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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

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part one

part two

———

“Ugh,” Keith says.

“Ugh,” Lance agrees.

Keith looks up slowly from where he was glowering at his plate of appetizers, staring at Lance for several minutes with eyes squinted in suspicion.

“What the fresh fuck are you talking about.”

Lance wrinkles his nose at him. “What?”

“You love these things,” Keith says, like the Blue Paladin is a particularly slow toddler. “You’re usually – prancing around, making a fool of yourself in front of pretty people. Every time one of these dumbass celebration missions ends you complain. The fuck you mean, ‘ugh’?”

“I mean ugh,” Lance repeats, emphasizing the word. “Sometimes I simply do not feel the party vibe, Keith. You ever think about that? No. Because you never think about anything. Because the only thing in your skull is a hamster wheel covered in cobwebs. So there.”

Keith lets that hang between them for a moment.

“You’re just mad you got called ugly earlier, huh.”

“It was so rude!” Lance explodes, obviously waiting for Keith to bring it up. “Like, who says that? What kind of trained diplomat refers to a random stranger as ‘the homely one’? Why the fuck would you say that? And it’s not even true! I’m a legit snack! I have been propositioned, you know! More than once! It’s actually quite frequent!” He throws his hand up, noise of frustration coming from deep in his throat. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no actual sentences come out, just different variations of ‘ugh!’ and ‘how dare!’ and ‘the nerve!’.

Because he is a stellar person, Keith does not laugh, instead biting his tongue as hard as he physically can without biting it clean off. Everytime Lance’s sputtering dies off only to kick back up when he thinks of his transgression again it gets harder.

Contrary to what everyone seems to think, Keith likes Lance. They’re friends. They hang out, they talk shit about other people, they do friend things. That’s why they’re both sitting here, at the edge of some grandiose ballroom on a planet whose name Keith has forgotten because they’ve only been here one day, leaning against each other and picking food off the same plate. (Well, Keith’s plate. He’s being gracious and letting Lance have some because Lance has taken enough massive Ls today, and Hunk is busy, so if Lance gets hangry Keith can’t just pass him off on somebody, so. Better to keep him fed, or whatever.)

“We should go – do something,” Lance mutters, picking apart what appears to be a cookie. Maybe. Alien shit is weird. “Make faces behind Shiro’s back. Convince Coran to get wine drunk.”

“We did that already,” Keith dismisses. “Last time, remember? We can’t do it too many times or we’re gonna have to be supervised again. We just managed to convince Shiro to ease up on the trackers.”

Lance sinks further into his chair. “Ugh,” he says again, with true feeling.

Keith begins to feel bad. Lance doesn’t look genuinely upset, he doesn’t think – he knows what a genuinely upset Lance looks like and it’s fucking heartbreaking; it’s the kind of shit that could stop wars – but Keith is a little bit worried that he is bothered, in some way. It can’t feel good to get called ugly in front of everybody. It was funny. And Keith laughed a little. But, still.

Keith nudges their shoulders together. “You wanna go dance?”

Lance freezes. He turns his head slowly to face Keith, like if he moves too fast Keith is going to change his mind. His brown doe eyes are wide and hopeful and over the top, honestly. God. No one asked for that.

“Really?”

“No. I’m taking back my offer. You’re being weird about it.”

“Nope! Nuh-uh! No takebacksies! We’re dancing!” Lance whoops, shoving back his chair and scrambling to his feet. He wraps his fingers tightly around Keith’s wrist, grinning so wide his face is about to split.

“You are holding me hostage,” Keith complains, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He gets up at Lance’s urging, popping the last of the weirdo alien cookie in his mouth and wiping his hand on his suit pants. “Let’s go, Homely One.”

If looks could kill, Keith’s intestines would be painting the floor. The look Lance gives him is lethal. It’s made worse when Keith laughs, because that was funny as hell and he refuses to pretend otherwise. He pulls Lance away, though, before he can reach for the butterknife that’s closeby and stab Keith in the eye, clasping their hands together and weaving them through the crowd of dancers and partygoers. Pretty soon the excitement catches up to Lance, because after a minute he’s the one dragging them around, having apparently picked a perfect spot on the ornate marble dancefloor for them to situate themselves. It is, of course, right smack in the middle, surrounded by people on all sides, right under the massive and delicate crystal chandelier that Keith and Hunk spent forty minutes mocking when they first got here.

“You’re extra as all fuck,” Keith informs him, dutifully putting his hand on Lance’s waist as instructed.

“I will have my Sam Montgomery moment or so help me God,” Lance responds. Keith notices he’s closer than he needs to be and immediately orders himself to un-notice that. He can see flecks of amber in Lance’s dark eyes. It’s so actually horrible. He focuses on Lance’s nose, instead, hoping for reprieve, but of course there is where all his freckles are. An attempt to focus on Lance’s mouth is a disaster waiting to happen, so he looks deliberately at Lance’s bigass forehead to distract himself. It kind of works.

The forehead that he is so intensely focused on wrinkles, and Keith says, “What,” and Lance says, “Aw, Keith, gross,” and then before Keith can stop anything Lance is untangling their hands, licking his thumb, and wiping something at the corner of his mouth.

Keith freezes.

He processes.

He gags.

All in that order.

“Lance!” he cries, swiping his own hands at his mouth. “Gross!”

“What’s gross is you walking around with crusty icing on the corner of your mouth, heathen,” Lance says, eyebrow arched and chin tilted defiantly.

Keith makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. His face matches his armour. He prays that the universe crack open the ground to swallow him whole. He can’t – gah. No one has done that to him since Shiro’s mother would come to visit and take them to get ice cream. When he was eleven.

“Are you a ninety year old grandmother,” he hisses, swiping the corner of his mouth one last time. He thinks his face may actually be glowing.

“Are you a two year old who can’t keep his food in his mouth?” Lance counters. He looks entirely unbothered and Keith wants to strangle him. Who does that. Who, honestly.

“That is not how I wanted your spit near my mouth,” Keith mutters, and immediately wants to open his bayard between his eyes.

Lance stops. A twirling trio of people bumps into him. He does not move. Slowly, his face begins to burn, starting from the sharp jut of his cheekbones and quickly spreading everywhere else. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then narrows his eyes in determination and opens it again.

“Nope,” Keith says before he can say anything. There is no recovery from this. There is only tactical retreat. “I have to – I left my excuse on the castle. I’m gonna go grab it.”

As quickly as he can manage he lets go of Lance’s hand and his waist, gracefully ducking around a dancing couple and high-tailing the hell out of the room. He averts his eyes when he walks by Shiro, praying he doesn’t get stopped, and walks straight out the door. Lance’s calls of his name quickly become faint as he sprints down the hallway.

He can’t believe — God, he said that. Out loud. To Lance’s face. After Lance fucking — licked his thumb and wiped Keith’s face. Like the fussy mother he is.

And Keith is still attracted to him.

He stops in the middle of the hallway, head cradled in his hands, skin hot to the touch.

Fuck, he has a complex.

#i am less happy with this than i wanted to be but i’ve been working on it for hours so time to blow out the candle #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #pre klance #pining keith #mom friend lance #brown eyed lance #lance & keith #banter #bad flirting #disaster keith #my writing #fic #longpost

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frenxio · 11 months

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Ayato - Kiss The Bride

Word count: 1.2K

Genre: Angst

A/n: I am not bothered to change up the entire vibe of this one shot anymore :)

----------------------------------------------------

The Kamisato Clan and the L/n Clan have long been enemies. It dates back to the beginning of the clans where they just, simply didn't like one another. Just one look in the street and a fight would break out in public with no shame and anyone who spoke of their incident would immediately get their tongue sliced off. Now, days have changed, but still the clans were still enemies. Generation after generation, a person would lead a Clan, which then leads to today.

You, who's Y/n L/n, leader of the L/n Clan, has fallen on her knees before the leader of the Kamisato Clan, Ayato.

He's such a busy man, as always. His eyes are always stuck to the paperwork, and his hands were never empty unless events were on play in Inazuma. It makes it difficult to make room to play with somebody. However, you made it possible by annoying him wherever he went. Despite families being enemies, you shamelessly present your love for him.

"I love him so much, I want to marry him!" With hands clasped together, dreaming about the future that he knew would never happen.

The two clans never worried about it because Ayato always ignores her admirable gifts and affection, since they knew he wouldn't take action.

He walks through the hallway with a pack of finished workplaces in hand to give to his father, while an annoying hamster follows him. "What are you up to now?" He said sarcastically.

You giggled, "just a secret!"

He rolled his eyes and continued walking forward in silence, gifting his father the pages before bowing and leaving with the hamster. The silence was louder than he expected. You would normally have presented a weird prank on him by now, but no, not yet.

"Ayato."

He continues walking without batting an eye.

"Ayato! Look at me!"

He turns around and looked down to watch your squirming figure. "What is it?"

"Um, I have a gift for you. I hope you like it!" You took the gift out from your back and gave it to him like a letter of confession. Boeing down, straight arms to hand the special gift. To his surprise, there was a love letter ontop of the neatly wrapped box. He didn't dare ask about it, because he knew what was up. After years of trying to get to him, you finally attempt to confess. "Thanks."

"Also I want to say something."

Here it comes.

He prepared for his lines ever since, so he knew what to say in response. The harshest one possible to keep her away from him.

"Go on."

With a little bit of confidence, she breathed and said it. "I, I'm actually in love with you. I have loved you ever since I met you and-!"

"Look, I'm not interested. You wasted four years of your life trying to get me to marry you, but it will all be for nothing. You're the Clan leader of L/n, right? Why do you try so hard when you know that our families are enemies?"

You flinched hard while still looking up at him with pitiful eyes. "Be, because love could never break no matter the obstacles."

