#writing for this also. nothing long. something similar to the promises post yeah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Post activity is at the highest at 4:00 pm EDT; notes peak at 10:00 pm EDT.

#writing for this also. nothing long. something similar to the promises post yeah

teaberrii · 2 months

Text

In the Cabin

Your move to another city ends up horribly wrong when you’re kidnapped by five men who mistake you for their real target. That still doesn’t stop them from having a little fun.

Sukuna/You | Toji/You | Getou/You | Gojo/You | Nanami/You

Warnings: Rape/Non-con, degradation, pet names Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Five chapters total

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Support my writing

Chapter 1: Sukuna

What time is it?

You have no idea.

What day is it?

You have no idea.

What are they going to do with you?

You have no fucking idea.

All you know is that one day you’re settling in your new home; the next you’re gagged, drugged, and tossed around in a car that led you to a cabin in the woods. Before ending up in this room that's oddly furnished, someone blindfolded you, tied your hands behind your back, and forced you to walk. But, he isn't acting alone.

You felt the presence of two others on either side of you as your shoes went from walking on dry, dead leaves and branches to a solid wooden floor. The damp, musty odour of the forest slowly morphed into something that smelled like a mix of fresh wood, cooked meat, and booze. Along with the steady footsteps of the others, you also occasionally heard the creak of the floorboards. You were suddenly made to stop, but you were not sure where. Then, you heard something akin to someone flopping onto a couch in front of you.

“Are you sure she's the right one?”

You heard calm footsteps behind you.

“She looks kinda different from the photo, doesn’t she?”

You almost winced from the strong scent of cigars.

“Kinda different?" Again with the footsteps. Then, a scoff. "They don’t look anything alike.”

“But the instructions say it’s the woman living at…”

The rest fell on deaf ears as you sensed someone in front of you, and you did your best to remain calm and collected when you felt large hands on your shoulder.

“Sukuna, what are you doing?”

"Research." Then, a long finger went underneath your chin and tilted your head up. “What’s your name?” You were trembling now, and as soon as you looked down, whoever stood in front of you immediately tilted your head back up. “Are you deaf? What. Is. Your. Name?”

So, you said it as calmly as you could.

The silence was deafening, and your palms started sweating. You nervously licked your lips as your heart raced out of fear.

“What were you doing in that house?”

It was another voice this time.

“I just moved there,” you said a little too quickly. “A few weeks ago.”

“Great. That confirms it. We were too late.”

“Yeah, and who’s to blame?”

“You’re no better than me, Loser.”

You winced when you heard something like a knife being forcefully stabbed into the wood.

"You're scaring her, Toji."

"And is that my problem?"

“I… I promise I won’t say anything,” you said. “Please just let me go.”

You never thought silence could be so frightening.

“Well…” You could put a name to a voice this time. This was Sukuna, and you could almost hear the smirk. “You're already here. It'd be awfully rude to just let you go without taking care of you first, Princess.”

And that’s how you end up in this small room that has nothing useful for your escape. You’re sure. You checked. Perhaps more than 100 times. But, it still has a bed, a small empty nightstand, a window that’s far too high for you to reach, and a bathroom with a working toilet, sink, and shower. The man who locked you in here left you with literally nothing but the clothes off your back. The only positive is that you’re no longer blindfolded and restrained.

You’re sitting on the very edge of the bed when the door suddenly opens. You immediately stand and see a tall man with pink spiked hair slightly pushed up at the front. There are odd markings on his face with similar ones on his toned upper body that are loosely covered by a black tank top. He has a hand in the deep pocket of his black pants when he ominously closes and locks the door behind him.

“Comfortable?”

His voice is deep, and he’s looking at you like a lion at his prey.

“What do you want?” you ask coldly.

He keeps walking, and you keep stepping back until you feel the wall behind you.

“What’s with that tone?”

Then, he smiles, one that raises all kinds of alarms and sends a chill to the very tips of your toes. You quickly move to the side, but he effortlessly grabs your wrist. No matter how much you struggle, he eventually pins you against the wall, the place right where he wants you.

"You think you can get away?" he asks in that disgustingly honeyed voice. His grip tightens around your wrists so much that it hurts. "Perhaps this is fate that we found you instead, Princess."

"Why are you keeping me here if I'm not the one you're fucking looking for?"

