#like i don't even mean to imply anything angsty there i just feel so many things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lightlycareless · 1 month

Note

Imagine: naoya and y/n have been happily married for years, and y/n has Lesley Gore's "You don't own me" as ringtone because it makes naoya so embarrassed, he would be like "love, I have already apologized 🥺"

PS: love your work, you alone are making justice to naoya's character. Your characterization of him is canon in my mind.

Hello!!!

Awww this is 🥺 man I feel so bad for him haha. But it's true, once everything is healed and nice, this man will still feel that he could never make up for his mistakes 😭 you'd be there to reassure him, though :) ❤️

Anyways, I've decided to apply some creative... differences to this. Mainly because I wanted to get really angsty with it mwahahahahahahah (also, it's not noted here, but there are some things that will remind her of those days, so she will avoid anything that might make her remember that. The two are in love, but... it's a difficult path. but trauma always is.)

Also, thank you so much for your lovely words!! I do try my best :') I'm so glad that you liked my characterization!! This man is capable of more... under the right circumstances 🤭

warnings: a bit of angst. naoya is deeply regretful. you're supportive. mentions of abuse (not really, but something bad is implied)

happy reading!

“—this is why I don’t like going out with you. Nothing ever seems to be of your liking!”

“If you have such a bad time with me, then why don’t you leave?!”

“I might as well!”

Naoya was never one to overhear gossip (coming from strangers, that is.). Thought it to be incredibly boring, dull, mundane, especially from civilians. What could they even experience? Their boring 9-5 job? Yeah, no thanks.

Yet, something about this conversation didn’t elude his attention like it used to, and before he knew it, when he was once focused on your voice, he was now nothing but attentive to the hurtful words of the couple nearby.

They weren’t directed at him, obviously, nor did they refer to anything he could take personally…

But the weight of his past makes it impossible for him to look beyond his own guilt, instinctively attaching their words to his own actions. Like he was the one they were discussing.

Naoya knows he was a… less than desirable man at the beginning of this marriage. He doesn’t claim otherwise, he can’t, since there are still many things to make amends for…

Things that he knows he’ll never be able to; for the atrocities he committed to you… they’re unspeakable. Even with the promise he made to spend of the rest of his life making it up to you, one he doesn’t intend to let go.

But… will he ever amount to it? Can he do so?

…

He’d rather die trying, than never at all.

“Another one?” You ask when he suggests going to another store. The two had come on a date at a shopping mall, intending to pick up some things needed for the apartment, alongside enjoying each other’s company; Naoya’s work had been quite demanding as of lately, and he intended to get his dosage of you, enough to cover a whole month. “But I thought you wanted to head back already…?”

“Yes, but then I thought we’d make the best of our visit here before leaving instead. Who knows when we’ll be back?”

“Oh, well… if that’s what you want…” you frown, a bit unsettled by his sudden change, which was only to worsen.

“No! I mean—we can do that too if you want to.” Naoya interjects.

“You’re not making much sense…”

“What I mean to say is that we can do whatever you want.” He scurries to explain. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

“I... don’t have anything in mind, really. Going home sounded good.”

“Are you sure? We can go somewhere else too. You know I have no limitations.”

“I think I’m done for the day—”

“Home it is. Would you like the estate, the apartment, or your parents’ house?”

“My parents house?? But that’s—that’s on the other side of the country!” you gasp; and while you’re always appreciative of Naoya’s willingness to go above and beyond, this was actually a bit… excessive—and that’s saying a lot coming from him!

“And?”

“What do you mean and? We can’t just hop on a plane and leave!”

“Of course we can.” He corrected. “We can leave right now if you want.”

“Again with the—Where did this come from?? Is everything alright, Naoya? What’s gotten into you??”

“Nothing! Is it wrong to want to please you, too?” Naoya frets.

“Too?” you repeat. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s—It’s nothing. Just tell me what you—”

“No, it is important. It has to be if it’s affecting you like this!” you cry. “Tell me, Naoya. Please. I thought we agreed we could tell each other everything!”

“It’s nothing you don’t know already.”

“Like what?” you frown. “What do I already know?? You’re not making any sense!”

“That I don’t deserve you!” he condemns. “That I’ve done terrible things to you that I can never erase, no matter how much I try—and that perhaps you’d be infinitely happier with someone else; someone… that isn’t me.”

Even with the large, noisy sounds of the lively mall, silence manages to quickly engulf the two soon after, drowning you in the pain Naoya’s unexpected words gave you, piercing your heart and the hope you’ve placed for the future of this relationship.

One created with the notion that everything bad had been left in the past, ready to move on… only to realize, it wasn’t that easy to do so. Suddenly coming back, in the most unwanted, painful way you could’ve imagined—seemingly unprompted, but equally damaging to Naoya’s sentiments.

“That’s… that’s not true.” You eventually murmur, looking at him, while Naoya’s eyes remain glued to the floor. “None of what you’re saying is true.”

Then why do I keep feeling this way?

“… you don’t… believe that… do you?” You continue, managing to get a glimpse of his face, which reflected nothing but sadness and disbelief towards your words.

“It seems like all I do is hurt you.” Naoya laments. “No matter how much I try, I’ll never be able to escape—"

“Don’t say that—that’s not who you are.” You interject, stepping closer to him. “We’ve come a long way from where we began, you’re not that same man from before.”

“But I keep making the same mistakes, I keep hurting you.”

“It’s not easy to leave behind what you thought normal for all your life—or to accept them as mistakes…” you take his hand. “So, when you do fall back into your old ways, but bounce back right up… It shows you’re trying. It shows you’re regretful and want to do better.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“I know.” He lifts your gaze to yours; you place your other hand just above his cheek, giving him a soft smile. “And… I know you don’t do it intentionally. I’ve seen your heart, the pain you went through and how it affected you. But I also saw what you’re capable of, the love you’ve harbored, how you longed to share it, and… how lucky I am to be the one to earn it.”

“…I’m the lucky one.” Naoya leans into your touch. “To have found a wife so compassionate…”

“We’ve both done things we’re… not proud of. But that doesn’t mean we’re eternally bound to them. As long as we’re regretful and strive to do better… it’s all that matters.”

“But when is enough?” Naoya murmurs. “When will I stop feeling like this?”

“I don’t know. There are some things we can’t stop, we simply… learn how to live with them.” You admit. “I wish it was possible.”

He frowns, looking away.

“But I do know one thing, though.”

“…What is it?”

“That I love you. With your faults and virtues—and everything in between. Is what makes you, you, Naoya.” You giggle, he gives you a tight smile. “And I’ll spend my whole life telling you that until you believe it yourself!”

He chuckles; seems that both have made lifelong promises that neither intends to forget anytime soon.

“I love you too.” Naoya professed. “Thank you for everything. You’ve given me so much, probably even more than what I deserved—that I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you.”

“You don’t have to, Naoya. You only deserve more.” You reassure him. “But really, you don’t need to make it up to me! As long as you remember the love we have for each other, and that I’ve long forgiven you, is enough for me.”

At your words, the tears Naoya was trying his best to hold back finally slide down his cheeks, which you quickly wipe away with your thumbs, before giving him a smile and pulling him closer for a peck on the lips.

“Everything is going to be fine.” You promised, he looks back at you. You kiss him again, taking him into your arms and hugging him. “If you don’t mind me asking, however… what happened that made you feel this way? Did I do something?”

Naoya sighs, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“No, never. It was just something stupid, actually. Some people arguing, that’s all.”

“Oh.” You blink, quickly understanding why he’d feel insecure about your relationship; the familiarities were too close for comfort. “That’s… unfortunate.”

“It reminded me of how we used to be… how I’d treat you.”

“That is long gone. We’ve worked past that and now, we’re in a much better place.” You snuggle against him. “Both figuratively and literally.”

“Do you still want to go home?”

“Yeah, all this shopping made me tired. Unless there’s something else you wanted to see?”

“No, I was mostly suggesting things for you. I’ve been feeling tired for a while too, now.”

“We can arrange something else for another day, then. For now, I just want to head back home, lay on the futon, cuddle underneath the covers, and maybe watch a movie… how does that sound?” you grin. “I can even prepare some popcorn, if you’d like!”

He chuckles.

“It sounds wonderful.”

Just like his new life with you. Something he never thought he’d receive, nor deserved, at least in the beginning of his marriage.

Until you proved to him otherwise, showing him that the ways of his clan, those forcefully imposed on him, didn’t determine who he was, who he could become.

That he had much more power over his life, the ultimate decision on what to do remained on him and no one else.

It was to be a difficult path, one promising bumpy roads, which will probably never end if he were to be realistic…

But it’s just as you said. As long as both know, deep inside, that they’re doing their best to overcome these obstacles, as well as remembering that they’re always there for the other, alongside their ever-growing love… nothing else mattered.

It was you and Naoya against the world.

And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

🥺 I believe Naoya will always feel undeserving, even when they have a kid together and whatnot. He comes from a very difficult family, so be prepared to face these kinds of situations when in a relationship with him 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

omg i can imagine it already, when he's super old, reflecting on his life he had alongside you, his kids, and probably grandchildren too... only then will he finally admit he's happy with the life he had. jfc i'm crying goodbye.

Anyways, I know I deviated a bit from your imagine, but I still hope it was to your liking! the angst between the two is real, but so good too....

As always, thank you so much for sending in this! Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

53 notes · View notes

minisugakoobies · 1 year

Text

Into the Rush - Part One | KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, crack, Best Friend's Brother!AU, Dodgeball!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of feeling rejected and unlovable, a little angsty but you know me, pansexual!Taehyung in the house, side VMin, Wooga Squad alert, Himbo NamKook alert, dance leader Hobi is reimagined here as a dodgeball team captain, implied sex, the smut is to come (heh) in part two

Word Count: 7.3K for part one; total wc tbd

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: When your best friend Taehyung tells you he has the perfect thing to help you get over a broken heart, you’re surprised to learn he means dodgeball, the beloved game of sociopathic gym teachers everywhere. But even more surprising is the way you find comfort in the game, and so much more, as you fall into the rush with the help of another teammate - his brother, Seokjin.

A/N: Happy belated birthday, Jin! This was written as part of the Catch of the Century collab, hosted by MVPs @raplinesmoon @joheunsaram and @kithtaehyung!

Sooooo this underwent a few rewrites and then my life blew up as the December deadline got closer and then I decided to do Kinkmas because I'm just a gal who can't say no. I knew I could either rush to get this done, be upset at how shoddily written it is, and then hate myself for putting out something I wasn't proud of just to meet the deadline, orrrrr I could be kind to myself and recognize that I am a human and not a machine and sometimes despite my best efforts I fall short, and release it as a two-parter. Et voilà! Here is part one.

Unbeta'd as usual.

Please don't be a silent reader 🥺 I'd love to know what you think! 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 Part Two

“Dodgeball. You want to play dodgeball?”

You stare at your roommate incredulously. Taehyung nods.

“Dodgeball. The kids game? The beloved sport of sociopathic PE teachers everywhere? That dodgeball?”

He can’t be serious. Neither you nor he are the athletic type. But from the solemn look on his face as you continue to sputter in surprise, you know he’s not joking. Taehyung is many things - an artist, a daydreamer, the kindest soul you’ve ever met and your best friend of five years and counting - but he’s not a liar.

Still, when he’d walked into your room five minutes ago, yanked back the curtains to let the late-morning light in, and told you to get up because he had an idea, you’d assumed he’d wanted you to go with him down to the coffee shop on the corner so he could covertly admire his latest crush, the cute barista with the pink hair. Dodgeball was nowhere near the possibilities your mind conjured up.

Taehyung sighs. “Yes. Dodgeball. There’s an adult league that plays at the rec center on Saturdays and I want to join. And I want you to join, too.” He flops down on your bed, nudging you over so he can lie next to you, ignoring your grumbles as you make room. “I think it would be good for you to get out a little. Get some fresh air.”

“I have plenty of fresh air,” you inform him, gesturing to your bedroom window, which is currently cracked about an inch. It might be spring, but the chill that clings in the air still feels like winter.

“Uh-huh. Sure you do. But out of curiosity, when’s the last time you actually left the apartment, besides for work?”

“Um.” He’s got you there. Casting your mind back, you can’t even remember the last time you left the safety of your home to do anything other than clock in at the bartending job where you both work. “Does going to the mailbox count?”

It doesn’t, and he doesn’t even need to respond, just gives you his signature exasperated look, but the warmth in his brown eyes shimmers just beneath as always. “Pumpkin,” he begins, using one of the many silly nicknames he loves to address you by, knowing how much you hate cutesy stuff like that, “you can’t hide in here forever.”

An instant rebuttal floats through your mind. You absolutely can hide in your room for the rest of your life, if you so choose. The internet brings the world to your fingertips. Everything can be delivered these days. Okay, true, you’ll still need to leave for work, but that’s only until you finish your novel and net yourself a publishing deal. Then you can quit your crappy bartending job, build yourself the perfect blanket nest, and become the hermit you were always meant to be.

Joining a dodgeball team doesn’t fit into that plan. It’s going to require you to go outside. Outside is dangerous.

Outside is where he is.

At the sharp pang that stabs your gut, you turn to your roommate with a grimace. “I don’t know. I’m not really a… sports…person - and neither are you, frankly. And it’s a team sport, which means others will be relying on you. You really think this is something you can commit to? I mean, remember the gym?”

Last year, the two of you had joined a gym together at his suggestion, which you both had visited a grand total of one time. He later confessed he’d only signed up because a hot customer at the bar had convinced him to after a long evening of flirting. That short-lived commitment ended the moment Taehyung arrived at the gym and discovered that the hot patron’s promise to give Tae a full-body workout was not, to Tae’s disappointment, a euphemism, but only a sales pitch.

Again, Taehyung doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, he uses the one weapon in his arsenal that destroys you every time the two of you argue over what to do.

With a tilt of his head, Taehyung flashes you his big sad puppy dog eyes.

You sigh. “Goddamn it. Fine. Fine. Let’s play dodgeball.”

Immediately, Taehyung’s countenance changes, a brilliant, boxy smile crossing his face as he grins at your caving. “Great! Sign-ups are actually this afternoon, sooooo… up and at ‘em, cupcake! Let’s get moving.” He jumps up, holding out his hands, and you begrudgingly let him pull you out of bed. “You’re definitely going to need a shower before we meet the other players.”

