in the dark, flicking on his blinker to turn right. You realize abruptly that he’s driving you home, surprised he remembers where you live when he’s only been to your house maybe one time. “I’d really just like to make you happy for as long as you let me.”
“Come over for dinner tomorrow night,” you blurt out, your hands starting to sweat. “I want to cook for you.”
“Like a date?” He asks, smirking when you nod, your cheeks burning hot. “Good.” He squeezes your hand gently. “I like to eat.”
“Good,” you turn to look at him, a cheesy smile on your face. “I like to cook.”
That night, he kisses you on your doorstep but refuses to come inside, insisting that he doesn’t put out until at least the night of the first date. It makes you laugh even though it’s not true, and you keep kissing him with your back pressed against your front door and your fingers in his hair until a car driving by on the street honks at you. “Tomorrow night,” Jamie whispers against your lips, giving you one last kiss. “I’ll be here.”
That night, you dream of his hands all over you, waking up in the morning warm and sweaty and filled with anticipation. You fly around your house like a mad woman that morning, cleaning frantically and hurrying out to the market to buy ingredients for dinner. You settle on making your grandma’s chicken parmesan, figuring a classic is better than trying something new and complicated. After making a fresh salad and sticking it in the fridge, you head to the bathroom to get ready, spending way too much time fussing with your hair and make-up for a date in your own home. You pull on your favorite pair of jeans and a push-up bra paired with a low cut tank top, figuring you might as well let the girls have some fun if you’re within the walls of your house.
Just as you set the frying pan on the stove to start warming up, there’s three sharp knocks at your door. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you hurry to open the door, and they take flight at the sight of the beautiful bouquet of flowers Jamie has in his hands.
“Hey,” Jamie smiles, his face freshly shaven and his hair combed. He holds the flowers in one hand and cups your chin with the other, pressing a kiss to your lips. It’s supposed to be chaste, you know, but you can’t help but sigh into it and part your lips. Jamie chuckles softly and deepens the kiss just for a moment, before pulling back. “These are for you… obviously.” He pushes the flowers into your hands, and you take them, turning back to the kitchen to find something to put them in.
“They’re beautiful,” you say as you pull a mason jar down from the cupboard and fill it with water. “Where’d you find them? Hydrangeas are hard to find at florists.”
A flush rises high on Jamie’s cheeks as he stands almost awkwardly at the end of your kitchen counter. “They’re uh… I picked them from my mom’s gardens.”
“Awww,” you grin as you settle the flowers into the jar and set them in the middle of your tiny corner kitchen table. “You really do like me, huh?”
Jamie visibly relaxes as he smiles and nods, his shoulders loosening as he slides into one of the stools at the counter. He watches quietly as you start the burner beneath your frying pan and pour oil into the pan. “Whatcha making?” He asks as you pull out a plate of chicken cutlets from the fridge and set it on the counter next to your dishes filled with breading and egg wash.
“Chicken parm…” you trail off, realizing you never asked him if that would be okay. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Sounds amazing,” he says. He continues to watch as you dip the chicken in the eggs and then in the breading, adding each piece to the hot pan at the end. You work quickly, getting the chicken browned on both sides before dropping them into a casserole dish. The kitchen is quiet except for the snapping of the oil and the music playing from your phone in the corner. It’s a comfortable quiet though, and you’re more focused on not fucking up the food than making conversation. Once the chicken is all browned you pour tomato sauce over the top and cover the whole thing with cheese, before sticking the entire dish into the oven.
“There,” you huff, taking a deep breath and putting your hands on your hips. “Just need to start the water for the pasta.”
“Let me get it,” Jamie says, standing up and coming into the kitchen with you. He takes the pot from your hands, filling it with water in the sink before setting it on the stove. You dump some salt and olive oil into the pot before covering it and turning the burner on.
“Thanks,” you say, suddenly shy with him so big and tall in your little home. Jamie smiles and pushes in closer, until your ass bumps against the cupboards behind you and you can’t move any further.
“You seem to know your way around the kitchen,” he says, his hands sliding down your sides to settle on your hips. “It’s kinda hot.”
“It is not,” you laugh, reaching for his shoulders as he dips his head to kiss you.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Jamie says, and before you can ask what ‘this’ is he’s curling his hands around the back of your thighs and hefting you up onto the counter. Before you can protest you’re sitting firmly on the countertop, and he’s pushing between your legs to kiss you again. “I like this shirt,” he adds, kissing down your neck and all the way down your chest, following the curves of your breasts until they disappear beneath your shirt.
“I was supposed to offer you a drink,” you sigh, your breath hitching when he slips a finger beneath the cup of your bra, brushing your rapidly hardening nipple. “And I have like… a cheeseboard.”
“Rather eat you,” Jamie grunts, and you feel hot all over, your bare toes curling against the backs of his legs. You reach for his face instead of replying, pulling him down into a deep, slow kiss as you wrap your legs around his hips. You kiss and you kiss and you kiss, until your entire face feels raw and wet and your neck is starting to hurt from the angle. But Jamie’s hands are in your hair and under your shirt and you sort of want this to never end.
And then the pasta water boils over.
“Shit!” Pushing Jamie back gently, you slide off the counter, grabbing the box of pasta from next to the stove and dumping it into the boiling water. “I’m trying to impress you with my cooking, and you’re distracting me!”
Jamie grins proudly, laughing when you tap his chest with the wooden spoon in your hand. “Where’s this cheese and wine you’ve been talking about?” He asks, opening your fridge and searching through it. Pushing him aside, you pull out the cheese plate and a bottle of your favorite wine, pouring two healthy glasses.
It’s all easy after that, the conversation and the laughter and the way your legs tangle together beneath your little kitchen table. Jamie humors you and lets you lead him out onto your back deck for your third glasses of wine, settling onto the couch of your patio set with your head on his shoulder and his arm around you. The last bit of color is still clinging to the darketing night sky, and fireflies and lighting up your backyard, and something just settles inside of you.
“I uh… I’m going to have to go out to Seattle for training camp in a few weeks,” Jamie says into the twilight, his fingers twitching where they rest on your upper arm. You swallow hard, trying not to acknowledge the way that knowledge hurts. “I… well, I need to find a place to live… was wondering if you wanted to fly out there with me next weekend to look at places.”
You blink at that, not expecting such a big proposition. “Do you… that seems… uh… you’re uh, sure you really want my opinion?”
Jamie laughs quietly, something nervous about it. “Well I’m honestly hoping you might fall in love with the place and want to come with me.���
“That’s big,” you reply before you can think better of it. “You don’t mess around, Mr. Oleksiak.”
He laughs again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You know, I used to say I’d never fall in love,” he admits quietly, his hand brushing up and down your arm. “But I can’t get enough of you, don’t think I ever will.”
There’s nothing to do after that except set your glass of wine on the coffee table and climb into his lap, kissing him with every ounce of passion you have inside of you. You blow him right there on the back porch, your eyes watering and your panties wet as he comes. Jamie lifts you up over his shoulder like you’re half your size, both of you laughing as he stumbles through your house in search of your bedroom.
He drags your clothes from your body almost reverently, kissing every inch of skin he reveals like it’s holy. Your skin feels like it’s buzzing, and when he begs you to sit on his face you oblige, your thighs trembling on either side of his face as he makes you see stars with his tongue and his lips.
By the time he pushes inside of you, you’re floating on cloud nine, your thoughts fuzzy and your muscles weak and wobbly. Jamie keeps it slow, kissing your lips and your neck and your breasts as he thrusts slowly in and out, in and out. He pushes a pillow under your ass and the change in angle has each thrust hitting just right. You moan, too loud, and from beneath heavy lids you see a proud grin flicker across Jamie’s face.
“Wanna watch you come on my dick,” he pants, and you can only nod, little moans slipping from your lips with each thrust of his hips.
“Just don’t stop,” you murmur, pinching one of your nipples between your fingers. “God, please, Jamie, I’m so close.”
He swears, the rhythm of his hips starting to get faster and faster as he nears his own release. You’re so close, so, so close, and then he thrusts one more time just right and you topple over the edge. There’s a sound you’re not sure you've ever made before coming from your mouth and your legs are shaking as you cling to him, your thoughts just completely empty as you give in to the pleasure. Jamie grunts and fucks into you hard and fast, stilling as he comes with a low groan, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
When you wake up early the next morning, with Jamie’s big body sprawled across your bed and one of his hands cupping your bare breasts, you can’t help but smile. Happily, you wiggle back against him, pressing your ass against his hips and moaning softly when his arms tighten around you. You know then, in that moment, that you’ll never get enough of him either.
welcome to the family
SUMMARY. After mistaking the guy on your lockscreen as your boyfriend, your grandmother knits him a sweater to welcome him into the family. Childe sees your tweet about it the next morning.
PAIRING. celeb!childe x reader
WORD COUNT. 1.0k
GENRE. celeb au, loosely based off a tweet
A/N. small drabble because i kind of got excited at the thought of celeb au childe o.o also like...have u listened to his english va sing those cheesy songs? i absolutely love it HFJKGHG pls enjoy xx sof
You weren’t a fan of the celebrity with the title Tartaglia, alias Childe, real name unknown to the public.
Definitely not a fan.
The only reason you knew even that much about him was simply due to social media blowing him up as the infamous white boy of the month. And from there his fame only grew. (Though you had to admit, he was at least more interesting than the previous other candidates.)
You weren’t a fan, but you couldn’t deny he deserved the recognition he received. His acting was pretty captivating, his singing voice pleasing to the ear, and his body... Well, his body...
“Earth to Y/N,” your mom called, drawing you out of your rapidly spiraling thoughts. You were visiting your family home for the weekend and you were currently in the living room with your mother and grandmother, watching bad reality TV and snacking on junk food. “You’ve been spaced out today. Too busy thinking about your boyfriend?”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”
Like most grandparents, your grandma seemed to have a special radar to let her know when her grandchildren had a potential suitor at hand. Just the mere mention of the word made her perk up. “Boyfriend?”
“Yeah! I don’t know why they were keeping it a secret from us, but I saw the picture on their lockscreen,” she whispered to your grandma conspiratorially, loud enough for you to hear. “He’s a cute guy with ginger hair.”
The picture on your lockscreen off a cute guy with ginger hair… You were only half-embarrassed to recall that it was a picture taken from Childe’s outdoor picnic photoshoot where the poses they made him do attempted to paint the image that he was there on a date with you. His clothes were casual and his smile was familiar.
You absolutely hated that marketing strategy but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t willingly fall for it each time.
But again, you weren’t a fan…
Oh, who were you fooling? You were halfway from breaking and making a Childe fan account if your dignity didn’t get the best of you.
“Your boyfriend! My grandchild finally found love in this world?” asked your grandmother, teary-eyed as she completely ignored her favorite trashy reality show on the television to get a better look at you. “I’m so happy for you! This is so exciting.”
“You have to bring him home and let us meet him,” she rushed on animatedly, giving you no time to squeeze a full sentence in. “No, before you do that, let me make him something for you to give to him! What size is his shirt? Is that a picture of him? Oh he looks nice and strong! I’ll knit him a turtleneck. You give it to him the next time you see him, okay?”
Your grandma ran to get her knitting needles and yarn, leaving a whirlwind in her wake as you stared open-mouthed at the spot she once occupied.
That was how you ended up going home the next day with a brand new turtleneck sweater your grandmother made for your non-existent boyfriend.
The situation was so bizarre, you decided there was only one thing you could do: Pull your phone out as you sat on your bed to tell Twitter about the events of your weekend.
— ✩ —
It wasn’t everyday Childe woke up to check what the top tweets of his tag were on Twitter.
Okay, that’s a lie.
It was everyday.
He had an image to keep, after all. And it interested him to know what others had to say about him, despite how bad that might actually be for his state of mind.
Childe didn’t like deceit, but showing some parts of himself to only some people and other parts to others wasn’t lying. It was self-preservation. Everyone had a persona of sorts, and he preferred for his to be intact. What was the point of showing everyone every side of him?
He knew who Childe and Tartaglia were. He knew who Ajax was. As long as he knew, he’d be alright.
Was it a lonely path? Maybe. But it paid well and made his family proud. What more could he ask for?
Acting may not be as cool as being, say, a toymaker as his younger brother would proclaim, but at least he got to travel the world and explore places he never could’ve before. And the cute fans of his were also a definite bonus.
Childe continued scrolling through his phone when he stumbled upon a tweet that seemed to be gaining numbers quickly. It was posted only a few hours ago last night (his time, at least) by what looked like a personal account.
@y/n: Y'ALL WTF my mom saw my lockscreen (which is a pic of childe) and told my grandma that he was my bf and then my gma got so excited she knit him a WHOLE SWEATER and told me to give it to him. how could i break her heart and tell her he’s just a celebrity i like omg
@y/n: here’s a picture of the sweater she knit. isn’t it adorable? i almost feel too bad to just wear it myself though hjfkhg [Attachment: 1 Image]
A surprised chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at the picture of you holding the cream-colored turtleneck up, the large sleeves covering most of your body in the photo. You were right. The sweater did look adorable. As did a certain little fan of his who was also featured in the image.
Without giving it a second thought, he began to type his reply.
@TartagliaOfficial: Why wear it yourself? Didn’t your grandma say it’s meant for me? :( It’d be a shame to disappoint her.
In only a matter of minutes, he refreshed the page and found your name in his notifications. For some reason, he felt a rush of adrenaline flow through his veins as he waited for your tweet to load.
@y/n: am i being punk’d or r u asking me out???
Childe laughed to himself, exiting the tweet thread so he could click on the private message icon on your profile.
This would be fun.
Pairing: Corpse Husband x fem!youtuber!reader
Collab with: @the-winter-sxldier-posts
Requested by: @unicornblood4ever
Request: Hi I just saw your request post for Corpse, so if you're still taking requests I have one. The reader have been on a losing streak, and Corpse tries to help. But accidentally rats himself out as the second imposter. With fluff if possible, of course only if you have time to write and everything.
Word Count: 3963
Warnings: a little angts and fluff, i guess?
Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also, I will not make anything to make Corpse uncomfortable, if he ends saying he doesn’t like fanfiction about him, I will delete this.
Part II: Here
Y/N sat down at her gaming setup, she was getting ready to start a stream she had been invited by her friend Felix (aka Pewdiepie) to play among us with him, and some other friends. She made sure everything was in order before starting it. She had been doing this for so long, but each time it felt like the first, and there was always that little chill in her belly indicating she was nervous.
She got onto her twitter quickly, just to let people know she was live in case they didn't get the notification about it. As people started coming in, Y/N smiled at the camera. “Hey guys, welcome to the stream.” She read one of the comments from chat asking what she was gonna be playing on stream today. “Today we are streaming some “Among Us’ with some friends, and I am getting to who they are before you guys spam it in chat. I’m going to be playing with Corpse, Sykkuno, Rae, Felix, Seán, Lily, Toast, Poki and Leslie.”
She joined the discord call, as the game loaded up. Y/N had her facecam in the middle on the bottom screen to make sure that she wouldn’t leak the code, once Felix sent it to the discord. Once the code was entered they were in the lobby and Y/N, went to the little mini computer in the game to customize her astronaut, and as always she was quick to pick the white colored one with the pink flower on her helmet.
“Hey guys.” Y/N said to her friends in discord with a smile.
Felix was the first to speak “Y/N finally you’re here!” She and everyone else laughed as he kept talking, excitedly. “We are still waiting for Corpse and Seán to join before we start, they’ll be here in a minute.”
Everyone had said their hellos to Y/N as Seán joined the discord call and the game, followed shortly by Corpse. “Hey, Seán, Corpse.”
“Whaddup baby.” They both said at the same time making everyone laugh once more, as they all had their characters customized.
Y/N’s face turned a few shades of red at what Corpse had said, and her chat was quick to pick up on it.
“That is everyone, we are starting the game now.” She muted her mic after Felix had started the game and the black screen with the red astronaut, said shhhhh. Then her screen read ‘Crewmate, there are 2 imposters among us.’
She blew out a breath talking to the chat. “At least we can warm up as a crewmate this round.”
It didn't take much longer for her to get killed, which made her swear. She knew she couldn't trust Felix but she did anyway, and he literally stabbed her in the back… What a traitor.
The time passed faster than it should have, or at least that’s what it seemed to the group of friends who were just having fun.
Y/N had now been streaming for an hour, and she was on a major losing streak. She either got crewmate, or voted out first as imposter because she was a bad liar. Or when that didn't happen, she was one of the first ones to be killed, and had to spend the entire game floating from one side of the ship to the other as a little white ghost, completing tasks for her team to win. To be honest, she was already a little irritated about that.
They were now in the lobby talking to each other while waiting to start the next game. Y/N's nostrils were flared with frustration after another round of failure at being an imposter. She sighed, unmuting her mic."I just wanted to say that in all of these rounds I must have played a full 8 seconds! Like come on, what's wrong with me today!?"
That phrase was enough to make the others burst out laughing, including her chat. The comments came and went so fast, sliding on the screen on her right side, that she could barely keep up.
Sykkuno, like the blessed and pure angel he was, replied amid laughter: "Don't worry, you're just on a bad streak. Better luck next time."
"Yeah, I guess." She answered while moving her mini white astronaut in circles, being quickly accompanied by the black astronaut with horns on his helmet. Y/N smiled at that.
"Stop talking guys, I'll start the new round now." Pewds, who was the host, almost screamed at them.
Y/N cracked her neck and her fingers preparing herself.
"Stay with me this time Y/N, and I'll protect you." A deep voice was heard through her headphones, causing a shiver to go all the way down her spine.
"Oh!" She exclaimed surprised, looking at her chat that was going insane with everyone saying how cute that was. "Thank you, Corpse, let's do that."
"No problem." She could hear the smile in his voice.
The game was started and the black screen with the red astronaut, said shhhhh. Then her screen read IMPOSTER.
Y/N quickly muted her mic, as soon as she stopped listening to her friends speak. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that." She commented to her chat, very surprised, because next to her doll was Corpse's own little character. "Well, maybe my luck is changing. Everyone heard that Corpse and I were going to be together, so at least now we have an alibi if anyone suspects us."
Corpse danced around Y/N, suggesting she follow him, and immediately she did. They both went through the ship as he was looking for innocent astronauts for them to murder. They ended up in medbay first, where Y/N faked her samples task, with Corpse watching over her and making sure that no one would find their behavior suspicious.
And, oh, how her luck seemed to have increased when Felix walked in. Y/N immediately pulled up the sabotage map and locked the medbay doors, and Corpse was quick to kill him. That made the girl laugh hard, yelling out loud. "That was just karma having its way!"
Then both vented out as the doors were still locked.
Y/N smiled talking to the chat. “Pewds is dead, next if the opportunity arises we need to get Seán. They are the two that always sus me out even when I’m a crewmate.”
She went back to the game as they vented into electrical, since nobody was there presently. They both faked tasks in electrical, Y/N going first with Corpse watching her back. To her surprise, Seán walked in all alone and right as she was going to get her first kill, when Felix’s body was reported.
She rolled her eyes. “Damn, so close to getting them both.” She said to her fans as she unmuted the mic, and saw that Rae was the one that found Pewds.
“Where is the body?” Y/N questioned trying to keep her voice level and calm, to not give herself away.
“Pewds is dead in medbay.” Was the answer she got from the other girl.
“Y/N and I were in Electrical with Seán.” Corpse said, trying to immediately shift suspicion off of the two of them.
“They were already there when I entered the room, however. I don't know where they came from before, though."
"We came in through storage, after Y/N and I both did the trash chute, Y/N stopped at the gas can and then we came to the electrical to do our tasks."
Y/N quickly muted herself. "God, Corpse is gonna carry us this round, I can already feel it…I just want one kill and that is Seán, Corpse can kill everyone else... I just want to kill Seán!" She unmuted again as the friends decided that they didn't have enough information to vote anyone, so they skipped and no one was ejected.
Corpse danced around again for Y/N to follow him and she did. This time they went through weapons. Y/N faked the task against the wall while Corpse faked one as well. Y/N brought up the sabotage map while they waited on the kill cool down to end.
Y/N sabotaged the lights, and the two imposters ran over there to turn them on as a way not to give anything that made them suspicious.
"Kill someone, don't wait for Corpse." Y/N read the comments, confused. "I don't know guys, are you sure? Today I haven't won any games as an imposter, so I don't want to give any reasons to make my team lose.” Looking back at the screen of the computer, she smiled seeing that the two little astronauts were touching each other, eye to eye, in what would probably be a strange little kiss. "Awww guys, look! Corpse just kissed me, this is too cute to handle."
But there was something that the fans did not fail to notice, and were quick to tell her that.
User: She's blushing!
User: This is so cute, I'm dying.
User: UGH, I ship them together so much!
"Oh, shut up y’all." She said with her face on fire, clearing her throat trying to make her voice normal again. However, the pink tone that painted her cheeks did not want to disappear, getting worse and worse as she thought about it. “Okay, as much as I don't like it, I'm going to do what you said. I’m sorry, Corpse." And then she quickly ran away, going to another path separated from Corpse, looking for someone alone that she could kill.
Hopefully it would be Seán.Y/n would be the first to agree that she was a little obsessed with getting her revenge. But could you blame her? Seán and Felix were almost always the reason she got voted out or killed first.
She went around the map, and on the navigation she found Lily alone. "Oh oh, poor Lily, but I need to do this." She was quick to press the button, kill and enter the vent, leaving Lily's body cut in half behind.
"Quickly, I need to find someone to be my alibi! Where's Corpse?" She came out of a different vent, running and seeing Rae nearby, quickly joining her. It didn't take long before someone reported the body. "Oh no, I'm sweating already."
“Lily’s body was in navigation.” Leslie said.
“And Toast is dead too, so it was a double kill this round.”
"Where have you been, Leslie?" Corpse asked with such a deep and calm voice that if Y/N were not the other imposter, she would think he was innocent. “I was with Sykkuno in security, looking at the cameras.”
“Yes, I was with him.” The mentioned boy said.
“Well, I was with Poki in medbay but I needed to do the asteroids in weapons. So, when I finished in weapons I went down, and found the body." Leslie replied.
"That seems a little sus to me, to be honest."
"Yeah, seems pretty sus to me too." Y/N repeated after Corpse, trying to help.
"Okay, wait a minute." Rae began, suspiciously. "I was with Y/N for a while because we met in storage, but she came from the right side of the map, I saw it."
"Explain yourself, Y/N."
'Oh no. Busted.' Thought the girl nervously looking at the camera. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and replied as calmly as she could: "Well, yes it's true, but I was in comms uploading. When I finished I left and that's when I found Rae in storage."
"It's her!" Seán accused.
"What!?" Y/N asked shocked. "No, I'm not the imposter guys, I swear!"
"Y/N, stop, it makes perfect sense. I'm voting." She rolled her eyes, that is exactly why she wanted to kill Seán.
It was then that Corpse interrupted: "It couldn't have been her, she was with me."
'What?' Y/N asked herself, 'No, I wasn’t. What is he doing?'
"But... You said you were with Sykkuno."
"I... Yeah, but before that I was with her in Comms, but I left to go to the Security."
"And what path did you take?" Rae questioned.