He refused to say anything rude up to this point, yet he still did. "Who taught you that? Nobody in my Clan ever taught me, is that what your Clan thinks in their heads? Just delusional romance?"

No words came out of your mouth and it made Ayato satisfied with your response. Nothing. It felt like he shook your heart too much, and it would be enough for you to avoid him.

He scoffs and turns his back on you, "Now leave me be."

But, no. You didn't stop there. Even after getting rejected, you continue to nag him. You were your usual self. Always hugging his arm, telling him that you will always love him no matter what, even if the universe one day explodes, he would be forever in your heart. You were still the cheerful, most beautiful, most interesting person even after the heart clenching reply he made. Confused, he slightly got irritated.

In the middle of the night, you were reading a book beside him who was doing his paperwork as usual. He felt the depressing aura that came off of you, but didn't ask about it. He never felt concerned.

"Hey, Ayato."

"Hm?"

"Do you really... not love me at all?"

He glanced at you and stopped writing. "No, I really don't. It's up to the point that I don't even wish to marry you. I'd rather get wed to somebody else."

You flinched again and bit your lip. That, that line struck a chord in your heart, and he did it purposely knowing full well that it would hurt you. It shattered you completely. You knew he wasn't always so cold to you. There were times when he was nice, there were times where he would return your gifts with bouquets and kiss your forehead good night. You thought that he had the same feelings as you, but now something was telling you that it were all fake.

You gently closed the book and looked at him straight in the eye. You wanted to get a final answer. "Really? Nothing?"

"None. Nothing about you makes my heart beat, because you're a L/n."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, indicating that it was your last straw.

You slammed the table and got up quietly. Putting your slippers on and leaving without taking another look. Perhaps he shouldn't have gone too far. He didn't want you to leave but, due to family restrictions, he couldn't make you stay.

He grabbed his pen again and continued writing. This time, he wrote on the corner of a page the shape of a heart shattering into different pieces.

A week later, his surroundings becaome from quiet to whispers. A talk about the girl who used to love Ayato was now getting wed to another man named Hiro, the Sakura Clan's leader. From what he heard, anybody can join the wedding without needing invitations.

He rejected her and yet...

...Now he sees her with another man linking with her arm. Something broke inside of him. The way she acts in a stiff manner, the way her personality seemed fake, and how her eyes doesn't seem to twinkle when she looks at him. It was all fake. She doesn't love him.

Something just broke.

His eyes widened in shock, fist clenching and trembling in anger at how this man just stole the love of his life. If there were no rules to abide and he could love her freely, this wouldn't have happened. He could have changed the relationship the Clans have and this... personality that didn't even look like yours.

You noticed the tall figure hiding behind a pillar. You knew right away that it was Ayato. It simply hurt looking at him like that. Confused and mad, frustrated, even. No, no, you- he doesn't love you. You know that. Because you're a L/n, you can't love him.

You looked back at Hiro. "I do."

"You may now kiss the bride!"

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x you #lovers #romance #fictional characters #genshin impact fanfic #genshin x reader #x reader #genshin angst #x yn #ayato x y/n #ayato x you #ayato x reader

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jennay · 7 months

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Dreaded Sickness

Request:

Hi!! I love your writing so much. It's so refreshing to see some fluff. I was wondering if you could do something where the reader has a cold or the flu, and Noah takes care of them. I've been a lil stuffy lately and feel like this would be super cute. 💕

Word Count: 1800ish

Noah Sebastian x reader

No warnings.

Noah Master List

An: hope you enjoy this! I tried not to sound too cliché. Let me know what you think💜

Being sick was your worst nightmare. You took vitamins regularly, washed your hands constantly, and wore masks at work.

You avoided touching door handles; if you ever heard someone was sick, you would avoid contact with them.

Noah found it humorous and often teased that you needed to be put in one of those plastic hamster balls, and he would carry you around.

He'd never seen you sick for the three years you had been dating, so it was all new to him when you left work early and texted him: I'm dying.

He saw you this morning when you left, and you looked ok. He assumed you got the sniffles and were overreacting, but when he saw you in the bedroom with the blankets covering every inch of your body, concern rushed to his core.

"Oh, babe." He whispers, sitting at the edge of the bed; his hand falls to your shoulder. A frown on his lips when he hears you struggling to breathe. He gently sets his hand on your forehead, gauging your body's temperature.

Your eyes flutter open at his touch, "Hey." You quietly groan while pushing yourself into a seated position. What a mistake that was; your body feels heavy, and sitting up feels like a chore. All the blood rushed to your head, making you feel like passing out.

Noah wraps his tattooed arm around your body, bracing for the impact of you against his chest. "What happened to you?" He asks, running his fingers through the ends of your hair.

You sigh, "I feel like shit, and everything hurts." You gently pull out of his arms and collapse back on the bed. You pull the blankets back to your face and close your eyes.

"Are you just stuffed up?" He lies beside you on the blankets, propped up on his elbow to observe you. You look a little flushed, your lips are dry from breathing through your mouth, and your eyes are a bit puffy from rubbing them.

"I don't know." You whisper, turning on your side to face the wall. You feel his hand rub your back soothingly.

"Do you want to try a bath? I can get it started." He offers.

"I don't think I can walk there." You softly say. "I don't even know if I have control over my limbs right now."

Noah chuckles, "Good thing I've had lots of practice carrying you around." He sits up and walks over to the bathroom that connects to your room. "I'll be right back."

You hear the water turn on, and Noah hums while waiting there. You're grateful for him and don't want to be rude, but part of you wants him to let you sleep.

You can only imagine what he's filling the tub up with. Bubbles, bath salts, bath bombs…there was a wide variety to choose from, but knowing him, he would overdo it. You were too tired to care. You hear the water turn off, and his footsteps gradually get closer.

"Ready?" He asks, slowly pulling the blankets down your body. "Do you want me to carry you?" He doesn't give you time to answer before he slips an arm under your back and the other under your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

It always surprised you when he picked you up without an issue, no groans, no sighing, and no complaints.

You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, "It's so cold."

He frowns, feeling your body shiver against him. "I know, babe. It's only for a second." He brushes his lips against your forehead. "You're going to be ok. I promise. I'm here."

Noah lowers you to the floor, and a groan escapes your lips as the cold tile chills your skin. He removes your clothes, flings them aside, and then offers you his hand. You cling to him as he guides you into the bathtub.

You sigh as the heat wraps around you, soothing your aching body. You were reluctant to do this, but you're thankful Noah convinced you.

The water feels smooth and gentle, with lavender bubbles and elderberry oils nourishing your skin.

Noah squats beside you, his brown eyes sparkling with happiness as he watches you rest your head and close your eyes. He feels proud of himself for giving you some relief.

He loves seeing you happy and relaxed; it makes him happy, too. He thinks about how lucky he is to have you in his life. He never thought he'd find such a connection with someone, but here you were, constantly making him realize the amount of love he could truly feel for someone. “Do you need anything else?” He wonders aloud.

You shake your head slightly. “No, but can you stay in here?” You ask him softly. "I feel like I'm going to fall asleep, and I don't want to drown." You think about how lucky you are to have him in your life, how much easier life has been with him by your side. The comfort he gives you, how much love he shows you.

You think about how he always knows what to say or do to make you feel better, to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you feel safe. You think about how he’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed, everything you ever dreamed of.

He sits on the tile and leans back against the wall, “Of course.” He says without any hesitation.

A smile pulls at your lips, “I’m glad you found me.” You whisper.

He chuckles, watching you sink deeper into relaxation, “I’m glad I found you too.”

He smiles at you with a nostalgic look in his eyes. “Do you remember the first time we met?” He asks you, thinking about the moment that changed everything.

You had caught his attention on Instagram with a video you recorded singing. He wanted to collaborate with you on a duet. He sent you a message and asked you politely. You replied and declined him firmly. You told him that his music wasn’t suitable for your voice and that you didn’t have the experience he was looking for.

He didn’t give up, though. He kept sending you messages and trying to persuade you. He complimented your voice and your style. He told you how much he admired your talent and your passion. He said he had a perfect song for you and would love to hear you sing it with him.

You resisted his charm for two more months, but he was persistent and persuasive. You finally agreed to give him a chance, but you warned him that he would regret wasting his time.

The moment he saw you in person, his life changed.

You walked into the studio with a confident smile and a casual outfit. You wore jeans and a T-shirt that showed off your curves. You had your hair in a ponytail and sunglasses on your head. You looked calm and relaxed like you did this every day.

He was stunned by your beauty and your charisma. He felt his heart skip a beat and his mouth go dry. He greeted you warmly and introduced you to his producer and his bandmates.

They were all friendly and welcoming. You shook their hands and complimented their work. You made them laugh with your jokes and your wit. He could tell they liked you instantly.

He led you to the recording booth and handed you a pair of headphones and a microphone. He explained the song he had written for you and played a demo for you. It was a romantic ballad with a catchy chorus, the complete opposite of what you'd heard from him. You listened attentively and nodded along. You liked the melody and the lyrics. You told him it was a beautiful song and you were honored to sing it with him.

He pressed the record button and signaled you to start. You took a deep breath and sang the first verse with your powerful voice. It was sweet and soulful, full of emotion and expression. He joined you in the chorus, and you felt yourself melt at the sound of his voice. You harmonized perfectly and felt a spark between you.

The song ended, and he clapped his hands enthusiastically. He praised your performance. You had a few hours of goofing off but also moments of seriousness.

You followed him to the control room, where he played the song for you, and you both listened with admiration. It sounded like magic. You felt proud of what you had created together.

Noah admitted to you he had been following your Instagram for a long time and that he was a big fan of your voice. He said he had always wanted to work with you and was glad you finally agreed. He said he had enjoyed every moment of singing with you and that he felt a special connection with you. He asked you out the next day.

