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obsessedelusional · 7 months

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Internets Favorite Fangirl

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x Fem!Reader

summary ✦ You are the internets most famous fangirl. You were a famous actor with no shame in thirsting over celebrities. So naturally you’re very public about your love with Pedro Pascal. Only to switch up when watching TLOU, fancying Bella. What happens when you show up to an award show they’re both attending? poorly proofread

word count ✦ 3,700ish

authors note ✦ hey sorry I’ve been mia I missed all y’all and want to start posting again anyways here’s a bellaxreader I wrote several months ago lmao im gonna post a few bella things I’ve been working on and even venture into tlou ((Abby Anderson is the love of my FUCKING LIFE)) ily bye

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

It had become a reoccurring theme in your press interviews to be asked who your recent celebrity crush was. It started when you landed your first big movie. Shortly after the release in a chance to find out more about you fans search the internet for any crumb they could find. Someone found an old Harry Styles fan page you had when you were a teen. You were absolutely mortified by the stuff they were finding. Deleting it wouldn’t undo it so you learned to embrace it. Quickly becoming the internets most famous fan girl.

Making TikTok’s and tweets thirsting after unattainable celebrities. The whole internet eating it up and thirsting along with you. Your most recent viral moment was a TikTok you made featuring the infamous dvcree Pedro Pascal edit. Your face green screened over the original with a caption talking about this singular edit has taken over your for you page and you were enjoying every second of it.

With the upcoming release of the anticipated second movie to your most popular role you were busy doing press work. Sometimes by yourself but mostly with the rest of the cast. Today you were invited to do an google auto complete video with you male costar, Johnathan, who plays your love interest.

The first board asking where your from, then your age, and other basic questions. The next board is handed to you all the google searches begin with ‘who’.

“Who is y/n?” You read aloud laughing as you read.

“I am. That’s me. I act sometimes but mostly embarrass myself on the internet.” You costar laughs agreeing with the last half of your statement.

“Who is y/n dating?”

“I wish I had some juicy gossip to share but I’m as single as it gets.”

“Who is y/n’s celebrity crush?” You sit there and think, your smile grows bigger when it comes to your mind.

“Oh this one’s easy. I know.” Jonathan says.

“Who?”

“Pedro Pascal.”

“Pssssh that was so last week.” Jonathan audibly gasps.

“Who then?”

“We’ll it’s actually his fault.”

“Who’s fault?”

“Pedro’s.”

“Please explain.” Jonathan says confused.

“Well I’m late on the train but I just binged watch The Last of Us. I was the last of us to watch it.” You laugh at your own joke, Jonathan doesn’t only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Anyways I started watching it for Pedro but stayed for Bella Ramsey.”

“Bella? The one who played Ellie?” Jonathan asks, his face telling you he doesn’t get it.

“Yeah them. You may not understand but the girls will get it.” You respond.

“Okay you heard it here first y/n is single and wants Bella Ramsey. My turn.” He says as he reaches for his board to read off the questions directed at him.

—

A few days pass before the video is released. Your publicist notify you it’s out and you don’t dare watch it, just pray that you didn’t do anything to embarrassing this time. It doesn’t take long before your notifications are flooded with people talking about the interview. You read a few before realizing a theme, Bella.

Everyone is tagging Bella in clips of you gushing over her. An edit of you saying the girls will get it followed by edited clips of Bella to the beat of a song. You may have watched it one too many times before favoriting it. Just as you about to close TikTok you get an Instagram notification from a verified account. It’s Bella following you, you click the notification not believing for a second it’s real.

But it is.

—

Two weeks ago Bella had made the first move by following you on Instagram. The internet went crazy when they realized quickly shipping the two of you. No one realizing that was the extent of your relationship, mutually following each other on instagram. It had crossed your mind at least a hundred times, you had drafted plenty first messages. Always deleting your words before you could muster up the courage to press send.

Tonight no different, you were in the process of preparing for a movie and tv awards show. In your dressing room being pampered by your glam squad. Clicking away at your phone looking for any sign that Bella was going to be here tonight. If they were you’d have no choice by to say hello. Cursing yourself because if only you had messaged Bella beforehand this would be less awkward.

A knock at your door steals your attention and your crew stops what there doing. The door opens revealing your manager, the biggest grin on her face. Something was up.

“We have a surprise for you.” She sings with a soft smile.

“So finish what your doing and meet us in room A3.” She says before shutting the door. You ask your team if they know what’s happening but they all answer with a shrug of the shoulders.

—

“Why are there cameras?” You ask as your guided to room A3. The door is shut, your mind races wondering what it could possibly be. Everyone around you is looking suspiciously excited for what’s about to happen. Your instructed to open the door so you do so, peaking your head in as it creeps open.

With nothing more than your head in the room, you peek around into the darkness. Blinded momentarily when the light turns on from inside. Blinking as an attempt to get your sight back your greeted by none other than Pedro Pascal.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You spit following with a squeal as you shut the door. Leaving Pedro alone in the room with whoever else in there. He erupts into laughter, a sound you had heard many times online.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” You turn around ready to run greeted by the camera shoved in your face. Realizing you have no choice in this matter. With a nervous breakdown around the corner you open the door. Peaking your head once again making eye contact with Pedro.

“I’m sorry.” You say too afraid to approach already had made a fool of yourself.

“Don’t be.” Pedro laughs, calming your nerves temporarily.

“Hi.” Is all you can manage to spit out.

“Hi honey,” he smiles and waves, making you melt. The two of your still stood a few feet apart. You’re looking him up and down and moving your gaze onto your manger who’s sat in the corner motioning you to get closer.

“You can come closer. I don’t bite.. I mean unless…” His voice trails off and turns into laughter. You laugh before closing the gap, hugging Pedro. After you pose next to Pedro as photos are taken. His arm rests on your shoulder. You look up at the man next to you he’s already looking down at you.

“I was so excited to meet you a few weeks ago.”

“How long have you guys been planning this?” You ask.

“A little over a month.” Your manager answers.

“Yeah then you had to go and switch up on me.” He sighs dramatically, letting his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did-“

“Don’t act so innocent Y/N. Don’t think I didn’t hear about your new found love for Bella.” Your eyes go wide realizing what he’s talking about.

“They better not pop up out of nowhere. I can’t handle two surprises today.”

“See exactly it’s like I don’t even matter to you anymore.” Pedro whines face falling.

“You do matter but…” You start to go on about Bella but stop your self.

“But what?” Pedro must notice your the worry in your face because he takes it back.

“I��m just giving you a hard time.” He teases.

—

“It really was nice meeting you.” You say your goodbyes but decide to follow it up with an apology for your actions when you were surprised. The cameras were gone now.

“Don’t worry about it. If anything I should be worried. Bella’s not gonna be happy with me.” Your ears perk up at the mention of Bella not being happy.

“Why?”

“I’ve said to much.” He attempts to change the conversation.

“Wait you can’t just say that and pretend like you didn’t.” He let’s out a defeated sigh in response.

“Bella has not shut up about you in weeks. I tried to convince them to tag along but they refused. Which turned into a whole thing. Bella made me promise several times not to embarrass them.” Pedro rambles on before stopping face full of regret.

“I won’t say anything if you won’t.” You respond.

“Deal.”

Maybe you don’t plan on repeating the words that had come out of Pedro’s mouth but they surely lit the fire in your self to finally message Bella or maybe even say hello if you saw them tonight. Your rushed to finish getting ready before being instructed to walk the carpet. Taking pictures first and then stopping to do mini interviews.

Your in the middle of the red carpet where your stood answering questions for some publication. When you hear the crowd and paparazzi roar. Bella is stood next to Pedro, they’re holding hands. Pedro giving his full attention to the cameras while Bella is sneaking glances at you. In front of the camera still and the interviewer waiting for an answer you smile one last time, waving softly before going back to answering. Your whole demeanor changing from the subtle interaction with Bella, suddenly a little more smiley than before.

Eventually you’re seated at table, you say your hellos to the few people sitting with you. The seats next to you empty, so you take a peek at the name tags on table. Pedro is suppose to be sat right next to and Bella next to him. You don’t have time to process it because you hear the voice of the man who’s suppose to be sitting next to you. You turn around and he’s busy talking, no sign of Bella. You face forward in your seat, pulling out your phone to distract yourself.

“Told I’m sitting next to you but I don’t want to.” Pedro says from behind you. You smile politely kind of confused watching as he changes Bella’s name place with his. Sitting down where Bella was suppose to be. He sports the biggest grin as you realizing what he’s doing. He whispers you’re welcome before averting his attention else where.

Within seconds your planning your escape but it doesn’t matter because the familiar British accent fills your ears as they chat up some other people at a nearby table. If you left now it’d be too obvious, so you sit there painfully waiting for Bella to sit right next to you. A few long minutes pass before you fill the seat being pulled out and someone sitting down. You look over and smile, making eye contact with Bella who’s a few inches away.

“Hi.” Bella says with a shy smile.

“Hi.” You say back, barely a whisper.

“This is kinda crazy. I’ve never been to an event this big. Especially in America, this is on a whole other level.” Bella explains, staring a conversation.

“Oh yeah you’re probably far from home. Where do you live?” You ask, you already know the answer but Bella doesn’t need to know all that.

“The UK.” Bella responds.

“Oh damn. I’ve had to make that trip a few times. Absolute hell.” You say causing Bella to laugh lightly.

“Yeah kinda. Getting used to it after so many times. It’s usually worth it.”

“Well I hope this time is worth it.” You respond, you haven’t stopped smiling since Bella sat down.

“It already is.” Bella teases, their tone a bit flirty causing you to temporarily malfunction unable to come up with a response. Thank god some camera man comes by asking Pedro and Bella to take some pictures before the show starts.

As soon as Bella’s attention isn’t on you anymore your aggressively messaging your best friend, freaking the fuck out. As you’re typing some one grabs you hand, trying to get you to stand up. It’s Pedro and he’s begging for a photo with you. You happily oblige standing up but Pedro has a plan, posing you next to Bella. He takes a few photos with the two of you before stepping out of the way. Your unsure what to do but without notice Bella arm is around your waist. Pulling you a little closer, you smile for the picture and then look to Bella who’s already looking at you causing you to smile even bigger than before.

—

You two spend the beginning of the award show chatting in between breaks and sneaking glances at each other. Pedro constantly giving you looks, letting you know he’s happy with what’s happening. About half way though the show, a member of the shows staff comes to grab you and Pedro. Apparently the two of you presenting a reward.

You were not prepared for this in the slightest but it’s not the first time, you’ll be fine. You keep telling yourself that. It’s your time to go out, Pedro follows closely behind. You smile as everyone starts to cheer, when your finally to the podium Pedro begins reading off the teleprompter. You can’t help but cringe as the words as they come out, praying that it’s not too obvious.

“Today we’re here to present the award for break out actress.” Pedro says.

“Yeah… it’s been so amazing watching these nominees make their dreams come true.” You say through gritted teeth.

“With enough hard work and dedication, your dreams are possible. Just like her dreams.” He laughs, pointing to you.

“What do you mean Pedro?” You read off, sounding entirely out of touch with the words coming out. Confused where this could possibly going.

“Your hard work at being a fangirl, has finally paid off. You got to meet me. The man of your dreams.” Pedro can barley finish, laughing harder than he should be. Stopping every other word to laugh or catch his breath from laughing so hard. You don’t have any words being prompted at you, so you laugh and agree. Being shut up by the sound of your own voice being blasted from behind you.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You hear and followed by the sound of a door being slammed. You turn around in horror seeing yourself, on the biggest screen freaking out about meeting Pedro.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” Plays on the screen, your curse words being bleeped. This is more embarrassing than anything you could’ve imagined that they had planned for this footage. You watch in full disgust too afraid to face the crowd of thousands. You hear them laughing at every stupid thing that leaves your mouth in the video, adding to your embarrassment.

When the video finally ends, Pedro gives you a hug. Saying something about how it’s okay in your ear but you’re far too gone from the moment to understand him. You turn to the face the crowd, the actor in your turning on.

“Well that was embarrassing.” You laugh.

“It’s okay, everyone loved it.” Pedro responds.

“Yeah everyone but me. Anyways, the nominees are…” You say as at attempt to make this end sooner. The nominees play in the background as you avoid eye contact with everyone in the crowd, just kinda looking off in the distance. Especially Bella because you two were hitting it off so we’ll and now the whole room, including Bella, just watched Pedro talk about your new found love for them.

Pedro starts ripping at an envelope letting you know it’s time to announce. The both of you read of the winner and start clapping. When the winner gets to the stage, you hug them before moving out of the way. Listening intently as they give their speech. It’s finally time to leave and you waste absolutely no time getting off that stage. Once backstage your overwhelmed by the sheer amount of good jobs and laughs at what just happened to you. Your manger tells you that was perfect.

“No more suprises please that was horrible.” You mutter, embarrassed and ready for the night to be over. Your manager apologizes. You make the walk back to the table, being stopped several times on the way. When you finally see your seat, Bella sees you. They flash a smile at you as you sit down. Pedro following close behind.

“That was something.” Bella says teasingly.

“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry.” You say not finding it funny.

“Why are you apologizing?” They ask, face full of concern.

“Because I opened my big mouth and dragged you into this.”

“I don’t mind. I actually kinda enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?” You ask, your sour mood suddenly disappearing.

“Who wouldn’t enjoy one of the most beautiful and talented actors out there publicly simping for them?” Bella says, bringing your smile back.

“Beautiful?”

“Mhmm and talented.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night talking whenever you can. Pedro often inserting himself, neither of you minding. When it finally ends you can’t help but feel sad. Wishing the night could some how continue. You say your goodbyes, hugging Pedro. Then hugging Bella, a little longer than the hug with Pedro.

“It was nice meeting you.” You say as you pull away.

“You too.” Bella smiles as you walk away, your manager hounding you to get back to the dressing room so you can leave.

“How long are you in town?” You ask.

“I actually have to get on a plane back tomorrow afternoon.” Bella responds, sadness apparent in their voice.

“Oh well, shit that sucks.”

“What do you normally do after an award show?” Bella asks.

“Normally I get some terrible fast food and rot in bed until I fall asleep.” You respond honestly.

“I could go for some terrible fast food..” Bella says, with a hint of hope you’d understand what they were trying to say.

“I’d love it if you joined me.” You say, blush appearing. You make plans with Bella, letting them know you’d have to go to dressing room and unglam yourself. Bella understands following you to the dressing room, waiting for you outside of it. Eventually you come out in sweats, hair tied up and no more makeup.

“We’ll now I feel overdressed.” Bella teases, noticing your causal attire.

“You can borrow some clothes at mine.” You say, not realizing that you’re unofficially inviting Bella over to your home. Bella nods yes, biggest smile plastered on their face as they follow you out of the venue.

—

An hour later, Bella and you are laid up in bed. Tummy’s full watching some bad reality show. Doesn’t matter because you two can’t stop talking, not paying much attention to the tv. The conversation flows naturally, never missing a beat. Little did you know the internet was actively loosing their shit over all the content of the two of you tonight. Unaware of all of it, neither of you feeling any need to check your phones.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you tonight.” You say when the conversation starts to lull.

“Me too. I’ve been wanting to message you for weeks but I was absolutely terrified.” Bella admits.

“Me too. I was scared shitless when I realized you were sitting next to me. I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself.” You say, looking at Bella who suddenly seems way closer than before. Tension between the two of you is heavy.

“Not at all.” Bella reassures you for what feels like the hundredth time.

“You sure? Because I still can’t believe-“ Your words are cut off by Bella kissing you softly, pulling away quickly.

“I like you. Okay? Please don’t fret over it.” Bella laughs, your laid there in shock. The biggest stupidest grin on your face.

“I like you too.” You whisper barley audible cause you’re quick with pressing your lips to Bella’s. This kid lasting a lot longer than the first.

—

The next morning, you two sleep in after staying up late. Only giving you two an hour before Bella has to get on the plane. You offer to drive Bella to their hotel, so they can pack and end up dropping them off at the airport too. Saying goodbye with a sweet kiss and plans to see each other in the near future.

You get into your car and pull out of the airport. A whole mix of emotions. Happy because of the prospects of a relationship with Bella but also sadness because Bella lives so far away. If the two of you do end up making it official, it’ll be long distance. The short drive home is spent in silence trying to figure out of the feelings your currently experiencing all at once. When you pull into your garage, your phone goes off its Bella.

Bella: thank you for last night, had so much fun and I can’t wait to see you again

You: is it stupid that I kinda miss you already?

Bella: I miss you too xxx

You catch yourself smiling so hard at your phone. Before you can respond Bella messages you again letting you know that their getting on the plane, they’ll message you as soon as they can. You shoot a short sweet message back and close the messages app.

You start opening your social media apps and your mentions are flooded with Bella and you at the award show. Hundred of photos from the event. People taking notice of the way you two were looking at each other. Then photos of you two leaving together. Most recently blurry photos of you off someones phone, outside of the airport saying goodbye to Bella.

“That was fast.” You groan aloud to yourself. Everyone is assuming the two of you are dating and you can’t blame them. You have a dozen unread messages from family, friends and people on your team.

A notification lets you know Pedro tagged you in a story. You click it and it’s the blurry photo of you kissing Bella outside the airport, with text that says ‘you’re welcome’. He tagged you and Bella in it. You can’t stop the laugh that leaves your mouth. Praying that Bella has knowledge of all this and isn’t blindsided when they get off the plane.

#Bella Ramsey #bella ramsey imagine #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey fluff #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey x y/n

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totally-not-here-for-the-smut · 7 months

Note

Saw you did some hc’s for edging and overstimulation! If you don’t mind, could I request maybe the m6 edging/overstimulating the MC too? Ty!

Late edit: " Write as spicy as you want, and I mainly like Julian and Asra! "

Of course you can ask! So, here's something more specific about the MC being edged/overstimulated :)

Silly post decided to be published before it was ready (nope: I accidentally put it on programmed instead of drafts. I do this to be sure to never delete a request by mistake). I'm writing them right now! So sorry for the inconvenience ^^"

Overstimulation and Edging Vol.2

♤♤♤

Tw: domination, crying, public, group

Considering how Julian is a big fan of quickies, for you being edged is a daily occurrence. He takes every occasion he can get with you, and between him being pretty quick and having so little time, you often get so close to coming without actually having an orgasm. Julian's shoulders and neck are covered in small half moons where you planted your nails into his skin out of frustration each time you felt him sliding out of you before you could have your release. You hate and love when, out in public, he kisses lightly your fingers telling you "Later, my love... later", acting as he didn't just came inside you minutes before, leaving you unsatisfied.

It's a game between you two, and he expecially loves how rough you become at night when he's had fun with you the whole day without giving you the time to come. Those nights you fall asleep on his drained and bruised chest, with him caressing your head in pure, exhausted bliss.

Asra loves to mess with you. Sometimes, when you're making love, he suddenly stops and gets up as you're about to come, and announces in that soft and kind voice of his that you don't deserve to come since you haven't been a good enough apprentice that day. The contrast between his tone and his words leaves you always speechless. But it doesn't end there: he will tease you again and again, touching and kissing you to bring you again on the verge of the orgasm, and then leaving you again. Every time you beg him to let you come, he smiles at you and brushes your hair away from your strained face. He has a box of marbles, and he moves one into his pocket each time you beg him for an orgasm.

It's often late at night when you're woken up by his light kisses on your back and neck and caresses all over your body. Without a single word he's inside you, having you moaning with pleasure, touching you until you come in an explosion of pleasure. It's only at that point that you realize he put a certain number of marbles in you hand, just as he removes one... before going back to kiss you, touch you, stretch you, ignoring your complaining of being too sensible. You begged him so many times to let you come, before... now, he'll listen to each and every pray.

Nadia loves to overstimulate you. Her lingering touch is a sweet torture on you, and so you wriggle and twist in the bed as she pacefully reads a book, with one of her steady hands firmly placed between your legs.

Edging you it's more a mental thing, though. She keeps flirting with you when you're not alone, and her hand casually ends up on your inner thight under the table. It drives you crazy and leaves you wanting for more and ready to burst.

She loves when you're in the carriage together. She jokes that it's one of the only times when she enjoys to knee in front of someone. With your clothes pulled up and her head between you legs, she gets you to almost came... casually, right before you have to get down the carriage.

