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formulas-bitch · 2 months

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carlos sainz x media reporter/reader

1.4K words

The tension was palpable as the crowd roared, their voices a cacophony of excitement and anticipation. The F1 driver, clad in his signature red racing suit, stood at the starting line, his heart racing in tandem with the engines. He glanced over at the media reporter, her long brown hair dancing in the wind as she leaned against the barricade, her gaze fixed intently on him. Neither of them noticed the other, lost as they were in the thrill of the moment.

As the lights turned green, the driver's car lunged forward, tires squealing in protest. He weaved expertly through the pack, his muscles taut and his reflexes sharp. The reporter, meanwhile, dashed from barricade to barricade, her camera darting this way and that, capturing every breathtaking moment. The air crackled with the energy of their shared passion, and even from afar, they could feel their connection growing stronger.

After the race, as the driver climbed out of his car, sweat-drenched but triumphant, the reporter made her way through the throng of people toward him. She extended her hand, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Congratulations," she said, her voice husky with emotion. "That was an amazing race." He took her hand in his, feeling a spark of electricity course through him at her touch. "Thank you," he replied, his voice equally unsteady. "And thank you for being here today."

They exchanged numbers, promising to meet up later. As he drove away from the track, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of something truly special. Perhaps, against all odds, they could find a way to make their love work, despite the challenges that lay ahead. For now, though, he was content to bask in the afterglow of victory and the knowledge that she was out there, cheering him on.

Their first date was a whirlwind of laughter and conversation, as they found themselves unable to resist the pull of their shared interests. They talked about racing and media, of course, but also about their families, their dreams, and their fears. It was as if they had known each other for years, rather than just meeting for the first time. As the night wore on, their hands kept finding their way into each other's, a silent promise of where this could lead.

Their relationship moved quickly, fueled by their mutual passion and understanding. They traveled the world together, attending races and press conferences, always at their best when they were by each other's side. The world of F1 and media had never seen anything like it, and the attention they received was both a blessing and a curse. But they managed to navigate it together, always finding solace in each other's arms at the end of a long day.

As time went on, they faced their fair share of challenges. There were rumors and speculation about their relationship, and there were times when they doubted themselves and their future together. But through it all, they never lost sight of what was important: their love for each other and their unwavering support for one another. They knew that they were meant to be together, no matter what the world threw at them.

On a warm summer evening, under a star-filled sky, he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. Of course, she said yes, her eyes shining with tears of joy. As they embraced, surrounded by the love and support of their families and friends, they knew that they were beginning a new chapter in their lives together. A chapter filled with love, adventure, and endless possibilities. And although the world of F1 and media would always be a part of them, they were determined to make their own story together, one that would stand the test of time.

Their wedding celebrated their unique bond, a union of two people who had found each other in the unlikeliest of places and refused to let anything come between them. The ceremony was small and intimate, with only their closest family and friends in attendance. The bride wore a simple yet elegant white dress, while the groom sported a crisp black tuxedo. As they exchanged vows, their hands clasped tightly together, their eyes never leaving each other, it was clear that their love was as strong as ever. " Carlos would you like to start with your vows please" asked the priest.

“I promise to stand by your side, to support and cherish you in all the seasons of our life together. I vow to be your confidant, your partner in adventure, and your comfort in times of sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to respect and honor you, and to always strive to be the best version of myself for you. I look forward to a lifetime of laughter, love, and growing old together. With all my heart, From this day forward, I promise to love you with all the love I can muster. I vow to be your shelter in the storm, your confidant in moments of uncertainty, and your joy in times of celebration. I promise to cherish the uniqueness that you bring into my life and to build a future that is rich with happiness, laughter, and shared dreams. I commit to being faithful, patient, and understanding, and to always finding ways to express my love for you. With these words, and all the love in my heart, I take you as my wife, and I am honored to be called your husband.” Carlos spoke as he slipped Y/n's ring on her finger.

"Y/n you may say your vows now' spoke the priest

" I love you with my whole heart with a passion that can't be expressed in words, only in kisses, glances, and years of adventure by your side. I promise to be your honest, faithful, and loving wife for the rest of my days. I pledge to honor you, love you, and cherish you as my husband today and every day. Today I say, "I do" but to me that means, "I will." I will take your hand and stand by your side in the good and the bad. I dedicate myself to your happiness, success, and smile. I will love you forever. You are my every dream come true, and I can't wait for the reality we get to build together. I promise to be your guiding light in the darkness, a warming comfort in the cold, and a shoulder to lean on when life is too much to bear on your own. Give me your hand, and I will give you forever. You are loved more than any metaphor can ever try to express—my love, my husband. I vow to always protect you from harm, to stand with you against your troubles, and to look to you when I need protection. There is no remedy for love," says Thoreau, "but to love more". Today and forever, I will follow his advice and seek my remedy in your arms. You make me laugh, you make me think, and above all, you make me happy. I promise to be your navigator, best friend, and wife. I promise to honor, love, and cherish you through all life's adventures. Wherever we go, we'll go together. and I'm honored to be called your wife" Y/n spoke as she slipped Carlos's ring on his finger.

After the ceremony, they jetted off to their honeymoon, a romantic getaway to the French Riviera. The sunset kissed the water each evening as they dined on the balcony of their luxurious villa, sipping champagne and sharing stories of their past and dreams for the future. They took long walks on the beach, their feet buried in the warm sand, and explored the quaint towns that dotted the coastline. It was a perfect start to their new life together.

Once they returned from their honeymoon, they settled into a comfortable routine. He continued to race in F1, and she remained a prominent figure in the world of media. They made sure to keep their schedules balanced, ensuring that they always made time for each other. They even started a charity together, using their platforms to raise awareness for environmental issues and promote sustainable living. Their passion for each other and their shared causes only seemed to grow stronger with each passing year.

The years flew by, and their love story became the stuff of legends. They became an iconic couple, not only in the world of racing and media but also in popular culture. Fans around the world looked up to them as an example of what true love and commitment could achieve. They never hesitated to share their story with others, hoping that it might inspire others to find their own path to happiness.

#f1 blurb #f1 x reader #cs55 #cs55 x reader #cs55 imagine #cs55 fluff #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #forza ferrari #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x you

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bexieawfc · 1 year

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i’ll wait forever / alessia russo x reader

childhood friends turned into high school lovesick fools which then turned into long distance strangers, but you both agreed to wait forever, right?

inspiration: i’ll wait - kygo ft. sasha alex sloan

word count: 3.7k

6 years old

you’re 6 years old and have moved town due to your parent’s job. being the ‘new girl’ at school is enough to instil fear in even the most confident of growing children, but from the minute you walked into class and the blue eyed girl with her hair in two ponytails comes skipping over to you exclaiming about how “we’re gonna become best friends!” you knew you had absolutely nothing to worry about.

by the end of that first day, you’ve exchanged friendship bracelets and at the end of the school day, both rush to gush to your parents about the new friend you’d made, both sets of parents contacting eye contact and sharing that soon to be familiar knowing glance and smile of approval.

10 years old

true to her words on your first day, you and alessia had really become best friends, you’d become practically inseparable the past 4 years. anywhere alessia was, you weren’t far behind. you spent more time at her house than your own some weeks, and then other weeks it was vice versa. your two families basically combined into one and you wouldn’t have it any other way. in your mind, alessia was your bestest best friend and there was nothing else to it.

14 years old

you and alessia are still as close as you have always been, but there seems to have been a shift as of recent times.

it’s not something either of you have discussed out loud but you both can feel it, can sense it. the words dancing on the tip of your tongue but refusing to exit past either of your lips. the lingering touches, longer hugs, the times when you think the other isn’t looking.

you’ve both noticed it, but made no attempts to verbalise it. after all, you’re both just friends right?

16 years old

somewhere between the non-verbal realisation and lingering touches, one night, albeit with some liquid courage, you finally take the plunge to confess to alessia your feelings and to your evident relief, all your feelings were mutual. the early stages of the relationship sure came with people giving their unwarranted opinions, but you both vowed to never let that get to you. they didn’t know a thing about either of you.

“people say we’re foolish, people say we’re dumb

people say we’re caught up in temporary love

we don’t know what we’re doing, they say we’re too young

but they don’t know a thing about us”

fast forward

for the past few years as alessia had progressed with her footballing dreams and career, you’d stood by her every step of the way. being the overly loud and supportive girlfriend, football shirt with her number across your back for every single game. you were her biggest cheerleader and to watch your girlfriend progressing with her dream job was enough to fill you with immense pride.

maybe that’s why you were the first person she told about her acceptance into the university of north carolina, maybe alessia knew you’d be the only one to not question the move to america but instead fill her mind with well wishes and reassurance that progressing her career in this way was the best thing for her. it didn’t dawn on you in that moment it meant your sunshine being so far away from you, you were way too wrapped up in celebrating her to let such selfish thoughts infiltrate your mind.

maybe that’s also why on the day before her flight, you’re at her place helping her to pack anything she needs to bring with her to america, still almost blissfully unaware of the reality that lies ahead.

“are you sure you’re even gonna be able to close the suitcase less?” you tease her with a soft string of giggles, clothes and belongings currently overflowing out of the already squish packed suitcase.

“i have too, i already have another full suitcase and i’m only allowed 2 cases on the plane.” she practically whines out, glancing across to you with that same puppy dog eyed expression that she knows has worked on you for over ten years.

with a sigh you walk across to her bed, bend your knees and jump up to sit yourself on the suitcase, helping to put some additional weight on top to try and squeeze it shut. it takes a little bit of manunerving on both your parts but soon enough the zip slides shut - her belongings now sandwiched inside 2 cases, the now somewhat bare room bringing you to your senses and to the reality of what’s happening.

“i am gonna miss seeing you every day..” you speak softly, not even aware the words had passed your mouth till the blonde leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips, reminding you how intoxicating the feel of her lips against yours is.

“i’ll call you every day though baby, okay?” and although it’s phrased as a question, her tone of voice speaks it as more of a command, soft hands moving to rest against your cheeks, gaze locked into yours.

“just try not to forget about me yeah?” alessia then teases, before giggling softly - that sound of her pure and infectious giggle like music to your ears.

“don’t worry lessi, i’ll wait forever.”

you then spend the rest of that night curled up in each other’s embrace, just simple enjoying your last night together before tomorrow.

once the morning rolls around, and you drive alessia to the airport you’re trying to keep a straight and happy face for her, knowing she’s chasing her dream but the reality of just how lonely you’ll now feel has kicked in and once she’s through security and her gate is called, that’s when your flood gates get pried upon, tear sliding down your cheek that alessia is quick to rub away with her thumb.

“hey, y/n.. baby, remember what we said yeah? a couple thousand miles is just a little space. but you’ll always be here with me, right here.” she speaks, her free hand moving to point to her heart. and with one last lingering kiss she’s then headed off and onto the plane, with a beautiful career ahead of her.

at unc

true to her word, your girlfriend had called or face timed every day, some days multiple times in that first few weeks. you both knew those first few weeks apart would be the most difficult, given you’d been inseparable since you were 6. neither of you were used to being without the other person around, so these face time calls were like a moment of pure bliss and serenity for the both of you in between your studying and her football training. it wasn’t easy, time zones certainly having an impact too but you made it work because you both wanted too.

but as the months drew on, the daily face time calls turned into every other day and in turn to weekly. the availability of the both of you became less and less and sure, you both knew this would potentially happen eventually - you both have your own lives to lead, but that didn’t stop it hurting every time you tried to face time to receive a text that was becoming all too familiar

lessi 💛: sorry baby can’t facetime right now, call you later. love you!

and you wouldn’t mind, if she stuck to that. but later was often days later, not that same day. and you weren’t trying to micro manage or say she always had to be available when you called, you knew that’s not how life worked and you’d also been the one to have to cancel before - you just could sense a shift in both of your lives. both of you were beginning to live lives that didn’t involve you two being glued at the hip the way you were before.

without even meaning to, you were both beginning to live, without the other.

couple months later

final boarding call for flight AA5673 to Raleigh North Carolina. you just make it through security in time to hear the final boarding call, practically sprinting across the airport to your gate in time making it onto the flight. finding your seat you sit down and it takes you a moment to regain your breath have just sprinted across most the airport to make it onto this plane in time. but now you’re filled with elation knowing that when you arrive in Raleigh, a familiar blonde will be waiting there for you ready to show you what her life in chapel hill has been like these past 8 months.

you don’t recall much of the flight consider you slept through the majority of it, but you manage to breeze your way through the security and customs, now stood waiting for your suitcase foot tapping anxiously as the suitcases begin to pile through onto the conveyor belt. it feels like an entirety till you see yours, when in reality it’s only been a few moments, you then walk with a joyful skip in your step out and into the main arrivals lounge and before you’re given even a second to glance around in search, an all too familiar, and far too missed, pair of arms wrap themselves around you from behind. you can’t help but squeal in excitement, letting go of your suitcase and spinning around with a jump latching you legs around the blonde’s waist, nuzzling your head into her neck.

“i’ve missed you so much lessi..” you breath out softly against her neck and you can tell by the squeeze of her grip, that she’s missed you too. you stay there just enjoying the embrace until eventually alessia gently lets you down before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and you’d forgotten how soft her lips felt against your own. she grabs a hold of her suitcase before you could even think to complain about it she’s already taken hold of your hand with her free hand, walking you towards where her car was.

the walk to the car is a comfortable silence, alessia putting your suitcase in her car as you get yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. settling into the driver seat and starting the engine she’s quick to start the conversation.

“oh my gosh i cannot wait to show you around everywhere and introduce you to everyone!” she speaks, her words coming out incredibly fast a beaming smile on her face. your hand moves to rest against her thigh as she drives, the gentle yet intimate action causes a blush to creep onto her cheeks.

“i’m looking forward to meeting everyone! they must be pretty cool people to have the alessia seal of approval.” you tease with a soft giggle passing your lips.

“so, unc still treating you well yeah?” you question tilting your head to glance across at your girlfriend, smiling softly still feeling like you were in a dream getting to see her again after so long.

“oh my gosh yes it’s so amazing y/n, i love it here! like i already have learnt so much and i feel like my football has really progressed so much you know like? the style of play here in america is so different to england but i feel like, it’s helped me become a better footballer.”

you can tell by the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her lips how much she loves it here and it’s a sight that warms your heart. the rest of the conversation fills the car easily on the drive to her dorm in chapel hill, catching up on everything that had been happening whilst she’d been here in america and it was almost as if you had never been apart, the giggles and conversation flowing so easily again.

once you arrive she pulls into her parking spot and her friends must of been aware of your visit before similar situation to earlier, almost as soon as you step out the car you’re bombarded with a group of girls rushing to introduce themselves to the point where all their shrill voices merge into one and you cannot make out any coherent words.

“hey! let my girl at least breath would you?” alessia teases the other females as she grabs your suitcase. simple introductions done and her friends are already pulling you away from the blonde despite your clear attempts to stay beside her.

“we’ve heard so much about you, honestly blondie over there doesn’t shut up about you some days.” one of her friends teases her before being met by a slap to the back by alessia, a string of giggles passing your lips at the interaction.

how easily her friends had welcomed you definitely made you smile and it confirmed for you that alessia had surrounded herself with good people whilst she was out here.

i’ll wait forever, it’s never too late

couple thousand miles is just a little space

a week and a bit later

after the initial day full of catch ups and embraces, that same interaction seems to have dwindled down as the week went on. sure you knew she was busy with training and matches, but it felt like whenever she had free time, she already had plans with her college friends and despite how welcoming they were and you were of course always invited along, but you missed your alone time with alessia. even back in her dorm room you’ll go to start a conversation and she’s already fast asleep leant against your chest. it almost feel like your girlfriend was drifting away from you right in front of your own very eyes.

you finally have a day in her dorm room where it’s just you and her, the idea of some alone time with her enough to fill you with joy but it feels different. she’s typing away on her phone more often than she’s talking or looking at you and it’s almost like its the final nail in the coffin for you.

it’s the confirmation, her life no longer needs you in it. despite her being all you’ve ever known, she’s created a life without you in it and whilst it breaks your heart to say, she looks happy.

“less... can we talk?” you question and your voice is soft, alessia’s blue eyes piercing into your own as she responds “sure, is everything okay?” she questions with a raise of her eyebrow, sliding her phone into her pocket of her tracksuit bottoms.

“i just... i feel like the whole distance thing is...” you’re trying to choose your words carefully even though you know there’s no easy way to say this to her.

“i just, think the distance has affected us.”

“what do you mean?” she questions and her almost unawareness to it honestly fuels disappointment inside you that she’s not even realised how she’s been treating you.

“a couple thousand miles is just a little space, and yet here opposite you.. i’ve never felt further away from you.”

you can tell your words have struck a nerve, the shock of it evident across her features as she takes it in.

“you don’t mean that baby..” are the only words that drawl past her lips after she exhales.

“less. i’ve been here a whole damn near two weeks and aside from the day i arrived, the only time i’ve gotten you to myself is when you’re passed out against my chest. and when i was back home, when was the last time we facetimed for a prolonged amount of time? or had a conversation lasting longer than a couple of messages? so excuse me for feeling a little disconnected from you right now.”

“football is important to me y/n!” she almost shrills in response, and your response comes before even a beat of breath.

“yeah. i thought i was important to you too.”

you know your words are harsh, but they are feelings that have harboured silently on your chest for way too long and now they’re all flooding out. this isn’t the kinda conversation you wanted to have because deep down you know where this ends. alessia is all you’ve ever known, and she’s now creating her own life without you and you need to figure out who you are without her.

alessia lives for football, it’s what she was born to do and you would never be the one to want to take that away from her. would never be the type of lover to make the blonde choose between football or you, hell you were her biggest cheerleader whenever she was out on that pitch. but maybe part of you wishfully believed that she could keep up with both, but the distance doesn’t help.

“you are important to me..” she reiterates and whilst you call hear the honesty in her voice, you know deep down she really does mean that. but, it’s all words you’ve heard before, all words that have stopped mending any wounds the distance has created.

“and i’m sorry if i made you feel like you weren’t but, we’re nearing the end of the season and these are the games that matter and training matters and...” her voice trails off at the end, almost as if she loses her own train of thought mid sentence.

you let a breath out that you hadn’t even realised you were holding, one hand moves up to tug through your hair before silence envelopes the situation. silence used to be comfortable with alessia, it was peaceful. but now the same silence feels awkward and thick, almost like it’s further driving the pair of you apart.

the next time you speak, your voice is soft and had it not been for the thickness of silence, your sentence may of gone unheard. “i don’t think i can do the distance anymore...”

alessia had been staring down at her own feet but her head whips up to your face as she hears those words, eyes scanning for any kind of indication you hadn’t meant that, a shaky “wh-what...” passing her lips.

“it’s getting all too much now lessi..” you choke out, taking a second to compose yourself, keep your voice as one toned as possible to stop any major emotions from spilling out and then being unable to bite back any words that are better unsaid.

“the staying up late even when i have class the next morning, on the off chance you’ll be free to face time or the countless times i’ve found dodgy ass streams to watch your tar heel games on, or the frequent times you’ve cancelled on our video call plans last minute to go out with your college friends - and don’t get me wrong i’m so incredibly fucking proud of you but... i can’t be just an after thought in your life anymore. hell, when was the last time you asked me how my university classes were going?”

the words all spill out incredibly fast as if you’re gasping for your last breath. you can tell the second you finish speaking how she feels, the guilt that plants itself across her face. you never wanted to make her feel bad about the situation, or feel bad about her chasing her dreams. you just wanted her to understand why you could not handle the distance anymore.

“i.. - i can’t just wait around any longer.”

your own words are like piercing daggers into your heart and yet it’s her reaction to your words though is what’s breaking your heart more than the current situation.

“but.. we - we said..” alessia stutters out, the pain already laced in her voice. “i thought we would wait forever.”

“i’ll wait forever, that’s what we said

16th of september, lying in my bed”

"i know what we said less but, we were different people back then. our situations were different then.”

you wish you were strong enough to wait, wish you could pull it through. people often say absence makes the heart grow fonder and that may be true but, you cannot handle the absence and distance anymore.

“but i love you,” she chokes out and as you glance up you can see the waters pooling in her eyes.

“i love you too lessi, please believe me i do. but maybe right now.. that’s just not enough.”

you always used to tell alessia that her eyes reminded you of the deepest oceans you could get intoxicatingly lost in, but now stood here, you were the one who had broken the dam and let those clear trails of waters spill out on her reddened cheeks.

you never wanted to see alessia cry, but to know you were the cause for the tears stung more than you could ever imagine. tears pricked at your own eyes and in that split moment you contemplated taking back every single word that had passed your lips in this interaction. to tell the blonde that you will wait, to wrap her up in your embrace and whisper sweet nothings into her ear as the sound of your heartbeat lulls her into comfort. but whilst your heart aches and yearns to do so, your head knows how irrational that is. knows that this will end up having to happen eventually and would hurt even more so later down the line.