"I went through storage, then electrical and I went up."
"That’s impossible because I went down the left side, and went through electrical and I didn't see you."
"They’re both the imposters, oh my god." Was Seáns revelation.
"No, we are not. What he said is true!" Y/N tried to defend.
"I'm going to vote Corpse this time just for his audacity!" Rae exclaimed excitedly. "Then we vote for Y/N!"
"What!?" Corpse said shocked. "No...!"
But it was too late, and quickly his little bean body flew off the ship. ‘Corpse was ejected.’
The girl could do nothing more than gawk at the computer screen, still shocked by what had happened. "No!" She said when she muted the microphone. "The game is already lost. What can I do?" She questioned, guilty.
User: Noooo! Poor Corpse.
User: He was defending her :(
User: It's her fault that they found out he was the other imposter.
Guilt weighed on Y/N's heart and she felt saddened. Why did she have to ruin everything? "I know, I'll apologize to him when I can." She whispered to the chat, quietly, running around with her character confusedly. "What do I do now? Do I kill someone or do I play innocent?"
But at that time a meeting was called by Seán who was camped by the emergency button, and everyone got together to speak.
"Well, we already know who the other imposter is. Are we going to vote her out or not?" He said laughing.
"Guys, please don't, it’s not me."
"Sorry Y/N, but you're the only one sus right now."
"What about Leslie?” Y/N tried. “She left Poki in medbay, she could have gone to navigation, killed Lily, self-reported and said she was in weapons!"
"No, don't believe her!" Leslie shouted. “She’s lying.”
"I know it's Y/N, I'm going to vote for her!"
And one by one everyone voted, and the game was over.
"Good job guys, we did it." The others celebrated while the girl almost pouted.
"What happened, Corpse? I’ve never seen you like that, well, playing so badly I mean." Sykkuno questioned his friend timidly.
There was silence from Corpse for a moment, before he simply said. "I don’t know.”
Swallowing hard, Y/N spoke softly. "Corpse?"
"Ehh, don't be. That's alright."
But that was not enough to erase her guilt. "You know Seán this is exactly why I was gonna kill you in the electrical, before Rae found Felix's body. You always sus me out even when I’m innocent."
“But you were the imposter this time!”
After a new game where she quickly died (Seán was the one who broke her neck and left her body in admin), the girl was quick to open Discord and send a message to the deep-voiced boy, who as much - as she didn't want to admit it, even more to herself - was her crush.
I’m so sorry I got you voted out, honestly, I feel so bad about it. I’m such a bad imposter.
Y/N, It’s fine, really. There’s no need for you to feel bad about it ♥.
This put a smile on the girl's face again, and her chat was quick to question what was going on. She shrugged her shoulders and gave no further answer, Y/N returned to concentrating on the game, with the corner of her lips lifted in a half smile that she couldn’t control.
Time quickly passed full of fun for the ten friends, and the thousands of people who watched them. Y/N didn't win any of the rounds, but she didn't care about it anymore. After another hour of playing she decided to say goodbye and finish the stream, feeling the tiredness dominating her. She ate something and took a long and relaxing bath, which eased her aching muscles, and was already in her fluffy blue pajama pants, and was getting ready to go to bed when her phone rang.
Picking it up from the nightstand, she looked at the screen and gasped in surprise seeing who was facetiming her. A shiver ran down her spine. Shaking from head to toe, with her heart pounding, she quickly ran her hand through her hair making sure she was at least minimally presentable, before she answered it, saying nervously, "Hey, Corpse, is everything okay?"
The screen came to life, with her tiny image in the corner and the completely black screen dominating it. Of course he wouldn't turn on the camera, nor did she want him to do it if he didn't feel comfortable. It was already surprising that he actually called, since he has never done that before, and that was what made her even more nervous.
"I just wanted to check on you." His voice came through the phone.
That made her face heat up a little. She was thankful that the only light she had on was the lamp on her nightstand and he couldn’t see how red her face got.
"Cute pajamas by the way." He said while laughing a little bit, provoking her.
"Well, I would say the same thing, but I can't see anything." Y/N provoked back.
There was a comfortable silence after that, a silence that the two of them seemed afraid to try to break. The girl laid down on her bed, curled up under her warm sheets, and looked at the black screen kindly, with her head resting on the pillow.
"I-" They both said at the same time, and immediately stopped talking when they realized that.
“You first-” they once again said at the exact same time.
Y/N tried to speak. She really tried. She was so prepared to tell him the truth, to tell him how much she was into him, that she was in fact in love with him… She was prepared to say that meeting him, and having him in her life for the past few months was one of the best things that ever happened to her. Y/N was determined to speak, but when she tried, nothing came out. She stood there, opening and closing her mouth, sighing with a frown on her face.
"What's up?" Corpse asked seeing that, with concern in his voice.
"Y/N, you know you can tell me anything."
"I know that." And she really did, Corpse was a good friend, an excellent friend who was always there for her... And that was exactly what she was afraid to ruin with her confession. "You are able to make me so nervous sometimes, even when I think I'm feeling brave."
"Oh, yeah?" He asked, and she could practically see his smile, even though she has never actually seen it. She was in love with a faceless man and she had no idea how to tell him that.
"Oh, shut up."
He laughed deeply for a long time, and that was enough to make her smile. Finally he stopped and said quietly, almost timidly. "I think what you wanted to say is exactly what I want to tell you."
Impossible, Y/N thought with a sad smile on her lips. I want to tell you how much I love you but… how could I? And who could ever love me?
"No, believe me, it isn't."
“And how do you know it isn’t?”
Y/N bit her lip a little unsure of how to answer him without revealing her feelings for him. “I-” But she cuts herself off, not having the courage to actually say the words. She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle the groan that came out of her mouth, at how much a coward she was being, but she mumbled out her response that was still muffled. “I just know.”
“What was that?” All he had heard were incoherent sounds..
She sighed, removing her face from the pillow not wanting to repeat what she had said, to save herself the rejection, since he couldn’t possibly feel the same way that she did about him.
“Are you really not going to tell me?” His voice broke through her thoughts. She sighed, trying to get away from the internal battle going on in her mind. “Y/N?” He spoke once again, breaking her out of her thoughts.
“If I say it... everything is gonna be ruined and weird for us, and I don’t want that. Your friendship is so important to me, you're my best friend.” She ran a hand down her face, furious with herself.
“How do you know that, if you don’t say it?”
“Because I just do, okay?” Why couldn't he just let it go? "I-" She tried to say it out loud, once more. C'mon Y/N, just say it. "I gotta go!" She said quickly tried to end the call, but he wouldn't let her.
"No!" He screamed out sharply, taking her by surprise and then he did something she never thought he would do.
The screen, which was previously completely dark, lit up and his face finally appeared for the girl who loved him to see. Y/N sighed in shock, admiring all his features, from his ivory-white skin to his dark curly hair.
"I have a crush on you too." He confessed quietly, with a soft pink tinge appearing on his cheeks.
Did he just...? Oh my god!
There was silence again, but this time it was a silence that had become tense and terrifying for both of them. Corpse was nervous waiting for her to say something, and she could tell. His mouth was pressed in a thin line, he didn't seem able to face her as his gaze traveled anywhere but to her, and he fidgeted immensely, touching everything within reach from the rings - that she saw he had on his fingers - to the chain necklace he had around his neck.
"Oh." She sighed softly, not knowing what to say.
He looked at her then, apprehensive and almost ashamed. "Ugly, I know."
"No!" Y/N was quick to interrupt. "You are incredibly handsome just… just as I always imagined." The girl managed to see a small smile appear on his lips as he blushed deeply.
"I’m in love with you too." She confessed, finally without fear. It felt like weight lifted off her to finally get it out in the open between the two of them.
Corpse’s eyes went wide, completely shocked but so, so happy. A huge smile full of shiny teeth on his face, as he focused all of his attention on Y/N. "You are?"
"Yes." She said blushing and smiling intensely as she snuggled up in the blankets, her face almost hidden when she looked at him dreamily.
"I-" He cleared his throat. "Good."
They burst out laughing, their voices mixing in hamornia. The two looked each other in the eye, separated by a mobile phone screen, separated by kilometers and kilometers... but even with everything that separated them, the world was not able to stop them from falling in love with each other.
"What do we do now?" He questioned.
"Well..." Y/N started. "We'll have to see, won't we? Why don't you start by giving me your address?"
Corpse smiled provocatively, his beautiful eyes shining maliciously. "Of course... But be careful now baby, the devil’s got his eyes on you."
Y/N laughed completely in love.
"Oh, shut up."
Tag List: @breathygasps
Mass Effect Trailer Thoughts
*EDIT* -- there are now TWO UPDATES to this post with additional screenshots, thoughts and theories, please check that one out! :)
I wrote an unhinged disorganized post before... now I’ll attempt breaking things down in a much more logical way. :D
1) It’s basically confirmed that this is both the Milky Way and Andromeda in the same shot.
2) The audio is some actual and I think some fictional mix of communications --
“We know now that in the early years of the 20th century, this world was being watched” is from War of the Worlds
“Eagle Houston, you are go for landing, over” is from the moon landing.
“Arcturus Station, uknown vessel approaching, we need first contact protocols” would probably be new dialog from the First Contact War.
“Humanity now stands as partners in the galaxy” is likely new dialog from after the end of the FC war when humanity was accepted as a Citadel species.
“Ark Six is away, godspeed” is new dialog, likely a reference to the Andromeda Initiative. There were six arks in the initiative.
3) This system isn’t in any of the first three games as far as I can tell -- and I logged into ME3 with the EGM mod wherein literally every system in all three games is used as extra content and looked at them all. Anyone recognize it?
4) This is anyone’s guess but... possibly... what’s through the Omega relay? the rings seem... very densely packed.
5)Two moons and a gas giant looking planet. I don’t even want to hazard a guess. The planet itself could look like Jupiter, but Jupiter has a lot more moons.
6) Then of course, we have the destroyed mass relay.
This comes with the dialog about taking down a dreadnaught, and (sensors?) are going crazy, and abandoning the ship, and then the REAPER SOUND.
Then “Is anyone receiving this? We’ve lost contact.”
So all of this felt like traveling through time, and here we finish Mass Effect 3.
7) Then comes this image... which again, does not really look like any system recognizable in any of the games.
An indistinguishable female voice says something about Humanity (something like “Humanity is all the problems its faced”? Maybe?) and a male voice... which sounds a little like Clancy Brown (Alec Ryder) to me, but... maybe I need to play through the Andromeda prologue again.
The slight break in the action there may be accounting for the 600 years passing before Andromeda.
The break in the action could also mean it’s something in the future of what we’ve seen, something new.
8) Now, we come to this planet.
There are THREE MOONS... and Alchera has three moons. Maybe this is a coincidence. Or maybe this is Alchera. It seems oddly specific for them to show the three moons in sequence if there wasn’t a reason for it.
9) It’s confirmed that Liara is walking up a reaper here. There ALSO appears to be a SECOND reaper in the background (look just above the sun, you can see reaper-like wires and follow that outline to see the other reaper’s legs.)
10) There appears to be more stuff, maybe N7 striped stuff, than just the fragment Liara picks up buried in the snow here.
11) This may be a part of an N7 helmet, but it can’t be Shepard’s N7 helmet.
You get the helmet as a reward for finishing the Alchera DLC in ME2 (so basically, Shepard brings it along after planting the monument), and although the part is similar on the side here, it’s definitely not the same. This is Shepard’s helmet on the SR-2 in ME2, loaded it up and took the pics with flycam just to confirm.
14) That’s definitely a Salarian on the left and probably a Krogan on the right. Guesses for the center person... Human? Turian? Angaran? (Comedy answer: Javik? Though we don’t know how long Protheans lifespans are so... hey! Anything’s possible!)
13) Liara has crow’s feet and laugh lines -- she’s most likely much older in this trailer than we saw her last in ME3. Perhaps... 600 - 700 years older? Grunt would likely be the only other ME/2/3 companion still alive. (Wrex was alive to fight in the end of the Krogan Rebellion in 700 CE, if this is post-Andromeda that would place him at over 2000 years old, I don’t think Krogan lifespans are that long. Drack is considered an old man at 1400. But it could be possible.)
So my best theory right now aligns with what I’ve seen other people guess -- this game will take place sometime after Andromeda and serve to bridge the two galaxies, but how that happens and why Liara is retrieving a piece of broken N7 armor is anyone’s guess. I have a few wildly unhinged theories myself. :D
⇢ meeting two
jeon jungkook x (f) reader
⇢ series masterlist
summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.
genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba)
warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good
ratings: e for everyone <3
notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎
Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.
By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates.
That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens.
You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class.
Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him.
Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all.
You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly.
Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months.
Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.
Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got.
Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career.
The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course.
“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.”
Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you.
Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen.
The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12
You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.)
You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side.
Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly.
It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil.
Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”
Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester.
Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness.
His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you.
Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face.
“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!”
It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things.
One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—
—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone.
Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought.
It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you.
“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news.
“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”
So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward.
With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason.
He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—
You quickly look away.
Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom.
Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same.
Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—
A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed.
It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile.
Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.”
At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“
“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck.
He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot.
(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)
“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”
At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi.
“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.”
Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.
A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face.
It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments.
Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.”
Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.”
“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”
Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”
Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character.
Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester.
You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”
On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”
You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile. He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.”
Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?”
You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh.
This man was dangerous for your heart.
After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.”
Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—
“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you.
“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well.
You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook.
“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”
Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.
Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
Hey hi, I saw your post on confidence. Can I ask you to please give like solid tips or bullet point to-do things for faking confidence, like small things that sort of change the game.
I'm really introverted and don't make friends easily, on top of it I have anger issues and tend to lash out quickly, and I've been bullied for my looks and for being from a poor background and hence being less exposed to "cool" things in my early life and that's really taken a toll on my self esteem. I'm 30 now and I feel I'm going to end up being a loser my whole life if I don't get a grip now. Any advice will be helpful 🙏.
For sure! There's loads of ways to project an image of confidence, but here are a handful (that i typed out super quick before running off to get ready for work lol)
Project your voice. Dont mumble. Ever. You got something to say? Say it loudly, and clearly. I had a theatre director tell me once, "imagine my deaf grandmother is sitting in the very back row of the theatre. Speak loud enough that she can hear you." You can google tips on how to project your voice. If you like, you can practice on people youre not likely to see again or often, like cashiers or people taking your coffee order or whatever. Or tell a loved one, "hey, I'm trying to get in the habit of speaking clearly; can you tell me if I mumble?"
Check out your posture in a mirror. Do you hunch? Stand or walk with your shoulders curved in or your head curved down? Straighten your spine, pull your shoulder blades together, and lift your chin. Google good posture so you have a reference, and practice it in the mirror, and then do it as often as you remember. It won't be an overnight correction - if you've been practising poor posture for years, it will take time to correct - but if you make a concious effort to remember, and correct your posture every time you think of it, you'll get there in the end.
Strut. Going somewhere? Don't shuffle. Don't drag your feet. Dont try to take up as little space as possible. Strut. Also. Stop moving out of the way of other people when you're walking. Walk as though you expect them to move out of your way. (Exceptions made, of course, for pregnant people or disabled people or elderly, etc). Me learning to stop accommodating literally every person on the street was a turning point. Like. I am in fact allowed to walk in a straight line, and am not required to zig zag all over the place as I navigate the other pedestrians. In all my time of doing this, I've only had like 2 people collide with me, and they were both arrogant-looking men. Most people subconsciously note your "I'm not swerving; you swerve" attitude and they will swerve to avoid a collision.
Dont put yourself down. Ever. Just stop that. If you wouldn't stand for someone saying something like that to your loved one, then why do you allow you to say it to yourself? Cut it out. Trade the putdowns and insults for praise. Even for mundane shit. "Hot damn, this is the best coffee I've ever made me. Starbucks eat your heart out." "We ars looking CUTE today, look at that outfit!!" "No offence to chefs everywhere but literally no one makes [food] as well as I do." Etc. Stop insulting yourself or running yourself down. Start praising yourself for everything from little inconsequential things to the big important things.
Dont advertise your mistakes. I'm not saying "don't fess up if you leave a pair of scissors inside a person after doing surgery on them," I'm saying, people do minor errors all the time, and no one usually notices. If you make a minor error and you point it out, then youre making sure that everyone knows about it, and thats not necessary. If you make a minor error and you just quietly say to yourself oops, and then quietly fix it or move on, then no one else will notice. Stuff like "i made this art - couldn't get his arm right though" or "i made these cookies - I overcooked them a tiny bit though." No one will notice those minor things unless you point it out. So don't!!
Be proud of your interests and hobbies. YES even the cringe ones. "I know its super cringe but I just love it." Stand by your interests, don't belittle them or be ashamed/embarrassed about them.
Like yourself. If there are things you don't like about yourself, change them. And I don't mean appearance; fuck appearance. If you disliked someone else because of their appearance, you'd be shallow, but somehow we class disliking ourselves due to our appearance as something different? No. I mean if there are behaviours or etc about yourself that you dont like, then change them, until you're the person you want to be, and can like. If other people don't like you, that's a them problem. If you like you, then other people liking you is just a bonus. Someone doesn't like you? Who cares. If they don't like you, they're probably not the sort of person you want in your life anyway. Find people who do like you, and cultivate those relationships. But start with trying to like yourself. Thats always a huge step towards confidence.
Ok omg I'm risking lateness here, I gotta go -- hopefully these help!! And remember, they're all habits; you won't flip a switch and be amazing at upholding all this in an instant. But start to practice these and other confidence things, and keep practising them, and you'll get better and better at it.
[Image Description: An Undertale chat box that has “WHY FANS LOVE UNDERTALE” at its center. Next to it are a line chart and an Egg from the Dating Hub on its left, and a CRIME measurer (also from the Dating Hub) on its right. End I.D.]
[Image Description: a pie chart titled, “LEVEL OF LOVE FOR UNDERTALE.” The textbox on the top right reads, “On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the least and 10 being the highest, how much do fans enjoy Undertale?” From the top going clockwise, 12 or 0% chose 5 and below; 23 or 1% chose 6; 98, or 4%, chose 7; 325, or 12%, chose 8; 529, or 20%, chose 9; and 1664, or 63%, chose 10. End I.D.]
It’s clear from all of the data analyzed so far that fans who took the time to answer our survey love Undertale. It is unlikely that they would have taken the time to answer so many questions if they had not, and even less likely that they would have come across our survey in the first place. Naturally, it comes as no surprise that 63% of our responders gave their love for Undertale a score of ten out of ten. 95% gave their love for Undertale a score of eight or higher, and only 12 responders responded with five or below, a number so small that their responses had to be lumped together to be visible on the pie chart. Of those, only 3 responders gave their love for Undertale a score of 1, and based on those responders’ other answers, it is likely that they were only intending to troll. We are very fortunate that the vast majority of responders took the survey seriously, enough so that responses like this are barely a blip in the data.
Now, for our final analysis post of the event, we will delve into the reasons that fans love Undertale so dearly.
(Essay and highlights under the cut.)
There have been countless essays on the impact that Undertale has had on people’s lives. I can hardly add more on the subject than what has already been said, but I hope this summary can provide a brief overview of what stood out among the over two thousand answers given in response to this survey. That said, due to the sheer volume of answers, I could not read every single one in depth—however, I did skim all of them, and some that stood out or were representative of several responses have been highlighted below. If you would like to see what every fan who consented to share their response had to say, you may view the full list of responses here. Note that these responses have not been edited in any way. This document may take a long time to load, as it is over 100 pages long.
(Warnings for mentions of suicidal thoughts in the following essay.)
Several responders loved the theme of choices mattering in Undertale. Whether people played the pacifist, merciless, or neutral routes, they enjoyed how the game reacted to their actions. For some, it even made them consider their own morality. One touching response explained the impact that the theme of mercy made on them. “I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.” Many fans left similar comments about how the themes of Undertale made them better people.
Undertale changed how its fans treat others, and it also changed how fans treat themselves. The theme of staying determined and the messages of hope in the game were a light to a very large portion of fans. I cannot list all of the fans who said that Undertale helped them out of a dark place, or that they would not be alive if not for Undertale. “DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.”
Undertale brought fans together in unexpected ways. Some said they met friends or significant others through the fandom. “I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale,” one fan said. A different fan who is non-native English speaking mentioned that the game and the fan community helped them to learn English.
It would be impossible to discuss Undertale without mentioning the fan community. Whether for good or bad, many responders mentioned the fandom in their responses. Overall the feelings towards the fandom seem positive, though many made references to “toxic” parts of the fandom without specifying which parts they consider toxic. Others rejected the idea of toxicity in fandom. One response said: “[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!”
One thing that makes the Undertale fandom unique is the way it embraces various AUs. Some fans are tired of AU content, but the majority of responses show a love for the creativity behind AUs. “Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.” The lack of a judgemental atmosphere seems present in the AU community, according to the responses we saw. There is an interesting balance between AU and canon (sometimes referred to as “classic”) content that another responder pointed out: “The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertale fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)”
Regardless of the many AUs the fandom has created over the years, the original game of Undertale still feels like home for many fans. They wished they could reclaim the feeling of playing the game again for the first time, but even though we can’t reset time in real life, there is still a special feeling for fans each time they play Undertale. One fan said, “Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.” This feeling is one that can be cherished time and time again. In the words of another responder: “It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it.” Others pointed out the strength of the found family trope in Undertale, which likely contributes to this feeling of “home” as well.
As mentioned briefly earlier, the music is part of what makes Undertale feel like home for fans. Even when responses focused on other aspects of the game, many would throw in a comment about the soundtrack at the end. One comment focused on the music said “IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.” Like with the game itself, the music has incredible replay value, an amazing feat considering most of the tracks use the same few motifs. “I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story,” another responder said. “They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.”
If the music sticks with fans in their hearts, then the game’s lore sticks with fans in their minds. Even six years after the release of Undertale, fans are still creating new theories and digging up new secrets. The way the game breaks the fourth wall in particular intrigued many fans and has stuck out through all these years. The awareness that the game shows for the RPG genre makes it memorable. The game plays with the player’s expectations and turns them on their heads, all while reminding the player that they’re in a game. There are few other games that do this on such a large scale, so it’s no surprise that fans cite this as one of their favorite things about Undertale.
Lastly, the LGBT+ representation in Undertale has been a huge draw for fans. Especially in 2015, the sheer volume of non-cishet characters was unprecedented, as one fan pointed out: “It's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. Hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. It's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.” The LGBT+ cast including Frisk, Chara, Napstablook, Monster Kid, Mettaton, Alphys, and Undyne each connected with fans in unique ways. It’s clear how important this is from responses such as: “There are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.” “It made me gay and trans so thanks for that.”
Once again I am overwhelmed with just how much there is to say about Undertale. One responder really understood when they compared Undertale to an iceberg, explaining that there are so many layers to the game that there is something for everyone: “everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans—from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers—is the mark of the coolest games!” I would have to agree with them.
It’s been six years, and despite everything, it’s still you. Thank you for reading, participating in this survey, and above all, staying determined.
DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.
I think the coolest thing was having the opportunity to watch the AU community grow from its bare roots. It's nearly insane how big and complex it's gotten, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.
i love how the lgbt rep is so naturalized... there are just gay people! and its nobodys business!