“Have I ever told you how annoying you are?” you mutter as you follow him down the hallway towards your tiny kitchen to brew some coffee, knowing you’ll need the caffeine if you’re going to be socializing with strangers this afternoon.

He beams again, tossing his dark bangs out of his eyes. “All the time.”

The rec center is only a few blocks from your apartment, but you’d never stepped foot inside before Taehyung drags you down there to sign up for the league. Still, there’s a familiar scent when you walk into the building, the smell of rubber mats and sweat mingling together, stirring up memories of PE classes from grade school. The flashbacks make you shudder.

Taehyung shakes you out of your memories as he steers you towards a folding table that’s been set up in the lobby. “Come on, we check in here.” A friendly woman in a purple tracksuit sitting at the table waves you over.

“Hiya! Are you team leaders or free agents?” She laughs at your blank stares. “Okay, I’ll take that to mean you’re not here to sign up an existing team, but you’re free agents in search of a team to join!”

“Oh, yeah, that’s us,” Taehyung nods sagely, as if he knew that.

“Great! If you’ll just fill out these forms…” she hands you both a sheet of paper, “I will process your fees, and then I can point you in the direction of some teams looking to add some new players!”

Forms? Fees? This is more complicated than you’d expected. You’d figured you’d just walk in and play, like joining a pick-up game of basketball or something similar that people who like sports might do. “So, um, how does this work?”

The smile never leaves her face as Ms. Purple Tracksuit explains that you’ll be joining a team for the next ten weeks to play against other teams in a tournament ending in a championship match between the two best teams. “And the fee covers your uniform!”

“A uniform?”

She leans forward, whispering conspiratorially. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a t-shirt.”

After you hand in your form and make Taehyung pay your fee, Ms. Purple Tracksuit tells you to head into the main gymnasium, where the team leaders looking for new recruits are waiting. There’s another dose of déjà vu as you enter the room to find several clusters of players standing around, sizing you up as you walk in. It reminds you of being a kid, waiting on the sidelines while the other kids whisper to one another about who to pick.

“Uh, this is a little intense,” you whisper to Taehyung, clinging to his elbow as he blithely strolls between the groups. “I feel like I’m being judged.”

“Nah, this is a numbers thing,” he says. According to Ms. Purple Tracksuit, teams consist of six to ten players, so there’s a good chance you’ll be able to find a team together. If you’re picked at all, that is. “Whatever team needs two players will take us, I’m sure.”

Your roommate just wanders through life with a natural confidence that you’ve rarely seen in others. You suppose it makes sense, given how handsome and talented he is. Still irks you a bit.

“And what makes you say that?” You scan the room, taking in the other players. There are several others who wear similar expressions to your own, looking a little overwhelmed. It strangely gives you hope that you won’t be the only one here who doesn’t know what she’s doing.

And then there are those who look like they live, eat, and breathe dodgeball, like the two tall, muscle-bound gods to your left, both wearing a shirt that says “Rock the Balls.” Team leaders, you assume.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Taehyung replies distractedly, and you frown, following his gaze to see what caught his attention, since he’s clearly not listening, only to spy pink hair and a gorgeous smile that you recognize from your favorite coffee shop.

Grabbing his arm, you force your roommate to look at you as you hiss his name. “Taehyung. Tell me we’re not here because of that barista!”

“Hmm?” Tae’s starry-eyed expression is all the answer you need. Of course. Of course he dragged you here so he could flirt with his crush. How did you not see this coming? “What? Noooo, I told you, I want to play dodgeball! But isn’t it a nice coincidence that Jimin is here?”

“Right. Coincidence. You’re unbelievable.” With an exasperated sigh, you give him a push. “Well, go talk to your man. See if his team needs two new players.”

Taehyung doesn’t need telling twice, happily bouncing towards the barista. And now you’re alone in a gymnasium full of strangers, feeling left out again. As you slowly revolve in place, looking for somewhere to hide and wait for Taehyung to return, one of the muscle-bound gods approaches.

“Hey,” he says, giving you a little head nod. “You looking for a team?”

Technically, you suppose you are, but you should probably see if Taehyung will be dragging you on to Jimin’s team with him first. But as you glance at the god, with his wavy dark hair and silver lip ring nestled in the corner of a pair of rather pink lips, you’ve the urge to say yes. He and his buddy are mind-meltingly hot.

“I’m not sure. I’m here with a friend,” you finally respond. Super glad Taehyung forced you to shower today.

The god nods, eyes dragging over your frame. If you touched your cheeks right now, you’re pretty sure they’d be blazing hot under his gaze. “That’s cool. I’m Jungkook, by the way, and this is Namjoon.” He nods to the other god, whose lips quirk in a cool half-smile.

“Sup,” he rumbles, jerking his chin in your direction. He runs a hand through his short, dark hair, fingers scratching over the lines buzzed into the sides. “We run Rock the Balls. And we’re looking for two new members.”

“Actually, that’s gonna be three new members,” a familiar voice declares behind you. Your eyes widen before you spin to find yet another handsome man behind you. But this one you know well.

“Jin-ah!” Throwing your arms around his neck, you attack Seokjin with a hug, grinning as his squeaky laugh echoes through the gymnasium. It’s been nearly a year since you’ve seen Taehyung’s older brother, but he looks mostly the same - the same warm brown eyes surrounded by ever-deepening laugh lines, the same perfect cupid’s bow twitching as he smiles as you. The only difference is that his hair is a little shaggier now, a fluffy brown cloud that bounces when you finally release him.

“I could get used to a hello like that,” Seokjin grins.

“When did you get home?” you ask, vaguely aware that the gods have drifted away. “And what are you doing here?”

“Got in two days ago. I would’ve stopped by to see you and Tae-yah, but I needed to get my land legs back first.” Seokjin probably means that pretty literally, since he’s spent the last year on a research station in the middle of the ocean. As a marine biologist, he works at a local lab run by a federal agency, studying the effects of ocean pollution on various species of fish. Occasionally, he has to do field work, but this last round was his longest stint yet, taking him away from home for nearly twelve full months. “When I texted him this morning, he mentioned that he was joining a dodgeball team, and I… well, I had to check that out for myself.” You both laugh. “So I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You definitely did that!” you confirm. “I want to hear all about your research trip. Did you find anything interesting? Discover any new species?” You lean in excitedly. “Did you finally find some mermaids??”

Seokjin tuts. “Aish, how many times do I have to tell you, I’m not a deep sea diver, I’m just a guy pulling water samples off a dock?”

“Yeah, whatever, Jin Cousteau.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was really hoping that that nickname would’ve died out in the last year.”

“Oh no, that one’s for life. And listen, you can downplay your job all you want, but I know the deal. You just can’t tell me anything because the government forces you to keep those secrets locked down. But I’ll get the truth out of you someday.”

“Oh?” Seokjin cocks an eyebrow. “And just how d-”

“Hyung!!”

“Oof!” Seokjin grunts as your roommate launches himself at his brother, tackling him in a bear hug. When the affectionate embrace becomes a wrestling match in the middle of the gym, you feel a presence at your side, and turn to find Jimin and another man watching the melee with a surprised look on their faces.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure them, “they’re always like this.”

“Uh, okay,” the barista chuckles. “Um, I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Hoseok. Hoseok-ah, this is YN, Taehyung-ah’s roommate.”

“Hey.” The other man grins a smile that can only be described as a beam of pure sunshine, and you wonder if this dodgeball league is for models only, because you’re basically surrounded by nothing but gorgeous people.

“Hi. Um, and that is Seokjin, Tae-yah’s brother,” you gesture to the skirmish.

“Mmmice to meet eww!” Seokjin’s response is a little muffled by Taehyung’s armpit, but he manages to wave.

“Hyung, why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?” Taehyung whines.

“Anted oo urprise!” Seokjin finally untangles himself from his brother’s headlock. “Wanted to surprise you,” he says again, more clearly.

“We’re starting a new team, and we could use three players, if you’d all like to join us?” Hoseok asks.

“Are you sure you want this on your team?” you reply, gesturing to Taehyung and Seokjin.

“I think we can handle them,” Jimin grins, and Taehyung’s smile turns blinding. “Besides, we could use that energy on the court!”

“Yeah,” Hoseok agrees. “Also, we’re a brand new team, so we’re desperate!”

“That’s my favorite word.” Seokjin’s shoulders shake as he cracks himself up. “We’re in!”

Hoseok smiles. “Fantastic. Welcome to the Seven Slamurai!”

Once you’ve finished signing up for Hoseok’s team, you, Taehyung, and Seokjin decide to grab some dinner together. Another thing about Seokjin that hasn’t changed during his time away is his voracious appetite, so you take him to an all-you-can-eat bbq restaurant not far from the rec center.

As the soju starts flowing and the plates start piling up, Seokjin tells you about his year on the ocean. He starts out with a disclaimer, warning you that his research isn’t interesting, and he’s not entirely wrong. Most of it goes over your head, since it’s been years since you last took a biology course. But it’s not really what he’s talking about that keeps you focused on him, it’s how he talks about it that holds your attention. You’re fascinated by his passion for his work. His dedication to studying ocean life in order to preserve and protect it. It makes you wish you had a cause of your own to defend.

And then, of course, as the liquor catches up with him, he tells you all the gossip about the other crew members on his station - the hookups, the fights, all the little scandals that brought the drama to the high seas. Seokjin’s always been a good storyteller, knowing just what to say to keep you and Taehyung laughing.

“But what about you?” you ask when Seokjin pauses to stuff some pork belly in his face. “Did you have any flings with any of the other scientists? Hmmm? Dip your fishing rod in company waters?”

“Gross,” Taehyung mumbles around a mouthful of beef bulgogi.

Seokjin shakes his head. “Nah. I didn’t click with anyone there like that. Honestly, we spent so much time together each day that by the end of it, I was dying to get away from most of them, which was really hard to do since we were basically stranded together in the middle of nowhere! So I spent a lot of my downtime hiding in my bunk, reading old research papers that I found in the station’s library.”

“You read research papers for fun?” Taehyung looks horrified.

Downing another shot of soju, you lean towards Seokjin, licking the peach-flavored drops from your lips. “Come on. You’re telling me you went an entire year without hooking up with anyone? Not even a little making out?”

“Nope.” Seokjin pops the ‘p.’ At your incredulous look, he laughs, lifting his shoulders. “What? A year’s not that long! I made it just fine.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, “it’s not that long. Besides, he was probably jerking off nonstop.”

Soju flies out of Seokjin’s nose as you and Taehyung burst into raucous laughter. Seokjin scolds his brother, who argues back as he always does, telling the elder to loosen up, while you sit quietly, chin in hand, smiling to yourself as you watch the fireworks, realizing how nice it is to have Seokjin home again.

He and Taehyung are pretty much a package deal. You’d met Taehyung first during your senior year of college. At the time, Seokjin was finishing up his graduate program at the same school, and his plans to move out of his and Taehyung’s apartment upon graduation and roll right into some field work had Taehyung feeling like he was being left high and dry. You’d ended up becoming Taehyung’s new roommate that summer, and then it had turned out that Taehyung’s worries were all for naught, because Seokjin still spent most of his free time hanging out at his (now your) place, anyway.

You didn’t mind then and you don’t mind now. Seokjin’s a good balance to all of Taehyung’s extremes. Where Taehyung has his head in the clouds, Seokjin’s feet are firmly planted in the ground. Taehyung can be mercurial, even flaky sometimes, but Seokjin’s rock-steady. They’re not complete opposites in everything, though. Just like his brother, Seokjin has a big heart.

Once Seokjin runs out of steam, Taehyung shrugs. “I’m just saying, being with someone isn’t the only way to be satisfied. Just look at me. I’m single and I’m happy.”

He looks almost smug as he states this, and something inside you snaps. The last thing you want to hear from Taehyung is another speech about loving yourself. You’ve heard plenty of those over the last few weeks. You do love yourself.

You just wanted someone else to love you, too.

Pointing your chopsticks at him, you frown. “Oh, please don’t start! One, you were just dating a guy last month, so it’s not like you’ve gone an entire year without being with someone, and two, you literally just dragged me onto a freaking dodgeball team so you could start dating another! So I don’t want to hear any platitudes about embracing your singleness or anything like that.”

Taehyung is silent for a moment after your outburst. “Sorry,” he finally says, poking at the remains of the kimchi on his plate. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Seokjin’s gaze bounces between the two of you. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

Taehyung sees you nibbling on your bottom lip and he turns to his brother. “I can explain. Buttercup here-”

“Buttercup can speak for herself,” you interject, “and don’t call me that.” With a sigh, you slug back another shot of soju and look at Seokjin. He’s waiting patiently to hear what you have to say. “I was… kinda seeing someone a few months ago. And I thought that I had something with them, and it turned out that I was wrong. They didn’t feel the same way I did, so…” You trail off, not sure how to say ‘so I spent the last few months crying in my room over a broken heart.’

Luckily, Seokjin spares you this confession, nodding sympathetically. “I gotcha,” he says simply, and you nod back, stuffing some rice into your mouth so you don’t cry at the warmth in his expression.

“I don’t know why you’re being so cryptic about who it was,” Taehyung frowns. “She’s talking about Yoongi.”

Something passes over Seokjin’s face quickly, so fast you almost miss it as you smack your roommate on his arm. He yelps in shock.

“What? He was going to find out eventually, they’re best friends!”

You know this, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. Seokjin is actually the one who introduced the two of you, at the party he threw before he left for his research trip. You remember that night very clearly, can close your eyes and picture Yoongi standing there, with silver hair and silver hoops in his ears, dark cat eyes shimmering as Seokjin gave him your name, and you feel that same swoop in your stomach as you did then. Only now it comes with a painful twist of your heart as well.

Falling for Yoongi happened so quickly. You’d immediately bonded over a shared love of hip-hop and whisky, spending the party huddled together on the couch, snarking over Seokjin’s music collection and liquor selection, talking until the sun came up and Seokjin started throwing everyone out. As you left, you’d asked Seokjin for Yoongi’s number. But before you even entered it into your phone, a text appeared from Yoongi himself. He confessed he’d asked Seokjin for your number as well.

“I haven’t talked to Yoongi-yah in a while.” Seokjin glances at you. “You know how hard it was for me to keep in touch. There’s no cell phone reception in the middle of the ocean, and the internet seemed to come and go at will. At least I heard from you two occasionally, but I didn’t hear from Yoongs except on my birthday, and we didn’t… you didn’t come up.” He looks apologetic as he says those last words, and your heart pangs again.