“i’m sorry it has to end like this alessia..” unbeknownst to you, the use of her full name is another kick to her already damaged heart.

before you’re able to change your mind, you spin on your heel and head out of her college dorm room sprinting down the corridor and out the halls doors, the cool north carolina air hitting your already rosy cheeks with a vengeance. after stood there for what was only a few seconds despite feeling like an eternity you feel your phone buzz in your jeans pocket, pulling it out - your vision may be slightly blurry due to the build up of tears but you’re just about able to make out the words in the text.

lessi 💛: i’ll wait for you, forever, y/n.

and in that moment you cannot help but wonder if, even after all this time, you and alessia simply just had different definitions of the word forever.

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #my fics #i actually did the thing #everyone is shocked i know #its my first fic so like if i did rubbish then x oops x

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cutieodonoghue · 2 years

Text

invisible string (9/18)

summary: modern soulmate birthmark au; After Omera lost her soulmate, she lost hope she’d ever find love again. Then, a short time before Earth’s first colony ship will be sent to a place they call the Outer Rim, she meets a Mandalorian whose touch makes her Soul Mark burn. (Mandomera!)

rating: hard T

word count: ~5.3k

prev. chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight

read chapter 9 down below or on ao3!

Chapter 9: A Soulmate Bond (Part 1)

“Naturally, your souls will grow closer as you engage in life together, and it is in this space that we have learned the most growth comes in most Bonded relationships. Within the first handful of weeks, expect to discover what research claims is ‘the second Bond’: a level of intimacy only soulmates can understand.” - The Guidebook to Soulmates (pub. 2039, Motto)

Din walked Omera home.

Her day was longer than his, so he waited on her office couch until she was finished. They exchanged little glances every so often while she juggled an endless whirlwind of tasks and his heart skipped a beat when she smiled, no matter how prepared he was to see it.

Fennec watched their private looks with a wry smirk on her lips, but she never said anything about his arrival to her office. She seemed to just know … something.

On the way back from the office, Omera told him that Winta had already made it to her friend’s house for the night, so that meant they could speak somewhat freely when they went up.

Grogu was young enough that anything they might talk about would go over his head, but Din still wanted to be careful. He was the one unpredictable permanent link to the Mandalorians that he had.

“Ohhh ‘mera!” Grogu yelled happily.

He sat in the sandbox in the playroom with toddlers his age, but quickly climbed to his feet and rushed toward Omera with his arms held high above his head.

Omera laughed warmly and bent down to grab him. The kid fit on her hip as easily as he fit on Din’s. It wasn’t hard to see how much mutual affection existed between the pair.

“Hi, Grogu. Did you have a good day?”

Grogu nodded. “Yep!”

Omera turned to face Din and pointed at him so Grogu would look. “Din’s here, too. I think he missed you.”

Grogu curled his fingers into Omera’s shirt as he looked at Din. His cheek touched Omera’s and he waved hello, but refused to move.

The subtle rejection stabbed Din's side, but he took it in stride. The kid was two years old and as a responsible guardian, Din wanted him to feel comfortable around others- especially Omera, who would likely have a permanent place in Grogu’s life.

He grabbed Grogu’s backpack and carried it while Omera asked Grogu questions on their way to the lifts.

“What do you want for dinner? Do you like…” She paused thoughtfully and a playful idea flashed in her eyes brightly. “Mac and cheese?”

Grogu nodded at her. “Cheese!”

“Yummy.” Omera smiled affectionately at the boy. “We can have some mac and cheese.”

Grogu cocked his head. “Winta?”

“Winta’s not going to be home tonight,” Omera said apologetically. “But that’s okay, because we’re going to have so much fun without her. Do you want to go to the beach?”

Grogu grinned. He reached a hand out toward Din. “Da?”

“Yeah, buddy,” he nodded. “Just us tonight.”

He seemed satisfied and rested his cheek on Omera’s shoulder. She left a soft kiss against his head and soothed her hand against his back.

In the back of Din’s mind, there were images he conjured up of Omera with Grogu as he grew older. It was a future he wanted, but he tried to suppress it so he wouldn’t be disappointed if it never came to pass.

There was still plenty of time for things to go wrong. He and Omera still needed to decide what they wanted- together. It didn’t matter that he decided to choose this path for himself. What mattered was what she wanted, and if it worked in tandem with his desires.

When Omera opened the apartment door, she glanced over at him and smiled. “Do you want to help me cook?”

“I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be…”

She chuckled. “That’s okay. I can teach you.”

Omera lowered Grogu onto the floor when they were in the kitchen. He waited with an expectant smile for Din to hand him his bag. It operated solely as a carrier for the toys he needed to get him through the day while in the care of others.

“Patu! Patu!” Grogu chanted as he clapped his hands.

Din knelt down as he passed it off. “Were you good today?”

Grogu bobbed his head. He always said he was good. It wasn’t always the case, according to his teachers, but Din rewarded him anyway.

“What’d you do?”

The boy ripped open his backpack and reached inside for his rabbit. He gripped it tight under his arm before he dove back inside the bag to find something inside.

He held up the day’s art project: a piece of paper with a frog drawn by one of the helpers that Grogu had colored in every single color imaginable, to the point it was barely visible beneath it all.

“Rrrribbit!” Grogu hopped to illustrate the frog.

Din chuckled. “Very good. I like it.”

He put the picture back into the backpack and looked in it to see what else he carried around with him. There were a few thick building blocks they’d have to return in the morning and a toy spaceship that he thought was one of Grogu’s, but couldn’t verify.

“Grogu go space!” He bounced and looked up at Omera. “Vrrrrroooooom!”

Omera laughed, the sound as bright as the sunlight that poured into the apartment. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re going to space. So is Din.”

Din set the toy into the bag again and stood. “Omera’s going to space, too.”

“Ohhh ‘mera go space?” Grogu asked with a tilt of his head.

“Mhm,” Omera replied. “You’ll have lots of friends when we get there.”

Grogu seemed satisfied with her response. He and his bunny tore away from the kitchen and into her living room, where he flopped down on the floor and made boyish sounds that Din had grown very well acquainted with.

“If you’re going to cook, I’d rather you didn’t wear your gloves,” Omera told him gently. She set a hand on his lower back and pressed her chin against his bicep. There was quiet fondness in her eyes that felt like home. “Are you going to take your helmet off?”

Din took a soft breath. “If the kid sees me without it, he might say something. I don’t want to risk it.”

She smiled. “Okay. I don’t mind either way.”

When she pulled away, she went to the sink, where she rolled her sleeves up past her elbows and took the time to carefully wash her hands.

He caught a glimpse of her Mark and his heart leapt. It was impossible to forget about their Bond because he felt it deep within his soul, but to see it on display was something else altogether. It was on her wrist where anyone could see; a permanent indication of the fact that she had found her soulmate- him.

Din pulled his gloves off and set them on the kitchen island before he grabbed Grogu’s bag from the floor and walked it into the living room.

“I’ll leave this here, okay, pal?”

Grogu spun his bunny like it was his favorite spaceship toy and sat up straight, his hair a mess where it fell on his forehead.

“Okie.”

Din waited for the boy to rush over to the bag before he stopped him with a hand on top of his head. The kid giggled in surprise. It was one of his favorite ways to play.

He let go, gently at first to let the kid know what was about to happen, before he fully pulled his hand away. Grogu ran circles around the living room and then crashed onto the carpeted floor with an oof.

“Help please!”

Din bent down and scooped Grogu up with one arm. He hoisted him into the air above his head until the kid giggled and shrieked. When Din was done, he put Grogu on his hip.

“I’m gonna go help Omera.”

“Help!”

Din looked over at Omera in the kitchen briefly before he nodded. “Can we leave the bunny?”

Grogu tossed his favorite toy down onto the couch when Din carried him toward it. Then, they went into the kitchen together.

“Grogu wants to help, too.”

Omera smiled widely at that. “Oh, good. Wash your hands first. I’m going to set the water on the stove and then we’ll work on the cheese.”

“Cheese!”

She chuckled. “You like cheese, don’t you?”

Grogu bobbed his head as Din set him down on the counter beside the sink.

“Hands, kid.”

The kid was more talkative than Din thought he’d be with Omera, to the point that most of their evening was spent focused on Grogu’s happiness with their choices.

It wasn’t hard to make the kid happy. He liked everything they did.

They shared a meal gathered around Omera’s dining table, but as usual, Din didn’t eat. He instead listened to Grogu babble to Omera, words that sometimes needed to be re-contextualized for her sake. She laughed more than she usually did and it made the kid laugh, too.

It was tempting to hold her hand when they left for their walk, especially when he looked at her for longer than a handful of seconds and saw her content smile. But he couldn’t. It was a secret, their Bond, and he didn’t want to put it in jeopardy.

Grogu held both of their hands instead and dictated how fast they walked with his hops against the paved sidewalk. They swung him between them once and it was all he wanted to do for the rest of the walk. He giggled until his eyes had tears in them.

Omera scrunched her nose up at Din, delighted at the sounds of joy Grogu made. He felt nothing but happiness in his soul- met with an equal joy from Omera’s. It was so easy to be happy that he wondered if he’d done something wrong.

While they sat outside of their favorite ice cream place at Omera’s suggestion, Din’s phone went off. Just one message stared back at him when he checked. Seven words. Easy words. No pressure- except for absolutely all the pressure in the world.

Come to training at the covert tonight.

For a few moments, he stared at the screen as if he could make the words disappear.

His duty as a Mandalorian had not dissolved just because of his decision to allow his Bond to Omera to mean something. He still owed loyalty to the covert, and to the Way. He would have to learn how to become Mandalorian in a new way, a way that would allow him his Bond with Omera and the almost impossible clarity that came with it.

“Is everything okay?” Omera’s voice pulled him away from the device in his hand.

Din’s jaw clenched and he stuffed his phone into his pocket once more. “I have to bring Grogu to the covert tonight.”

Omera’s eyes widened with surprise and he could tell by the frown on her lips that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Oh.”

Grogu, who sat between them on his own chair, held out both of his hands and shared that he was finished with his ice cream with a happy, “All done!”

Omera laughed. “All done? Good job, Grogu. You finished the whole thing!”

She had napkins at the ready and wiped his sticky ice cream fingers clean before Din could do the honors.

He hated the idea that their night would have to end. He wanted it to last longer, to at least give them a chance at a conversation. With the kid between them, it was difficult to guide the conversation to what they really needed to discuss: they were soulmates.

“If you want, you can come with us,” Din suggested. “They want to see that we visit training for a little while. Maybe fifteen minutes at the most.”

She glanced at him as she wiped Grogu’s cheeks. “How far away is it from here?”

“Ten minutes,” he replied easily. A sigh slid past his lips a moment later. “They keep bringing it up that I haven’t brought the kid as much as I should, but he won’t be able to train. He’s…”

Grogu giggled, an infectious noise that came straight from his belly, at Omera’s attention to his nose and cooed when she kissed his cheek. She hummed a sweet laugh at the interaction and finally lifted her focus to Din again.

“He’s two,” she finished for him with a knowing smile. “Are there many his age?”

Din shook his head. “He’s the youngest. The next oldest are six.”

“Well, if you don’t think it will be a problem if I wait outside, I’ll join you,” Omera said with a shrug. “I don’t have anything else to do tonight.”

Together, they cleaned the table as best they could with napkins, and when it came time to walk Grogu away from the ice cream shop, he wanted Omera to hold him. She accepted the responsibility with a happy smile.

“He’s so small,” Omera remarked. “I would hate to see him get hurt by someone bigger than him in training.”

Din nodded in agreement. He hated it when the kid got hurt by mistake on his own. He could only imagine the way his blood would boil if Grogu was hit the wrong way by another kid.

“The doctor told me he’s small for his age,” he shared. “He wasn’t fed well before I found him.”

A frown creased her brow and she held him closer. “He probably wasn’t taught much about social skills, either. He can be so quiet.”

Grogu played with a strand of Omera’s hair and she smiled as she kissed his cheek.

“It’s okay to be quiet sometimes, Grogu,” she murmured. “We love you no matter what you do. Even if you make messes. Right, Din?”

While he had never admitted to himself, or to the kid, how he felt about him, it was fairly obvious that she was correct: he loved the kid. No matter what he did, no matter how little he obeyed Din’s instructions and made messes of everything he touched, that feeling never went away.

“Yeah,” he confirmed in a soft voice. “You’re pretty special, kid.”

Grogu’s bright brown eyes shined back at him in the silence that followed and a smile stretched across his face toward his ears. The kid was happy and it had everything to do with the fact that he had found people who loved and cared for him.

Din listened to Omera talk about work troubles for the rest of the way to the covert, and by the time they arrived, he lost any inclination of desire to enter. Just about any other conversation topic or activity would have been a better use of his time.

The covert was positioned between a laundromat and a coffee shop, so when they stood in front of the little corner cafe, he slowed down to ask Omera if she’d wait there. There was no need for her to spook any Mandalorians just by standing outside, and the coffee shop had a few tables near the window that would make it easy for her to surveil in secrecy.

She agreed with a soft, easy smile and a nod that matched it. “Don’t forget me out here. I still want to talk tonight.”

“We won’t be long,” he assured her as she set Grogu down on the sidewalk beside Din. “I want to talk, too.”

As if drawn to him by an invisible magnet, Grogu reached for his hand and tilted his head back with a sweet lopsided grin. There was nothing wrong in the kid’s world. No dueling allegiances. No soulmates or Bonds. There was just happiness, and there was Din.

“You ready, kid?”

Grogu didn’t say anything, so Din looked again at Omera. She eyed him nervously and he nodded at her.

“We’ll be right back.”

Without another word, Din guided Grogu toward the covert and smiled when the kid began to chatter about Omera, confused why they'd left her behind.

“We’ll see her in a few minutes,” he promised. “Just gotta do something first.”

The air conditioning inside the covert was refreshing compared to the heat and humidity of the evening. Upon entrance, he heard the toughened and fierce sounds of Mandalorians deep into the training session for the night.

The kid’s fingers tightened around Din’s. “Da?”

Din looked down at the boy to try and get ahead of any anxious feeling that might arise, but became quickly distracted when the door opened behind them and another Mandalorian entered.

The first thing Din noticed was that he wore a uniform that bore the logo of the apartment where Din and Grogu lived on his chest, and there was a little tab that read: maintenance.

While he had a lot of questions about this Mandalorian maintenance worker, he knew not to ask. It would be better to take a careful approach- to learn by inference.

Din’s eyes met his. They exchanged nods.

“Are you here for training?” the unfamiliar Mandalorian asked.

“It’s his first time.”

Another nod followed a quick glance down at the boy at Din’s side. “It is good to start them young.”

Grogu tried to hide behind Din’s leg, so he scooped the child into his arms and set him onto his hip. The kid wrapped his fingers around Din’s thumb to soothe himself.

“Welcome.”

Din turned at the sound of his accountability mentor. A full suit of armor covered their body, traditional for Mandalorians engaged in combat, and they held in one hand a training staff.

“I see you’ve met Paz Vizsla. He is new to the area.”

He glanced over at the Mandalorian in question. There was an air of judgment in the way he tilted his head to study him. Paz was taller than him, his muscles were bulked with daily use, and he wore a necklace that bore an insignia to denote his rank within the covert.

Paz was a leader. He also appeared to work at Din’s apartment building. The coincidences felt too unique to be random, but he trusted that they were. There was no reason for any leader within the covert to be suspicious of Din’s behavior. If they cared at all, they would have mentioned it already.

“I’ll see you around.” Vizsla’s voice was low, even, and void of any emotion.

The man stepped apart from Din and made his way toward the doors that led into the training room. Din could hear a group inside already hard at work.

Grogu kept his face turned toward the outside doors behind them like he wanted to leave and his fingers tightened around Din’s thumb.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Din told his mentor. “He doesn’t feel safe.”

“There is only one way to teach him to feel safe here.”

With a reluctant nod, Din took his thumb away and ran his hand against Grogu’s backside. “Come on, kid. Want to show you something.”

The sight of a full room of Mandalorians engaged in fights against one another was a familiar one for Din, but a new one for Grogu. The kid was quiet as he took it all in, his fingers tight in Din’s jacket while they found a place they could watch from.

When Din eventually managed to get Grogu to stand on his own again, his fingers gripped his pant leg instead, but he didn’t cower or hide. He just watched, glued to the way the Mandalorians in full armor sparred in front of them.

Grogu tilted his head up to look at Din and then reached for his hand.

“All done?” He waved his fingers at the Mandalorians in front of them. “Bye bye!”

Din couldn’t help but smile. The kid’s innocence was so pure that he hoped he’d never lose it as he grew.

“You’re done? We just got here.”

“Ohhh ‘mera,” Grogu mumbled with a shy grin.

His heart squeezed with affection. The kid wanted the same thing he did: Omera.

From across the room, Din caught the eyes of his accountability mentor, and then Armas, before he glimpsed the new Mandalorian Paz Vizsla.

Would any of them care if he left not ten minutes after their arrival? Would they notice?

Din swept his thumb across Grogu’s fingers and nodded back at him. “Okay, kid. Let’s go see Omera.”

He carried the kid out of the training room without another look back, but with full knowledge that at any moment he might get called out for this decision. It wasn’t as if there were dozens of onlookers for training, and he’d been purposefully invited to attend.

Through the glass doors and windows of the covert lobby that peered out on the street just outside, he saw Omera.

She paced around directly in front of the covert with her gaze averted to instead study the ground beneath her feet. He could only imagine why she’d left the coffee shop where he left her, but the fact that she had done so didn’t bother him.

He and the kid stepped outside and Grogu immediately cooed, “Ohhh ‘mera!”

Omera looked up from the ground and a bright smile spread across her face. With just the sight of it, he felt the same security he used to feel when he was with his parents- nothing could go wrong and he was safe again.

“Hi, Grogu!”

Before they could fully rejoin her, he heard his name from behind him and his blood immediately turned cold. Din turned to address the owner of the voice, but Grogu kept his eyes on Omera, a direct assault on any positive impression they might have left on Armas.

“Is everything alright?” the covert leader asked. “You just arrived.”

Din nodded. “He’s just… tired.”

He put his hand on Grogu’s back, but the kid squirmed restlessly and wouldn’t stop until he put him on the ground. Happy to be free, the child toddled away and went directly to Omera.

Armas, of course, didn’t miss a single beat. “Who is this?”

“Hi,” Omera said politely. She came toward Din and stopped beside him. “I’m Omera. I live near Din and Grogu. We were just out for a walk tonight.”

The Mandalorian leader stared at Omera in silence before her eyes fell directly onto him. His heart began to race. His fingers flexed uncomfortably by his sides.

“The kid needs more time to feel safe around Mandalorians,” Din told Armas. “I will bring him by more often to try to acclimate him.”

“The child is not my primary concern,” she replied coolly. “Come back again soon to participate in training.”

Before he could respond, she turned around and entered the covert again through the automatic doors.

Din closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. When he turned to face Omera, her brows pinched down with nervousness. He could sense in his soul that she was anxious, but there was also something else- guilt, maybe.

“Let’s go home.”

Omera’s silence combined with a slightly unsettled feeling in his soul, which made for discomfort while they journeyed back to their apartment building.

“She wasn’t happy to see me,” Omera finally determined. “I thought Mandalorians were supposed to be good to everyone.”

His eyes closed briefly as his chest tightened with anxiety. “She suspects you’re my Match.”

Omera’s eyes widened slightly. “You didn’t tell them who your Match was?”

“No,” he sighed. “They know that we work together and live nearby.” With a glance at Grogu, he shook his head. “Wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together.”

She nodded slowly. “Right.”

If Armas knew from inference that Omera was his Match, all it would take was one misstep. He treaded dangerous waters, but he wouldn’t stop. Omera was worth the danger. He'd found something in their Bond that was worth fighting for; something in her that he wanted more of.

“How are we going to do this?” Omera asked. “It feels so… impossible.”

“What feels impossible?” he responded, unsure of what she meant.

“We Bonded…” She paused and flashed her pretty eyes at him while she smiled softly. “Usually that means… a relationship. I don’t know how we’ll manage it with everything fighting against us.”

Din’s mouth went dry. His hands flexed awkwardly. He couldn’t see straight.

When it came to the idea of a Bond, and by extension a soulmate, it was easy to comprehend the value and meaning. He’d quickly learned when they Bonded what it meant, and although he was a novice to it all, he was sure about it.

However, he’d never been in a relationship. It was against the Way to pursue anything more than a friend at the most basic level. It terrified him.

At the same time, he knew that she was part of him, that she was safe, and he wanted more of her in his life. If that’s all a relationship required, he would easily partake.

For a few steps along their path toward the apartment, they were both deathly quiet. Even Grogu seemed to pick up on the silence and babbled, “Hi!”

Omera chuckled. She allowed the kid to wrap his little fingers around one of hers. “Hi, Grogu.”

When she eyed him again, she cleared her throat before she said slowly, carefully, “I’ve always heard that the beginning of your Bond is the best time to figure out the rhythm of the relationship.”

His heart flipped. “What does that mean?”