Lucio loves having you begging and crying into his bed. Some days he wakes up rather demanding, and he wants to see you come again and again, as if he wants your moans to be his soundtrack for the day. He starts fucking you himself, and when he gets tired of fucking you he has someone doing it for him as he watches and listens. Sometimes he has you and your partner in the next rooms, and solves his duties as he listens at your desperate orgasms on the other side of the wall. When you meet him again at night, you're exhausted and sensible... the count thinks that is a great time to have you come again with him inside you before going to sleep.

Other days, he wants to be selfish. He fucks you as he pleases, without touching you or bothering to make you come. It's frustrating, but you love it. He literally wants you to get off the bed and on your knees, begging him for one little orgasm... he's a magnanimous lord and grants your wishes, but not before taking advantage of your such inviting position.

106 notes · View notes

creationfathers · 2 months

Note

“I know for sure is laughing at your delusion while he's fucking his girlfriend.And now your mad because his fans are going to make sure you never get near him again.”

“No he doesn't love you. He loves the person he's actually in a relationship with. Who I am sure hides away to avoid your toxicity.”

People leaving comments like this really need to stop. This is not helping. This will never help. This will just send her spiraling further like she just has. She’s deleted the posts these comments were on now and just doubled down on her posts.

And this one, this person pretending to be Misha is especially bad.

“nowiburnyoutoash

These people made me aware you were in Atlanta with videos of everything from you broadcasting your hotel address, room number, and key code with an invitation to join you to the meltdown you had when you found out about the silent retreat on the other side of the country. Speckled with lude and lascivious behavior on your balcony and in front of your child, disgusting racist behavior, laughable "thirst traps" and having to beg for food from the same people you're so racist toward. I had people from the picnic you crashed send me pictures of you, Amber, while you drank their wine, ate their food, and let them entertain your child. The fans are the people I had to talk out of going over to that hotel or meeting you in that park and beating your ass. You should be nicer to them, not gaslight them, and pray I can defuse every situation you put yourself in harm's way.”

If these people truly know all they were saying they do on his posts and I’m not going to put people through every single comment containing way too much personal information that we shouldn’t know. If they truly know these things then they are also being very creepy. You don’t dig into his personal life and post it on a stalker’s instagram account. What’s worse is they all know this isn’t the right thing to do. People have told them in follow up comments and gotten ignored or blocked for it.

Don’t do this guys. This isn’t helping Misha or anyone he’s with, or his kids, or the rest of his family. This is only making it worse and unless you are truly stupid you know that. Stop caring about the attention this may bring you and internet fame and start truly caring about people’s safety. Stop this.

Those people are going to be the cause of Misha seriously getting hurt. Do better, people

0 notes

kairakeiji · 2 years

Text

this is dangerous.

iwaizumi knows this, he knows this better than anyone at this point. no matter how much he wished to, no matter how much oikawa lectured him to do so, he couldn’t stay away from you. he tried, he really did, unfollowing you on all your socials, deleting your number, avoiding places he knew he would find you.

yet fate continues to pull you together.

it’s been weeks since you’ve seen each other, and the last time you did, your supposed goodbyes didn’t tide over too well. he still remembers it, when you and iwaizumi saw each other at the airport, one heading for argentina and one just leaving. (oikawa tried to time it so you wouldn’t see each other because he knows how bad it might be for iwaizumi, yet he still failed). he shudders just thinking about the way he foolishly asked you to catch up later, and the way you told him you had a flight to catch almost jokingly. it’s like you’re dodging his question, almost unsure of what you want, not giving him the answer he wants to hear.

but god he doesn’t care, your hesitancy continues to give him false hope.

he prays to never see you again after that, hopes that you don’t keep unknowingly leading him on by a single thread. yet when he sees you at his local coffee shop in the bitter hours of the morning, he stays put. he gets in line and pretends everything’s normal, despite the fact that everything’s screaming at him to turn around and come back another time.

because iwaizumi feels everything he’s ever felt towards you come rushing back the second you meet his gaze.

it’s mostly love, happy emotions, happy memories he just wishes he could forget. but somewhere in there, there’s sadness, disappointment in how you two left things during your break up, regret in the way he caved and spoke to you every time he saw you again. it served as a reminder almost, a reminder of the feelings and emotions he’ll have to suffer through if he doesn’t break this cycle.

but even then, he approaches you with hope, hope that this time will be different from the last.

“nice seeing you here,” he tells you after he orders.

“at six in the morning?” you yawn.

he can’t help but laugh, “why are you awake? you never wake up this early.”

he’s right, you don’t and you can’t help the memory that flashes in your head. it’s ten in the morning, haji- iwaizumi just got home from his morning run and you have breakfast ready for him. he’d kiss your temple good morning and you’d swat him away because he’s all sweaty only to kiss him in happiness when he shows you the coffee he bought from the coffee shop ten minutes away.

you’ve been avoiding that place ever since you broke up, it brings back too many good memories you want to forget.

but you can’t, because it’s iwaizumi, it’s hard to forget someone like him.

“i have an early morning meeting,” you tell him. “we’ve got a big launch in our company today and a celebration party tonight.”

“sounds nice,” he hums. “congrats on the launch by the way.”

and you smile because even though you broke up, he continued to remain nice to you, “thanks.” you look up at him, and god you wish you didn’t. “what about you?” you question. “you’re one to wake up early, but did work call you in too?”

he nods, “the uniform gave it away didn’t it?”

and you smile looking at japan’s flag sewn into his shirt, “japan’s national volleyball team,” you hum. “how exciting.”

“it’s not super exciting,” he tells you. “i’m just the trainer.”

“but you get to work with olympians,” you gush with a smile, and even after all these years iwaizumi’s heart races on seeing it. “isn’t that cool?”

“i guess,” he mumbles as the two of you grab your respective coffee cups, “they’re all idiots though.”

“really?” you scoff before taking a sip of your coffee, both of you walking out of the shop. “i feel like some of them would be all smart and strategic.”

“oh they are,” he agrees. “but other than that, they’re stupid.”

you laugh, and god he misses it so much.

the two of you stand outside the coffee shop, almost as if you’re unwilling to say goodbye to each other.

“they share a collective brain cell,” he tells you rather monotonously.

“really?” you smile.

“really,” he answers. “i used to play some of them in high school, and they’re still so similar to how they were back then.”

“how so?” you ask.

“remember the ginger from karasuno?”

your eyes widen, “of course i do, the one who jumps really high and stuff?”

iwaizumi nods, “he’s on the team with his setter again. the two still argue as they did back in high school. actually, a lot of them bicker all the time, it’s weird.”

you can’t help but laugh at his words. “well at least they have someone like you to take care of them,” you reassure.

he raises a brow, “what do you mean?”

the distance between you two slowly shrinks, neither of you noticing it.

“i mean you’re reliable and sweet and kind,” you shrug, “i’m certain they’re grateful to have you.”

and your words bring a smile to iwaizumi’s face as he almost instinctively shuffles closer.

god, he wants to kiss you.

and by the way, you’re looking at him, he knows you do too.

“should we be doing this?” you mumble, in the small space between your lips.

“i’m not sure,” he answers, voice barely above a whisper.

“i’m not either,” you murmur.

yet you kiss him anyway.

his free hand cups your cheek, and he can taste the coffee on your lips. it’s all so familiar. everything comes back to him, the memories of your old relationship rushing back. he misses it, he misses the memories and the routines, he misses when you were a part of his life. he missed waking up to you, he missed the movie nights, and the breakfasts you’d make. he missed the way your eyes light up when you got excited over something, he missed the way your kisses always caught him off guard. he missed this.

he missed you.

it’s been years since he called you his, but iwaizumi’s still in love with you.

you meet his gaze as he pulls away, your eyes searching for answers.

but iwaizumi gives them to you before you answer.

“i miss you,” there’s almost no hesitation in his voice. “i’ve missed you all this time.” yet even with the certainty in his voice, there’s fear in his eyes, anxiousness that he’s laying everything on the line just to get absolutely rejected. “yn i still lo-”

you don’t let him finish.

instead, you let your actions do the talking,

and iwaizumi can’t help but smile when your lips find his once more. it’s almost as if he finds all his answers in your kiss. he doesn’t want to let go, he doesn’t want to pull away just yet, he’s too busy making up for lost time.

you pull away with a grin on your face, “so i’ve got this event tonight.”

and iwaizumi smiles, “i’m aware.”

“and it just so happens i’m in need of a plus one,” you tell him.

“i’d love it if you’d come with me.”

his smile grows wider as he nods, “i’d love to.”

i love himmm sobs

thanks for reading! reblogs are always appreciated <33

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missblissy · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I want some pain so the Hurt/comfort post, about Alastor x reader with 1, 2, 4, 12??

((Of course Nonny!! Sorry for such a wait!! I've got a lot of these to work on lol. REMEMBER!! REQUEST ARE CLOSED RIGHT NOW, EVERYONE!! IF YOU SEND ONE IN I WILL NOT DO IT! I've had a few other people send some in and I'm sorry to say I have to delete them. I do not have any more room to take any more prompt requests. Thank you everyone for understanding! NOW.... Enjoy the Modern!AU Angst >:D))

1: “We need to stop the bleeding – now!” 2: “I hate to see you hurt like this.” 4: “I want to help you, so please let me.” 12: “You’re normally the tough guy. Today, let me be tough for the both of us.”

Something about today had felt off. Ever since you woke up, it just felt... not right. As if your mind already knew what was going to happen before it actually did. But no one can really know that for sure. That's why it's called a gut feeling. And that feeling told you that today... You might just die.

You've tasted blood before. But for some reason this time it tasted sweet, rather than bitter, and full of iron. There wasn't much for you to focus on other than the lights from the ceiling flickering over your head. You faintly heard a doctor screaming, "We need to stop the bleeding! BP is dropping- Let's go! Now!"

How did you end up here again, violently broken and bleeding out? Oh, that's right... You were driving home after work. It was another late shift during the dead hours of the night. Drunk drivers were often out during these hours of the night. One just so happened to hit you, and now you're here in a hospital.

You just wanted to go home and sleep. You wanted to lay beside your husband and not have to worry about anything. That was not your case, however. And instead, you tried your best to speak. A nurse who was pushing you along the gurney said, "It's alright, we'll help you, you're safe now." But all you wanted to do was ask about your husband. For someone to tell him what was going on. You were sure he was at home, sleeping soundly and without a clue what had happened.

And Alastor wouldn't find out until the next morning. He'd wake up to several missed calls from dozens of people and some he didn't even know. This man didn't even get dressed. He ran out of the house still in his pajamas and floored it to the hospital. Along the way there, Alastor would throw a massive fit. He'd smash his hands on the steering wheel, beating himself up over not getting there sooner.

He'd curse and swear and honestly drive like a maniac. Every red light he got caught at only made him angrier with the world. His tires would spin and shoot smoke the second the light flickered green and off he rushed again.

Luckily, you were out of surgery long before Alastor got to the hospital. A nurse walked him to your room, and he found himself staring at a sight he'd never imagine. You were broken beyond belief. The nurse gave Alastor a sorry look, "Everything's stable, for now," The nurse said, "But...." She shook her head, "It was one of the worse car accidents we've ever seen. We did everything we could-"

"Coma..." Alastor said the single word, "Induced or?" The nurse shook her head.

"Brain damage, though there is still plenty of brain activity," That was good to hear. It meant you weren't brain dead... yet. The nurse gave him a sorry look, then with a nod of her head, she left him there. Alastor slowly walked into your room and closed the door behind him. He even turned all the blinds so no one could see in the little windows from the hallways. Everything felt wrong.

He stood at your bedside. Taking in everything. The tubes, the machines, the wires. Almost immediately he felt his eyes burn with the threat of tears. And when he placed a hand on your cheek he couldn't stop the waves of them rushing down his face.

The sheer pain of the situation made Alastor sob like a child for the first time in his adult life. He sat down beside you and grabbed your hand, "Dammit..." He squeezed tightly, "Dammit!" He let out a little shout and brought your hand to his cheek, "I hate this-" He let out a small cry, "I hate to see you like this, my poor dear-"

He couldn't stop the waves of tears sobbing from his eyes. He'd never let himself cry like this before, but he felt like if he didn't cry, he wouldn't have the chance to later. With anger, he ran a hand over his face, aggressively wiping his tears. He threw his glasses off his face and they clinked to the floor. Alastor's fingers ringed into his hair as he let out another sob and pushed his bangs out of his face. He had completely lost all of his composure. Every part of him was breaking down.

Alastor sat down in the chair by your bedside and buried his head in one of his hands. With his other hand, he still held firm to yours. His fingers dug into your skin as let out another sob, "Please-" He hiccuped, "Please...!" He looked up at your unconscious face with watery dark eyes, "Please be okay," He whispered the words out quickly as he brought your hand to his lips, "Please let me help you-" He spoke the words against your skin, "I want to help you- Please let me... Just!" He paused for another quick sob, "Please just give me a sign your still in there..."

He was never a man to pray to any kind of god. He didn't believe there was one, to begin with. But Alastor found himself praying, hoping that anything would happen. He couldn't lose you, and certainly not like this. You never sign any DNR papers or made it clear to your doctors that you didn't want to be resuscitated. But you did tell Alastor if there ever came a day that you needed machines to keep you alive, you had asked him to pull the plug.

With the weight of what was once just a silly conversation that had now come true, Alastor found himself drowning in misery. He rested his head on the back of your hand as sat in his chair. He looked at his glasses on the ground as tears splattered around them, "I don't want to kill you," He whispered with a cry, "I don't want to unplug you if there is a chance you'll come out of this."

The stone-cold silence lasted only a second between the beats of your heart monitor. A beep, then silence. Another beep, then silence again. Alastor found himself swelling with rage and anger, but mostly sadness. He shook his head slowly as he stared at the ground. This can't be happening... He thought This has to be a dream... This-

Something sounded off. The beeps were getting... faster? Alastor looked up and stared at the monitors. He didn't understand any of them, there were so many, but something was happening. He watched numbers flicker and change when suddenly he felt a tug at his hand.

You didn't make a sound or hardly move but you're squeezed his hand. Alastor had never been so hopeful for something so small. He shot out of his chair with enough force to tip it over behind him.

"Darling!?" Alastor firmly gripped your hand and leaned over you. He let his free hand brush your hair out of your face as he asked, "Darling, please, for the love of god- Can you hear me?"

He waited, and waited some more. Suddenly her felt your hand squeeze him again while he searched your face for any signs, "oh my god-" He whispered to himself as he watched your face twitch with pain before your eyes flickered open. With lightning speed Alastor ran to the door of your room and swung it open, "Someone get a nurse!" He shouted into the hallway, "Please!" He ignored most of the odd stares he was getting.

It wasn't a second later that a small team of nurses rushed in to check on you. You had certainly woken up and the tubes down your throat were not comfortable at all. The intubation tubes were removed, along with the feeding tubes, while others updated your stats. Alastor waited nervously in the corner of the room as he watched a team of people work over you. He felt so helpless that he couldn't watch for long. He'd leave the room and wait in the hallway, trying his best to ignore the painful coughs and groans as tubes were pulled out of your throat.

When the nurses left, Alastor quickly went back into the room and to your side. You had only just started breathing on your own again. It was much harder to breathe than ever before, but you still managed. You were still groggy, swore, and very much in pain. Despite this, you still let the smallest and weakest smile crawl along your lips, "Hey..." Was the first thing you said to your husband.

You watched as Alastor's eyes flickered all over your form. From the casts, the pins, the cuts, and bruises. He searched your face for serval minutes than began a weak laugh that sounded similar to a cry, "H-hey..." He said with a long sigh, he even tried to wear a smile that just didn't sit right on his face.

"Al..." You raised a weak and tired hand to his face. He immediately pressed his cheek into the palm of your hand and shook his head, "I'm sorry," You said. But you had nothing to be sorry for, you didn't cause this or intend for it to happen.

He couldn't say anything, Alastor was too caught up with his feelings. You watched him break down all over again as if he was still living with the fear that you might die, "Hey- hey," You raised your hand slightly and made him look at you, "I'm alright," It was hard to see him so broken down like this, "I'm okay, I'm here." You reassured him, "I'm not going anywhere."

Alastor shook his head quickly as if he didn't want to bother you with his feelings. He sucked in a quick gasp for air then sobbed out, "I'm not strong enough to deal with something like this- Ever-.... I can't lose you." He said quickly.

You couldn't really scoot over but thankfully the bed was rather large. You gave Alastor's arm a tug and he quickly climb in and curled up beside you. He was careful to stay clear of any broken bones as he made himself comfortable.

You stared at the ceiling while Alastor shut his eyes and buried himself into the crook of your neck, you used your free hand to comb his hair despite the pain it caused you to move, "That's alright," You finally told him, "No one is strong enough to deal with something like this. You're normally so tough and good at hiding your emotions. But you don't have to do that. I'm alive, I lived, I can be tough enough for the both of us, even if it's just for today."

Alastor curled himself as close as he could beside you. He wanted nothing more than to hide and forget about this day, he knew how impossible that was but he still wanted it. You could feel his tears running from his face and onto your skin. He couldn't stop crying when normally he never cried. He didn't even cry at his mother's funeral. Even though you were the one in the car accident, somehow you felt that Alastor was in the most pain.

"Please don't ever leave me," His voice was raspy and broken as he spoke against the skin of your neck.

With a sad and sorry look on your face, you did your best to pull him closer and wrap your arm around him. You pressed your forehead against his and you felt a set of tears drop from your eyes. You did your best to smile as you spoke, "I won't," You promised, "I'll never leave you, I'll always be here."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor / reader #alastor / you #reader insert #x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #human!alastor #human!reader #modern!au #angst #angsty #not fluffy #not cute

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

Note

(This isn’t a request or anything so you can delete this if you want 👍🏽)

Free Jade Brainrot Pass!! ✨

*inhales deeply*

WELL, YOU ASKED FOR IT--

Recently I’ve been reading Spy x Family, so that’s what inspired this AU rot. (It’s about an elite spy husband, an assassin wife, and an adopted mind reader daughter that form a fake family to uphold their respective missions, all while hiding their identities from one another. IT’S REALLY CUTE 🥰 Can’t wait for the anime to come out in spring~)

The Writing Raven Rots.

Every customer to enter the Lord & Tailors did not exit without scrutiny—not that any of them would notice.

Jade had a knack for these things: observing his targets and using the information he gleaned to his advantage. To put on a smile and a good show, the perfect face. To play the part others wanted to see.

And, at that moment, he was nothing more than a fellow client of the tailor’s shop. A young man cross-legged, reading the news while waiting for his suit to be finished.

Jade made as he were fanning out his papers, smoothing over a crease, to read the words printed on them properly. In reality, he used those moments to sneak glances at the new person who had wandered in—signaled by the tinkling of bells—and to the counter.

A young woman, looking rather worried, with a bushy frock draped over her arms. Angled bangs. Her hair, dark and long, curled into springy ringlets at the ends. Dressed in almost entirely white and outlined in gold, clouded in a shawl and with a lace headband.

But her eyes were the brightest thing about her.

“Raven! Welcome back, dear. What can I do for you today?” the scrawny (ghost) tailor asked, addressing the short woman.

“Hello!! Um...” She blushed, nervously unfolding and presenting her dress. Its fluffy, cream-colored skirt was marred by a dark blotch and an ugly tear running ragged and diagonally across the fabric. “I accidentally spilled some ink on this while writing... and then I tried scrubbing it off, but I must have tried too hard, because the dress tore...”

“Oh, you silly goose! You need to be more delicate with tulle. It tears so easily.” The ghost shook his head. “I suppose you need me to fix this up for you, then?”

“Yes, please!” Raven bowed her head. “I was invited to a social gathering by my friends, and it’s urgent that I have something nice to wear to it.”

“A matchmaking shindig, is it?” The tailor wiggled his brows, looking rather silly.

“Wha... H-How did you know?”

“Your gal pals were in the other day. Couldn’t stop gossiping up and down and all around about how you were still single at your age, lass. Talked loudly about finding ya ‘the one’ somehow.”

“... Please forget that you heard all of that.”