“It’s okay, why would I have?” you snort. “Like I said, it turned out to be a big bunch of nothing between us.” Despite what you thought. What you felt.

A server appears at the table to drop off the bill, and you welcome the interruption, wanting to go home and crawl into the safety of your bed again, feeling like it was a mistake to leave in the first place. Taehyung and Seokjin fight over who is going to pay, with Taehyung winning, practically throwing his card at the server, but you’re too distracted by your thoughts to enjoy the scene.

Texting with Yoongi had turned into late night conversations. Going to concerts and bars to check out new musicians, doing whisky tastings and visiting distilleries. It felt like you were glued at the hip for a few months, and the more you got to know him, the harder you fell. Like the way you fell into his bed, over and over.

But nothing sticks out in your memory more than that last night, the last time you saw him, when you finally found the courage to tell him how you felt. You’ll never forget the sad look on his face. It told you everything you needed to know before he even spoke.

“Buttercup?” Taehyung’s voice pulls you from your reverie. “You ready to go?” He and Seokjin are staring at you, both on their feet already, waiting to leave.

With a nod, you rise, and follow them out into the night.

Despite the name, the Seven Slamurai consists of nine players. (When you asked why, Jimin rolled his eyes and said he’d tried to argue with Hoseok over the moniker, but Hoseok was insistent that the name stay true to his favorite movie.) In addition to Hoseok, Jimin, Seokjin, Taehyung, and yourself, there are four others at your first practice session on Monday night at the rec center - Wooshik, Sunghwan, Seojoon, and Hyungsik. You exchange a few quick greetings with your new teammates before Hoseok gestures for you all to sit on the bleachers.

“Welcome everyone to our first team practice!” Hoseok smiles, clapping, and you lightly clap along until you realize no one else is. “Before we do some warm-ups, I thought I’d take a minute to explain the rules of the game, for those of you who haven’t played before.”

He launches into an overview of the sport. Most of it is familiar from your school days, but there are a few things that are new, like something about a rush, and a neutral zone, and a burden ball? You glance around to see if anyone else looks confused. Most of the new guys wear bored expressions. It’s safe to assume they’re experienced players. To your left, Taehyung is whispering something to Jimin, completely ignoring Hoseok’s spiel.

At least Seokjin, on your right, seems slightly dazed by the long list of rules that Hoseok’s rattling off. Now that you think of it, you’ve never seen Seokjin in any athletic context. As far as you know, he doesn’t play any sports, just like you and Taehyung, and he’s not a gym rat. So you have no idea what to expect from him on the court. Maybe he’ll be just as awkward as you’re expecting to be.

“Any questions?” Hoseok finishes up. There’s a moment of silence from the group, and then he claps his hands. “Okay! Then let’s warm up a little.”

You move from the bleachers to a mat on the floor and Hoseok leads everyone through a series of stretches. It’s been a long time since you’ve done any, so you’re not surprised when your toes remain fully out of your reach. Jimin, on the other hand, has folded himself in half, forehead practically touching the ground as he holds on to both feet. Turning to Seokjin to make a comment, you’re surprised to find him in a similar position.

He catches you looking. “Yoga,” he explains with a wink.

“Damn. Maybe I should start,” you grunt, giving up.

“The games are played with teams of five, which means we’ll have four alternates for each match,” Hoseok explains once everyone’s limbered up. “For today, I’d like us to run through a practice game, four on each side. I’m going to stay out and watch, to help me get a feel for who might be a starter and who might be an alt.”

The group splits in half, with you, Taehyung, Seokjin, and Jimin on one side, and the rest on the other. Hoseok stands at one end of the line in the middle of the court, where six balls lie waiting.

“Okay, ready, set!” And with a sharp blast of the whistle hanging from his neck, Hoseok brings the game to a start.

Immediately, Jimin and Taehyung run forward towards the center line, reaching for a ball each, while the other team mirrors their actions, rushing forward. But you? You freeze in the scramble, hands automatically coming up to shield your head. And as the first balls fly towards your side, you scream.

And so does Seokjin.

“Shit!” you curse as one of the rubber balls bounces off your arm. That’s definitely going to leave a mark.

“Fuck!” Seokjin yelps as he’s smacked in the shoulder by another ball.

Tweet!

The action stops as Hoseok blows his whistle. His sunny smile is gone, replaced by an intense look, eyebrows furrowed, mouth turned down. It’s intimidating, especially since it’s aimed directly at you.

“That was… not bad,” he says slowly through gritted teeth, speaking as though the words hurt him. “But maybe this time, you two should try joining the opening rush? Remember, no one can throw a ball at you as long as you’re in the neutral zone, so you’ll have time to grab and get back out of the line of fire.”

He glances from you to Seokjin, who nods as you grin in embarrasment. Great, you’ve already been identified as a weak player. You were hoping you could at least pretend to know what you were doing for a little while. Fly under the radar.

Taehyung wraps an arm around your waist. “Come on, ladybug, it’s not that scary. You just gotta jump in. Don’t think, just go.”

You shake him off with a scoff. Easy for him to say. You saw the way he was running around the court a minute ago, taking to the chaos like a duck to water. Should’ve known he’d turn out to be a natural athlete on top of all his other annoyingly amazing traits.

The game restarts, and this time you make an attempt to run towards the center line, but still hesitate, flashbacks of being pelted with balls running through your brain. Why did you agree to this? You always hated dodgeball in school!

Seokjin, on the other hand, joins Jimin and Taehyung at the line, and scoops up a ball before dashing back to where you’re frozen. The balls start flying again, and once again you’re out before anyone else. After a few more minutes, Hoseok ends the play.

“That was better!” he nods. “But let’s try it again, and this time maybe you can make it all the way forward, huh, YN?” His tone is encouraging, but his smile seems strained.

As you shuffle back towards the end of the court, you nudge Jimin. “Is Hoseok okay? He looks a little stressed.”

Jimin shoots you a lopsided smile. “He’s trying not to be as… intense… as he usually gets. We got kicked off our last team because he went a little overboard with his, uh, enthusiasm during the practice matches.”

The whistle blows before you’re ready, and you decide to take Taehyung’s advice, so you bolt forward without thinking, snatch up a ball, and then back away, not wanting to turn your back to the men behind you. In doing so, you catch Wooshik’s eye, and he grins coldly, winding up.

“Shit!” you yell, jumping out of the way in time. Taehyung dives in to catch it, sending Wooshik out of the game. But you’re not safe, as Seojoon takes aim next. Seokjin is next to you, trying to decide where to throw the ball in his hand, so you duck behind him, mimicking his movements. Eventually, he realizes he has a shadow.

“Are you using me as a human shield?” He bobs to the left. You follow.

“It’s not my fault you’re so broad!”

Seokjin honks a noisy mix of delighted laughter and insulted exclamation. Seojoon tires of waiting for you to emerge from behind Seokjin, so he pitches the ball forward, a low toss heading for Seokjin’s legs. Seokjin bends gracefully to catch the difficult throw, taking Seojoon out of the game, and as Seokjin doubles over, you snap the ball in your hands towards Hyungsik, hitting him directly in the side. Another ball rolls towards your feet, so you scoop it up and nail Sunghwan dead center of his chest.

And with that triple play, your side wins, with all four players still in.

There’s no whistle to end the game, as Hoseok’s mouth falls open, gawking wide-eyed at you. “She’s a sniper,” he whispers in an awed voice. Everyone turns to stare at you.

“What?” you ask, looking around. “What did I do now?”

According to Jimin, it’s tradition for the dodgeball teams to go out for drinks after practices and matches, so after hitting the locker room, the nine of you meet up at the Pied Piper, a quiet bar around the corner from the rec center. Thank god Taehyung convinced you to bring a change of clothes. You’d foolishly assumed you wouldn’t break a sweat, but you sure as fuck had.

Since the rec center isn’t that big, the practice schedules are staggered out, with only two other teams meeting on Wednesday nights - the Dodging Divas and Rock the Balls. By the time your team arrives at the bar, the others have already claimed most of the tables. As Taehyung and the others push the remaining tables together, Hoseok, Seokjin, and you sidle up to the bar to start ordering drinks.

Once the bartender drifts away to start pulling drafts, Hoseok turns to you with a bright smile. “Congrats, the two of you are definitely going to be starters.”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement.

“Me? Really?” you squeak, glancing at Seokjin, who also appears dumbfounded. “Why?”

Hoseok leans against the bartop. “Look, I’ve been playing this game for long enough to know a strong arm when I see it,” he declares solemnly, tapping your bicep with two fingers. “I think with my help, you could be one of the best snipers out there. As for you,” he nods at Seokjin, “I think your flexibility is going to come in handy, like it does for Jimin. Also, I saw the way you two were working together on the court. If we can hone your skills, you’ll be an unstoppable duo for sure.” He grins. “The rest of the league won’t know what hit them, when the Seven Slamurai come through.”

The bartender returns with the first three beers of your order, and Hoseok carries them away with another nod, leaving you and Seokjin staring at each other in silence.

Then you both burst into laughter.

“Is he for real?” Seokjin asks, eyebrows raised. The bartender sets more glasses in front of you, and he grabs one, taking a long sip.

“I think so. I got the idea from Jimin that dodgeball means a lot to him, but wow. What he said is absolutely ridiculous, and yet… I do feel oddly inspired.”

“I know what you mean.” Seokjin grins. “Should we correct him, though?”

“About what?”

“Us working as a team. We weren’t working together so much as you were hiding behind me.”

His grin turns teasing, and a retort builds itself on your tongue. But before you can fire it off, a figure at the other end of the bar catches your eye. One of the Rock the Balls gods. Namjoon, maybe? He nods at you, dimple popping as his lips curl into a slight smirk. You blink, then raise one of the glasses of beer in his direction.

Seokjin follows your gaze. “Friend of yours?”

“Not really. One of the other teams’ leaders. We met at the sign up.”

Seokjin hums, giving Namjoon a second look. He taps the bartop while you help yourself to one of the pints. “Hey, so what you were talking about at dinner the other night… about Yoongi? I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You should’ve known the subject would come back up. With a little shrug, you attempt a grin, but only succeed in a grimace. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I know. But I’ve also been where you are, having feelings for someone that go unreciprocated, so… I’m sorry. I know it hurts.” He pauses, gaze locked on the glass in his hand. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a total idiot.”

“I’m not going to argue there,” you quip, letting out an airy laugh. "But I'm the one who imagined the whole thing, so really, I'm not any smarter."

He looks at you then, a sober expression on his face. “I mean it. He’s the idiot. Not you. So just - just don’t let his stupidity have any bearing on how you might think about yourself, okay?”

You blink, wondering if you’ve suddenly gone completely transparent, because he’s seeing right through you. How are you not supposed to take Yoongi’s rejection as proof that you’re unlovable? If you were lovable, then wouldn’t he love you?

“I… okay.” Nodding, you reach for the glasses that have been sitting in front of you for a few minutes. “Um. We should probably get these to the rest of the team before they get antsy.”

Taehyung pats the seat next to him when you return to the group, and Seokjin takes the empty seat on your other side. “Hoseok just told us the good news,” he informs you, happily grabbing one of the beers in your hand.

“What, that Jinnie and I are gonna be starters?”

“That we are gonna be starters! You, me, hyung, Jimin-ah, and Hoseok-ssi.” Taehyung beams brightly as Jimin leans across him at the mention of his name. “He said we’ll work on our teamwork next practice, so we’re ready for our first match next weekend!”

“Oh! Well, damn, look at us go!” You lift your glass and everyone else does the same. “Cheers!”

“To teamwork!” Seokjin adds, eyes crinkling as he clinks his glass against yours. You grin back before taking a big sip. Maybe you’ll survive this season after all.

You’re not going to survive this season.

“Come on! Faster!”

A shrill whistle blast sounds as you hit the wall, spinning around before running back towards the center line. It’s Thursday night, so you’re at practice again. Your team has been running drills for only ten minutes now, but you’re pretty sure you’re going to die, panting terribly as your toe hits the crosses the line.

“Pick it up!” Hoseok yells as you spin again, heading back for the end of the court. As your fingertips reach the wall, he blows the whistle again, and you flatten your palms, pressing your forehead against the cold cement.

“I did not sign up for this,” Seokjin huffs next to you. “I signed up to dodge balls. This is not dodging balls!”

“Are you two okay?” Taehyung is neither panting nor huffing as he eyes you both with concern.

“How are you not dying like us?! You don’t work out!” Yelling takes up too much of your oxygen, and you sink to the ground, legs folding underneath you.

Taehyung shrugs. “It was only a few running drills. Nothing to get worked up over.”

Unable to respond, you settle for giving him the evil eye. You jump as Hoseok’s whistle sounds again.

“If he doesn’t stop it with that thing, I’m gonna make him eat it,” you mutter under your breath. Seokjin’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as he reaches out a hand to pull you to your feet.

Hoseok’s inner drill instructor doesn’t take a break when the practice game starts, alternates on one side, starters on the other. Somehow, he manages to run, catch, throw, and yell instructions the entire time, like a demented multihyphenate. It would be impressive if it weren’t irritating.

You play a total of three rounds against the alternates. The first round is awkward, filled mostly with Hoseok’s manic shouting. At one point, he tells you to cover the right and Taehyung to flank the left, and as the two of you run to switch sides, you run smack into each other. The alternates win.

In the second round, things go better. There are no collisions, but there’s also not much cohesion, either. You try to repeat last practice’s winning move, ducking behind Seokjin, but he’s too unpredictable, jumping all over the place to try to catch throws, and you’re not able to keep from getting hit. Your team loses again.

When the whistle signals the end of the round, you head for the bleachers, where you’ve stashed a bottle of water and a towel, having realized last practice that both items were desperately needed. The rest of your team follows.

“Well, this isn’t working,” Hoseok sighs, fanning himself with his shirt. “They’re kicking our asses.”

“Maybe - and just hear me out - yelling isn’t the way to motivate us?” Jimin suggests, tossing his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. You can practically see little hearts dancing in Taehyung’s eyes as he watches the motion.

Hoseok’s head twists towards his friend, but instead of swearing at him like you expect, he just stares. “I’m. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

Jimin claps him lightly on the shoulder. “Yep.”

Hoseok stares for a few more seconds, and you’re on the verge of asking if he’s okay when he finally speaks. “Okay, new plan. Let’s just go out there and, ugh, have fun, okay?” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he leads Jimin and Taehyung back out onto the court.

Seokjin leans over. “If we lose, ten bucks says he snaps and eats that whistle himself.”