A playful and sweet smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She appeared to be completely unaffected by the fact that he knew so little about relationships and soulmates. In fact, she seemed to find it endearing.

“Getting to know one another better,” she replied. “Our souls might be Bonded, but we need to bond in other ways.”

Other ways.

All at once, his mind sought out answers to what she meant: a relationship was built by not just the soul, but by the body, heart, and mind as well.

“Is that what you want us to do?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Omera met his eyes. For a few seconds, she was thoughtful as she swept her eyes across his helmet. Then, with a nod, she smiled and gave an easy and light, “We already have. All those late night phone calls... taking the kids to watch the sunset... we just need to keep it up in different ways. It’s what's normally called dating, but with a Bond, it’s... unique.”

Din nodded back. He swallowed thickly. “That’s how we'll fight back. We’ll keep going.”

At first, she smiled gladly at his response, but in an instant her expression changed. She softened and became more serious and thoughtful instead. There was a crease in her brow and her lips were downturned as she cautiously tipped her head to the side.

“Are you still sure about this?” she asked nervously. “Our relationship doesn’t just affect us. We have kids… we’ll be on a new world soon… there won’t exactly be room to keep apart in a small colony.”

From what he could tell, she was the one with second thoughts. He’d already made up his mind. He knew she was what he wanted, and he knew he’d make plenty of mistakes as he tried to pursue her in the future- but it would be well worth it.

“Are you unsure?”

The last thing he wanted was for her to hang onto any sense of regret or remorse when it came to him and their soulmate Bond. If she needed more time, he’d give her all the time she desired.

“No, I’m…” Omera stopped herself short of a complete thought.

He watched her soothe Grogu’s fingers against her own. Her sigh was heavy and full of something he recognized: fear.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Omera’s gaze lifted away from the walk ahead of them and she shook her head instantly. “No. Not of you.” She sighed once more. “I’m afraid of myself.”

He frowned. “Why?”

She hesitated. Her eyes shut briefly. “I’ve hidden from relationships since Winta’s father died. What if I can’t be what you need?” Her voice wavered some when she continued, a bold and real admission that came from a secret place, “What if I’m not enough?”

Din wanted to help. He wanted to assure her that it was impossible for her to fail him- that he’d help her, they’d help each other- but their arrival to their apartment building was met with a tired yawn and whine from Grogu.

Omera helped the kid into Din’s arms and their eyes met briefly before she smiled softly and nodded back at him. Grogu’s fist clenched the fabric of his jacket tightly and he whimpered wordlessly.

He looked at Omera when they stood in the elevator. In the quiet air around them, there was a soft expectancy that emerged from the unanswered questions that remained.

“We’re soulmates,” he reminded her. “I’m sure we’ll both disappoint each other, but our Bond won’t go away.”

She closed her eyes for a few seconds and sighed, “You’re right.”

Din reached for her hand to squeeze it gently. “You’ve given me so much already, Omera.”

Her eyes watered and her smile was weak as the elevator doors opened. He didn’t want to let go of her, but did so out of an abundance of caution. All it would take was one mistake in front of the wrong pair of eyes and it would be over.

The walk to Omera’s door was long and silent. When they stood in front of it, she turned to him and nodded at him hopefully.

“Thank you.”

He quickly became very aware that she would be all by herself for the night, but he’d never presume she wanted him to stay. It was time to get Grogu into his bed anyway. The kid was heavy and his sleepy breaths almost felt contagious when he realized a weight in his own bones.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he promised. “Good night.”

There was disappointment in her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a kind smile. “Night.”

Grogu was mere minutes from sleep when Din tucked him beneath the covers of his bed, freshly changed into his favorite astronaut pajamas.

“Did you have fun tonight, kid?”

Grogu reached out toward Din’s face with his fingers spread. “Night night.”

In response, Din leaned down and touched the crown of his head ever so gently to Grogu’s. It was their version of a kiss on the forehead. The boy’s fingers settled against either side of his helmet and he made a little happy grunt.

“Night, buddy.”

When he finally stepped out of Grogu’s bedroom and checked his phone, there were two messages from Omera.

Omera: Would you like to come back over?

Omera: We can talk some more once he’s asleep.

The proposal was innocent, and he’d allow it to remain that way, although he couldn’t help but think about the fact that she asked him this because she was alone. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was for that type of interaction: just the two of them in a safe, private space- uninterrupted.

It would give them the opportunity to bond in other ways, as she’d prescribed. His soul stirred with desire for those new ways, to be refreshed and fulfilled again and again in vibrant color.

Din: Be right there.

Read Chapter 10

#mandomera #din x omera #the mandalorian #my writing #invisible string fic #an update? from me? it's happening #we're halfway through and i'm officially getting the sads :(

3 notes · View notes

parkers-gal · 3 years

Note

yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

want more? my masterlist.

taglist tingz :) 🏷️ want to join? fill out this form.

th + pp taglist: @spideyspeaches @strawberrytom (no smut) @turtletaylor98 @parkerpeterparker2004 @peterbenjiparker @kelieah

permanent taglist: @mayrapreciado20 @tomhollandlol @roseke @supremethunda @wonderfulfluffer @farfromtommy @mamaparker28 (no smut/tw) @pxxerfect (no smut) @seutarose @pixiedustsupplyco @itssmadelyn @white-wolf1940 @woopwoopwoop222 @chrisosterfield (no tw)

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x pregnant!reader #dad!tom holland #dad!tom #dad!tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #tom holland request #tom holland fluffy #tom holland angsty

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nyaagolor · 2 years

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metadede and/or darkroach??

Darkroach on top, Metadede on bottom, thoughts under the cut bc I don't wanna clog the dash, yall know the drill

Darkroach: Imma be honest with you I am not a fan of Darkroach in a romantic context. I wouldn't say I dislike it because it's all fine and good and I would really have to wrack my brain for a ship I actively dislike, but this does nothing for me. It ends up feeling like "oh, two adult men, let's ship them together" just bc they happen to be in the general vicinity of each other, and while the resulting fanworks end up being really cute and sweet (i've read more than my fair share of fics abt it for sure) it doesn't really do it for me personally. Kinda ambivalent overall, I'll still enjoy content

However in my interp I think Daroach and DMK both have a dramatic streak, and while Daroach's is more of performance than DMK's spur of the moment grittiness, it's still there and I think that's a reason for them to bond. While I don't see them as like. Ultimate besties or anything and can't really see them having any kind of emotionally vulnerable conversation, I do think they love being adventure / battle buddies and frequently team up. Exchanging banter and blows, working with each other to piss people off, plunging into the darkest caves and looking for treasure together, that's the kind of stuff I think they would enjoy together and be in their element

----

Metadede: If you look up bromance in the dictionary there is a picture of the KF2 boxart. I cannot stress enough how much I adore the duo between these two. A king and knight. Two people with similar stories working to better themselves after doing terrible things they regret. Silly and serious. Tall and small. Tank and glass canon. Both caring so deeply about their underlings. Ough.

I 100% think they have a really rocky history that kinda extends throughout the franchise, initially built on this cold, mutual disrespect and eventually, as they both grow, forming this really deep bro-bond. By the time RTDL rolls around and they really learn who the other is, they develop this incredibly deep connection to each other.

While I can totally see them in a romantic context, 98% of the time when I write / think about them it's in more of a best friends / homies / bros context. Do they kiss? Probably. Kissing the homies goodnight energy. But generally my brain defaults faster to a friendship. I think these two are the epitome of best friends. They spar all the time, they can communicate without words, they understand each other's strengths and weaknesses and always have a way to help (or hinder if that's what their feeling) whatever issue their buddy might be having

I think their mutual competitiveness and overabundance of energy means they got and get closer mostly through competitions and fighting. Shit like Battle Royale and KF2 happens far too often if only because both of them need to throw down with SOMETHING once a week or they'll go stir-crazy. They crave enrichment in their terrarium. They're the few people who can put up a fight against the other, and I think that having someone who is their equal both physically and intellectually is something they really value and it allows them to get over what would SEEM to be an initial clash of personalities. Bonding via swordplay is always an option and MK has mastered it

Also in general I think they share both that desire to tussle and also a deep and overwhelming love and respect for their underlings which gives them another reason to bond. I will never shut up about that one star allies novel scene where Hyness is hurting the mages and it's meant to directly contrast how DDD and MK treat their underlings. Watching the two of them finish each others' sentences because they are so deeply disgusted by Hyness and how he treats the people who are loyal to him drives me buckwild fucking insane and it will always be something I see as a major connection between the two. They sit around having a cup of coffee just gushing to each other about how dependable and strong and precious their underlings are. Meta Knight brags about how well Axe and Mace are doing in weapons training and DDD pulls out his wallet that's filled with 4,869 pictures of Waddle Dees and gushes about every single one of them by name

The homies. the bros. The bromies, if you will

#negative #not really but like. Just in case #daroach #dark meta knight #meta knight #king dedede #metadede #mod vex #duo bingo

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

505 | G.W

WARNINGS // SMUT 18+, If you know the song, you know what’s coming. Mutual pining, kissing, a lil sadness, George being a simp,

I wanted to celebrate me reaching 500 followers (something I legit never saw happening) by writing a fic for you all!! I went back to one of my favourite songs... it seemed pretty fitting.

ps. please don’t post my work elsewhere, it breaks my heart!!

I'm going back to 505

If it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

In my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

With your hands between your thighs

505 New Harleston St. The place where it all began, your childhood home. It had been years since George had seen you and every part of him dreaded the thought of you loving someone that wasn't him. It hadn't been easy for him to move on, when every beat of his heart was beating for you. As he turned the ignition of the car and rolled out of his driveway, the destination was set in his mind. Each road and turn was like muscle memory as he set off on the forty-five minute drive in the pouring rain to see you. He prayed you still lived with your parents and that you weren't in the arms of another man. He pictured you in your bed, back arching as you touched yourself to the thought of him. The imagery was sinful, and distracting, so distracting that he had almost veered the poor ford Anglia off the side of the road. He however couldn’t pull himself away from the soft melody that was your moans as they echoed around his brain.

Only when he was parked outside your house, looking up at your window, which was only dimly lit, did he contemplate driving back home. But he was sure he was meant to be there, after all even if it had taken a Seven hour flight, he had to be there to see you.

He stepped out of his car, the heavy rain drenching him from head to toe within a few moments. He checked his watch, it was nearly midnight and he hesitated once again. He then noticed the kitchen light flick on. 'it's now or never' he thought, his feet dragging him to your front door, ignoring the doorbell to knock gently on the painted wood.

The knock on your door caused you to spin around and look at the clock, confused at who would come knocking at this time, you assumed it could only be that your cat, Ernie, had snuck into the neighbour's house again. You quickly walked towards the door, words falling from your lips before you could even process who was in front of you. "I'm so sorry, Mrs Jame- George?"

Stop and wait a sec

Oh when you look at me like that my darling

What did you expect

The way you looked up at him with a look of pure innocence and love drove him absolutely crazy. An old oversized t-shirt was hanging against your thighs as your eyes went wide with shock. you blinked a couple of times, thinking your mind was playing tricks on you. He didn't disappear, however and something inside of you roared as you darted forward, hand sneaking up to rake your fingers through the hairs at the back of his neck as you pulled him down and into a kiss. You didn't care that his clothes were soaking wet and that the rain was gusting into the house, you had George in front of you and that was the only thought plaguing your mind.

It was as if all the time you had spent apart had never happened, your body slotting perfectly against his as soon as he had you in his arms again. The kiss you shared was passionate and needy, before you knew it, he had you trapped between him and a wall, making out like teenagers again, your hands frantically pulling off his jacket and letting it fall to the floor.

"Georgie.. I've missed you." Your eyes were wide, looking up at him innocently and full of passion, it was a look he was obsessed with. The nickname you used for him brought back so many old memories that he knew that he had to have you back and he would do anything in his power to call you his once more. His hands had slipped under the t-shirt to rest against your waist, the feeling of his large hands on your warm skin was familiar and intoxicating. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, my angel, I miss us."

His confession had you weak at the knees. Despite the fact that your break up was messy, the love you shared for each other had never left. Having both gone through the war with each other and gaining trauma that neither of you knew how to process, resulting in more frequent arguments, less affection, more ange and more more resentment until you both decided it was best for the both of you to part ways. Over the years, you had taken the time to heal but George however, grew insecure and lost confidence of his own worth. He didn't know how to move on in life without you by his side.

That's why kissing him felt so natural, his lips and arms felt like home to you. It was why you were willing to risk it all and take him back. It was also why you were sure you were sure you'd let him fuck you senseless in the hall out of desperation. You were still in love with him and a part of you had truly never stopped loving him, even after all this time.

I probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

Or I did last time I checked

You'd pulled the boy up to your room, stripping him of his damp clothes and admiring every inch of his skin, you had to pinch yourself every time because having him here felt like a dream. As you lay on your bed, your head on his chest, you listen to the in and out of his breath, letting his heartbeat remind you that he was in fact here, and not hundreds of miles away.

He didn't try to initiate anything you didn't want to do, talking into the early hours about everything you'd done since you'd last seen each other. You confessed that you would take him back if he wanted you. George's eyes went wide at that statement, his breath hitched in his own throat. He took the opportunity to kiss you again, the soft, open mouthed kisses turning quickly to a more passionate exchange as your tongues brushed against each other. He pulled you on top of him so that you were straddling his hips, his hands guiding your own to gently rock back and forth against his.

You were grinding against him, feeling the desperation for him grow inside you as you were reminded of the mind blowing sex life you used to have, you adored him even as he was fucking you relentlessly, hand wrapped around your neck. You missed being touched the way he touched you. You picked up the pace, causing a string of moans to fall from your lips, it was enough for him to buck his own hips up to meet yours. As if he could hear your thoughts, a hand moved up to grasp at your neck, a smirk plastered across his lips. "Always knew you liked that, Princess."

The string of moans that fell from your lips were pure filth but nevertheless, music to his ears. You were adults, pining over one another, in a situation not too dissimilar from one you had with him as teenagers, sneaking away from your group of friends and up to the dorms. Coincidentally, it was the same day he'd told you he loved you.

Your mind was flicking back and forth to the present and the past as George's hands trailed gently up your sides. The look in his eyes was pure lust as he pulled you in for another kiss. His kisses were intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from going in for another, and another, and another.

"We don't have to do this, not if you're not-" You cut him off with a simple kiss, before pressing your lips to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses down to his collarbone, slipping between his legs with a content sigh. "I want this George, I want you."

You had started by palming him through his boxers, watching as his head fell back into the pillow. There was no rush, just gentle, meaningful movements. When you finally pulled his cock from his underwear, his heart sped up, you rested your cheek against his thigh as you stroked him, his hand smoothing over your hair as warm moans fell from his lips. You looked up at him through your lashes, as amazing as George's more dominant side was, to see him completely at your will as his cock was in your hand made you feel so powerful. Your hand was perfect, small enough that when you wrapped your hand fully around, the squeeze was enough for him to feel like he was in heaven, not to mention the way you looked at him. You truly were his angel.

He had flipped you over before you could even take him in your mouth, he was gentle as he pulled your shirt over your head, kissing every part of skin he could. This moment with you was everything he was waiting for, to be with you, intimate and in love. He slipped your underwear to the side before pushing into you. It felt like everything you could've needed in that moment, he didn't make it rough or push you. He simply made love to you as the sun rose, mumbling words of pure praise against your lips. "You're doing so well, Princess, taking me so, so good."

His fingers found your clit, rubbing circles with his middle and pointer finger as he brought you close to your release. His hair was hanging messily as his hips rocked into yours. "That's it baby, cum for me, such a good girl."

When you came over him, your mind went blank except for the thought of him. It was perfect, he was perfect, he was repeating over and over that he loved you. Godric, did you love him too.

Not shy of a spark

A knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

You and George had been back together a whole month before he offered for you to move in with him. You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t hesitated when he asked. You were worried that perhaps since getting back together things were moving too fast again, but as soon as he’d shown you his beautiful home, all worries seemed to fade. When George bought the house, he imagined what life would be like with you sharing his home - your home together. Everywhere he looked, he imagined what your future children would be doing as they ran around the halls. Everything he seemed to do was with you in mind.

It was one particular evening where you’d come back to your now shared home to find George sat alone on the sofa, all of the lights still turned off. He hadn’t even noticed you enter, he was silently sobbing as tears rolled down his cheeks. Thoughts swimming in his head of not being good enough for you, that he fell short of being everything you needed. He didn’t know how to process these feelings, he hadn’t learned how to cope with the negative thoughts, let alone how to tell himself that they were all bullshit.

You noticed the tears glistening off his cheeks, lit only by the lamppost outside, quite literally dropping everything, not caring where it fell. You pulled the crying boy into your arms, his head resting against your chest, the salty tears transferring to your t-shirt. Once he had come to his senses, no longer lost in his own bubble, the bubble in his throat prevented him from speaking, hardly able to string a sentence together. You did your best to console him, but the pain in his chest felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest and continued to turn the knife.

“I- I know don’t fucking deserve you.” He was babbling over his words as you rocked him, playing with the hair that he had grown out especially for you, pushing the strands out of his eyes and off his forehead. George only managed to calm down by the grace of your soothing hum and gentle kisses into his hair. He still felt the pang of sadness that didn’t want to shift, as a shallow breath rattled around his lungs. “You are enough for me George, I love you and I’ll always love you.”

But I crumble completely when you cry

It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

You were sitting together on the sofa, your head on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined as you watched a movie, something you’d insisted on bringing into your home together. You had been feeling overly emotional In the past week, breaking down into tears over nothing. Just yesterday the sight of orange peel made you tear up. You’d told Fred about it today and he simply laughed at the notion that George had ‘made the orange naked’. While Fred found it hilarious, George hated the sight of you crying. Crumbling completely into a mess to care for you at the very sight of a tear.

Fred and Lee often joked over dinner that George was ‘whipped’. He shrugged off the taunts, retorting back that at least he had a girlfriend. To which the other two boys imitated, un-phased by the younger twin’s attempt at seeming menacing. Lee told you about how they used to call him ‘Whipped Georgie’ back at Hogwarts, a nickname you knew you had heard too often in the quidditch changing rooms. You marvelled at how it was nice to have them all back, but really the group was incomplete without Alicia and Angelina here, you note that you must have them over for dinner soon, or at least another girl’s night.

More recently, however, you and George had been like passing ships in the night, It was kicking into the busiest time of year at the shop and he more often than not crawled into bed with you in the early hours of the morning, only for you to kiss his forehead goodbye as you left for work only a few hours later. The mornings didn’t get any easier, leaving his warm arms another day, to return to him not being there. You feared he would slip away again, a heavy feeling sitting in your stomach as you wake for your day, to see your boyfriend only just slip through the door. You had greeted him once again with a goodbye, your eyes hanging on to his for a pleading moment, as you considered never leaving his hold again.

I'm always just about to go and spoil a surprise

Take my hands off of your eyes too soon

George had strolled into the shop, ready for the afternoon and evening rush, his eyes deep set and tired. It was back to sleepless nights for him. Fred noticed the exhaustion in his brother’s eyes, making a quick decision to send him home. They had only just yesterday had the conversation that George had seen almost so little of you that it didn’t even feel like you were together. That feeling broke his heart.

There were so many thoughts running through his head as he walked home. The usual quick walk was slowed way down as he pondered on every running and passing thought. He was a man filled with worry, what if you had stopped loving him? He couldn’t lose you twice.

He arrived home to you, his precious girl, sat on the bed sobbing, looking down at something in your hands. His whole body ached, seeing the tears physically fall, when you smiled up at him his heart softened, perhaps it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He caught a glimpse of the small blue box in your hands and his eyes widened. George Weasley was always shit at keeping secrets.

His mind told him ‘fuck it’ as he got down on one knee next to you as you were sat on the bed. A thousand ways of saying what he wanted swirled around his brain, he wanted to say the right words and make it a special moment for you. Every moment you had shared together flew past his eyes, it was like watching a star go supernova. Every bright smile and giggle, every kiss and longing look. It was the perfect movie shared between the two of you.

“I think you already know what I’m about to say, and based on the fact that you’re still crying I hope this isn’t a bad time. But Merlin, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you. I want you to be mine forever. I’m sorry that I still haven’t healed and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. My life is you and if I don’t have you, it’s thunderous and wet and lonely. So, my sunshine, will you marry me?

I'm going back to 505

If it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

In my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

With your hands between your thighs

...and a smile

The red-haired boy was sitting at his desk, a dim lamp emitting only the faintest glow. Once again his mind was on the thought of you. The thought of you waiting for him at home, His gorgeous wife, her fingers desperately trying to find a release at the thought of him. He contemplated running home, in a full jog, just to devour you. He flicked back to the day he travelled to 505, how he was so desperate to see you, that he would’ve climbed every mountain just to kiss your perfect lips and see your perfect smile.

George realised that It was never 505 New Harleston St. that kept pulling him back. It was you. You were 505.

@starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @wand3ringr0s3 @vogueweasley @loony-loopy-lupinn

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #George Weasley #fred and george #george wealsey imagine #george weasley smut #Harry potter #harry potter fic #writing #505 #arctic monkeys

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fandomsonrequests · 3 years

Text

unexpected friend

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: choi san

reader: fem

word count: 5.4k

summary: fate decided to test this decade long feud between you and choi san

notes: enemies to lovers AU, toxic themes, character death, substance abuse (it’s not explicit) such as alcohol and cigarettes, heavy themes, language, violence

You had no idea where it started— you just knew that you hated Choi San with every fiber of your being. And unsurprisingly, the feeling is mutual with you.

Maybe it started in kindergarten when he accidentally pushed you to the ground in the game of tag. You got so mad at him, saying that he meant it when he obviously didn’t, calling him stupid because “all boys are stupid.”. Or maybe it started when you knocked over his tower of building blocks as revenge. Or was it when he dipped your pigtails in paint to get back at you? Or maybe the time he spread rumors that you had cooties causing everyone to avoid you like the plague.

Whatever the reason, it spiraled into a childhood rivalry that continued as you grew older. The endless cycle of cat versus dog, taking revenge on one another, followed into grade school, where you reached your horse phase and he reached his gun dam phase. It was inevitable you’d see him again— you both lived in a fairly small town after all.

Petty actions like drawing on the other’s homework turned into stealing each other’s lunches or setting some sort of prank at each other’s seats— whatever your ten-year-old brains could think of. Your screaming matches grew even worse and at one point, you both started throwing punches. The teachers always had to watch you during breaks because eventually, you’d be on top of each other and pulling at each other’s hair.

San had an advantage of course since he took taekwondo, you always ended up as the loser. But in retaliation, you managed to convince your mother to enroll you in some other martial art to protect yourself. And when you won your first little fistfight— you always made sure to lord it over him.

“Hah, you got beat by a little girl! Not so tough now huh potato-head?”

“Shut up horse-face!”

San saw your kindness and charisma towards others as an act. It was your own way of reeling others in to be on your side, gathering some sort of army to help you gang up against him. You on the other hand managed to convince yourself that his cute little dimples and selflessness for others was a facade, You couldn’t believe how many people he’s managed to fool or turn against you. And you’ve always hated him for that. You let it fester as you go through grade school and towards middle school. That hatred you harbored for him was always lit inside you.

Your parents and his were always apologizing to each other during parent-teacher meetings or school events, having to hold you back from jumping on one another. Your dad had given up on the whole thing so he was totally useless; that left you to run to your mother for comfort. Whatever the situation was, at the end of the day, she was always on your side.

“Things will blow over soon. But please, honey, try to stay out of trouble for me?”

So when she died in your junior year of high school, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Your dad had taken to smoking to cope with the loss, marrying a woman who was in love with alcohol while bringing her two hellish twin daughters with her into your home. Things grew miserable for you at home; your dad became a pathetic pushover, letting his new wife run the household. That made you angry— how could he get over your mother so easily? How could he let himself get walked over like that? How could he ignore the way your older step-sisters trampled all over you?

How could he let all this happen?

San’s endless taunting at school didn’t help either. His harmless pranks grew worse as time passed: spray-painting some nasty words on your locker, or setting a bucket of paint on top of the gym doors since you’re always the last one to head out. You’d heed your mother’s words, always doing your best to ignore him. For a while, it had worked and he pestered you less than usual but your mom’s death and the situation at home had triggered something in you, making you snap back. You’d shove his face down into his food during lunch or knock his books down the stairwell whenever you pass by each other. You had even managed to sneak some of the insects from the lab into his gym clothes, causing him to end up with nasty rashes all over his body for a week.

Your physical fights weren’t frequent but they became more violent, with one or both of you having to go to the nurses, holding an ice pack to your busted lips while a piece of gauze was stuck up his bloodied nose. It took several students or even teachers to pull you apart because most of the time no one wanted to jump in and separate you two; it was always so messy with fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was even one point where you both had to go to the hospital for fractured bones. You were both suspended for a week.

Fortunately, things had toned down now that you both were in your final year of high school with the pressure of college and meeting requirements looming over you. Although, neither of you managed to make up. You’d still exchange some foul words but the stupid pranks and fights had simmered down. That never meant you were on good terms though.

But then fate decided to be a little shit and put you in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in.

Your new biology teacher didn’t seem to be informed about the decade-long feud between you and San. So when she assigned the both of you as partners, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as a sick feeling crawled over you. You wanted to cry and throw up at the same time- that’s just how much you despised him. You both tried to plead with her to change partners but she was as stubborn as a mule, insisting that you two can “sort out your differences” and finish this project as a team.

And now here you were, avoiding each other’s stares despite being sat next to each other. The proximity between you two was suffocating, it made it hard to focus on the project being explained to you by your cruel teacher. Your skin tingles unpleasantly whenever either of you shifted in your seat, your arms just several centimeters away from touching each other. Many thoughts ran through your head on how you can get out of this. But you knew that you had to find some time to work on the damn thing together or else you’d flunk high school— and being stuck in community college, never being able to leave this town, was not worth hitting San at the back of the head and gloating at him.

“You have the rest of the period to plan with each other. Make sure to have your presentation set and ready for next week.” Your teacher says and sits at her desk.

The room was filled with chatter as the students started conversing with each other. Many pairs threw knowing stares at you, worried that you’d be at each other’s throats. Surprisingly you weren’t… at least not yet anyway.

For a while, neither of you said anything to each other. San simply scrolled through his phone hidden under his desk while you organized your final notes. Minutes tick by and the class slowly comes to an end. With a heavy sigh, you decided to swallow your pride and talk to the guy.

You turn to the boy, roughly shoving his knee with yours and he sends you an irritated glare. “C’mon we need to plan for this.” You deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you.

San returned the sigh and pocketed his phone, shifting to face you. “Alright then. So what’s the plan?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, dumbass.” You mutter, growing irritated. You clench your fists together in an attempt to keep your calm before continuing. “Anyway, we’re supposed to make some model of the nerve cells then present it.”

San stays quiet for a moment before speaking up. “My sister has some spare clay and wires from her sculpting hobby. I could ask for some.”

“Great. You work on that while I work on the script.” You conclude before going back to your notes.

“Hold on- you’re gonna leave me with all of the hard work?”

“We have the same workload?? I’m making the script.”

“That’s easy- scripts can be finished within a day or something.” San shot back, finding the arrangement you had set, without his consultation by the way, as unfair.

“Then I’ll help you when I’m done. Quit whining like a bitch.” You sigh, having no energy to continue the argument with him.

“Asshat…” He mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to text his sister. He expected some sort of retaliation from you but you simply remained quiet. That was odd- considering that you never missed the chance to have the last word in. Maybe you just weren’t feeling it today.

Nevertheless, he ignored you, deciding that it wasn’t worth pestering you at the moment. The bell rings, signaling the end of the class, and you’re immediately up and out of your seat, stuffing your notebook into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. It almost hits San’s cheek in the process but you were already walking out the door before he could call you out on it.

“Geez…” He huffs and keeps his own things, glaring after you while hoping that time would fly by fast so that the project was done and over with.

A few days have passed by since the biology class. True enough, you’ve finished writing and even printing the script within the day the project was assigned to you. So now you were stuck helping out San with sculpting the whole model. You two would work together at the back of the library after school. Initially the librarian was hesitant about letting the two of you inside given your reputation and all. But when she saw that neither of you were at each other’s throats, surprisingly, she allowed for you to work on it in the library.

Of course you and San still had some disputes— how it’s supposed to be positioned, what shape it’s supposed to take, yadda yadda. But it had never escalated into a full blown argument because it always ended up with you taking the blow of his harsh words. That alone started to concern the boy, you’d always get back at him. But your resigned silence after every quip he threw at you started to worry him. Sure he hated your guts but San wasn’t a nasty person. He knew something was bothering you. But, he never took the initiative to ask what was bothering you; it wasn’t his problem anyway.

A weekend away from Monday aka the day of your presentation. The model was almost done— it just needed a paint job. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, meaning the school was closed, neither of you were able to work at your usual spot. So San decided to just take the whole thing to your home to finish it. Of course he could finish the whole thing himself but he had a party to attend later in the evening, and he didn’t want to miss out on it.

He arrives at your home, model in one hand and a crate of paints in the other. He takes note of the absence of your dad’s and step-sister’s cars in the driveway and assumed that you were all out. He sighs in frustration, hoping that that wasn’t the case. Jogging up to the porch, the boy sets down the crate and rings the doorbell a couple of times, foot tapping against the wooden floorboards as he waits.

When there was no response after a few minutes he tried again, this time ringing the doorbell a bit more frantically. Before he could turn around and head back home after getting no response, he hears frantic footsteps scurrying inside and steps back as the door swings open. There you were, hair looking like a bird’s nest while your week-old cardigan hung off your shoulders. There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like a hobo who had the opportunity to clean after themselves. In other words: you were a mess.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You snap the minute your hazy mind registers that San was standing at your door.

The said boy snaps out of his own trance and shoves the model in your face. “We need to finish this.”

You stare at the figure in his hand then to the crate by his foot and then to his face that displayed an expectant expression. You sigh and rub your face. “Couldn’t you have finished it yourself?”

“I’m busy later.”

Another sigh leaves you and you step back to let him in. He enters the house, leaving his shoes by the door as he looks around the place. It was a bit messier than he had expected. There were rumpled coats hanging off of the arm of the couch, a small pack of cigarettes and a few bottles of cheap beer on the coffee table. The wallpaper was starting to fade with a few faint stains here and there.

San stays quiet as he follows you through the house, seeing the small stack of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink. He turns back to look at you, finding your silence as unnerving. You only trudged up the stairs, motioning for you to follow him. He expected to see you turn down the hallway and enter one of the rooms but was quite surprised to see you stop by a frayed rope hanging from the ceiling of the hall. You reach up and tug down on it, revealing the ladder towards the attic.

“Don’t tell me you live up there,” San jabs.

“Yeah and what of it?” You grumble, sending him a tired glare over your shoulder before climbing up the ladder.

He was stunned into silence when he realized that you were serious. He bites his tongue and refrains from jeering at you, handing the box of paints to you before climbing up. Several thoughts ran through his mind— why was your room in an attic? And since when did you start smoking and drinking? Was it even yours?

His head pokes into the surprisingly clean but small room. Your bed was pressed up near the slanted wall of the roof, several polaroids of you, your few friends, and your mother plastered along it. On the opposite side was your desk and your wardrobe whose paint was starting to chip off. Several boxes, labeled and not labeled, were pushed to the corner of the room, stacked in a way for them to take up less space.

San looks to you rummaging through your desk, probably finding a brush or something. He wordlessly steps into the room and pulls the rope, closing the trapdoor beneath him. He turns to you again and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting the question that was plaguing his mind: “What the hell happened to you?”

You turn on your heel, almost knocking over the picture frame of you and your mom. Your hand reached out to steady it before answering San. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Why do you live up here?” He motioned to the whole attic space with his arm. “Don’t you have a room downstairs?”

“I do.” You simply say and take the crate of paints, pulling out the needed colors and some paper cups for you to place them in.

When you don’t elaborate, San squats down to your level on the ground and tugs the purple paint tube out your hand. “What happened to it?”

“Why do you care?” You snatch the tube back with a hiss, preparing all the things needed. “It’s none of your business…”

The boy sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He nibbles at his cheeks, carefully going over what he wanted to say. “...look, _____,” he starts, voice surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to tell me everything but you don’t have to keep everything in.”

You don’t answer him or make any move to acknowledge what he had said. But you were listening; part of you decided to take down your walls for just a moment and hear what he has to say. And San seemed to sense this because he continues.

“I’m not gonna say that ‘I’m here for you’ and all that crap but, there are people who're willing to listen to you. Whatever you’re going through right now, no matter how big or small it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Again, you don’t respond. A moment of silence full of high strung tension passed by. It was only a few seconds but it felt longer than that— especially since you both stopped in what you were doing and stared at the ground or at each other’s hands.

You always hated San but you couldn’t help but sense the sincerity in his words. It’s kind of pathetic but at the moment, his genuinity, the softness of the way he spoke was what you were craving for. At that moment, you just wanted assurance that things will be okay and that whatever you were doing in life wasn’t useless. And the guy you seemed to hate most was offering you that.

Tears prick at your eyes and you hastily brush it away with the sleeve of your cardigan, refusing to show any weakness to your nemesis. But it was hard; once the tears started flowing it was difficult for you to stop. You play it off by finishing up in preparing the paints, suppressing any hiccups or sobs that would escape before eventually giving up and bringing your legs up to your chin, crying into your sweats. Fuck it if San sees.

You curled up into yourself, crying into your pants when you felt a gentle but hesitant hand on your shoulder. You jolt at the touch, seeing San back away quickly. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were pursed, almost as if he were thinking about what he was going to say.

“G-go on, gloat,” You hiccup, choking on your tears. “I look like a m-mess anyway…”

You were surprised, and a little bit embarrassed, that he didn’t follow with what you said. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of tissues and handing it over to you. He looked up to your desk, seeing your water container on your desk. He stands up to take it, shaking it to check if there was still some water in it, before placing it by your foot.

“I’m not going to lie, you are a mess,” San says before returning to his previous spot on the floor. “But I guess that’s normal when you’re having a shitty day.”

“More like a shitty life…” You mumble. You chug down the rest of your water, managing to stop your tears as you wipe them away with the tissues. You look up at the boy across you and sigh heavily. “It’s my step-mom,” you say.

“I’m sorry?”

“My step-mom. She made me move up here so that her daughters could take my room.” You explain. “My dad didn’t say anything because he’s a pushover, wasting his life away on cigarettes and the alcohol his wife buys…”

San nods slowly in understanding, finally making sense of what he saw in the living room and kitchen. That explained a lot of things: why you would always faintly smell of alcohol or nicotine a few months after your mother had died. It had honestly shocked him to hear that— your dad and step-mom always looked presentable in public. Your step-sisters were a bit more extravagant but neat nonetheless. The way they talked and carried themselves didn’t seem to indicate that they had any substance addiction.

Thinking back on it, it had also explained why you were so irate and moody almost all the time, leading to you losing some friends in high school as you fell back into yourself or into violence. It was a defense mechanism— you didn’t want to seem vulnerable because at home, you were vulnerable enough.

An idea pops into his head and he promptly stands up, momentarily making you jump from his sudden movement. You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Come with me.”

“What???”

“I said get up and come with me.” San says and actually held his hand out to you.

You look at it skeptically before looking up at him, contemplating about any consequences in following him— if there were any. He wiggles his fingers, impatiently coaxing you to join him and you finally make up your mind. Might as well follow him; you had nothing to lose anyway.

You swat his hand away to get up on your own, mumbling something along the lines that you could get up yourself before straightening yourself out and placing your hands on your hips. He gives a satisfied nod and grabs his shoes to put them on. He then kicks open the trapdoor before heading back down for you to follow.

He returns to the living room with you trailing behind, still wondering where exactly he wanted you to go. When you glance at the clock you see that it’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something land by your feet. You whipped your head around to see San pointing at your shoes which he probably threw at you from the door.

“We’re heading out for a while.” He says as he exits your house. You take a moment to process what was happening when he pops his head in. “Come on slowpoke.” He ushers you.

You hastily throw on your shoes, grabbing the house keys hanging by the coat rack, and hop out of the house. You lock the door behind you and approach San who was sitting upon his notoriously loud motorbike. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling down behind him.

Your arms awkwardly flutter beside you, opting to hold onto whatever space was left on your seat. You jump in surprise when you hear and feel the engine roar to life, eliciting an amused chuckle from the boy in front of you. You glare at the back of his head, smacking his shoulder and settling yourself once more.

“Hold on tight,” San tells you as he revs up the motorbike.

“I am.” You argue and strengthen your grip on the seat, shaking the bike a little to emphasize your point.

“No you aren’t.” You feel heat rise to your face when he tutted in annoyance, taking your arms and placing them around his waist. “There you go. See? No harm done.”

You only grumble something in response, making him chuckle to himself. It was a bit strange to see you tame like this. Sure it kind of boosted his ego considering that he managed to make you flustered with just a few words and a simple action but he actually kind of liked it when you weren’t at each other’s throats. He revved up the engine again before taking off and speeding down the road.

The evening breeze is cool as it whips through your hair and brushes against you, sending small goosebumps running down your skin. A small yelp escapes you when San picks up speed, causing your grip on him to tighten. He glanced back at you for a moment before taking the turn that exits the town and towards the road uphill. It led to the small forest that overlooked the city; it was a popular place in town for hiking or camping. You remember going there to play as a kid.

The air gets chillier as you both reach a higher altitude. You unconsciously nuzzle closer to the boy in front of you in an attempt to seek some body heat. The sky grows darker, turning into a deeper blue shade as the night slowly creeps upon the town. Some stars start to peek and settle themselves in the dark blanket of the sky by the time San slows down to a stop. He had stopped by the edge of the forest, a metal railing along the opposite end to keep people or vehicles from falling off the edge.

“We’re here.” San says and looks back at you. “You can let go if you want now.”

At that, you peel yourself away from him and hop off his bike mumbling something about how cocky he was while walking over to the railings. He joins you soon after, keeping a respectable distance from you. None of you say anything at first, simply taking in the view of the city in front of you. Now know why San took you out here: to breathe and clear your mind of things; something that you didn’t know you needed at the moment.

The spot you were in allowed you to overlook the town, seeing the lights from the roads and houses down below. You could spot the water tower in the distance along with the radio tower next to it. As you survey the scene before you, you make out one house in the distance with a multitude of colored lights flashing around it.

“Looks like someone’s having a party.” You muse, finally breaking the silence.

San hums in acknowledgement. “I hope they aren’t missing me.”

It takes a moment for you to understand what he said, perking up when it made sense to you. “So that’s what you meant when you were ‘busy.’” You say as you lightly punch his arm. “You’re such an ass.”

“What? I wasn’t lying; I would’ve been busy.” He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah,” You huff. “Busy shoving your tongue down people’s throats.”

A mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Ew no, gross- I’ll pass.”

You share a small laugh together before settling into silence again. It was… kind of cathartic, being able to actually laugh for a long while-even if it was with your longtime nemesis. It was better than crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

You turn to lean your back against the railing, using your arms to support you as you mull over the forest.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid.” You say, managing to capture San’s attention. “Pretended to gallop along the trees like some sort of princess when I was in my horse phase… I would always come home with scraped knees. I was a clumsy kid.”

“Except when you’d throw punches at me,” San interjected, ghosting a hand over his jaw. “You sure knew how to pack a punch.”

You smile apologetically, a sheepish flush on your cheeks, and look over to him. “Well you did deliver some pretty good kicks- I needed to learn how to defend myself.”

San shrugged in agreement. “I guess,” He muses and offers you a small smile, lapsing into silence again. “You know… it’s actually kind of surprising but you aren’t so bad to talk to.”

You nibble at your lower lip at his confession, unsure of what to make of it. When you look up at him, you see that he had inched a little closer to you. He still kept a reasonable amount of space between you two but it was apparent that he wanted to get closer. He drums his fingers against the cool metal of the railing, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that I’ve hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too. And I want to apologize for that… I know, words are just words. It won’t do anything to reverse or take back what I’ve done to you then, but please, take it as a first step to making it up to you.”

San decided to meet your watery gaze, his chest clenching at the tears you were trying so hard to hold back. He holds his hand out instinctively, wanting to offer some sort of physical comfort. He stops himself midway, opting to just settle it on the rail halfway from you. “You don’t have to make a decision right here and now. You can still hate me all you want, but I promise to leave you alone from now on.”

You whimper pathetically, finally letting the tears flow down your cheeks. You felt guilt consume you at his apology. Why was he taking the blame for everything? It should be you who was saying sorry. After all,you were just as cruel as him. And thinking back on it, this feud had most likely started with you. You raise a sweater paw to wipe at your tears, sobbing into your hand.

God you were a mess.

“Don’t, don’t blame yourself… I should be apologizing too. It takes two to tango right?” You hiccup, managing to give him a shaky smile. “I could’ve chosen to ignore you or direct my anger elsewhere but I still ended up targeting you at the end of the day…”

“_______, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not.” You hiss. “I’m not just talking about what I did in high school. I’m talking about every instance I was cruel to you. It was petty, extremely childish, and just horrible overall. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I want to apologize too. I’ve made part of your life a living hell.”

You glance at his hand on the railing before holding your own out towards him. “Truce?” You offer. “We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy after this but at least we can just end this whole thing.”

San gripped your hand in a gentle but firm handshake. “Truce.” His touch lingered for

just a second before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He returned it to the previous spot on the railing.

The both of you remain for a while, just overlooking the town and reflecting on what had happened. The quiet atmosphere that you both shared suddenly didn’t seem so awkward anymore. Instead, it was filled with some tension but with a bit of comfort at the same time. It was similar to the feeling of a thorn being plucked out of your side: painful but relief that it was finally out.