"I thought I was going to pass out." Noah laughs, "Can you believe that was three years ago?" He asks you.

You nod, "Best three years of my life. Thanks for continuing to try." You softly say. You slowly sit up in the bath and blink your eyes a few times, ready to get up, a yawn falling from your lips. "Can you hand me the towel?"

Noah stands up and grabs the towel, reaching for your hand to help you step out. He wraps the towel around your body and leads you to the room. "Go sit." He says, pointing to the bed; he walks away to the dresser and grabs you some fresh clothes, bending down in front of you. He starts at your legs and walks to your top, sliding your shirt over your body. He gently kisses your nose, making you giggle. "I love you." He quietly says.

"I love you too. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

Noah shrugs as you get back under the blanket and curl on the pillows. "You make it easy." He tucks the blankets under your body, making sure you won't get cold. He sits next to you, crawling in bed and pulling you close to him. He kisses your temple, "I want you to get some rest, OK?"

You nod, "I'll try to sleep, but don't go too far, please." You softly say, snuggling into his chest. "I'm scared I'm not going to wake up."

Noah smiles, melting at the idea of you needing him. "You're going to be ok, princess. I'll be right here when you wake up." He closes his eyes, getting comfortable beside you, drifting into a peaceful slumber.

He hopes that when you wake up, this nightmare will be over, but until then he will lay here keeping you safe in his arms.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian oneshot #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction

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jeongtothein · 2 months

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SKZ AS UNQUALIFIED BAKERS

Bang Chan ★

“so you need to preheat the oven at—“

“Preheat what now????”

“the oven, you need to make 22 cookies.”

“DAMN WHAT THEY NEED SO MANY FOR??”

★ - Doesn’t know what he’s doing

★ - Someone take him out that damn kitchen..

Lee know ★

“So how are the cupcakes goin— WHAT THE HEL IS THAT???”

“my secret recipe.”

”ARE YOU SERVING THE CUSTOMERS ACID??”

“How’d you know—“

★ - always trying to kill somebody and blames it on the pet hamster

★ - Save Hamburger the Hamster 💔

Changbin ★

“Why are you lifting weights in the middle of your job???”

“I am NOT letting this job get in the way of me looking fine and dandy.”

“sigh..”

*keeps lifting weights*

★ - somehow not fired???

★ - he always being extra and shit like you are NOT all that..

Hyunjin ★

“Hyunjin.. they asked for sugar cookies.”

“CANT WE BE CREATIVE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD??”

“WE’RE IN A BAKERY.”

“oh”

★ - draws some fancy shit on every dessert he bakes and gets HELLA TIPS

★ - coworkers remind him too much of his members and forgets he’s actually working

Han ★

“And.. finished!!”

“that looks radioactive.”

“Uhm, rude much.. don’t judge a book by its cover??”

“did you put cornstarch in that???”

“yeah why— wait was i supposed to put baking soda inste— *bakery explodes*”

★ - makes everything look like it’s a fucked up elevator

★ - bakery burns down and explodes every 5 minutes

Felix ★

“Hey Felix can you come to decorate the cookies?”

“yeah hold on give me a second I’m preheating the oven.”

“but it was just preheating??”

“oh yeah I know, I’m making brownies.”

“THIS IS THE 5TH TIME TODAY??”

★ - he doesn’t know anything else to make other than brownies

★ - best brownies though !!!

Seungmin ★

“Hello??? Seungmin can you please stop standing there and do something??”

“hell NO. I rather be the cashier of this place.”

“that isn’t what you signed up for—“

“idgaf.”

★ - he doesn’t try to bake because he knows he’ll burn down the place.. (princess treatment..)

★ - after the pancake disaster he’s done with baking

Jeongin ★

“I finished the cookies!!”

“oh!! They actually look good. *starts eating one* Wait, why do they taste so weird??”

“oh I accidentally put the oven way too high, or it could’ve been the venom I put in it—“

“WHAT?? IS THE OVEN STILL ON?? JEONGIN THE OVEN IS STI—“ *Bakery blows up*

★ - the sweetest baker there probably

★ - blows up the bakery every 5 seconds but he’s forgiven every time

♡ Request any ideas like this if you’d want !! (´∀｀)♡

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rzyraffek · 10 months

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OH OH REQUEST IDEA....TAKING SLASHERS HOME TO MEET YOUR PARENTS BECAUSE THATS LIKW SUPER SMART

Billy Micheal and Jason are the only ones i care about but you can add whoever

Omg hi!! Thanks for request!

They/them, sfw and request open

Slashers meeting s/o perents

Billy Lenz

Why would you do that

No fr why would anyone think this was good idea

Guy cant say a sentence without swear words or weird sex jokes😭

But fr billy will be so nervous!! Lil baby doesn't know how to behave!

S/o has to give him tutorial how to act like normal human and not 3rats in trench coat

Perents will be... alarmed to say the least... like really?? You could pick anyone but you picked oversized goblin?? Wow s/o

If s/o has younger siblings, he will bite them btw

Usually perents want to have grandchildren but oh god oh no not with this guy please s/o think about it!!

Billy vibes tbh he likes s/o perents they goofy. He also ate raw pasta. All of it

He told s/o dad that he wants lego for chrismas btw

Micheal Myers

How much you drank to think thats a good idea

Soo you telling me you bf is a serial killer?

At least he won't say anything rude, and s/o perents are too intimidated to say something rude about him🥰peace

Micheal just stares really, hes harmless for now

Yes s/o mom will call them to make sure that they aren't kidnaped and this all stuff is acually consensual

Live laugh love dont get stabbed by Michael

Yall can't even eat a dinner together 😔my guy looks like npc. Like yall just sit nicley and my homie just🧍 he doesn't even eat he just looks at yall, he totally judges their outfits

Hide your pets away he might eat them. You have pet hamster? What hamster?

Jason Voorhees

Omg homeboy is stressed! What if they don't like him:((

At first their perents were intimidated by him, but s/o's mom and him got along very fast! They are baking cookies together! Also if s/o has smol siblings or animals o my god he is bff with them instantly

Their mom and him acually got along faster than s/o with jason when they met first time!

Helps with carring heavy stuff... you bought new fridge? Call up son-in-law jason to help out (s/o mom has him named like that in contacts in phone)

Perents kinda wonder where he lives, when s/o told them that he has vintage cottage in Forest they started to think that hes rich or something

S/o perents already hope that yall get married

Asa emory

My dude bought suit for that appointment

He promised not to talk about skinning people while yall are eating dinner. He is so dreamy

Got along very well with s/o's dad, they are talking about fishing or something idk what dads are into lol

Almost fell asleep when their mom was talking

I WANTED TO WRITE " when their mom was talking about that she wants grandchildren" BUT ITS SOUNDS WAY FUNNIER THAT WAY

He was scared to eat dinner, it looked.... suspicious... he never trusted cheesy lasagna

Anyways Asa and their dad are besties now, they will go fishing next week

He cried in car after meeting "S/O IM NEVER GOING THERE AGAIN IT WAS SCARY IF I HEAR YOUR MOM SAY ANYRGING ABOUT GRANDCHILDREN AGAIN IM GOING TO DOX HER SO HARD SHE WONT EVEN HAVE OPPORTUNITY TO SEE THEM"

I didnt write any headcanons for few weeks i hope it was good or at least readable

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #jason vorhees headcanon #jason vorhees imagine #jason voorhees #jason vorhees x reader #micheal myers x you #micheal myers headcanons #micheal myers x reader #asa emory #asa emory x reader #asa x reader #the collector x reader #the collector #micheal myers

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

pining for you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: sister of "you assume it's unrequited.txt" this one from the boys' POV; angst + light fluff

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ sorry for the shortness of Tae's piece, it just felt right to begin and end with those sentences

━ leave a comment or I’ll drown you in a tub of money. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

KNJ | Frankly — irrationally and irrevocably — Kim Namjoon hates your guts.

Rude, conceited, disagreeable. An ill-mannered hamster of a person!

Kind, smart. Different.

Different.

Was that why it usually takes him two whole days to muster up enough courage to speak to you? Or was the situation as a whole something more base — he desired that certain someone because they utterly and unmistakably wanted nothing to do with him?

Be that as it may, he needed rules. Rules for his status, rules for his peace of mind. Rules for his rapidly deteriorating mood. Why continue to pursue a person who runs away from you? Who didn’t like you at all; not even a little bit? Logically it made absolutely no sense.

With a deep, exhausted groan, he lets his head fall against the overcrowded desk of his unlit studio.

“Follow the rules, Namjoon,” he breathes out, feeling the rush of warm air reflect from the wood underneath. “Follow the rules and you should be fine.”

There were only five of them. after all. He ought to manage.

Rule no. 5: don’t think too personally about anything they do.

People showed menial kindness every single day of their lives. These were just gestures, acknowledging nods of the bond created between a person and a society at large. If the corners of your lips quirked as he was telling a joke it wasn’t because you thought of him as incredibly funny but it was because you were humouring him yourself. Should you happen to leave a note on his schedule: “Jaehyun told Sae who told me you needed 17th free for family reasons. It’s been arranged. Happy visit!” then it only meant that you were good at your job. He didn’t dispute that. Though Namjoon suspects he’s not doing all that good of a work with this rule — every single time your shoulder brushes past his, as you quickly make your way to whatever destination called you next, his heart, unfailingly, unflinchingly, skips a beat.

Rule no.4: no intruding upon your life.

He’s not intruding. Offering to get coffee and a pastry is not intruding. You haven’t eaten! You always wait for the last minute and if anything this was for collective good! Should you faint and an ambulance would have to be called, work day comes to a grinding halt! So he was merely thinking of it as a team effort, that’s all!