“I understand, I understand. I’ll get started on repairs right away, since it’s an easy patch-up,” he nodded, accepting the ruined garment, “but I’m afraid I can’t help you with the stain. That’s not in my job description or in the services I offer.”

“Oh...” She deflated for a moment, but clenched her fists and attempted to perk back up. “That’s okay! I can try to scrub the ink out delicately this time, just as you said to.”

“Alright, let’s pray to the Great Seven that I don’t see you back shortly after that attempt. It’ll be done in about half an hour.” The ghost bowed his head and vanished along with her damaged frock.

“Thank you!” Raven cried after him.

“... Isopropyl rubbing alcohol.”

“Huh?” She tensed, craning her head toward the intrusive voice--to the man seated with his newspaper.

“Isopropyl rubbing alcohol,” Jade repeated, standing and tucking his paper under an arm. “Spray a bit of that on the stain, and it should make it easier to remove than if you used only plain soap and water.”

“Ah.” Raven froze like a deer in the headlights, staring at the stranger at his full height.

He had a good look at her face now. Like the rest of her, it was tiny and dainty. She was almost pixie-like with her pinched pink mouth and pointed ears. Her eyes were large yet soft, holding a twinkle of innocence and curiosity amid a deep hue of honey and amber.

But though she was small and scared, she held her ground.

... A tad jumpy, but she’ll do.

“Pardon me, miss.” Jade’s tone deepened with sympathy. He removed his hat and held it to his chest. “I realize I must have given you somewhat of a startle, speaking to you out of the blue as I did. My sincerest apologies. Allow me to make amends with a proper introduction.

“I am Dr. Jade Leech. I work as a psychiatrist at the general hospital down the road. I do, however, also know a fair bit regarding homecare and housework, so I assure you that my advice is sound.”

“O-Oh, it’s nice to meet you, doctor!” She stammered, fumbling with her words as she dropped into another polite bow. “I’m Raven Crowley. Just a freelance writer, ahahah... And thank you for the helpful tip. I’ll try it for myself when I get home.”

“I’m glad to be of service, Miss Crowley.” He offered a pleasant smile, which made her rigid shoulders relax and her cheeks color. “You said you are a writer? May I ask what it is that you pen?”

“Just little things here and there! They’re mainly fantastical stories of magic and love, that sort of thing. A bit old-fashioned, but I very much enjoy writing of fairy tale princesses. They wear gowns with intricate patterns and shiny beading and jewelry... but they’re still powerful, and they save the day in the end. It’s not nearly as impressive as practicing medicine.”

“I beg to differ.” Jade chuckled, his laughter like a faint song. “Many of the children at the hospital are enamored with stories, be they picture books or tales of the outside world that awaits them when their caretakers permit it. I believe that stories have a healing power of their own.”

“That’s a lovely thought.” Raven turned a pleased shade of pink. “How insightful of you to say.”

“You flatter me, my dear.” He paused, replacing his hat on his head. “I hope you don’t mind, but... I happened to overhear your conversation with the good ghost tailor, and I cannot help but be curious. What’s this about that event you plan on attending?”

She shrunk, glancing at the ground in shame. “It’s embarrassing to confess, but... I’ve been single for a long time now. I often work late into the night, so I sleep at odd hours and forget meals... It worries my friends and my uncle to no end, so they push me to go out and meet someone who will be able to help look after me.”

“Really?” Jade feigned surprise. “A charming and attractive young lady like yourself, single? I find that difficult to believe.”

Raven’s cheeks turned bright red. “D-Doctor!”

“Please, call me Jade,” he insisted.

“You... You can’t just go around casually saying such things, Jade.” Raven ran a hand through her hair, toying with her locks to calm her flustered thoughts. “I don’t think your spouse would appreciate it if you were in town flirting with random women.”

“I do not have a spouse. I’m afraid that I am every bit as single as you are.”

Raven blinked. Now it was her turn to be flabbergasted. “Truly? I cannot fathom why that is. You seem to be quite intelligent, given your occupation. And furthermore, you’re very well-mannered and gentlemanly, yet witty... you seem to be skilled in the home... you’re very handso—”

She caught herself and stopped, not bothering to finish her sentence. “I-In any case, many would find you to be the ‘ideal husband’. I don’t understand why you are without a partner. Or are you the type that prefers to be alone?”

“Fufufu. Not at all. I get lonely quite easily, in fact. Imagine coming home from a bustling hospital, full of colleagues and my beloved patients, to a cold and empty living space. It is enough to bring a tear to anyone’s eyes.” Jade sighed, pretending to wipe at his eyes. “Truth be told, I did have a wife of a several years, with whom I had a child. However, she tragically passed away due to illness. I’ve only recently recovered from the grief of that loss.”

“Oh dear...” Raven slapped her hands over her mouth, a muted gasp slipping through her fingers. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked—”

“It’s alright. You had no idea.” He spoke softly, his voice as gentle as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. “It is actually cathartic for me to speak on the topic. Though I am a professional of the mind, it is not often when others ask me to speak on what is in mine—so I much appreciate your curiosity, Miss Crowley.”

“A-Ah, no need for the formalities, sir... um, Jade! If I’m going to call you by first name, then there’s no issue with you doing the same.”

“Then... Raven.” His lips slightly parted to reveal the gleam of his teeth. “I like the sound of it. It reminds me of the bird by the same name.”

“Hehe. I like how your name sounds, too! Jade is a beautiful green.”

“Oya, how droll.” He bent, bringing his face closer a little to hers. “Your company is quite enjoy your company, Raven. That is why... May I ask a great favor of you? It is something that I have been thinking about a good deal, but I’ve been struggling to find someone able to help. It would mean the absolute world to me.”

“Certainly!” She almost leapt at the chance. “If it’s within my power, I will do whatever I can to assist you, Jade.”

“Excellent. I knew you were ‘the one’ from the moment I first laid eyes on you.” He smiled tenderly, his hands suddenly closing around hers—his newspaper fluttering to the floor.

Jade dropped to one knee, right in the middle of the tailor’s shop. The writer’s heart went still.

“Raven Crowley, will you marry me?”

“... Eh?”

“You see, it was a dream of my late wife’s that our child be enrolled in Royal Sword Academy. RSA has students that are celebrities, royalty, sons and daughters of famous businesspeople and politicians... It only accepts the cream of the crop, interviewing and strictly vetting all applicants. And, unfortunately, single parents are highly frowned upon and stand a low chance of gaining entry.

“What’s more... My daughter is already five years of age. She has been asking me as to the whereabouts of their mother, and... I cannot being myself to break her heart by telling her about her mother’s passing, that I am widowed. But alas, a father’s love is not enough to fill the void in her heart. She desires for another parental figure’s love and guidance in addition to my own.

“For both the sake of my late wife’s final wish, and my child’s happiness, I wish to remarry. However, it has been extremely difficult for me to find someone willing to immediately jump into parenthood. That is why I am asking this of you, Raven...!

“It would be a beneficial arrangement for yourself as well, would it not? I will make sure that you are looked after and taken care of. Your friends and family will not continue to worry for your wellbeing. You can be more productive than ever with your craft. It will be equal parts give and take.”

A happy lie.

... Yes.

She had said yes to him.

Raven stumbled into her apartment still semi-dazed from the interaction at the tailor’s. The door slammed shut behind her, its lock automatically clicking into place.

It was only then that she collapsed onto the floor as a small ball, quaking terribly and erupting into a dark scarlet.

She hadn’t expected to encounter such a dashing, beautiful man while running errands. She hadn’t been anticipating a proposal in broad daylight. It had all been so dizzying, so intoxicating... A cocktail of wild emotions so strong, she felt drunk.

“I’ll file a request with the local court for a marriage license right away,” Jade had told her, scribbling down his details on a slip of paper before offering it. “In the meantime, you should begin packing your belongings to move in with me. This is my contact information—please let me know when you are done packing. I will come to assist you with the moving process.”

That man moved quickly, as though he had a plan in place for everything.

Raven pulled the slip from her pocket and stared down at it. His full name, email, phone number, and address—soon to be their address—were all there. She’d soon have to call up everyone and tell them all about her wonderful new husband, and how they had met by pure serendipity...

Her mind was filled with memories of him. His grins, his laughs, his jokes and witty banter. The rich timbre of his voice, his hypnotic heterochromatic eyes, the tinkling earring, the way he would pause to tuck his stripe of black hair behind one ear...

His sweet words.

Brief as her time with Jade was, it felt as though they had known each other for a lifetime.

It’s like I’m in one of my own love stories.

“Ahhhh, he’s just too perfect!!” Raven squealed, smacking her own cheeks. “Calm down, calm down...! You’ve got to get it together and play the part of the perfect wife and mother...!”

RING RING RING!!!

“Waaaah!” She yelped, surprised by the abrupt jingle and vibration coming from her purse. Hastily digging through it, Raven retrieved her phone and pressed it to her ear. “H-Hello?”

“..................... ess.”

“Hmm?” Raven strained her ears. Her grip on the device tightened.

“... Feathered Princess, the Ball awaits,” the voice on the other end of the line rasped. “Don your finery, and descend upon your new Prince.”

At once, all the blood drained from her face, and her once bright eyes went cold, dull.

“Understood. The Princess accepts your Invitation. Where and when is the Ball, and who is my Prince?” She listened intently as her superior relayed the details go her. A moment, or perhaps two, later, and Raven was already off of the phone.

She strode toward her closet, throwing it open to reveal a black gown in its depths. Not just the dress, either. The inside of the closet was lined with various deadly accessories and weapons. A glittering tiara with spines so pointed they could impale a man, rings that concealed vials of poisons able to deliver deadly kisses, letter openers so sharp that they doubled as daggers, and more.

All tools of her trade.

“A shame that this will be my ‘wedding dress’, but a job’s a job,” Raven murmured, removing the gown off of its hook. “Hm... What shall I wear with it this time? What would go best with my target’s blood?”

“... Report in, Agent Sirius.”

“Yes.” Jade spoke calmly into his transceiver. “Operation Strix is proceeding smoothly. I have safely acquired one ‘child’ unit and one ‘wife’ unit. We will be moving forward with plans to enroll the child at RSA shortly.”

“Fufu. As expected of our best operative. Finding a ‘family’ in a week’s time is nothing for you.”

“Thank you, sir. In regards to the wife I have found... I would like to request a forged marriage license dated approximately a year ago for use in this mission. If our ‘marriage’ was much more recently, the board at RSA may think it suspicious—a matrimony done only to infiltrate their prestigious school.”

Which wasn’t exactly false.

“Very well. I will prepare and mail you the appropriate documentation tomorrow. Agent Sirius, I trust that you’ve already run the necessary background checks on your ‘wife’ to ensure that she is ‘clean’?”

“Of course.” Jade’s lips tugged into a smirk. “Raven Crowley. Single, never married, and therefore never divorced. Never even dated. She currently rents an attic space which she works out of as a freelance writer. Her only living relative is a bumbling uncle. She is an eloquent but lonely individual with a penchant for romanticisms.

“I fed her a sob story, which she readily consumed. In fact, she was rather eager to. I assure you that Miss Crowley is someone who can easily be shaped to fulfill our needs.”

“An impressive report. And the child?”

“Selected from an orphanage, sir. She was recommended to me by the keeper. I was told she was not well-liked by the other children due to the strange condition of her eyes... because of her heterochromia. It lent her credibility as my biological child.”

“What of her skills and intelligence? You know of RSA’s stringent vetting process. There will likely be a test of wits for a portion of the entrance exam.”

“I administered a sample test to the girl, using a range of difficulty in the questions. She passed with flying colors. The girl appears to have incredible knowledge, almost as though she is able to read minds. I foresee that we will have few issues with any intelligence-related tests RSA has to offer.”

“Another incredible pick, Agent Sirius. With the addition of yourself, the three of you will form the ‘ideal family’ unit.”

“Indeed.” Jade nodded, both far away and near at the same time. His eyes were focused on his goal, somewhere in the distance. “With that being said, that is the end of my report. I’m afraid that I must be excusing myself now. I have promised to read the child a so-called ‘bedtime story.’”

“My thanks for the detailed report and the dedication to your task.”

“I am just doing my job. Farewell, Chief Ashengrotto.”

“Yes. Another time, then.”

The transceiver went dead.

Jade carefully planted it among his items—amid his stash of spy gear in his back room. The one place he had forbidden his ‘child’ from entering. He sanitized his hands using the contents of a large bottle by the entrance before locking the door shut.

In the hallway, a great grandfather clock tick-tick-ticked. Time marched on, wrangling in the full moon and an armful of stars.

Jade rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and expelled a sigh as he made his way over to the room designated as his daughter’s. Before he could knock on the door, it flew open—like the one within had predicted his presence.

A small, rosy-cheeked girl poked her head out, dark, curled pigtails bobbing. She gave a sharp-toothed grin. One eye a brilliant gold, the other an inquisitive shade of olive.

“Papa, you’re late!” she cried, pouting.

“I apologize, Onyx. The work call took longer than I had anticipated.” He crouched down to scoop her up in his arms, holding her close to him. “Ah, but I will make it up to you with some wonderful news: I’ve found you a mother.”

At last. I was beginning to get a migraine trying to locate someone. If only HQ better allocated its assignment of female agents, then maybe I wouldn’t have had an issue in the first place.

“A mama?! Really?! Finally found one?!!” Onyx’s mismatched eyes lit up. “What’s she like, what’s she like?”

“Oh, I think you’ll like her,” Jade chuckled. He swept into her room, gently placing the little girl on her bed. “She’s cute, caring, and very refined, with fluffy hair and pretty eyes. Fufufu... In fact, she’s very much like the princesses in the picture books you like so much.”

She’s a useful tool for our cause. A far too kind-hearted and gullible woman.

“Whoa, I’m getting a kinda princess as a mama?!” Onyx scrambled onto her feet, gripping tightly onto his suit lapels. “When can I meet her, when, when, when?”

“I venture it will be a few days’ time. Your new mother will be moving in with us, so I want you to be on your best behavior for her.”

For the sake of world peace, I hope these two can get along. Raven is expecting a child, but I neglected to mention the hyperactivity...

“Best behavior!! Roger!!” Onyx did her best to salute like the spies she saw on her favorite Saturday morning cartoon. “I’ll make you proud, papa!! For the sake of world peace!!”

“Good girl. Now then, what story would you like for me to read to you today?” Jade indicated a small bookshelf, languidly running an index finger along some spines.

The role of a perfect, loving father. This, too, was but a part to play. A temporary identity, a character in some story he pretended to be.

To fulfill my mission, I will weaponize anything and everything at my disposal. Lies, looks... even love.

Onyx beamed knowingly.

“Pinocchio, please!”

Every person a secret self that they don’t show to others. Not to friends, not to lovers... not even to family.

They hide who they are and what they want behind falsehoods painted with smiles. They tell pretty lies to hide ugly truths and wear masks to conceal their true faces.

... And thus, the world maintains its veneer of peace.

Let this new game of secrets and liars begin.

... HAHAHAHHHHHH HAVE SOME CONCEPT ART BORNE OF MY ROT

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galateagalvanized · 3 years

Text

@ahhrenata I accidentally deleted your ask (!) but here’s #28 for the touching prompts meme:

#28. Feeling for each other in the dark

Cody doesn’t do anything so unprofessional as ask are you sure, but he does hesitate—for a single precise second, just long enough for Obi-Wan to change his mind—before sending out the order.

“What will we lose first, do you think?” Obi-Wan asks next to him, as casually as if he were inquiring about the weather.

Cody can’t quite bring himself to comment with his usual wit.

“Everything, sir, at once,” he says, but he relents at Obi-Wan’s raised eyebrow. “Oh, fine. Unshielded solid state electronics will be a complete wipe. Pretty much everything in my bucket, and all but our short-range radios if we disconnect them prior to the pulse.”

“Hm, and the lights will go out too, I suppose,” Obi-Wan muses. Through the transparisteel of his helmet, he looks as if he’s debating whether or not to put the kettle on, not hanging from the broken wing of a ghost ship in the dark depths of uncharted space. Cody had always been amazed by his general’s ability to embody calm and level-headedness in even the direst of straits, but here, now, Cody can see the lie of it. In the flickering emergency landing lights of the broken warbird, Cody can see the sweat on his general’s forehead and the too-tight grip on the curling metal sheets they’re both hanging from.

All luck, even luck built through meticulous planning and exceptionalism, can eventually run out.

“Our air supply should be fine for a while,” Cody says, more quietly. “These suits have manual seals, and the rebreathers are chemical, not electronic.”

“You’re saying we’ve got a chance, hm?” Obi-Wan says. He’s found a grin somewhere just for Cody, and Cody nods.

And, just before he disconnects his radio, he adds, “We’ve always got a chance when you’re here, sir.”

The EMP hits a few minutes later.

Cody doesn’t feel a wave moving through his body so much as he feels the lurch of the ship underneath him and the choke of his suit as it collapses under the surge of differential voltages. His HUD crackles with blinding, bitter static before shutting off completely, and then there’s nothing. He breathes carefully in the darkness, focusing on the easy movement of air through his nose and down his throat, on the expansion and contraction of his lungs. He’d meant what he’d told Obi-Wan about the rebreathers, but it’s good to be right.

The inky black darkness is complete, as black as sin, as the night without stars. When Cody closes his eyes, his eyelids spark with little lights and colors as if trying to make up for the lack of stimulation.

He loosens his grip just a little on the broken wing in front of him, testing the feeling of the metal beneath his gloves. Somewhere on the other side of this hunk of metal is, theoretically, over a thousand droids. Somewhere behind him, the 501st is bringing their ship back out of safe range from the EMP and scanning every inch of the ghost ship for Obi-Wan and Cody. It’ll be a painstaking manual process even with infrared scanning, and all Cody and Obi-Wan can do is hope that more Separatist forces don’t show up in the meantime.

It is, as the 212th has taken to saying, a real Skywalker of a plan.

Cody reaches one hand back to the side of his helmet and spins the dial that manually reconnects his short range radio. It’s designed expressly for this purpose, for running on battery if the suit’s dead, but Cody panics when nothing comes through his helmet. After a second, and then two, he hears someone else’s breathing.

“Obi-Wan?” he asks into the darkness. He wouldn’t usually use Obi-Wan’s name over comms, but, in this exact instant, he can be sure no one else is listening.

The first thing he hears from his general is a curse.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, thank you,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh, and Cody’s heart settles back into place. “It’s just. Well, I’d hoped that my lightsaber might have survived, but the diatium power core must be fried. We are truly alone in the dark, Commander.”

There’s an undercurrent of throttled panic in his general’s voice that Cody’s never heard before. Perhaps Cody’s hearing is sharpened because his other senses are unoccupied, or perhaps there’s something more that Obi-Wan knows about the dark. Hanging here, blind and waiting, isn’t a comfortable situation by any means, and Cody might be praying if he were a praying man.

He isn’t; at least not to gods. Obi-Wan’s answered more prayers than any god ever could.

So he reaches, stretching through the darkness in Obi-Wan’s direction, and maybe it’s something a little like prayer that guides his hand. With his eyes closed, he almost thinks he can see the outline of his general, limned in glory and a sweetly molten kind of love, and he smiles when he finds a hand reaching back. He twists their fingers together, tight enough to bind the fabric of their space suits, tight enough to feel his pulse through the grip.

Over the radio, Obi-Wan sighs as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

“There’s a saying on Coruscant, you know,” he says, and Cody can’t help but grin. If Obi-Wan’s finding a teachable moment in a situation like this, they’re definitely going to be alright.

“What do they say?” Cody hums.

“They say that… they say love is different for everyone, that it’s a different road, with different lessons, for every combination. But that love, at its heart, is simply reaching out a hand in the darkness and knowing someone’s reaching back. And, even in the darkness, knowing you’re not alone.”

Cody doesn’t know anything about love, not really, but he knows Obi-Wan. And he has seen Obi-Wan’s darkness, and his solitude, and he has rarely seen Obi-Wan reaching out.

Not alone, Cody thinks. Not here, not now, not ever.

He swallows. This, too, will be a confession. “Obi-Wan. As long as you’re reaching for me, I’ll be reaching back for you.”

And they hang there, together in the darkness, until the bright white searchlights of the Resolute shine upon their joined hands.