You don’t expect that things would go right at once— this wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything was magically solved. You both had left some scars on each other, some that are too hard to forget or too deep to heal easily. But you two were working on it: healing and forgiving each other. It was still a long journey but it was something you were both willing to go on together.

You glance to San, seeing how relaxed he was right now. He didn’t look so annoying or so terrifying anymore. A tiny grin makes its way to your lips; never in a million years did you think you’d find solace in someone you despised so much.

“Hey San,” You call out to him, resting your hand beside his, your pinkies brushing against each other. “...thanks for this. I really needed it.”

He smiles at you, flashing his cute dimples at you. It sends a warm, tingly feeling down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel calm at that. “Glad I could help.” He momentarily pat the back of your hand, engulfing it with his larger one when you didn’t pull away.

It was late when he drove you home to finish the project. Unsurprisingly, your family was still out, probably at an event they forgot to tell you about. But you didn’t mind, you had an unexpected friend with you right now.

You smile to yourself as you wave goodbye to San from the doorway, seeing him speed down the road and into the night. He may have been the bad guy in your life but it turns out, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And you were thankful that you were able to see that because at least you knew you had someone in your corner.

#ficscafe #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #ateez san #ateez headcanons

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

comfortable silence is so overrated || h. styles

warnings: drunk harry, alcohol, swearing

word count: 2k

summary: in his drunken state, your friend, harry, makes a confession he would never make when sober...

You couldn’t help but smile at the video of Gemma’s cat, cooing at the purring feline. When the video ended, Gemma pulled her phone away. “She’s so adorable,” you hummed, smiling at Gemma.

“She’s a devil,” she mumbled.

You chuckled, “Excuse me, I will not tolerate any Olivia slander. She is an angel.”

“You’re an angel.”

It was Harry.

Your mum looked over, snorting quietly at Harry’s confession. Gemma laughed, “Harry, you’re so drunk.”

“I’m not,” he replied, his words slurred slightly.

Anne sighed, “Your sister’s right. I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

Harry sighed, laying his head back against his chair. Your mum and Anne exchanged an amused glance at the sight of an exasperated Harry trying to convince everyone he was completely sober. “I’m fine. I didn’t even drink that much, did I? Y/N. Y/N. Did I? I didn’t even drink that much,” he said, frowning.

He was like a child. Especially when he was drunk, he was one of the neediest people you’d ever met. You’d been on your fair share of nights out with Harry having known him for so long. You’d known him before it was even legal for the two of you to drink. You smiled softly, hoping to entertain his beliefs somewhat, “No, you didn’t.”

“Exactly. Y/N says I didn’t drink and if I didn’t drink then I can’t be drunk,” Harry said, turning to Anne.

“No, darling, she said you didn’t drink a lot. You still drank some. And you know how you are with alcohol,” Anne sighed before turning to your mother. “Come on, we’ll go and pay and then we’ll head off.”

Sat at a bar in central London with the Styles siblings, your mother and Anne wasn’t exactly how you expected to finish your evening. You were initially planning to spend your birthday at home alone, maybe call your mum. However, when Gemma called, asking if you wanted to go out for drinks, you agreed. And, upon arrival, you were pleasantly surprised to find your grinning mother with the Styles family.

Gemma slipped her phone into her pocket, pushing her chair away from the table the five of you had been sat at. She mumbled something about going to the toilet. This left you alone, opposite Harry. He stared at you, “I’m not drunk.”

You shook your head slightly, smiling, “I believe you.”

“I knew you’d understand,” he said.

Not entirely sure what he expected you to say to that, the two of you fell into a lull in the conversation. You finished your drink, your eyes flickering up to meet Harry’s. He sent you another smile. You returned it. Harry and yourself had known each other long enough to grow past the awkward silence. Silence between the two of you was never awkward anymore. It was comfortable.

Whenever Harry was drunk, as he was now, you’d learnt to just keep him happy. If you didn’t, he became pouty and needy. And when he was pouty and needy, he became particularly annoying. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Harry asked, his eyes seeming to struggle on one thing.

You almost wanted to laugh, “You know I don’t.”

“Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “How come?”

Harry never usually dug into things like this. But, then again, he was never usually this drunk. You shrugged, slipping your arms into your jacket upon seeing Anne and your mother returning, “I’m not sure. Just haven’t met anyone yet.”

Harry stumbled into your house, nearly falling as he slipped his shoes off. Happily, you’d agreed to drive him home (being the only one who hadn’t consumed any alcohol over the evening). While the other three women were sober enough to get themselves home, whether that be via the underground or uber, Anne felt safer if you drove Harry home. You agreed, mainly due to the fact that Harry’s home was on the way to your house anyway. However, in a turn of events, Harry was now staying at yours for the night.

To put it simply, Harry had accidentally left his keys with Gemma. The two of you agreed that it would probably be better if he went to collect them in the morning, as it was nearing midnight by the time you reached Harry’s house and he realised he had no means of actually getting in. Besides, it wasn’t like you and Harry had never slept at one another’s houses anyway. Albeit the occasion being more rare now than it was when the two of you were younger.

Harry fell onto the couch, pulling one of the throws over his cold body. He grinned up at you goofily as you removed your jacket. “What are you smiling at?” you asked, your cheeks heating up under his gaze.

“You,” he said. “You’re cute.”

“Cute?” you chuckled. “Are we ten?”

He shrugged, “It’s true, though.”

You sighed, leaving him be on the couch. You walked through to the kitchen, pouring him a glass of water for the morning. Your head was full of all sorts of questions. Harry was being clingy, and more clingy than he normally was when intoxicated. You wanted desperately to shrug it off and think nothing of Harry’s odd behaviour.

Maybe it was down to how much Harry had drunk at the central London bar. Saying that though, you’d been with Harry on his first night out when he turned eighteen. And nobody is ever drunker than their first night out. People are excited to finally be able to legally drink and they’re not entirely sure where they stand on the scale of lightweights. Little Harry had been no exception to this. “Here,” you smiled, placing the glass down on the coffee table.

You noticed his trousers had been kicked off, lying in a puddle on the floor. He was still in his t-shirt - one of his graphic ones. The throw was pulled haphazardly over the majority of Harry’s body.

He stared up at you, “What would I do without you? Maybe die. I might. I know it’s hard to imagine that. But it could happen without you, Y/N. You’re like perfect, did you know that? You always take care of me. I want to take care of you. But you never need it. Let me look after you, Y/N. Please. Maybe I am drunk. Hey, Y/N… I think I might possibly be slightly drunk.”

He was rambling. You smiled sweetly at him as he continued on about how ‘there’s a chance he may be drunk’ and how ‘wonderful you were to him’.

You chuckled, “No shit.”

He placed his hand on his chest, “There is no need to be like that. Apologise for that right now.”

Stifling a laugh, you forced out, “Sorry, H.”

He grinned, “It’s okay. I still love you.”

You just smiled at him. As far as Harry was concerned, you hadn’t even picked up on his words. Inside, though, was a completely different story. You were having a complete meltdown at what your friend had just opted to tell you. You watched as he closed his eyes, the tension in his features draining away. You cleared your throat. His eyes snapped back open. “I’m gonna go to bed. If you wake up before me, there’s cereal in the cupboard.”

He nodded, “Goodnight. If your dreams get too scary, I’ll be down here to hold you if you so need it.”

You forced a tight-lipped smile, “Noted.”

Spinning on your heel, you left Harry alone to sleep on your couch. He looked content enough. Content. Why was he content after what he’d just told you? ‘I still love you’? As you brushed your teeth and got changed, finally crawling into bed after such a long evening. The cold sheets felt refreshing against your flushed body.

Maybe he only meant it in a platonic way? You and Harry had certainly told one another that you loved each other before. And that had always been purely platonic. But this felt different somehow. Almost like he meant to keep you up all night pondering his words.

When you were fifteen, you first noticed Harry in a romantic light. For the four years you’d known each other prior, you hadn’t felt anything other than mutually platonic admiration for one another. But then you developed somewhat of a crush on Harry. You never told him - God, you wouldn’t dream of confessing such a thing to him. Not while you were sober, anyway. And then feelings faded and you were relieved to be back to your platonic love.

It was only six months ago did those damned feelings return. You weren’t entirely sure what triggered it, but you’d been in such a predicament ever since. Harry telling you that he loved you only amplified them.

As you jogged downstairs the following morning, you’d almost forgotten Harry was staying at your house. So, when you walked into the kitchen to find him rummaging through your collection of cereal, you almost had a heart attack. “Morning,” he smiled as he turned around.

“Good morning,” you replied. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby,” he grinned. “Did you?”

God, this small talk was killing you. Of course Harry didn’t care how you slept. Nobody ever cares how somebody slept, they’re just trying to make conversation, hoping something they say sparks an interesting discussion topic. “Yeah,” you lied.

You hadn’t slept very well at all. You’d been thinking about Harry’s words up until about four hours ago. Thankfully, Harry didn’t see through your lie, “Good. I’m glad.”

He sat down at the table, spooning some Cornflakes into his mouth. You poured yourself a glass of orange juice, sitting down opposite him. The unusually bright London sun beamed in through your kitchen windows, casting the most glorious light over Harry’s tired eyes.

He pressed his hand to his forehead, wincing slightly. He had a headache. You weren’t exactly surprised after how much he drank last night. The way he was speaking, it felt like he was dodging something. It was awkward small talk. Like he was deliberately trying to leave something out of the conversation. And you had a bit of an inkling as to what that was.

You had hoped he wouldn’t remember his drunken confession. Then you wouldn’t have to talk about it and you could just go on, pretending it never happened. But no, his tone suggested he definitely remembered saying what he said.

The silence you fell into was ten times more comfortable than the desperate attempts at conversation the two of you had been sharing. You sipped your orange juice, staring out of the window at the cloudless sky. Harry ate his cereal quietly, not taking his eyes off the bowl. And, as you finished your drink, you realised you were exactly what you’d been mentally scolding Harry for the night prior.

You were content.

You were content sitting opposite Harry on a warm summer morning, the sun washed over the two of you as you both basked in the comfortable silence between you. It was a little moment of domesticated euphoria. But, to Hell with comfortable silence, “Harry.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking up at you, anxiety pooled in those green eyes of his.

“You know last night?”

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, his gaze returning to the bowl and the spoon between his fingers.

“You know what you said?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” you repeated, though you weren’t entirely sure why you did.

“Yeah, I meant it. I mean it. I love you.”

He said it as if he’d had one of those ‘fuck it, you only live once’ moments in his head. His confidence seemed to pile up upon every syllable that he uttered. “Even though I swore at you?” you smirked, recounting the seconds of revelations last night.

He cracked a small smile, “Yeah. Even though you swore at me. Do you, you know, feel the same?”

You hesitated for a moment, revelling in the moment of sober confessions. You grinned across at the man sat opposite you.

“Yeah.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles imagines #harry imagines

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wildingrose · 3 years

Text

refusal

dark alley help part 7

part 6: intrigued police | part 8: hassle

word count: 2.3k

》 public fingering, denied orgasm, oral

- ✿ -

Just as Taeyong was about to light up the cigarette between his lips, you plucked it out and threw it on the ground, making him breath out a heavy sigh.

"You're nervous, aren't you?" you asked.

He was hesitant to nod. "Yeah. What if-"

You shushed him with your finger on his lips. "There's no need to worry. That what if might not even happen. Remember what I told you?"

Taeyong sighed and nodded, silently reminding himself to not say a word at the dinner unless directed to do so.

You smiled. "Then, let's go!"

After ringing the bell, the door opened to reveal an unwelcoming-looking mother who was fuming not at you...

But at Taeyong.

Looked like you were off to a rough start. "Mom, this is Taeyong, the one I was-"

Her glare still fixed on the man, she muttered angrily, "He is not coming inside."

Taeyong glued his nervous gaze to the ground while you sternly told her, "Mom, can I talk to you first?" You stepped to the side where Taeyong wouldn't hear you, and she followed without dropping her scowl at him.

"Raymond said he's a-"

You cut her off before she could say anything you didn't want to hear. "I knew about Taeyong when you first asked me."

Her jaw dropped. "You lied?"

You nodded. "Because I knew you wouldn't be happy about it."

"You had perfect Raymond to be with and you let him go because of this... one?" She threw a look of disgust at Taeyong.

You held yourself back from clawing at her. "Raymond was talking shit about us and that was why Taeyong involved himself and how we ended up at the police station. You can even ask the officer there. He knows Taeyong well enough that he's a good person. If you can listen and trust me, I say you forget about that asshole you really like and give Taeyong a chance."

At the dining table, your mother kept her eyes trained on the quiet man next to you. Your father on the other hand was eating his meal as if there was no thick tension in the room. Your brother was nowhere in sight and if you had to guess where he was, he would be celebrating with his friends now that the business responsibility was off his shoulders.

"So, what do your parents do?" your mother asked Taeyong.

He swallowed his food slowly, keeping his eyes on the silverware and answered, "I don't have them."

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. I've never met them."

Your father stopped eating and for the first time lifted his eyes onto Taeyong. Your mother's jaw dropped in disbelief, and your breath hitched, finding out something new yet sad about him. "You've been an orphan?" you asked with gentleness in your tone.

He gave a curt nod.

Recovering from the shock, your mother let out an exasperated sigh. "He grew up without proper guidance. Is he really trustworthy?"

Your jaw fell at her outrageous remark. "Mom!"

She ignored you and asked him, "Do you love my daughter?"

Your father stared at his wife in disbelief. "She's mine too."

"You're not acting like it, stuffing your face in the food-"

"Stop!" You shouted without meaning to and mumbled an apology. "Sorry."

Your mother ignored you and resumed her attention on Taeyong. "So, do you?"

Your heart banged in your chest, worried to hear his answer. Liking was mutual, but love? It was too soon for such a confession without having discussed it beforehand.

But it wasn't for Taeyong. "Yes, I do."

You whipped your head to him, utterly shocked by the response.

Humming, your mother asked, "What do you love about her?"

So subtly, the corner of his lips curled up. "Her beautiful soul."

Knowing fully by what he meant, you coughed.

Your mother scoffed. "Oh really?"

"Yes, as beautiful as you, ma'am," Taeyong stated seriously.

The air became so still that your father landed his gaze onto him for the second time, not believing someone said that to his wife. You almost gasped loudly at the smooth compliment, impressed that he was going to earn some brownie points without your help.

Her eyes sparkled, and she couldn't lie to herself that she didn't feel something flutter inside her at the young man's words. "I'm flattered," she spoke softly. "Something this one hasn't said to me in decades," she scowled, nodding at her husband.

"Hey! You never asked for it!"

"I didn't ask for it from Taeyong." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at the man across. "What a kind gentleman. But it's not enough. You know the biggest concern I have with him, Y/N."

A soft sigh left your lips as it was time to break the news. "I'm taking the family business."

All eyes shifted onto you with confusion written on their faces. You hadn't told Taeyong the plan as you wanted it to be a surprise.

"You know your brother is having it,” your father stated.

"And you know very well he doesn't want it. He'd rather have the luxury I got and marry a rich girl. I've already started learning from him today. You won't let me do anything else. At least let me handle the business and be with Taeyong, please?"

The two exchanged silent glances. Eventually, your father spoke up, liking your determination. "I don't see anything wrong with it. What do you say?" he asked his wife.

Your mother watched you with a tensed expression. Her eyes shifted between you and Taeyong before dropping her shoulders with a sigh. "Okay."

"Huh?"

Nodding, she forced a smile. "You can be with Taeyong."

It happened. She agreed. You couldn't believe your ears and turned to Taeyong with a huge growing smile, beaming in your seat with excitement bubbling in you. He smiled back seeing your happiness, but it fell slowly when his eyes landed on your mother. Taeyong observed her demeanor, observing the crease in her forehead. He could read it, having seen it often in his life.

She looked troubled.

Swirling the milkshake around with the straw, you took a long sip and glanced up at Taeyong. He was lost in his thoughts, mirroring your action with the straw. He only had a single sip so far while you nearly downed half of it. The diner was empty except for another couple sitting afar.

Licking your lips, you called for him softly. "Tae, what's up?"

He lifted his gaze and faked a smile. "Nothing."

You scoffed. "Oh really? Says the one who was really hungry since he barely ate at the dinner and now completely abandoned his burger and only tasted his milkshake. Come on, tell me what's on your mind?"

He stopped playing with his drink and pushed it away with a deep sigh. "Your mother... isn't happy."

You quirked an eyebrow up. "That I know."

Surprised, he asked, "Really?"

Nodding, you said, "It'll take her a while, but she'll eventually come around it. As long as she continuously sees me happy with you, she'll trust you one day. Until then, you just have to be patient. It's a big thing she at least agreed to give you a chance so let's cheer to that!"

Taeyong smiled briefly before it slipped off his face.

"Something else is bothering you, huh?"

"The... the business... you-"

You cut him off with a hum. "You're not happy that I didn't tell you about it, right?"

He sighed and added, "And you're doing that because I... I'm- you know..."

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "No, I'm doing it because I want to. And I don't care about what you have or don't have, as long as I don't lose you. It's nice that it worked out, me finally having something to do with my life, and still be by your side. How better can life get?" Taeyong watched your ecstatic smile, beaming so hard that you might split your face if it went any bigger. He'd do anything to see you like this, and so he trusted your word, his appetite at last opening up and devoured his late night meal.

After leaving the dimly lit diner and nearing his car, you halted your steps and told him, "You know you're cute, right?"

He stopped and slowly turned to face you. "What?"

Giggling quietly, you explained, "I didn't think you were the type to worry about what others felt. I thought you were badass, maybe rebellious type. It's cute seeing you worry about my mom. Other guys wouldn't even care."

You thought he'd crack a smile, but when he only stared back at you blankly, you freaked out.

Crap, did I push the wrong button? Did it trigger his orphaned life? "Did I hurt you? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry."

But you didn't. Not when you heard a faint throaty growl. It was so faint that your ears wouldn't have caught it if it weren't for the silence of the near empty parking lot.

In a flash, you were enveloped tightly in his arms as he smashed his lips onto yours, moving rough and fast as if he were starving for your taste.

No milkshake could quench his thirst for you.

You melted into the heated make out session and cupped his face. Too lost in the lip lock, you didn't realize when he lifted you until your bum felt the coolness of a metal surface. When he pulled back with lust-filled eyes, you looked around.

He had put you on top of his car's trunk.

"Tae, why-" You were cut off when he reattached his lips onto you, trailing down towards your jawline and eventually settling to attack your neck. His fingers danced along your bare thighs, bunching your dress upward, and you shivered when his fingers traveled closer to your heat. Your legs quivered when feeling the combination of your growing wetness and the coolness of the night.

Without once abandoning his attack on your neck, he spread your legs apart and his fingers found your clothed clit, circling over it. You let out a loud moan, bucking your hips to silently ask for more. Shoving your panties aside, he pushed a finger inside, making you gasp inwardly and rolled your hips. Abruptly, he plunged a second one in and your body arched backwards, your hands finding the surface of the trunk to prop you from falling. Repeatedly going out and in till knuckle deep and curling to hit the right spots that neared you to release, he watched your beautiful lips spill out soft sighs and silent cries.

"I'm close," you whispered with your brows scrunching up.

And right after you said that, Taeyong stilled his fingers.

Your eyes flew open, panting heavily. "Why you stop?"

With a smirk, he completely withdrew his fingers from your heat and licked them clean. Walking away from you, he opened the driver's door and you realized what he was doing.

"Are you seriously going to leave me hot and bothered like this? Come back and finish what you started!" you shouted as you hopped off the car.

But he shook his head at you, tsking. "Consider it payback for what you did earlier."

Your blood ran cold at his mean game. "Hey! I gave you what you wanted after! I even let you come that time! That's not fair!" you screamed, stomping your feet madly.

He only chuckled in response, loved seeing you desperate for him, and wanted to drag it a little longer for your reaction until-

"If you don't, then I'm gonna go inside and get that waiter to help me release!"

Taeyong froze, his hand gripping the door tightly with his furious eyes on you. Taeyong had noticed the way that waiter subtly eyed you on your way out and refrained from doing anything more when he caught Taeyong giving him a deadly glare. "You wouldn't."

You knew you wouldn't. Not after you met Taeyong. But two could play a game. "You know I would, seeing that I've done it before," you said with a sly smile.

He glared at you for a hot second before slamming his door shut and rounded back to you. Lifting you back onto the trunk, he ripped your legs apart and dove his head in between your legs. His teeth nipped at your folds, and you let out a cry in both pain and pleasure. His tongue dove into your heat, making you gasp and sob at how good it felt as you balled up your hands with his hair. Taeyong gave a few harsh sucks, and within seconds you came on his tongue. You cried out his name and your back arched all the way till it laid flat against the rear window as Taeyong drew out your release. After slurping the last drop of your essence, he pulled back and watched your chest rise and fall slowly back to its normal rate.

"That was mean," you said, referring to his game after catching your breath.

He pulled you down till you were on your feet again, holding you up as your legs refused to stay steady. Your thumb swept across his bottom lip to collect your cum.

"Not meaner than you saying you'd get help from a stranger. Only I get access there. You deserve a punishment,” he said, and his hand flew down to palm his member to life.