“Yeah,” he thinks to himself with a tired sigh, holding the bag of two breads in his hand. One for him and you. “I don’t think I’m good at this rule, either.”

Rule no.3: no personal contact or affection.

Line upon line, he traces the bold black letters of the notes littered across his fridge. In some cases, the marker has soaked the paper to the point of tearing.

NO HOLDING HANDS! he reads as a reminder while brushing his teeth in the morning.

NO BUMPS ON THE SHOULDER! mocks the writing on his bathroom mirror as he spits the damn toothpaste out.

“No holding you in his embrace,” he softly whispers to himself, hearing you cry on the other side of the ajar door.

But maybe…!

His fingers freeze around the door knob and with a bated breath he waits.

But maybe…!

He proceeds to curl his palm into a fist, closing the door softly closed.

No maybe’s.

No holding you in his embrace.

Rule no.2: limit personal time spent together.

That you seemed to be taking care finely by yourself. It hasn’t escaped him — the mad scramble you threw yourself in whenever he appeared. Across the stage, across the hall, across a busied street. Didn’t matter what conditions and barriers stood before you, recklessly you threw yourself over them, all but fleeing away.

Did it hurt? Yes.

But was it for the best? Yes.

“Fuck what’s for the best,” he sulks to himself, angrily punching the keyboard of his computer.

However, because Namjoon's life was nothing but a puppet show and he was indeed the puppet that’s on the stage getting repeatedly thwacked by a bat, the harder he tried to stay away from you, the more he found himself in your presence.

Noticing you approaching from the other side of the hallway, nose buried into a file, he, guided by nothing but pure-minded intentions, decides to spare you the running away and bolts into what he presumed to be an empty cupboard. Moments later you walk into his chest and only then he notices your name plastered across the door.

He walked straight into an office.

But as bad as he is observing all those rules, as much as he often breaks them quite knowingly, it’s but a mere echo of how much he can’t observe rule no.1.

rule no.1: out of sight, out of mind

Out of sight perhaps but out of mind? He wouldn’t dream of it. In fact if he does dream then you’re it. Every song, every laughter of another pair, every line in a poem and brush stroke of a painting.

You, you, you.

Frankly — irrationally and irrevocably — Kim Namjoon hates your guts. And just like someone whom he doesn’t remember said, the thing he hated most about you was that he didn’t hate you at all.

MYG | "9,000,000₩...no, more like 10,000,000₩."

"What are you doing?"

Throwing a thoroughly accusing glare over the rim of his glasses, Jimin coolly replies:

"I'm calculating the sum of money you'll have to pay for your crimes."

"What crimes would those be?"

"Stalking," taking an overtly smarmy sip from his iced coffee pinky outstretched and all, Jimin observes tiredly groaning Yoongi.

"Not this again," he huffs irately. "How many times? I'm not stalking. We're just friends."

"Friends," Jimin snorts as though what Yoongi said was at least decently hilarious. "Friends, my ass."

"Well if that's how you treat them."

From the sour expression alone Yoongi gathers the sentiments that Jimin wanted to hurtle at him and truly he was far too drained to hear any of them.

"I'm off," curtly, he tosses over his shoulder, gathering up his coat. Jimin's eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

"Already?"

"It'll stick that way," Yoongi points a finger at the other man's befuddled expression before promptly shutting the doors behind. Perhaps he did hear the bellowed question — "are you really going to see that bartender again?" — but he did not regard it. So what if he did? Taehyung had tens if not dozens of friends and no one ever gave him a hard time because of it.

Walking through the familiar haphazard turns which spun his way towards you, the blinding light of apothecary suddenly reminds him. Right, the patches.

"Thank you! Come again soon!"

Politely, Yoongi nods at the young woman's words, reflexively pursing his lips into a pinched smile behind the black mask. Calmly and silently he walks the by now usual route to your bar, occasionally thumbing at the nicotine patches in the pocket of his coat. Quitting for him wasn't exactly easy or difficult per se — there was simply no incentive for him to care all that much. Sure, he knew it was bad for his health but...so? So what? However, now he's found a certain kind of joy in quitting, even if he wholeheartedly believes these patches were nothing but a frankly lazy cash grab. This is your thing with him. He gets to share something with you. Like a human to a human. When you smile he knows it's not because you have to, not because he's a paying patron but because you like him.

And Min Yoongi happens to very much like you too. By now it's redundant to hide away from the truth or be so conceited about the fact, he'd sit here like a fucking fool denying the reality. It's not quitting an unhealthy habit that has him escaping work more, that has his legs racing to get to trash bins of all the places in the world. Who could have known a dingy side alley would become a piece of deluded home?

And sure, you probably don't like him like that, certainly you won't once the truth of his identity will come out, as it always does, but he's fine with it, as long as he can still keep seeing you. Seeing you as just himself — without the pretense.

Plus he has plenty of chances to tease you about living under a rock.

When he finds you, you’re looking like a roadkill. Hair frazzled, hands wringing nervously as you pace — a sign of nicotine craving hitting bad. Your face is scrunched up in deep worry and wrinkles line your forehead with thorough dedication.

Min Yoongi couldn’t be any fonder.

Before he has the chance to roast you to hell and back, you notice him across the swirling shadows of the alleyway, throwing your hands into the air.

“I thought you would never show up! Gimme!”

You reach your grabby hands towards him and playfully, Yoongi scoffs.

“Wine and dine me first, heathen. A guy can be more than a piece of ass you know. I have….feelings.”

“You’re a demon on two legs and a good skincare,” irately, you hiss and for a second Yoongi does think you would just rip the coat off him in search for the damn patches. He wouldn't…

…necessarily mind.

Khem.

He peels the patch out from his pocket and smacks it right into the middle of your forehead. With a deeply exhausted groan, you slide down the wall.

“I hate bachelorettes,” the miserable cocoon whimpers.

Yes, Yoongi knew as much. This was strictly a piece of knowledge you probably should never know but the first time he came here a bachelorette was also taking place. Under normal circumstances he would make a hasty exit but the stream of inebriated, overjoyed women had blocked all his possible routes of escape so he had no choice but to dwell like a malicious goblin at the far side of the bar in the hopes that they won’t take that long. The seat that he’d been forced into was next to the doors to the staff room and it was here that he first saw you. Or rather he heard you. Cursing. With such colour and speed that two things flashed through his mind:

with some training you’d make a decent rapper

damn, that vocabulary has my ears getting red.

By the end of the night, he left you a big, big tip, stuffing the wads of cash into his emptied whiskey glass and hiding it behind the bar where only you could find it. Tossing one last glimpse over his shoulders, wading through the mass of party streamers and spare boa feathers, he saw your disheveled form. As tired as you were, you were holding onto the small girl — Sara was it? — patting her on the back like your own child, assuring you’d cover for her tomorrow so she could rest.

Good. Even then he could sense that you were good. And watching down upon you now, just as disheveled and tired but still inherently good, he was happy he’d raced to meet you out here on one of his prevalent uh…”people watching” activities that just so happened to center around this bar.

“STALKING!” Jimin’s voice unwittingly surges from the back of his head and he jolts in surprise of it.

You lift your pitiful gaze from the backs of your hands and observe him quietly.

“Is your shoulder okay?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Cause you strained it two days ago—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

WHY?! WHY WAS HE DOING WHAT HE WAS DOING?!?

Min Yoongi, have you lost your mind, he scolds himself, harshly pulling his hand away.

So he…he just caressed your cheek. That…was a thing that just happened.

You both remain awkwardly quiet.

“The nicotine craving is really getting to you, huh?” you chuckle thinly, voice falling far, far above the average tembre.

“Yeah, I’m overwhelmed,” dryly, he retorts, pushing the hand that touched your cheek deep into the pocket of his coat.

I’m not going to wash it, is his first thought. That’s fucking gross, is the second.

“Why is your face all red?” you inquire curiously.

“None of your business!”

KSJ | Because one inevitably lives in a society there are certain rules and roles one has to observe. Jin for the most part has managed to break out of the mold that was so surely set for him. Becoming an idol did inadvertently saddle him with some expectations of how he should act and in what words that act ought to be shrouded in but it didn’t change the fact that a son of a CEO, no matter how humble that company was, ran off one day and became an idol.

As long as the rules only involved himself he was quite ready to do what he pleased. But this was…different. His role didn’t just involve you, it was because of you.

He’d never seen his father so serious as he was on that day when he pulled Jin aside and somberly whispered.

“I’m not saying that the kid is bad,” you were already adult then. “But that family is no good, Jin. Just…it’d be better for both of you if you’d forget it, son.”

His throat had then been full with the beat of his heart. By that point the attraction he had for you was simmering in the back of his mind. He thought he’d concealed it fine enough, letting the curious surprise at how you turned out to be sit in the confines of his privacy but apparently not. His father had tossed him the last knowing glance and mingled back into the party, leaving Jin to stand in his corner confused and suddenly cold.

But if society was a peculiar thing, then a mind was even more so.

Because for some reason Jin’s mind decided to obsess over that one person on the earth who had the personality of a power tool.

“Two years of my life.”

“Yoongi, please, this isn’t about you,” Jin whimpers miserably, sound falling muffled as his face is pressed tightly against the bedcover. “Give me some sympathy!”

“I have none.”

Jin is not quite certain how he manages it but even Yoongi’s disembodied voice carries its frustration so clearly, he can almost see the man in front of his eyes.

“Because of you, for two years of my life I had to listen to how beautiful they are, how clever. “Did you know they graduated in the top 5 in their university?! Yoongi, top 5!” I even had to organize to send them flowers on graduation from a secret admirer because of that bullshit feud your family has with theirs.”

The last part he scoffs.

Jin scrambles up from the bed.