You laugh, gently pushing Seokjin back onto the court.

“Hey. Should we try that shield thing again?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I mean, I was trying last round, but you were kinda all over the place.”

“I’ll try to be more obvious with my moves. Or I guess you can guide me? Just tell me which way to go.”

You nod, and then you’re off, running for the center line as the round starts. Without Hoseok barking orders at the group, there’s a definite shift in the atmosphere. As you stoop to sweep up a ball, quickly diving behind Seokjin’s tall frame, scoping out your next target, it hits you - not a ball, but a thought.

You’re having fun.

Grinning wildly, you hiss “Left!” Seokjin immediately darts left, and you line up behind him, ready and waiting. A throw from the other team goes high, and Seokjin leaps towards it, snagging the ball out of the air. As soon as you peek out from around his side, you hit Wooshik, ball bouncing off his thigh with a satisfyingly loud “thock!”

“Yes!” Seokjin throws his hand out for a high five. You slap it quickly, ducking another toss. On your other side, Hoseok and Jimin make tandem catches, and the match ends with your team victorious.

“That was so much better! I really feel like we’re an actual team now,” Hoseok beams, looking genuinely happy again. “One more week of practice and then it’s match time!”

The others drift towards the locker rooms as Seokjin nudges you with his hip. “Did that work better for you this time?”

“Yeah, it did. I guess that’s how it should always work, huh - me giving you orders and you following them blindly?” You wrap your towel around your neck, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Seokjin laughs, running his hand through his fluffy hair, which has gotten curly in the humidity from the game. Rather than spout off a snarky retort, he tugs on the ends of your towel, pulling you towards him. His deep brown eyes trail over your face, landing on your mouth, before his gaze snaps back to yours.

“That works for me,” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his plush lips. “Just say the word and I’ll follow.”

And then he walks away.

You stare at the locker room doorway that he disappears into for a good minute after he’s gone, mind racing. That’s not the first time the two of you have been that close - both Seokjin and his brother are very cuddly people, and you’ve always been comfortable with showing them affection in the form of warm hugs or snuggles on the couch.

But whatever just happened was not that. The moment between you felt charged. Full of something like… possibility.

With a sigh, you shake off the confusing thoughts and gather your things to head for the locker room, desperately needing a shower. And a drink.

Taglist 1: @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @hesperantha; @seokjinger-ale; @bangtanintotheroom; ��@taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @wonieclub; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @acquiescence804; @itsirisz; @velvetskize; @starbtslove; @ajw05; @bruisedscrewedandtattooed; @minesuga; @greezenini; @aznstoner; @jkkkkkay; @xuxibelle; @soeur-de-ame; @boraborabts; @signmybook; @bbl32; @codeinebelle; @here4btsfics; @itbtoblikethatsometimes; @kookprada; @addictedtohobi; @shatzkrinslinzki; @jaiuneamesolitaiire; @joonjulyagust-d; @jinsquishes; @btsgotjams27; @allamericanuniverse; @pleaseshutupsara; @guvgguk; @goodgollyitslolly; @laylasbunbunny; @goldensugarywaffles; @jadda98; @lovelye79; @moonacholy;

If your URL is italicized, tumblr won’t let me tag you! 😤 Check your settings!

291 notes · View notes

prodigal-explorer · 4 months

Text

my roleplay information/application!

hey guyssss, so like i'm kinda desperate for rp partners so i'm just gonna try my luck here and see if any of y'all are interested in rping with me! feel free to read through this information and message me if you are interested!! as long as you meet my requirements, i would love to rp with you!!

basic information

i am 18 (19 in a few weeks) and i'm okay rping with any age, but i will not rp anything relating to nsfw with a minor. not even implied nsfw, it's just very uncomfortable. but if you're 18+, i'll rp anything on this list with you!

i only rp semi-lit/descriptive. this means at least five sentences, detailed responses that aren't just surface level. it's hard to respond to stuff that's lazy, so please please please just put in the effort if you want high quality responses in return!

the fandoms i roleplay are sanders sides, undertale, your turn to die, and omori. i dabble in oc rp, but it's not very common for me since i don't really have many ocs that i like enough to rp with.

my favorite types of roleplay are heavy angst and whump. i love really dark concepts, and it's rare that i won't do something that's dark and angsty. i struggle with concepts that are just fluff because i prefer rps with a lot of conflict and struggle.

my only triggers are constant discussion about body type/comparing body types and descriptive talk of medical needles. other than that i will do literally anything lol.

i am filipino-american, audhd, physically disabled, and i love to incorporate these aspects of my identity into the characters i play. if you don't like that, we probably won't make very good rp partners.

i hate hate HATE poking. please don't remind me of the rp after ten minutes of me not responding. please don't remind me of the rp after ten HOURS of me not responding. i know it exists, i just need time to reply. if you nag me about responding, i probably will wait even longer to reply because it's intimidating.

i love to chat oorp! feel free to leave a silly message, even if it has nothing to do with rp!

scroll all the way to the bottom of the post if you want to see writing examples!! below are just specific tidbits of information pertaining to each fandom i rp!

sanders sides specific information

the main side i love to play is roman. i will always want to play roman in every single tss rp, he's just me, he's my number one homie, my favorite character of all time.

i can also play any of the other sides, but my characterization for them is not as solid as roman.

i don't really like patton in roleplays unless he's a minor character or an antagonist/villain. i am very good at playing patton as a villain, but i don't really like playing him in any other context. i have so many aus where patton is a villain or antagonist, so if that's your jam, you've come to the right place!

i will do mindscape or human aus, i love both!

i am okay with ocs but i will not do canon side x female oc. it just makes me very uncomfortable to ship sides with female characters.

some of my favorite ships are roceit, prinxiety, logince, anaroceit, analogical, intrulogical, and loceit.

the only ships i WILL NOT do are moxiety, royality, moceit, logicality, intruality, and remrom. every other ship, i'm completely okay with.

i love rping as remy or emile picani!!

i have SO MANY IDEAS for this fandom. like literally hundreds of aus. so please message me if you want to rp anything with angst, or drama, or anything like that because i have SO MUCH.

undertale specific information

so fun fact i'm actually kind of bad at undertale rp.

it's not that i'm awful i just don't have a lot of experience, but i'm working on it!

the main characters i like to play are papyrus, undyne, alphys, toriel, asgore, and gaster.

i can also play asriel/flowey, sans, frisk, mettaton, grillby, and chara if necessary.

i am totally fine with ocs, bring them on!

i don't really like rps with the au sans stuff? nothing against it, i just don't really know much about it and in the nicest way possible i don't really care. i prefer to stick with canon and prequel/sequel aus instead of aus that change up the characters' personalities and stuff.

my favorite undertale au of all time is handplates i have so many thoughts about it and i would love to rp it!

i love angsty rps but undertale is actually one of the only fandoms where i love to rp fluff for it. undertale is just such a goofy game and i love emulating that style of humor in rp!

ships i enjoy are soriel, papyton, alphyne, sansby, and whatever the ship name for alphys x gaster is?

the only undertale ships i WILL NOT rp are anything involving the child characters (frisk, chara, asriel, monster kid), and anything that ships undyne with a guy. i'm also not a huge fan of asgore x toriel but i'll do it if you really want me to!

your turn to die specific information

i am so new to rping in this fandom but i really want to anyway!! trust, i know all the lore, i just need some solid experience!

my favorite characters to play are jou, reko, nao, gin, kai, shin, hiyori, and sara.

i will play q-taro, mishima, or alice if necessary!

i am very bad at keiji, i don't think i can play him well.

i love canon and au roleplays equally! i would love to do either way!

i like pretty much all the ships, it would be easier to list ships i don't like.

i don't like any ships that involve the little kids (kanna, gin, hinako), any ships with a huge age gap (especially sara x keiji), and shin x hiyori. it's just...no.

omori specific information

i am very new to the fandom, so please have mercy on me if i get something wrong lol!

my favorite characters to play are kel, hero, aubrey, and mari!

i can play sunny if necessary.

i will not play basil. i actually don't like basil being present in roleplays, he's just a character i personally dislike. i'm fine with him showing up occasionally as a minor character, but i just don't like him being a big part of roleplays.

i will roleplay canon and aus! i love both! but bear in mind i am a bit more hesitant to rp ships in canon, but in aus i have zero reservations!

my favorite ships are anything involving sunny, kel, and aubrey being together, but my number one otp is hero x mari!

the only ships i WILL NOT do are ships that have basil in them, especially basil x sunny or basil x kel. they just don't sit right with me personally.

i don't really know much about the minor characters of the game...i might need a bit of guidance if you want to use a character that isn't a part of the main six! but i am completely fine with it as long as you're okay with me being a bit clueless.

writing samples!!!

The streets were soft, the dusty sidewalks concealed by powdery snow that made Brooklyn look like a wedding. Roman stepped lightly, wondering how high he would have to hold himself to keep his foot from sinking in the snow, ruining the shiny white blanket that protected his bare feet from the cruel asphalt.

His book remained tucked under his jacket, as if it needed protection from the biting wind. Roman didn’t think it was possible for something that carried such beautiful notions and ideas to be unfeeling, so he acted as though there was a beating heart somewhere between the pages. Nobody had ever told him there wasn’t one, so what was the harm in believing if it made the sky feel brighter, and the air feel warmer, and the world feel more connected?

When he came back to the small, tucked-away alley that he and his brothers were currently living in, he was happy to see a little fire that he could warm himself beside while he opened his new book, aching to see what was inside.

"Protect...me?"

Roman was unfamiliar. He was always used to protecting other people. He was tall, graceful and beautiful. Couldn't really throw a punch, but he had a way with his words that could get him absolutely anything he wanted. Including peace. He was used to standing between bullies and victims, seducing with his sweet smile and long eyelashes. Making anybody feel like they've been blessed just looking at him. With his parents always gone, and nobody to hold him during nightmares, Roman had gotten used to holding himself. But now, he just wanted to be protected so badly. He wanted to be truly loved by somebody besides himself.

"Okay..." he whispered, "Okay."

"Oh! Do you guys want to go to that restaurant across the street?" Patton asked, "We performed so well tonight, I think we all deserve a treat! Virgil, you hit that syncopation perfectly, and Janus, that riff was amazing! The crowd went wild for us! Drinks will be on me, as long as you all promise not to drink too much. I'll be the designated driver too. What do you say??"

Of course, this invitation was not extended to Logan. Patton didn't even notice Logan in the area, assuming that he was off sweeping the stage or packing up the van. Patton was the one who decided what everybody did, and he usually gave Logan the grease-work like that. He didn't really care very much about Logan, just because Logan wasn't as close to the group. There wasn't that bond of performing show after show, having fans that requested autographs, being followed and gushed over by paparazzi.

Since Logan was never onstage, nobody knew the face or identity of the man who wrote the songs that all these fans were so crazy about. And Patton sort of preferred it that way. He didn't really like the idea of Logan being a face of their band. Unlike Janus and Virgil, Patton wasn't sure how the public eye would recieve Logan. The man wasn't remotely ugly, but he was rather plain-looking. He tended to blend into the background of the rooms he occupied. He wasn't the type of look one would expect to be in a hugely successful band.

All the others had their "niche". Patton was the sweetheart, the nice one, the innocent one. Virgil was the quiet, brooding, mysterious one. And Janus was the charmer, able to seduce anyone with a wink and a smile. What was Logan? He didn't talk very much, he wasn't particularly nice, brooding, or seductive. Patton didn't like that Logan didn't exactly have an archetype. He didn't quite fit in.

Roman tilted his head with a polite smile and an appropriate amount of interest as Logan disclosed his name. It was nothing familiar to him, but he did think it was a beautiful-sounding name. He always loved when people's first and last names started with the same letter. It felt like a name out of a fairy-tale when it had that feature.

Listening to what Logan was saying, Roman couldn't help but go red, very embarrassed. He was bad at English, but he certainly wasn't stupid. He could tell that Logan was euphemizing heavily in order to preserve Roman's feelings, which made Roman both embarrassed that Logan felt the need to do this, and honored that Logan cared so much about how he felt. It was a really sweet gesture, honestly.

"You write music too?" he asked, very curious. "I would love to sing a song by you wrote. You will...pay me? Money?"

Roman wondered if Logan was offering him a job, or just wanting to have a jam session as friends and colleagues. He would be happy with either option, but he wanted to manage his expectations there and then, so there would be less awkwardness from false assumptions.

Roman looked at it and smiled as he read through the lyrics, his eyes carefully scanning from left to right as he ingested each lyric. His smile only grew.

"It is okay," he said, "I like messy handwriting. It means...it means your brain moves fast, and your hand must hurry to follow. I like this song. I think...I want to sing it. Do you want me to sing here? In front of everyone?"

Roman would definitely be willing to give Logan's song some publicity. And he adored the thrill of singing a song for the first time in front of a whole crowd of people. Roman wasn't the type to get stage fright. The more risky a performance was, the more excited he was to try and execute it. Roman had a bit of a shame deficiency, such was obvious with him singing those lyrics he wrote out loud multiple times.

His eyes were shining with enthusiasm, but also, with gratitude. He was thankful to Logan for the opportunity he had to bring this song to life, this brand new song that no one had ever heard before. The idea that its first breath of auditory life would be coming from Roman's own voice was so romantic that it almost made Roman want to sing it right there and then so he wouldn't have to wait anymore.

#roleplay #sanders sides roleplay #undertale roleplay #yttd roleplay #omori roleplay #sanders sides rp #undertale rp #yttd rp #omori rp #sanders sides #thomas sanders #tss #sanders sides fandom #undertale fandom #yttd fandom #omori fandom

20 notes · View notes

misery-has-no-company-now · 5 months

Note

Hola :3

Ya got any angsty Gov hc’s 👁️👁️ If so may we pls have some 🫴🫴🫴

**you don’t have to**

Hola! Do I ever not have angsty Gov hcs-

(Implied/referenced physical abuse, PA and VA are not nice in this, mild references to trauma and a strong dosage of insecurities)

He's ambidextrous because he was forced to be. He was originally left handed, but thanks to the way things were back when he came into existence, he wasn't allowed to use his left hand. Virginia would tie his left hand to the table or chair so that he wouldn't try to write with it. Gov learned quickly to stop that, though his handwriting was really shaky with his right. When Gov tried to eat with his left hand during one dinner, an already angry Penn took out his anger on him and broke his hand to get him to stop. Even now that the idea has eased out of existence, Gov is scared of doing anything with his left hand in front of Penn or Virginia.