You shook your head. "No, I don't. It was your fault for leaving me like that. If anything, you deserve a punishment."

Taeyong liked that and leaned in super close, his hands resting on the car by either sides of your body, trapping you in place. "Oh yeah? What's my punishment, doll?"

You innocently smiled at him and uttered the cruelest thing that his ears had to bear. "You're not getting anything else tonight." With a hard flick of finger at his forehead, he yelped as his hands went up to rub at the burst of pain. Giggling giddily, you dashed off into his car before he'd actually fuck you in the middle of the parking lot.

tag list: @cosmiclatte28 @mel-yjh @johnnysuhisnotmyproblem @kttyongie @chantellsievert

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #taeyong smut #lee taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

Wary Hearts

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: Harvey and Dowling finds out Saul is dating a student and worries about the dynamic in the relationship. So does reader’s friends (OC characters). So, they all decide to follow them hidden by magic but as they watch Saul and reader, they can’t help but be proven wrong. Anonymous

A/N There were a lot of details in the request so I shortened the summary down so as not to give everything away. I hope it’s what you had in mind, my darling anon 💛 Also, I just want to make a disclaimer because I haven’t done that in a while. The reader will always be of age in the fics involving Saul (or any older characters) and the teacher/student relationship is purely fiction 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi

Perhaps if you were more alert, you’d notice the two people following you to the East Wing where you know Saul is waiting for you. There’s really no excuse for you considering you’re a mind fairy and can literally feel their feelings. You’re too caught up with getting to your destination though to notice them. Your powers are focused on reaching out and sensing Saul’s mind. Nothing offers you peace the way he does.

If you were more alert, you might notice the group of fairies watching from a distance as you go to hug Saul but Kiera has used her light magic to hide them from being seen. Both you and Saul remain oblivion to the many people watching your secret date unfold. Farah and Harvey watching worried about the dynamic between a teacher and a student and whether it’s actually real or perhaps a relationship created to benefit one part without the other part knowing. In short, they’re worried about their friend. The scandal of dating a student will be bad enough but what if this was all for show. What if you truly didn’t care for him but instead thought this would be a good way to ensure passing your graduation. Dowling didn’t want to think like that but she couldn’t help herself. Saul was one of her oldest friends and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to make a mistake.

In the other corner, Kiera, Adelaide and Max stood watching for any signs that it was the other way around. They worried that Saul might take advantage of you. Even if you were old enough to make your own decisions, it could still be hard to say no when an older man approached you. They needed to see your relationship first hand to check if they needed to intervene.

Perhaps you would’ve noticed them spotting each other and having a whisper battle as to what they were both doing spying on the two of you. But you were caught up in your conversation with Saul and didn’t notice the world around you. He was talking about a hunt he’d done once going after a Burned One and while you hated knowing the danger he’d put himself in, you really enjoyed listening to his stories. He had this passion in his eyes when he spoke of hunts and missions that you just loved. The exact same way, he loved seeing the spark in your eyes when you got to talking about Earth music. You could talk for hours and only cover the greatest hits of the 90′s. Both of you didn’t really care much for the topics but seeing each other light up with passion meant everything.

“So, I run after Karan yelling for him to stop. But he’s not listening and he almost runs right into the Burned One. I had to drag him back and the Burned One missed him by inches.” Absentmindedly, Saul is playing with the rings on your fingers spinning them around. It’s a habit he’s picked up when he has nothing to occupy his hands with. He feels foreign without a sword in his hand like a fish out of water so you don’t have the heart to move your hands. Besides, you love having him touch you.

“What happened then?” you ask instead of listening in on the conversation happening not even 20 feet away. The two groups agree to an alliance both watching over you to make sure you’re both happy.

“I saved his life. Killed the Burned One,” Saul smirks acting all tough before adding: “I did have the help of five other specialists, but the details aren’t that important.”

“Of course,” you agree with a laugh. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you as he pulls out sandwiches that he definitely didn’t make himself.

“It’s not much but I didn’t really have much warning for this impromptu date, did I?” he teases. You’ve been studying like crazy for the exams and you haven’t been able to settle on dates before the actual date. Today, you’d texted him twenty minutes before the date to let him know that you were going to be there. He’d been more than patient with your school work and you had a suspicion that he actually found it to be a little of a turn on just how serious you took school. There’d been times where the tables had been turned and he had been the one not being able to commit due to meetings and missions. There was a mutual respect for each other’s careers that you really appreciated. You wanted to be able to make your own decisions in life and not worry that he felt threatened by your success or like you had to take a backseat so he could thrive. There was room for both of you and you loved him for that.

“I think it’s perfect,” you say digging into the sandwiches. You spend the evening enjoying each other exchanging kisses every once in a while and never letting go of each other. Either you have your hand on his thigh or he intertwines his fingers with yours. It’s very obvious that your love language is physical touch.

“I finished that book you gave me,” you inform him with a smile. He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I gave it to you a week ago.” You shrug your shoulders thinking back to have you speed-read the book to make sure you had time next to your studies.

“Well, you did promise me something for when I finished it.” You crawl into his lap and kiss the spot right below his ear. You never would’ve done this if you knew that your best friends as well as your teachers were watching, but it’s what they need to see to realise just how madly in love the two of you are.

“I really missed you this week,” you admit continuing your trail of kisses down his jawline and then passing over his lips.

“If this is the way you greet me after a week, we’ll have to do this more often.” You chuckle kissing him once more.

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.” You’re carefully unbuttoning his shirt which seems to be your audience’s cue to leave and quickly. None of them want to see what transpires next. They don’t stay long enough to hear the “I love you’s” said afterwards but seeing the two of you together so naturally and intimate says it all. You really are just two people who fell madly in love with each other.

You don’t hear the discussion once they’re out of earshot regarding what they just witnessed. You don’t hear them admitting that they were definitely wrong to worry something indecent was going on. When they part that night, they’ve all agreed to keep their mouths shut. No one will speak of this until you and Saul decide it’s time to share the news. And when you finally do share it with them, they all act surprised and happy for the two of you. It’s not necessary to say out loud that they’ll never ever admit to their wary hearts when they first found out about you and the worries they had. All they say is congratulations because their best friends are finally happy. They can’t ask for more.

#saul silva imagine #saul silva gif #saul silva blurb #saul silva x reader #saul silva #winx saul #winx saul silva #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #winx saga #fate winx club #winx club #fate winx #fate netflix #fate #ftws blurb #ftws imagine #ftws

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dutchdread · 3 years

Note

In regard to what you said about how what Squall and Rinoa had wasn't necessarily true love because of them being teenagers, why is it that you even consider that Cloud and Tifa had true love when Cloud is technically a teenager too? Why do you say that you wouldn't like Aerith if she had survived and ended up with Cloud? You act as if Aerith ending up with Cloud is a bad thing. If Aerith survives things could've ended up happening differently for Cloud. He could've ended up happier with her.

To answer this question I think it's important to understand the difference between love and lust, I advise reading an earlier article I wrote about this:

"what is love, baby don't hurt me" There are a couple of things to address here. First, I am not sure I ever said that what Tifa and Cloud had at the end of FFVII was "true love". It's something that I think is up for debate, the fact that they haven't spent a lot of time together yet as actual adults makes me sympathetic to the idea that it's not really that far yet. Personally I find that they satisfy the conditions necessary for it to count as love, but you won't hear me pretend it's already at the same level as the love shared between my parents, who've been together for 40 years. Even in love there are degrees, love can always grow stronger, and I have no doubt that in case of Cloud and Tifa, it would. I am not pretending they start out as the ultimate pinnacle of perfect or true love. One of the most telling differences I think between people who support Cloti, and the people who support Clerith, is that the former are simply more in touch with reality. That having been said, like I mentioned earlier, I do think Tifa and Cloud satisfy the conditions of love that I describe in my article, I'll quickly go over why, but before I do, I think it's important to answer your first question first. "If being teenagers precludes Rinoa and Squall from having true love, why doesn't that same logic apply to Tifa and Cloud?" Well, the short answer is that being a teenager does NOT preclude you from loving someone, and I didn't say that it does. My argument is a bit more subtle than that. It's not that teenagers can't feel love, it's that it's very easy for teenagers to mistake infatuation with love. It's important here to distinguish between two different emotions, no one doubts of course that teenagers love, for instance, their parents, but we both understand that that's not exactly what is meant by love in the romantic sense. We also all know that we can be nervous around a boy or a girl that we barely know, and feel physically attracted to them. However, I think that everyone whose ever had more than one relationship in their life knows that that isn't love, it's merely attraction and a physiological response. It doesn't involve the same deep appreciation and closeness of a person that we associate with love. For me personally, the first girlfriend I ever had was someone I actually rather disliked before they suddenly confessed that they were attracted to me. When we were sitting on her couch a while later with her pressed against my arm my heart was beating out of my chest, I was more nervous than I ever had been before in my life and was borderline hyperventilating. But that had nothing to do with her, and all to do with me being a young boy who was about to make out with a cute girl. But that nervousness isn't love, I didn't love that girl, honestly, even while dating her I still didn't even like her that much as a person, and that "nervousness" quickly faded. My heart beating out of my chest...was not love, conversely, when I am with the person I actually do love, my heart is completely at peace. True romantic love I think lies at the intersection of those two emotions, where you long to be with someone physically, not because your heart is beating too fast, but because they're the physical representation of the complete and complex set of characteristics that make up that person. A state where you understand both yourself, and them, and understand that through everything you have become a part of each other. You would not be yourself if they're not there, because a part of you would be missing. The problem with teenagers in love isn't that they can't form the feelings of such a bond, but that they too often think that's what they're feeling when all it is is raging hormones. They think they can never live without each other but they'll have a new sweetheart 2 months later, because it's the nervousness, the beating chest, the excitement, and not the long deep appreciation of who the other person is and what they actually mean to you. They just feel new strong urges and emotions and ascribe meaning to them

when there barely is any. They lack the mutual understanding that sharing time together creates and which is necessary to understand who the other really is, and what that means. They lack the knowledge of the self needed to understand what is important in life and more importantly, what is, or should be, important to YOU and why. They lack the life experience needed to differentiate between love and infatuation, and they lack the wisdom needed make positive choices concerning which feelings to nurture, which often makes them subservient to their emotions rather than guiding them. Love takes time, it takes commitment, it takes understanding, it takes choices and the willingness to sacrifice, those are the things that bind two people together, through thick and thin, as they say. The good, and the bad. In a way, Cloud and Tifa perfectly represent that long slowly developing strength of mutual importance, while Aerith is more like a representation of the temporary hurricane of affection that we often ascribe with something new. This is the reason why Aerith was described by the developers as being like an exchange student who leaves midway through the schoolyear. This is the reason why Cloti is so often described as a "slow burn". The reason Cloud and Tifa are slightly exempt from the "teenagers in love" problem, although it does still factor in, is that their bond didn't start a week before the end of the game. Their bond started when they were kids. Tifa has been an integral part of Clouds life for his entire life, to the point where he decided to join SOLDIER, aka, the army, just in the hopes of getting Tifa to notice him. That is a decision, that is a commitment, that is Cloud tying Tifa into his sense of self ever since he was a boy, he didn't just sit around "wanting" her, he made a decision, to not just "desire her" or be "in love" with her, but an active decision to live his life with her as a central part of it. Those sorts of decisions and action form what you care about and value, what you deem as important, what you see as "you" and your life. Cloud had a type of love for Tifa long before he ever started developing any sexual urges. And Tifa doesn't just fit what he sees as important, he has made her important his entire life. In a way, he's molded himself over time so that the things he treasures, are the things she exhibits. More than that, the entire premise of Clouds character arc is rooted in him finding his true self. I mentioned earlier that a crucial part of love is knowing who you are, and what you treasure and why, and FFVII literally gives us a direct manifestation of Cloud finding himself in the lifestream.....and it's Tifa. There is no question here of whether Cloud knows who he is, what he treasures in a woman, and whether Tifa fits that mold, because Tifa made that mold. Concerning time, Cloud spent over a decade being in love with Tifa, she's not just a part of who he is, but she's such a part of who he is that when he lost her belief in him, he lost faith in himself and who he is. There is no question that these two characters lives are fundamentally emotionally intermingled. Cloud would not be Cloud without Tifa. And the same goes for Tifa, who has always held the image of Cloud close as a sort of representation of what is important. First like an unattainable star in the sky, then as a boy. Cloud is not just someone who has always been important to her, he's also her last link to her childhood, those things form bonds. Tifa is compassionate, and I've always been able to pinpoint the moment where in my opinion Tifa went from having a crush, to displaying true love, and its' the moment where she decides to spend that last days of her life caring for Cloud in a coma. That is not a small decision, and those decisions matter, they're not just telling the world something, they're telling YOURSELF something. When you make such a decision, you cement what is important to you. Through thick and thin. Tifa chose Cloud, she chose to believe in the memories they share together, not of the

memories of the last few weeks, but of the boy who asked her to the water tower all those years ago. Tifa, like Cloud, found herself during FFVII, Tifa knew what she cherished, it wasn't soldier Cloud, it was the Cloud she knew, the REAL Cloud, and her selflessness and conviction is rewarded.

I'd say that pretty much says it all, the groundwork is in place, the only thing needed after that is for a person to CHOOSE to go for it, to not give up, and that's what we get in the events before, during, and after ACC. That the two are willing to sacrifice and work on it, because they know that the other is worth it. And Tifa and Cloud have that as well. When Tifa is feeling down in case of Tifa, Cloud says he'll be there for her, when Cloud is having difficulties in ACC, Tifa never gives up on him. Ultimately Tifa is the glue of this relationship, because she has proven that she will never give up, and that's why her love is real, and why Cloud and Tifa ultimately will succeed as a couple. Cloud and Tifa have a difficult start to their relationship because of factors external to their feelings towards each other, but when you purely look at the basis of their relationship and feelings for each other, it's one of the strongest foundations in fiction. They have to weather a lot of storms together, but the reason the story can throw those storms at them, is that they have the foundation that allows them to handle it and grow stronger. "Why do you say that you wouldn't like Aerith if she had survived and ended up with Cloud?" I don't say that, I say that I don't like the Aerith version that exists in the minds of Clerith, and I don't. What I say specifically about Aerith surviving and ending up with Cloud is that I don't like that story, I think it would be a fundamentally bad story. I do say that I would not like Aerith if she knew the future, or anything really about the relationship between Tifa and Cloud, and still chose to try and get between that. Because setting aside all the shameless "Cloud/Tifa doesn't own Tifa/Cloud, they can do what they want" arguments, we all know that if your friend has someone they've cared about for a long time, and they're hitting in off, and you then try to get between that....you're scum, and I do not want you in my group of friends. I've known people like that, they're not kind. I also say that I wouldn't like that character, which is different from not liking Aerith as a person. A person can be sweet and likable and I can still not like their character if I think that the character is a hindrance to the story. "If Aerith survives things could've ended up happening differently for Cloud. He could've ended up happier with her." And if pigs had wings perhaps they could fly, or perhaps they couldn't. Perhaps had Aerith lived Cloud would have somehow married Scarlet, or perhaps if Aerith had lived Cloud would have been miserable and drank himself to death. I don't care about baseless speculation. Listen, I have no doubt that if Aerith had lived, Cloud would be happier, since it would be one less death on his consciousness, but he'd be happier WITH TIFA, Aerith living or dying has zero impact on who he ends up with and saying "maybe" is absolutely meaningless. Maybe if Aerith had lived, Tifa would have died, and the world would have ended because I don't need to be a fortune teller to predict that if Tifa died, Cloud wouldn't have come back from that. Honestly, saying "perhaps if Aerith had lived he'd be happier with her" is such a blatant attempt at trying to sneak shit past the radar that it honestly bugs me, you can take that implication back to the Clerith boards where dishonest takes live.

#Cloti #FFVII #ffvii remake #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #aerith gainsborough

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moral-turpitudes · 3 years

Text

A Sister’s Intuition:

A/N: The gif has nothing to do with this one. It just made me chuckle cuz this most certainly has fighting.

Also, this is a weird mix of Arthur actually killing the church dude, but instead of Linda trying to shoot him right after like in the show, this story is like the event that causes her to go off the rails and try to shoot him (and fictionally, Y/N lol can you imagine). So this, in my fucked up mind, is the calm before the storm that is the lovely Linda with a gun.

Trigger Warnings: Fighting obviously, Mentions of Blood, Angst, Family Drama?, Cheating, Taunting, Swearing.

Word Count: 2,114

Characters: Shelby Family x Shelby!Sister Reader

Requested: Yes, well it was suggested but still. Long story short I have a bone to pick with my brothers gf and this was cathartic.

Request by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: Linda is being Linda and Y/N can’t stand her messing with her brother Arthur’s head another day. She just snaps. People and their feelings get hurt. Nothing like a nice bloody family dinner at the Shelby-Gray household.

Y/N’s skin crawled as she heard the voice of the woman downstairs. Her heart racing and fists clenching as she heard the half-hearted laughs and forceful exchange of pleasantries that were painstakingly muttered by the rest of the Shelby family.

As she smoothed out her dress, she heard Polly calling for her, surely to help with setting the table for dinner. With shaking hands she opened her door, her eldest brother Arthur’s laugh echoing through the lavish house as she made her way down the stairs.

“Y/N, nice of you to join us.” Thomas said, patting her on the shoulder as she sulked to the kitchen, avoiding Linda’s ever-judgmental gaze.

“I’ll set the table.” She said, Polly nodding at her with an annoyed expression as she glanced out into the dining room. The feeling fortunately seeming mutual.

“How’s the farm treating you brother? Having fun with the baby?” Ada asked, as Karl reached for one of the rolls in the basket Y/N was setting down.

“It’s good, quiet.” He said, his eyes looking tired and emotionless as the years went by.

“Don’t eat too much now, you won’t want dinner sweetheart.” Ada said, giving him a warning glance as Y/N silently set the table, glancing at Arthur’s troubled state. Thomas couldn’t help but notice his youngest sisters rage as she harshly set the silverware down, especially the knives.

It had been two years since the first conflict between her and Linda. The whole thing starting as Linda slowly brainwashed Arthur. No one really noticed at first, how she sunk her claws into him. How he’d stop his excessive use of cocaine, or his anger fueled drunken rampages on a dime. How he’d mess up on missions, putting them at risk. Or how he started asking Linda for permission to go places and her ordering him to be home at certain times when on business. No one noticed that while some of his habits were best left in the past, he was also leaving part of himself. The part of him that she knew and grew up with. The part that smiled and joked. The part that didn’t question himself and his worth on a daily basis. This was how she pulled him in, and he was forever tied to her now. Seeing as their 1 year old sat in his lap, giggly and oblivious to the pressures and expectations he’d be raised on years later whether Arthur wanted him to be or not.

The big blow up between them though, was when Y/N learned she cheated. If she inherited one good thing in life from the Shelby family it was her intuition. Her ability to sense when a person meant harm. Her ability to know when someone was nothing more than a snake. A soul-sucking, venomous snake.

The night she found out, she made sure Arthur was alright, or at least alive, knowing how he could spiral at any given moment. That was one thing about growing up around a dysfunctional family. Knowing when the others needed help, and knowing when to help set others straight. And he had seemed okay, at least until a few days later.

That same week Arthur killed the man she’d cheated on him with, going down a dark spiral as he grappled with his sins. His eyes brimming with tears and hands stained red as he walked into the house unannounced, nearly giving Polly a heart attack.

Y/N remembering how she sat him down and wiped the tears from his eyes and blood from his busted knuckles as he stared at her.

“These are the hands of a devil, Y/N...how can I be saved like this?” He asked through tears.

“Don’t ask how god can save you. Ask how you can save yourself.” She said, wrapping his hands in gauze.

“What?” He asked, confused. The tears streamed down his face as she urged him to drink a glass of water, given he was already in a drunken state.

“You have to save yourself, Arthur. I can’t do it for you. Linda cheated on you yeah? Well it’s not the first time she’s hurt you. No one else can really see it...not even you...but I can...She’s made you into someone you’re not. You may need to slow it on the drinking and drugs, and get your anger in check, but you don’t have to completely ruin yourself over some words in a book or some girl alright? I want my brother back...” She said giving him a strong hug. She wasn’t known for talking much, always preferring to stay in the background and being quiet, but she threw insults and plans around in her head just like Thomas. But when she did say something, people listened.

The day after Arthur attacked Linda’s lover, she decided to meet with her at her house. The rain pouring down as she made her way up the winding dirt roads, her thoughts running through her mind as she reluctantly stepped inside the farmhouse.

“Oh, Y/N. Wasn’t expecting you.” She said, a disgusted look on her face.

“We agreed last night to meet but I guess you didn’t remember. Must’ve been a bit preoccupied I see.” Y/N said, leaning to the side as she saw yet another man walking around the house that wasn’t Arthur. There was a long, awkward silence before she continued.

“I’m just here to warn you that you’ll get what’s coming to you. You don’t fuck with the Shelby family.” She said spitting at her feet.