“Can we get to the most important part here?” he huffs, bringing the phone closer to his mouth.

“And what would that be?”

“Me!”

The roll of Yoongi’s eyes is almost audible.

“And what about you? So you kissed them and chickened out. What’s more to it?”

“wHAT’S MORE TO IT?!” Only barely Jin manages to pull in a meditative breath, in order to not project his left lung all the way back to Korea. “What’s more to it?!” he hisses. “I’m supposed to be a brotherly figure. At best! They’re younger than me—”

“They’re still an adult.”

“I’ve known them since we were kids!”

“Real meet-cute, what can I say?”

“It’s just-It’s just! It’s just not meant to be!”

“If it’s not meant to be, why did you kiss them at all?”

Jin doesn’t reply and after a moment he drops the call entirely, leaving Yoongi to ruefully sigh in his dark studio.

“I fucking hate slow burns,” he grumbles.

Rolling out of the bed, Jin dejectedly waddles through the door. It’s the middle of the night, safe to say everyone else was sleeping. Why did he kiss you, he ponders waddling to the kitchen, why indeed. A brotherly figure was definitely not supposed to do that, doesn’t matter if you were just a close friend of his cousin or not. But then why had you embraced him last summer?

As your hands came up to form circle around his waist and with your breath reeking heavily of alcohol and the pink boa slipping down one of your shoulders, dragging limply behind like a tail, why did you have to mutter into his chest how much you liked him? That he was guilty for the suffering he’d caused you? Previously Jin was quite content with pining you from afar, indulging in the idea of you rather than the real you which would bear consequences for both of you but with you clinging onto him he had glimpsed behind the veil and the veil refused to close.

At times, he became tempestuous, gaming angrily while casting furtive glances at the phone, weighing the options of giving you a call. Why shouldn’t he be with you? After all that he’s had to sacrifice and give up, his father should have no choice about the turns in his life!

But…he always weighed against it. The matter wasn’t just about him but it was about you as well and because of it…he’d rather not act. He’d follow the role he was set to act, dignified and polite, he would be what he should be and not give you any hard time.

That is until, just as dignified and polite, you cast yourself in an entirely different role — corner him one day at a beach, the last day of a vacation, and there atop of the cold sand with an ease and grace of a century passed, you kiss him, forever changing the meaning of the word “love”.

JH | Dacquoise? Or perhaps an opera cake? Both could potentially be too sweet. But dacquoise looked pretty, however, opera cake had chocolate and one couldn’t go wrong with chocolate…

“Shopping for your girlfriend, mister?” the girl by the counter asks sweetly and immediately Hoseok smiles behind the mask. Lately just the thought of you tugged at the corners of his lips with a heavy hand.

“No, it’s actually for my,” the smile flickers “Teacher.”

In the end, he leaves the shop with a sizable chunk of swiss roll.

Bad Hoseok, crazy Hoseok, dummy Hoseok, he curses himself, trailing despondently down the road. Who would be so moronic as to start crushing on his own tutor?

“Ah, really, you’ve lost your shit, brother,” he mutters underneath the nose, falling heavily against someone's apartment building, careful not to damage the swiss roll dangling in the crook of his elbow.

“Mr Jung?”

Hoseok disjoined himself from the wall with a sudden start. With your slippers dragging against the concrete, you jogged over, fretfully glimpsing around the half-emptied street.

“When you said you’d drop by for a visit, I thought you were joking.”

With feigned innocence, he swings on the balls of his feet, growing flustered underneath the weight of your disapproving glare.

He was not nearly as innocent as he pretended. Would an innocent man utilise your soft spot for him to be forgiven? Would he beg and grovel to be accepted as a student with the hopes of it…leading to more? Would an innocent man lay awake at deep night and dream of things that were decidedly not innocent? Would he think of you scolding him with a smile of content?

Without the shadow of a doubt, Hoseok would be glad if you slapped him, as long as you touched him in the end.

No, an innocent man would not even dare entertain such a sinful idea. You still believed he was innocent and shamefully, horribly, selfishly he used that.

What a horrible man he was.

“Eyyy, how could I not visit when my favourite tutor moves apartments?” gently, he shakes you by the shoulder. “Let’s eat cake!”

“But—!”

“Let’s go!”

No, an innocent man would not grasp your hand as an excuse.

“Not, this again,” you growl in between bites of the swiss roll. There is no furniture and as such you both have to sit on the floor, using bendy plastic forks as utensils.

“The view is nice. Seodaemun-gu is a better choice, for sure.”

“Mr Jung!”

“Hoseok, please!”

Nearly in tears from exasperation, you cry out:

“Hoseok, please.”

The grin from his face disappears entirely as he took in the fraught state of your eyes. Was he…being cruel to you somehow?

“I like you, I really do,” his heart makes an uncomfortable leap and even you seem to catch on to the choice of wording, swallowing nervously as you did. “A-as a student I mean but I still quit as a tutor, there’s no way—”

“Yes, there is,” calmly, he puts the fork down, inhaling a shuddery breath. The air smells of your perfume. He hadn’t yet thought of a way to ask the name for it without coming off as…creepy. “Private tutor. I pay you out of my own wallet. I’ve arranged with management that I’ll take all the official exams but without their oversight.”

Just me and you.

“Mr Jung—”

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseok—”

“I’ll pay you 3 million won per month.”

“Still—”

“A million per meeting.”

If feasible, there would be smoke coming out from your nostrils.

“Dear Hoseok,” your lips blossom into a wide smile and he shudders, falling abruptly silent. That smile meant he’s going to get kicked to the moon.

“Do you want to learn a good English phrase?”

“Of course, I do!"

“BRO, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME SPEAK!”

Even you yourself seemed to be somewhat taken by the outburst. Blushing slightly, you cough, adjusting a strand of unperturbed hair.

“What I mean is money is not the issue. I already got a job translating documents for a firm nearby but what I mean is…”

Eagerly, Hoseok waits.

“What you mean is?” he continues, the thrumming of his heart so loud, he fears you’d hear it.

You gnaw on your lip, gaze flickering wildly all over his face.

“What I mean is,” you struggle out. “I...I…”

“You…?”

“I don’t think I’m the best tutor for you.”

Like a bucket of ice cold water, the sentence washes over him and Hoseok suddenly realises how close he’d leaned into you. With an embarrassed cough of his own he regains the proper distance.

“Nonsense. Isn’t that for me to decide? As your student,” the word sits bitter on his tongue. “I ought to choose what method of teaching is best for me. And you’re the best for me. Am I not the best for you?”

So far from an innocent man.

Your gaze slowly averts away and the way he relishes its shyness is almost perverse.

“Nah, you’re the best,” quietly, you remark, biting on a piece of swiss roll.

PJM | Two girls at the front of the club line were enjoying their conversation. Jimin was also enjoying their conversation.

“There’s that person here tonight. Eun-Chae swears she saw them coming in.”

“The one who made those pretty earrings she had last month? Ahh, I’m so jealous!”

“Hmm. Rumour is they’re really underground but if you get an invite from someone who's already been their client, they take you on.”

“Oh, really? How did Eun-Chae get it then?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to say this…” the girl with the long hair trailed off and even Jimin trailing behind her to get into the club could hardly control the scoff that threatened to break out of him. Not supposed to say this. Did she not know that once those words were spoken any true gossiper would drink seas of blood to hear such a delicious piece of information.

“But!”

Ah, so she did have some mercy.

“But apparently she got an invite from an undisclosed member of Stray Kids.”

As they both squealed, Jimin parted ways with the two women, easily blending into the nightclub. The fact that an underground jeweller was here did not surprise him. This particular club attracted all sorts of creative scenes. He didn’t much care for it, really, that is until he saw you. Hunched over the vomit littered stairs with a pair of pliers in between your hands you were working on what seemed to be an intricate piece of necklace.

Surreptitiously, Jimin snuck closer, mostly because he’d come alone here tonight. Without friends it was boring as all hell. Watching you work soon proved to be incredibly fascinating. The way that the space between your eyebrows wrinkled, how precisely your eyes focused on each individual detail. How you were able to regain calm and professionalism even amidst the chaos of sweaty bodies and pounding bassline. You cradled these pieces with the same care people did their children…or pets. It truly was a fascinating sight that Jimin could relate to.

Fast forward some months forth, he now also realises that it’s the sight he’s utterly fallen in love with.

“You’re breathing on my neck.”

The grumpiness in your tone rouses him from the memory and Jimin finds himself firmly planted in the present. With his chin perched on the curve of your shoulder, he watches carefully as your lithe fingers string the small pearls one by one. He wonders how would they feel caressing his bare skin. Would they tickle? Would they be warm?

“Am I? My sincere apologies.”

“You lying, little—!”

He flicks the back of your head.

“Ey, no swearing.”

You glare back at him, the only luminescence in the room being the small desk lamp you used at your workstation. Though Jimin couldn’t be absolutely sure where the border between what he wanted and what was differed but he knew for certain, there was something behind the way your gaze flickered to his lips and remained there for a touch too long.

He ran a tongue over his lips.

“You want to kiss?"

Your hand reaches upwards, abandoning the pearls and Jimin’s knees grow weak. He has to brace himself harder against the desk but it’s wholly useless as his arms come up by your sides. He’s caging you in? Nonsense! You’re the cager.

You flick him harshly against the forehead.

“Rich man stops being a perv when crossing the threshold into my home. Rule 12.”

“So many rules…” Jimin sulks, cradling the now sore spot. “You’re such a control freak.”

“So what if I am?” you toss over the shoulder, bringing your attention back to the pearls. It was both of your decision that the layered pearls would be a statement piece for an upcoming photoshoot. That is another thing he loves about you. You never insist upon him wearing chains or dainty pieces, you go for the middle. That same middle that he liked.