Also, though his handwriting with his right used to be shakier earlier, that has changed and the trauma of being forced to not use his left means that his hand starts shaking terribly whenever he even holds a pen in that hand. He can type just fine with both hands on a computer though, since that he mostly learned himself with a bit of help from Mass, who wasn't really so damn stupid as to stop him from using his left hand. Now, the only hint that he's not naturally right-handed is that he struggles to write his 's', 'z' and 'e' s (since these are tough for because of the angle they're written in, or at least that's the case as far as I know)

He doesn't think he's worthy of anything unless he works. He thinks food is a treat given to those who work very hard so that they can continue to do the same and that sleep is a reward he is undeserving of because it is only for those who don't have as many responsibilities as he does [guess who told him these two things]. He thinks that he can only take a break if it is justified - which means when he has overworked himself to the point of falling sick. He never rests because it stresses him out more to try and relax than to just continue working, since he always feels like he has too much pending incomplete work to not stop doing it - he doesn't actually, those lazy people at the White House just keep pawning off their work to him and he doesn't even realise it. He goes days with only coffee and water since he feels that's all he should get since those are intended to help him work better anyway.

Also - his entire existence has been connected to a use, to a purpose for which he was created. As a result, he feels worthless and useless if he thinks he isn't fulfilling his purpose - which is to work for the people. He's also really scared all the time that if he doesn't reach the high expectations everyone else places on him all the time, he's going to get replaced and thrown away. He's really insecure about this so he keeps on trying to prove himself by striving to do better and better, and falling into a pit whenever he thinks he failed (which is a lot).

He has trauma from all the wars he's been in but doesn't realise it. Nor does anyone help him either. Neither does he ask for it, because he was never taught that it was okay to ask for help. Rather, he was told the very opposite. He gets scared and flinches at sudden loud sounds, and wakes up from nightmares in a cold sweat, but thinks those are completely normal stuff.

When you're born in a fire, you think the whole world is warm. But when you're born alone, you find the fire cold. (I make little to no sense here just ignore this) Gov was born in the middle of a war, and he was left alone to his own devices for most of the time; so fighting is all he knows how to do properly, and loneliness is his closest companion. He doesn't have any friends either; with everyone either seeing him as the people of the government who keep making terrible decisions (and so blaming him for it) or just as someone to use for their own benefits (something which has worsened his trust issues a lot too). But he doesn't think he needs any either, since that's not required for his work, and he's been taught by a less than good at being a parent Penn and Virginia that he shouldn't do anything other than carry out the role he was intended for.

He's also not used to getting anything without working for it. Florida got him a gift once and had meant it as a joke but Gov got so emotional over it and kept asking Flo why he'd gotten him something since he couldn't remember what he'd done to deserve it that Florida started feeling guilty (a rare moment) and just took him to Loui's home for some good food since that's the only way he knew how to comfort him. [He gave Gov a break for exactly 2.4 days]

Speaking of emotions, Gov doesn't know anything about then. He was never allowed to feel, or express his feelings either, and so he never learned anything but anger (directed at him from others) and fear (of others). All the emotions he has learned about over time, he hides behind a mask and a trained diplomatic voice. No one, not even the people who should be able to, can tell when something is wrong with Gov - especially since they all think that he's just always stressed, and any time he shows some other emotion is just a variant of this stress. (NY, NJ, Mass, and Utah eventually realise something is wrong, but that's a long and far way ahead in the future.)

Speaking of stress, that's all Gov knows truly. Stress, coffee, work, and headaches - the four constants of Gov's life, with the added touch of being yelled at by someone for something he isn't to blame for ever so occasionally enough to be daily. That and pain. It's all he's familiar with.

---

I've got many more, but I think this is enough for now so I'll stop here. Let me know if you'd like more though, I'm always willing to answer even if I don't do so until quite a while after you send the ask (but I love receiving them so feel free to send more asks). Btw I think this is the first time in a long while that you've asked me for headcannons without there being an ongoing conversation about these blorbos of us already, so that's there😂 /j. Sorry for the rather long wait to get this answer, but I hope you like it!

#referenced physical abuse #I made Gov sad again #welcome to the table #wttt #wttt florida #wttt gov #wttt pennsylvania #wttt virginia #but only mentioned #mostly #also in mentions - NJ & NY & LA & MA & UT #thanks for your ask!

27 notes · View notes

goingsparebutwithprecision · 2 months

Text

Fic writer interview

Thanking @sinni-ok-sessi for the tag!

How many works do you have on AO3? 13

What's your total AO3 word count? 50455 - holy shit, a whole nanowrimo!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Sleeping Arrangements (Good Omens) Habitual (Good Omens) Project New Hope (MCU) Passing the Time (Star Trek:DS9) With Friends Like These (Star Wars, The Mandalorian)

I think I kind of already knew about the top 3, but I would not have called the last two. Nice to see With Friends LIke These doing well, that was so much fun to write but I never felt like it found its audience, y'know

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Mostly not, alas - it feels very awkward to just repeatedly say Thanks <3, however genuinely and enthusiastically I would mean that! I want emoji reacts to AO3 comments, that's about the level I'm at. That being said, I'll try to make the effort if someone's written me an essay, because it's so cool to get that and I've had some really fun conversations that way

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I don't really do angsty endings. I've been known to write angsty fic, but I'm usually ending on an upswing...Story-Wise is probably the closest, being as how it's heavily implied that everybody involved is dead, and also Bilbo walks away at the end, but even that to me is more bittersweet than angsty.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Not Story-Wise, and probably not Lethe. But with the rest I don't know that there's much between them. The ship ones tend to end with a get-together, the dealing-with-shit ones tend to end on a found family gathering, and the funny ones end on punchlines; they're all happy but no stand-outs, if that makes sense.

Do you write crossovers? Write? Sure. Plan out intricately and in great detail? Absolutely. Finish? Never in my life. I tend to have the idea for a lot of crossovers too, but very few of those ever get started. Off the top of my head, the current list includes a Star Trek AOS/Disney's Atlantis fusion, thousands of words of BBC Merlin is happening in Starfleet now, a few incoherent sentences of post-Burial Mounds Wei Wuxian having absorbed all of its ghosts a la Matthew Swift of Blue Electric Angels fame, three scenes of Person of Interest and Castle, several pages of Phryne Fisher and Diana Prince are besties - ohhhhh, and my beloved "Oh Good, My Sith Found the Chainsaw" Star Wars/Lilo and Stitch nonsense, which is the only one of these I have any intention of finishing.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not as far as I remember. The closes I ever got was someone commenting on Project New Hope in a very "trying to start a fight about MCU Civil War" way, but claiming they agreed with my opinion on it despite MCU Civil War very much not happening in that universe. Very odd.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not really? The closest I've gotten in anything published is the blowjob letter in And With It My Constant Mind, which is more of an extended sext, and the ending of Untitled #3...the theme seems to be Cyrano De Bergerac and blowjobs, so make of that what you will.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know

Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Involves too much unfortunate-ordeal-of-being-known, I'm afraid. I'm in awe of people who do this though, the process mystifies me.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? I am invoking my god-given bisexual right not to choose. I cannot do it. Simply impossible. Cyrano/Christian/Roxane of Cyrano de Bergerac fame is probably a front-runner though.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Lin Chen's Hanahaki Research Project - I was having a lot of fun with character voices and style, and it was challenging me as a writer in interesting ways, but I think it needs more research and investment and full Nirvana in Fire rewatches than I'm ever going to commit to.

What are your writing strengths? Comedy, yearning, and sentences that sound good when you read them aloud.

What are your writing weaknesses? Actually finishing things and comedy (I contain multitudes)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Absolutely do not have the confidence to do that, thank you and good night.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? By published work, the MCU, unpublished I was not immune to Supernatural

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? Was not expecting this to be the trickiest one to answer, what the heck. Ummm. Idk. I get more enthused by specific ideas than by specific fandoms, I think - if I actively want to write for something it's because I've been Seized By An Idea(TM), Taken Hostage By An Idea, Had My Whole Brain Rewritten To Think Constantly About This Idea, rather than like abstractly, huh, it would be fun to write something for X

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I-love-all-of-my-children-equally.gif. No, that's a cop-out. Um. Usually I think whatever I've written most recently gets the most affection, so With Friends Like These is bang at the top. And With It My Constant Mind I suspect is going to have the most longevity at the top of my list, I was living with that one for years and I'm really really proud of how it turned out.

Right, no pressure tagging @starkey @missfangirll @july-19th-club @ereborne and any other writerly folks lurking out there who are interested :D

#goingspare rambles #goingspare writes #tag games

6 notes · View notes

notquitecogent · 1 year

Text

look me in the eye (tell me i'm the one)

At long last, I've finished a WIP.

This is another little Hellcheer joint, featuring Jealous & Pining!Eddie. Angsty (angst-ish?), but it's soft at the end because I can't help myself. Author's Note: I don't condone cheating unless it's done to Jason Carver.

(Also any cherry lip gloss and rum-and-coke references are a tribute to @majicmarker.)

If you see any typos no you didn't. Enjoy below or on Ao3.

TITLE: look me in the eye (tell me i'm the one) PAIRING: Eddie x Chrissy (F/M), Stranger Things s4 RATING: Mature WORD COUNT: ~2,400 CHAPTER COUNT: 1/1 WARNINGS: Infidelity, swearing, implied sexual content, being riddled with self-doubt

He should get used to it, he thinks, as he takes another deep drag of the Marlboro he’s been nursing for entirely too long out here behind Hawkins’ dingiest bar.

Inside, away from the freezing October air, the other guys are making the most of the break between sets – and by that he means sinking beers, taking a shit, maybe chatting up the entirely disinterested bartender who’s mixing rum-and-cokes with all the enthusiasm of a substitute teacher with a lobotomy.

Really, he should be doing the same. But Eddie’s got a lot on his fucking mind right now, okay? He’s busy out here, smoking and- and wallowing, trying desperately to pull himself together, to think his way out of the lead weight that sits in his chest whenever his brain fills up with Chrissy Cunningham – which these days is pretty much every five seconds.

He’s been – what would Wayne call it? – carryin’ on with her for months now; so many inglorious weeks of sneaking around behind her dipshit boyfriend’s back. Maybe that part should weigh the heaviest on his conscience, but Eddie finds hurting Jason Carver ’s feelings only fills him with a petulant sort of glee, like the big kid in the playground holding a much-loved toy above the little kid’s head. Like shoplifting from the gas station on Chainey Avenue where they always overcharge him for cigs.

Except it’s not like that, not really, because in the end Chrissy still goes back to Jason; still slips the ugly ’86 class ring back on after she’s done fixing her makeup in the trailer’s tiny bathroom, after she’s finished wiping away their come and their kisses from her pretty pink mouth.

She still goes home to the mansion in the nice part of town and calls upJase on the family telephone; still whispers and giggles and says,“Good night, baby, sweet dreams,” to someone who is in every possible way not Eddie, smiling as Carver tells her he loves her through the handset when the only thing slicking her lips any more is the cherry lip gloss that makes Eddie a little bit sick with how much he loves it (craves it, wants to lick it off her every second of every day).

He’s spiralling again. The cigarette has burned down to the filter, and Eddie has the uncanny urge to fucking eat it; swallow down the toxic little stub and poison himself just a little bit more than he already is.

He’s been in this mood for weeks, ever since the Homecoming game when he’d had to watch Hawkins High’s King and Queen reach their absolute peak All-American-Dreaminess. The Tigers had won, of course, but Eddie wasn’t there to see it. He’d lasted all of about 20 minutes watching Chrissy’s perky ponytail bouncing around as she cheered her heart out for her golden boy, with his blue eyes and his cover-of-Bop hair and his fucking letterman jacket.

(Even Henderson had noticed. “You think you’re being subtle, Eddie? You made us fight a clone horde of brainless zombies last week."

“So?” said Eddie insolently.

“They were all named Ja’zon.”)

Fuck, does he have any right to be this bitter? This pathetic?

He’d made the rules, after all – called the shots. Told her she didn’t owe him anything, didn’t have to pretend this was something it’s not – that they are something they’re not. He wasn’t going to say a fucking word about it to anyone, wasn’t in the business of making her already hard life even harder.

“Just good things when you’re with me, sweetheart,” he’d said into her hair one day near the start, when she’d looked like she was about to cry from guilt, and he’d cradled her against his chest with soft words and easy promises.“Just good thoughts, ok?”

He’d kissed her cheek and behind her ear, breathed in her perfume – flowery and sugar-sweet, just like her – and bit his lip so he didn’t cry too.

God, he was such a fucking martyr. And for what? For the tiny scraps of Chrissy Cunningham’s affection he could snatch whenever she had the time.

No, that wasn’t fair.

There was something deeper there, the way she felt about him; he was more than just her shoulder to cry on, more than stress relief or escapism or slumming it or whatever the fuck anyone else would say if they knew.

Because in between the heady slide of lips and teeth and tongue, in between the hours spent with his fingers or his mouth or his cock between her thighs, after sunset but before dawn, there were these moments. These fragments of her he’d cling onto, when she told him secrets and listened to him ramble on about Scott Ian or Lord of the Rings or a thousand other things that were probably boring her to tears – except she never looked bored, not once.

(Sort of how he looked when she talked aboutThe Breakfast Club or that brother and sister that won the silver at the Winter Olympics for the first time in, like, 20 years Eddie, it was amazing. Chrissy was obsessed with figure skating, and suddenly Eddie was obsessed with how obsessed Chrissy was with probably the most ridiculous sport he’d ever seen – not that he’d seen all that many sports, but still.)

So, yeah, she’s never called him baby at 9pm on her parents’ phone, but he knows she likes Pop-Tarts raw instead of toasted (what the fuck), and he knows how she chews the end of her ponytail when she’s deep in thought, and he knows her favourite subject is actually Wood Shop, of all things, because she gets to feel useful, gets to make things.

Ok, so maybe all of that is surface-level shit; Carver probably knows all of that too.

But Eddie also knows where to put his tongue to make her come so hard she cries; make her say his name over and over and over as she turns boneless and glowing in his arms – and that’s something Jason’s never had, even if he’s had all of her “I love you”s.

In fact, what Eddie has is almost better, isn’t it?Almost.

In any case, it’s time to head back inside – he can hear Jeff’s mock-announcer voice over the speaker system: Eddie Munson to the stage please, Eddie Munson – so he crushes the butt under the heel of his Docs and tramps up the stairs past the back room where all their shit is lying on the ground next to a bunch of tapped-out kegs, and that’s what he fucking feels like, actually. Tapped out.