The music is my go to answer, but what I really really REALLY love is how the minor characters have so much personality to them when you talk to them. They aren't incredibly important to the overall story, but they're all so likeable and diverse that you just can't help but like them immediately!
I think it was the first videogame I have played that broke the fourth wall that much. Of course there has been other videogames that broke it but just for one or two tongue-in-cheek jokes. The guilt of killing mama goat was also something intense as well that I appreciated as an experience and that I didn't think a videogame could cause on someone.
I love how no character can be seen as completely bad! Everyone builds up Asgore as some horrible villain, but he turns out to be a 'fuzzy pushover' who's broken and just wants his family back by the time you meet him. Then you think Flowey's an irredeemable killer who engineered the suffering of the monsters across many timelines, and he is... but he also used to be the kind and beloved Prince Asriel Dreemurr, traumatized by his death and subsequent rebirth, projecting his best friend onto you.
The fact that choices matter in the game. Your first playthrough and getting the golden ending for the first time. I can never replicate those feelings again, wish I could erase my memories and replay the game from the start.
I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale.
(Toxic parts of the fandom aside) The community is possibly one of the kindest I've ever met. Cringe culture is completely dead, and I feel like I can be myself. I felt a very close connection to many of the characters, and I loved consuming content about them when I was in a rough patch in my life.
just everything, the whole game has just impacted my life so much. i know it sounds really lame, but when the game first came out, i would purposely put my hands in my pockets and sway slightly, like sans' idle animation. of course i dont do that anymore haha, but undertale still really impacts me to this day, and i wouldnt have it any other way :)
it made me gay and trans so thanks for that
I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.
The thing I love most about Undertale is no matter how many times I play or watch a playthrough it always makes me genuinely happy. It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it. Toriel still makes me feel all warm and cozy in her home, the Skelebros always make me laugh, and I still cry on the inside watching Frisk comforting Asriel. And on the flip side the No Mercy run still invokes the negative emotions in me as well. In short Undertale just feels like a second home to me and I always wish I could stay.
The reader inserts are my favorite way to decompress after a hard day
I think Undertale helped me discover my love for 8-bit games, and made me realize how IMPORTANT music is in video games.
the worldbuilding and character design are my favorite parts of the main game apart from the music! I’m also a huge fan of the random AU music- not for like underswap or underfell i like the stuff where someone makes a megalovania for a random au where gru from despicable me replaces sans as the character. i think its funny
Just... the vibe, honestly? Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.
there are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.
[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!
There's a scene where Frisk (the player) is going towards what is presumably going to be their death. They will fight Asgore and he will use their human soul to break the barrier and free his people. The music, despite the player's impending doom, is... triumphant. You are not the triumphant one here, and yet, the score invites you to experience the monsters' joy and happiness as they tell you the tale of their subjugation. The monsters are going to be free. This is their victory, but they don't hate you or want you to die. They're just... happy. That scene has always struck me very deeply. I feel it represents the best parts of Undertale.
I loved how well thought out the Geno route was. It really made me feel like I was doing something horrible, and the characters were very obviously reacting to dire circumstances.
I dunno? I like Undertale for it's characters, story, music, secrets and many more. I am not good with Headcanons but I also like the neutral endings and how different they can depending on who you spare and kill
I was very bad at english before, i thought i couldn't progress because i was very shy and not confident. But my sibling and i wanted to have the best experience with this game so we wanted to play it in english. It's this game and the fandom which helped me to make huge progress in english !
THE SOUNDTRACK. IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.
to avoid writing an essay i will say one word. Mettaton
It is like Toby specifically made the games to fit the iceberg meme and it's awesome, everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans - from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers is the mark of the coolest games!
I love almost everything about Undertale as a game on its own. The music, the art and especially the characters and how they interact. They made me feel at home. Undertale means a huge amount to me. (I even got a tattoo of the castle when you and MK walk together!) The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertake fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)
the mystery. toby fox refused to give answers to anything and i think thats very sexy of him.
I just feel guilty for liking it so much when I'm in my 30's. But I recently got diagnosed with ASD, so I guess it explains things a bit. Many ppl consider Papyrus to be neurodivergent, and some adult fans are too, so seeing that makes me feel a bit better.
i think about "Despite everything, it's still you" everyday of my life.
I like how it's just as funny as it can be serious. All routes are this way. I laughed as much as I cried when I played the Pacifist route and then once I opened the game again and Flowey was telling me to let them be happy, I immediately turned off the game. I somehow felt bad.
The Found Family Trope
The True Pacifist Ending is just...man. And the fanworks about saving everyone even when the game doesn't let you? MANNNNNN
I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story. They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.
there's honestly a LOT to love about this game, but i think one of my favorite things about it is just how many lgbt+ characters there are??? i can think of alphys, undyne, frisk, chara, mettaton, napstablook, monster kid, asgore, mad mew mew, the dress lion, the royal guards, and arguably even papyrus off of the top of my head, but im sure i'm forgetting a few from just undertale alone (there's even MORE in deltarune)!! it's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. it's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.
[Image description: A wordcloud in the shape of the capitalized word UNDERTALE. The text is white on a black background, and uses the font found in the game. Some of the most visible words are: Game, Love, Music, Life, AU, Store, Friend, and Feel, which represent the most common words in the essays people wrote about their love for the game. End of ID]
A tale of two blogs
Taking part in the trope tussle on the side of enemies to lovers. Prepare for an interesting week. I still don't have enough time to think about the enemies part so enjoy this more friendly fire timinette. Word count 2,522
Marinette stared at the post that she had been tagged in due to a follower of her account. Marinette posted stuff to Tumblr. It was nice and simple and she didn't have to worry about if Lila found the account cause it was all anonymous. So long as they were designs that were t tied back to Marinette it was fine. Her favourite posts to put up featured her drawing a basic design on a figure, cutting the item desired out and then holding it up to something. She had done sunset dresses, surf based shirts, a carousel skirt, a bunch of floral items, and they were among her most popular posts.
Her favourite though, was still the cactus pants. But this post....this post...
Well, it wasn't her post but it was her fun design of a fruit scarf that then had been added to another photo, with words depicting hers to be the joke.
In other words, someone had taken her design, and turned it into a meme. She glared at the original poster, someone who didn't even ask her if they could use her stuff, let alone credit her for her stuff!
Marinette went into the ask box, and wrote quickly and professionally. God damn it, if you wanted to use her stuff, where was the sensible behaviour that she wanted.
As soon as she hit enter she felt dread fill her bones. This may not go well.
Tim had a fine week. Not amazing because of the meetings Bruce skipped out on, so he had to attend and then the people were annoying, but it was fine. He had proceeded to get rid of frustrations with creating memes on his Tumblr account. It was a fine way to waste time and relax. He was going through his notifications that seemed to blow up. He was use to some attention, he cultivated a following and good content that to have an influx of notifications was normal.
This however seemed to be over the top. He looked at his ask box that seemed to be full and found a lot of comments calling him out...on something about property theft.
Finally, he found the one that seemed to start all this mess. He raised an eyebrow at it that continued to climb higher the further he read.
"It has been brought to my attention you used a post of mine for a meme, and along with this reposting, you gave no credit to me which I am highly against.
Please rectify this at your first opportunity, and note that if you want to use my stuff, ask first.
Here is a link to my post of your meme to show proof it is mine.
This was...not something he had occur before. Sure, some people didn't like his material, but that didn't mean much for him to just shrug it off. He followed the link and once it loaded he understood. He remembered that meme. He had been annoyed over his brother Dick's latest fashion choices with a scarf that looked like a fruit salad and had made a quick short meme about it. He guessed he could understand her annoyance, but he really just needed such a photo, found it with a Google images search and then hadn't been able to track the owner down it seemed to be spread far around.
He tapped back into the ask and formulated a reply.
"I am sorry for the use without permission, I will go and correct the post, with a tag and link to your original work." That should work. He posted the ask and went about his business as normal, correcting the post, reblogging it as a way with the correct information to ensure that Designiseverywhere got the recognition they deserved. That should be the end of it.
Marinette stared at the screen. Since her ask had been answered, it seemed a full on war had broken out, both in comments left in her ask box, on her post, and on some of his stuff.
Her followers at least were standing in support of her, crying out that she didn't do anything wrong just request that he give credit where credit was due. But they seemed to be drowned out by others yelling at her for attacking the meme king? Saying that when stuff is put online it is no longer in her control, and she shouldn't have shamed him so much.
But his response to her ask. Was sooo, coldly professional. Its Tumblr! She expected some meme, or something, and it seemed that now with her name coming under hell fire she needed to do something. But because she couldn't leave a message to him in a direct message, she would have to tag him or send him another ask. One that he could delete if he chose to.
Marinette decided on a public post and to tag him.
But she would certainly be a lot more calm and kind because he did the right thing, but he should tell his followers off.
Marinette considered it all and started to write.
Tim was scrolling as he was having breakfast. He had been glad to not be drinking coffee when he saw his notifications were over 100 again. He nearly choked on his toast as it was. Honestly, what happened this time?
He scrolled in confusion as he had been tagged in multiple posts, things reblogged with some tags of "meme king is best" and it was just....weird...
Finally, finally, he found what must have started it off.
Designiseverywhere had tagged him. He looked at the post.
"Hey, I'm doing a public announcement. I don't see how exactly I'm being pinned a bad guy, but you do know that neither of us are to blame right? Skat3r (tagging here) is totally a nice person who at least admitted he used my work without my permission and corrected the mistake. I thought it was done. But to have you guys think that I've caused him harm? Is over the top dramatic and you should all stop."
Tim snorted and looked through the comments on her post. He winced as he realised she wasn't wrong even here they were calling her out.
A singular comment caught his eye.
"You didn't even thank or acknowledge that it was solved so he still was getting attacked because of it!" It was a silly comment, but due to how professionally they carried themselves it seemed like something that should happen. And they could have been ruder, so he didn't get this.
He decided to reblog this post anyway.
"I'm sorry to hear this has occured, and I thought better of the people who follow me. I was in the wrong. I've fixed the issue. Sure, I would think a thanks would be nice, and the whole thing then put to rest, not for either of us to then be attacked, and both lots of followers here are in the wrong because Design here was already working to solve the solution when I was attacked. Cyberbullying is a crime, and you all need to stop." He added a few tags and rolled his eyes as he hit post. Honestly, this was a weird thing that he should not have been dragged into in the first place. He quickly saw notifications going off again and looked, people praising his response, or attacking him. This was weird. People online are weird.
Still, if Design put anything else out, it would be good to know. He clicked follow.
Marinette could barely understand people when she was awake and hadn't been up late because of an Akuma.
Apparently she was now the head figure of an online war with artists lobbying behind her over the issues of reposting and no credits to the creator. Others behind this other Tumblr blog owner crying that they should be privileged to have their content used and appreciated by others.
She clicked onto his account and was surprised to see he was following her. Well, maybe they could figure this out in private instead.
She clicked follow and proceeded to write a private message. Maybe the pair of then could figure something out.
She paused in thought before typing out a simple hello. She blinked when the reply came through in seconds though she thought he hadn't been online. They followed up with another quick message.
"So we apparently started a war, and according to the followers, you and I are enemies. Any chance you want to relinquish victory to me?" Marinette grinned.
"Ha. Not a chance. I tried to before and all it did was result in me getting attacked. You try."
"Surely you can not be serious. My followers led the charge without my say so. I had nothing to do with it."
Marinette grinned as the pair continued to converse, trying to figure the issue out though they seemed to work out that there was little they could do besides waiting for the storm to ride out.
Still Marinette couldn't help feel disappointed when she put her phone down to focus on class.
Tim's phone in his pocket buzzed and he pulled it out to a message from a familiar account on Tumblr. There was a long line of what he came to understand was a groan from the mutual.
He entered the app and held back a snicker.
Apparently, their little feuding followers were still going strong, and it had been 2 weeks. It had expanded past their behaviours to an argument on correct internet manners.
One that he apparently was winning because while Design did raise the issue she apparently didn't condemn cyberbullying, which was wrong. And Designs was complaining to him about their nonsense.
"To be fair, as a creator of memes, this is hilarious."
"No it's not! I want this over and done with!"
"I don't think that's going to happen. It's been two weeks and they are still going. No wonder Tumblr is labelled as both cringe and toxic."
"Not everyone is toxic!"
"You're right, you have been a beam of sunshine in the darkness of this place."
Designs seemed to suddenly vanish and stop replying. Tim was disappointed, wondering what could have dragged them away when the typing bubbles appeared. And disappeared. And repeat. Tim raised an eyebrow.
"What can we do to stop them?"
"Idk what you think can be done, but we could try another joint call out post at them, and go from there."
"Let's." Tim thought of how to start the post instantly.
Unlike Designs wishes, it didn't help. Tim's next message to them several days later was a screenshot of the current top tags on Tumblr. They were 8th. He got a laugh out of all the swearing emojis design sent in reply.
Marinette grinned as she heard a distinct notification from her phone, quickly grabbing it. It had been 2 months since the weird start of the mutual knowing one another with her online friend who she now knew to be called Tim. After several days of messaging trying to get their followers to listen to reason, that if there was any hatred it was over with as soon as the first apologies were given, and that they weren't enemies, they actually had gotten to know one another a little. And exchanged some other social media platforms, still mostly anonymous because Marinette wasn't going to be catfished, scammed or reveal too much about herself online. Her grandmother had given her nightmares as a kid with scary real life stories from her travels that "do not trust someone you haven't met" had been drilled into her hard from a young age.
Tim seemed to be fine with this decision, even encouraged it.
Her heart froze though when she got an inquiry email to her MDC designs business from Tim Drake Wayne and the same face was on her video call to him as she had seen in Snapchat photos.
It was...a weird experience to say the least. The pair instantly clicked and chattered beyond designs, business and daily life. It was nice to have a face to the friend she had for a few months. They could talk to one another in a multitude of ways now, and it seemed barely a day passed without them communicating in some form.
Tim was a little anxious. He was a little unsure. To be fair, he was intending to tell Marinette something. For all their friendship, he liked her. Somewhere in the months he actually developed a crush on her. Marinette was fun, creative, stubborn and really nice.
It was a matter of when she gave him the inspiration to get back at his brothers with a prank that he also saw how ruthless she could be that was definitely the tipping point.
Today, he planned to confess. He wasn't sure how well it would go, but he was a vigilante, he regularly got in the line of fire, telling the girl he has a crush on his emotions was simple compared to all of that.
Why were his palms sweaty again?
Tim rubbed his jeans as Marinette picked up his call.
"Bonjour Tim." She greeted cheerfully, her smile looked a little wide and frantic, but Tim didn't notice. After all, whatever it was couldn't have anything to do with him.
"Hey Marinette. What's happening?"
She started to babble on about her designs and her classes, and Tim nodded along, commenting when appropriate, watching as her unease slid off her face and out of her shoulders, and her spark returned as she gestured and explained away. Tim slowly stopped listening only to focus on her image. Right, he needed to say it.
"Tim? You okay?"
"I have a crush on you." Marinette blinked after he rushed through his confession. Her mouth hung agape as she just stared at him. Tim fought the urge to fidget as she openly stared.
"Marinette? Please say something." She shook her head.
"You have a crush on me?" She asked. Tim nodded. "Seriously?" Tim nodded again. "Oh."
Tim braced himself for the rejection.
"Well that ruins everything." Tim winced, he had been hopeful that it wouldn't change much if she didn't like him. "I was hoping to ask you out when my class turned up in Gotham." Tim stared at her as her cheeks turned red. Wait, she was...
"You're coming to Gotham?" Marinette nodded.
"It was going to be a surprise."
"And you were going to ask me out?"
"You beat me to the punch!"
"So you also like me too?"
"Huh. Well that was emotional whiplash. I thought you were going to say no."
"That wasn't a possibility." Marinette grinned. Tim grinned back.
"Wait, can I call you my girlfriend online?"
"Yeah? But why is that a concern?"
"Well, while the fight has all but been forgotten-"
"I know you still have people coming to you for supposedly bullying me,"
"And now I can tell them to back off from my girlfriend." Tim grinned. Marinette sighed.
"Of course even if I tell you not to, you're going to do it." Tim smirked, that was answer enough. "Fine."
Their notifications exploded with Tim's announcement that Marinette reblogged. However instead of bullying tactics by people it seemed centred around a small group who were cheering, congratulating them and tagging the post as Enemies to Lovers win!
Marinette didn't even bother trying to correct them on the enemies part. Seemed as if that was the way it was always going to be according to the internet.
Tim and her knew better and that was enough.
Screaming. Crying. Throwing myself against a wall; A walkthrough of Netflix’s ‘Heartstopper’ with Set Decorator Maxwell Fine
Image credits: Netflix, Rob Youngson, See Saw, Maxwell Fine
This post has been copied from Maxwell Fine's website for future reference.
My phone didn’t stop buzzing on a random Wednesday in February 2021. Colleagues and friends were tweeting, facebooking and whatsapping me to tell me See Saw was producing a new show called Heartstopper for Netflix and I had to get myself involved. After making a little bit of a name for myself in LGBTQIA+ creative projects earlier in my career It sounded like the perfect fit for my next TV show!
I’m Maxwell Fine and for the past 10 years I have worked as a Set Decorator in TV, Advertising and Music promo. I’ve been in the most bizarre and fabulous situations on set from steaming silk curtains for Kate Winslet on a Lancome campaign to watching Lady Gaga be strung up to a studio ceiling in Japanese ropes for an Art Film. I’ve made panel shows, scripted comedies and fiercely bold dramas for BBC, Disney and Netflix amongst others - the list really does go on and on.
Thankfully, my phone often rings and my inbox is filled with requests here and there “can you do that?” or “Are you available to jump on this?” and on this particular random Wednesday afternoon, the brilliantly bold and BAFTA award winning designer Tim Dickel, asked me to jump on a Zoom to discuss a new project.
I had never heard of (the absolutely delightful) New York Times Best selling Author, Alice Oseman’s ‘Heartstopper’ before the script landed in my inbox. Like a lot of people, once I discovered it I couldn’t get it out of my head. There were so many parallels to my own life and I immediately understood why it was a queer story that just had to be told mainstream. If you can, you must - and so we did!
A few years previous I had campaigned for Switchboard LGBT+ helpline with the launch of my Print and Neon sculpture project ‘Robbed’. I created a load of typographical artworks inspired by a mentally exhausting jaunt I had with an ex partner who struggled with coming to terms with his sexuality.
The Art Department on a shoot take care of everything visual. From designing and building sets, booking Animals and Characters Vehicles, Food styling through to all the props and furniture used to dress a space. Paperclips to Spaceships - it’s up to the Art Department who design, buy and coordinate. As a Set Decorator, I work with a Designer and team to bring their vision to life through … stuff!
Observation is king.
I learnt to be a keen observer really early in secondary school. I was around 14 years old when I found myself squirrelled away at the back of the Art Classroom. I found myself set up on a stool next to the photocopier because I wouldn’t stop talking to my friends all lesson. I soon worked out that I really liked playing with materials and making things and so, headphones in I would sit for hours and hours, in lunch breaks and after school - making things. Painting, drawing, crafting sculptures, working with layering, cutting things out, trying again and again to make something out of nothing - a theme that would take me into this weird and wonderful career in Television!
We were being taught to observe. A weird task perhaps but an important one that would give me grounding for my future career working in TV design! As students, we would look at the world around us and try and replicate. Impressionist brush strokes, shadows and highlights on fruit, the texture of an onion out of papier mache - whatever we were working on - observation was king. Looking back now, I can not stress enough the importance of this life skill.
I gently honed my craft and with a lot of encouragement from teachers I passed my GCSE in Art and moved onto A Levels, then graduated Secondary school to a Foundation course in Art and Design and then onto Central Saint Martins to study Performance design as a University degree.
When we find Charlie sitting alone on the floor in the Art Classroom pondering life, it really made me think back to my own experience at school. Okay - so it’s wasn’t quite the same and our stories are different - but that connection to creativity and our shared curiosity with the world Charlie has is familiar to my story too.
In practice, being lead by our brilliant designer Tim, I tried to take the messy creativity of my own Art Classroom at School through to the Art Classroom at Truham. Together with our fabulous Production Buyer Zoe Seiffert and our Art Department team, we worked to create endless lists of what we were going to put in this empty room to bring it to life as a working Art Classroom.
I dug out some old photos I had of my Art room and we started to observe and take notes. Paint bottles, dirty brushes, coursework, notebooks, portfolios, stacks of paper. “Plants! We always had plants!” Zoe noted - quick - we popped some plants in the space and then our Art Assistants started making sketches of leaves, paintings of trunks to put around the place - as if the students had had a botanical project of some sort and had made work from the objects around them. All the amazing Artwork you see in the space was conceived by Tim and made in house by our team. Themes of Identity, open doors, the eye project, animal and environmental sculptures, self portraits - we were really exploring classic school themes here!
We added layers upon layers to bring life to the abandoned school we were filming in. We brought in coloured glass objects on window sills for light to bounce through, splattered paint all over the walls and repainted furniture. Our Art Assistants made recycled sculptures from coloured cellophane we found at a recycling warehouse on the outskirts of London. Tim has a knack of finding brilliant source images to work from. Sea animals, giant Jellyfish sculptures, Cassette tapes made from string, Fingerprint Artwork made from Newspaper cuttings - the creativity was endless!
You may notice throughout the series the Artwork in the room changes as the story moves through the seasons and our Characters develop their romance. Cacti sculptures come into bloom, Tissue Paper buds begin to blossom and we add more detail as the series progresses - in a way, the props here have their own way of growing with the Characters!
To say this set specifically was a labor of love is an understatement. We moved the artwork around the walls more than you’ll ever know, mounting, stapling, creating labels and really trying to capture the vibe of a busy British Secondary school Art room. We knew it was the one place in School where Charlie seeks refuge and so the relief of uncapped creativity needed to come through the props and dressing in this space more than anywhere else in the School.
Continuing our theme of integrating Alice’s illustrations, the sets in the Schools are almost their own character!
Tim was keen to create contrasting shapes and block colours to define spaces and keep the visual clean and graphic. The team made some epic 3D science posters in the Higgs form room and printed a semi transparent window film of the Periodic table to put in the window panes. Throughout the schools you can find nods to illustrations. From the Hokusai inspired blowing leaf mural (drawn by Alice!) in the Hallway (a beautiful nod to the winds of change!) at Truham to the Julian Opie inspired mural outside by the picnic benches. The best design ideas are often the simplest.
Tim wanted to work with the concept of a Geography classroom in the Truham Form room. Volcano sculptures made by students (actually made by our super talented Art Assistants) and segmented diagrams of Geodes and Rocks on the windows. We even found some really cool sandy beige school chairs from the 70’s to use here. Tim loves using light panels and placed a brilliant display of backlit images of rocks in the corner behind Nicks head for the scene where Charlie and Nick first meet. I loved the idea of rocks being formed under pressure and the metaphor of our characters blossoming romance - it all seemed to fit quite nicely. There are little gems like this all over the sets if you’re on the look out!