“Masculine, feminine,” he remembers you scoffing harshly one night. “If I make it, it’s just jewelry above all.”

For now he decides to leave you alone. Even if you like him, he knows you wouldn’t hesitate to toss him out by the scruff. That was the third thing he loves about you. Third thousand that is. While you work, he gleefully immerses himself into observing your home. He tidies a book or a blanket here and there, mostly to occupy the time.

Lador shampoo. He spots one in the bathroom. Should he tell you that he saw you use it and now uses it himself just so that his hair would smell like yours and he’d have something to serve as a reminder of you when going away?

No…that’s a bit unhinged. He’d accidentally spilled that piece of information to Yoongi and the man had been a hair strand away from calling the police.

“It’s not that weird,” he pouts to himself. “At least I’m not a stalker.”

Well, he did get your address from that undisclosed member of Stray Kids…

Faint scratching against the window brings his gaze up from the shitty kitchen tiles to the even shittier window and its half broken blinds.

“Nori!” he greets the tabby cat warmly. “Are you hungry?”

“STOP CANOODLING MY CAT, PARK!” your yell shakes the air before he can even reach for the can of open tuna. “You’re allergic to fur. Get your ass back here!”

He doesn’t dare to not oblidge.

“Look at you, sitting all pretty,” you purr, clasping the necklace shut.

Smarmily, Jimin runs a hand through his hair.

“Why thank you.”

For a second, your face scrunches as it does when you’re thinking something deeply but then the creases smoothe out and you toss him a half-hearted glare.

“Obviously I meant the necklace.”

“Was it that obvious?”

You reach to flick his forehead once more but this time Jimin catches your hand. Though the sly smirk growing upon his face is wiped with a bold stroke as he feels the numerous cuts marring the skin.

Sternly, he inspects them, wrapping his fingers tighter around yours as you struggle to pull away.

“No one did this to you, did they?” his voice drops an octave and unbeknownst to him, your breath catches in the middle of the throat. Park Jimin — forever a mystery, an onion gradually unfolding his many sides.

“Of course, not,” with feigned ease you reply, trying to take your hand back. He does not let it. “It’s just…collateral damage.”

“Your body is not collateral damage.”

“They’re just hands, Jimin.”

“Not even one inch,” he concluded sternly, not a millimeter in his expression or lilt of his voice freeing up the space for a debate to unfold.

Your fingers are cold, he finds out. But that’s okay, he’ll warm them up for you.

KTH | House, also referred to as "playing house" or "play grown up", is a traditional children's game. It's a form of make believe where players take on the roles of a family.

Though what is happening now is set in reality, in a way, Taehyung is playing a form of make believe.

By now it’s been well observed. 15 minutes into a movie and you’re passed out. Not even a night of solid drinking could make a person this unconscious. The make believe in this situation wasn’t scheduling a hang out at his place, it wasn’t the fact that he’d offered to watch a movie while fully knowing of your tendency to fall asleep, it’s not even wrapping his hand around your shoulder and letting his head rest atop of yours. It’s the dreaming that was fake. The endless hope that one of these days he would do something, that you would do something. Every once in a while, he gets the feeling that you might like him. But it’s gone so soon, he inevitably ends up presuming it’s just in his head.

Wasn’t it?

The blue glow of the screen illuminates your features with an eerie glow and even as someone screams, being chainsawed in half, you don’t move an inch. Now, a boyfriend would lift you up and bring you to the bed, covering your form with a warm blanket and then sliding in. But boyfriends were allowed to do so. That, however, is the fine line where comes the end of his game of house. Some things are simply not allowed.

Gently, he shakes you awake and blinking blearily, you let a pitiful mumble of confusion.

“Tae?”

His heart clenches.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t you have to go home?”

In the deluded state that you’re in, you throw both arms around his neck and mumble sleepily into the crook of his neck:

“Don’t wanna. Let me crash here.”

To stab already his bleeding heart, you add:

“Please?”

How could he possibly say no to you?

Falling in love with your friend is technically not a crime but Taehyung thinks that it should be. It’s nothing short of criminal — the level of delusion he entertains whilst adjusting his shirt to sit lower on your body. He should be arrested for the gentleness and care he takes in helping you to measly finish your skincare routine. It is sinful that he has the gall to pretend that this is anything but a series of utterly selfish actions. He gets to play house. He gets to play your boyfriend. He gets to slide underneath the covers with you, laying an arm around your waist and watching you slumber, peaceful and at ease.

JJK | Jungkook's part has been upgraded to a oneshot! Read it here!

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms;

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alicerosejensen · 1 year

Text

Wicked games

summary: You feel that your feelings for Leon have already cooled down and you see only one way out of this situation - to break up with him.

Warning: nothing special. To be honest, this is a weakly restraining agnst and parting with a partner on the part of the reader.

Written to the song “ Wicked Games” by Parra For Cuva (feat. Anna Naklab)

"Sorry ladies but i'm one-woman man"

You thought that it was clearly not addressed to you. Be that as it may, and whatever relationship you had with Leon, for him it was clearly a temporary hobby. Just an attempt to brighten up time while waiting for the elusive woman in red.

On the one hand, it looks like jealousy, but on the other hand... you didn't feel anything.

There was no anger, resentment or disappointment. There was not an iota of jealousy. You thought this was a temporary phenomenon, because it happens when ardent feelings begin to dull. But more and more often you realized that you had burned out like a match, which quickly lit up with boundless (as you thought then) love and also quickly began to go out.

You became uncomfortable with his company and his attentions, which made you start avoiding your boyfriend constantly looking for different excuses. Help bestie? Urgent household chores? Did the roommate ask you to move the furniture? Did the hamster die? this is taking into account the fact that you have never had a hamster. Some of the excuses were so stupid that Leon raised his eyebrows to the top, sincerely not believing that the reason given was really serious enough not to go to an expensive restaurant with him.

And then you lied to him that you had a serious cold, so you'll stay with your parents for now. Leon just sighed heavily into the phone and muttered something like "okay." In fact, it was good. You breathed a sigh of relief as you threw the mobile phone on the bed, knowing full well that you were doing the most shitty thing with it. But you absolutely didn't want to bicker with him and start trying to dissuade him from following you (because if that had happened, Leon would have realized that there is no illness). The worst part is that you didn't feel any guilt about yourself. The feeling of wrongness - yes, it was present, but in order to muffle it, you repeatedly told yourself "He is also too often not around." Of course, it's all because of his work and Leon immediately warned that he was away from home for a long time, but then, inspired by love and those very hormones of happiness, it seemed to you that it was nothing.

Everything was so beautiful… The world seemed completely different. You loved that feeling of being in love, but now you have to wonder.

Did you love Leon?

You had amazing sex and aftercare. Leon was never rude (if only a little to maintain passion), and the rest of the time gentle and caring. He always kissed you deeply and sensually, making butterflies flutter in your stomach… and you were always there for him when he needed it so much.

Leon was ready to give his life for such love. For you. After all, he often just kissed you when you were cooking or sleeping, on the neck, forehead, cheeks… He likes your cheeks so much. Hugs were an integral part of this relationship, and for Leon they were of great value. Much more than sex.

He never forgot about you. Even in his sleep, he clung to you, as if he was afraid that you were about to disappear if he let you go. And for the first year and a half of the relationship, everything was fine with you. Dates, gifts, all this wonderful love... But love seems to really live for three years. In your case, just one and a half and another six months of useless attempts to convince yourself that you still love him.

Actually, part of you hoped that after meeting Ada Wong Leon again, he would remember about his feelings for this woman and you could calmly leave him, saying to yourself, "He hasn't loved me for a long time, or maybe he didn't love me at all." But fate plays evil games, especially with you. Leon confessed his devotion to you when you allegedly doubted the sincerity of his feelings.

“It's all right, my sweet girl... so good. Don't doubt me. I'm only with you and you're only mine...”

Leon whispered these sweet words to you while making love to you, not wild unrestrained sex. He kissed and stroked sensitive places, watching the reaction on your face, trying to convince you that no one else is interested in him. You and only you. Maybe he always came to you?

What used to make you bloom like a May rose now causes a burning sensation in your eyes and a heavy lump in your throat. Leon moved carefully covering every inch of your body with kisses, tasting you, and all you could think was what a bitch you are.

You lie to him in order not to meet him when he is ready to throw himself into the fire for you; you come up with various excuses so that he does not bother you, while he uses every free minute to be with you. And when you finally sob loudly from the overwhelming sense of guilt for your behavior, for the guilt that you no longer love him... it makes him stop and start calming you down. All Leon was thinking about was that he hurt you with a careless move or scared you because of the difference in your size. He pulled you to him, sitting you on his lap, imprinting random kisses on your face and shoulders, constantly apologizing to you.

But you should apologize. How can you deceive him?! But at the same time, if you tell him that the feelings have passed, won't it break his heart? Did Leon deserve it?

He took you to the bathroom, taking a shower with you, constantly asking if anything hurts you, hell, he even offered to go to the hospital if he suddenly hurt you with his passion, Leon didn't deserve the shit that you could pour on him. So you just lied...

Again.

Like you're such a stupid girl who was worried about his relationship with Ada. Pretend to be a fool... you're starting to do well. Leon scooped up your body in an harmful, putting you to sleep in a shared bed, repeating only one thing: he loves only you.

That's what you were starting to hate. And yourself and the part of him that loves you. In the end, he is called back to the devil in the middle of nowhere, and he reluctantly says goodbye to you, promising that he will solve this issue as soon as possible in order to return to you again. And you didn't want to admit it, but you felt it... easement. When the plane on which Leon left the country took off, it was as if your lungs were able to breathe deeply again.