“You know Y/N? You’re just like the rest of them. No morals...no class...nothing.” She said.

Y/N smirked as she inched closer to her, standing almost eye to eye. With a quick draw of her arm, she landed a harsh slap to her face. Her handprint stinging and bright red as it adorned Linda’s cheek.

“You’re one to talk about morals and class. People like you make me sick.” Y/N spat, walking off as Linda stood there holding her cheek. Her mystery lover nowhere to be seen as he’d retreated back to the bedroom in hiding, most surely thinking Arthur was there.

As she set the final glass down, she was brought out of her horrendous memories by the voice of her brother John.

“Aye Y/N, how’s your training been going with Finn and the guys? Think you could take him out yet?” He said, a mischievous smirk on his face. Linda scowled as she glanced over at Y/N, probably remembering how her face stung after the blow. The event seeming years away due to the hectic business of the blinders and the growing number of kids in the family.

“I highly doubt she could. Even if she grew up with you lot as brothers. Besides, it’s not ladylike. You can’t fight around the children.” Linda said, sipping her tea.

Y/N’s eyes pierced hers as she sat there. Her appetite fading as she got up from the table.

“Y/N...now’s not the time for this. Sit down.” Polly said, pointing at the empty chair between her and Thomas.

“I have no desire to sit with someone I can’t trust. You’ll get what’s coming to you Linda. I swear it on our mums grave.” She said getting up from the table again, this time making it to the kitchen before hearing quick footsteps.

“You said that last time and nothing happened. What are you going to do? All this family does is make empty promises. You’re just a worthless girl with nothing but her families bad manners and filthy blood money...” Linda continued, Y/N zoning out as she unclasped her earrings and threw them on the counter. Her eyes scanning Linda’s movements as she stepped closer, cracking her knuckles. John got up as soon as he heard her bad-mouthing his sister. Finn stood and made his way near her only for John to hold him back with a smirk, knowing this was long over-due.

She didn’t say anything as she swung a left hook, a loud crack sounding through the room as Linda stumbled back. John cheering slightly as she regained her composure.

“I told ya you’d get what’s coming to you.” She said, as Linda lunged forward and went to slap her in the face, but failing as Y/N blocked her hand and twisted causing a scream to erupt from her lying mouth. Blood was dripping from her nose as Arthur and Thomas came in. To her surprise, they didn’t jump in nor did Arthur try to stop her, knowing all too well his once precious Linda was bound to pay somehow. Polly and Ada shielded the children, holding their hands over their eyes as the mini brawl panned out.

“You’re going to hell!” Linda yelled, punching Y/N in the shoulder as she cried.

“I’ve been there already love, it’s quite nice.” She said moving back and raising her arms up to guard her face, looking for an open spot, eventually landing a final blow to Linda’s ribs that left her on the ground gasping for air.

Thomas suddenly grabbed Y/N’s arm and yanked her back. She wasn’t kicking and screaming, but he could see the rage in her eyes. The way his and Arthur’s often looked.

“Enough. Alright? She got the message. Enough.” He said.

“No. No I don’t think she did. Get off me.” She spat, trying to wrestle her way out of her brothers grasp.

Thomas let go so he wouldn’t hurt her, but watched on as she stalked towards Linda and Arthur.

“You can see how you’ve torn this family up right? I can’t speak for everyone, even for the man you’ve hurt, but I can speak for me and I’ll never accept you into this family again. Never. Now get out of my fucking house.” She said lowly, grabbing Linda’s arm harshly as Arthur tried to stop her.

“Y/N I’ll take her, you go cool down.” Arthur said, his hands shaking a bit as he was still torn between the hurt from Linda’s past actions and the love he had for her.

Y/N stood up with her arms crossed, her knuckles bloodied and aching as she stared her brother down.

“Arthur...do you remember what I told you that night? You have to save yourself. She’s going to keep you trapped in those same situations again if you don’t do something. She’ll hurt you if you don’t watch out.” She said, wiping a tear from her cheek as she shoved past her brothers and Polly, the children crying as an awkward silence fell over the house. She sulked back up to her room, cleaning her knuckles and bandaging them the best she could, knowing everyone probably hated her now.

“What was that aye?” Thomas asked.

“Fucking hell Tommy.” She said, jumping slightly at his voice from the doorway.

“I was just doing what no one else wanted to fucking do. Someone had to make her and our idiot brother see reason.” She said, wincing as she tried to wrap the gauze around her knuckles.

Thomas silently came over and helped her, trying to think of something to say as he snipped the last of the white fabric.

“You all hate me I already know. I just couldn’t sit there as she acted like everything was fine. Like she didn’t hurt him multiple times. She’s nothing but trouble and no one fucking understands that.” She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

“He can protect himself...I’m sure he’ll come around. And we don’t hate you. Besides, if I was betting on you that would’ve been the best fight of the year. I know for a fact you can take down Finn.” He said, trying to lighten her mood.

“I already did, he just doesn’t talk about it.” She said giggling and wiping the tears away as she gave him a hug. He sighed as he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“She also had it coming. She said I had no morals...and no class....I just couldn’t let her talk that way about me...and about our family.” She said.

“Aye she did have it coming, I’ll agree on that. But you can’t listen to her. There will always be people who’ll say those things. They just don’t understand us.” He said.

“Well, they should work on that then aye? I guess next time I’ll try not to beat anyone up. I’m not promising anything though.” She said, Thomas chuckling as she broke from the hug and went into her room.

“I’ll see what’s going on down there. You just rest. But uh,,,do me a favor aye?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“If someone does say something, don’t go at them alone. Tell me alright?” He asked.

“Okay...” she said with a sigh, hoping the night could be over with.

“Good, I’ll see you at the family meeting tomorrow then. Bright and early.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh fuck off Tommy...Goodnight.” She said, play-punching his shoulder.

“Goodnight.” He said, putting his cap on and making his way out the door to whatever family chaos awaited him.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x shelby!sister reader #shelby family #shelby family x shelby!sister reader #can u tell I have a lot of pent-up rage?

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acahope311 · 3 years

Text

Silver Lining

Sleepover Request

luna-xial said: So so so I see you have requests open due to your sleepover (also Ohmygosh congratulations!!) and I was wanting to ask if you could do something with Kili for the fluff prompt list, #3??? ❤️❤️ (if not that’s okay, I just wanted to request something because your writing is so good 🥺❤️) (“(She/he/they) don’t compare to you. No one does.”)

A/N Wow! This one is a doozy. I loved writing this, Kili has always been one of my favorite characters, and the prompt lead to so many directions but I chose to do one where angst was not an option🥺 Thank you so much for sending this in @luna-xial and participating in the sleepover 🥰

*I wanted to thank @guardianofrivendell for double-checking my writing and making sure I knew the difference between "pinning" and "pining" LMFAO!*

Warnings: none? I guess self-doubt?

Erebor was bustling. What once was a dormant and abandoned mountain, a reminder of dwarven greed, now symbolized second chances, wealth, and life. Dwarves from the Blue Mountains were flocking to the mountain, some were those who never thought they would live to see the Lonely Mountain rise from the horizon, the rest were ambitious young dwarrows hoping to start anew. Men were also moving back to Dale, revitalizing the growing community in the shadow of the great mountain- of course, King Bard and his family oversaw the restoration of the city and personally welcomed the new arrivals. Whilst similarly in Erebor, Thorin himself rolled up his sleeves and took to reconstructing the home of his forefathers- his Company by his side. Which were quite a sight to see as thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a woman all lifted, chiseled, and swept away rubble, ash, and dirt. Little by little, the fruits of labor began to show and soon the rock-hewn walls seemed to sing the history of the mountain and once the mountain was unearthed, the new dwarves were settled in. You found you had more time to explore the mountain. The grand stone walls of Erebor encased your miniature frame. Funny enough, being a human woman you were head and shoulders taller than most dwarves, but the walls and statues made you shrink. As you quietly made your way through the halls, you’d occasionally run into a group of dwarrow, warm pleasantries were exchanged and small talk was exchanged. Once the mountain was more established and a trade agreement was founded, Thorin had appointed you as a live-in ambassador to Dale and Mirkwood, much to his chagrin. At first living in the mountain had a rocky start, Durin’s folk were always wary of strangers- especially from another race, but once you had proven yourself time and time again, you were welcomed with open arms. However, some still were reluctant to see you as an ally, making it a point to sometimes emphasize your foreignness. Yet you never held it against them but had always put it up to jealousy, for not only were you the woman who accompanied and aided in the quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain alongside Thorin Oakenshield, but you were very close to the Durin princes-- especially Kili. From the moment you and Kili met, the Company knew you were both trouble. Being both the youngest in the group meant mischief that even Fili had to take a step back to make sure you two were not in over your heads. At first, it was all fun and games, but somewhere along the line, you realized that he meant so much more to you than a friend; you loved him. You’d carried this torch with you throughout the whole quest and although you’d hoped it would extinguish, his sunlight smiles, friendly touches, and adoring eyes fanned the flames of your feelings- it didn’t help that he would always make time to end every night in conversation with you. As time went on, even Fili could see your pining and couldn’t help but smile fondly knowing that you and his brother held mutual feelings but were just too blinded by their infatuation for each other to realize the truth.

One day, at the training grounds when you and Fili were free from your duties, the golden prince set his plan into action. As he stood by the side, he seemed to be lost in thought- reliving an earlier conversation he had with his brother.

“Fi, what do I do?” Kili wailed, sitting in front of his brother as he patiently waited for him to comb his hair. Fili sighed, he knew that wail very well.

“Whatever do you mean, brother dear?” He said teasingly while pulling on a particularly tough knot. Resisting the tugs, Kili began to rant.

“You know what I mean. What do I do about y/n? I want to start the courting process, even Uncle thinks it’s a good idea, but I am so lost… I don’t even know if she returns my feelings.” Kili’s head droops a little at the thought of you not loving him the same way. Fili chuckles at his expense, the sound causing Kili to huff in faux indignation. “I’m glad you’re having a good laugh at my expense brother.”

“Forgive me nadad, but that is such a crazy notion. She loves you, I can see it in the way she lights up when you’re in the room, did you know that?” He says as he continues to untangle the knots in his raven hair.

“Truly?” Kili asks with a little more pep in his tone.

“Truly. You’d think Mahal himself walked into the room with the way her eyes brighten.” Fili smiles as he remembers how in an earlier discussion between you and him, your whole demeanor changed the moment his brother came into the room- like a plant being watered after a drought.

“Do not doubt, brother. She loves you fiercely.” With a reassuring pat on Kili’s shoulder, Fili stands and prepares himself for the day.

“But for Mahal’s sake, fix your hair. I’m sure even she wouldn’t want a prince with a rat’s nest for hair. Amad will shave you if you keep that up!” Fili said as he saw Kili ruffle his hard work.

“I know that! But I also know she’ll love me if I am as smooth as a newborn bairn. She said she loved my hair once on the quest, just before we all fell asleep.” He swooned at the memory. “You don’t understand Fi. I think she is the one, MY One. And I want to do right by her.” Kili’s eyes shone with determination. Speechless, Fili stares at his brother. Then laughs a hearty laugh, confusing Kili.

“What’s so funny?!” He asks, a bit embarrassed. Fili wipes the tears away as he controls his breathing.

“Nothing bad, it’s just that… You truly can find the good in anything! It wasn’t but a moment ago that you were wailing about her not loving you and now you’re declaring her your One.” Fili explains, again brushing his little brother’s hair.

“Oh… Brother, I only do that because of her. She always sees the positive side of everything- and I want to be like that to her. But I can’t do this on my own. Will you help me?” Kili asks timidly. Fili stops and looks directly at him,

“Of course.”

The sound of wood splintering brings Fili back to the present. You ended up breaking the wooden pole and looking sheepishly at him. Sighing fondly, he helps you find a replacement. Once a new one has taken its place, you resume your training while Fili observes.

“You know.” Fili inquired, breaking the silence. “You seem to be so skilled with the sword. Have you tried other weapons?” As you attack a wooden post, the question causes you to pause mid-swing. Pondering this, a small flush creeps onto your face. Suddenly shy, you look down.

“I have been wanting to learn how to shoot a bow…” You whisper as a certain dark-haired prince’s visage of letting loose a quiver of arrows flash in your mind. “I’d always admired how Kili could so quickly nock an arrow and aim with such precision in such a short amount of time. All with a smile, did you know that? That cheeky cub.” You said smiling unknowingly.

Fili smirked. “Now, why would you want to learn how to use a bow, y/n?” he asks- already knowing the answer. As you squirm uncomfortably under his questioning, the silence stretches out. After what seems to be a lifetime, you look up and answer with a determined gleam in your eye.

“Because I want to impress Kili.” You say softly, but resolutely. The answer stuns Fili into silence. After a heartbeat of silence, you continue.

“I know I am not of royal or noble descent. Nor am I rich- I’m not even a dwarf! But I do truly love your brother. I cannot offer much but I would like to start by offering the time to get to better understand his favorite weapon.” You pause, unsure whether you should continue, but you push on. “From what I understand, weaponry and skills are an important part of dwarven courtship, and I would like to take that chance… I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Your brother is worth that chance-- and if nothing comes from it, I at least can say that I tried. ” A loving look passes your face, reminding him of the times you all sat around the fire and listened to his brother’s stories- already he knew you had fallen hard. ‘She always sees the positive side of everything’, Kili’s voice resonates in his mind.

“But I am still a novice in this… So I may need your help?” You conclude, less confident than what you meant. Exhaling in relief, Fili smiles and turns around. At first, you are worried that you’d insulted him, but when he returns promptly with a bow and a quiver of arrows, your face breaks into a grin.

“I’d gladly teach you,” Fili says proudly as he hitches his belt. You nod and reach for the bow, but at the last minute, he pulls away.

“But I can think of a better teacher, right brother?” A chuckle resonates from the sidelines behind you. Turning around, you see Kili walking towards you, smiling. He reaches for the bow and arrows from Fili and knocks foreheads softly.

“Thank you.” Fili pulls away and nods, as he moves to the exit he passes by you and winks.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Silently, the golden prince leaves the training area- leaving you alone with Kili. Turning to him, you can't help but notice your heartbeat so fast that you're sure he can hear it. The silence grows as you both stare at each other until he clears his throat

"I know Fili may have said that I'd be a better teacher, but I will be honest… I don't think I am." He confesses as he subconsciously nocks an arrow and pierces the wooden post.

"I learned by example, but I will teach you everything I know and by the end of the day, you'd be the best archer in all of Erebor." He says sweetly. "Well… second best. After me of course." Correcting himself. You gasp at his cheekiness and punch his shoulder playfully.

"Alright, alright. Let's get this lesson started."

Several hours passed, and so had several arrows yet not one hit the target. You were out of breath, your arms shaking so much you could barely lift the bow. Kili looked over you, took in the sight of your sweaty form and shaking arms. He sat on the ground with a thump- the sound surprising you.

"Kili? Are you alright?" You asked worriedly, kneeling down next to him.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, not looking at you. Confused, you take his hand into yours and begin to rub his arm comfortingly.

"What do you mean? No need to apologize, you're a great teacher- I'm just a bad student hahaha!" You joke. However, Kili shakes his head.

"No, I'm a better teacher than this, it's just that I am distracted…" he admits, further confusing you. Kili continues, "I heard what you said with Fili." Shocked, you ask, "How much did you hear…?" You look down, unable to meet his eyes.

"All of it." Your shoulders droop in dismay. Ashamed, you begin to pull away, but his grip tightens.

"You don't need to be anything for me, y/n. I don't need a princess nor do I need a lady- I just need you." Kili's confession snaps your eyes to his.

"You don't mean that." You respond, barely a whisper. Your eyes fall on your lap once again, but Kili tilts your chin up so your eyes stare into his deep brown eyes.

"I do, amrâlimê. With every ounce of my being." He smiles the smile that can make even the darkest nights seem like morning. Still, clouds of doubt linger.

"I came from nothing, Kili… You are a prince, there are so many other dwarrowdams, clothed and draped with gems and gold- I cannot compare to that. You deserve-" Suddenly you're pulled forward and silenced as his lips meet yours. At first, Kili seems hesitant, giving you enough time to pull away, but to his relief, you begin to kiss him back. Your hand reaches up and caresses his cheek, while his free hand pulls you in closer, deepening the kiss. For a moment, the clouds break and all thoughts of doubt leave your mind, replaced by a feeling of wholeness-- as though you had found a half you'd never known you'd lost. Reluctantly, however, you both pull away to breathe but bring your foreheads together, basking in each other's presence- time begins to move again.

"My heart belongs to no one except to you, y/n. You are my One and I love you. Don't worry about them; they cannot compare to you. No one can." He breathes, cupping your face in both his hands. Unbeknownst to you, tears trail down your eyes.

"But-" He kisses you again, softly. Brushing away any second thoughts you'd have.

"No buts. Do you know why they don't compare? It's because, in the end, I know they will only want me for my title and gold. But you?" He wipes your tears away and smiles lovingly at you. "You love me for me. You'd seen me at my highs and lows. Moreover, you always show me the bright side of everything, ghivashel. They can keep their gems and golden gowns. For you are my silver lining." With that, Kili pulls you into a tight hug and all you can do is smile as the clouds of doubt break. Assuring you that come what may, no matter what clouds your thoughts, Kili's love for you is true, and will always show you the bright side- he is your silver lining.

#kili x reader #writing #sleepover #100 followers #fluff prompts #the hobbit #luna-xial #fluff #tiny bit of self-doubt #tolkien #silver lining #thank you

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kodzumie-archived · 3 years

Note

Can l request a yandere kokichi and nagito with a insecure possessive so? Thank you very much

❝HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT❞

Synopsis; What are the yanderes like with an insecure and possessive darling?

Featuring; Kokichi Oma and Nagito Komaeda x GN! Reader

Warning(s); Yandere themes, established relationship, manipulation, emotional abuse, possessiveness, insecure thoughts (reader), sacrilege, worship, implications of stockholm syndome, self-harm (Nagito), blood, slight gore, attempted suicide, and mentions of hospitaliation.

Kodzumie’s Note; Of course you can! Thank you for your request, this was a very interesting concept, and one that I enjoyed writing! Take care, love. Muah! <3

➤ KOKICHI OMA

⤷ He’s cunning; calculating all the ways he can use your weaknesses to his advantage. Truthfully, he’s the reason you have a desperate need to pledge your claim on him. He made you this way; riddled in insecurities, fearing that you’ll never be enough for him.

⤷ The constant malice laced with faux, brutal honesty in his words as he admits that if you get boring, he’ll leave you. In the way he drops such soul-shattering admissions without a care terrified you. Were you that easy to discard?

⤷ And thus spiraled your fogged mind of whether or not what you do is spontaneous enough. Is it enough to be deemed unpreditable? Will it keep him interested? Will he be entertained?

⤷ It’s a cruel, sadistic game that he’s forced your self-assurance to play. Constantly chasing after him as he turns his back to you, threatening you with the shackles of abandonment.

⤷ He’s caged you in a mindset where you cannot rely on trust any longer. Trusting a deceiver would bring you nothing but heartbreak; you’ve had to bear this lesson far too many times to relive it once more. Trust—in this corrupted love—was a vice.

⤷ So you took it into your cold, dead hands to carry the burden of ensuring that your lover remains. Wary glances of where he runs off to, heart worrying away over who he could possibly be with at that very moment. Who has he deemed worthy of his invaluable time now?

⤷ You fret over any and all possibilities. Perhaps he finds someone more deserving of his time, leaving you for them in the blink of an eye. Or perhaps he simply grows tired of you, your existence proving to be far too predictable and not suitable to his adrenaline-crazed tastes.

⤷ In every moment, you fixate on the where his eyes flicker when he’s with you. It’s taunting, the distraught of catching him looking at someone else. Someone other than you.

⤷ And he knows this. He’s more than aware of how worriedly you follow his gazes, hoping not to find another person they’re directed towards. It’s a realization he plans to use to the fullest, caving in whatever sense of self-esteem you had that maybe—just maybe—he only had eyes for you.

⤷ But having faith in such a deceitful individual was a mistake you’ve made far too many times. Even now as you follow Kokichi’s eyes to settle upon a figure.

⤷ Your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach, an unruly pang piercing your conviction with the tendrils of a distorted reality; he’s gazing upon someone else.

⤷ That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you—

⤷ “Kokichi, what are you looking at?” You cut the suffocating silence. Your breaths uneven as the functioning of your lungs felt labored. Throat contracting in anxiety, you swore you wouldn’t be able to hear his—inevitably deleterious—reply over the deafening pulsating of your heart.

⤷ “Just someone.” He mutters. But you see it, you notice what you prayed was merely an illusory of your culminated fears; he wouldn’t take his eyes off them. Not even as he replied to you. Not even as you tightened the grip on your intertwined hands. He wouldn’t stop looking at them.

⤷ In that moment, you could only describe it as the relentless tearing of your fragile heart. The desire to be his faithful partner in which such devotion is reciprocated is tattered with disdain.