How to fill an empty space
Rule number one: Some spaces need to remain empty and some spaces are full on purpose.
Everything you see on screen is intentional, from dying plants to folded post-it notes. The colour of confetti through to the pattern on Nellie the dogs collar - every single item was hand picked by the Art Department with intention. You might think, why does this matter? Well, if it was any other way - we’d be telling a different story!
I talk a lot about contrast in this blog and really it’s the idea of full spaces vs empty spaces, light rooms vs dark rooms that bring the magic of a set together. The Dark, empty hallway Charlie follows Ben down vs the busy bright and colourful Art Room Charlie feels truly comfortable in to discuss his innermost feelings with Mr Ajai - everything we do is designed to support the storyline.
Working from Alice’s source material, we wanted a sense of hand drawn details in our sets. You can see this in patterns on ceramics and fabrics all over our sets. We tried to select elements that had a friendly illustrative element to them, from mugs to water bottles, curtains to cushions. The shapes within objects have softness, curves, uneven lines - we set ourselves guidelines to know what sort of objects to search for when we were buying.
As in most film shoots, we worked to create the perfect environment for our characters to exist in to let the story unfold. Charlie’s room is eclectic and messy because his story can be seen as eclectic and messy. He absorbs everything going on around him, over thinks and questions everything, so our question was; how do we show this through stuff?
Nicks room is more uniform in style. Nick’s life can be seen as more stereotypically ‘together’ than Charlie’s and so his Bedroom reflects this. It looks more settled and more formulaic. For me, the way Charlie embraces his sexuality is a direct result of him being so creatively curious in life. Although he might not think it, he’s bold, courageous and sure of himself. We wanted to create a design contrast between Nick and Charlie’s spaces to show their differences. Having such rich source material from Alice’s illustrations was a brilliant starting point for us to create from.
Our team worked on fleshing out the illustrations and adding layers of British Teenage life to them. We discussed how these characters would have grown up in these bedrooms and what the objects would be within them that make the bedrooms theirs.
There’s magic in the clutter!
We try to create a sense of realism by mixing and contrasting objects and colour tones. Brand new things next to vintage fabrics, hard surfaces next to soft, light next to dark. It can even get as granular as Matt next to Gloss - it’s all in the contrast. People tend to gather things in their environments over time from all sorts of places. It’s our job on a shoot to find the balance and create a convincing space in a super fast turn around -often a matter of weeks from concept to finished set.
Charlies bedroom wanted to be messy but also had to have a sense of ownership. We wanted to give him layers and layers of life that had collected as he’d grown up in the bedroom. We start with working out the furniture and then the rest falls into place from there. Our question often was, if there were 100 objects available what ones would Charlie pick to have in his bedroom? Out of all the things in the world, what represents him the most? Lamps, shoes, trinkets and bedding, books and posters - everything chosen specifically with the character in mind. I like to think the props tell their own story!
Early on Tim was keen to involve graphic shapes in the design for Heartstopper which came directly from Alice’s illustrations. The key to this was pulling reference directly from the Graphic novels. Stripes, stars, squiggles, leaves - you can see it in every scene and every shot. I found the rug from Charlie’s bedroom in a closing down sale in North London. We thought it worked really nicely with its bold geometric shapes in the scene where Nick and Charlie are on the floor doing homework.
I knew from reading my scripts (1000 times) that we had a sleepover here and our Characters would be hanging out on the floor. We found a vintage mattress to pull in on the floor for this scene and a load of random bedding and camping accessories we imagined would have been hauled out of the attic by Charlie’s dad. Charlie’s ‘cabin bed’ is raised up on cabinets which gives us some texture and shape behind him when he’s leaning against it sitting on his bedroom floor.
I found a job lot of amazing vintage erasers - we really wanted a sense of collections and nic’naks on shelves, stuffed behind the bed and on the desk. Our Art Assistants set to work scribbling, doodling, scratching marks into the furniture and remaking various things to turn one thing into another. A camel sculpture wears a vintage Action Man jacket, Toy Soldiers climb around Charlie’s bedroom door. It went on and on, including the excessive Converse piled around the room and plenty of Knitted jumpers noted in the graphic novels! If you looked super closely, we even scratched height marks into Charlie’s bedroom door frame as if his parents had noted different heights as he grew up.
Tim wanted realism in the sets to ground them in something believable and provided us with a lot of creative references to work from. We spent a long time researching what teens had in their bedrooms to guide us! I was asked if I could frame one of my Art prints for Charlie’s bedroom and we thought that the iconic ‘Stand Tall’ print would be the perfect piece to pop on his bedside table. It’s available to buy here if ever you needed an ounce of positivity and encouragement in your life too!
Our fantastic Art Assistant Anastasia Louka is a creative force and is behind most of the hand drawn elements in the show. Anastasia set about doodling and drawing, scribbling and making little personal bits all over the sets. The idea was to show a life lived in these spaces. We love stuff and our stuff (much like our clothes) show the world who we are.
Charlie’s house wanted to continue on the theme of being relaxed and creative. We wanted to create a connection to Charlie’s bedroom with a more grown up feel to it. The house needed to be familiar and cosy - we settled on the idea of his parents, much like Charlie being worldly people who had collected a variety of things in their lives. Peoples homes and bedrooms are often nests where they bring objects back from their experiences out in the world. Human beings are brilliant collectors of stuff and we try to show this when we work on sets for any project.
We set about buying in a load of artifacts from their travels, lots of terracotta and memorabilia from Europe. We thought about trinkets they may have brought home from a holiday to put on Kitchen surfaces, bits and pieces Charlie’s Dad may have collected over time on the fireplace in the living room. Teapots and vases, jugs and magnets - all sorts! I found a patterned sofa on eBay that I thought looked super comfy and something his mum would have bought when they moved in. Maybe something to bring gentle nostalgia for that iconic scene where Charlie is asleep on the Sofa with Nick.
I think the whole vibe of the house is that they’ve been there since Charlie and Tori were kids. There’s something about an old house that is so warm and lovely rather than something new and clean looking that can be a bit more hostile as an environment. Rather than going heavy with pattern, we worked with variations on tone and colour shades within ceramics and various pieces of wood furniture with knocks and deep wood grain to look like they had lived a life. We carried this through to slouchy cushions and floppy tropical plants, everything we put into the space was to create a sense of warmth, the sets here were almost sunkissed.
Nick’s room wanted to be a contrast to Charlie’s. In Charlie’s bedroom we see a lot of personal creativity in the objects he surrounds himself with. It’s almost like his Mum has decorated it for him and he’s added personal touches as a layer on top of that. We start our story with Nick not really knowing much about his sexuaility, so we wanted to add heteronormative touches to his room to ground his Character visually.
Our King of Rugby has a lot of trophies and sports medals. We dressed Robots on the window sill, Tin Spaceships and sports themed games, metal gridded shelving, Aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling and of course a load of hoodies everywhere - it’s a boys bedroom. There are a few bits from when he was younger but we thought maybe his mum had had a good clear out and a redecorated as he grew up. He even has a double bed!
As with all our sets, when we have hard surfaces we needed to cosy it up a bit and we do this here with soft linen curtains, throwback bedding and a slouchy corduroy beanbag. I especially loved Alice’s ‘Straight boy puts up one string of fairy lights for Christmas and never takes them down’ vibe.
Of course, there’s buckets of personality in Nick’s bedroom too but we wanted it to be less free flowing and fluid than Charlie’s. Knowing Nick’s mum was a Doctor we thought there had to be a sense of formality and style to the space to contrast with Charlie’s wholly creative and organic environment. The most ‘out there’ this room gets is the bright yellow sunglasses hanging on the peg board! Crazy Nick ;) There’s more structure to the objects we put into this space, less eclectic and more scandinavian design themes - block colours and cleanly shaped objects in light wood, chrome and frosted perspex. I think this sets the tone for a teen who seemingly has his life together and allowed us to strike that distinction when he realises it may be taking a turn in a different (but fabulous) direction as our story develops. I guess it depends on how much you think ‘stuff’ defines a person.
We had the challenge of bringing life a few more amazingly detailed bedroom sets for the other Characters in our story. We knew we wanted a Top-Shot of Darcy’s room and that they were super super expressive as a person. We set about finding all sorts of things to have on their bedroom floor that they could lay amongst from toys to clothes through to random bits of bedding from their childhood and even some fun fairy lights and streamers to throw into the mix. Elles bedroom was a bit more refined, she’s a talented artist so we made a load of doodles and paintings to put on the wall. The fun part was getting variations between the bedrooms and this comes through in the detail the team put into the sets.
Tao’s bedroom was bursting with Polaroid photos and amazing Artwork made by our in house Graphic Designer Mike Cranston. For this set, Tim wanted to push through that Tao was a film lover so we collected a load of vintage equipment, old cameras and even wire sculptures of cameras to dot around his bedroom. Tim found a gridded wallpaper to use as the base to line up all the wall elements with and it flowed from there - LED lighting behind the bed, cool perspex shelves to display his collection of cameras on - it all came together and was the perfect setting for Tao and Elle’s movie night together!
Tara’s bedroom was one of my favourites - the script said she was surrounded by stuffed toys - so we went to town and covered her entire bed in 40 teddy bears! We also got to work on a snippet of Isaacs bedroom as he sits against a wall (classically) head in a book! With all of the sets, we tried to get a lived in look going by washing bedding on a high heat and leaving out to air dry and putting them on the beds unironed. It’s all in the detail!
Harry’s 16th Birthday party is where it all comes together so we had to make it fabulous! When Designer Tim asked us to arrange Balloons all over the exterior of this magical building I knew exactly who to call. Our fabulous Balloon Queen Jane and team were up for the task! We had some coloured balloon samples sent to our office and plotted out where the balloons would go on a print out of the building. There were 1000’s of Balloons inflated indoors the day before filming and then were strung out of windows for the shot when Charlie arrives at the party in his dad’s car.
Another challenge on this set was to recreate Floral arrangements from the books when Charlie and Nick have their first kiss. I took note of Alice’s illustrations and I knew Jenny Tobin (Florist to the stars!) could do them justice. We referenced Daisies and meadow flowers with their big relaxed droopy heads and floppy leaves. It was important to us the florals were friendly and approachable instead of stiff and corporate. Charlie and Nick run off to find a quiet spot to catch up at the party and we wanted to try and match the florals here to Alice’s Illustrations as best we could in real life. A lot of thought goes into everything we put on screen and most of the florals in Heartstopper are Jenny’s brilliant work.
Towards the end of our shoot schedule, in the middle of Summer we started work on the Herne Bay / Pier sets. Our designer Tim had some amazing mood boards of truly British Seaside scenes so we set about pulling in all the various items we’d need to recreate that. Our production buyer Zoe found some fantastic sealife balloons that we thought harked back to our Art Classroom sculptures (we love a throwback reference!) and we filled baskets with all sorts of things you’d find at the seaside. From buckets and spades, through to pool noodles and parasols - if its on a beach we had it.
One of the final scenes we filmed was the merry-go-round fairground ride that was (inside scoop!) filled with crew!! Safe to say, by the 5th time round I was feeling like I was about to vomit but it was far too late to get off as we were already filming and I was right in the back of shot.
Of course there are plenty of other sets that we worked on for the show that I haven’t gone into detail about but overall we worked to create a fully realised splash of queer teen British loveliness throughout. I was continually humbled by the 110% our team put into every day at work on this project, we really were all working at a million miles per hour to make the visual the best we could and try to do Alice’s brilliant world justice.
All said and done, I hope our side of the story has come through in the props and set dressing for the better! It was a massively exciting project to work on and myself and our fantastic production buyer Zoe felt a huge responsibility to Alice, the fans and the LGBTQI+ community to inject as much vibrancy and life into these sets as we could. We knew from the start how groundbreaking this show would be for Netflix and our community as a whole. We made sure we took extra care selecting every one of the thousands of items we put into the sets and felt so lucky to have Tim, Alice, Patrick, Zorana and Euros to guide us each step of the way.
We could not have done it if it wasn’t for the inspiring framework our designer, Tim Dickel had set out for the visuals for the show - his endless creativity and passion for storytelling is compelling and bursts through every scene! Most importantly, we had a tonne of fun pulling it all together which is really, what it’s all about.
As always with the LGBT+ projects I work on, we stand on the shoulders of the giants who have come before us and we pay immense gratitude to everyone in the queer space past and present who have created work to better the community we all belong to.
Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 25 of 27: Invitation
Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?
Choose Me Instead Masterlist
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post war
“Draco Lucius Malfoy, what were you thinking?”, Narzissa’s voice cut through the warm and peaceful summer evening like a knife. Draco didn’t flinch or turn his head. He simply raised an eyebrow as he looked at his mother in the mirror. The blonde woman wore an expression of pure disgust on her face. She put her arms on her hips as she slowly shook her head.
“What’s wrong, Mother?”, Draco asked innocently.
“Is this supposed to be a joke?” She walked over to his side with long strides. “Because if so, it is certainly not a funny one.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“This.” She pointed at his suit. Draco looked at his reflection. It was the same black suit he always wore to festive occasions. So far, his mother had never once complained about it. Although now he guessed her problem with it. “You can’t get married in this! You look like you’re invited to a funeral,” Narzissa exclaimed.
“It certainly feels like I’m going to one,” he muttered underneath his breath but Narzissa heard him. Her eyes narrowed but a snort behind them prevented her from further scolding.
Theo stood in the door, an amused smile on his face. “Apologies, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said when they noticed him. “I did not mean to interrupt a private conversation.”
Narzissa’s gaze softened. She had a weakness for the Nott boy. “It’s fine, Theodore. But please, tell Draco that his outfit is utterly unacceptable. Talk some sense into him.” She scoffed after taking another look at her son. Draco clenched his jaw.
“I will certainly try,” said Theo when Mrs. Malfoy passed him on her way out. She didn’t close the door behind her. Theo waited until her footsteps faded in the distance before he looked at his friend.
“If you say one word about my suit, I will crucio you,” Draco stated dryly.
“If you wear this suit tomorrow, Astoria will crucio you.”
Draco sighed and turned around. “Why are you here?”
Theo let himself fall onto the bed. “You’re supposed to give me the rings and –”
“– and?”, asked Draco when Theo stopped.
His friend hesitated.
“Are you actually going through with the wedding?”
Draco nodded. “Obviously.”
Theo’s brows furrowed. “It’s not my place to ask but what about –”
“Say her name and I’ll rethink crucioing you.”
“I don’t think that’s a word.”
Draco glared at him but his friend watched him entirely unimpressed before he shrugged. “I just have a feeling this won’t end well. You found someone who loves you and yet you are here marrying someone else.”
“Astoria loves me,” Draco muttered.
“Does she?” Theo raised an eyebrow. “She always seemed quite fond of Blaise.”
“Theo,” Draco began and sat down on a chair. “What do you want? As far as I remember, you weren’t particularly excited when I started dating her. Something about blood traitors and Gryffindors.”
Theo gave a dismissive wave. “Yes, yes, I know, I come from a bigoted family of assholes, I’m still learning. However,” he made an important pause, “she’s alright. A little weird and sometimes annoying but I like her. She’s good for you. You need her.”
Draco huffed. He had averted his gaze while Theo spoke, each of his words pulling at his wounds a little more, ripping them open, causing them to bleed all over again. It wasn’t as if he had spent the past weeks desperately trying to forget you, to stop dreaming about you, to get rid of your image that appeared whenever he closed his eyes.
He saw you, pieces of you, in everything he did. In the books in his library, in the flowers in his mother’s rose garden. When he saw the candy his mother bought, he wanted to scream, and when he opened the newspaper and read an article about Quidditch games, he almost ripped it apart.
A few weeks ago, Draco followed your sister’s trial. He saw the pictures in the “Daily Prophet”, hoping to see you but he succeeded only once. They printed a picture of your family, taken after the final hearing, but Draco didn’t recognize you in it. The young woman who stared blankly at the camera had nothing in common with the one who smiled at him in Hogsmeade with snowflakes in her hair and adoration in her eyes. He had abruptly put the newspaper down and when he looked up, he caught his mother staring at him with a look in her eyes that made him shiver. It hadn’t been confusion or worry or fear but … guilt. The guilt she had carried with her since the day Draco arrived home. He couldn’t pinpoint it, didn’t quite know where it was coming from but deep down, he had a dark hunch.
“I’ll never see her again, so it doesn’t matter,” Draco mumbled after a while.
“Right,” replied Theo. Something in his voice, made Draco look up at him. Theo fumbled with the edge of the blanket. Oh no.
“What did you do?”
“Maybe I …,” he began, still focused on the blanket. “Considering half of your family can’t show up …”
“What did you do?”, Draco asked again, almost growling.
“I invited her to the wedding.”
You had debated coming to Ginny and at first, decided against it. But with each day that passed and brought you closer to the wedding, your heartache grew and with it, your shame. Your father tried to throw away the invitation but you fished it out of the fireplace before it was too late. You put in the drawer in your nightstand but even though you didn’t see it, it never left your mind for one second. You only read it once and yet you could recite the words in your sleep.
Why did Draco invite you? Why would he do that, knowing how much it would hurt you? Or did the invitation not come from him but from Astoria to spite you and show you that she had won? You didn’t know. It didn’t make sense.
The night before the wedding, you couldn’t bare it. You paced around in your room and when the thoughts finally became too dark, you grabbed the invitation and apparated to the burrow. Ginny opened the door with wet hair. She wore only a grey shirt and a pair of sweatpants, the name of the Holyhead Harpies printed on her right leg. Judging from the expression on her face, she didn’t expect you. “What happened?”
You stared at her sweatpants when the realization hit you. “Oh Merlin, I’m a horrible friend. You had your first training session today and I forgot!”
“It’s fine, come in,” Ginny shook her head and opened the door wider. “Tell me what happened first.”
You apologized again but she didn’t want to hear it. Following her inside, you noticed the unusual stillness of the house. “Where’s everyone?”
“My parents are out, Ron is with Hermione tonight and George moved back to his old flat a few weeks ago,” said Ginny. “We’re alone.” She motioned towards the kitchen table. “Sit. You want a tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” you mumbled. When you sat down, your fingers nervously tapped on the wood. Ginny noticed.
“Alright then, this looks more like a wine situation.” Ginny pulled open the cupboards and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of wine. She filled them up way too full and handed them to you, before sitting down. “Now, tell me what’s going on and then we can talk about me.”
You smiled apologetically. You forgetting about such an important day for her, only added to the guilt you already felt. But instead of answering her, you handed her the invitation.
“Wow,” Ginny whistled when she read it. “That man has nerves. You’re not going, right?”
“Of course not.” You shook your head.
Ginny put the card down and looked at you with sad eyes. She squeezed your hand softly. “You want me to call Hermione and organize a girl’s night for tomorrow? With loads of alcohol and questionable decisions?”
You looked back down at the table and nodded. Ginny watched you.
“Spill it,” she finally said. “I can hear your thoughts, what’s going on?”
You wanted to tell her everything but your mind was empty. No words would leave your tongue. Ginny would be mad, you knew it. And where would you even start?
You looked at her – and then you swallowed all your pride and fear. “I need to confess something.”
“You lied for a whole year,” Ginny stated after she heard everything you had to say for yourself.
You nodded, nervously playing with the edge of your skirt while waiting for a reaction. Anger, disappointment – you were prepared for everything. The reaction didn’t come though. Instead, your best friend stared at her glass of wine, thinking calmly about everything you just told her.
“So why did you do it again?”
“To get back at –”
“– back at my brother, right,” she finished your sentence. For the first time since you finished talking, she looked up at you. “Seriously, Y/N?”
“I could think of a thousand better ways to get back at my brother than getting into a fake relationship with Malfoy!”, she exclaimed. She almost spilled her wine by the sudden movement of her arm. “And none of it would have involved lying to all of your friends and then catching feelings for that … that Death Eater!”
“He’s not a Death Eater,” you tried to defend him weakly. “Also I didn’t catch feelings.”
Ginny rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. “Did you sleep with him?”
“Did you sleep with him?”, Ginny repeated her question.
You didn’t answer.
“Great,” she said sarcastically. “Are you jealous of her?”
Again, no answer.
“You’re in love,” Ginny concluded. “You’re in love with freaking Malfoy.”
“I’m glad you decided against becoming an Auror.” You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. “Besides, why aren’t you laughing at me yet? This whole situation must be hilarious to you!”
“I’ll laugh at you later. I’m too mad right now.” Now she sighed as well. “What now, Y/N?”
“What do you mean?”
“What are you gonna do about it?”
“Nothing. He’s getting married tomorrow.”
“So what?” Ginny shrugged.
You looked at her in confusion. “What do you want me to do?”
“Crash the wedding.”
“Are you serious?”
Crashing the wedding. For you, it had been clear that you wouldn’t attend the wedding from the moment you read the invitation. Sometimes, in very weak moments, you thought about writing to him. Explaining to Draco what happened but then you locked away your quill and parchment and tried to distract yourself. But crashing the wedding? No, this never crossed your mind. “I can’t crash the wedding.”
“Who’s crashing a wedding?”
The voice made you flinch. Hermione and Ron stood in the doorway, looking back and forth between you and Ginny.
“No one,” you quickly said. You were truly not in the mood to discuss this with Ron around.
Ginny didn’t care about that. “Y/N,” she chirped and when Hermione raised an eyebrow, she added: “Malfoy.” This was all the explanation they needed. Hermione sat down next to you quickly while Ron’s eyes darkened. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Why?”, Hermione asked.
You opened your mouth but Ginny cut you off. “Oh, only because she lied to us for the entire year,” she began, “faked the whole damn relationship but somehow ended up catching feelings for that ferret after all and now she’s invited to the wedding but doesn’t want to go but is obviously suffering, so she’ll get her ass over that fucking Manor and crash the wedding.”
Hermione’s face went blank. If Ginny’s face wouldn’t have included you as the main character, you would have actually cackled at the way Hermione stared at the Redhead. “Excuse me?”
“We can’t go over this again, I will explain more later.” Ginny straightened her back. “First we need a plan.”
“You invited her to the wedding?” Draco paced through his room.
Theo, who leaned against the headboard of Draco’s bed, rolled his eyes. “How often do you want me to answer that question again?”
Ever since Theo had dropped the bomb that he invited you, Draco couldn’t calm down. After a few very questionable insults, he had jumped up from his chair and asked him over and over again if he had any fucking idea of how bad this was.
“Do you have any fucking idea what you did?”, Draco exclaimed and his voice shook. “Do you think she’s welcome here?! Do you think, Astoria’s family will be graciously offering her a seat at the table and let her ruin everything?!”
“Why would she ruin anything?” Theo asked. “She’s just a guest.”
He huffed as if the answer wasn’t crystal clear. “Because … because …”
“Because you won’t go through with the wedding if you see her.”
“Fuck you,” Draco spat.
Theo laughed bitterly. “Honestly, man, cancel that wedding.”
“What more do you need to know? You don’t want to marry Astoria. This whole thing will go up in flames.”
“Countless people like us have been married to people they didn’t love.
“Oh, yes, and they’re all perfectly happy,” Theo replies, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“You can learn to love someone.”