Then the time of entertainment begins. No, you don't cheat on him with others, but if earlier it seemed wrong to you to have fun when your boyfriend is risking his life, now it is taken for granted. And yet is it right? Leon left you a little gift so that you wouldn't miss him too much, and tears flowed down your cheeks again clutching an expensive gold bracelet. The feeling was that as soon as you start accumulating strength for parting, something always knocks you down, not allowing you to do it.

The whole situation is tearing you to pieces, leaving skin and bones. Maybe if there was a replacement for Leon, the situation would not be so difficult? Maybe it would be easier for you to break up with him? But the trouble is that your heart does not feel any love feelings for anyone. Therefore, you are again engaged in self-deception, constantly telling yourself that feelings have just cooled down a little, but love has not passed. Just need to catch up. In fact, you still love Leon, this is an ordinary difficult period in a relationship.

You just have to look at joint photos more often, wear his gifts more often and not give up spending time together when he returns from missions.

But to hell with it.

Deceive yourself as much as you want, and the fucking butterflies in your stomach have all died out for a long time, leaving nothing. These fucking hormones of happiness no longer give you an intoxicating mood when you are ready to dump mountains for the sake of your beloved. And there is no attraction to Leon anymore: neither physical nor amorous.

In fact, there is nothing else but irritation.

You tried. Honestly tried to pull out of myself this affection for him again, but even Leon noticed these inept attempts to show his love. And more and more often he looked down, licking his lips, as if he had understood everything for a long time, but he was waiting Suddenly everything will still get better, because he loves you? You are like sun that warms him after meeting B.O.W. A person with whom he can lean his soul against his soul. Therefore, he does not abandon these useless attempts to regain what he has lost, because it cannot be that you made him feel love by allowing him to dream about himself, and then show heartlessness by pushing him away.

The world is breaking his heart again.

As if before that you carefully glued together the broken pieces of his heart, kissing every crack and scar on his soul. Gently stroked his head when he woke up from nightmares and you were better than any alcohol, allowing him to forget these horrors at least for a while. As an anesthetic with a pleasant aftereffect. Your love and care brought back to life that rookie cop full of dreams and hopes.

With you, he had the normal life of an ordinary civilian. Even for a short time. Like a warm cocoon that he liked to wrap himself in.

Actually, he liked the idea that he could even start a family with you. Buy a house somewhere in the suburbs, quietly marry you and make a baby Kennedy, and then live together until old age (if he lives to see her). Maybe the DSO could let him go from his position as an agent?

He could train newcomers, give them advice so that they could live a little longer, and return home to his family in the evening. Have dinner with homemade food, play with your child every now and then holding your eyes on family photos, and in the summer go on vacation from which no one else will pull him out. Leon even allowed himself to dream how you and his child are walking along the beach in a short summer dress and a cute hat, running merrily on the warm sand. And your baby is laughing loudly in his arms.

It was too perfect a life.

The life he had always dreamed of. The Life he was deprived of. The kind of life he wanted to risk building.

A dream that has remained a dream.

Leon knows that he is also partly to blame for this. You won't be nice by force, and everything he could do, he did. It's just that this fucking job takes away from her everything he values and loves. Loses a lot of good people, doesn't have time to save them and watches you wring your fingers in an attempt to hide your nervousness. Maybe if he could give it all up, not be away from you so much, then everything would be fine...

“Forgive me” - is all you can say because you're afraid to even look at him. Leon puts his glass on the counter, shaking its contents. As a medicine with which he himself will heal his wounds.

You know he doesn't deserve all this. No one should break his heart anymore, and you were sure that you would stay with him until the end, but something in the world ordered otherwise.

It would also be wrong to deceive him. Of the two evils, you have chosen the least, now watching the consequences of your choice. His dark blue eyes were full of sadness because of another breakup, and no one could tell what kind of hell was going on inside him right now. It's quiet outside. Inside, everything is torn apart.

It was a very wicked game, on your part, although he understands that your fault is not here. He never dreamed of falling in love with a girl like you. And yet it hurts. Leon walks around the table you're sitting at and just sits down next to you. He doesn't persuade to stay, he doesn't shout out words of love, he just squeezes out a smile.

"You should have loved me" but instead, he utters completely different words, allowing you to leave without any quarrel. It's like letting go of your palm for the last time from his hand.

“I understand.” - He looks at the bracelet that he gave you, which you are now returning to him, and Leon takes the jewelry from cold fingers to fasten it on your wrist. - “Keep it for yourself. I gave it to you. Take care of yourself, y/n”

No one is to blame for anything. He knows that you acted honestly and knows that there was no cheating.

But still, a forgotten glass of alcohol falls to the floor, shattering as soon as your footsteps die down outside the door.

“The girl is only gonna break you heart.” someone told him then. It didn't matter now.

Nobody loves no one.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil x you #agnst

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reallyromealone · 11 months

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Hi Hi hope your having a good day

I saw these two and I had an idea for a request so the reader one day goes to a pet store to get a pet hamster like their ready they’ve done the research they have the perfect and spacious cage and he spots these two and they remind him of the kawata twins so he gets both and names they angry and smiley and maybe one day the actual kawata twins see the hamsters and get a bit jealous cause the kawata hamsters are taking the readers attention

I used to own a hamster so I know a lot

🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷

"Tank... Mixed bedding for maximum nesting and no pine..." And everything a hamster would need, many hides and a huge clear bin he converted into a tank, the lid cut open and chicken wire out on top.

(Name)s neighbors daughters hamsters had babes, the little girl letting (name) get first pick and (name) was in awe at the cute little critters, the babes absolutely adorable.

Then he saw them.

A pinkish tan hamster and a bluish grey hamster "you alright if I take those ones?" (Name) asked the young girl who looked at them "sure, the pink ones mean anyways"

(Name) was happy as he brought the two hamsters home, finding they reminded him of a certain pair of twins "let's not let it get to their heads, you will be...happy and you will be... Mr.sad face" (name) said with a giggle at the play on the twins nicknames, letting them explore and acclimate to their new environment.

"So what the fuck did you want us to see?" Smiley asked taking off his shoes and angry looked equally curious as they followed (name) to his bedroom, the men were a bit tired from work and the idea of following their boyfriend to his room bad them... Interested.

"I got hamsters! They're going to the livingroom but I just want them in a quiet area to acclimate" (name) said and the twins looked at the small creatures who had all of (name)s attention seemingly, crawling into his hand and being generally sweet but when the twins got close they fucking hissed "rude" angry said to the small rodents and smiley gave them the finger.

"They just gotta get used to you!"

Weeks passed and the hamsters did not Infact grow comfortable with the twins, if anything they got more hostile.

And they took (name)s attention.

When the hamsters were moved to the livingroom, the twins practically dog piled the poor man, snuggling and kissing him "give us attention you shit" smiley demanded and (name) huffed with a soft smile "fine you big babies"

Every visit after, (name) gave his boyfriends a kiss and the twins politely told the hamsters to go fuck themselves.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #smiley x male reader #angry x male reader

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sillyguy99 · 2 months

Text

There is no fear in love

(Mafiafell Sans x Reader)

Chapter One: Rude Awakening

[Index | Next]

Notice:

(The reader has a nun name, meaning: a holy name given to be used by others in place of a real name, such as “Sister Magdalene” instead of just “(Y/N)”, in this specific case.)

(Also, if this work seems familiar, that is because this is the definitive version of Pray that you will not fall into temptation, since I merged various, similar plot ideas for a Mafiafell fic into one, in order to make the story more fleshed out + provide more consistent, weekly updates!)

• • • • •

"Mom!"

The watering can falls from your hand at the sound of that voice. It clatters and the little water left splashes your shoes as it hits the rocky floor, yet you can't care less about picking it up when you see Frisk running towards you, their arms outstretched, smile radiant, and eyes glossy. You push yourself off the ground, though with struggle as your legs shake and give in from anticipation. It takes a few more seconds of stumbling until you're finally able to stand up straight, and – by the time you do – they're already in your arms, their light weight barely making you budge regardless of your current, weak self. Everything around you: the garden, the fountain, the picnic table, and even your own body feel unearthly, and you're certain it'll all end the moment you take too long to blink.

"Words can't describe how much I've missed you, dear," you state, almost in a whisper when you fail to raise your voice, sorrow making it difficult to do without breaking.

You hug Frisk as tight as the knot on your chest. Tears rush down, staining your arms until you hide your face against their shoulder and squeeze all your distress away. They feel fragile in your grasp, and fleeting, too – like letting go will cause them to crumble, then disappear. As much as you don't want to, you still begin to loosen up bit by bit until your embrace is a gentler touch, almost ghostly. Then, you pull back and wipe your face with a handkerchief you retrieve from your pocket, and offer your child another when you notice they're in a similar state, although not as bad as your own. Even if it isn't real, the last thing you wish is to let them see you somber. That's about the least you can do to make up for how many faults you've found while analyzing the reasons they went missing under your care.

"hey, kid. where'd ya run off to? ya can't just-"

Your arms act instinctively at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, these wrapping firm around Frisk again, like a snake with a hamster, minus the intent to cause any harm.

"oh."

The person behind that voice stands at the entrance of the garden, and – while you try your best not to – your mind ends up jumping to negative conclusions when you see just what type of monster he is.

"Stay back!" Fearing the dream has become a nightmare, you close your eyes and squeeze Frisk harder, yet you soon loosen when they gasp for a breath. "And state your reason for visiting first."

"well…"

You hear footsteps, but you refuse to look at him.

"i'm sans, one of your kid's friends from the underground," he says. "frisk told us they couldn't stay with tori, since they've got another mom up here, and now here i am. they gave me your address, we gathered some info to make sure you were still around, and then i drove us here. the rest of the convent interrogated me before they told me to go straight to the garden, so you can ask 'em if you're suspicious." There's a brief spell of peace and quiet as you hear him debate about something with himself. "sorry if this's kinda nosy, but…" There's a long pause in his words. "how does that work, exactly? you havin' a kid, i mean. aren't nuns supposed to be married to, uh, god, and not, well… a husband?"