—Neil Gaiman

Thank you so much for the prompt! Sorry it took so long; I had to do enough research on EMPs to put me on a government list hahaha

#Codywan #Prompt fills #am writing #Ask chel #Ahhrenata #I’m sure the post-o66 sequel #Where Obi-Wan reaches for Cody in the dark (side)#Is absolutely crippling #But that’s neither here nor there 🤡

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iwhumpyou · 2 years

Text

I posted 107 times in 2021

57 posts created (53%)

50 posts reblogged (47%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.9 posts.

I added 120 tags in 2021

#envy answers - 31 posts

#whump meta - 14 posts

#batfamily - 12 posts

#writing advice - 12 posts

#whump prompt - 12 posts

#whump community - 10 posts

#compliment - 8 posts

#shitpost - 8 posts

#enemy to caretaker - 7 posts

#whump tropes - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 103 characters

#sometimes your readers' imaginations come up with things more horrifying than you can ever put to paper

My Top Posts in 2021

Trope: Enemy to Caretaker (Take Two)

See also: Enemy to Caretaker (Take One)

It’s about the power dynamics, see.

It’s about being vulnerable and helpless at the feet of someone you believe wishes you ill.

It’s about how people react when they have absolute power thrust into their hands.

It’s about how you can tell the depth of a person’s soul by whether they help when it is not required of them, when it is not expected of them, when it is not custom to them.

It’s about expecting pain and receiving comfort.

It’s about breaking - breaking in front of a rival, a villain, an enemy - and being handed the pieces to put yourself back together again.

It’s about what you give and what you take when you don’t have the energy for trust.

It’s about tipping the balance of power - through injury, through exhaustion, through emotional trauma - and watching them reach out and slowly tip it back.

159 notes • Posted 2021-01-14 22:00:41 GMT

Aesthetic: ‘Please’

It’s funny how a single word can change everything.

It’s supposed to be polite. It’s supposed to be good manners.

It’s not supposed to be a glaring target.

Because please means something. Because please changes the context of the situation from casualness to desperation. Because please is begging, is pleading, is hoping and praying and crying.

‘Please don’t hurt them.’

‘Please give it back.’

‘Please stop.’

‘Please.’

Force the plea from stuttering lips, drag it out of cracking defiance and impotent rage, arrange the pieces of broken confidence and control.

Please.

215 notes • Posted 2021-01-05 22:00:51 GMT

me: I want to read something written with my favorite tropes, in my favorite style, with my favorite characters.

my brain: so basically you want to read something you’ve written.

me: yes.

my brain: without ever actually writing it.

me: .....yes.

587 notes • Posted 2021-06-14 01:04:29 GMT

Every piece of work you create doesn’t have to be The Best, Perfect, Most Flawless Work for it to be meaningful.

The first story I ever started? About teenage girls that get elemental powers and get kidnapped? If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never tried getting stories out of my head and onto paper.

The first story I ever finished? A YA fantasy with too many characters and flat relationships and a unnecessarily complicated plot? If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never believed that I could finish a novel-length story.

The first fanfiction I ever uploaded? A self-insert OC fanfiction that overused italics? If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never gone on to spend a decade writing fanfiction.

The first novel I tried to query? A draft I didn’t much like, a story I was fed-up with, rejections I knew were deserved? If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never pushed myself to figure out what the publishing process looked like.

The whump snippets I jot down? Help me refine writing whump, writing pain, writing angst and emotions and feelings.

The new tropes/styles I try out? Help me broaden my writing experience, better my writing, allow me to branch out.

The writing, day after day, even if it’s deleted, even if I hate it, even if I think it’s absolute garbage? Help me write, help me get words onto the page, help me flex my fingers and imagination, help me figure out what I’m doing wrong so I know what to do right.

Everything you create is a step forward, even if you don’t see it at the time.

When you look back at old work, it’s easy to cringe, it’s easy to hide your face, it’s easy to wince and wish you did better and pretend like it didn’t exist. But climbing a mountain means accepting that you started at the bottom, means realizing that the view is so much better for the effort, means remembering that even when you couldn’t see the clouds, you kept moving forward.

2247 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 15:04:04 GMT

One of the best tips for writing descriptions of pain is actually a snippet I remember from a story where a character is given a host of colored pencils and asked to draw an egg.

The character says that there’s no white pencil. But you don’t need a white pencil to draw a white egg. We already know the egg is white. What we need to draw is the luminance of the yellow lamp and the reflection of the blue cloth and the shadows and the shading.

We know a broken bone hurts. We know a knife wound hurts. We know grief hurts. Show us what else it does.

You don’t need to describe the character in pain. You need to describe how the pain affects the character - how they’re unable to move, how they’re sweating, how they’re cold, how their muscles ache and their fingers tremble and their eyes prickle.

Draw around the egg. Write around the pain. And we will all be able to see the finished product.

60058 notes • Posted 2021-03-06 16:40:09 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #okay for anyone using desktop #you may need to zoom out to see the button you need to press #took me fucking forever to figure that out #this goddamn hellsite

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eternalstann · 3 years

Text

Still The One

Tom Holland x Reader

Request: Congrats on your 2,000 followers!!You deserve it! ❤️ Could I please request a Tom imagine? Maybe an angsty one where they break off their relationship of a few years after a few bad fights. So months go by and Tom is still a mess, his family still misses you so he decides to win you back but unbeknownst to him you have been seeing someone for the past couple of weeks. Who will Y/N choose?? It would mean so much but no worries if you have trouble writing this request, I would still be looking forward to your other writing. But major thanks in advance 😊😊

In the moment, Tom thought he’d done the right thing.

He loved you, and he knew you loved him but things weren’t like they were when you first met. You’d been arguing more and more often..it just felt like you weren’t on the same page.

Finally, both of you had just had enough.

“You know what, Y/N this isn’t working any more” Tom’s voice was quieter now; different from the screaming match the two of you were having just moments before. He feels the lump in his throat the second the words leave his mouth and he almost wants to take them back. But part of him knows neither of you could go on like this.

“I was thinking the same thing” you reply coldly, eyes staring back at him with zero emotion. You were numb, a piece of you breaking when his words washed over you. You turn your back to him, feeling the tears well.

Tom watched you in silence, as you grabbed your purse, walking out the door. And out of his life.

And that was it. Now here Tom was, almost five months later. Completely sure that losing you was the biggest mistake of his life. He lay in his bed, scrolling through pictures of the two you he couldn’t bring himself to delete. Watching videos and listening to your laugh. His heart ached in his chest, looking at the sparkle in his eyes that only you could bring. He just wanted to feel the same happiness he had with you again. He wanted you.

And it wasn’t enough for him to feel shitty about your break up, his friends and family refused to let you go. Or let him live it down.

You were the daughter Nikki never had, and Tom had been terrified to tell her. He remembers the look of shock and disappointment when she found out, not even from him. She’d texted you to meet for lunch and nearly dropped her phone when you politely told her you didn’t think it was appropriate since you and Tom had split up.

Tom remembers him and Harry almost getting into a literal fist fight when Harry called him an idiot for leaving you.

Even Zendaya and Jacob were pissed at him, refusing to choose between the two of you.

You had been a part of every single aspect of his life and now he felt an emptiness that he knew was from the loss of you.

Tom finally peeled himself from his bed, getting dressed to visit his parents and siblings for dinner.

Seeing them was a temporary distraction and he was happy he’d decided to come until about halfway through the meal.

“Hey Tom, can you take me to the mall tomorrow?” Paddy asks cheerfully and Tom takes another bite of his food before telling him no.

“Y/N would’ve taken me” Paddy grumbles and Sam kicks him under the table.

“Ouch! Well she would’ve! She was always nicer than you. I don’t know why she ever agreed to be your girlfriend in the first place” he exclaims, getting up from the table.

The rest of his family is stunned into silence at Paddy’s outburst.

“Well, in his defense...she probably would’ve taken him to the mall” Harry adds and Dom hushes the redhead.

“Tom, honey I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. I’ll make him apologize” Nikki tried to console him but Tom assures her it’s fine. Because he knows where it came from.

You had become a part of the family. You’d helped Paddy with homework and made TikToks with him. You cooked with Sam. You laughed at his dads jokes. Hell you and Harry were pretty much best friends and he was positive the two of you still talked, much to his annoyance.

But he couldn’t be mad at his family, when he was already too mad at himself. This was his doing, and he needed to fix it. He still loved you, and this was his sign to get you back.

He mustered up all his courage and set his pride aside to text you; after begging Harry to give him your new number.

“Hey Y/N. It’s Tom. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from and you don’t owe me anything. But it would mean the world to me if we could just meet and talk some time. I hope you’re doing well. Xoxo”

He sends the text with an exhale, tossing his phone onto his bed. He doesn’t know why he thought you’d answer right away. It takes 3 days for him to get the message that you weren’t going to respond. And he couldn’t blame you. He’d been a dick the last few weeks of your relationship. But he couldn’t stop trying.

He prayed you lived in the same apartment. Buying your favorite flowers and meal, he was going to turn up at your door. Give you the gifts, and beg you to hear him out. If you didn’t, then he swore to himself he’d leave you alone forever.

Before he knew it he found himself standing outside your place.

—

You were sitting on the couch, laughing with Justin - your sort of friend but maybe more. The two of you had been enjoying a movie together; making ridiculous comments throughout.

You snort when he throws a piece of popcorn at your face and you attempt to catch it in your mouth, failing horribly.

“Nice try babe” he says sarcastically, tossing a piece into his own mouth. He stares at you, and you stare back.

“You look beautiful tonight, you always do” he compliments and your stomach flutters with butterflies.

“Thank you...” you whisper, scooting closer to him and he does the same. Your lips are only centimeters apart when you hear a knock on your door. You roll your eyes, of course.

“One second” you pat Justins leg before standing up to see who could possibly be at your door. You pull down the hoodie you were wearing and straighten out your hair a bit before yanking open your door.

You nearly pass out when you see who it is.

“Tom?!” you ask incredulously, absolutely not expecting to see him. You glance to Justin on your couch, then back to Tom in your doorway. Justin gave you butterflies. But Tom? He gave you the whole fucking zoo.

Your eyes scan over him, to someone who didn’t know him he looked good. Amazing even. He was even more built than the last time you’d seen him, and his hair had grown out. But you knew him. You noticed the bags under his eyes, and how oily his hair was. The slouch in his posture. You even noticed how chewed up his nails were. And then the flowers he held, and the take out bag of food from your favorite restaurant.

You try to ignore the way your heart throbs in your chest, and your brain is dreading where this was going.

It had taken you almost 3 months to be even remotely okay after you and Tom broke up. Finally going to the bar after your friends dragged you out. That’s when you met Justin, and had been seeing him ever since.

Now here Tom was, standing in front of you. And all you want to do is jump into his arms. But you hold it together, refusing to throw away all the time you spent trying to forget him. All the effort you’d put in with Justin. You couldn’t go back.

“Y/N...you look even more gorgeous than I remember” he says breathlessly and you shift awkwardly on your feet. “Thank you, you look nice too” you answer cooly.

Tom can’t take his eyes off you, studying every detail all over again. The way your hair fell around your pretty face, the way the hood of the sweater you were wearing sat perfectly on your neck....and then it hit him. You were wearing his pink hoodie.

“Is that my hoodie?” He asks dumbly and you didn’t even realize it either until he said it. You stammer for the right words to say when suddenly you feel an arm wrap around your waist.

“Everything okay babe?” Justin’s voice sounds, startling you from your Tom induced daze.

Tom stands up straighter at the sight of Justin next to you.

“Y/N can we please talk?” Tom asks and your eyes dart between the two men.

“Justin; can you give me a little bit? I’m so sorry I promise we’ll do something soon” you grab his hand and he gives you a small smile.

“No problem babe, I won’t be far. Call me if you need me” Justin answers sweetly pecking you on your lips before brushing past Tom.

You feel your whole body heat up, kissing another man in front of Tom... the person who a few short months ago you swore you’d marry and be with forever; it just felt wrong.

“Um, come in Tom” you gesture for him to enter, shutting the door behind him.

You feel tingly all over being alone with him and you wonder if not just slamming the door in his face was a mistake.

“What was that all about?” Tom asks and you know he’s talking about Justin. You roll your eyes, and just like that the shock of Tom being there is gone. You feel just like you did five months ago. On the verge of another argument with the brunette.

“He’s just a friend” you answer, sitting down on your couch. And Tom squints, “you kiss your friends on the lips now?”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Why are you here Tom?” You ask with a sigh and Tom takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry. I was just jealous” he admits and you cross your arms.

“You have no right to be jealous Tom. I’m single” you spit, remembering the worst night of your life and hearing him say those fateful words.

“I know; and that’s why I’m here” he responds, sitting next to you. “I brought these for you..” he raises the gifts in his hands before setting them on the coffee table.

“Thank you” you thank him curtly.

“I texted you...” Tom says slowly and you nod- “I saw”

When he texted you, you hoped he’d take the hint when you didn’t respond. Clearly you were wrong.

Tom sighs again before he starts talking.

“Y/N. Words cannot explain how sorry I am for how things ended between us. I’ve been up almost every night just wishing they were different. Wishing you were still mine....”

You stop him there.

You you already feel yourself ready to cry. Half of you had been dreaming about this moment, praying for it to happen. But the other half of you is stubborn.

“Tom you can’t do this. You broke up with me...and now you come back months later with some speech thinking I’m just going to take you back? You broke my heart. You wrecked me. I didn’t get out of bed for weeks after you. I cried until I ran out of tears. And you bring me flowers like that’s some sort of consolation for the pain you put me through?” You finish, voice wobbly by the time you make it to the end.

“Darling, I know no material thing could make up for the pain. Because trust me I felt it to. I still feel it. That’s why I’m here. But Y/N you’re my soulmate, I know that. I know that with every fiber of my being.” He pleads and you can’t stop the tears from falling now.

You’re so overwhelmed you don’t know what to do.

“I can’t do this Tom. I can’t, I’m sorry” you say, standing to walk away but he grabs you hand.

Tom holds your hand so tightly it almost hurts and your heart breaks when you see that he’s crying too. He drops to his knees in front of you.

“Baby if you don’t want to be with me, why’d you keep the pink hoodie? And I know about your secret brunch dates with my mum. Y/N part of you still wants this. Please, all I’m asking for is another chance” he begs and you throw your head back, a million thoughts running through your mind at once.

You know deep down that Tom is still the one. The love of your life. And you know that you’d NEVER forgive yourself if you didn’t try again with him.

You pull him to his feet, staring into his watery eyes.

“It can’t be like last time....” you whisper and Tom pulls you into a hug, squeezing you so tightly you can’t breathe.

“It won’t be darling, I promise” he whispers into your hair before pulling back to look at you again.

“I love you, Y/N” he mumbles, hands holding the sides of your face and you smile gently.

“I love you too, Tommy” you hum, and then he’s kissing you through your tears.

Like you were made for each other. And you were.

————

Ugh I almost feel like this isn’t angst enough but I tried, thank you so much for requesting!! I love you ❤️❤️❤️ THE 2K SLEEPOVER CELEBRATION IS STILL GOING ON!!

((Also does anyone know how to do the read more link from mobile pls and thanks😭))

#tomhollandsstan 2k sleepover #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland preference #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #Peter Parker #Tom Holland angst #tom holland smut

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Bloom, Bloom, Pow! |1| - CHANGMIN

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!! Please enjoy the first half of nearly 17k of pining for the boy I would be pining for if he was in my life <3

Special thanks to @wingkkun for helping me come up with several parts of this story!! I don’t know how you deal with me, Kai, but I really appreciate it <3

(Suggested playlist: Bloom Bloom, DDD, and Just U by The Boyz :D)

Pairing: Changmin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, university!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 9.4k

Dancing with you, Changmin feels like flowers are blooming in his heart.

Part 1 | Part 2

TBZ Masterlist | Interwoven

~ you

It starts like this.

Ji Changmin is notorious for his dancing, not because he’s bad at it (he’s arguably one of the best students in the dance department), but for his habit of moonwalking through the university halls. Headphones stuck in his ears, phone in hand, he twists and twirls around campus, eyes closed in concentration or fixed on some faraway point in space, lost in the realm of his music.

And the strangest thing is, he never bumps into a single person.

Oh, he might brush against an arm or two. His fingertips might graze a shoulder with a butterfly’s touch, his feet just barely skimming over another’s shoes. But crashing into someone? Knocking into a wall? Never.

It’s fun to see, really, when you cross paths with him or when he shows up on the school Snapchat story. Even though you only know Changmin by name (Kevin talks to him, but you haven’t had the pleasure), there’s something endlessly graceful and fascinating about the way he moves, slipping through the crowded halls with the cheerful air of someone who doesn’t care about what other people around them think.

It starts with an impulse, just something to lighten up your mood. You’re walking to one of your least favorite classes (look, writing might be fun, but certainly not the way your professor teaches it) when Changmin’s bright orange mop of hair appears ahead. A slight smile creeps up your face as he comes closer, an unstoppable force parting the crowded sea of students.

An idea pops into your mind.

Trip him up.

Briefly, you question yourself. Why?

Like that meme, your brain supplies a concise answer. You gotta.

You’re grinning, moving before your mind can even process what your body has decided to do. Stepping awkwardly around a couple of other students, you place yourself right in Changmin’s path.

He twists.

You turn.

He lurches.

You step.

He flashes you a confused look, his usual faraway gaze replaced with something bemused and even slightly annoyed. For a second, you feel a flash of uncertainty – what if he doesn’t see this as the joke you mean it to be? After all, you don’t even know each other. How is he going to take this?

But he must see the teasing smile on your face and the glint in your gaze because his eyes sparkle, lips stretching wide into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen him wear. His moves take on an exaggerated cadence, arms stretching widely, legs smoothly twisting around your much less graceful feet as he twirls, just avoiding your flailing hands jokingly trying to stop him.

Changmin wins, of course. Your mediocre attempts at obstruction are nothing against his skill. As he slips away, he flashes you a smirk of farewell, leaving you with only the memory of a bright smile, graceful limbs, and an awkward dance.

You expect it to be a one-time thing. It’s so stupid when you think about it later – what the hell possessed you to do that, anyway? You’re cringing just thinking about it – so there’s no way, you tell yourself, no way that Changmin would bother to acknowledge your presence again. When you walk down the same hall a few days later and see a bright orange head of hair artfully bobbing in your direction, you just smile a bit at the residual memories.

But Changmin catches your eye, his gaze brightening when it meets yours. As the curve of his lips widens, one graceful finger twitches slightly in a tiny gesture – get over here. His eyes glint – try me.

A grin spreads across your face as you step closer. Why not?

And so, again, you dance.

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin doesn’t really know what makes you so special. He doesn’t know why he indulges your twists and turns, weaving in and out of your awkwardly stepping feet on the way to class. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just give you a weird look the first day you stepped into his path, avoided you as best he could and walked away.

But that would’ve erased the smile on your face, he reasons, thinking back to the memories. It would’ve extinguished the sparkle in your eye, muted the brightness of your expression into something far less brilliant. And despite the fact that Changmin barely knows who you are, has only a vague recollection of your name from when someone once called to you down the hall, in that moment, he subconsciously knew that there was nothing he would willingly do to dim your sparkle. Not a sparkle of beauty, necessarily, or of mere physical loveliness. No, in your smile, there’s something deeper, something brilliantly incandescent that strikes right into Changmin’s heart.

Other people think it’s stupid. Younghoon, for example, wonders if he’s gone absolutely nuts the first time he witnesses the dance (well, Changmin calls it a dance – Younghoon says it looks more like a cult ritual). “What the fuck was that?” he asks after you walk off, raising an extremely confused eyebrow.

Changmin just shrugs, watching your figure disappear down the hall before slipping back into his usual moonwalk. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “We just do it.”

“You’re so weird,” Younghoon mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Do you even know their name?”

Again, he shrugs. “Y/N, I think?”

Younghoon chokes. “You think?”