The dark-haired Slytherin scoffed. “But you already love her. You love her and you’re miserable but for some fucked up reason you prefer to suffer instead of –”
“She’s the one who ended it!” Draco shouted. “She broke up with me! She didn’t want me anymore!”
“And then she slept with you and told you she loved you. And then on the Quidditch stands, she cries in your arms and asks to stay in contact and gives you a fucking present,” Theo replied calmly. “Yes, Draco, she hates you.”
Draco glared at him. “Remind me to never drink with you again.”
“Cancel the wedding, Draco,” Theo said, “Cancel the wedding and fight for her.”
“She should go tonight. Not during the wedding.”
“No, tomorrow. Like in one of your muggle movies.” Ginny’s eyes lit up.
“Ginny.” Hermione wiped her hand over her forehead. “This is real life. Imagine how you would feel if Harry’s ex bursts in during your wedding and announces her love for Harry.”
She chuckled. “Cho Chang?”
Hermione groaned. You leaned back against the chair and watched the whole scene unfold in front of you. As if the girls had forgotten you, they rambled one about when you should go and what you should say, without ever once asking for your opinion. You were torn, your eyes always landing back on the invitation.
Should you go? You would see him again. It had been weeks since you saw him. You would smell his cologne again. Oh, how you missed that smell. But what would you say? Nothing had changed since you broke up. Nothing.
Well, almost nothing. Alissa was found and convicted. But for him it was still the same situation – the marriage would give him a chance for a better life within their social ranks. Astoria could give him everything.
Everything except love.
Ginny dropped her glass of wine. With a shriek, she jumped up as the red liquid spilled over her clothes.
“Shit,” she cursed. Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a quick spell to get rid of the mess.
Before you knew what you were doing, you got up from your chair and used the moment of chaos to leave the kitchen. You needed fresh air.
It was a warm and quiet summer night, disturbed only by the chirping of crickets and buzzing of mosquitos. No clouds darkened the lights from the stars and the moon shone brightly. Truly, a beautiful night.
You wondered what Draco was doing tonight. Was he celebrating with Theo and Blaise?
“Hey.” Behind you, the door fell shut and Ron appeared next to.
“I’m not in the mood for this, Ron.” You kept looking at the stars. Ron followed your gaze.
“For a fight.”
“Hm,” Ron made. “I’m tired of fighting.”
Me too, you thought, I’m so tired.
“Did you love me? The way you love him?”
The question came out of nowhere. You blinked in surprise and looked at him. Ron had his hands buried in his pockets and for a moment, all the memories returned. You were back at the burrow, one year ago, with him. A beautiful, carefree summer spent with picnic dates and Quidditch games in the yard. With ice-cream and strawberries and whispered confessions of love.
Then it hit you. You used to talk of love last year when you didn’t know what that word truly meant. Ron made you feel like a teenager. Something, you had desperately craved after losing your youth to war and death. He made life feel easy and drowned out all the misery around you. And then he threw you away without second thought when Hermione came back. Suddenly, everything bad returned.
With Draco life didn’t feel easy. But being with him did. Life was unfair and painful and both of you had been through so much – but when you were with him, in his arms, you knew that it would get better. He didn’t drown out the pain but instead showed you a future where you could live with it. With him, there was peace instead of repression. There was hope instead of desolation.
You would find another love in this life, of course, you were still so young. But suddenly you knew, that after Draco, no one else would ever compare. You loved Draco with every fiber of your being, every piece of your soul.
With this realization, suddenly the storm calmed down inside of you. The anger, the burning rage that you had felt for months whenever you looked at Ron, began to fade away slowly.
“No,” you finally said, your voice soft. “It took me a while to realize that you were nothing more than a distraction. I was so angry with the whole world and my family … and you helped me escape those feelings for a little while.”
He smiled. “That’s fair.”
You watched him. “Did you love me?”, you asked.
Ron looked down and hesitated before he answered: “No, I’m sorry.”
You nodded. You had suspected that.
“Can we still be friends?”
“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ll think about it once the more important problems in my life cleared themselves up.”
“You spent too much time with Slytherins.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Whatever,” Ron chuckled.
The two of you stayed like this for a few more minutes, enjoying the stillness of the night together. From inside the house, you heard your friends shrieking again. Maybe Ginny had spilled her wine again.
“Is that … your owl?” Ron squinted and stared into the sky.
You followed his gaze. A dark shadow came closer and closer. “Yes,” you said when you recognized the familiar animal. The brown owl landed in front of you. She carried a letter in her beak and you petted her head softly as you took it. You furrowed your brows when you saw the familiar handwriting. But then you flipped it around and the sight of the seal caused your blood to freeze inside your veins.
“From whom is it?”, Ron asked curiously.
“Greengrass,” you mumbled, not caring about his reaction when you teared the letter open.
writing this letter does not come easy to me. I am aware about everything Narzissa did and I am grateful that you decided to do the right thing and ended the relationship. However, tonight I had to bear witness to a heated conversation between Draco and Theo. Theodore mentioned that he had invited you and I am here to inform you that this clearly went against our, Draco’s and mine, wishes. I hereby ask you not to attend my wedding tomorrow.
Y/N, I know your feelings for Draco are deep and real. And I am aware that Draco shares your feelings. Yet, I ask, no I beg you, to stay away. Please. I don’t know what Draco told you about my … situation, but please, don’t make this worse for me. If he sees you tomorrow … please, spare me the embarrassment. Please.
“What is this?” Ginny had come outside. Hermione followed her.
“Y/N?”, Hermione asked but when you didn’t reply, she took the letter from your hands. Ginny and Ron huddled around her to read it.
Astoria Greengrass begged you to stay away. She heard Draco and Theo talk about you.
“What did Narzissa do?”, Hermione mumbled.
“No clue but it doesn’t sound good,” replied Ginny.
Ron added: “She certainly doesn’t win Mother of the Year with her current behavior.”
Astoria Greengrass begged you. If he sees you tomorrow … please, spare me the embarrassment. Your heart skipped a beat. Did that mean …?
“Well, fuck,” Ginny said. “She’s desperate. Did Malfoy tell you what’s up with her.”
“No,” you mumbled.
Hermione shook her head. “The poor girl, she seems to be terrified. This changes everything.”
“Yes, it does,” you blurted out. Three pairs of eyes looked at you. But suddenly, you knew what you had to do. “I have to go to him.”
Ginny grinned. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. “Not the direction I was going with this,” Hermione said.
“I need to go,” you repeated your words. You loved him. You loved him and he loved you, and you had already wasted way too much time. Screw Mrs. Malfoy, screw Astoria – who were they to stand in the way of your happiness? Why did you let them treat you this way? Why did you cower and kept your head down all this time? “Draco loves me.”
“Did you skip the passage where she writes that he didn’t invite you and doesn’t want you there?”, Hermione asked.
“No,” you smiled widely, “it makes so much more sense now. Of course, he wouldn’t invite me. He knows how much it would hurt me!”
Hermione tilted her head. “Uhm … right, what about where she literally begs you to stay away? I don’t know, Y/N, this sounds serious.”
You let out a short laugh. “I don’t care.”
“I don’t.” You shook your head. “I always care what everyone else says about this relationship and do what others tell me. They keep telling me to stay away and I obey? Why? Why should I care about what they think? I’m a fucking Gryffindor, for Merlin’s sake! Time to stand up for myself and get what I want!”
Ginny laughed but Hermione’s expression didn’t change. “Don’t you think this is more … egoistical than brave?”
“Maybe,” you said. “But I have to stop caring about what they say for once. Everyone tries to keep us away from each other for selfish reasons. So why can’t I be selfish for once?”
You didn’t go that night. Hermione argued with you and finally convinced you to at least calm down, digest the words in the letter and think about it with a clear head. “Don’t make this decision based on emotions,” she had said, “It’ll hurt a lot of people.” And then she talked about the lies, about the way you had treated the girls and the friendship over the past year. Apparently, horrible. But you had known that. Tears were shared, anger expressed and when shortly after midnight, you were in each other’s arms, crying.
You spent the night at the burrow and woke up early. The sun just began to rise and the first few golden sunrays illuminated Bill’s old room. As you stared at the ceiling, you still knew that you had to go. So you got dressed quickly and sprinted down the stairs.
“Oh, Y/N,” Arthur Weasley’s cheery voice caused you to stop at the end of the stairs. Ginny’s father sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper in his hand, and smiled brightly at you. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” you replied politely.
“Y/N?”, Molly appeared from behind a corner. “Oh, darling, it is so nice to see you, come here.” She pulled you into a tight, warm hug and you breathed in the familiar scent of freshly baked buns.
“Where are you going?”, Arthur asked. “You seem to be in quite the hurry.”
“She’s crashing a wedding,” Ginny said behind you. When she saw your surprised expression, she rolled her eyes. “Please, I thought an elephant ran down the stairs.”
“Oh,” Arthur looked at his wife who shrugged. “That is …”
“Yes, yes, dad, I will tell you all about it later,” Ginny interrupted him and turned her attention back to you. “You’re not going there looking like this.”
You looked down on your outfit. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Nothing, but they won’t let you in. Dress code on the invitation clearly states Black Tie. You were a dress from me.”
You tilted your head. “I’m not sure we have the same size.”
“Magic, sweety,” Ginny said and reached for your hand to pull you back up the stairs. “Magic.”
“And when you come back down, we’ll have a nice breakfast,” Molly called after you. “You need a full stomach to crash a wedding.”
Draco Malfoy, dressed in an entirely new suit that his mother had wordlessly handed him this morning, sat in the library of Malfoy Manor. The rooms gave him a clear vision of the garden which was decorated with the most extravagant flowers. House elves worked tirelessly, arranging chairs for the hundreds of guests who would attend from all over Europe, while his mother occasionally gave them orders. Astoria wanted a garden wedding. A bit non-traditional for her family but they agreed to her wish.
Draco didn’t care about what went on outside though. He stared at a picture in his hand. You had given it to him and he had put it away, swearing not to look at for many months but today … today, he needed to see you.
He had fought with Theo for many more hours last night, trying to convince his friend, and maybe even himself, that he had to go through with the wedding. You had told him twice to back off and he needed to respect your wishes. No matter, how much they pained him. Draco wondered if you would follow Theo’s advice and come. He couldn’t tell if you would – and he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to.
The doors behind him opened and Draco quickly put the photograph in the pocket of his pants. Astoria came in, wearing only a black bathrobe. Her hair was already done and her make-up let her eyes glow. She was beautiful and he was certain that she would be even more stunning in her wedding dress.
However, Astoria didn’t look like any person would expect a bride to look on her wedding day.
“You’re sad,” Draco stated.
She smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Blaise said I’d find you here.” She paused. “Draco, you have to let go of her.”
Draco lowered his gaze. “Astoria.”
“Please, Draco, you have to,” her voice broke.
“No, no. You didn’t.” Astoria sighed. Then she grabbed his hands and came closer. She was so close that she could smell her rose shampoo. In this moment he realized, that they had never once shared a kiss since the engagement. “I heard you last night,” Astoria whispered. “I enforced security. You won’t see her today.”
Draco let out a shuddering breath. Then he pulled her up against his chest, placing his arms around her. They stood like that for a while, listening to each other’s heartbeats. “Do you even want to marry me?”
Astoria sniffled. Only now did he notice that she was crying. “Draco, we’ve been over this.”
Even though you had an invitation and looked absolutely flawless in the yellow dress that Ginny once wore to the Winter Dance a few months ago, they wouldn’t let you in. Astoria had apparently taken all the necessary precautions to keep you away from the wedding. But now, it was too late for her to stop you. You wouldn’t give up so easily.
It had taken you ages to get ready. You had to endure an endless breakfast, a few more arguments with Hermione and Ginny’s efforts to make you look somewhat presentable before you finally left. Ginny joined you but Hermione declined. “Malfoy Manor,” she had whispered, “I can’t go there. Not yet.” You understood.
You arrived in time though. In time, to get to Draco before the ceremony started to spare Astoria the embarrassment of barging in while they’d say their vows. However, due to the security man who took his job quite serious, time was running out. By now, the ceremony had probably already started. Ginny finally convinced him. After flirting, apparating, and threatening didn’t work, she tried bribing – and suddenly, at the prospect of seeing every Holyhead Harpies games for free for the next season, he gave in and the gate opened.
“Go, go, go,” Ginny called and before the security man had a chance to rethink his decision, you ran down the pathway towards the Manor. It was beautifully decorated and if you hadn’t been in such a hurry, you would have taken the time to fully appreciate its beauty and the sheer grandness of the estate. But now was not the time.
You barged inside the manor, following the signs that lead you through it and back out into the gardens. There they were. A huge crowd of people sitting on white chairs, surrounded by white lilies and roses. Draco and Astoria both stood at the end. Draco was talking.
Vows, you realized, they’re saying their vows!
You picked up your pace. Behind you, there were shouts. Security guards, but you ignored them. The altar came closer. A few guests in the last rows, turned their heads and whispered in confusion.
“Wait!”, you finally yelled when you were almost at the altar. “Wait, please!”
A/N: I can’t believe this story is coming to an end. Next two (and last) chapters will be posted on the weekend! I’m crying omg
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Looking for a Place to Happen 2
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats
This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.
Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely
Note: Here’s chapter two. Think I’ll probably slow down writing. Appreciate y’all.
Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
Chapter 2: I follow every little whiff
You gave yourself a day off that week. Rather, the desolation of Birch allowed you an excuse to get away from your desk. An internet outage across the town had you up and wandering the main road just after noon. Your grandmother refused to join you so she was left to her true crime novel and the weekday droning of talk show hosts.
After a peek in the book shop where you picked out some used thrillers for your nan and a guilty splurge on one of Babs' pies to add to the surprise, you stopped by the diner and had some soup to warm up from the unrelenting cold. You played around on your phone as you blindly slurped from your spoon. With no available connection, you swapped candies to achieve a score high enough to get to the next round.
After another loss, you put your screen down and added some pepper to the tomato soup. You leaned your chin in your hand and peered across the road. The Asp was just diagonal from The Chipped Saucer and from your seat by the window you could see the comings and goings of the dingy bar.
You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the hundreds of comments on your video. You weren't entirely surprised that the internet cheered at the sight of a woman beating up a man in broad daylight, you'd seen much worse on the web. But many were curious and asked about how it started and about the small town alluded to in the caption.
You picked up your phone and flipped open the camera. You pointed it through the glass as one of the many bikers strutted out of the bar and down the street. You knew him, like most in town, he was the leader's right hand man. Steve Rogers. He had an odd gait, rigid with long strides, and you remember Kelly used to make fun of him when you walked home from school. That felt like forever ago.
You ended the video and dropped your phone again. You'd send it to Kelly when the outage was over. It would be a good laugh. Plus, you hadn't heard from her much since she moved to the city.
You finished your soup and paid. You went out into the street and cut around to the backstreets. You made your way back to your nans and found Pippin scratching at the front door. You stopped and scooped him up before you let yourself in.
"Don't like the snow, do ya?" You set him down and he whipped his tail before skittering off, "hey nan, I got you some stuff."
"You spend too much," she grumbled as you hung your coat and grabbed her treats.
"Only on you," you sang as you entered the front room, "sugarless blueberry pie, your fave, and some books about murder and all that freaky stuff you love."
"Hmm," she watched you put the pie and books down on the coffee table, "suppose the pie will go good with tea."
"Ah, and I suppose I'll be making that tea?" You returned.
"My arthritis…" she pouted but her grin came through.
"Yeah, yeah," you snickered as you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, "we going black today or something lighter?"
"Put on some of the pekoe," she called back, "make a whole pot."
"Will do, ma'am," you trilled and basked in her annoyed mutter.
When the internet came back, you sent of an email to inform the agency of the interruption and promised to meet your deadlines. Then you puttered around and added a caption to the video before you sent it off to Kelly; 'why he walk like that tho'. She sent a series of crying emojis back and told you to post it.
'Nah, it's a dumb joke.' You typed back.
'Saw ur last vid, ppl will eat it up,' she insisted.
'Well, got nothing else to put up. The account’s dying since no one cares about my writing.'
'DO IT.' Her words sealed your resolve and you uploaded the video with some dramatic music in the background.
The response was almost instantaneous. Several comments saying they were happy to see more and others being for another video. 'We all wanna see inside this fucked up town' one added and several latched on. Ignoring the questions of where this was, you gave a thin promise of future small town thug content.
You turned back to your work email and opened up your draft for your next gig. You couldn't help but smile as you went over your work. You might have just found your niche.
You knew your nan would lose it if she knew you were snooping around the club, so you didn’t tell her. You went down, made her breakfast, went back upstairs to do your work, then tiptoed out in the late afternoon to poke around town for something to upload. Birch was so dull when you lived there but to those outside, it was a novelty you were all too eager to provide.
You got more videos of the bikers; some revving their bikes, others arguing, but there was nothing overly usable. You were getting bored of it until the man himself walked out of the bar. You record the man’s glower expression as he marched down the sidewalk and turned off just down the way.
‘His name is Bucket… wtf?!’ you keyed in and snorted as you waited for it to load to your account.
Still, there was nothing special going on, like always in Birch, and your grandmother was bound to get suspicious if you kept sneaking around. You went back and hid your phone before she could bitch about it. You cooked her dinner and sat with her as your thoughts swung between work and your TikTok.
You went to bed but couldn’t sleep. You ended up watching YouTube on your phone as the windows shook with the night winds. It wasn’t until the darkness began to glow that you were roused from the cocoon of your comforter. You looked out and saw smoke coming from the main road.
You didn’t think before you pulled on your jeans and shoved your feet into your slipper, unconcerned about them soaking through as you barreled down the stairs, the sleeves of your hoodie only half on. The back door bounced behind you and you crunched down into the snow and clamored past the row of lifeless houses.
You were out of breath as you got to the end of the path and rounded the diner to gape over at the burning garage. You got closer as the line of bikers stood in their leather with breath puffing before them in the frigid night. You stepped back into the shadow of the brick façade of the realty office and swiped your camera open.
Your hands shook and you struggled to steady the image on the screen as the mechanic woman raged in only her tee shirt. You didn’t quite understand what was going on; only that her garage was up in smoke and then men were doing nothing to smother it. She swung at the dark haired man and spat at several others; “cowards”... “fuck all of you!”
You gulped and held your breath as she was dragged away by the large redheaded henchman of the slender outsider. She fought for a moment before she was flung over his shoulder and the biker followed their leader back to The Asp. You sidled in between the building and hid until the voices faded into the wind.
Well, that would be a hell of a video. It might even go viral.
Your phone did not stop. You almost felt bad as you saw the screen limn the edges of your cell as you left it face down on the little table beside the couch. Your nan sat in her rocking chair talking away on her corded phone to Linette from down the road. You suspected that every other person in town was gossiping about the same thing; the fire.
You finished your coffee and rubbed your eyes as you checked the time and ignored the pulsing notifications. It was too much to keep up with.
Your grandmother hung up and sighed, “can’t believe it. You hear?”
“Hear what?” you pretended ignorance.
“That old garage burned down. The one with the lady,” she said, “pity. When I was a girl, that place was a salon. Ma used to take us there to get our hair cut. The barber would give us wrapped candies and pretend to cut himself with his scissors.”
“Oh? It burned down?” you weren’t sure you were very convincing but you also could just say you saw it happen.
“Yep, no one really can say. You know, maybe she was welding or some rag caught, but I bet my money on those bikers,” she sneered.
“Good thing you’re poor,” you kidded, “and why the bikers?”
“Oh, well, you know Kimmy, Linette’s girl, works down at the diner and she saw that mechanic arguing with one of those strangers, the ones dealing with the club men. Well, it’s no coincidence that trouble follows those leather jackets around,” she rocked as she nodded knowingly, “oh, one of the boys I knew back in the day, he was found burnt up with his bike. They said the tank blew… well, I saw it and that tank was pristine.”
“Nan,” you gasped, “you… Jesus.”
“Well, things don’t change in Birch, we just get older,” she continued, “when you’re young, everything seems new but then you age and it’s all just the same.”
“Wow, how… inspiring,” you said dryly.
“Girlie, you gotta be careful,” she intoned, “that fire, that’s a lesson to all the women in this town. To everyone. You don’t cross the Commandos.”
“I don’t think anyone--”
“That’s another thing, there has never been a shortage of stupid people, not now not then,” she girded, “those women who get tied up in that club, their lives are already done.”
You frowned and hid your phone in your pocket as you stood. You rubbed your neck and picked up your empty mug, “I should get started.”
“Mmm,” she said as she dialed the phone again, “I wonder if Fran knows yet.”
You were being really fucking stupid but peer pressure was not a logical thing. Even through a screen, you found it hard to resist the goads. So there you were, your phone in your hand as you live-streamed your walk down to The Asp. The data costs alone would make you regret it but you were caught up in the hype of you fifteen second of internet fame.
“Alright,” you stopped across the street and gave a view of the moniker with Cleopatra sultrily looking down at you, “this is it… I just gotta play it cool…” you turned the lens towards you and smiled nervously, “hopefully that dude at the front doesn’t stop me.”
Comments flicked up the bottom of the screen so fast and smilies and hearts floated up the side around your face. You crossed the screen as you turned your phone against your coat and approached the bar door. The large biker butted out his smoke and you bared your teeth nervously. He didn’t stop you as he rolled his shoulders and coughed.
You entered to the noise of classic rock and low voices, the clink of glasses and tap of chalk on marble. You glanced around and quickly swept your phone around to give a view of the patrons. You hurried over to the bar and climbed up on a stool.
“You need a drink?” the woman behind the bar scowled. She looked worn out even with her lips painted bright pink and her eyes clouded with blue shadow.
“Uh, sure, can I… can I get one pint of everything you have on tap?” you asked as you set your phone down and shrugged out of your coat. You draped it over the next stool and reposition your phone as you flipped the cam and used the built in stand on the case to angle yourself onto the screen.
“Sure,” she narrowed her eyes and glanced past you.
You swung your feet as you waited for her to pour the five pints; some with too much foam and the others with no head at all. You took the first and held it up for the camera.
“A classic, BudLight,” you held it up to the light, “no head and…” you sipped, “flat.” You plunked it down and coughed as you grabbed the next, “this is a raddler?” you looked at the tap for confirmation, “grapefruit… smells like piss…” you had a sip, “tastes like it too.”
You chuckled to yourself and asked for a water. You made a show of swishing it around in your mouth before you moved onto the third beer.
“Had to cleanse the palate,” you joked, “now… lots of foam on this one, dark. You know, I’m pretty surprised they have Guinness here but let’s see…” you tasted it and crinkled your nose, “that’s it. Exactly like toilet water!”
You read some of the comments telling you to check the bottles for bugs and laughed. Suddenly you were yanked off the stool by the back of your shirt and your phone was swiped up by another man as the first restrained you. You struggled against his thick arm as it hooked around your neck and the leader of their crew stared at the screen of your cell.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he hit the screen with his thumb but the stream kept going. He dropped the phone to the floor and stomped it instead.
“This is the bitch posting about us online,” the man at your back growled. It was Steve, the one with the weird walk.
“I doubt either of you know how to use a computer,” you scoffed, “hey, let me go.”
“And why would we do that when you’re snitching to the whole world, sweetheart?” Bucky kicked your phone away as he crossed his arms.