But duty calls; he can’t let down the five drunks, even if he’s never felt less like whipping out a face-melting solo on Julia.

Except when he slinks out onto the tiny, sticky stage, it’s not five drunks in the audience – there is a sixth person in the, well, he can’t call it a crowd, but in the room, and she’s never looked more out of place perched on a bar stool next to the Hideout’s usuals, sipping daintily from the straw in her bubbly highball glass.

Her hair is just this side of strawberry blonde. She’s wearing a cropped pink sweater and a pair of acid-washed jeans and her usual pristine white Reeboks – the undersides of which are almost certainly now coated with god-knows-what from the bar’s sticky floorboards. She looks up at him from under mascaraed lashes and purple eyeshadow, and she winks.

Chrissy Cunningham is in the building.

* *

He can barely remember the rest of their set. It’s like his body is possessed – like he’s mainlining electricity as his fingers fly over the fretboard, the blood red pick almost splitting with the force as he strums out the chords.

He does remember right after they finish; he’s dripping in sweat, and he looks up and Chrissy’s clapping and cheering, beaming up at him like he’s Christmas morning, like he’s birthday cake and the first day of summer and a perfectly rolled joint all at once.

At least, that’s what it feels like. But maybe she’s just smiling because she’s a smiley sort of girl; maybe she’s just nice, maybe she cares about him just enough not to tear his heart to shreds, and instead she’ll gently fray them with all her niceness until they’re paper thin and useless anyway. (Maybe tearing would have been better. Quicker.)

He lifts Julia over his head and sets her gently on the stand, meets Chrissy’s eye and nods his head toward the back room so she’ll know to meet him there.

When she almost skips through the door five minutes later, she’s holding a beer, which she hands to him as he grabs his spare T-shirt from his moth-eaten backpack.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” she half-grins as he takes the cold bottle from her dainty fingers, and her nails have little glittery stars glued to them, because of course they do.

Careful to keep his expression neutral, Eddie just nods, takes a swig, sets the bottle down on the floor as he swaps his sweaty Iron Maiden tour shirt for the homemade one with his demon witch illustration. He had to go all the way to Fort Wayne to get it screen printed, and the store had almost kicked him out when they’d seen the design, looking up at him with burgeoning horror.

“What are you doing here, Chrissy?” he says (but what he means is, “I can’t keep doing this,” only he doesn’t trust himself to say that, because he’d regret it a second after it leaves his lips – no matter how true it is).

Chrissy licks her lips as she watches him change, and there’s an odd expression on her face now – the little wrinkle between her brows is back, like she can’t quite figure something out.

“Are you-” she says, hesitant.

“Am I what?” he replies, maybe a little sharper than he means, but fuck, he’s in his head now; he can’t stop thinking about her and her stupid boyfriend, the man she’s probably going to marry 18 months from now.

Eddie will spend the next hour or so wrapped in her body, chopping his stupid heart up into tiny little pieces for her to eat at her leisure, and then tomorrow she’ll go and meet Carver for Saturday breakfast and he'll feed her pancakes and kiss her in the sunshine, right in front of everyone, and all the town’s old ladies will smile and coo their approval. Ah, young love, now that takes me back!, they will surely say.

(And it’s not like Eddie’s ever needed the approval of the gossipy, God-fearing townsfolk of Hawkins, Indiana, but maybe, for once, it’d be nice to have it.)

Chrissy’s face crumples a little in the silence.

“Are you mad I’m here?” she almost whispers.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Why would I be mad about that?”

“Was it too much, before? I’m sorry, I’m so embarrassing, I-" She looks like she’s going to cry. “I shouldn’t have come.”

He turns to look at her properly, and all his resolve splinters. She's really broken up; biting her lip, eyes downcast, like she’s hurt him on purpose or something.

He can’t help it; he closes the distance between them, folds her up in his arms – god, he probably reeks even with the new shirt – and ducks his head so he can rest his cheek against hers.

“I’m not angry, Chrissy, really – I… Why did you come?” he says softly.

She sniffles a little. “I-I wanted to see you, I couldn’t wait.”

“Couldn’t wait for what?” he says, pressing a tiny kiss to the corner of her eye, just brushing his lips there, next to the butterfly wing beat of her eyelashes. He’s cupping the back of her lovely head, and it fits against his palm like it was always meant to rest there.

“I had to tell you,” she says, and there’s a desperate sincerity in her voice.

Oh fuck.

She’s not… She couldn’t be. They’d been careful; God knows Wayne had given him enough lectures about gettin’ a girl in trouble over the years – had left a pack of Trojans discreetly in Eddie’s bedside drawer the day he turned 16.

Mentally, he’s already calculating how much gas he’ll need for the drive to Indianapolis, to the clinic with the white doors where he’d taken Shayna, their neighbour on the side that wasn’t the Mayfields', last summer (not like that; she couldn’t tell her dad, and she didn’t have any other friends with a car).

“Being real cryptic tonight, Cunningham,” he says quietly, heart in his absolute throat.

Except… Chrissy had looked so happy before now; seemed so excited to tell him. His mind races. Maybe they can work it out? He’ll get a job at the plant with Wayne, play more gigs –paying gigs – on the weekends, save up enough to trade the van for something safer, something with an actual back seat where they can clip in a baby carrier. She can still go to college. If the next few words out of her mouth are what he thinks they’ll be-

They aren’t.

“I broke up with Jason,” says Chrissy, and there’s a quiver in her voice, but it doesn’t break.

Oh shit.

It takes a second to sink in, but then Eddie feels like a fucking firework. He can’t believe it. He must have heard her wrong. He exhales shakily over her skin, presses a kiss underneath her ear.

“Really?” he whispers, and his lovesick heart is tramping a drumline inside his ribcage, like it’s going to burst out of his chest and climb inside hers instead.

“Really,” she whispers back, and she tilts her chin to kiss him properly – to press her lips against his, to slide her tongue between and make him even more crazy for her than he already is.

A blissful moment, then he pulls back, rests their foreheads together. “What does that mean?”

“Huh?” says Chrissy, eyes still glassy. She’s staring at his mouth.

Eddie sighs again, rubs a thumb over her kiss-swollen lips.

“Are you going to run away to Chicago now, like we talked about? College girl in the big city… ”

She smiles, kisses his fingertip, and her next words make all his dreams come true.

“Only if you’ll come with me.”

#my fic #hellcheer fic #eddissy #hellcheer

21 notes · View notes

elenajohansenreads · 1 year

Text

Books I Read in 2023

#10 - Beyond This Dark House, by Guy Gavriel Kay

Rating: 4/5 stars

I've always struggled to write reviews of poetry collections, much the same way I do about short story volumes. Inevitably, I like some poems/stories and don't like others, and sometimes the difference between quality and likeability from best to worst (or favorite to least favorite) is so vast that rating the work as a whole seems meaningless.

When I was a teenager, my mother was going through some of her old notebooks and found one where she had copied out her favorite poems from a wide variety of poets, back in college. Before that I knew my mom was a voracious reader (I got that from her) but I hadn't known she had ever been interested in poetry, so that's when I got into it, too. I read it, I wrote it (usually poorly), I bought a blank book from a bookstore and copied out my own favorites, and ended up taking a few college courses on it despite my science-based major.

I tell this story to say, I'm not sure if I still had that book that any of these poems would get copied. (I don't have it, and I think it was full anyway.) But I did enjoy many of them, and as a collection divided into parts with clear thematic links, this might be the most successful grouping of poetry I've had the pleasure of reading.

Some of the themes didn't speak to me: there's a vibrant sense of place, as many of the poems noted the location where they were written, and while I have traveled a fair bit in my life, it's not a strong drive I have. (I generally travel to visit people, and incidentally get to a be a tourist where they live.) There's also a great deal about broken passion and what sound like long-distance relationships, which might lead me to assume some things about Kay's life that I haven't made and wouldn't make any attempt to verify; the tone of many poems is clearly autobiographical and I'll leave it at that, but little of it reflects anything in my life.

But what I did find here was something I'd been missing from modern free-verse poetry: a sense of the poet caring how the words sounded together, rather than just spilling feelings onto a page without meter or form to contain them. I didn't read any of these out loud, but I spoke them in my head, because that's how I've always read poetry, and they generally sounded good, while still having the clarity and sincerity of the feelings-spilling poets. A handful of poems were less clear, more deliberately obscure in their meanings, and those tended to be the ones I liked less, but even those didn't feel like I'd peeked into some angsty teen's diary (like my own, before anyone thinks I'm throwing stones, I wrote very bad poetry in those years.)

What I also found was inspiration. In the last week, I've roughed out two poems about aspects of myself in a similar style to Kay's, which are the first two poems I've written in probably fifteen years. I thought about my poetry professor from college and wondered if she'd be pleased or horrified to find out I've written romance novels in the years since her classes. I dredged up memories I hadn't visited in quite some time to see how I feel about them as an adult looking back. I thought a lot about what an autobiography in poetry form would say about me, and how that might differ from the person I want to be going forward. And I still want to write more poetry about that, though as I continue I hope to develop my own style again, possibly even ditching free-verse for structured forms as I revise. I did use to love the challenge of fitting meaning into those forms with careful word choice, it was like a puzzle I created for myself, and I love puzzles.

I can't give this work five stars because I don't love it the way that rating implies, but any poetry that served me as both entertainment and an invitation to reflect on myself is good poetry.

#booklr #book review #poetry #guy gavriel kay #favorite authors #beyond this dark house

5 notes · View notes

demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 11 months

Text

More angsty S1 YasMoon because they're so!!! THEY'RE SO!!! They're so important to me, you don't understand. I've made them both such rich inner worlds that only exist in my mind but by GOD if I'm not Unwell about the complex, nuanced, and BRUTALLY flawed versions of them that live in my head rent-free ;_____;

Like I am gripped by how many things it re-contextualizes if Yas and Moon were hooking up in Season 1. Like that's why Moon so doggedly remained Yasmine's faithful, right-hand Evil Bitch, despite being a very good-natured person normally. That's why these girls were almost grinding in that one concert video Sam showed Amanda. And that's why their beach party confrontation had enough tension to fill an olympic-sized swimming pool. It was a damn breakup akajndslfkjl

Anyways, I'm hoping I can write some full-length one-shots that delve into this more, but I'm just imagining that during S1 and before, Moon was just...an absolutely hopeless pining mess. Like she did everything for Yasmine and went along with whatever she said in hopes that Yas would eventually love her the same...or at least love her openly. She knew Yas could be sweet and giving in private, but she wanted more than anything to be shown off and flaunted like something to be proud of (part of why she eventually ditched Yas for Hawk! Although he went way too far in the other direction to the point of like. Treating her more like a coolness prize than a person ^^;). Yasmine only ever treated her softly and gently when no one else was looking, and it killed Moon. She hated always feeling like a side piece and an afterthought, and still only ever getting dismissively called "a friend." Or sometimes just a lackey, even if Yasmine wouldn't say it directly. I think finally standing up to Yasmine was just as much about wanting better for herself as well as all the people Yasmine bullied.

Like the way she seems guilty about cutting Sam off and horrified to see Kyler mocking her in front of the entire cafeteria implies she's not really comfortable with all the awful stuff Yas does. And like sure, she could stick with Yasmine out of platonic loyalty or to have a popularity safety net, BUT. Being a Yasmine simp would explain just how much she's willing to tolerate before she kicks Yas to the curb XD And hey, she's canonically got a thing for mean, aggressive people, does she not???

Anyways tl;dr poor Season 1 Moon </3 Girl was in love with Yasmine and I WILL die on that hill. Would explain why she was super high and out of it for a lot of S1, too. Girl was coping (er...not healthily) with her gf a) not admitting she was her gf and b) not cherishing her like she secretly wanted </3 Yasmine fr pushes her lesbianism so far down it may as well collide with the earth's core at this point.

In my heart she accepts it and owns it at some point in the distant future, bless iashluybkh

Big, big fan of that locket on the bottom right, btw. Headcanon Yas gifted it to Moon during S1, but was like "if you ever wear this, you CANNOT tell people I gave it to you lest they think we're... g a y" ;______; Like that's not even the first conclusion people would probably come to anyways, but poor Yas is so paranoid about people suspecting she isn't straight that she feels like she has to shut down anything that could possibly point to that D: Also dying on my hill that she has a more difficult relationship with her parents than she lets on and they're either subtly or openly homophobic, which is why she represses her sexuality so adamantly

As always, pic credits available upon request!

#yasmoon #yasmine x moon #moon x yasmine #aesthetic #moodboard #yasmine cobra kai #moon cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai season 1

4 notes · View notes

mercurialkitty · 1 year

Text

Fanfic Writer 20 Questions!

I was tagged by @tuometarr thank you so much 🥰

1. How many works do you have on ao3

only 13

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

94,347

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Only spn but one of these days I'm going to write bbc sherlock

To not make this too long let’s add a read more

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I have so few, I'm just gonna give the top 3 - Road Trip for the Holidays, Talks with Dads - Dean and Cereal, A visit to The Empty

5. Do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Yep. I don't get a lot, so it's pretty easy, and I want to show that I really appreciate people taking time to read and interact.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't think any of them really end angsty, but Game Night is the closest.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Like @tuometarr said, I would if I had ideas

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No. I mean so few people look...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't think I do it well, but confession: I actually wrote one het ship smut fic. I don't know if it will ever see the light of day. I might put it on a Psued. It's a rare SPN pair and I felt guilty writing it instead of destiel! I would like to write smut, but honestly I get so embarrased! Flirting and implied future or past smut is easier.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, I would love it

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I'd be open to a co-writer (especially for smut).

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Destiel is my favorite, but Midam is close and just as amazing and cosmic. Plus TBH, I think Michael and Adam have the healthiest relationship on the show. SPN pushed Johnlock down my list, but I still have fond thoughts and would want to write it someday.

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

LOL. All of them! Fortunately I don't put anything out on AO3 that isn't going to come to a relationship resolution/stopping point, even if there are plot arcs unresolved. But I have about 3 WIPs in Scrivener.

15. What are your writing strengths?

IDEK maybe fluffy feelz

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Planning and plotting

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

Personally I don't have language skills, so I don't know.

18. What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

SPN

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I have two fic that don't embarrass me to look at Talks with Dads - Dean and Cereal and The Ministry of Brewing. I'm content with those two in a way I'm not with my others.