If Changmin thinks about it, it is kind of stupid. You stepped into his path in a crowded hallway and proceeded to try and trip him up, all while wearing a huge grin on your face (that Changmin thinks is beautiful, but he won’t dig into that just yet). Changmin, instead of trying to get away, decided to indulge your fun. You’ve never exchanged a single spoken word – he isn’t even sure you know his name, though he can’t really say anything because he isn’t sure he knows yours – and you’ve rarely interacted, even nonverbally, beyond a few smiles and the little confrontation that happens every Monday and Wednesday at approximately two-ten in the afternoon when the two of you walk down the same hall.

But it doesn’t feel stupid, not in the moment. It feels right, somehow, grinning as widely as his lips will allow while you try to step all over his toes. You never manage to trip him, not in those few seconds of dance, but Changmin appreciates the effort and laughs along with you, exaggerating his movements and pretending to almost fall, just to see the smile on your face grow wider.

So the stares don’t matter, not to Changmin. He can stomach the strange glances, the hidden smirks, the subtly raised phones trying to catch the scene for the school Snapchat story (anyway, if it bothers him enough, he can terrify Jaehyun into deleting it). He can shrug off Younghoon standing like a silent tree nearby, stuffing his face with bread and praying no one associates him with his squirrelly best friend, because seeing your brilliant smiles and hearing your stifled laughs are more than enough to get him through the rest of the day.

“You never smile that widely around me,” Younghoon remarks one day, “and I’m your best friend.”

Changmin just shrugs as he flashes you one last grin over the sea of students in the hall, turning back to face his friend. “Well,” he says, purposely trying to be infuriating, “there’s a reason for that.”

Younghoon whines, of course, pouting his lips in the way that wins him so many admirers around the school, but Changmin ignores it in favor of thinking about your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle and your limbs fly in your attempts to throw him off his balance.

Yes, he thinks, there’s a reason.

The reason is that your smile is more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen.

. . . . .

~ eric

Eric considers himself pretty well-versed when it comes to feelings. He’s fallen in love a lot, even with people he often doesn’t even know too well. Something just always pulls him in – a particular smile, a mischievous glint of the eye, the way they tap their pencil against their chin when deep in thought. He falls easily, quickly, and a little too hard, and as a result, he can recognize the look in his own eyes (and in others’, too) when he’s fallen head over heels for someone lovely.

He doesn’t have too many problems shooting his shot, either, which is nice. Sunwoo’s told Eric several times that he’s jealous of the way he can walk up to someone so easily and go, “Hey, I want to get to know you a little better – mind if I take you on a date?” To Eric, though, it’s just part of the process. He gets nervous, no doubt, but more often than not, if he’s courteous, he’ll at least meet a new friend, even if the feelings don’t end up being reciprocated.

When Eric slams into you on his board one day – what the fuck were you doing, anyway? Trying to trip up that wide-eyed kid with the dimples? Though to be fair, he shouldn’t be skateboarding in the halls – the first thing he notices is your pretty smile, the embarrassed grin you give him as he apologizes profusely, extending a hand to help you up. His heart thumps once.

True to himself, Eric’s ready to drop a flirty pickup line, make you laugh a little, and ask if he can get you a coffee or something to make up for the trouble. The words are forming on his lips, just about to burst from his throat when he feels a laser gaze glaring holes into his back.

Against his better judgement, Eric looks back slightly. The doe-eyed boy you were, what – interacting with? Dancing with? He needs to go over that scene in his head again – is staring back with so much concentration it looks like he wants to tear out Eric’s entire soul.

You drop Eric’s hand and he looks back, startled by the sudden lack of touch. “Don’t worry, really – I’m not hurt. Thanks for helping me up,” you say.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Your voice.

If Eric’s heart wasn’t already fluttering over your smile, it’s certainly fluttering now over your voice. God, it makes Eric want to just be your friend, at the very least. There’s a perfect mixture of warmth, gentility, and kindness in your tone, sprinkled with something so very sweet that soothes his ears.

Hell.

But by contrast, your smile is distant, like you’re thinking of something beyond the moment. Eric takes the current brief silence to look where your eyes flit off to, trying to see who you’re fixated on.

The doe-eyed boy is walking away, shifting gracefully through the group of students currently converging on the path. Your gaze follows his disappearing figure, something longing and endlessly lovely in your expression.

Ah, Eric realizes, heart sinking slightly. You’re already in love.

The memory of a gaze glaring holes into his soul briefly flashes in his mind, causing Eric’s slightly dampened smile to curl into a light smirk.

From the looks of it, the doe-eyed boy seems to be in love with you too.

Eric looks at you again. “I’m really sorry about that,” he says honestly. “I definitely shouldn’t have been skating in the hall, but I’m glad you aren’t hurt. I hope I haven’t made you late to class?”

You shake your head, smile now focused. You’ve returned to the present. “You’re good,” you reply, briefly checking your phone. “I’ve still got a few minutes.”

“Well, just the same, if you ever want payback in some form or another, just ask around for Eric Sohn.” Picking up his board, Eric flashes you a smile, wishing slightly that your longing gaze was fixed on him, not the dimpled boy who’s long since disappeared. “I can buy you a coffee or something to make up for it.”

“Might take you up on that one of these days,” you grin. “I’m Y/N. Wanna exchange numbers so I can leech that coffee off of you?”

Heart thumping wildly, fingers tapping quickly, Eric enters his number into your phone, saving himself as Eric Sohn 💙. He hopes you don’t mind the emoji.

“Blue heart?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take the phone back. “Not a red one?”

Can’t exactly do that when it’s clear you’re in love, he thinks, though he doesn’t say that out loud. “Nah.” He shrugs. “Figured that’d be too much. Need to get to know you a bit before I do anything more, right?”

A sweet, soft smile spreads across your lips, and Eric has to fight hard not to melt at it. “I appreciate that, Eric,” you say, pocketing your phone. The way you say his name blooms in Eric’s ears. “See you later, maybe?”

Eric knows he probably shouldn’t make judgements so quickly, but it’s hard not to believe in your sweetness with your kind voice and gentle smile. You deserve love, he decides in that moment, with the doe-eyed, dimpled boy who clearly loves you back.

Mentally, he puts a stamp of approval on the mission formulating in his brain as he nods. “See you,” he says, grinning.

Even if he isn’t the one you’ll fall in love with, he can at least help a new friend find their happiness.

. . .

~ kevin

Kevin thinks there’s a special place in hell for lovebirds who clearly like each other but won’t even consider the notion of actually talking and maybe going on a god damn date.

And there’s an extra-special little island in that ocean of fire for such lovebirds who have never spoken a single word to each other in their lives and have only communicated through stupid smiles and mushy eyes and worst of all, motherfucking mating dances.

Yes, that’s what he calls your tiptoe-tap dance-whatever-the-fuck-they-are dances with Changmin. You hit him the first time he said it out loud, but what else can he call it? There’s no other term that fits the situation nearly as well. It’s weird and strange like most mating dances are, and most importantly, the two of you are head over heels in love.

“We’re not in love!” you snap when Kevin brings it up. “How can we be in love if we haven’t even spoken once?”

Kevin nearly spits out his drink.

“You’re telling me,” he enunciates slowly once he’s recovered, “that you have never spoken to this guy, the same guy you were worrying about to me yesterday because you didn’t see him in the hall on schedule, not even once?”

When you nod yes, scowling in embarrassment, Kevin legitimately faceplants into the table. He stays there for several whole minutes, trying to digest the situation and the sheer idiocy of two of his closest friends.

Doesn’t matter. You’re clearly in love, or at least have a very hopeless, incurable crush on Ji Changmin. And if Changmin’s face is anything to go by, he’s head over heels for you too – Kevin’s never seen his friend with that big of a smile on his face or that sparkly of a look in his eyes.

He wants to vomit just thinking of it.

Okay, fine, so maybe some of this abhorrent disgust is due to the fact that Kevin is single and not exactly ready to mingle after several disastrous blind dates. Maybe some of his annoyance at your mating dances is unfounded. But in his defense, the two of you are stupid as fuck.

He’s in the middle of complaining about this mating dance phenomenon to his freshman friend, Eric Sohn, when Eric puts out a hand. “Wait, stop,” he says, halting Kevin mid-complaint. “Are you talking about Y/N and that… that guy, with, like, really round eyes and a dimple?”

Kevin’s eyes narrow. “How do you know them?”

“Well, uh, I accidentally crashed into Y/N on my board while they were doing…” Eric helplessly waves his arms around.

“The mating dance,” Kevin supplies.

“That’s a horrible name, Kevin.”

“It’s the closest thing that explains it.”

“Well, whatever.” Eric cringes. “I gave Y/N my number in case they wanted me to like, buy a coffee or something in exchange for nearly committing a murder. So that’s how I know them. Not sure of the other guy’s name, though.”

Kevin sighs. “Ji Changmin.”

“THAT’S CHANGMIN?”

“Shut up!” Kevin snaps. “Just let the whole dorm hear your screaming, won’t you?”

“Sorry,” Eric snips back, though more quietly this time. “But you all talk about how he’s scary as shit and always dancing? He wasn’t dancing when he walked off, and he looks like… I don’t know, a child? I thought he was a freshman.”

“Wait.” Kevin puts his hands on Eric’s shoulders. “You just said Changmin wasn’t dancing when he walked off?”

Eric slowly shakes his head. “I don’t think so?”

“Oh, my dude.” Kevin begins shaking Eric back and forth. Eric’s head wobbles on his neck for several seconds before he comes to his senses and knocks Kevin’s hands off of his shoulders, scowling. “Eric Sohn, you are fucked.”

“What?” Eric’s eyes immediately turn panicked. “Why?”

“Ji Changmin dances all the fucking time,” Kevin says, putting his head in his hands. How has Eric already fucked up this badly in his first year? Kevin’s a mess, but he can say he’s solidly a B-level mess, meaning he more or less has his social shit together, even if not his academia. “If he wasn’t dancing when he walked away, that means he was pissed off.”

A beat of silence. Then – “Would it help if I had a semi-sort-of plan to get him and Y/N together?”

Kevin’s head snaps up. So maybe Eric isn’t entirely clueless. “So you know they’re literally in love with each other?”

Eric rolls his eyes. “It’s so obvious,” he whines. “Why haven’t you even thought to play Cupid?”

“Because Y/N is stupid and won’t admit that they have feelings, and I haven’t talked to Changmin that much this semester because we have different classes,” Kevin groans. “They’re both so stupid.”

“Eh.” Eric gets a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s hard for a lot of people to realize they’re in love.”

Silence falls as Kevin tries to pin down the familiarly weird feeling his friend is exuding. Eric’s gaze stays faraway, fixed on some point in the metaphorical distance (he’s staring at a wall covered in tacky posters and random sketches – there’s no way he’s enamored with Kevin’s half-baked drawings of trees and scissors and shit).

He looks sad.

“Oh, Eric.” Kevin’s frustration falls away as he pulls the freshman into a hug. “You like Y/N, don’t you?”

Eric doesn’t even deny it, he’s so far past that. “It’s stupid, Kevin. I’ll get over it, I always do. It’s just a crush.”

Not for the first time in his life, Kevin wishes he had his friend’s maturity, even though he wouldn’t enjoy the root cause. Falling in love as easily as Eric does would be too hard for Kevin to deal with. “Eric Sohn, you are one of the most selfless people in the world,” he declares. “You don’t have to do this, you know? If it hurts, you don’t.”

“No, Y/N deserves love.” Eric puts his chin on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin takes the opportunity to pat his head. “Changmin does, too, and I think they’ll find it together. God knows he was staring holes into my back while we were talking.”

Kevin thinks he’s going to melt. “You’re dumb as fuck,” he says fondly, laughing at Eric’s squawk of indignation, “but you’re sweet. Too sweet for your own good.”

“… Is that a compliment?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Kevin pulls back from his friend. “Ready to play Cupid?”

Eric nods, sadness partially replaced with mischievous fire. Kevin will take that much for now. “Yeah!”

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin doesn’t expect to be punched in the gut when he’s going with Younghoon to get a stupid cup of coffee.

Okay, no one actually punches him. But it certainly feels that way when he sees you sitting with the skater boy kid who knocked into you the other day, talking at a table by the window.

Younghoon doesn’t notice at first, just goes up to the counter to order at the (overpriced) campus Starbucks. Changmin loiters nearby, waiting for Younghoon to get his drink and come over, all the while trying to not obviously stare at you and the other kid having an animated conversation just a few feet away.

“What’s with the pout?” Younghoon asks, trying unsuccessfully to scare Changmin with his sudden presence. His own lips turning down with his failed attempt, he follows Changmin’s gaze to the two students sitting by the windows.

“I’m not pouting,” Changmin says, pout deepening.

Younghoon nearly spills his coffee, he snorts so hard. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll just pretend you’re not moping over someone you’re head over heels for whose name you don’t even know.”

If Younghoon actually spills his coffee when Changmin elbows him in the ribs, no one can tell. The look he gives the taller boy is enough to silence him for the next half an hour, at least.

He tries to focus, he really does. Though the drinks are overpriced, Changmin won’t deny that the coffee-scented air of the Starbucks is pleasant. It’s mid-afternoon, a time when most students are in class, so it isn’t too loud, either. But despite all of this, Changmin can’t focus on psychology. His eyes keep drifting over to the table by the window, where your conversation still hasn’t ended.

“Ji Changmin.” Younghoon waves a hand in front of his face after his concentration wanes for the umpteenth time. “You came here to study.”

This time, Changmin doesn’t deny the pout that settles on his lips. “I know,” he says, genuinely upset now. He wants to focus and get this studying done, he really does, but he just can’t put his mind to it.

Younghoon sighs. “Why don’t you just try talking?” he asks, eyes flickering over to where you’re still chatting animatedly with the skater boy. God, it’s been at least half an hour – haven’t you finished your drink? Why aren’t you gone yet? Why are you still here, invisibly punching Changmin in the chest every time you smile at the skater kid?

The words slip out of Changmin’s mouth before he can stop them. “What if they’re dating?”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Changmin realizes just what he’s indirectly admitted to his best friend.

Fuck.

“Well, that’s the first step.” Younghoon reaches over and pats Changmin on his slumped head. “Admitting your feelings. Proud of you, Changmin.”

Scowling, he slaps the hand off his hair, ignoring Younghoon’s yelp of indignation. “Not funny,” he whines, putting his head back down. “What if they are?” God, he should’ve helped you up before that skater boy did, run over and given you a hand first. Now skater boy’s on a date with you and Changmin feels…

Oh, God.

He’s jealous.

Shame and embarrassment flood his face at the realization. This is gross, his mind wails. Why does he feel jealous over you, someone he’s never even spoken to? The only semblance of interest you’ve given him is your initiation of the sidewalk dance. And maybe your smile.

Changmin’s pout deepens impossibly further. Actually, you probably give your lovely smile to every person you meet. He isn’t special. In fact, he’s betting that the skater kid fell for your smile too, the smile that makes it feel like stars are raining around his feet.

“Hey, earth to Changmin?” Younghoon waves a hand in front of his face. “You good?”

“No,” he replies, burying his head in his textbook again. “Leave me alone to mope.”

Younghoon just snorts, pats his head, then goes quiet, presumably back to studying. Meanwhile, Changmin doesn’t even bother to make a pretense of looking at his book anymore. He just stares into darkness.

Feelings, he decides, fucking suck.

. . .

~ you

Eric, you come to find, is a really fun guy. He might be a little awkward, but he’s clearly got a warm heart, and with every second you spend with him, you find yourself feeling more and more comfortable in his presence. With him, an entire hour and a half pass in a flash before you check your phone and realize you have class in less than ten minutes.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, hastily putting your things together. “Time passed so quickly. I didn’t keep you from doing anything important, did I?”

He just waves a hand. “Don’t worry!” The bright smile that’s been gracing his face this entire time grows even wider. “I don’t have a lot on my plate at the moment. It was fun talking to you.”

“Me, too.” You push your chair in. “Let’s do this again sometime? I’ll buy my own coffee, though.”

Eric’s grin makes him look like a puppy. You have the irrational urge to pat his head and coo. “Of course! See you later, Y/N.”

“See you.” Waving once, you exit the café, ready to head off to class.

Just outside the building, though, something makes you linger. You feel weird, like someone’s staring. Quickly, you look back through the window of the Starbucks. Eric’s still there, talking to a tall boy in one corner, but he isn’t looking at you.

Your gaze shifts, and invisible heat floods your cheeks as Ji Changmin stares back from behind the glass, seated at a table at the far end of the café.

He’s wearing glasses today, you notice blankly. They’re round, frame his eyes perfectly, and make him look god damn adorable.

Your heart flutters.

For a moment, you just stand there, rooted in place. What do I do here? you think desperately. What are you supposed to do when you’ve never actually spoken to him, only exchanged greetings in the form of weird dance steps (if they can even be called that) and, well, smiles?

Oh. Smiles.

Those work, you guess.

Slowly, you curl the corners of your lips into what you hope is a grin. It grows wider as Changmin smiles back, eyes crinkling and teeth showing as he waves to you from inside the café.

Your mood, already lightened by your conversation with Eric, skyrockets impossibly as you wave back, mouth splitting into a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

God, since when did just seeing Ji Changmin make you feel this happy?

In a moment of heightened stupidity, you point up to your eyes, drawing circles with your fingers in a motion that you hope indicates glasses. Changmin points to the frames on his face, and you nod, hands forming two thumbs ups, which your unthinking brain hopes will convey the fact that you really like how he looks with them on.

It feels like it should be impossible for Changmin’s smile to get any wider, but it does. Through the window, you watch him clap a hand to his mouth shyly, shoulders shaking slightly as he presumably laughs. It makes you laugh, too, and you wave one more time before walking away.

Then what you did actually hits you, and like that first time you stepped in Changmin’s path, you put your face in your hands and cringe as hard as your body will allow.

You really did that, you scold yourself. You really made circles with your fingers and gave him fucking thumbs ups because you liked his glasses.

You’re a fucking moron.

. . .

~ eric

When Eric walks up to Changmin’s table to talk to his friend, he immediately reevaluates his entire opinion of the doe-eyed boy.

His face is buried in the textbook when Eric starts approaching (which, first of all, mood). However, when he gets closer, Changmin lifts his head out of the pages and fixes him with the deadliest, pointiest glare that Eric has ever faced in his life.

Eric now sees why Kevin calls Changmin scary as fuck. The stare he gave when Eric crashed into you was nothing compared to this.

His eyes feel like daggers slowly slicing into Eric’s skin.

“Um.” Eric stops a couple feet away from the table Changmin’s sharing with the friend he needs to talk to. The friend looks up curiously, and Eric seizes the chance. “Can I, uh, talk to you? For a second?” he asks, desperately hoping they can get away from Changmin’s glare as soon as possible. “Please?”

The friend blinks once, then nods. “Be back in a minute, Changmin,” he says, about to stand up.

“Why can’t you talk to him here?”

Oh, God. If Eric wasn’t ready for the whiplash that came with seeing Changmin’s soft features versus his sharp glare, he really wasn’t ready for the soft tones of his voice contrasting with the venom blended in. Everything about Changmin, at first glance, screams innocence and sweetness.

What the fuck goes on behind that exterior?

“Um,” Eric stalls, desperately trying to think of an excuse. “I –”

“Don’t be rude, Changmin,” the friend cuts through smoothly, standing up. Eric immediately feels dwarfed by this guy’s long legs, but he doesn’t care as much as he normally might because he’s so glad he’s getting rescued. “Let’s go.”

The Starbucks isn’t large, but Eric follows the friend to a far corner, away from the table. Once they’re there, he clears his throat. “Um –”

“Are you dating them?” the tall guy interrupts. “The one you were here with before?”

Once the question settles in, Eric starts shaking his head violently. “No, no, I’m not. No. I just – well, I slammed into Y/N on my board, so I offered to buy coffee for us sometime to make up for it?” He tries to smile. “Not dating.”

“Oh, thank God.” The friend rubs his forehead. “Changmin was going to have an aneurysm.”

Well, that confirms that his near-death at the eyes of Ji Changmin wasn’t in vain. Relief and sadness run through Eric’s brain at the confirmation that yes, Changmin is head over heels for you. “Yeah, uh, I was actually going to ask about that.” He swallows. “Are you and Changmin close friends?”

A curious look. “Yeah, you could say that. Why?”