“Actually, I’m--” you grasped Steve’s arm as it threatened to get tighter, “--promoting your trash business. I was just having a tasting, if you had just asked--”
“Shut up!” Bucky stepped closer and brought your legs up and stopped him as you planted your feet against his stomach.
“Hey,” a woman’s voice came from behind the bar as the waitress shoved aside her empty tray, “hey, she’s just a kid.”
“Bullshit,” Bucky huffed, “she looks full-grown to me.”
“So what are you gonna do?” she said, “she’s young. You can’t--”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he snapped.
“She’s right,” another voice intoned and that man, Sam, came up beside them with a pool cue in hand, “she’s just goofing around.”
“She’s a rat,” Steve insisted.
“You’re being dramatic. It’s called a meme and you do walk a little strange,” he chuckled, “no one’s gonna follow her breadcrumbs back to this shithole anyway.”
Bucky considered Sam and then looked at Steve. He poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth.
“So… you vouching for her?” Bucky asked.
“She won’t cause any more trouble, promise,” Sam said, “I’ll make sure of it.”
“You better,” Bucky snapped his fingers and you were released, “get her out of here.”
Between Fifth And You
It’s Saturday night for Manhattan’s elite, and we know what that means. The Noble House of Black beckons, and one particularly family seems to be a little behind on preparations—at least, their youngest son is.
Spotted—Logan Tremblay, looking hot in nothing but basketball shorts. Better soak up that fading blue August heat while you can, Lo. Or are you more interested in something a little more…fiery? But in the LES? Why so far from home, Dorothy? Eye color isn’t the only thing green about the Tremblay family. And they have a bad habit of sorting everything out with a little help from Ben Franklin.
Logan pivoted on his heel and was able to toss the ball around his opponent’s shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of red hair as Finn caught it with ease and jumped it up to the rim.
Finn O’Hara. One of these days Logan was going to step on his own shoes watching Finn O’Hara. His pale chest looked like sugar dusting, his exertion-red cheeks the goddamn cherry.
“Point moo-oi!” Finn shouted, slapping Will Morgan and Percy Marshall on their bare backs. “That’s how you say it, right, Tremblay?”
Logan feigned a shudder. “Non.”
“Shorty’s got game,” Will laughed, sweat dripping down his dark brown skin, darkening the leather bracelets he wore.
Percy shook his head, swallowing over a caught-breath, his silver Star of David swinging at his throat. “Shorty must be cheating with his Upper Side shoes.”
Logan just narrowed his eyes and laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just tall. Doesn’t mean you’re good.”
“Yeah, yeah, Mazel tov, you fucker.”
“I’m finally winning,” Finn grinned. “And now I gotta get back to the shop. I said be back in five…pretty sure it’s been fifty-five.”
Logan swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll walk you.”
Percy slapped him on the back as they left, and Finn held the cage door of the basketball court open for him.
“So, you’re back at school?” Finn asked as he pulled his shirt on. Logan nodded, following suit, picking at the neck where it stuck to his sweaty skin.
“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I’m supposed to be getting fitted for a suit right now.”
Finn snorted. “What does that have to do with school?”
“Oh,” the corner of Logan’s mouth raised as he realized. “Nothing, I…well, you know. The social scene. It sort of all feels like one thing, up there.”
Finn pouted at him. “Poor baby. Too many parties.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Logan laughed.
“Hey, feel like lunch?”
“I thought you had to be back.”
Finn shrugged. “I’m hungry.”
Logan bit his lip, wondering how many different ways his older sisters could actually kill him. Honestly, he thought he’d just die on the spot of he passed up the change to be squeezed into one of the small restaurants that Finn frequented. Screw the grand tables of his life. Logan wanted cracked leather booths small enough to let their ankles brush. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.
Finn didn’t disappoint. They walked down the shade of Mott street, then turned at a bakeshop on the corner. Finn pointed at it.
“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”
Logan raised a shoulder. “I don’t get down here much.”
Finn snorted. “Listen to you. Down here. You’re down here enough to pop into my bookstore all the time.”
Logan studied the cakes in the windows, biting his lip when he realized Finn’s eyes were still on him in the reflection. “I…yeah.”
Finn flicked the bill of Logan’s hat which shaded the back of his neck. “How’s that latest book you bought?”
Logan turned away from the window to get them walking again, not sure where they were going but trusting Finn to lead. “I’m starting school, man, I don’t have all the time in the world.”
Finn just laughed. “Come on, let’s catch the 6.”
Logan found himself squeezed into a tiny French restaurant in the West Village that served them even tinier croissants.
“I know the chef,” Finn said popping one he had spread jam and butter on into his mouth. “Dumo. Don’t pay a cent. I fucking love these things.”
Logan would have bought Finn a thousand of the tiny pastries without a blink just to see him lick a bit of jam from his thumb again.
“Dumo doesn’t sound very French…” Logan began cutting up his waffle.
Finn laughed. “Pascal Dumais does.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s more like it.”
Logan glanced at a woman and her baby, who had started crying. He tried to think of something to say. For someone who’s job seemed to be making small talk at various parties and charming people with his accent—or so his mother sometimes said—he sure was horrible at it.
“So, what’s the suit for?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his black coffee.
“A fashion show,” Logan sighed, hiding his surprise—and maybe delight—at Finn’s unknowing shrug. “It’s…sort of a lot. Lots of people and cameras. And I always have to wear something green.”
Finn hummed in understanding. “It’s the eyes, yeah?”
Logan nodded. “A lot of fast English, too.”
Finn tilted his head. “I didn’t know that was hard for you. You’re perfect.”
Logan tried not to flush and covered it with a shrug. “I lived in France until I was fifteen before we finally moved to my dad. It’s still nice to be able to read lips sometimes. With the flashes and they make it super dark…I don’t know.”
“No, that makes sense,” Finn said, brown eyes soft. He smiled. “Hey, well, if you don’t want to go to the fitting, come man the shop with me. I’d love the company.”
Logan looked at him and ached, but saw his older sister Noelle’s pleading, excited expression in his mind. He might not love the scene, but he loved his sisters. “I wish I could. Really.”
They finished up their food and Logan had to admit that he lingered over his coffee until Finn said he absolutely had to leave.
“Hey, Tremblay,” Finn called from down the sidewalk, and Logan turned in the full knowledge that seeing the smile Finn sent him would only make him want to stay more.
The dutiful son wants the bookshop boy…I don’t know, Lo. How will their royal highnesses feel about that?
“Come buy more books you don’t read soon, okay?”
Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “D’accord.”
Finn walked backwards a few steps, yelling, “And bring me something green!” before turning and jogging down the subway stairs.
Logan laughed as he called his driver to him, escaping the heat for air conditioned leather.
Pearls or diamonds, Upper Siders? Armani or Ralph? What, like you have other questions tonight?
Well, I have one for you. A tip from a friendly scroller gave me a peak at tonight’s guest list. Do you think we’re in for more than just a showdown on the runway? Cat fights over cat walks is what I always say.
[Image description: Two name cards reading, from left to right, Leo Knut and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Sebastian Montague]
Remus found Julian already dressed and tapping at a game on his phone when he descended the winding staircase of their penthouse.
“You waiting for mom and dad?” Remus said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.
“And you,” Julian said.
“Right, right,” Remus smoothed his black tuxedo, trying to ignore the subtle glint of blue-silver embroidered into the black velvet. His mother was a planner—which Remus liked usually—but this design had not aged well. This suit had a twin that it no longer belonged with. Remus clenched his jaw as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d hoped wearing it would feel like defiance.
But it only felt like he was lonely. He gave his head a hard shake. He had Leo. He couldn’t let New York throw him.
“Gossip Girl’s going crazy. Of course,” Julian said.
“Jules, you shouldn’t read that stuff,” Remus sighed. “It’s just gossip—”
“Just posted about Sirius,” Julian murmured.
Remus huffed, pushing his hair out of its too neat style in the mirror. “So?”
Julian shrugged, but pointedly looked away when Remus took out his own phone.
The photo looked like one from the paparazzi, but the sight of Sirius on the red carpet made Remus’ throat close up.
I spy a statement piece. Or maybe it’s just a statement. Sirius Black arrives on the red carpet—or should I say black carpet—with none other than New York’s favorite icon, in worship and fashion alike. The Saint of these streets is looking particularly dashing tonight, hand in hand with the heir of this city. Ouch, Re. Looks like you’ve been dethroned.
Remus stared down at the screen, neck hot. Sirius’ suit sleeves had the barely there leather half moon cut-outs that Remus remembered tracing onto his skin.
Sirius had smiled into their kiss. Think anyone will notice?
Remus had just laughed. Everyone will notice.
But there was Saint, a crown of moonstones in his golden hair.
Remus looked down at his own suit. Of course Saint had thought of a way they’d match, that was all it was, but it still felt like a snub.
“I sort of miss him,” Julian said quietly.
Remus’ heart pulled. He swallowed and clicked his phone off. He looked at Julian, who looked almost sheepish.
“Do you?” Julian asked even more quietly.
“Don’t you like Leo?” Remus asked.
“Of course,” Julian nodded quickly. “But…”
“Remus,” Hope smiled, coming down the stairs arm-in-arm with their father. “Jules. Ready, boys?”
Remus didn’t think saying no was an option. He cleared his throat, pushed his hair back.
“Almost,” he said, backtracking towards the stairs. “Just a second. Gotta call Leo, make sure he hasn’t left yet.”
“We can watch a livestream of the red carpet and the show,” Natalie said. “Sit.”
Finn groaned, squished beside Natalie on her tiny sofa. “That feels like I’m stalking him.”
“We’re allowed to stalk the boys we like.”
“You’re dating my brother, Nat. Does this mean you stalked him?”
“It really does,” Alex said, coming in from the kitchen with their margaritas and dropping a kiss to Natalie’s temple.
“Hm,” Natalie smiled up at him, accepting a kiss to her lips. “Scruffy.”
Finn sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest, watching the loading video Natalie had pulled up.
“Your wifi sucks,” he mumbled.
“It’ll load,” Natalie scooted over for Alex and passed Finn his drink.
“Salsa, too,” Finn said, waving it over.
Finally, the video popped up to a view of the red carpet.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex said.
“Be nice,” Natalie laughed. “It’s fashion!”
“Look,” Alex sighed. “I know they’re wealthy and it’s suppose to be all, I don’t know sandy beaches and wristwatches, but not a single one of these people look remotely happy. Like take a look at this guy—“
Finn looked over the sandy-haired man posing in front of the cameras—well, not posing, really. Kasey Winter, the commentators were saying.
“Nice hair,” Natalie crunched on a chip. “And listen to that, his mother’s one of the biggest producers at Weird Sisters Records.”
“Fine, but he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. I mean, anyone else think its kind of fucked up that the New York families go to a New York university where New York businesses draw from New York’s elite?”
“Yes,” Finn and Natalie said in unison.
And then there was Logan.
Finn let out an embarrassing sound and set his drink down, leaning forward.
Logan walked out in front of the cameras with three girls—his sisters, Finn remembered. Not to mention he followed all of them on Instagram. They had a lot of shoes, sure, but they seemed all right.
“I saw this thing on Gossip Girl about one of the sisters,” Natalie said. “She—”
“Nat, why the hell do you read that?”
Natalie shot him a look. “Like you don’t.”
Finn ignored them, too focused on the dark, nearly black, velvety green cape—or was it cloak?—that covered Logan’s shoulders down to above his elbows, falling to an elegant point at the small of his back over his black suit. The sisters had a similar get-up in one way or another—a green train, a shawl, a corset. Logan’s clasp was a silver fleur-de-lis.
“Green,” Finn breathed.
“What?” Alex asked.
Finn bit the inside of his cheek at Logan’s expression. It was meant to be blank, Finn thought, at-ease and untouchable, but it came off almost enticing. His dark eyelashes swept against his cheeks. Finn watched his throat bob around a swallow, his adored eyes shifting from flash to flash.
“Nothing,” Finn answered his brother.
“How’d you meet this kid anyway, Fish?” his brother asked.
“I was closing up shop about a month ago,” Finn said. “And he stopped at one of our windows. Looked like he’d run the entire island, he was breathing so hard. Not to mention it was pouring like nothing else. Thought he was gonna pass out, so I unlocked the door and let him in to get dry. I don’t know, he was kind of shy at first. Listened to me talk for about an hour before he started giving anything back.” Finn shrugged, watching Logan walk off screen. “I invite him to play basketball with me, Morg, and Percy now. We get lunch after sometimes.”
Natalie sighed. “He looked like one unhappy camper.”
“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him. He’s the baby. Only son. All that bullshit.”
“I kind of want that cape,” Natalie said.
Alex sighed. “That’s the idea.”
Natalie slapped his chest, then kissed his cheek, and Finn watched Logan walk off-screen.
“What say you, Capulet?”
Sirius looked down at Saint at his shoulder. “They’re out of crab puffs.”
“Boo,” Saint said. “You still closing the show?”
“Shouldn’t you be in hair and makeup?”
Saint stepped in front of him, the gold band of moonstones nestled in his curls glinting in the dark stage lights. “Looking for someone?”
Sirius just reached out and ran a gentle thumbnail beneath where Saint’s golden eyeliner had smudged against his brown skin, striking it back to a point. “Nope. See you after the show.”
Saint clucked his tongue. “I’m unimpressed.”
“What else is new?” Sirius said.
Saint went to smile, when his eyes flickered behind Sirius and he raised his eyebrows. “That.”
Sirius turned around, and quickly schooled his expression. The cameras were going wild, and in front of all the flashing lights was Remus, hand-in-hand with Leo Knut.
“They make a sunshine pair,” Saint said from beside him. “How’re you feeling?”
Sirius touched two fingers to one of the black-leather moons on his jacket sleeve. They were meant to go with Remus’ stars. He remembered planning for them. He’d thought…part of him had thought if he’d worn them tonight—
“Cloudy sky,” he replied to Saint.
“I was gonna say dappled sunlight in…” Saint glanced around. “A dark forest.”
Remus and Leo were wearing dress shirts, collars rumpled and unbuttoned at their throats, each in a smooth shade of cream. Their hands, decked out in golden rings, were laced together, and they both wore pale gray slacks, slim cut, and laceless nikes.
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…hmm, but don’t I spy some burning jealous?
“What are we going for here,” Saint raised an eyebrow. “Left in a hurry and didn’t get the dress code?”
“We’re going against me,” Sirius replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and trying to stand straight. “That’s all.”
“Sunlight in a dark forest, indeed.”
Sirius watched them looking out over the flashes, and tried not to look surprised when golden eyes met his own. Remus’ expression didn’t change either. Instead, he simply blinked, then looked away. Leo, tall and lean, leaned into his ear, and Remus smiled. The cameras popped like champagne.
I love right here, Sirius remembered his own voice, the feeling of the soft skin by Remus’ eye beneath his thumb. I love right here when you smile.
“I need to get backstage,” Sirius said shortly, and turned on his heel.
“I’ll be watching.”
“Don’t I know,” Sirius called as he weaved his way through the crowd, heading backstage. The woman with a radio in her ear looked annoyed and nervous when he slipped past her, and radioed that he had arrived to whoever it was that needed to know.
“Sirius!” Alice called, hands full of makeup brushes and up in the air. “Jesus Christ, do you think I have all fucking night?”
Sirius shrugged out of his red carpet jacket—which someone took—and slid into her chair. “Sorry, Al.”
She twirled a protective cape around his shoulders, snapping it at the base of his neck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. But then again, I think everyone’s pretty.”
Sirius closed his eyes, letting her begin. “People are.”
Alice had just finished contour when Sirius all but felt his mother’s presence. A shift in the air. A cooler wind. People standing up straighter and shivering.
“Sirius,” his mother’s face appeared in the mirror. Her red lipstick was the brightest thing about her, and even that was almost mauve. Her dress was tight around her breasts, but cascaded in thick waves of velvet behind her, and she wore tall leather boots. It almost looked like armor. “You’re very late, darling.”
“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Saint and I got caught up in the crowd, I guess.”
She hummed. “You two looked fetching out there. He’s much more pleasing than that other boy ever was. His family is important, too.”
It was true, that his mother had never liked Remus much. Though, Sirius couldn’t compare him and Saint. They were two different oceans.
“Get dressed,” his mother breathed, and was already snapping her fingers at one of the other models before Sirius could say another word.
“All right?” Alice asked him quietly.
Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. Her contour made his face look almost gaunt, as was the general makeup for all of the models, and he knew he’d be given dark eye makeup next, his hair fluffed into perfect curls.
“Fine,” Sirius said, and closed his eyes to let her work.
Sirius was shrugging into his given outfit—a billowing longcoat, 20th century in fashion, and a longer tunic made almost entirely of the thinnest black silk. It would shimmer when he walked, he knew, and his tall, lace-up boots, the flat sole so thin and delicate that he almost felt barefoot, would disappear beneath the shimmer. His mother was cold, stubborn, and cruel sometimes, an unfeeling, yawning sort of dark, but she was talented.
“Lord Vader,” came a voice from behind him, and Sirius laughed even before he turned to face Thomas Walker.
“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, and they clasped hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug. “You look fantastic, though.”
Thomas spun slowly on his heel, letting the long, loose fitting white linen of his button-down—which went out in two, tuxedo-like tails at his back—flare out above his slim, black trousers. He wore a thin scarf of distressed wool.
“Like a fallen gentleman, no?” Thomas grinned. “I might try and steal these pants. And maybe the shirt for Noelle.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sirius smiled, spying Noelle’s green eyes behind his shoulder. “She’ll love that.”
Noelle wrapped her arms, which were draped in a transparent green cloth, around Thomas’ waist. “Thanks for thinking of me, T baby.”
Thomas laughed in surprise. “Who let you back stage?”
“I’m a Tremblay, they’ll let us in anywhere.”
Thomas turned his head to capture Noelle in a soft kiss.
“See you after, hm?” Noelle said. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend, she’s walking tonight, too.”
“Yeah, we’ll ride to Honeyduke’s together.”
Noelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You coming, Black?”
“Saint all but owns the place,” Sirius said. “Of course I am.”
Sirius walked. He didn’t look down, or hear the cameras. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, to be up here, not able to see past the lights—but something tonight was different. It felt as it had the night of his and Remus’ first kiss.
In that show, he had had one, thin line of black lipstick traced over the center of his bottom lip. It had marked Remus’ throat and cheeks like soot by the end of it all.
Remus had been waiting for him back stage.
“Come here,” Remus had whispered, and laced their fingers together.
“Where?” Sirius had answered, surprised by their palms pressing together.
But it hadn’t been a place. Remus had pressed them back in between clothing racks, and crashed their mouths together.
Here, Remus had whispered, and kissed him again.
Sirius felt the absence of the stage lights like a wash of cold air, and he stretched out his back, letting his stony face drop a little. He glanced around, but there was no one to be found. His cheeks were warm just thinking about it.
“Good,” his mother said as he passed her by to take off the makeup, and that was all.
Saint looked across Honeyduke’s and felt like it was his. Logan was laughing with Thomas and Noelle, and he had Kasey Winter beside him, securing tickets to one of their favorite bands to see together.
“Done,” Kasey said, and flashed one of his rare smiles.
“I knew you were my favorite,” Saint took a sip of his drink, and Kasey scoffed.
“Me or my mom?”
“Maybe a little of both. Oh, and we’re going to sushi beforehand.”
Kasey’s smile was larger now. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You gonna leave with that drummer again? What’s her name?”
Saint smiled. “Oh, Sally. And I make it a habit to always leave with the drummer.”
Kasey just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a drink and leaving you to your one-liners.”
Saint watched him go, feeling settled, and set about scanning the room for Sirius. He was sure he’d know if he was there—people tended to swarm to Sirius, even if he didn’t ask for it. It was part of the reason they were so close. People flocked to Saint, too. So, they asked for each other’s company. A more intimate, calm part of life. Sirius was quiet. Saint wasn’t, but he let Saint , for a moment, be that way, too. Saint was loud. Sirius wasn’t, but Saint had his ways to fire him up.
“Another drink, sir?”
Saint looked over his shoulder, only to turn all the way around, interest peaked. The bartender had sandy hair, and a strong jaw, his cheeks textured by acne scars in some places. He had brown eyes—save for a sliver of green in one.
“Only if you have one with me,” Saint said, and glanced down at his name-tag. “Luke.”
Luke arched an eyebrow, pressing the heels of his palms onto the bar between them, revealing rolled up sleeves and some type of vine tattoo, wrapping all around both of his forearms.
“I’m working, sir.”
“Is that a later?” he nodded at the tattoo. “Nice.”
“I don’t think so,” Luke said.
Luke scowled—how did he look so handsome doing that?
“Do you make it a habit to go home with all the waiters, too?”
Saint didn’t let his expression flicker, just smiled nice and slow.
“Hillrock,” Saint said. “Neat.”
The barkeep turned away.
Ouch. Looks like not everyone worships at your alter, Saint.
The elevator doors opened, revealing the party to Sirius one outfit after the next. He had changed for the afterparty—the first of three. He wore a tight, thin black t-shirt and dark jeans. He hadn’t bothered to wash off the dark, smudged eyeliner from the show. His combat boots went up to just below his knee, and had the same nearly naked feeling sole. It made him feel soundless, like a shadow.
Maybe that’s why it was easy to find Remus and stand beside him without him stirring.
“You’re a little underdressed,” Sirius said without looking at him.
“Says the boy wearing a t-shirt,” Remus replied evenly.
Sirius scowled. “I meant at the show.”
“People like to be surprised,” Remus replied evenly.
Sirius turned towards him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”
Remus matched him. They were nearly chest to chest. “You didn’t say a word to me in class.”
“I had the last word,” Remus snapped. “I figured maybe you’d finally have something to say back.”
Sirius stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, he let himself look. At the golden eyes, hair more blond than ever from the summer’s sun. Sirius couldn’t stand that mouth set in a frown.
“Guess not,” Remus said softly, lips dropping open in the way they used to before they kissed.
Sirius all but felt him vanish into the writhing crowd.
Finn looked up when a flash of color on the morning-silent street outside caught his eye. He set the books he was holding down, took the pen out from between his teeth.
“What the hell?” Finn laughed as he pulled open the door to his bookshop to find Logan standing there. “It’s five in the fucking morning, what are you doing here? Couldn’t sleep?”
“Never did,” Logan said, and that’s when Finn saw that Logan was still in his suit from the livestream.
“Ah, I see,” Finn said, eyes flicking up and down his broad form. He swallowed dryly. “The nature of afterparties, I suppose. Well, you—you look good. For someone who’s been up all night, I mean.”
Logan just smiled, one of his small, secretive ones. Finn watched as he stepped forward so they were almost toe to toe in the doorway.
“Wh…” Finn’s voice dropped off with a breathless laugh. He couldn’t help but look at Logan’s mouth. His full lips that could speak a language Finn couldn’t even begin to describe.
Logan just reached up to the base of his own throat and unclipped the fleur-de-lis clasp there. In one smooth swoop, he drew his short cloak from his shoulders and around Finn’s, right over his worn gray t-shirt, clicking it in place. The fabric brought a gentle scent, and he figured it must be Logan’s cologne.