20. Who do you tag?

I don't really tag folks on fic. Maybe just whoever it's for on an exchange, or if someone inspired it. On this game I am just going to tag a couple people. Like @tuometarr said,

If you are a writer and just want to do this, feel free to consider this your tag! Also no pressure for anyone to do this!!

@all-or-nothing-baby @thepainofdreams

#Fanfic Writer 20 Questions #tag game #don't bother waiting for a tag though #join in if you write fic #it's cool - i want you to!#fan fiction

5 notes · View notes

imaginarybird · 6 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @m-b-w and answered under the cut!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

16 at current count. I've written way more fic in my lifetime, but I've only had this account for a few years and for a handful of those I've been in an off and on creative slump.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

347,414

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment, pretty much exclusively 9-1-1, but my previously published fics were for Legally Blonde (the musical) and Girl Meets World. And I have some drafted wips for things like Leverage and Criminal Minds that I'll probably revisit someday if the inspiration strikes.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Looking for my Heart (9-1-1; Buddie)

All the Courage You Have Left (9-1-1; Buddie)

Because Reasons (Legally Blonde; Elle/Emmett)

A Missing Voice (Girl Meets World; Rucas)

The One to Survive (9-1-1; no pairing)

5. Do you respond to comments?

This is a habit I'm trying to build--so up until recently no, but I am getting more consistent about it.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Right now it's probably The One to Survive, since that one very much leaves things hanging to hopefully be continued at a later date. It's a a 9-1-1 AU that takes place right as Maddie and Chimney are headed back to LA after Maddie completes her treatment and features character death and some tough decisions.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Mm...probably Because Reasons. It's a Legally Blonde AU that has Elle and Emmett as rival teachers and is basically a condensed rom-com. Since I typically write things that are more on the angsty side, my endings are often hopeful but not necessarily happy, but this one is definitely a classic roll credits moment.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not as of yet, thankfully.

9. Do you write smut?

As a completely inexperienced and uninterested asexual, I am more of a fade-to-black, rejoin the characters in the afterglow kind of author.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have not, but if the inspiration was right I definitely would.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

At one point someone tried to post one of my Girl Meets World fics on Wattpad, a site that I never plan on using. But it got taken down pretty quickly.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated before?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oof. Idk. I honestly don't know that I have an all-time OTP that I read/write/come back to over and over no matter what. There are lots of pairings that speak to me, but my focus shifts frequently.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Twists and Turns. This was a massive Girl Meets World AU I tried to undertake. I'm not even sure that I want to finish it so much as I'm disappointed with myself that I deleted it in a fit of depression/frustration and never got to the big secret reveal I was going for, but I'm fairly certain I'll never go back to it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Asking me to compliment myself is very mean but I'm usually pretty happy with my depictions of darker feelings/trauma.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action and endings. And the previously mentioned smut.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I tend to avoid it since I'm not fluent in anything except for English. I'll usually just imply it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys probably. Wanting to continue stories with them is how I discovered fandom and I think I dove in pretty quickly after that.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Of what I have published and finished write now I'm most proud of All the Courage You Have Left (linked above). It's a 9-1-1 lawsuit era fic that takes a turn and an approach to Buck's history that I hadn't seen before, and I really loved exploring how that changed things as I was writing it.

-----

I'm honestly not sure of any folks that I follow/that follow me that are writers who would want to engage in a survey like this so I'm not tagging anyone specifically but instead, if you see this and you want to share feel free to say I tagged you!

#tagging games #ask the author #about me

1 note · View note

xmalfoyweasleyx · 3 years

Text

No future with a boy like this - F.W

Summary: Fred disappoints you more than once, giving you no other choice, you had to let him go.

Warnings: ANGSTY, cursing, implied sex very briefly, FLUFF AT THE END

A/N: my firsts time writing angst and I really don’t know if i was overdramatic or not enough dramatic lol please give feedback

April- 1996 - Hogwarts

Y/n was waiting on the tribune next to the quidditch field. It was already getting darker now. An orange glow spreading over the field. The sun was going down already. She was sitting there for two hours now.

She promised herself she would stop waiting after an hour but here she was, still hoping he would show up.

It was her birthday, it was her fucking birthday. And this wasn't the first time. It started with little dates, he forgot them sometimes but y/n didn't mind, he made it up every time.

He hurt her by forgetting those things all the time. But it was Fred Weasley after all. You knew this was coming when he became your boyfriend. You even got used to it. He was always busy. That's just how Fred is.

And here she was again. Trying to not let the tears of disappointment fall down on her cheeks. She felt miserable and decided to finally call it a night, going back to her dorm. She was exhausted.

Walking down the corridors, she saw Fred. He was just sitting there, laughing with George. That's when it was clear, he wasn't even late, he just forgot.

He saw her and smiled, walking her way, but she turned on her heals immediately. "Y/n!" he screamed confused. He followed her and his long legs made it easy to catch up.

She didn't answer, finding it much harder to hold back her tears now. "Y/n? Hey? What's wrong?" he asked.

Y/n stopped abruptly. "You really don't know?" she hissed.

A confused look formed on his face. "What do you mean"? he stammered. A tear fell down her cheek and his face was full of guilt now, without even knowing what he did.

"You forgot", you snapped, "again!"

He was thinking for one minute. It really took him one minute. What was wrong with that boy?!

Suddenly a wave of realization hit him. "Fuck." he squealed.

Y/n didn't need this shit right now, and ran away before he could say something. Making him run after her. "NO y/n wait! I'm so sorry, I won't forget next time, I promise, I'm so sorry" he begged while grabbing her arm, pulling her closer to him.

"You say that every time Fred" she sighed, another tear fell down.

It broke Fred's heart. It really did. He didn't mean to forget this things, he didn't want to hurt you. His mind was just so full all the time. So many things were going on in those brains of his.

"I mean it, I'm sorry, I love you y/n" he assured.

And she fell for it, like she always did. It happened every time. Fred said things that made her melt, and she forgave him. It was nothing new. Because how could she not? The sweet boy didn't mean to hurt her, she knew that, everyone knew that.

But still, her friends warned her. There was no future with a boy like this. It couldn't stay like this. So she swore to herself this was the last time. She made that clear to Fred too.

Because what if he's the love of her life? Her future? This was her last year after all, y/n’s future was right in front of her. What if Fred was her future? You both couldn't give that up.

May- 1996 - Hogwarts

Everything was alright.

They were okay.

And Fred hasn’t been late for a whole month, sounds like nothing special but to him and her it was.

This weekend y/n was going home, and not just home, but with Fred.

After a year it was time for him to meet her parents. Fred claimed he was the perfect son in law, so he didn’t hesitate to agree. Y/n was nervous and excited at the same time.

Ready in her dorm, with a portkey, she had her favourite sundress on. She was waiting for Fred but he didn’t show up. Okay it was only 15 minutes now, but with their little history it made her nervous. She was absolutely sure Fred wouldn’t forget this. He can’t forget this.

20 minutes later she was still waiting.

No. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.

And then, she found a note under her potionsbook. After reading only one word, she was already furious, a growing heat filling her cheeks.

Dear y/n, love

I remembered. I swear. But I just won’t make it. I’m not feeling okay and I think I might have a fever or something. I don’t want to make you or your parents sick, so I’m staying in my dorm.

I love you, kisses Fred x

She didn’t really know what to think. She was so disappointed, again.

But she could’t blame her boyfriend for feeling sick. Although she had her doubts, what if this wasn’t true, maybe he lied because he did forget it?

No, no, she had to trust him. Fred wouldn’t lie to her. So she grabbed the portkey and went to visit her parents.

Alone.

When she traveled back to Hogwarts it was late already, past midnight. Y/n hoped Umbridge wouldn’t catch her.

The corridors were empty, completely silent. This was not unusual. Most of the students were already asleep this late on a Sunday.

Unexpectedly, she heard gigles and laughs coming from around the corner. Did it come from the library? It couldn’t be. Not at almost 1 am.

She went closer to listen. Y/n placed her ear on the door. Was it... Was it...? No. No.

Did she hear Fred’s voice?

She really hoped she was just imagining this. Maybe she should trust Fred more.

But just checking won’t hurt right?

So she tried to open the door. It was locked.

“Alohamora” she whispered.

What she saw broke her heart into a million pieces.

Angelina sat on a table, with Fred extremely close to her, giggling. George and Lee were there too.

She couldn’t believe her own eyes. Looking silently in Fred’s shocked ones.

“Fuck” he sighed. “Y/n-“ he tried.

But she cut him off before he could say anything. “No, I don’t wanna hear another silly explanation from you, it’s enough, I don’t want to see you ever again” she screamed with tears in her eyes, making her vision blurry.

Y/n ran away, faster than ever so Fred couldn’t catch up this time.

“Stop!! Stop!” she heard him scream behind her.

She ran and ran, not even knowing were to.

“Let me explain” another scream followed.

That’s when she ended up in a corridor she didn’t know. A dead end. Ofcourse.

She gave up and stopped. Fred ended in front of her, breathing loudly, trying to catch his breath.

“Baby I-“ he tried

“Don’t call me baby, this is over” y/n cut him off.

Fred was speachless, for the first time in history. He didn’t realise this truly happened. He knew what he did wasn’t okay, but he never expected her to actually broke up with him. It just didn’t occur in his mind this was a possibility.

“But.. but...” he stuttered. “I swear, I can explain, what you’ve just seen, it wasn’t what you think it is. I’ve told you about the shoppe George and I want to open, right? It’s actually going to happen. We’re leaving hogwarts. That’s what we were doing, we were planning things. Tomorrow we’re going to blow up Umbridge, no not literally blow up, but with lots of firework! And then we’re going to open the shoppe together. It’s my dream y/n!” he rambled excited.

Y/n sighed. Understanding why he did this, but it didn’t change a thing.

“That actually makes things worse Fred. I’m happy your dream will come true. But you’re leaving and I’m finishing my year. When are you going to have time for me if you run a shop? You didn’t even have time for me now.” she cried.

Both of them were crying now. Knowing the break up was really going to happen. Fred wanted to keep fighting. But he knew she might be right.

A little sob left his mouth, something he never did before. She was right. He truly loved her but he couldn’t give her the happy future she deserved. He wasn’t right for her, he didn’t treat her the way she should’ve been treated. And the idea broke him. And that’s when she walked away.

They didn’t see each other again afterwards.

The next day, y/n laid in her bed when she heard fireworks, knowing what happened. She couldn’t go outside and watch...

Happy screams and laughs filled the castle. And that’s when she realised Fred and George were gone now. It was reality now. They won’t come back. Although a little part of her hoped they would stay. A little part of her thought Fred would come to her, begging her to stay with him. But she guessed he just didn’t love her enough.

After all the times Fred broke her heart, she was kind off used to it. But those heartbreaks couldn’t ever overcome this one.

August - 1996 - Diagon Alley

The summer was almost over, y/n graduated two months ago. The heartbreak still hurted but she was better now. She still didn’t know what to do now that she’s graduated.

Hermione decided you two had to go shopping. “It’ll make you happier” she stated like it was an actual fact. Y/n couldn’t say no of course.

Y/n’s breath hitched. A big clone of Fred’s face right in front of her (or George). This had to be their joke shoppe. God, it was more impressive than she expected. Guess you should never underestimate the twins.

“Let’s go inside y/n!” Hermione announced excited, grabbing her arm trying to puch her inside.

“Oh no no no no no, I don’t think that’s a great idea” she hesitated.

“Don’t worry, it’s so busy, Fred won’t see you” she promised her. Y/n sighed. She really didn’t want to go inside. She’d love to see the shoppe, but seeing Fred...

Whatever, it was true. It was so busy so Fred won’t ever notice her.

They entered, y/n was surprised, it was wonderful. Fred and George must have worked so hard to get to this point. God, she loved the place.

It brought back memories. All those joke products, most of them were used on her, she remembered. Fred thought it was hilarious to prank her literally all the time, being proud because it was something he invented himself. She couldn’t be mad about it, it made him so happy.

The place even smelled like him.

Y/n took a deep breath trying to gather all of the smell, in hope it would stay in her nose, so she could remember it back home.

She closed her eyes and imagined how it could be, if they didn’t broke up. How she would probably come here everyday to say hi, how she would watch Fred all day doing his job.

And then... she saw him. In his uniform, he stood there proudly on the stairs above her. Smiling happily, seeing all those laughing people because if his work.

He was happy. Fred missed y/n but he was happy. He thought a lot of all the things he did wrong. Although he didn’t really have time to worry.

Y/n sighed, it’s been months. Her heart was glowing inside her chest. She didn’t even feel sad any more. This was what her boyfriend always dreamt of. Her ex-boyfriend.

She turned around deciding it was not smart to look at the beautiful boy, the boy who still made her knees go weak.

Fred’s smell was more vibrant than before now. Almost like he was right in front of me.

Ow, love potions, of course.

Of course she still smelled Fred in it.

“I smell honey, flowers and vanilla soap” she heard a familiar voice whispering in her ear, almost making her jump.

“F-fred, hey” she stuttered, in shock by the fact he’s standing right in front of her.

“You look great, changed your hair” he smiled. It was true, y/n cut her hair a little shorter and decided to give it a lighter colour for the summer. The typical breakup haircut.

“Fred do you want to... talk... please?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t a great idea. She wanted to just run away after she realized what she said.

“We could go upstairs, talk in my appartment”

October- 1996 - Diagon Alley

“Come on darling, George opened up already!” Fred screamed running through his kitchen while jumping, trying to get his pants on. He grabbed an apple as breakfast.

Y/n ran to the kitchen too. “I thought you changed the being late thing” y/n joked, yes they joked about it now.

“You were the one holding me up this time” he smiled adding a wink. “You just can’t resist me in the bedroom” y/n answered daring.

She grabbed him by his collar, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I have no choice with the sexiest girlfriend in the word” Fred grinned, pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

“Baby, you’re wearing your uniform backwards” he laughed.

Y/n worked at the shoppe now too.

When she asked Fred to talk, they actually talked for hours. They talked about what went wrong in their relationship, about what they had been doing in those months they broke up, talked about how they still had feelings,...

And after two hours they made up. Both being happier than ever, deciding they learned from their break up.

Fred asked her to come live in his apartment and work in their shop too. Y/n didn’t hesitate for a moment. She designed their boxes or packages and talked to costumers. But most of all she distracted Fred by rolling her uniforme skirt up and bowing down to ‘grab’ something. Sometimes he took her back to the appartment because he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Y/n now knew, the breakup was necessary. You both learned. And now you’re happier than ever.