“Well, I don’t know if you know Kevin Moon, but he’s sick of watching Y/N and Changmin pine over each other without bothering to make a move,” Eric rushes out. He can still feel Changmin’s gaze boring holes into his skin. “But Kevin doesn’t have classes with Changmin this semester and he definitely hates my guts, so…” He sighs. God, this is harder than he thought it’d be. “Basically, are you tired of watching them pine, and do you have the time and energy to play Cupid with us?”

For a moment, Changmin’s friend just stands there, staring him right in the eyes Eric. Then a smirk spreads over his face. “Of course I do,” he says, now grinning like a god damn maniac. “Count me in.”

A breath of relief rushes out of Eric’s lips. “Thank God,” he mumbles. “Give me your number. We start plotting this weekend.”

His phone comes back to him with a new contact named Kim Younghoon in it. “Why are you doing this, anyway?” Changmin’s friend – Younghoon – asks as Eric puts the phone away. “What’s in it for you? Didn’t you only meet Y/N when you crashed?”

“Their pining is disgustingly obvious,” Eric says matter of factly. “I’ve been Kevin’s friend for years, and now I’m also Y/N’s. Why not alleviate both of their pain by getting them together?”

Younghoon looks at Eric, almost like he’s appraising him. Eric feels kind of like a bug under a microscope and he’s absolutely sure this tall guy is going to take back his agreement and call him weird before he suddenly smiles widely. “You’re cool,” Younghoon declares as though he’s just made a scientific discovery to rival Einstein’s photoelectric effect. “Looking forward to... whatever this is.”

With that, Eric ducks out of the café as fast as possible, leaving the smell of coffee and (thankfully) Changmin’s burning stares behind. Once outside, he pulls out his phone again and creates a group chat.

To: schemerz

Eric: younghoon and kevin say hi to each other

Kevin: hi younghoon

Younghoon: hi kevin

Step one of operation cupid is complete. Eric grins.

Eric: pack your bags boyz we begin scheming tomorrow

Younghoon: why do we need to pack bags

Younghoon: are we going somewhere

Okay, well, maybe this will take some time, Eric thinks, looking at Younghoon’s texts. But it can’t be that bad. You and Changmin are so obviously crushing on each other. It won’t take too much work to make get you two together, will it?

. . . . .

~ younghoon

Younghoon genuinely never knew that trying to get his best friend together with the person he likes could be this infuriating.

It’s not only that he has to continually reassure Changmin that no, skater boy – whose name is Eric Sohn, stop calling him skater boy, I can hear the “derogatory” even if you don’t say it out loud, Changmin – is not dating you, yes, he heard it with his own two ears, and yes, Eric said it with his own words. Saying this over and over, honestly, is annoying enough. Younghoon can deal with that, though. It’s just a product of Changmin’s own insecurity and lovesickness, nothing that he can control.

But actually trying to set the two of you up?

Torture.

They first devise a stroll at the mall, just to get you two to actually maybe talk. Kevin demands that this plan be put first because he cannot stop screaming over the fact that the two of you are so whipped but haven’t spoken a single word to each other ever.

Which, honestly, same. But at least Younghoon doesn’t yell about it in the group chat.

(Sometimes, looking at all of the capital letters in Kevin’s messages gives him a headache.)

The plan is to invite both you and Changmin to the mall, then ditch so the two of you will maybe actually exchange a few words with each other by the end of the day. It’s going pretty well – both of you have agreed to go, completely unaware that the other is showing up – but then you have to cancel because of a sudden quiz you need to study for the next day.

Well, fine. Younghoon just ends up shopping with Changmin for the entire afternoon (Eric still ditches for obvious reasons – cough, Changmin, cough – and Kevin has to study for the same quiz, which he curses about endlessly in the group chat for an entire day). Not a big deal. Younghoon likes clothes, and against his better judgement, he likes Changmin.

So no harm done. Besides, there’s always next time, right?

Wrong.

The university dance team has a concert coming up that Kevin begs you to go to, all under the guise of supposedly supporting one of his friends, Juyeon. When you show up at the venue, Younghoon can still tell you’re confused over why you’re there – you don’t really know Juyeon, he hears you hiss to Kevin, so what’s going on? – but you seem nice enough. Friendly enough. Younghoon likes you immediately.

This plan isn’t as straightforward as the mall-ditching one. A certain Ji Changmin is one of the best dancers on the team, so he has his own solo halfway through the show. Younghoon proposes that Kevin force you to show up so you can melt over Changmin’s performance and either profess your love right then and there (which is the ideal case) or at least compliment the dancer on his skills. Either way, it gets the two of you to talk.

So, suffice to say, Younghoon is pissed when his well thought-out, perfectly structured plan falls apart when you have to leave before the end of the entire show because your roommate needs you to do something or the other that is somehow more important than you confessing your undying love for Changmin.

(Nothing, he complains later in the group chat, could be more important than that. Not even your roommate nearly setting the whole dorm on fire. Eric might beg to disagree, but Younghoon will just tell him to beg.)

Well, it kind of works out. Your roommate’s fuckup doesn’t happen until after Changmin’s performance, and Younghoon gets a front row seat to your jaw literally dropping when he comes onstage and starts dancing the way his dance major body always does. Younghoon legitimately thinks he could pick stars out of your eyes, the way you’re staring at Changmin. And even though you have a hand over your mouth, he can easily tell you’re smiling like no tomorrow.

So Younghoon gets the satisfaction of both seeing your reaction to Changmin’s performance and telling Changmin that his crush watched him dance. The wave of shock that immediately crawls up his best friend’s face makes Younghoon want to cackle and shake his head at the same time. It gets even better when Younghoon relates the look on your face as you watched and the compliments you told him to pass on.

Changmin has never smiled that widely or that shyly, ever. As his best friend since childhood, Younghoon will attest to that. It’s amazing and offensive and slightly gross.

God, Changmin’s whipped.

But this small success doesn’t make up for half of the entire plan that failed. You and Changmin still didn’t talk, after all, even if you fell even deeper in disgusting love. So Kevin advocates for a return to the simple method of making plans and ditching.

This time, it’s a movie that the schemer line (hey, Younghoon came up with that name – he thinks it’s a damn sight better than Kevin’s “The Boyz,” regardless of what the younger boy says) plans to ditch you two at. Kevin suggests horror, mainly because he’s not going to be there to watch it, but also because of the ages-old cliché where you’ll probably get scared and hold Changmin’s hand or some shit.

(Younghoon knows it won’t be the other way around not because of some sexist idiocy, but because Changmin laughs at possession and ghosts and keeps horror movie masks in his room to scare his friends with. He thinks Annabelle and Chucky are cute. Worst case scenario, you happen to enjoy horror too, and the two of you bond over your weird interests. Which isn’t even a worst case scenario, because you two will talk, and that’s the whole point of the plan.)

They really think it’s going to work this time. Kevin reports you arriving on time to the theater and immediately runs off so you won’t see him and start asking questions like why he’s hiding behind the potted bushes outside a nearby bistro. Younghoon and Eric wait with bated breath at the campus café for any last-minute updates before Kevin gets back.

When Kevin actually shows up at the café, having taken the bus back from the theater, they’re about to celebrate a plan finally completed. Younghoon thinks he’s going to start screaming from relief.

Then a text shows up on Kevin’s phone from you, asking why he never showed up.

Panic.

When they finally get their minds together, Kevin rattles something off about a family emergency and a call he had to take, which gets you off his back for a bit. But then he asks if you actually went to see the movie anyway.

It turns out you left fifteen minutes later when no one showed up.

No one.

Meaning Changmin never got there either.

Eric slams his head on the table. Kevin looks like he’s about to explode. Younghoon himself is about to throw his drink at something when he gets a text from Changmin mere minutes later, asking where he is and why no one’s at the theater.

breadhoon: it’s so late?? why didn’t you text earlier??

qminnie: the bus was late :/// why isn’t anyone here? I know it’s not just because the theater is dark, I walked around all the seats and couldn’t find you or kevin

Kevin starts screaming.

As Eric’s shoving a yelling Kevin out of the café and apologizing to the baristas, Younghoon just fires off a quick excuse to Changmin, who’s apparently still at the theater – I’m really sorry, my dad called about something and it ran super late, just watch the movie and let me know how it is – all the while internally screaming as loudly as Kevin physically is in this moment.

Later that evening, Kevin texts the group chat with the question on all of their minds.

moon boy: how is it that all of our plans fucking failed

Younghoon just wants to jump off the top of his dorm building.

It turns out that Eric, despite being the youngest of the three of them, has the most brain cells. He proposes something so simple but with the potential to be so effective that it blows Younghoon’s mind.

“Well, if ditching them to be alone doesn’t work, we might as well just be there,” he reasons over morning cups of coffee (courtesy of Kevin, who lost rock paper scissors and is still pouting over it). “Someone throws a party, we all show up, and we can play, like, mafia. Or truth or dare or whatever. That’ll get them to interact, probably.”

It’s a beautiful plan. Younghoon hugs the younger boy and proclaims him the smartest freshman he’s ever met (“I’m pretty sure I’m the only freshman you’ve talked to this year, Younghoon.”). Kevin praises the higher beings for the seven tenths of a working brain cell that Eric holds.

They work out the details quickly. Sangyeon will host the party – he holds one every other month anyway, so it won’t be too much trouble to let him know what’s going on. Besides, his parties are usually pretty controlled, so less risk of someone doing something illegal and freaking everyone out. Younghoon, of course, will bring Changmin. Kevin will bring you and Eric. In turn, Eric says he’s going to bring his friend, Sunwoo, because, quote unquote, “I need a freshman to keep me sane after dealing with you messes of upperclassmen.”

(Well. He has a point. Younghoon may look put together, but the only things that register in his thoughts most of the time are anime and bread. Kevin doesn’t even bother looking put together, which only speaks volumes about his level of brain chaos.)

“If this doesn’t work,” Kevin declares the moment they finish hashing out the plan, “I’m going to drown myself in one of the fountains.”

“It will work,” Eric says, determined. “It has to.”

Younghoon doesn’t say anything. All of their past failures have taught him to keep his mouth shut. However, if this plan fails, he’ll gladly jump into a fountain with Kevin and inhale water up his nose.

. . . . .

~ you

“You’re not going to ditch me, are you?” you ask for the umpteenth time, narrowing your eyes once more at your (now exasperated) friend.

“No,” Kevin groans, rubbing his temples. “I’m not going to ditch you, and for the last time, there were emergencies, okay?”

You want to give them the benefit of the doubt, you really do. Especially Eric – there’s no way he would do anything malicious to you on purpose (meanwhile, if Kevin was mad enough, he just might), he’s just too sweet. But first Kevin dragged you to this dance show that you’ve never been to before, which was weird enough, and the timing for that last movie cancellation was too coincidental to not be suspicious. If it was just him cancelling, you might not question it, but none of the three showed up.

Kevin’s planning something, probably with Eric and Younghoon. You just don’t know what.

“Uh huh.” You make sure to show your disbelief in those two words as you walk up the steps to Sangyeon’s house. “Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

“It’s so big,” Eric says from behind where he’s finally caught up to you two. His friend, Sunwoo, lingers quietly at his side, though his wide eyes betray his amazement.

“I always forget how big this place is,” Kevin agrees, ringing the doorbell. “Just stay on the ground floor, though, it’s not too bad. And watch your drinks. Sangyeon’s parties are usually pretty chill, but anything could happen.”

You snort. “Yes, Mom,” you mock, just as the host himself opens the door. “Hey, Sangyeon!”

“Y/N!” He pulls you and Kevin in for a short hug, then smiles at the visibly nervous freshmen standing behind you two. “Oh, hi! You must be Eric and Sunwoo, right?”

They just nod, still awed. Kevin stifles a snort as your lips curl into a fond smile – it’s weird to remember that you used to be a freshman just like them,. There isn’t much more time to think, though, because Sangyeon quickly ushers the four of you inside and all of your thoughts drown in the party’s chaos.

A couple of hours pass in mind-numbing peace. Kevin mixes you an atrocious cocktail that you pour down the sink when he isn’t looking. You watch Jacob shake his hips on the dance floor while Kevin twerks to Beyoncé. Even Eric and Sunwoo, who were originally just hovering around you, loosen up after a shot or two and find someone else they know to talk to, a freshman whose name you’re pretty sure is Hyunjoon.

Things are going well, you think in your tipsy haze. No one’s thrown up yet, no one’s passed out (well, Felix looks pretty sleepy, but he’s a sleepy drunk – how much Jisung already managed to give him to drink, you aren’t sure), and best of all, no one’s done anything stupid that’ll go viral on the school’s Snapchat. This is nice.

Then Kevin grabs you by the wrist, done twerking, and hollers unintelligible words in your ear as he drags you to the edge of the dance floor. He says more, but all you catch is “watch” and a yelled “YOUNG BOON.” Or something like that.

Confused, you just try not to spill your drink as Kevin pushes you through the crowd that’s forming in the living room. There’s a lot of yelling and cheering as the music changes, and then someone gets pushed to the middle of the dance floor.

A hand flies to your mouth.

It’s Changmin.

“Kevin,” you hiss. “Kevin! That’s Changmin!”

Even drunk, your friend manages to give you the most judgmental look you’ve ever seen. “No shit, Sherlock,” he snaps. “Just watch!”

For a moment, Changmin just stands in the middle of the circle that’s formed, eyes wide and doe-like (and absolutely fucking adorable, even under the red lighting). Then something in him shifts – it nearly gives you whiplash – and the dancer Changmin you saw that day Kevin dragged you to the concert comes out in full force.

It’s short, his performance, much shorter than the five-minute long solo he had at the concert. But holy fuck, it’s explosive. Even the smallest flicks of his fingers seem to send off sparks of light, red glinting off his face and the buttons on his shirt.

He has you captivated, so much so that you don’t register Kevin shifting until he’s positioned almost directly behind you. Changmin’s dance is winding down, a softer look coming back into his previously focused eyes, and everyone’s cheering and starting to clap before a harsh shove sends you sprawling forward.

For a moment, you stand right in front of Changmin, eyes undoubtedly wide with confusion as the situation filters through your muddled brain. Embarrassment begins to spread through your body as people begin to chant, “DANCE! DANCE! DANCE!”

Fuck.

This must have been Kevin’s plan.

Whipping your head around, you try to find and glare at your friend (you’re seriously rethinking that title), but he’s already disappeared. You then try to shrink back into the crowd, but they don’t let you. Someone plucks the cup from your hand, erasing your last excuse for leaving the circle of screaming partygoers as you look around desperately for a way out.

Then a hand extends into your vision, fingers twitching in a gesture you’ve come to associate with a certain person at a certain time at a certain place, two ten p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays just inside the literature building.

Slowly, you look up to see Changmin shyly smiling back, eyes glinting in the way you’ve come to (not so) secretly adore.

A grin unconsciously spreads across your face as he launches back into his dance, more laid-back and flowy this time, much like the moonwalks he does down the halls at school. Almost on instinct, you lurch into his space, barely managing to brush over his foot as he nimbly steps away.

On a normal day, the dance you do is already messy and weird to passersby – you’ve made your way onto at least one of the university Snapchat stories already – so you can’t imagine how this looks in the moment. It must seem so uncoordinated, especially with your limbs loose with alcohol (Changmin still moves as steadily as ever, what the fuck) and the fact that you can’t really see where you’re stepping in the dim red light of the room. But it doesn’t matter – Changmin’s grinning so widely and you’re laughing, really laughing, loud enough to overpower what you think is Kevin’s yelling (it sounds something like “WHY ARE YOU DOING YOUR FUCKING MATING DANCE AND NOT DANCING LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?”, so it must be him), and everyone’s cheering and clapping and even though you can see a few phones being pulled out, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters is your fingers brushing against Changmin’s, his laugh ringing in your ear, and the smiles on your faces until –

Until Changmin grabs your outstretched hand, tangling his fingers in yours, and encircles your waist with his free hand before dipping you down until his face hovers just a foot above yours.

Someone’s screaming, someone that definitely sounds like Kevin, but you can’t process it. Everything feels like you’re underwater – muffled, blurred, indecipherable. All you can think of is how fast your heart is beating, how hot your face feels, and how intensely Changmin is staring into your eyes.

Holy shit.

You can barely breathe.

When Changmin eventually lets you up to screams and hoots, your knees almost buckle. If not for his fingers still entangled in yours, you probably would’ve collapsed, but he seems to sense this and grips your hand even tighter.

The smile can’t leave your face, even though it turns smaller and shyer as the crowd disperses and you’re left holding Changmin’s hand for no reason. You should let go, probably, but you don’t want to, and Changmin doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it either. Still, the physical link between you two only grows more and more obvious as the two of you stand in silence, unable or unwilling to speak.

Changmin finally breaks it. “Hi,” he says in this voice that legitimately makes you want to crumble into the ground. It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s something entirely uncharacteristic yet at the same time so fitting for the boy who just danced his heart out on Sangyeon’s living room floor. “I’m Changmin.”

Your voice leaves you, and the minute you take to find it feels like an eternity. These are your first words to him, your mind screams – don’t say anything stupid!

Staring into his sparkling doe eyes, you swallow hard before saying your first words to the boy who may or may not have already stolen your heart.

“Hi,” you say, smile threatening to grow even wider, wide enough to split your face. “I’m Y/N.”

. . .

~ changmin

He’s only heard three words from you, but Changmin thinks he could drown in your voice. It’s lovely, smooth in a way that flows over his body like warm spring rain. Willingly, he would stand under the shower of your gentle tones, putting his face to the sky and letting your words wash over him, soothing his skin.

Vaguely, his mind tells him that it’s way too early to start waxing poetic about your voice. You’ve only spoken three words to him, for fuck’s sake – what is he even doing?

A whisper that sounds suspiciously like Younghoon floats through his brain. You’re whipped.

Well. He just might be.

“Isn’t this kind of weird?” you suddenly say, jerking Changmin out of his you-induced haze. The smile on your face is a little embarrassed, now, and he catches you glancing at your fingers still linked with his. Briefly, he wonders if he should let go – he’s the one who first grabbed your hand, after all, what if you’re uncomfortable? – but you don’t seem to hate it. If anything, your smile grows a little shyer.

Changmin may think horror movie dolls are cute, but your smile is even cuter. He might melt right then and there.

Belatedly, he realizes you’re looking at him, waiting for a response. “Um – weird?” he replies, praying that his voice doesn’t crack.

(It doesn’t, not this time. Thank the lord.)

You look down again, this time at your feet. Probably out of embarrassment. “I mean,” you say, silvery voice tickling Changmin’s ears, “we’ve been interacting for at least several months.” The full force of your smile hits Changmin as you raise your head. “But we’ve barely spoken a word to each other.” When you laugh, he hears bells. “Isn’t that strange?”

“Well, when you put it that way, yeah.” Changmin giggles (yes, he fucking giggles, what the hell, why can’t he sound any cooler than he really is?). “But I think it was lucky. Well, I think I was lucky to meet you.”

He wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. He wasn’t fucking supposed to say that – what’s wrong with him? He used to be so good at watching his words – but at least, despite his embarrassment at having revealed this part of him, he gets to see you flustered. It’s adorable, he thinks, so much more adorable than anything else in the world. “How come you, um, stepped in my way that first time?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Changmin doesn’t expect the embarrassed snort that comes out of your mouth, but it makes him laugh. “You know that meme, the one where it’s like ‘why are you doing this?’ and your brain just says ‘you gotta?’” Rolling your eyes slightly, you snicker. “That’s what went through my mind. You never bump into anyone, so, well, someone had to try to mess you up.”

Changmin’s going to print a hundred copies of that meme and tape them all over his dorm. He will never be so grateful for a stinking Internet horcrux in his entire life.

Well, okay, he’s probably exaggerating. But still.

“That’s mean,” he says, purposely pouting his lips. “Why would you want to mess me up?”

You elbow his ribs, giggling. “Someone has to bring the king down at some point.”

Changmin’s about to take advantage of his current burst of confidence to respond to that – “You think I’m the king?” – and possibly fluster you even more, but someone’s yelling “LOVEBIRDS!” in a voice that sounds a little too much like Kevin’s. Both of you turn around instinctively, which probably only fuels the lovebird fire (though Changmin can’t bring himself to care at the moment).