You scoff and feel your face form a glower on its own. "I'm not married, and Frisk isn't my biological child, though… I don't really see that detail as relevant to my love for them." Your fingers bury into Frisk's hair as you stroke their bangs away and kiss their forehead. "It matters not whether they're biologically mine."

They shift, kiss your cheek, and push you aside, then tug at your sleeve persistently, insisting without a word for you to address the elephant in the room.

You sigh, breathe back in, and open your eyes.

It's impossible not to flinch when you take a better look at the monster: far less daunting than you were expecting, but still the most unnatural thing you've witnessed since having to interfere with a violent human at the front of the orphanage. The skeleton wears a black suit with hints of red, and the grin he carries appears shielded with dishonesty, contrasting with his direct and unwavering stare. Though the feeling of uneasiness differs from peering into the eyes of someone who has no fear of taking a life away, gazing into his irises still brings about uncertainty. You can't digest how detailed his body is, and how what little bones are exposed from his suit move in sync with each step he takes. It's like watching the most realistic, computer-generated creature in the real world rather than in film. What makes it a chilling experience is that he's actively acknowledging your presence, and that his irises follow your movements as you dust your clothes and fix yourself up after the messy hug.

He's not much taller than you or even Frisk, and yet...

You feel small, and how broad his body seems contributes to that.

"They had gone missing three months ago, and I…" You bring your hands together and bite back another tear, then face the ground to avoid meeting with what looks like Death, but formally dressed. "I can't express how much I grieved over their disappearance." Momentary courage allows you to look at him directly. "Who are you to my child? And… Who is this 'Tori' person?"

A chilly breeze of awareness arrives when you unclasp your hands and stare at your palms to see traces of soil smeared on your skin, most of it you believe is now wiped off on Frisk's attire.

"Frisk!" you exclaim, eyes broadening as you look next to you. "I forgot I-"

They're already standing in front of the skeleton, with their arms fully extended as they wait while he searches through his suitcase.

He retrieves a full set of clothes, a hair pin, and a stuffed teddy bear, then pats their head before they run off inside the church.

If you were jumpy before – even with the company of Frisk – now being alone with the skeleton leads to your body turning awfully rigid, and for a stiffer silence to build up between you.

"do ya have some time to spare, miss?" he asks, zipping the suitcase closed and throwing it over his shoulder. "i needa talk to ya 'bout Frisk."

This has to be a dream, at least.

There's no way you're staring at a breathing, moving, talking skeleton who'd somehow been left in charge of sending Frisk off towards you.

You should've known today wasn't real since the local news announced that a large crowd of monsters of all shapes and kinds had emerged from the Underground, like some sort of Halloween Horror film.

"It's my first time seeing them in months," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. "Of course, I do!" You stare at your hands again. "But... Could you allow me a minute to wash up?" Then, you glance at your uniform. "I've been gardening since early morning."

Whether this is all a dream or a nightmare, you should at least look presentable for either outcome.

"sure." He shrugs. "take your time."

• • • • •

You throw half a strawberry at a bird in your garden, lured by the sweet scents of the food you've set up on the table.

It flies off back into a tree when it picks up the treat, and – when you're positive there's no other hungry animal waiting nearby – you throw the other half on the flowers and watch as the leaves rustle and stop when reaching the spot.

Your next chore is to wash your hands by the faucet near the garden and continue setting up the rest of the table when you return.

"ya know," Sans says, sitting on the chair you gesture him over to. "from what frisk told me about you, i was kinda expectin' a lady older than tori herself."

You finish pouring tea to look at him and lift an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

Although left without an answer, you push on by arranging some shortbread cookies and thinly sliced fruit on a pair of ceramic plates while you wait for him to say something.

He's observing your every move, and there's a limit to how much of that you can tolerate, but fear causes you to keep your mouth shut and carry on.

"and it makes a lotta sense."

"...Care to elaborate, sir?"

Still being out in the garden is what has kept you sane this whole time. Were you in an enclosed space with the skeleton, you wouldn't have lasted a second. There's just something wrong about looking at him and being aware he's a living creature – that he has a human's level of intelligence, and that he's judging you for acting like an old lady in spite of being in your twenties. You want this to end, yet if this is your punishment for not being a good enough mother, then you're bound to push on. You just have to be patient. And you just have to try not to… widen your eyes every occasion you figure out anything new about him. The basics – while covered – are already overwhelming on their own, but actually seeing him laugh and joke around like any other human drives you mad.

"you're makin' me tea, servin' me cookies, insistin' ya do every little thin' yourself," he says, touching a finger from his right hand with his left index finger for each observation he lists, "you're good with birds – probably other animals, too, and you're wearin' a type of dress only someone over her sixties would wear," he remarks, unwinding with a breath out when he shows all those statements take up his entire hand, "that's already five things, and i'm barely just gettin' to know ya. when did ya start out as a nun, anyway?"

Porcelain and ceramic clink as you set what's now unneeded away and leave only the cookies, fruit, tea, and communion items out on the table.

"Since my eighteenth birthday. It's been thirteen years."

You prepare the communion, first by setting aside a piece of sacramental bread, and then a small portion of grape wine in a paper cup.

"whoa." He whistles. "since that early?"

You ignore his comments while you finish setting everything else up, the last thing being to bless both the food and the communion. You then stand up, pick up the tray with the bread and wine, and offer it to him. How fast your heart races makes it so that your fingers shake as you grab the bread.

"Open your, um…" You frown. "How does your skull work?"

"you can touch, if you wanna."

Your eyes glue to his face, and inordinate curiosity fights with basic decency. He's a stranger, and yet he's being as casual as you would expect an old friend to be. You want to ask him to stop – that his existence alone as a skeleton is still something you're barely getting adjusted to, but common sense and more than enough years of your work in the convent have taught you better than that. Just as you're adjusting to him, he's likely doing with you and Frisk. Expecting him to act all formal would be rude, as would be him asking you to be casual around him. That's for friends, not strangers. Though if this really isn't some sort of Telephone game version of the classic Alice in Wonderland tale, then you hope you can both get used to one another later on.

"I shouldn't." Your gaze stays on his face. "But, then again…"

He chuckles, and his irises lighten up, something you've now associated with him being either happy or amused.

"Are you sure?"

"go wild."

You touch his cheekbone and press your thumb against it. The texture's similar to semi-hardened clay, and you leave a mark on his skull, though it fades after a few seconds. Worry stays at the thought of hurting him, so you brush your fingers at that spot again, softer this time.

"That's…" You pull back. "That's... interesting?"

He winks. "and you're great at describing it."

You stay quiet and shake your head, at a loss for words for what you feel to be the third occasion today – and it's still only one in the afternoon!

His teeth part as you move on to what you were doing. Despite physical contact, your heart's calmed down more, and you can stare at him for longer without questioning reality and science. With a long and steady breath, plus the reminder to keep calm, you pick up the bread again and drop it on…

…his tongue (?), then watch as he chews it and passes it down with the wine.

This is normal.

You're not delusional.

And the news report is completely legitimate.

What you have to do is convince yourself to believe all that.

"thanks for sharing a part of your world with me." He grins. "and for the blessin', too."

"It's not much, sir." You smile. "I'm... only thankful you've brought Frisk here, safe and sound."

His expression glooms on par with his posture.

Meanwhile, you set the tray back down and sit on the bench across from him.

The garden feels too calm now, as if nature itself has sensed the monster's shift in mood. You're tempted to ask him directly about what's brought about such a sudden change, yet you know you're in no place to do that. Frisk is sleeping off the exhaustion from their journey in the security of their bedroom, meaning that asking them to do it is completely out of the question – not to mention, you don't want them to do the work for you, nor impose anything as complicated as this on them. Growing restless, you pick up a cookie from your plate and munch on it during your wait. The amount of time that passes on is sufficient for you to eat two more, and even drink your first cup of tea.

"uh, yeah…" he says, mumbling. "'bout that…"

His gaze lifts from the grass to your eyes.

"frisk might've technically... died a few times during their journey through the underground. the only reason they're still alive is cuz of how things worked down there. didn't wanna pull that sorta bandage off so quickly, but i figured you should know this first before they tell ya about their experiences."

"...Wh- What?" you snap, standing up. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"afraid it isn't."

The last thing you can register as anger overcomes your heart is the sound of the tea cup hitting the ground with a crash, sending shards flying across the floor.

You march off towards him, stand in front, and point at the door leading out of the garden.

"Get the hell out of my church, you sick-minded beast!"

"please, let me explai-"

"Get. Out."

All you see is red as you lunge at the monster and grab him by his shirt's collar, lifting him off the chair.

Him weighing no more than Frisk allows you to take him to the nearest wall and slam him against it.

"...A bandage?" You cackle, disbelief manifesting through the noise. He doesn't struggle, so you pick that up as a sign for you to tug at him harder. "My child died, and you call that ripping off a mere bandage?" You press yourself against him when he starts to shift.

"there's more i-"

You cut him off again by tugging his tie along with the rest of his shirt.

"Shut up," you shout. "If this is a nightmare, you're more than welcome to disappear and let me go back to sleep. I... I want you out of my damn sight the second I release you!"

[Index | Next]

• • • • •

Tag List:

@itsberrydreemurstuff

#sans x reader #reader insert #undertale fanfiction #mafia fanfic #ao3 fanfic #underfell #mafiafell #mobfell #mafiafell sans #mobfell sans #female reader #chubby reader #nun reader #long fic #weekly updates

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