⤷ You’re replacable. In what you believed were the earnest eyes of Kokichi Oma, you were to be repudiated.

⤷ As your eyes tear up and you begin to drag your boyfriend away, successfully garnering his attention away from that supposed stranger at long last, your blurred vision and hasty steps led you to miss the deviously depraved grin of his that was far too sinisterly crooked.

⤷ Your reactions, your blind fury and innermost apprehensions were so amusing; so comically enthralling. It’s no wonder he promises the two of you are sworn lovers; you never cease to stun him.

⤷ Once you two have reached a somewhat secluded area and far enough from the previous scene in which your heart ached to think about, you turned to Kokichi with such a catastrophic sheen of betrayal yet interlaced with the poison of envisage. You had expected this, hadn’t you?

⤷ “Why?” The words hang in the tense air as you peer down at the ground below, unable to meet his eyes in which—to your expectancy—darkened with the tainting of rejection; rejection of you.

⤷ This was a game that seemed far too easy for the cunning boy. It was as though you’d granted him the key to your mind, allowing him to feverishly jeopardize your self-reverence.

⤷ “What do you mean?” It’s a simple question; a plead of elaboration. But Kokichi knows all-too-well what plagued root pollute his intentions. He wants to see you break. And it seems like he’ll be getting exactly what he wants.

⤷ “What do I mean? Kokichi, what do I mean?!” You sharply inhale, your breathing sporadic as tears spill from your eyes.

⤷ “Stop playing dumb for once! Just tell me, just say it to my face, Kokichi! Are you tired of me?!” It’s a shout that tears your throat raw, emotion seeping into each word, woven with the most intricate of desperation.

⤷ He sees how you’re beginning to lose yourself; losing your self-respect as you claw at all that he’s formulated to define you. It’s as he’d planned, you need him.

⤷ And it should’ve ended the moment he’d realized how far gone your independence has been muddled upon his taxing gambling upon your mind. But he didn’t. It was far too amusing to stop now. Your desperation for his affections to be for you—solely for you—were addictive, and he wanted more of it.

⤷ So, as he cradled you, drawing you closer and inviting you to seek comfort within his bodily warmth, he suppresses a wicked cackle.

⤷ Whispering promises that you were still the one whom held his heart captive; you, you, you! And as pitifully naïve as you are, you decide to believe in him once more.

⤷ Perhaps you’d never believed him, and rather seeked out an excuse that brought the most comfort to you. Attempting to piece together your fragmented self-assurance, you depended on the contentment of his promises. Even if they were nothing more than the lies you’ve come to confide in.

➤ NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ A sworn worshipper; Nagito will go to the ends of the Earth to prove his devotion to his darling. His heart belongs solely to you, interlocked between the weaving of your hypnotic web as he hails you.

⤷ He believes with the entirety of his worthless being that you are a divinity; a detiy amongst purposeless nobodies that serve as nothing more than your stepping stone. But he believes you are merciful.

⤷ After all, if you had not been so graciously charitable, you’d have no associated with a low-life such as himself. Much less, willingly put yourself in a relationship with him.

⤷ It’s a blissful thought; to think that he could mean something to someone. To have some sort of negligible value.

⤷ But it’s one that he cannot take to heart. His worth lies on whether or not he can serve you—his darling deity—to the best of his lousy ability. He’ll happily dedicate his life to you.

⤷ Far-too-gone in the abyss of infatuation, Nagito finds himself unable to properly comprehend how someone so ethereal—someone so celestial—couldn’t see their blinding eminence.

⤷ He genuinely believed the notion of insecurity was foreign to you; a vulnerability that the emobodiment of all that is heavenly shouldn’t identify with. And yet he is forced to acknowledge that his lover—his one true hope—is unbearably familiar with such a plagued enigma.

⤷ Your sporadic hues narrowing at those who meet eyes with Nagito. The common practice of smiles directed towards strangers irked you; they were smiling at Nagito. Was he familiar with them? How was their smile comparable to yours? Could it rival yours, the one he claimed to encapsulate his heart?

⤷ An inkling of doubt resided within you whenever another was involved with your boyfriend. You understood full-well how much he loved you, but love is as empowering as it is contagious.

⤷ You know that these fears are nothing more than that; a drop of blood in which dirties the pure waters of reassurance. You’re aware your reactions are exaggerated, a carciture in comparison to the situation. But then why did he bother to smile back?

⤷ The thought resides within the back of your consciousness as you ponder over it. Certainly, it was no big deal. But why did it spur such an ache within your heart? Why do you feel the insuppressible urge to vacate the vicinity right within that moment?

⤷ It hurt to think. A torment so grand at the miniscule possibility that-that mutual exchange of smiles meant something more. Was it possible for Nagito—who pledges full allegiance with you as his faultless god—to fall through the clutches of your claim?

⤷ He devoted himself to you, that much you were sure of. Upon your first true meeting, he terrified you to your very core. You insisted that there was something wrong with him; something sickeningly distorted within his fogged mind of fixation.

⤷ But over time, after the relentless admissions that he wants nothing more than to serve you; worship you; love you; you’d eased into his proclomations. His depravity, albeit sinister and channeled with great fault, was out of his love for you; his pure loyalty and devotion.

⤷ So why had you continued to doubt him? He told you himself, didn’t he? He loves you more than anyone else could, more than anyone else could ever be capable of. And despite this, he still admits to viewing himself as mere scum, unworthy of your love but whose purpose is to worship and hail you.

⤷ Could it be that he’d ever seek out someone he’d believe himself to be worthy of association? Would he truly leave you for someone he deemed, too, as lowly as him?

⤷ Your thoughts have riddled themself until there’s a gaping hole within your heart��a cavity that’s sunk itself deep within the caverns of your gravitated love—and within his home that you two enter, hand-in-hand, you allow your visage to crack.

⤷ One sob after another, your knees give out from beneath you, harshly meeting with the wooden floorboards.

⤷ The sound startling Nagito as he turns to you with concern evident within the stitch of his brows. Instantaneously, he drops to where you were seated on the floor, weeping away as sobs scratched your throat raw.

⤷ “My love, what’s wrong?” He questions. His heart thumping within his ears as he cradles you, swaying your bodies ever-so-slowly in order to soothe you. Thus your crying turned erratic as you clutched against the fabric of his jacket.

⤷ He holds you so gently, he embraces you with such a warmth pooling from his heart. Did you really have any right to doubt him?

⤷ Yet it spurs such pain as the flashing of his reciprocated smile loops within your mind. Over and over, eating away at your self-restraint as you blubber; Did that smile mean anything?

⤷ He pauses, attempting to register your words. But they’re far too vague for him to properly process, and he pulls away from the embrace to face you with a perplexed countenance.

⤷ “Y-You smiled at that one person a-and—and...I just felt—“ Before you could continue, a sob escaped between your quivering lips. Your throat ripped dry as you began to question why you were crying so hard.

⤷ But before you could continue, Nagito pulled away from the embrace completely. Unfortunately, putting the worst possible conclusion within your mind as your break down was amplified.

⤷ Why did he move away? Why, why, why, why, why? Is this it? Have you finally wrung out your time with him? Is it finally over?

⤷ Though your momentary doubt was put to a halt as Nagito presses his hands against his chest, gesturing towards himself, frantically.

⤷ His eyes dilated with depravity interlaced by the seams of desperation. His lips curled into a crooked grin as his breathing came out in sporadic huffs.

⤷ “No, no, no, no, no! My beloved hope, this is just a misunderstanding.” He confesses. His hands visibly shaking as he seems to tremble from the possibility that his darling deity would ever be put under such pain from his incompetence to outwardly convey his true, unhindered love.

⤷ “I’m merely scum beneath the soles of your shoes, I’ve caused this minsinterpretation due to my ignorance. I shouldn’t even weild the right to say, my beloved, please forgive me.” He rambled. With each word, his breathing was becoming more prominent to you. It’s heavy; panicked; furious.

⤷ “I promise to you, I am solely yours. Your stepping stone towards renouncing the world of its despair. Your follower even through the flames of societial Hell. I am yours, and only yours.” His hand move to grab a hold of yours, but he quickly shrinks back in disgust at his audaciousness. How dare he grab at the hands of such divinity?

⤷ And thus, he reels his hands back and clutches his throat. His nails digging into the supple skin as he releases a breathy chuckle. His eyes blown open with a sheen of insanity, you find yourself thrust into the fear you’d experience upon first meeting him; when his luck had been particularly bad that day, and you caught him situation outside your bedroom window.

⤷ His erratic, turbulent temper terrified you. The way he dug his fingers further into his throat, clawing at the skin until the salmon-tinted lines began to trickle with deep, crimson. His pale skin stained with his own blood as he kept tearing at his throat.

⤷ “I deserve the worst of punishments for enforcing such despair upon you! Being killed within a millenial of lifetimes could never be enough to repent for the sins that the trash that I am has committed!” He shouts. You gasp, fearing for his wellbeing as he continuously attempts to pry the skin of his throat open; an inevitable suicide if he continued.

⤷ “Stop! Nagito, stop!” You scream, tears blurrying your vision considerably. Yet as his figure turned to abtract forms of color, you could still make out the sickeningly red blobs. He was bleeding, he was bleeding so much.

⤷ Prying his blood-stained hands from his throat that—if he’d continued—would’ve been torn to shreds. Your breathing loud and hiccuped, whilst his is mellow and nearly inaudible. It must hurt to breathe.

⤷ “Why? Why, why, why, why?!” You question, fear woven into your eyes as you tighten your grip on his wrists for reassurance; the assurance that he won’t proceed to try and kill himself.

⤷ He smiled, though as he attempted to speak, he coughed up remanence of what he’d inflicted; blood mixed with his saliva as he attempted to regulate his breathing.

⤷ He needed to go to a hospital and he needs to go now. But as you attempted to carry him to the front door, your phone in hand dialing an ambulance, Nagito presses his thumb against the end call button.

⤷ You face him with a panicked and agitataed expression. Is he truly hellbent on dying? All because of the conveyance of your insecurities?

⤷ “Don’t...Can’t.” He voices. Though it’s so hoarse and mangled that you could barely understand his words. But with a bit of thinking, you find yourself deducing a reason behind his rejection of professional aid.

⤷ Even if you got him to a hospital, you’d inevitably have to explain what’d occurred. And informing them of his attempted suicide would surely have him hospitalized for much longer or even transfered to a clinic. Nagito always told you that any moment spent without you is the eye of true despair.

⤷ Why had you doubted him? Why couldn’t you suppress yourself? His pain, his injury, it was all your fault. You know he devoted himself to you and through extremes such as this.

⤷ You flung his arm over your shoulder, carefully treading towards the living room as you set him down upon the couch, ready to fetch the first-aid kit.

⤷ You can fix this. You can make up for your mistakes, and help him. This is your fault, all your fault! But you can still fix it, right? You can still make it right, yeah? It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.

⤷ As you laid him down on the coach, his throat now barely trickling as he winces from the pain, he gazes up at you with such sincerity you find yourself in tears once again. “I love you, and I would happily die for you. I’m sorry for what my worthless self has caused you.”

⤷ His words force you into a state of fear. How could he speak of his death so easily? It unnerved you, yet you consistently reminded yourself that he wouldn’t die. The wounds are shallow, thankfully. He would live.

⤷ But that doesn’t alleviate the guilt as you choke back a sob, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips before pulling away. The tears from your eyes cascading and rolling onto his cheek, a now painful intimacy. Never agin would you allow yourself to succumb to the clutches of your insecurity. “I love you too. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

#yay! double upload today! <3 #yandere #tw yandere #sdr2 x reader #dr2 x reader #ndrv3 x reader #drv3 x reader #kokichi x reader #kokichi oma x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #danganronpa x reader #kokichi headcanons #kokichi imagines #nagito hcs #danganronpa hcs #danganronpa scenarios

235 notes · View notes

paradise-creator · 3 years

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Amorette's song:

An royal Au! Ushijima x reader. You, are his queen but he knew you were only a dream, a wish. But dreams and wishes are meant to come true.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2.1k

Ushijima knew what was to come of his dream. His dream that one day you would be his queen as you both rule Shiritorizawa. The dream that he wished will come true. They say that reams are impossible, like how wishes are so far out your reach. But he was determined to make you his queen, his lover, and his one and only. That was a bold statement coming from the 13 year old prince. He knew that it will never come true. You, the sophisticated, the amazing, and wonderful princess of your kingdom. He knew that you will never be his queen, you were 3 years older, after all. That age gap, isn’t big nor is the relationship entirely impossible. But, as the crowned princess, Ushijima knew that you would be married off. That you would be in another’s arms. That you weren’t his.

“Ushi,” Your voice echoed in his ears. “Yes?” He responded as he looked up from his book. His eyes laid on your relaxed figure. To him you were so perfect, a goddess reincarnated. You inspire him to be the best king he could be to his people. You were his inspiration, his drive to be better for his people. You had such a huge impact in his life that everyone can see how he adored you. As he peered your gaze, he realized how sad they look. The shin in your eye, dead. The smile on your lips didn’t reach your eyes. He immediately knew something was wrong. “Is there something wrong?” He then added as he placed his book down and sat beside you. He would stop anything just to make you happy. You were the queen of his heart after all.

“I’m being married off to a prince. A prince, I know nothing off,” You responded as you looked at him. As those words left your lips, his dreams and heart shattered. But he wasn’t surprised, it is to be expected. His eyes widen, his heart shattered but he remained stoic. “As heirs, we fulfill our duties as rulers of our kingdoms,” He then said as he looked away, not wanting to see how sad your eyes look. You were his weakness and he can’t bare the sad look on your face. “At least I know that I taught you something,” You then said as you patted his head. You stood up and glance at him before leaving. That was all you wanted to do, you wanted to give him space, knowing that he needs time to digest it. You knew that this would impact the both of you greatly. But as the crown princess, it’s duties before your heart. That is what no fairy tale tell its readers. And ever since that moment, you two tried to spend as much time together. From frolicking in the garden to reading together. You both made more memories that will hopefully help the growing emoty space.

But that was 5 years ago. 5 years of him yearning to see you again, to hear your voice. 5 years of having an empty space in his heart. A void only you can fill. The two of you did was exchanged letters, but he wanted to see you, wanted to see if you are okay. He had heard that your supposed groom, had an affair and the whole thing was cancelled. But, he still wasn’t able to see you. You haven’t contacted him in 3 years. He has grown wary and depressed. Why is life so unfair sometimes? But that is the world we live in. He thought he would never get to see you again. But here you were, in front of him, talking to your old friends. Where have you been these 5 years? And now, of all places, he was able to see you. Kuroo wasn’t wrong when he said he will invite everyone.

“Pardon me,” He then said to Daichi, who was talking to him a while ago. Daichi saw where Ushijima was looking and chuckled. The smaller king knew who she was. The supposed future queen of Shiritorizawa, as he was acquainted with. “I wish you luck, my friend,” He then said before he left the taller to go to you. Daichi knew that this king wouldn’t let you go, no matter how hard he tried. All the blackette could do is wish his friend luck. Ushijima took a deep breath and started to walk towards you. Which the other girls had notice, and nudged you a bit. “Pardon my intrusion, my ladies,” He then said with a bow once he had reach where you were. “It’s no bother, your majesty. We were about to leave anyway,” your friends said as they left you alone. You were still the beauty goddess you once were. But you’ve grown more mature and look so gorgeous that Ushijima can’t help but blush.

“Ushi, honey, you’ve grown so much,” You said as you placed your hand on his cheek. His blush darkened as he looked away. Your touch, it’s something that he longed for. Your voice, your honey like voice. He missed how you sounded and how you talked. Whether gentle and soft or rough and oud, he loved it. As he turned back to you, his eyes had the same look on them ever since he was younger. A look of adoration and love, something that had always been with him. When it’s about you, all he can think about is how he loves you. Your so called imperfections is all perfect to him. You were a goddess to him. You were perfect to him. “It’s been 5 years, Nee-chan. Of course, I have grown,” He said as he leaned into your touch. “5 years? It really has been that long,” You then said as you retracted your hand. But, Ushijima grabbed you hand gently and intertwined with his. “What happened to you?” He then asked as he looked at you. “You stopped sending me letters 3 years ago,” He said softly. His eyes pleading you to explain your disappearance.

You chuckled and shook your head. “I needed a break from the spot light,” You then said as you adjusted your crown. “After that affair incident, I ruled over my kingdom in peace. And I didn’t want to bother you anymore so I stopped. Not knowing whether or not you wanted to talk to me,” You added. “I’m happy that your kingdom is in great condition but I would never grow tired of you. Never,” He then said as he looked at you. There was an awkward silence that fell between the two of you. It’s been 3 years since the last you two talked and 5 years since the two of you have seen each other face-to-face. Ushijima cleared his throat and let go of your hand. He then stood in front of you and bowed. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a more secluded place?” He then said as he offered his hand. You smiled and accepted his offer. He interlaced your hands and started to lead the both of you to a secluded area. The twist and turns of the crowd seem never ending. But soon enough, you both reached an open balcony.

“This is better, isn’t it?” Ushijima said as he led on the railing, with you by his side. He looked at you and he was mesmerized. You, you looked so good in your dress. The color complimented your skin and your body type. You look ravishing. Your accessories and make-up brought out the most defining features. Everything he had learned to love. His heart beat quickened and his cheeks flushed. Even after 5 years, his heart still belongs to you. He waited and waited for you, and now that you are in front of him. He just can’t believe his eyes, you grew so much.

Not only with looks but as a person as well. He can see how you matured as a person. You seem more at peace. You seem more mature than what you were then. “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You said as you looked at him. His cheeks turned red and he cleared his throat. A phrase he never thought he would here. The moon is beautiful, isn’t it? Another way to confess love. Especially popular under the moon light in his kingdom. “Pardon, what was that?” He asked as he started at your eyes. “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You then repeated as you held his hand. “I can die happy,” He responded as he smiled softly. A reply that completes the phrase. “H-how long had you liked me?” He asked shyly. “Ever since we were younger,” You then said as you looked up to the moon. “I knew you liked me and it was mutual but as crowned princess I knew I had to fulfill my duties. So I kept it a secret,” You added.

“You’ve been hiding it all this time?” He asked as he cupped your cheek. “If you would’ve told me sooner, I would’ve fight for your hand,” He said as he kissed your forehead. He wanted you to know that he won’t stop waiting and loving you. He wants to fight for you, showing you that he is the one for you. “That’s what I didn’t want to happen,” You said. “If you did fight for my hand, it might lead to war, which is counter-productive,” You added.

“Nevermind that, Can I finally call you my queen?” He asked as he hugged you. “I want the world to know that my heart belongs to you,” He added. The moonlight shone on you two as if you both were the main characters. The fairy tales you’ve read can’t fully describe what the princess felt when she met her one true prince. The way that both of your hearts beat in synch and the fluttering feeling. The tales can’t grasp the way he held you. He held you tight as if he were to let go, you would run away. Yet, he also held you as if you were made of porcelain, one wrong move and you’ll break. The fairy tales were right, once you find your true love, doubts and troubles seem to fade away.

“Of course, I’m yours and yours alone,” You said as you looked at him. He slowly leaned in and kissed you softly. With his soft lips on yours eyes flutter shut. You both held each other and savor the feeling. It felt as if time had slowed down. The way his hands wrapped around you protectively. The way your lips danced with his. It all felt surreal, something out of the tales you grew to love. As the music played in the background, you and he felt the dreamlike feeling of being in a fairy tale. It felt like forever when the kiss ended, cliché as it sounds, it feels so true. As you both stared to each other’s eyes, a familiar music came right along.

The intro for “This is Love” from the movie Cinderella. Ushijima smiled and offered his hand. “Shall we dance?” He asked. You accepted this offer and grabbed his hand. He placed your free hand on his shoulder and his on your waist. He then started guiding you to the rhythm. Contrary to the music, you both danced in a slightly faster pace, like in the movie. Your dress swayed, back and forth. He pulled you close, still managing to lead the dance, like a prince should. You felt like Cinderella and he was your prince charming. As you both dance within the area of the balcony, the moon’s light and the stars blessed the earth with their beauty. The song continues on but that wasn’t the only thing you heard. The whispers of the wind, the soft songs of the creature, and the chatter from the hall. But, all that didn’t matter to you. All you can focus on was the words that left Ushijima’s lips.

“You are my world,”

“You are my dream, my queen,”

“I love you, so much,”

“I dearly hope this moment would last just a bit longer,”

Ushijima spoke phrases and words that makes your heart pound. His words and this scene etched into your heart as the song continues. Once the song ended, you both were in the dead center of the balcony. Staring at his olive orbs, you know that this is where you belonged. He was your home, your sanctuary. “And I’ll love you always and eternally,” He then said as he pecked your lips. Even a simple action like that, it sent shivers down your spine. This is what Ushijima had dreamt about. You, in his arms, secured and safe. You, his future queen. It’s everything he could ever hope and asked for.

Dreams are a wish your heart makes. No matter how your heart is grieving. If you keep on believing, dreams that are wish, will come true.

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