“WE’RE PLAYING MAFIA!” someone else – is that Jaehyun? Probably – yells. “GET OVER HERE!”

“Mafia?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “That…”

Changmin can hear the exasperated apprehension in your voice. He hears it in his own whenever his friend group gets together to play the game. “Let’s just see what happens,” he suggests, trying hard not to melt when you look over at him. “Someone might do something stupid?”

Your laughter sounds like sparkles, wind chimes twinkling in the breeze. Changmin wonders what he wouldn’t give to hear it for the rest of his life. “You’re right, you’re right.” Glancing once more (and smiling a little wider) at your still-linked hands, you jerk your head in your friends’ direction. “Shall we?”

As he nods, Changmin privately thinks that there’s nothing in the world that could dissuade him from following you.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this stupid oblivious couple GOD)

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

aquarium ii | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader; ex-jungkook x reader

summary: Life after Jeon Jungkook was grey. You had to find your own color, grow your own rainbow. But what would surprise you the most is the appearance of white cosmos, seven of them clutched tightly in Kim Taehyung’s hand.

warnings: reader discretion is advised: a (half-hearted) suicide attempt; mentions of cheating in previous relationship; language; heavy angst; fluffiest fluff; non-idol!AU; kind garden-loving landlord!Taehyung x reader; ft. sadboi!Jungkook

–

part i

now playing – without me by halsey ft. JUICE WRLD

tell me, how's it feel sittin' up there? feelin’ so high, but too far away to hold me

You couldn’t remember that night very well, because you didn’t come up.

The worst part about being cheated on was not the actual cheating. It was the moment where you thought you had done something wrong, like somehow it was your fault it happened, like if you hadn’t done this or that, maybe things would have been different. Maybe if you hadn’t chosen that night to snoop into Jeon Jungkook’s phone, he would have had second thoughts, deleted it all, and loved you again. Maybe if you were a little kinder, a little more attentive, he wouldn’t have fallen out of love with you. Maybe... Maybe.

Maybe.

You knew that was just your brain trying to rationalize his irrationality. You had done wrong by invading his privacy by acting on sheer gut feeling. And you had run away, without confronting it, without giving him a chance, because you knew, you knew that if you gave him a chance, you would believe all his words, get dragged back into his sea, back into those dangerous waters.

All these thoughts coursed through you as the water closed in.

The milky bathwater was slowly replacing your depleting air, leaking into your lungs and you didn’t fight it, turning the darkness of the underside of your eyelids into light, because deep down you still loved him, no matter how stupid or foolish it was. Your heart still clung to his soft, I’m sorry, and you didn’t want to hear it anymore.

You didn’t want to know what loving Jeon Jungkook was like anymore. It was too painful.

you know i'm the one who put you up there name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?

You gave everything so he could be what he wanted to be, not knowing that you were the one slowly being eroded. No one could tell you. You were the one who had to find the signs. You were the one who found yourself trapped in glass walls, stuck in an aquarium, surrounded on all sides by Jeon Jungkook as he made a mockery of your feelings.

You screamed into the water and no one heard you.

The next memory you had was hazy, barely there.

You felt a tightness in your chest, harsh, solid pressure. A frustrated, agonized voice above you, desperately calling your name in deep baritone, desperately asking you to come back, praying in every language he knew for you to come back, come back, please, please, please.

“Please…”

In the whiteness, you wandered. Were you meant to be here? It was a loose fog. You looked around, seeing traces of memory like torn book pages, slipping through the haze. You reached out to touch them and they disappeared, only mirages.

And then you fell, dragged into dark blue, torn, battered, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat, coughing hard, your muscles screaming with asphyxiation, sudden oxygen flooding your brain. You whipped your head to the side, hacking up water, spilling it all over the green tiles of the bathroom floor, head pounding. Thoughts swimming, barely computing the shouting above you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” one voice growled above your jerking body, so venomous that it made your blood run cold. “You absolute disaster of a man, thinking for one fucking second she would even consider taking you back. Look at her! She’d rather drown herself in my damn bathtub than hold a conversation with you!”

“What the fuck do you know?” The familiar voice, the voice that haunted you in your nightmares, the voice that fed you sweet poison. “She would do anything for me! She worships the fucking ground I walk on!”

You curled up into a ball, head pounding by the sudden explosion of light and sound. There was a towel over you, covering your wet naked body, and yet you shivered. You barely registered Kim Taehyung snarling, rising to his feet.

“You narcissistic bastard,” Taehyung spat out. “Get the fuck out of my house. Get the fuck out and don’t ever come near her again or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

“You can’t do anything to me. You’re a nobody,” Jeon Jungkook taunted. “Unlike you, I actually have money to sue you for assault.”

Apparently, Taehyung did not give a single shit, because he immediately roared and launched himself past you, the brown ball slamming into the black wall. You blinked, trying to register what was happening, but it was too much for you and your brain that was slowly trying to restore function due to lack of oxygen. They tumbled down the stairs and you laid your head against the floor, hearing the grunts and shouting, wondering why Taehyung had come back.

Wondering how he knew.

You closed your eyes.

In your dreams, you saw the soft sunlight glowing against Taehyung’s tan skin as he reached down to retrieve a dark green cucumber to show you. It was a bit wonky and hadn’t grown quite right, but you watched Taehyung tap it and smile to himself.

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like on the outside,” he said cheerfully. “I know it will still taste delicious because I gave it love.”

You tried to go back to work, but it was awful.

You loved your work. Perhaps it was boring to others, accounting all day, but it was mundane and peaceful, always knowing what you had to do. You never had to question the numbers. The numbers were what they were and that was that.

But now when you stared out into the grey urban jungle, it pained you.

What once was your safe haven turned into your cage, chaining you to clock in, clock out. You would go home to a motel nearby, crying into unfamiliar, starched sheets, pitying housekeepers preparing your meals, asking you what was wrong and you couldn’t tell them.

Because you didn’t know.

i'm sad inside, but i know it's for the best, right? you had to realize where you drew the line

You didn’t check his social media. You didn’t check his Twitch, his Instagram, his Twitter. You got a new phone, only giving your new number to your work and your parents. With a start, you realized you hadn’t contacted your old high school friends in years. You had lost them all, committing social suicide for Jeon Jungkook. In fact, you had no social media presence, so there was no need to download those apps.

There was nothing on your old phone that you wanted. It sat in the storage unit, forgotten. You didn’t want to turn on your old phone to see the photos, the lock screen of his arms around you, smile on his face from two years ago.

A smile you didn’t even know was real or fake.

i still hate it when you’re not there

You tried to tell yourself you were fine, because moping over Jeon Jungkook was stupid. But you had invested so much. You had given him everything. It was hard to regrow. You were stuffed in this tiny motel room, staring out to the hazy, polluted city, yellow sunlight fighting to be seen.

You sat by the window, clutching your pink flats, remembering Taehyung’s last words to you before you left.

“I looked up the brand and bought you some new ones,” he had said sheepishly. “I felt bad that they got so ruined, all because I asked you to help me with the garden.” He gave you that big, boxy smile. “Just think of them as a parting gift for being such a great tenant.”

You inhaled a deep breath, placing the pale pink flats next to the exact same style but grass-stained, greyed-out, worn ones. You stared at them both.

And made a choice.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

You lifted your head. The scent of flowers, so familiar and comforting, wafted around you, a reassuring embrace. You were wearing a long-sleeved white dress, a brown ribbon around the collar. The pink flats, the ones the owner of the deep baritone voice had gifted you.

That was nearly six months ago now. You had since thrown away the other ones.

Kim Taehyung walked up to you. He was wearing brown overalls and a cream shirt, elbows smeared with dirt. His skin had lightened due to the passing winter, but it was spring now. The flower shop was very busy, but there were other employees, and Taehyung was fixated on you.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Taehyung said quietly, his brown eyes shimmering. “I would have come here a lot more often if I knew.”

You bit you lip and bowed your head politely, smiling at him. Taehyung coughed and rubbed the back of his head, messing up his dark brown hair. It was longer and curlier now, desperately needing a trim.

“I… I came to get carnations. The shop I normally go to ran out.”

You nodded, leading him wordlessly to the red and pink carnations. There was still a good number left, but you had to pick through carefully to find the most beautiful ones for him. He watched you work, chewing on his lip. You held up the large bouquet to him.

“What do you think?” you asked softly.

He smiled at you. “Perfect.” He didn’t ask the price. “Could you make two corsages out of a few of them?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

You brought him to one of the counters, selecting a few blooms to make the corsages. You showed him the available ribbons and he picked a thin, sheer white one. He watched you work, quickly, but delicately, careful not to bruise the petals.

“You became an expert about flowers,” he remarked. “I’m still struggling.”

You smiled. “I’m still learning. It’s very different from what I used to do.” You twisted the ribbon into a perfect bow, using floral wire to secure it.

“You don’t talk to him anymore, do you?”

You shook your head. “Haven’t seen him since that day you threw him down your stairs.”

Taehyung laughed a little too loud, making the patrons stare at him. He coughed nervously, cramming the crumpled brown hat under his arm onto his head. You placed your hand over your lips, trying to hide your chuckle. Your fingertips smelled like phloem sap from the cut stems, sweet and grassy.

Taehyung gazed at you, surrounded by flowers, carnations laid out on the counter.

“Will you… let me take a picture of you?”

You blinked at him, lips parting.

Taehyung reached into his pocket, pulling out an old 35mm film camera. He looked sheepish as he held it up, hesitating.

“Sorry, I just… you look so beautiful, and I don’t want to forget that.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I know it’s a weird habit. But I like to take pictures and I never took one of you.” He looked deep into your eyes.

“I really regret not taking a picture of you.”

Your fingers were still over your mouth. You nodded.

Taehyung held the camera up and snapped a photo.

“He waits for you to get off work every day. It’s been a week now.”

The manager was teasing you, nudging your arm as you tugged on your long camel coat. You smiled at her, an old woman with knowing eyes that had seen and enjoyed a lot of life. Taehyung waved across the street as you made eye contact with him.

“There aren’t men like him anymore, you know,” she said gently. “These kinds of things happened in my generation, but now young people send pictures of flowers instead of the real thing.”

When you thanked the manager and walked out to Taehyung, he held out a small bundle of tiny flowers to you. White cosmos. You stopped, surprised. Breathless as you looked up at him. He was illuminated by a streetlight and the dying sun, the golden hour matching his golden skin. Holding out the white cosmos, shivering in the spring breeze.

“They’re not that pretty,” he said guiltily, stepping up to you. “I’ve been trying to grow flowers for months now and these are the only ones that survived, ahahaha…”

He scratched his head, brushing his hair back.

“I always hoped that if I saw you again, I could show you that I was able to finally grow flowers.” Taehyung laughed, shrugging apologetically. “This is all I got.”

You reached out and took the small bundle from him. They were a bit curled and slightly wilted from being carried around but you smiled at them.

“No one has ever grown flowers for me,” you said quietly.

The tiny yellow centers of each flower were surrounded by white. You counted seven. Taehyung had given you seven flowers. Seven flowers he grew on his own, because he wanted to show you. You placed your fingers on your mouth, the scent of the floral shop returning to you with the action. Your chest felt tight and full, a feeling unlike any other.

“I wanted to grow at least eight,” Taehyung lamented. “Because that would be luckier, but…”

You shook your head quickly, looking up at him. Him and his beautiful brown eyes, a small patch of dirt underneath his cheek. He probably didn’t even know it was there.

“No.”

You removed your hand from your lips and smiled at him.

“Seven is perfect.”

You threw your hands around him and hugged him tightly.

When Jeon Jungkook saw you again, everything was different.

He was distracting himself from school. University was much harder than he thought, especially since he didn’t attend right after high school to pursue his streaming career.

For a long time, he had someone to take care of him, first his mom and then you. Someone to do everything so he could recklessly chase his dreams. But things were different now. He had to suddenly become an adult. It wasn’t because of you. You hadn’t told anyone what happened.

But everyone knew.

One girl had let it slip, and then another and another, and then screenshots were plastered everywhere, all over the internet for anyone to see, not knowing the context, tossing judgements left and right. His parents found out and then his friends, everyone disappointed in him, not surprised that you vanished without a trace. He had to vanish too, every sponsor cutting ties with him immediately, not asking if it was true or not. It was bad for business to be associated with something like that.

Jungkook really regretted it now, but there was nothing he could do to take it back.

That’s why he was sitting in this tiny, one room apartment, using what was leftover from his streaming money to get a degree, saving every penny to his education. At least he hadn’t been so reckless to overspend. You hadn’t let him, always reminding him to save for his future, using your own income to pay for the necessities.

Even now, you were helping him.

Every once in a while, Jungkook would type variations of your old Instagram username into the search bar, wondering if you had ever set it up again. He had asked you to delete it, since you had been getting constant DMs from guys asking you out, sending you unsolicited dick pics. You had agreed, even through you could have fought him or simply privated it.

You had deleted it, Jungkook knew now, because he asked you and you loved him.

It hurt to know that you loved him so dearly and he was too busy feeding his own ego to see it.

When Jungkook saw you again, you were surrounded by flowers.

Your profile picture was a close up shot of your beautiful face, golden sun against your skin, a white cosmos tucked behind your ear. He knew it was you. He could tell by the shape of your lips, the contours of your eyes, even through your eyes were closed. Wearing a white dress, the ruffles fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook was breathless, seeing you again. He scrolled through your pictures. They were mostly of flowers, with captions of how to grow them. Were you a florist now? Some of them were of you in different dresses, surrounded by blue sky and green summer. The smile on your face was so dazzling that he wondered who gave you that smile.

His heart wrenched uncomfortably in his chest.

Or maybe it wasn’t a someone.

There was a time when that smile was his. There was a time when he could make you smile like that, your lips saying his name breathlessly – “Jungkook, Jungkook, look at this!” – showing him something silly or giving him his favorite banana milk with special edition packaging, saying how cute it was, just like him.

He blinked and a droplet fell onto his phone.

Right on your smiling face, hand holding a large straw hat, your pink dress fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook wiped it away, swiping at his tears with the sleeve of his black sweatshirt, wondering why had he taken that smile for granted, why he had drifted away from the safe coast, why he had thought, even for a second, that the days and nights you spent cleaning after him meant that you were keeping yourself busy and away from him, not seeing it for what it was, not seeing that it was your love for him and his own sloppiness that left him here now, staring at your summer as his summer was torn from him by textbooks and lectures.

He shuddered, still looking at the pictures, not wanting to miss a moment, even if they weren’t his moments anymore.

One of your pictures was a bundle of seven white cosmos, a little wilted and sad-looking.

Jungkook read the caption.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re beautiful. Because there is someone out there who thinks you are. They use every resource they know to give you love, even if it’s clumsy at first. Even if you don’t think you need it or want it.

The tears were really coming now, streaming down his cheeks as Jungkook asked himself why, why did he give this up?

They celebrate you and your love instead of simply tolerating it.

You sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the side.

Your pink flats were right beside you, and your arms were resting on the wooden fence. The ocean breeze was strong here, salty and cold. But you didn’t feel the cold, because Kim Taehyung had wrapped a thick wool blanket around you two. It was already night, but by the seaside it was still chilly, even in the summer, due to the sea breeze.

He peeled the foil back on a roasted sweet yam, taking off some of the skin so you could bite into it. You tried to take it from him but he shook his head, frowning at you. You laughed and took a bite, scalding your mouth from how hot it was. But it still tasted good.

“I asked my parents if I could have it.”

You looked up at him, trying to blow the steaming air from your mouth in attempt to cool off.

“The cottage?”

Taehyung nodded, taking a bite and wincing. “You’ll never guess what they said.”

You smiled. “What did they say?”

He scowled. “Then pay rent!” He waved a hand to the seaside house behind you two. “They own it! Why do I have to pay rent? I’m their son!”

You giggled, hiding your mouth behind you hand. Taehyung angrily bit into the sweet yam again and choked, forgetting how hot it was. Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter, falling back onto the grass, wool softening your fall. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you, shaking the yam furiously. The white moonlight glinted off the silver foil. He puffed his cheeks and sighed as your laughter faded out.

You looked up at the stars, realizing how clear the sky was here.

It was nothing like the city.

Even in darkness, the white stars shone against the black, bright and clear. You wouldn’t have seen them if you weren’t here, on your back and looking up at them.

“Anyway, they only said it was a hundred won, so I guess that’s fine,” Taehyung grumbled. “Really made me worried there for a second, sheesh.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You going to live here?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“No, you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. He rewrapped the yam, determining it was too hot to eat right now. He gazed down at you, smiling a little.

“It’s better than that one room you have in that house. Safer too.”

You chewed on your lip. “But I can’t pay the amount I paid when I rented it…”

Taehyung poked you with the yam. “Weren’t you listening? The rent is a hundred won. No, two hundred for you, since I have to make some profit.”

He laid down next to you, eye to eye now, smile getting bigger.

“Although I hear there’s this annoying gardener that comes around every day caring for the plants.”

You were smiling now too, drawn by his cheeky, boxy grin.

“Really? I think he’s pretty cute. I think that’s how he gets away with it.”

His brown eyes locked with yours.

“Will you let me care for you too?”

The sound of the sea, crashing into the rockface, constructing a new memory for you.

“I know you’ll be much harder than a plant,” Taehyung murmured quietly. “Sorry, that’s a dumb thing to say, I meant–”

You pressed your lips against his, cold air chilling your cheeks, warmth spreading throughout your soul.

When you pulled away, breathless, Taehyung was staring at you, eyes wide. Those three words came to you, words that you thought you were never going to say again, words you had for someone else, but you knew this was the right one, the perfect flower.

The one who struggled to grow seven flowers.

White cosmos.

Just for you.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung.”

The next summer.

Seven flowers. White cosmos, bright, glowing, perfectly shaped. Surrounding your left hand. The ring finger held a princess-cut diamond surrounded by six tiny small ones like petals.

The caption.

He grew them perfectly this time.

Jeon Jungkook sighed heavily, placing his phone back in his pocket. The noise around him was loud, clattering and chattering, now a familiar atmosphere. The black bucket hat was low over his eyes, shrouding them. He pulled his face mask higher, hiding his features, not wanting to be recognized. Internet shame was enough; he didn’t need public shame as well. He already had to switch universities because of it.

Jungkook placed his hand back onto the subway rail, shouldering his backpack, staring out the train window at the black tunnel.

masterpost

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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marvelmusing · 3 years

Text

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 5

Series Masterlist • My Masterlist

“There's nothing, sir.” The analyst says, looking up from the computer to inform you and Mobius.

“Have you used the magnified nexus threshold?” You ask him. Mobius nods in agreement.

“That one should be setting off alarms if somebody steps on the wrong leaf.”

“Wherever they are, I'm not sure anything survives.” The analyst argues.

“Yeah. Don't underestimate them. You see anything down at Roxxcart? They're gone. Leaping across time, plotting their next massacre.” You glance over at Mobius. He seemed a little shaken by whatever Renslayer told him after her meeting with the Time-Keepers. B-15 stops beside Mobius,

“Any news on C-20?” She asks. Mobius doesn’t look at her as he answers,

“No.”

“We need to find them.” She insists, her gaze fixed on the timeline in front of you.

“We will.” Suddenly an analyst perks up.

“We've got something. Temporal lock.” Everyone watches the timeline as a branch extends from the main line, faster than you’ve ever seen before.

“Okay, that's not someone stepping on the wrong leaf.” Mobius comments.

“You ever seen a branch like that?” You ask the two of them. B-15 shakes her head faintly.

“No.”

You spend the morning gathering paperwork for Mobius. You organise all the mission reports regarding the Loki Case and before long Mobius arrives to collect them.

“Thanks [Y/N].” He scoops the files up from your desk. You smile up at him.

“No problem. How’s it going with Loki?” He sighs, leaning against your desk beside you.

“I don’t know. He seems quite defensive, so I’ve left him in a Time Cell.” You nod.

“What’s he said?” He laughs softly.

“He said the TVA’s lying to me. Obviously some kind of lie he’s trying to spin.” You nod again, lost in thought. “You alright?” You glance back at him.

“Yeah, of course.” He pushes himself away from your desk, adjusting his grip on the files.