“Something green,” Logan said softly. A warm, early morning breeze ruffled his hair, pushing the curls forward. Finn couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”
“Inventory,” Finn whispered, then cleared his throat. “Inventory.”
“Okay,” Logan said. “I’ll help.”
Dear HIM/Ville Valo fans,
this is a long post but I must discuss this.
I came across this interview of Kat Von D from a few days ago. Before I get into my thoughts, below is a passage from her old book “Go Big or Go Home” which you may or may not have read. She wrote about Ville:
“I only knew his music, and I loved it on first listen. It was dark and it was beautiful. It was metal and it was poetry. It was love loaded into a gun, and I wondered about the man behind the songs. Two years later, our paths crossed, and like the majority of the connections I’ve made in life, tattooing brought us together. Through our first tattoo sessions, we began to get to know each other. For the next few years, I just thought of him as my friend from overseas, and that was all. Then, after knowing him for six years, something changed. It could have been the wine, the music, or the moon. Most likely it was just perfect timing. Just one kiss, and he changed my world. We were both sad back then, and lost. I was depressed, having finally ended a marriage that had been doomed from the beginning. I was also dealing with the pressures of filming a television show, which was totally new to me - and drinking my way blindly through it all. His story mirrored mine, and he had been feeling just as low. We had been waiting for something to happen, for someone or something to come along and save us from ourselves. And when it suddenly seemed that that someone was each other, it took us both by surprise. We shared darkness, and doing that bought light back into our somber worlds: for once, we didn’t feel alone.He’s the reason why I wanted to write music to begin with - and learn to sing. I remember the exact moment I made up my mind about making music. It was something I felt I needed to do, not for any reason other than a way to respond to him. It didn’t matter if the songs I’d write never saw the light of day, as long as he was able to listen to my music, my message to him. He had told me to look for a package at my door step, prefacing the delivery of the contents, his new album, saying, “These are all of the things that are easier sung than said.”I knew what he meant, but never imagined that each song would be filled with direct messages to me. I put the album on, and the music rushed out of the speakers and filled my house. His voice rang all around, making it’s way to the core of my heart with every word he sang. As cryptic as those lyrics may have been for anyone else, I knew exactly what each word meant and recognized every event and place he referred to. The songs were so beautiful, I just wished so badly that he could have said everything out loud just once to me. How should I respond to something like this? Where do I even start?The first time I saw him after I got sober, he was in town working on music. We sat in my office at the shop until the late hours of the night, talking and catching up about everything - music, home, art and work. Did we talk about love? No. We constantly danced around our past instead. What happened to us? I couldn’t find the courage to ask because I was scared of the answer I already knew. We decided to draw, with pencils and paper in front of us, we sat at opposite ends of the table. He pulled my three-minute timer from one of the nearby shelves, and placed it at the center of the table. He suggested we draw each other, and I was game. With a flip of the hourglass, the grains of sand moved from one vessel to the other, and we began.Sketching these timed portraits forced us to stare at each other, making it practically impossible to focus on the drawing itself. I had almost forgotten how beautiful his face was. He has a combination of eyes, lips, and a darkness to his looks that makes him look almost otherworldly. With him, I felt like I was at the center of an orderly, tranquil, magnificent universe. For those short three minutes, there were no questions about life or purpose. It was as if we never needed any more from each other than this.Like all people, I’ve suffered from love sickness and tasted the pain of love. The theatrical director of my mind, the one who staged all these versions of him and my life with him, seemed to be unaffected by reason. I was finding myself constantly day dreaming of the past.His eyes, his hands, his crooked smile - I’d ruminate over his features. Things he said. Things he did. Things he wrote. Things he drew. Things he sang. Over and over again, I’d sift through these images and memories as if they somehow contained the answer to my prayers. But I was living with a long-age memory of him; living so far away from the present moment.If we had spoken about what we were or what we thought we were, back when we got sober, I wouldn’t have been so confused, wandering what if, and writing the rest of our story in my mind. What did I expect? For him to magically not hear about me being in a relationship? And to not be bothered by it? If only he would have asked….. I would have….. If we could have only talked….. then things would be….. if we allowed ourselves to transform our fears of being open, vulnerable, then, I’d convince myself, we would be together. I realized that none of that mattered now. If I wanted to be free of this unrequited longing, I would have to make peace with the past and finally let it go. There was no way around it. But did I want to be free of it? - and him?I listened to one of his songs the other day. Out of all the songs he wrote on that album, this one was the most direct. He sings my name in the chorus. By the time the song is over, I’ve felt a range of emotions - I’m sad but happy, frustrated but calm. He sings about how I alone bring him to a place of stillness and peace within when we are together. What a victorious feeling - to enter into a place with him where no one else has been. To be able to bring goodness to and draw it out of someone. Those sweet thoughts were interrupted by an e-mail from him. Impeccable timing as always. It’s just a short note, letting me now he’s somewhere out there, thinking of me. He ends the message by calling me “Star Face” - his pet name for me from long ago that no one else uses. At that moment, I loathe him for it. I loathe him because I love him. Sometimes it feels like it would be so much easier to walk away from this if he’d just tell me that he hates me, that he wants nothing to do with me. But instead he calls me “Star Face.” There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not letting go, either.‘Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.’The silver plane hurtled over Newfoundland, over the Labrador sea. Someone told me I might see the northern lights as I fly east and north, but I wouldn’t have noticed as I was deep in writing the letter that I had already mentally composed long before I decided to make this trip to see him over New Year’s Day. I didn’t have to edit myself this time, I knew exactly what the letter would say.I reread the note to myself before sealing the envelope. Then I drew out the first letter of his name in pencil on the front. What a beautiful letter it was, probably my favorite out of the entire alphabet. A letter I was so used to writing myself. With ease the swirls and curves of each arch seemed to flow from my heart, my mind’s eye, drawn in and through my arms to my hands, releasing themselves onto the pale ivory paper envelope. My plane landed soon after.I had missed this country, I had missed him, too. I wondered how time had treated him ,for it had been a few years since I had last seen him. I wondered if I still had the ability to quiet his heart when he was feeling manic. He always said I had a way of doing that when I was near. And I wondered if he even needed me in that way anymore.When we met up, he looked just as beautiful as the day we saw each other for the first time, almost ten years before. And as if no time had passed, we started right where we left off - hours flew by in the comfort of each other’s presence. Talking. Catching up.He asked if I was getting sleepy, and my attempt at concealing the tiredness was transparent. I looked at the clock; maybe it was the jet lag or the clock hands pointing to midnight, but I knew it was time to say good-bye. Reluctantly, we both stood up and tried our best to part ways. As good as it felt to be near him again, I gave him the letter I had written letting him know that I was letting the nation of us go. He took the sealed envelope, and then I watched him walk away for what I assumed would be the last time.My heart didn’t belong locked up in a tower across the ocean from my home. It belonged in my chest, beating, living, feeling, sometimes hurting, but always loving. I deserved to be free, and understanding and needing that more than a dream, I was finally able to let him go.”
Now, let me start by saying, I’ve never understood this and I still don’t. I’ve had that passage saved in my drafts for years because I keep almost anything pertaining to Ville.
I’ve been a HIM fan since I was about 15 years old, and have followed Ville’s life and work closely. The friendship between them was always apparent to HIM fans in those days, because we saw her in photos with the band often. I used to watch Miami Ink and LA Ink as regularly as pretty much anyone in those days, and I remember when this particular passage of her book was brought to light, the HIM fan base read it and we all had our thoughts. We were all aware of Screamworks being written about Kat (it’s obvious in the lyrics of the album) even though Ville never specifically said Kat’s name when asked about it in interviews.
I remember being baffled back when we as HIM fans discovered this passage from the book. I couldn’t imagine not making that relationship work if it was true love. I’m a bit biased because I adore Ville and he’s like a dream to me, but I just couldn’t understand it. It seemed like she took the relationship for granted or she didn’t love him enough to make it work; but I digress. I get it; love and relationships are complex.
Still, flash forward to this recent interview (the screenshot), she says it was unrequited love, and I’m still not understanding it. Why release all the songs now? Why didn’t she make it work if it was true love? Who is she trying to say was the one not reciprocating (as the word “unrequited” suggests) in the relationship? I don’t understand any of it. More than anything, I’ve had so many questions that I wish I could ask Ville about it all because he only spoke briefly about it all, and it was always rather cryptic.
I’m only writing this as a HIM fan, and because I love Ville and his lyrics on Screamworks so, so much (it’s an extremely underrated album in the HIM discography, in my opinion) so I’m letting any fellow HIM lovers know she wrote an album in response to it, in case you’re interested. I haven’t followed Kat or her work in many years, so I don’t know what to make of all this, but it’s always been extremely apparent to me when listening to Screamworks that a lot of heart went into it and even pain, not that his lyrics on other albums aren’t like that too, but I felt it more on Screamworks. I feel that Ville was the one who was truly heartbroken.
You all probably know from following my blog that I’m obsessed with love and unrequited love. Any romantic stories, bittersweet letters, heartbreak, longing etc. is just my favorite thing in the world so please excuse the long post, haha.
Diamonds and Rust - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)
Summary: It’s been six years since you left it all behind; the Van Der Linde gang, the outlaw life and Arthur Morgan. Since then you’ve gone straight, becoming a rancher and a wife. What will happen to all of it when Arthur comes bursting back into your life, bringing with him all the feelings and desires the two of you once shared?
Warnings: smut, female reader, pregnancy.
A/N: I’m very, very proud of this fic and I really hope you guys like it as much as I do. I wrote the entire thing in basically one sitting (blame it on excitement and inspiration). The idea came to me after listening to Joan Baez’s song Diamonds and Rust (and that is of course where the title comes from). Give it a listen, it’s a beautiful song! If you prefer, you can read it on AO3 here.
Well, I'll be damned, here comes your ghost again - Diamonds and Rust
You knew he was around as soon as you heard about a big group of people, men, women and children, passing on wagons through your town. The shopkeeper in the general store said that the group looked like bad news, the look with which they eyed everything and everyone belonging only to people who were running from something. On another day, you were at the train station, posting a letter, when you heard one of the postal workers say the name “Tacitus Kilgore” while rummaging through a bin. That sealed the deal for you, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he found you.
For the next few days you couldn't do anything but wait, expecting him to barge back into your life at any moment. Your husband noticed your absent-mindness, and tried to inquire, but you waved him away, blaming your mood on overworking.
Your husband didn’t know your past. You told him that you ran away from home when a group of outlaws attacked your house, killing your parents and stealing anything worth selling. That wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. What you omitted to mention was that later when you had nowhere to go, another group of outlaws found you, took you in and became your new family. You spent the next few years with them, moving from place to place, robbing, killing, and stealing. It was there that you fell in love for the first time.
Shortly after you joined the gang, you and Arthur became a great team, and later on, a strong couple. As the time went on though, you realized that you couldn’t live on the run forever; you wanted a family, a stable life, a house with a kitchen and a bath. You shared your feelings with Arthur, and he promised you that everything would change, that the two of you would run away, to Mexico, or maybe California, and start a new life. The new life was always at the end of “one last score,” which never seemed to come.
After yet another similar conversation, you realized that if you didn’t leave at that moment, you never would. The moonlight casted its light on Arthur’s sleeping face as you looked at him one last time, burning the image of him into your memory. Without turning back, you mounted your horse and left.
Although seeming asleep, Arthur was awake the entire time. He felt you leave the cot, stand next to it for a few minutes and then leave. He heard the hoofbeats in the quiet night, becoming softer and softer until they completely disappeared. He wanted to go after you, bring you back, but he realized it would be selfish. What you wanted, what you deserved, he couldn’t give.
It's been a week since you heard the name “Tacitus Kilgore” in the post office, and Arthur still hasn't shown. You let yourself relax, thinking that maybe it wasn’t him in the first place, or maybe he has forgotten about you. It’s been six years after all.
Few days later, your husband had to go take care of his mother couple of towns over. He asked if you wanted to go with him, but you declined; someone had to stay and take care of the ranch, protect it from cattle rustlers and wild animals.
You helped him load up the wagon, making sure to pack extra clothes and food for the trip. You kissed him, the kiss being longer than what was necessary for a trip that would probably take only three days at most.
The wagon disappeared in the tall trees as you stood at the entrance of your ranch, waving your hand until there was no one to wave to. The cold, fresh morning air filled your lungs as you took a big gulp of it. You turned on your heels, heading back inside and preparing for a day of work.
Your day was mostly spent tending to the cattle and cleaning up. When the sun started to set, painting the sky a mix of purple and red, you went into the main house and prepared dinner. You pushed the food around on the plate. The suffocating emptiness of the house made you once again think about expanding your family. The time was perfect; the ranch was making money and the house was the right size with two extra rooms sitting unoccupied and being used for storage. But, it seemed that it wasn’t for you to decide; you and your husband have been trying for months now, yet nothing was happening.
Trying to muffle the thoughts in your head, you got up from the table and took your plate to the sink, leaving it there to be cleaned tomorrow.
The cotton nightgown felt cool on your skin as you changed into it. The oil lamp on your bedside table was just bright enough to illuminate the clock on the wall, indicating that it was far past your bedtime, and if you wanted to get anything done tomorrow, you should go to bed right away. You sighted, getting ready to go under the covers when you heard a knock on the front door, as sudden as thunder on a sunny day. You froze, your body trying to decide whether to fight or flee. You carefully left your bedroom, mentally cursing when the floorboard creaked under your feet as you inched closer to the front door. Another knock came. Your eyes flew to the shotgun by the door. Your breath came out shaky as you were preparing to grab it, open the door and shoot straight through whoever it was.
And then you heard it, his voice saying your name. You felt like you were drenched in cold water, six years worth of bottled up emotions and feelings flooding straight through you. Without thinking, you opened the door, meeting face to face with his blue eyes.
The only thing illuminating the living room and the two of you was the fire from the fireplace. You could feel the heat from it kissing your bare arms. You went into the kitchen, bringing back one shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. You poured a glass for Arthur, placed the bottle on the table, and sat down on the couch next to him.
He downed it in one go before silence fell over, nothing but the occasional sound of wind howling outside.
"Beautiful ranch you got."
"Thank you," you said, keeping your answer short and not looking at him.
You could feel the weight of his stare on you; it’s been six years since he last saw you. You've changed so much, and at the same time, haven't changed at all. You still kept your hair the same length, still had the same longing gaze in your eyes, yearning for more in life. He saw that you still had a scar on your hand, the one you got when an O'Driscoll pierced it with his knife. Arthur said it would fade with time when he was bandaging it. Looking at it now, he realized that things don’t fade away so easily.
His eyes lingered on your hand for a moment, noticing a ring on your finger, the gold band shining brightly in the dimly lit room, taunting him.
"So, you got married?" he said, his voice laced with venom as he spoke the last word.
"I have," you replied, casting your eyes down to the golden band. "Couldn't wait for you forever." Your words pierced right through him, leaving yet another wound he would need to tend to later. For the past six years, he held a naive, wishful hope that when the time would come, you’d be there, waiting for him. The idea, as absurd and foolish as it was, kept him hopeful for the past six years.
"What's his name?"
"Don't," you said, turning around to Arthur for the first time since you sat down. "Don't do this."
The two of you fell silent once again, and you used that moment to look over Arthur. You could see the traces of the person you loved six years ago; he still had the same scars scattered across his face. His eyes, although sadder now, still had the same color to them. His arms, the ones that held you on many nights, still had the same muscular shape.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, catching your eyes. "It was my fault the things ended up the way they did."
You didn’t say anything, casting your eyes downwards, so he continued.
“I was awake, you know, the night you left.”
You gulped down, the memories of your departure from the camp filling your mind.
“I should’ve never let you go.”
"I should’ve never left." The words left your mouth before you could process them. You have promised yourself to never vocalize these thoughts, the thoughts that a part of you that never left him, that have been longing for him for the past six years, felt.
The atmosphere in the air shifted. You could feel the change in Arthur's eyes and his demeanor. He reached out and took your hands in his, running his thumb over your knuckles and your golden band. His other hand reached up to you, cradling your head and bringing the two of you closer. You could feel his breath on your lips, smelling of the whiskey you poured him a few minutes ago. Your mind was on fire. For a moment, you felt that you were six years in the past, sitting on a bed in a crummy hotel room in some beatdown town. The law was on your tail, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered when you were with Arthur.
He pressed his lips against yours and in an instant, you forgot where you were. Your hands moved on their own, reaching and waving your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. He groaned against your mouth, his hand leaving yours and moving up the curve of your body, over your hips and your waist, stopping around your chest. You felt him palm you over your chemise, and for a second, you felt your mind clear. The guilt came in flooding. You felt his tongue lick over your bottom lip and you winced, breaking the kiss and trying to get away from him, pushing yourself deeper into the couch.
"I can't do this," you said, more to yourself than to Arthur.
You felt his hand on your knee, hot against the cool skin. You wanted to move, wanted to slap his hand away, but you didn't. His hand inched higher up your leg, reaching the end of your chemise.
Arthur looked at you, his hand still on your thigh. "You tell me to stop and I will. I will leave and never bother you again."
You hesitated for a moment, battling with yourself till you finally said, “Stay.”
He covered your body with his, pinning you against the couch. His lips moved against yours in a dance that the two of you knew well, having rehearsed it for years and years before. One of his hands was back on your thigh, massaging the skin as he moved dangerously close to your heat. You felt his fingers run over your clothed slit, pressing against your clit and making you push your hips towards him.
His lips left your mouth, moving to your neck, kissing down your throat and to the crook of your neck. You could feel yourself getting wet as he kept kissing you all over, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your clothed clit. He removed himself from you and pulled off his suspenders. You sat up, your fingers reaching out and working on the buttons of his shirt before throwing it on the floor. You ran your hand up his body, through his chest hair and stopping over his heart. You could feel it beat wildly against his rib cage.
You felt hazy as he kissed you once again. In a minute, your chemise was on the floor, joining his shirt in a pile and leaving your top half naked to him. He laid you back down on the couch, sitting on his hinges between your spread legs. He made sure to burn this moment in his memory, the image of you spread under him for what was probably the last time.
He pulled your drawers down, revealing you completely to himself. You felt like you should cover yourself, not let a man that wasn't your husband see you like this, but this wasn't just another man, it was Arthur. Being like this with him felt natural.
He paved his way down your stomach with kisses, finally reaching your glistering cunt. The first touch of his tongue against your slit made you moan, and you instinctively reached out with your hand, waving your fingers into Arthur's hair. He kept going, lapping at you and pushing all the buttons he knew would have you coming apart in minutes. You threw your head back, moaning his name when you feel him push a finger in you, his tongue turning its attention to your clit. You could feel your release approaching when he added a second finger, picking up the pace. The movements of his fingers were deliberate, working in tandem with his tongue. You started to move your hips in time with his fingers, your body giving in to your carnal desires.
Your toes curled and your whole body shuddered as you came. Arthur kept going, heightening your pleasures until it all became too much and he retreated. The sight of his lips, wet with your juices, made a fire ignite in your belly once again. You pulled him down, crashing your lips against his, moaning at the taste of you.
He was grinding his hips against you, the bulge in his pants hard and heavy. You broke the kiss, reaching down with shaking hands towards his pants, popping the button open and taking out his cock. He moaned your name, closing his eyes as you wrapped your fingers around him. You ran your hand up and down, relishing in the sound of his debauched voice moaning your name. After a while, he took your hand away from his length and kissed over your knuckles. Letting it go, he pulled down his pants, the last article of clothing joining the others on the floor.
He sat in his naked glory between your legs. He was just as you remembered him; big, strong and muscular. The air around him was filled with virility. Your primal urges filled your mind as you wanted nothing but to be filled by him. He sensed your longing, seeing it in your eyes, and smiled.
His lips found yours once again, kissing you so much that you couldn't think about anothing but him. You felt the tip at him at your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your hands found his biceps, holding on to him as he pushed deeper, stretching you around his shaft. He stilled when he was all the way in, trying to compose himself. For a moment, all that could be heard where the sounds of your combined breaths, haggard in the quiet living room. The light from the fireplace illuminated your naked bodies.
Finally, he moved, pulling halfway out of you before slamming back in. You clung to each other, your bodies molding into one. Your legs wrapped around his waist, letting him deeper into you as your hands clawed at his back, leaving red marks behind. The feeling of him inside you was intoxicating; he was made for you, hitting all the right spots, the sheer girth and length of him filling you perfectly. His lips were on your neck as he thrusted in and out of you, taking in your scent and the taste of your skin under his lips.
Arthur couldn't get enough of you; his eyes raked over every part of your body, taking it all in. You could feel his hands everywhere, holding on to your hips, massaging your sides, cupping your breasts. He wanted to feel every part of you. His touch was inebriating, heightening your pleasure to an unimaginable level.
You could feel yourself nearing the edge, and so did Arthur. His movements became sloppier and out of rhythm, his desire for peak overwhelming.
He moaned your name, bringing your attention to him.
"I'm gonna cum," he said breathlessly, "where-"
You didn't let him finish, cutting in and saying, "Cum in me", not thinking about the repercussions of your words, your mind high on desire.
He dropped to his elbows, crashing his lips against yours as his movements became slower but rougher. You moved your hips meeting every one of his thrusts. The feeling of your tongue against his, your hands on his back and your warmness tightening against his shaft all became too much, and he came with a moan of your name, spilling his seed inside of you. The feeling of him coating your walls drove you wild, and you came a moment later, your legs shaking.
The weight of Arthur over you felt like a warm blanket, keeping you safe and shielded from the world outside. You could feel his staggering breath on your neck as he tried to bring his breathing down. You held each other like that for a few minutes, not moving. Two sweaty bodies, entangled in each other.
At some point in the night, the two of you moved to the bedroom, soiling the bed that you and your husband shared with your combined moans and desires.
You spent the rest night in Arthur’s arms. He held you tight against him as he told you about his travels and the state of the gang. You told him about the ranch, and how fulfilled you felt by the work. Both of you tried to avoid the subject of marital status.
You fell asleep to the beat of Arthur’s heart, your head on his chest, his in your hair.
In the morning, the two of you had breakfast, and he stayed till the evening, helping you with some of the chores around the ranch, playing family that the two of you never had a chance to become.
You watched him drive away on his horse, following the speck of him with your eyes all the way over the plain till it completely disappeared. You stood by the entrance of your ranch for a few more minutes. Out in the distance the chickens chirped. You still had to milk the cows and go to the general store. Breathing out, you looked up into the sky before turning back towards your house and your life.
Few months later.
You stood at the top of a hill, overlooking your ranch with your husband next to you. Cold wind blew through your hair. Winter was coming. You had to start making preparation for the colder months; make sure the cattle were healthy, create a water plan, add feeders and forage among other things.
Another rush of cold air made you shiver and pull your shawl tightly over your shoulders. Your husband's hand found yours, interlocking your fingers and making you look at him. He smiled at you. his eyes full of love and excitement, before turning back towards the ranch. You held your gaze on him for a moment longer, studying his features, before too turning towards the pasture, one of your hands in his, the other on your growing belly.
CW: this post contains descriptions of, and links to, images of dead bodies.