Because after all, Fred was your future.

***

#fred smut #fred angst #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #george weasley smut #george x reader #george weasley #weasley #harry potter smut #harry potter

514 notes · View notes

consul-valerius · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 7: Somnophilia

A/N: Asra stans I truly do not know how you guys do this, but this got way more angsty than it did kinky 😩 however, I actually really love this piece and I learned a lot about Donna post-revival by writing it 💖 For those who don't know, somno is when partners engage in some sort of sexual activity while the other is sleeping/unconscious. Again, consent is pre-established and enthusiastically given within the fic itself, but as always please head content warnings!

Pairing: Asra x Donna

Rating: 18+ 🍋-- this means minors do not interact

W/C: 2881

Summary: Frustrated with their own limitations, Donna offers Asra a way for them to rekindle old flames in a way that won't hurt them.

Fill contains: References/implied death mention, discussions/allusions to chronic pain, oral sex (vaginal), masturbation, body worship, Sadsra™

Donna kept Asra’s gaze as they finished the rest of their tea. He was the one to break eye contact first, as always, his eyes quickly darting away from them. It was always like that; if he stared too long, if they met his stare accidentally, he couldn’t hold it. At first, this was distressing. “Is there something wrong with me?” was always the first question Donna would wonder, too afraid to ask, unable to find the words. But now, nearly a year later, they already knew the answer.

Yes. Yes, something was terribly wrong. But life moves on either way.

It was Donna’s idea—of course, it had been. Asra, the one who placed a row of pillows between them as they slept; the one who always kept a hand to their waist or shoulder as if to always shield them; the one who left just as easily, as if fleeing from something the moment an item was low on the shop—Asra would have never suggested this. But Donna wasn’t stupid—they were not stupid. They caught him staring often. They caught his fingers inching closer towards their own, or their arm, or their thigh. They caught the whispered whines in the dead of night. He was always so sure that Donna was asleep, so sure that they couldn’t feel anything with that wall of pillows between them.

“What if I’m sleeping?”

Asra hadn’t understood, initially. To be fair, the conversation had nothing to do with sex or longing or yearning.

“What? Are you worried about a dream again—”

“What if you t-touched me while I was sleeping? It w-wouldn’t hurt me then.”

Donna was so sure that he would have pounced on them there, would have sealed their lips together and caressed them and hold them right there. They had read plenty of books already about the subject, felt their own fire stirring between their legs at the thought. Their own hands felt like a stranger’s, felt so unsure, and yet it wasn’t enough. Part of them, some buried part, was aware that Asra knew every part of them, every little thing that could drive them wild. But to act on that, to remember, that would be…

“That’s too dangerous,” Asra was speaking quickly, which was unusual for him. The mage normally had an easy flow to his words—except when discussing Donna’s health, their missing memories, the “before time.” “If you woke up—”

“W-We have sleeping spells; teas and p-potions that can... they can—” Donna couldn't keep the frantic disappointment from their voice.

“It’s too risky, Donatello—"

“Please.”

Even that felt familiar, even caused a prick of pain to well behind their eyes. Please. Please don’t worry about me. Please just trust me. Please keep going. Please don’t stop. Please, please, please. How many more times would they break him with just a single word? When was the first time? What would be the last?

Donna placed their teacup down, swallowing down the previous day’s events with it. It had worked. Of course, it had worked. Already they felt so guilty, already felt an apology on their lips.

“How do you feel?”

So attentive. He was always so attentive. Their cheeks were flushed already, heart racing at the idea of what would happen to them. Just like with everything, they would have no memories of what was to come, just phantom feelings, impressions. But at least he would be able to tell them what happened, what he did, how they responded.

“Good. F-fine. Just a little… sleepy. That’s the p-point though, huh?”

At least this, what they were creating now, wouldn’t hurt.

“Let’s get ready for bed then.”

It would have sounded a bit more commanding, a bit firmer, had Asra been able to look at them while he said it. They wondered, as they stood to their feet, had there ever been a time he was properly strict with them, commanded them because they wanted him too—needed him to. They had read—what else could they do?— novels about such relationships, domineering figures paired with gleeful, submissive partners. It all interested them, like an old friend whose name was right there on their tongue, and they tried to apply it to Asra, tried to picture him in those roles.

But it felt wrong, like a shirt too tight or too long; it hadn’t been him, but he was all they had now. He was the only shirt they could wear.

And he was comfortable, they had to say that. He brushed through their hair as they sat, legs crossed, on the bed. They hummed and sighed as he did, shivering at the sensation of the comb’s teeth scraping against their scalp. This was typically as much as he would touch them now; they were much better at caring for themself than they were months ago. There had been moments when they were bathing together that Donna would suddenly double over, shouting, crying out in pain. A graze of the hands that was just a bit too familiar, a sensation of their arms rubbing against each other, a comment or a movement that was just too much, too real that would shock their entire body, would turn it against themself.

This was all they had now, this and clinging to each other’s arms in the marketplace, both afraid but for different reasons. It was awful, this harsh contradiction, this need for both closeness and repulsion of it. Asleep, if they could just be asleep, if they could just let it all out in a way that was safe, that wouldn’t hurt them—maybe then Asra would look at them as his friend, as a person, as something that won’t shatter at the nearest gust of wind. That they wouldn’t blow away like grains of sand on a beach.

“Are you sure about this…?”

“Only… if you are,” Donna whispered, though it pained them to. They wanted to be more selfish, wanted to just think of what they wanted. But this was already selfish enough, even asking this of him. “W-we can just sleep if you w-want—”

“If you wake up at all,” Asra interrupted, accidentally, voice soft and frail and desperate. “I’ll stop immediately. I’ll… we won’t keep going. If you think you’re waking up, you should… should—”

“I’ll grab your hand. I’ll keep my eyes closed. If you w-want… Only if you want to… You don’t have t-to—”

“I do,” Asra admitted, like a sin, against the back of their neck. Donna had to shut their eyes, inhaling. Even that, that small sensation of whispered words to their neck, was both driving them wild and bringing on a headache. “I really do… I just—”

“It w-won’t hurt… Not if it’s you.”

That wasn’t true; they both knew this. It would hurt because it was Asra. But not like this. Not if they could bend the rules, just a little, just for some sort of release.

“How do you feel?” His voice was near breaking now, wet sounding. Donna reclined back to him, eyelids drifting shut.

How selfish I am, Donna realized.

“I’m really… sleepy…”

“Lay down on the pillows. Here, just like that.”

Those pillows that normally separated them were now stacked at the head of the bed, laid out to help present and cradle Donna all the same. They wondered if that’s how the bed was before, before all of this. They could lay side by side, cushioned by all the fluff, sleeping nose to nose, giggling, and whispering, and revealing all night long.

Donna laid back, body already feeling so languid and heavy. It all felt nice; they felt supported. Asra was still so far from them, sitting at the foot of the bed, looking very small, almost like a child. He still couldn’t look at them properly, his eyes darting from the door to the headboard to their legs.

“Asra…?” Donna felt like they were submerged underwater. Without thinking, they were reaching their hand out, luring him in. “It’s okay. Y-You… You’re allowed to. I promise. Touch me, please. Please, it’s okay, I promise...”

Before their hand could fall limp, Asra caught it with his own, entwining their fingers together. They were asleep all at once; Asra blinked, surprised.

Slowly, painfully slow, he crawled to their side, his eyes fixed on their face. How many times had it been? Staring down at their sleeping face, soaking up every detail of them. The small mole below their eye; the deep bags under their eyes, so much more exaggerated now; the laugh lines at the corners of their mouth; the thick brows that they used to tend to weekly; those lips, gods those lips, that always met his skin at any chance they got. Sitting and reading and suddenly a kiss to his hand, a kiss to his temple, a chaste kiss to his lips, just because they could, because he wanted them to and didn’t need to ask.

Trembling, he ran his thumb over their bottom lip, ready to flee at the slightest moment. But they did not stir, only exhaled, opening their mouth more for him. Their eyes were shut, serenely; their chest rose and fell steadily. What a beautiful sight that was, seeing them breathe, sleep, dream. Were they thinking of him still, dreaming and imagining every sensation? Gods, he couldn’t stop trembling. He felt like he could fall apart at any moment. But just the touch to their lips was enough to propel him forward, suddenly unable to stop himself any longer.

He had been stopping himself for months now, stopping himself from taking them in his arms, from kissing their knuckles, from kissing them right there on their neck, on the spot that made them squeal in delight. He had to stop himself from weeping all day long, from going wild and tearing up the shop they had made together, this home that was theirs, not just his. How they walked like a stranger, like a ghost, in their own home. Already, he could feel tears brimming his lashes.

But no. No, this was not the time for that. This was a time for love, for adoration, and for joy.

Gods, he would tell them all about it. He would write it for them too if they wanted. He brought his lips to their cheek first, kissing them right on the mole below their eye. They barely stirred, only snoring lightly. It was at first disheartening, not even getting a smile or giggle, but it was comforting, nevertheless. They would not wake. They would not ache. Slowly, tenderly, he laid down next to them, taking them up into his arms as he kissed along their face and neck. They moved with him, compliant.

You’re allowed to do this.

Letting out a shuddery breath, he had to stop himself from touching himself so soon. No, he would savor this, savor every moment they had like this. The weight that it could all go away in a blink weighed him down, but he pushed through his frantic thoughts. He ran his hands down their shoulder, squeezing their arm lightly, feeling for the muscles he knew was still there. His hand sank then to their waist, his fingers running along the curve of their stomach. Normally that would have them wiggling and giggling, kicking their feet out at him playfully. He sighed, resting his head into the crook of their neck, as he slowly slid one hand up to their breast, his other sinking to the meat of their thighs.

He pressed his hand to their skin, feeling for their heartbeat, that beautiful thumping against the tips of his fingers. It was all so beautiful, and it was all so sad all the same.

He was sure to be soft and tender, fearful that squeezing them too hard would wake them up. He sat up enough to keep watch of their face; their hair and the pillows framed it like a crown. His Donna, his best friend, still giving themself up to him, still so ready for him to know every part of them all over again. It felt all so new and all so old all at once. He knew their body well, knew what made them writhe and cry out in pleasure. He knew it, he realized, better than they knew themself. Tears finally slipped down his face, lightly tapping against his hand.

Touch me, please.

Sighing, his hand dipped between their thighs, lightly pushing them open. Their thin nightgown did little to conceal the heat between their legs. He startled as they shifted them slightly, readjusting themselves. Their face remained calm, eyelids only lightly moving. He didn’t doubt his own spell, knew logically they would sleep uninterrupted throughout the night. He doubted himself, doubted he could ever do this again without inflicting some sort of agony on them. But there he was, slowly lifting their nightgown up, revealing their legs more and more. The unruly leg hair that matched their hair; it was still black, something he was unused to. In moments like these, they would be positively glowing pink, from their hair to their cheeks. But this had to be enough, had to be enough for now.

“Ya omri,” he whispered against their neck right as he cupped their breast in his hand. His hand trailed up from their knee to their inner thighs, tickling the smooth warmth there. Donna stirred slightly but did not wake; instead, they inched closer to him, their body reacting on its own, on instinct, to his touch. Skin seeking out another’s skin; heat wanting to combine heat. “Oh, Donna. You’re still so good… always so good for me.”

Sighing, he could do nothing else but kiss their face and neck again, his hands finally brave enough to squeeze and massage and push towards that heat. They were wet, he could tell. Of course, they were; they were both in such dire need of one another. Asra rubbed his own thighs together, shivering as his erection rubbed against his satin pajama pants. Gods, they felt the same as always. Their breathing remained steady even as he took one of their nipples between his fingers, even as he curled his fingers up against their clit. They stirred only slightly, their body subtly shifting to meet his hands where they want.

It's okay, I promise.

He all but tore the nightgown from them, all but swallowed them all up for himself. Gods, he was so selfish. Laying here now, taking their sleeping form in his arms and kissing along their breasts, along their ribs, their stomach, he realized it now. He was so, so selfish, and he was so, so sorry and would be for some time. But for now, feeling Donna inch up to his touch, hearing their dreamy sighs, watching their legs spread wider for him was enough. Any crumb, any drop of water would be enough compared to how he was depriving himself already. His fervent kisses sank lower and lower, his hands grazing every inch of exposed skin he could reach.

This time, he would will it all to his memory without fail. This time, he would be remembering for the both of them.

He was barely thinking as he sank his face between their thighs, holding them open with care, lovingly stroking their inner thighs with his thumbs. They stirred once again, seeking out his lips without realizing it. He could have wept just being that close to them again, smelling them once again, tasting them like he had before. He could have throttled himself thinking back now, how haphazard he was, how leisurely he had accepted their play. How foolish it all was now, not savoring their time together, not appreciating it as he should have.

He brought his lips to them like he was starved—he was. He lapped at them wantonly, wanting to commit every taste, every sensation, to memory. How they twitched against his tongue, how they opened up for him as he pressed forward. Donna’s legs shifted again, opening wider for him easily. Their bodies moved together under Asra’s guidance, pushing and pulling together. Asra weakly groaned into them, unable to stop himself from rubbing his throbbing erection any longer. He heard Donna sigh, almost like a yawn, but they did not move; they laid there, open for him, as they sought his mouth out more in their sleep.

“Donna,” he whispered to no one, voice breaking once again. “My Belladonna…”

He came undone all at once, shuddering and gasping into their thigh. Exhausted, he was so exhausted. And emptied. Soundlessly, he rose to sit up, trying to steady his breathing as he stared down at Donna, still fast asleep. The insides of their thighs still glistened in the little light of the room; their chest was exposed, still, rising and falling steadily. They did, surprisingly, look flushed in the face, but their expression was calm, serene, unaware.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Asra curled up next to them, resting his head against their own. He shut his eyes, unsure what to think or what emotion he felt. Part of him wished that this could be it, that there would be nothing after all of this.

He tensed as he felt hands, those small hands he knew so well, reach and grip his own.

#the arcana #the arcana lemon #asra alzanar #the arcana fan apprentice #fan apprentice donna #donna x asra #lemon #bottom writes #bottom does kinktober again #kinktober 2021 #i literally went insane writin this fidghfidgh sorry for the serious but I also like this a lot sooo #next fill we get nasty af again though <3 LOL

26 notes · View notes