“I’d better get this to Renslayer.”

“If you need anything, I’ll be here.” He nods,

“I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

It isn’t long before Mobius is back. He’s striding through the cubicles, heading straight for your desk.

“Come with me.” Is all he says. Which is all it takes for you to stand up and follow him. You’re both quiet as you make your way to the archives. Mobius finds a deserted corner, and tucks the two of you away behind a row of shelves.

“What’s going on?” You whisper, as you watch him pull a TemPad out of his pocket.

“I’m not sure yet.” You watch the screen as he scans through the most recent files.

“That’s not your-“

“It’s Ravonna’s.” You look up at him sharply. He looks a mix of anxious and excited, like he goes when he’s close to a breakthrough on a case. You look back at the screen when something starts playing. It’s a video of C-20. The hunter that was enchanted by the variant.

“You're not hearing me. I was there. This was real, what I saw. This is a place that I've been. This wasn't the TVA. This was a memory. I lived down there. I went to that bar. I had friends. I had a whole life on the Sacred Timeline.”

“Calm down.” You hear Renslayer say to her.

“Calm down? I'm a Variant. So are you. So is every single person in this place.”

“I'm ending this.” The video ends, the face of Renslayer paused as she stops the recording. You look back at Mobius.

“Ravonna said C-20 was dead. That the variant had scrambled her mind.” He tells you.

“She seemed pretty upset. But not scrambled.” You say. He nods,

“I think Loki was right.”

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know. But I know where to start. I’ll go get Loki, you get Sylvie.”

“Sylvie?”

“The other Loki variant, that’s her name.” You nod. The two of you make your way out of the archives. You spilt up, Mobius going to Loki, you going to find Sylvie. You approach the time theatre where Sylvie is being kept, before asking the hunters on guard to let you in for an interrogation. The hunter closest to you offers his baton, which you accept with a smile. As the doors open, you see a woman sat on one of the chairs in the centre of the room. Her hair is slightly damp, and her legs are propped up on the desk in front of her. She glances at you as you enter the room. Once the door is closed you say to her,

“I’m a friend of Loki’s. I’m going to get you out of here.” She looks up at you in surprise, though before she can respond the door opens. You spin around to see Renslayer stepping into the room. She takes one look at Sylvie before saying,

“Who else was in here with her?”

“Sorry, ma'am, B-15 insisted.” One of the hunters responds.

“Put out an alert for Hunter B-15. She too has been compromised by the Variant.”

“She too? Who else has been compromised?” You ask her, feigning innocence and praying that Mobius is safe. She gives you an unwavering look.

“Agent Mobius. He unfortunately became very unstable, and was consequently pruned.” The baton in your grasp trembles.

“Pruned?” You repeat quietly. Not Mobius. Please, no. The hunters move forward to seize Sylvie and you use that to your advantage. You slam your baton into the back of his head, before swinging at the other one beside you. Once they’re on the floor, you twist the baton, the end glowing as you lunge at Renslayer. But she’s too quick. She dodges. Grabbing your baton, and using your momentum to push you against the wall. Holding the baton in both hands, she pushes it against your throat. You squirm and struggle against her. One of the hunters forces a time collar around your neck, then you’re reversed to back where you were a minute ago. The hunter hands the time twister to Renslayer who takes it with a smirk. Hot tears of frustration and grief flood down your face. You attempt another lunge at her,

“You little bit-“ You’re reversed backwards in an instant. A small sob wracks you as you stare at her. “He trusted you!” She turns back to the hunters.

“Let’s take them both to the Time-Keepers.” The hunters grasp ahold of you and Sylvie, and March you down the corridors, towards the elevator leading to the Time-Keepers. You hold your head high, despite the tears staining your cheeks. As you reach the elevator the hunters stop. You hear Sylvie whisper an,

“Are you okay?” To which he nods faintly. You glance over at Loki. He returns your gaze.

“[Y/N], I’m so sorry.” He whispers, looking as heartbroken as you felt. You swallow hard,

“It’s not your fault Loki.” You tell him.

“I’ve got them from here.” Renslayer tells the hunters, who then let go of you and leave. The four of you step into the elevator. After a small conversation between Sylvie and Renslayer, which makes you hate her even more, the elevator doors open and you step out to meet the Time-Keepers.

“Gracious Time-Keepers, as promised, the Variants.”

“After all your struggle, at last, you've arrived before us. What do you have to say for yourselves before you meet your end, Variants?” The Lizard in the middle says, looking down at the three of you. Loki speaks first.

“Is that the only reason you brought us here? To kill us? I've lost track of the number of times I've been killed, so go ahead. Do your worst.”

“You and your bravado are no threat to us, Variant.” Sylvie shakes her head.

“Oh, no, I don't think you believe that. I think...” As she steps forward Renslayer reverses her back, but she continues, “I think you're scared.”

“No, Variant. You're nothing but a cosmic disappointment. Delete them.”

“No, I'm not done with you yet.” There’s a buzz, then your time collar drops to the ground. You look at door to see B-15 with Sylvie’s sword in hand.

“For all time. Always.” She says, throwing the sword to Sylvie which she catches.

“Protect the Time-Keepers!” Renslayer orders. Then the fighting breaks out. You manage to fight off a few of the Time-Keepers guards, though Sylvie and Loki do most of the work. You watch as Sylvie throws her sword at the Time-Keepers, swiping the head of one of them. With a crackle of electricity, the head bounces along the steps to land in front of Loki.

“Fake. Mindless androids. It never stops.” Sylvie throws the head down angrily.

“Then who created the TVA?” Loki asks.

“I thought this was it.” The two of them appear to be having some kind of moment, so you look away. Only to be grabbed by a guard who’s regained consciousness. As you push him away you notice Renslayer advancing towards Loki. You cry out his name in warning but it’s too late. Loki disappears in a fizzle of sparks. Sylvie charges at Renslayer, seizing her baton and pushing her against the steps. You stand at Sylvie’s side with your baton raised.

“Do it.” Renslayer goads.

“No.” You say.

“You’re going to tell us everything.”

Tagslist: @n0obmaster69 @mackycat11 @wibblywobblyjeremybearimy @boriqs @aloisia @fandom-lover-4 @lam-ila @momos-peaches @gracey07 @morganwilliams @greeneyedblondie44

If you’d like to be tagged just ask!!

#agent mobius x reader #mobius m mobius x reader #mobius imagine #mobius m mobius #mobius mcu #mobius x reader #mobius loki #agent mobius #loki 2021 #marvel x reader #marvel fics

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

Text

feel something pt 1 - jj

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight), Topper x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I accidentally deleted this, ugh sorry if you see this again!! I started off wanting to write a supremely angsty one shot, turned into a supremely angsty multi-chapter fic. This is a slow burn, babyy. Here’s the set up, let me know what you think! :)

series masterlist

You stand teetering on the edge of the balcony railing, barefoot and facing the waves as they crash onto the beach. You’re not thinking about jumping. At least you’re pretty sure you won’t actually jump. Really you’re just looking for even a flicker of an emotion to stir up in your chest. Lately you haven’t felt anything more than mild annoyance at your parent’s constant bickering and pestering. You know you’re too young, but all you feel anymore is numb. You lift your left leg, balancing precariously on the right for a minute before lowering it and returning to the balcony and slipping your heels back on.

You don’t want to die, you just don’t want to live like this. Kook princess, paraded and practically pimped around by your parents, looking for you to find an advantageous marriage, have 2.5 kids and further accumulate your hoarded wealth. “Why don’t you date the Cameron boy? He’s quite good looking and your father would love it if you married his business partner’s son” and “The Thornton boy would be a good match, the family mansion is the largest” and “Jacob Kane’s father is a name partner at a successful law firm on the mainland”. Your mother’s incessant nagging about finding the perfect husband only further cements your lack of value as a human being, your usefulness tapped out at your ability to be someone’s wife.

You don’t understand the wealth accumulation thing, your trust fund probably equals the national budget of a small country already, and there’s no way anyone could blow through the entire family fortune in a single generation. At this point, it just feels like generating wealth for the sake of generating it. What good is money if it just sits in a bank account or investment portfolio, earning passive income and not being used for anything.

You recognize you’re very privileged, you’ve never once had to worry about where your next meal would come from, you have a closet full of designer handbags and red bottom shoes the value of which could feed several families on the Cut. But what’s the cost? You feel suffocated by the pressure bestowed upon you by your parents. You’re the eldest sibling, primary heiress to the Y/L/N family fortune and expected future successor of the family business. Truthfully, you couldn’t give less of a fuck about retail development or whatever it is that keeps your father so busy that he missed every single one of your piano and ballet recitals growing up. You like the idea of studying Shakespeare’s sonnets and soliloquies over learning about mergers and acquisitions and tax avoidance laws at college, but you know your father would sooner cut you off than let you pursue your own passions.

Sometimes you let yourself fantasize about leaving it all behind, running off to some college like Columbia, moving to New York and living in the city that never sleeps. With your 4.0 GPA and stellar extracurricular activities, you could probably get a pretty good scholarship. Or maybe Paris, where you would sit in a cute little café flirting with French boys and writing poetry by the Seine River. But it would be hard, and you’re too much of a coward to see if you could make it on your own without daddy’s money. Not to mention the little voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your mothers telling you that you’ll never amount to anything without their help.

Later, you’re wandering the party, both hands curled tightly around the cup you hold to your lips, eyes staring out at the crowd over the rim. Unfortunately, you catch Rafe Cameron’s eye as he’s sat around the coffee table with a freshly cut white line ready on the surface. He’s surrounded by the idiots he calls friends and more than one pretty little rich girl making eyes at him. The left corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk as he realizes you’ve sized up the company around him.

“Hey Y/L/N, want a line? First one’s on me, babe.” He calls out at you, but you just roll your eyes and keep moving forward. As desperate as you are to feel something, you’re not sure you can cross that line just yet. Partaking in the occasional joint or bong rip is one thing, but hard drugs is another. You don’t think trading in the empty feeling in your chest for an addiction is worth it. Seeing the blown out pupils of some of your peers, and the way they not-so-discreetly sniff and wipe at their noses you realize you’re likely alone in that assessment. “Your loss!” he calls out at your retreating form, and you don’t even bother to look over your shoulder. You know he’s not really interested in you beyond making you a customer and maybe a quick fuck.

You snort to yourself, wondering what your mother would think about the boy she wanted you to pursue offering you a line of coke at a party. Knowing her, she would focus on the fact that you had gained his attention and ignore the illicit substance.

Making your way through the cluster of bodies is harder than you had initially thought, everyone was on everyone. Every kook party ends up this way, a certain subset of the group coked out and the rest so drunk they can’t function, and you begin to wonder why you even bothered coming.

You’re not totally sure what you’re looking for, your best friend and Rafe’s younger sister Sarah doesn’t really associate with this crowd anymore ever since she started spending all her time with the less fortunate side of the island. Rafe had called it ‘slumming with those dirty fucking pogues’ the last time Sarah had partied with you. Maybe it isn’t right to call her your best friend anymore because not only does she not associate with this crowd, she doesn’t really associate with you either.

You know she’s hanging with Kie again, there are a lot of watchful eyes on the island and even more flapping lips. It’s kind of ironic, Sarah was the one who convinced you to drop Kie, and you had let her. Now the two of them were spending all their time together on some dilapidated boat named after the inhabitants of the Cut and you were alone at some lame party with a heavy weight on your chest and under your eyes.

Sighing deeply, you down the rest of the contents of your cup and grab a refill before turning your attention back to the crowd of people in the middle of the living room. As your brain starts to fog further with the familiar feeling four vodka crans give you, you let Topper put his hands on your hips and pull your bodies close together, your back to his front. A voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’re supposed to feel guilt over Sarah’s ex’s hands all over your body, but you don’t feel anything and Sarah clearly doesn’t give a fuck about you either.

The next morning you wake up with Topper’s hands around your bare waist. There’s a pain radiating against your skull and you have cotton mouth, but you quietly gather your clothes and sneak out of the room before the sleeping blonde can wake up and give you that regretful look he gets in his eyes every time you hook up. You know he still loves Sarah, in his own fucked up way and though you don’t regret where you woke up, you know you’ll just be annoyed if you have to deal with his issues this early in the morning with this bad of a hangover.

You’ve almost successfully left the large mansion, quietly walking through the living room to the front door when a voice remarks dryly, “Really, y/n? I thought you were better than my sister’s leftovers.”

Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth sharply, you spin on your heel to face Rafe with a blank expression on your face. He sits at the kitchen island, bare-chested with his hat on backwards, casually eating a bowl of cereal. The thought of why exactly Rafe is sitting half naked in Topper’s kitchen, eating Topper’s cereal briefly flashes through your mind but you decide you don’t care. “What do you care Rafe?” you ask, only half interested in his response. There’s a moment of silence, and you pick at your fingernails rather than meet his gaze.

“I’m just saying, I thought you were better than that,” he shrugs, bringing another spoonful to his mouth.

You roll your eyes, already tired of the conversation, “And who, pray tell, is better for me?”

“Me of course,” he smirks at you, and you huff out an annoyed laugh and raise an eyebrow silently asking him to explain. “Come on princess, I know your parents want you to marry up. ‘m your best option on this island”.

Mildly annoyed, you roll your eyes and turn back towards the front door, eager to leave this conversation behind. “C’mon baby, we both know how this thing ends, with you on my arm as the perfect trophy wife.”

There was a time those words might have brought butterflies in your stomach. Growing up best friends with Sarah meant you also grew up with Rafe, and you used to have the biggest crush on him. Forbidden by Sarah after a late night game of truth or dare, you didn’t use to mind when your mother would spout off about Rafe being the perfect boy for you. He used to look out for you like he did for Sarah. But that was a long time ago, and he no longer cared about either of you anymore and you had to admit you couldn’t remember why you had ever thought him anything but repulsive. That was before the drugs and the untethered rage that always rests just under the surface of his skin, ready to be unleashed at the smallest slight. You might have married the little boy with the gap toothed smile who once punched Jacob Kane when you were in the second grade and he wouldn’t stop bothering you, but this Rafe wasn’t good for anything beyond a quick meeting in the dark.

If you had been able to feel anything, you might have snapped back at him, but you had no energy and honestly all you wanted was to shower in your own shower and collapse in your own bed, so you ignored his comment and slipped out the door.

It was a quick walk back to your house, and you snuck in quietly through the front door hoping no one was home and your dreams of slumbering until the early afternoon could be realized. Unfortunately, your mother sat on the cream colored chaise in the sitting room, clearly anticipating your arrival. Her eyes quickly scanned your appearance, your manolos held by the straps in your right hand, your sex hair and décolletage you were sure was covered in bites and bruises caused by overeager lips, before sighing.

“Y/n, darling, you have to stop this silly behaviour and settle down. Boys aren’t going to want to lock you down if they’ve already had you.” She criticizes, effectively slut-shaming you. You roll your eyes at that, briefly wondering if the old wives tale was true and you’d end up with your eyes stuck like that. You decide you don’t mind, it would save you some time as your base reaction to most interactions is to roll them.

“I had a rough night mom, I’d like to go back to bed,” you tell her as you try to slip past her. A cold hand circles your wrist, stiletto tipped manicure digging slightly into the skin stopping you from moving any further.

“I’m serious, y/n, you’re better than this.” She throws the same words Rafe had at you. Exasperated and exhausted you rip your wrist from her grasp and head to the stairs. “We’re not done talking about this!” she shouts but you ignore her and continue towards your nice shower and bed.

Rolling over to an empty bed several hours later, you grumble as you try to identify the source of your wakeup call. Cursing as you smack your arm against your side table, you finally manage to grab your ringing cell phone. Seeing RC flash as the contact calling, you groan loudly, before hitting the decline button and rolling back over. A minute later your phone chimes again, indicating a voice mail.

You figure there’s no point in drawing out the inevitable, so you unlock the phone and listen the voicemail Rafe left. He’s invited you to hang out with him and his friends on his dad’s yacht. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’ve sent him a text to say you’d be there in an hour. Despite there being no love lost between you and Rafe, you really don’t have any better options and maybe if you tell your mom who you’re hanging out with she’ll get off your back and not subject you to The Lecture. You and Sarah used to laugh and joke about The Lecture, about how being a Y/L/N means being perfect and obtaining a perfect husband. The two of you would mock your mother, exaggerating her southern drawl that slipped out as she lectured you on the importance of propriety and ‘leaving something to the imagination’.

As you slip on a navy sundress with a deep neckline, you laugh, thinking to yourself that there’s not much left to leave to the imagination. You take the time to curl the ends of your hair to create a bouncy wave and apply a few coats of waterproof mascara and lip gloss. The humid heat of the OBX keeps your makeup routine light in the summer.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Shit. Your dad’s home, he knows you stayed out all night, and he’s pissed. You don’t think your mom told him the full story, because he’s not frothing at the mouth mad, just his typical disappointed mad.

“Rafe invited a couple of friends to hang out on his dad’s yacht, daddy,” you reply back, not meeting his eyes.

You can tell your dad disapproves, because the lines between his eyebrows are more pronounced with his narrowed eyes. As he starts to give you what you’re sure is an impassioned lecture, your mother pops up out of nowhere, gushing, “Rafe? Well of course you can go sweetie, isn’t that right hon?” she turns to your dad, a single eyebrow raised daring him to defy her. Your parents are the ultimate power couple, wielding power and guilt over each other almost as easily as they try to do to you.

He sighs, realizing the fight with his vengeful wife isn’t worth the lesson you’re not going to learn anyway and nods, “Alright, just be back for supper, we’re going to sit down as a family tonight. And tell Sarah we said hi.”

If either parent noticed your stiffened back, they don’t comment on it. You hadn’t told them that Sarah dumped you like yesterday’s news just yet. Why blow a perfect cover story? Again, the lack of guilt should probably concern you, but you’re more focused on the very expensive, very good quality wine that you know is waiting for you on the Cameron’s yacht.

An hour later, you’re sitting between a very uncomfortable Topper and a disinterested Kelce with a full wineglass in your left hand. Your right hand slides your sunglasses back onto your eyes to shield them from the harsh sunlight that beats down directly on your face.

You can’t find the energy to strike up a conversation with either of them, and they don’t seem very inclined to start one either, so you turn your head to the side and look out at the water until you see a familiar beat up boat approaching. You visibly tense as your eyes lock on your blonde former best friend laughing with her arm around John B as their stupid friends talk and laugh around them. “You okay, y/n?” Kelce finally speaks, noticing your change in posture.

“Never better,” you drily reply moving to turn your head back to the other side of the yacht, as if the other boat on the water didn’t exist at all. Your eyes briefly flicker to the other blond on the boat, taut muscles on display beyond the ratty cut-off tank top as the pogue known as JJ attempts to wrestle with his friend Pope. You feel a drop in your stomach that perplexes you as your eyes scan his sunkissed skin. Startled, you turn your head quickly and take a huge sip of your wine.

You anticipated some sort of confrontation, maybe a thrown insult, but their boat simply eclipsed the yacht and they continued on their way. You were annoyed by the concerned look that Kelce threw your way after they had left, so you downed your glass and grabbed Rafe’s hand and all but dragged him inside the cabin.

The second the door shuts behind you, you’re on him, mouths mashing in a hungry kiss. He smirks against your mouth and leads you into the bathroom and proceeds to rid you of your clothes.

As you’re letting Rafe Cameron fuck you in the bathroom of his yacht, your mind can’t help but think you’re fucking over Sarah, too.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he praises in your ear as he thrusts into you from behind. You don’t even have the energy to fake a moan, you just lean your head back against his shoulder.

When he’s finished, you simply slip your dress back on, refill your glass and sit back between Topper and Kelce as if they didn’t just hear you hook up with their best friend.

You go to bed early that night after a “nice family dinner” that consists of back-handed compliments and your mother fishing for details about your time on the yacht. You don’t think she’d be too pleased about letting Rafe ‘have you’ before ‘locking you down’, so you keep it to a minimum. Both parents drill it into your head that as a Y/L/N, you’re held to a higher standard than your peers. Perfect grades, perfect life, perfect daughter. You don’t know how to tell them you don’t even feel human anymore, so you smile and nod as they pester and nag. Your little sister sits quietly the whole time, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher.

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