In May of 1945, an American medic was quartered in the recently liberated Dachau concentration camp. He wrote this letter to his parents detailing what he saw there.
“. . . while we expected things to be grizzly, I'm sure none of us knew what was coming. It is easy to read about atrocities, but they must be seen before they can be believed.”
“But as we came to the center of the city, we met a train with a wrecked engine - about fifty cars long. Every car was loaded with bodies! There must have been thousands of them - all obviously starved to death.”
“ . . . when we reached the furnace house we came upon a huge stack of corpses piled up like kindling, all nude so that their clothes wouldn't be wasted by the burning. ”
“Outside, in addition to a huge mound of charred bone fragments, were the carefully sorted and stacked clothes of the victims - which obviously numbered in the thousands. Although I stood there looking at it, I couldn't believe it.”
Transcription of letter:
Dachau 3, den
Fernruf Dachau 293
[crossed out] 7 April 1945
7 May 1945
Dear Mother and Father,
You have, by this time, received a letter mentioning that I am quartered in the concentration camp at Dachau. It is still undecided whether we will be permitted to describe the conditions here, but I'm writing this now to tell you a little, and will mail it later when we are told we can.
It is difficult to know how to begin. By this time I have recovered from my first emotional shock and am able to write without screaming like a hysterical gibbering idiot. Yet, I know you will hesitate to believe me no matter how objective and factual I try to be. I even find myself trying to deny what I am looking at with my own eyes. Certainly, what I have seen in the past few days will offset my personality for the rest of my life.
We knew a day or two before we moved that we were going to operate in Dachau, and that it was the location of one of the most notorious concentration camps, but while we expected things to be grizzly, I'm sure none of us knew what was coming. It is easy to read about atrocities, but they must be seen before they can be believed. To think that I once scoffed at Valtin's book "Out of the Night" as being preposterous! I've seen worse
SS-Standortkommandantur Dachau 3, den
Dachau Fernruf Dachau 293
Betreff: [handwritten] nights than any he described.
[cutoff ezug] The trip south from Öttingen was pleasant enough. We passed through Donauworth and Aichach and as we entered Dachau, the [in pencil in the margin: Bavarian Alps] country, with the cottages, river, Anlagen: country estates and Alps in the distance, was almost like a tourist resort. But as we came to the center of the city, we met a train with a wrecked engine - about fifty cars long. Every car was loaded with bodies. There must have been thousands of them - all obviously starved to death. This was a shock of the first order, and the odor can best be immagined. But neither the sight nor the odor were anything when compared with what we were still to see. [in pencil: E]
Marc Coyle reached the camp two days before I did and was a guard so as soon as I got there I looked him up and he took me to the crematory. Dead SS troopers were scattered around the grounds, but when we reached the furnace house we came upon a huge stack of corpses piled up like kindling, all nude so that their clothes wouldn't be wasted by the burning. There were furnaces for burning six bodies at once, and on each side of them was a room twenty feet square crammed to the ceiling with more bodies - one big stinking rotten mess. Their faces
SS-Standortkommandantur Dachau 3, den
Dachau Fernruf Dachau 293
Betreff: purple, their eyes popping, and with a hideous grin on each one. They were nothing but bones & skin. Coyle had assisted at ten autopsies the day before (wearing a gas mask) on ten bodies selected at random. Bezug: Eight of them had advanced T.B., all had typhus and extreme malnutrition symptoms. There were both women and children in the stack in addition to the men.
Anlagen: While we were inspecting the place, freed prisoners drove up with wagon loads of corpses removed from the compound proper. Watching the unloading was horrible. The bodies squooshed and gurgled as they hit the pile and the odor could almost be seen.
Behind the furnaces was the execution chamber, a windowless cell twenty feet square with gas nozzles every few feet across the ceiling. Outside, in addition to a huge mound of charred bone fragments, were the carefully sorted and stacked clothes of the victims - which obviously numbered in the thousands. Although I stood there looking at it, I couldn't believe it. The realness of the whole mess is just gradually dawning on me, and I doubt if it ever will on you.
SS-Standortkommandantur Dachau 3, den
Dachau Fernruf Dachau 293
There is a rumor circulating which says that the war is over. It probably is - as much as it ever will be. We've all been expecting the end for several days, but were not too excited about it because we know that it does not Betreff: mean too much as far as our immediate situation is concerned. There was no celebration - it's difficult to celebrate anything with the morbid state we're in.
Bezug: The Pacific theater will not come immediately for this unit; we have around 36,000 potential and eventual patients here. The end of the work for everyone else is going to be just the beginning for us.
Anlagen: Today was a scorching hot day after several rainy cold ones. The result of the heat on the corpses is impossible to describe, and the situation will probably get worse because their disposal will certainly take time.
My arm is sore from a typhus shot so I'm ending here for the present. More will follow later. I have lots to write about now.
FLOCH FORSTER HEADCANONS
floch x reader
NSFW, filthy smut, heavy degradation, sexual intercouse, lots of cum, oral, masturbation, body shots, facial, good aftercare, possession
IF YOU DONT LIKE FLOCH JUST IGNORE THIS, BUT IM SURE YOU WILL LIKE THIS IF YOU'RE AS TWISTED AS ME
this starts as innocent headcanons but it slowly turns into hard smut
also this will be long!
well, i had to repost this so here we go
some of this was originally posted on my tiktok (@sf.ck)
floch asks you every morning to help with his hair routine
he definitely owns a red iphone and has picture of you on his lock and home screen
he’s smart at logical subjects, so he will help you with math, chemistry…
he’s jealous and controlling, but caring
also the most loyal bf on the planet
would text you every hour and ask who you’re with
he hates your male friends
floch wants to be the ONLY man you give your attention to
TAGS you in every meme he finds so others can SEE it
floch has always warm hands, even in winter so he warms your cold hands with his big palms
if you catch him staring, he doesn’t look away
doesn’t let you wear clothes that expose too much of your skin in public
praise him, he needs his ego boosted
bad attitude towards everyone, only shows you his soft side
but also his sadictic side
the only time you saw him blush was when he asked you to rub your knees on his growing bulge one morning
he’s a 🍒 guy, size doesn’t matter to him
one look at your bare chest and he will see you as his goddess
he’ll beg you for a boobjob and it’s your only opportunity for you to be dominant with him
loves falling asleep on your soft breasts
gives you painful hickeys, really painful, they’re all colors of dark blue and purple
also asks you to mark his body
when he showers and sees the purple spots of your mouth on his naked body he starts thinking about you
he hopes you do the same
doesn’t mind fukin you when you’re on your period, he actually loves it sorry
floch uses handcuffs and 🔫 in bed
enjoys seeing you powerless
if you don’t obey him he grabs your wrists tightly to prevent you from moving
he’d grab your jaw and spit in your mouth afterwards
,,little too persistent are we? listen, not being obedient will only cause you pain. so learn your place, i know youre a total whore for me.“
his pleasure matters more to him than yours
floch starts meaningless fights because he enjoys arguing with you
kinda a turn on for him seeing you cry, but then he regrets it and feels bad
flochs favorite position is classy missionary
before he pulls into you he rubs your clit with his tip
,,you like this, dirty little slut?"
moisture you with his precum
the silhouette of his strong stroking member is visible through your stomach
that makes him feels as the most powerful man in the universe
enjoys when you scream from pain, it encourages him to go even rougher
when you’re obeying him all night, he lets you decide where he finishes himself
calls you his filthy whore whatever spot you choose
his favorite spot to palm himself off and release it all is ofc your chest and belly
also wants to paint your insides because one time, it could permanently seal the relationship of you two
he’s a moaning mess during his climax
it’s extremely messy, a huge load comes from him, even he is surprised of himself
very, very vocal as his chest quickly rises and drops because of breathing from pleasure
seeing you covered in his hot sticky liquid makes him needy for second round
,,youre such a slut for me, look at you, enjoying my dirty mess on your pretty skin”
buries this image of you deep into his mind as detailed as possible for his future needs
while observing your helpless body he grabs tissue afterwards and starts cleaning his mess you caused him
,,but you’ve made me do this, teasing me so much and being so tight. i know you wanted this you needy girl, so better be thankful"
floch touches your cheek and locks deep eye contact with you as his red bangs tickle your face
he doesnt want this to end yet so without asking he picks you to take a bath with him
your back laying on him feeling his member growing steadily
your head on his chest as he holds your waist and pushes you even closer
,,you were so obedient this time, as a reward you get to taste every inch of me"
water pours on your bodies as you take his again-hard member into your hands. he scratches the wall. your small femine hands are milion times better than his
you gave him slow strokes and then took his member into your warm mouth
your tongue gives his tip the most delicate touches on the most sensitive spot
he never lasts long in your sweet warm throat
,,this time, you swallow the dirt you will cause. understood?“
you do as he says and suddenly his liquid pours down your throat
he tastes like olive oil
floch pulls himself away, your saliva mixed with his cum still connecting you two
by your surprise he starts quickly palming himself
you flinch and close your eyes as you feel heavy thick white liquid covering your eyelids
he felt like the most powerful man in that particular moment. he marked his territory like some animal.
,,no one can do this to you. only me. i own you” he said while still giving his member more quick strokes
your eyes wanted to see him pleasure himself in front of your naked body so you briefly opened them. his load still on your eyelids. it was heavy to open you eyes.
you could see it a bit from your half-closed eyes, but you couldn't keep up with his fast hand. he surely is skilled.
,,i-i want more if it. please give it to me" you beg
the last warm drops of his juices landed your cheeks, other gave your neck a grand pearl necklace.
you felt the ultimate connection forming between you and floch. it was beyond intimate. some would say this is perverted or disgusting but NO. with person you love, everything you do is perfect. and you were so happy to be with him. it felt special, he doesn't treat anyone like you.
,,im the luckiest girl in the world for being with you" you grabbed his quick wrist and kissed the tip of his member.
he looked deeply into the eyes, your face still covered with his sticky cum
,,y/n, i love you. i always will. just look at your beautiful face, id never let another man do this"
you know he tells the truth. you trust him so much. he's always been so loyal, ignoring girls staring at him. his eyes were made only for you.
floch helped you wash yourself. his hands which helped him make mess on you are now cleaning your body. he's usually rough, but now you feel softness and kindness from his touches.
after he cleaned your face, floch cupped your cheeks with his hands and connected his lips to yours. his tongue then slid on your neck and he gave you tons of sweet kisses. they weren't lustful, but romantic.
,,you must be very tired after all that" you said, hand laying on his chest
floch hugged you as you fell asleep that night in his warm, safe hands after he kissed your forehead a sweet good night
Easy - Eren Jaeger
Eren Jaeger x Reader - fluff, college!au
AN - If you saw me post this before, no you didn’t. But in actuality it is a repost I just changed it to second person oops. But anyway, hopefully anyone who sees it for the second time likes it again lol.
(A part 2 and/or prequel does exist for this in my brain if anyone was ever interested!)
Song vibes: Easy by Troye Sivan ft. Kasey Musgraves
Summary - Just a pair of friends that definitely do not like each other. But leave their rooms at midnight for each other with no hesitation, and know each other’s food orders, and are low-key affectionate with each other. A pair of friends.
Y/N: Hey :)
Eren drags his head out of his textbook as his phone goes off. Pushing stray hairs back off his forehead and out of his eyes. His tired eyes lit slightly at the sight of your name. His fingers quickly replying
Eren: Hey u
He glances at the time, 12.03 am, he frowns, worried whyyou were awake so late. Three bubbles appear on his screen as he waits for your reply to arrive.
Y/N: U up?
Eren: I’m texting u back aren’t I?
Her reply takes slightly longer this time, and his mouth crooks up at the side, picturing the eye roll you were most definitely doing.
Y/N: Shut up
You know what I mean
Eren: Yeah I’m up
Last minute studying
He pulls the phone from its charger and leans back in his chair, one foot against the desk leg and swinging back slightly. You take a little longer to reply and his eyes drift to the top of the screen where your contact picture is. His mouth betrays him again and a smile ghosts over it.
The picture is simple. A candid of you sat proudly in front of a sandcastle you were making at the beach during spring break. Your legs splayed either side of it, covered in sand. You were smiling up at someone, probably Sasha, your hair a wavy, salty mess, blowing in the sea breeze.
Your reply finally comes, vibrating the phone in his hand and dragging him from his thoughts. He rolls his eyes at your message.
Y/N: Midnight Taco Bell run? :)
Eren: Have you been smoking?
Y/N: No I just also happen to be doing midnight work and have a craving
His fingers move to reply before another message comes through, very quickly, and he pauses.
Y/N: And I miss your dumb face
Eren: You mean my pretty face?
Y/N: I change my mind I’m asking Jean
Eren: Shut up I’m getting ready now
Eren chucks the phone over to his bed, staring at his textbook for a second. He knows he should keep studying, or better yet, go to bed. But he misses you too. He stands from the seat and shuffles around his room, quietly as possible. Armin was definitely asleep and would definitely make a dumb comment about Eren being whipped for someone he wasn’t even dating.
Eren brushes off the thought and pulls his sneakers on, swaps his gym shorts for sweatpants and scrapes his hair back into the best bun he can manage.
After wandering out of his room he grabs his keys and wallet from by the door and shuts it over with the quietest click he can manage.
On his walk to his car he sends one more text.
Eren: Getting in the car now
Eren: I’ll be like 10 mins
Y/N: I’ll be the cute one in pyjamas ;)
He laughs at the flirtatious message before switching on his car and driving off.
His mind doubles back to what would be Armin’s comments on the situation. They weren’t dating, but flirting between friends was entirely normal. He shakes off feeling the need to justify his relationship with you. You were friends, best friends. That almost hooked up once. The first time you met. But now you were just friends.
Before he even realises it he’s pulling up at the kerb by your building, his eyes glancing up to the door and watching a shadowy figure emerge. His head leans back against the headrest when her form comes into the dim street lights.
You’re dressed the same as him, sweatpants hugging your hips and an oversized hoodie drowning your top half. He squints for a second, was that his hoodie? Nah, it probably wasn’t, you had similar taste in hoodies anyway. You push the hood back when you reach the car, a mess of hair tumbling out around your face. It resembled a bedhead, but he knew you well enough to conclude you’d been sleepily running hands through it all night to make the mess. Tugging at the roots in efforts to stay focused on whatever it was you were working on.
You tug the door open and pull yourself into the seat. Situating yourself before turning to him and pushing your glasses up her nose, foregoing contacts at this hour, ‘Hi.’
He smiles down at your smaller form, ‘Hey you.’
‘Let’s get going.’
He raises an eyebrow at you, watching you slide down in the seat. Your eyes are wide as you stare back, ‘What?’
You roll your eyes and push yourself back up, reaching for the seatbelt, ‘Yes, mother.’
Hearing the belt click in place he pulls off, satisfied with your safety being secured.
You grab his phone from the cupholder, and push it under his face slightly, not obstructing his view but close enough for him to give it a quick glance and unlock his face ID for you. You start scrolling spotify and find your combined playlist, made with midnight food runs in mind. RnB starts flowing out of his speakers.
Dropping the phone back in the cupholder you turn to look at his profile, ‘So what you been studying for?’
‘Psychology final, not until next week but after I kinda bombed the midterm I don’t wanna be caught off guard. You?’
‘Final project is due in two weeks. I’ve kinda got it finished but I’m not sure.’
He smiles, knowing you were just being a perfectionist about it.
‘Am I gonna get to read it?’
‘Why do you want to?’ You laugh at him, looking over at his profile that was focused on the road ahead, but seeing his lip was pulled up in a smirk.
‘Cause you haven’t shut up about it all year, I wanna know if all the support snacks I’ve bought you have been worth it.’
You scrunch up your face and shove it down into the hoodie you were adorned in. It smelt like Eren. Wait, was this his hoodie?
‘Huh, nothing to say back?’ His grin is too smug as he steals a look at you. You glare up at him, ‘Shut up.’
Silence settles over you in the last minutes before you approach the destination. You push yourself up to sit when the glowing sign comes into view, your eyes lighting up again.
‘Drive thru or sit in?’ Eren questions, approaching slowly as he waits for an answer.
‘Sit in, please.’ He nods before swinging into a parking spot.
You both jump out and Eren rounds the car to your side, bumping you with his hip in greeting now you were out of the car. His hands are stuffed in his pockets but you grab hold of his sweatshirt sleeve gently as you start joking about how you had to sneak out without setting off Sasha’s food radar.
Inside you bounce ahead of him slightly, up to one of the self serve screens and start ordering. He smiles softly at how you had to shuffle the too-long hoodie sleeve up to let your hand emerge.
He comes behind you and places his chin on top of your head, watching as you confidently tapped at the different items.
‘You haven’t asked what I wanted yet.’
‘I know your Taco Bell order, idiot.’
‘Maybe I want something different this time.’
‘No you don’t.’
The screen goes black for a second while loading the checkout and he glances at your reflection. You push your glasses up your nose, looking up and sticking your tongue out at him when you see his eyes already on you.
He smiles before ruffling at your already messy hair and standing back to pull out his wallet. Glancing up, he catches you doing the same and suddenly moves quicker, as do you. Whipping out his bank card and reaching around you to tap it on the terminal, the familiar beep of a successful transaction going off before you can push your card in the bottom slot.
Eren grins in triumph while you stuff your wallet back in the hoodie and grumble, ‘Stupid contactless card.’
You pull the receipt from the machine while he walks over towards a booth, dropping into the seat and stretching his legs out while watching you.
Your hands are shoved into the hoodie, you sway and shuffle around on you feet. Standing still was never one of your strong suits.
A smile takes over Eren’s face as you yawn and rubs at your eyes, pulling the hood up over your head and pulling at the strings slightly. He chuckles at the image of your head being swallowed. You turn at the sound and frown at him, mouthing out ‘don’t laugh at me.’ Prompting his laughter to continue on.
He settles back in the booth when their number is called and you wander up to accept the tray of food.
Dropping yourself down across from him, the two of you automatically begin splitting out their food, almost instinctively knowing which packages were for who; Eren always had the nachos, you never deviated from fries.
You ate in silence for just a moment before you pick up conversation again, ‘Are you gonna go to Jean’s party after finals?’
‘So bold of you to assume Jean could pull off a decent party without me.’ He smiled, stuffing a bite of his burrito in his mouth as you giggle. ‘What about you?’
‘I mean yeah probably, if everyone else is going.’
‘Well, Jean has got me and Connie roped in to help with set up, so Connie will make Sasha go, and Sasha will make Mikasa go, who will make Armin go, who will make sure I don’t flake off early and I’ll make sure you stay.’
‘Connie and I.’ You correct, reaching for your drink.
‘Also, Eren Jaeger flaking early from a party is wholeheartedly unheard of.’
‘I left the last one early because someone needed to be walked home after throwing up.’
You pause with the straw at your mouth, eyes narrowing in a glare.
‘You can’t get too messy this time anyway. Bertolt is gonna be there.’
You scrunch up your face in confusion, ‘Why’d you say his name like that.’
‘Because, you haven’t got laid since spring break, he’s cute and you said you guys have gotten super close from your fiction writing class.’
You roll your eyes at the tall boy’s explanation and shrug, ‘He’s kinda cute. I guess. And we haven’t gotten super close, we barely knew each other before the class.’
‘Exactly, he’s at perfect arm’s length for a hook up. You deserve it after all the stressing you’ve done this semester.’
You shrug again. Setting your drink back on the table and leaning back, your feet stretching out to bump against Eren’s, you think about it.
Eren watches you, yourr eyes staring out into space. Bertolt was cute, he didn’t get around that much from what Eren had heard of the boy, but he was sweet enough that he knew he could trust him with you, even just for a night.
But even as he looked you over, dark circles beginning to shadow under your eyes, figure swamped in your loungewear and hot sauce staining one edge of your mouth. You were way out of Bertolt’s league.
‘You’re probably way too good for him anyway.’
‘Even just for a hookup?’ Your eyes meet his green ones, your mouth showing a teasing smile starting to form.
He stuffs more burrito in his mouth and nods.
‘You think I’m too good for everyone.’
He swallows and reaches for his drink, ‘cause you are.’
‘Was I too good for you, is that why you didn’t have sex with me?’ You start grinning and laughing as he chokes on his drink. He leans an elbow on the table as he coughs, glaring at you through his lashes.
Eren sticks a hand out at you and gestures for you to cough it up. You pull a dollar from your wallet and stuffs it in his hand.
He imagines it’s the same dollar he gave you last week after he joked about your almost hook up. The metaphorical ‘don’t talk about the time we almost had sex’ jar was essentially the same dollar passed back and forth.
‘Was that one worth it?’ He raises an eyebrow at your giggling face as you reaches to open your crunchwrap, nodding in a satisfied manner.
You hold the hexagonal taco in your small hands and Eren chuckles. You eye him, taking your first bite and speaking out a muffled, ‘What?’
‘Your tiny hands always make those things look huge.’
‘Maybe your meaty boy’s hands just make it look small.’
He sticks a hand out in front of you, palm spread out to show the full size, ‘My hands are not meaty. And they’re no bigger than average.’
‘What are you talking about?’ You mirror him, lifting your hand to press a palm against his, the tips of your fingers just brushing above the second knuckle.
‘Your hands are just tiny.’
‘No, they only look small because yours are huge.’
You both fall silent, two sets of eyes trained on your pressed together hands. Eren ignores the feel of his heart pounding up against his chest.
What was wrong? They’d held hands before?
The ring of your phone blaring out an alarm drew both of them from the trance. Eren slid his fingers to interlock with your’s, playfully pushing your hand back towards your body.
‘Who’s calling you at this hour?’
‘No one, I, uh, I set an alarm for one thirty am. Otherwise we’d sit here all night, knowing the two of us.’
He lets out a small laugh, nods in agreement and starts to gather up your trash. His eyes run over your face just before standing, choosing not to make fun of the blush gracing your cheeks.
You stand and fall in stride next to him, bumping his hips with your own and poking his side, ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Got your eye on anyone for Jean’s party?’
‘Nah, I’d rather just chill. I’ll probably spend half the night making sure Jean stays relatively sober for his own party.’ You laugh at the idea, nodding your head fervently. Jean usually ended up the messiest of the bunch.
The exit into the cold night air, and your body is immediately taken over with shivers. Eren rolls his eyes but loops an arm around your shoulder, his own body a constant furnace. You hum in appreciation, leaning into his side as he rubs at your arm.
Climbing into the car, he blasts the heat. This time you pull on your seatbelt with no need for prompting, your head turning to stare up at him, the raise of her eyebrows translating to You happy?
He stays quiet, pulling on a cheesy grin that answers back, Very.
You flop back into your seat, a yawn overtaking you and the heat of the car soothing you The effort to keep your eyes open immediately doubled.
‘You can close your eyes. I’ll wake you when we get to your building.’
You look at him with a sorry expression, ‘But I dragged you out I shouldn’t-’
‘Sleep, idiot,’ he cuts you off, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to run over your hair, long fingers running through it. Always a surefire way to make you sleepy.
You drift off quickly, a smile softly laid on your cheeks.
Eren feels his heart beating hard once again. He swallows it down. Focuses on the road. Just friends was easier.