"We make the best out of every situation." His gaze lands on your lips and then back at your eyes. His smile grows bigger. “See, here’s the thing…” He leans closer, and you turn your head away. But then you feel his lips on your neck, and you attempt to kick him when his hands fly from your wrists to your knees. He forces your legs open and wedges himself between them before his hands find his brutal grip around your wrists again. “The others don’t want you to leave. But…” He bites your neck, and you let out a short scream because of the unexpected pain. “I’ll let you under one condition.”

As much as you want to move, you can’t out of fear and horror that you’ll rub against something you don’t want to.

“Stop…” You feel his bites travelling past your collarbone. “Stop!”

His hand is around your neck, making you look like a fish out of water. His grip is teasing, allowing you air and then forcefully taking it away. You’re desperately clawing at his hand as he says:

“Talkative women are such a pain in the fucking ass.”

His mouth is on yours as his hand snakes to the back of your head and into your hair to keep you in place. Your mind is frantic, your heart is racing, and your body is trembling at the bold and unwelcome intimacy. Suddenly, he thrusts his hips, forcing a gasp, which is when he slides his impatient tongue into your mouth.

He tastes like strong alcohol, but it’s oddly your favourite kind. Your hands on his shoulders slowly loosen their grip as your mind slowly turns to mush with how he takes your breath away and gives it back. No. It’s wrong. You don’t want this. You shouldn’t want this. But his insistent mouth coupled with his hungry and dominating tongue spins you round and round and round… until you can’t tell right from wrong.

The arrogant smirk you feel when you kiss him back is the single sign he needs. Well, not that he needs one.

His lower half keeps you against the wall as his hands rip your shirt and it falls onto the floor beside him. The blaring alarms in your head are screaming at you, but his kisses give you no opportunity for any objections until…

“Now, this is how I like my women.”

Your eyes widen at his low voice, and in the blink of an eye, your beautiful breasts are exposed to him.

“Wait…” you say, but the breathlessness in your voice gives you away. "Stop!"

You let out another choked cry when his hand finds your neck. The other forcefully squeezes what’s been on his mind ever since he saw you. His thumb circles your nipple, and he loosens the grip around your neck just enough for you to gasp.

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” he asks. His teeth nip your bottom lip. “I hate talkative women.”

He keeps his hand around your neck, silencing your cries as your pants and panties are the next to go. He chuckles as he grabs your ankle when you try to kick him. He keeps your leg raised as he smiles which you can only describe as psychotic.

“I thought you were enjoying this just as much as I am.” He leans close to your face, and you smell the alcohol that you love on his breath. “You’re only making it easier for me.” His gaze takes its time wandering down your fully naked body. “A body like that… You’re definitely one of a kind.”

He dips his head between your legs, and the satisfied, breathless gasp that leaves your trembling lips erases what’s left of your fraying dignity. His hungry beast of a tongue ravages you, drawing sounds that should only be heard between lovers. Yet, here you are with your eyes shut tight, unable to control your twisted desire to want more. His hands are on your inner thighs, keeping your legs open, as he plays you like a fucking fiddle. This isn’t right. You know it’s not right, but he knows how to make you crumble faster than anyone has ever had. When he strikes fire, your pent-up frustration pours into his mouth where he savours every taste.

Shame. Disgust. Relief.

That’s all you feel when he gets the reward for his work. But to him, he relishes in the pleasure of getting the delicious taste of you and a satisfying moan that’s like music to his ears. He arrogantly licks his lips while standing upright but keeps your body against the wall with his lower half.

"Well, fuck, you taste better than what I've had in a while, Princess."

You quietly whimper when he releases his heavy sex from the constraints of his pants. Your body trembles yet the sight fuels an adrenaline you’ve never felt before. You know he’s expecting you to cuss him out. But, you don’t. Instead, you spit on his face, and then you say:

“Fuck you.”

You attempt to run, but you don't get far when he grabs you, forcefully pushes you against the wall, and pries your legs open. His eyes turn dark, and you scream when you feel the strong force of his fully erected sex into yours. It’s only one thrust but it hits a place deep inside of you, a place no lover has ever explored before. Soon, your feet are no longer touching the floor. One leg rests on his arm while his hand is on your ass. Your other leg drapes loosely beside his narrow waist, and his other hand is beside your head.

“The only thing I like about talkative women”—his smile curls into a nasty smirk—”is how much I can make them scream.”

His unrelenting thrusts make tears fall from your eyes. You’ve had rough lovers, but this man… you can feel that he chases his pleasure alone.

“Hngh..." you breathe in between the grunts and the quiet pants.

You close your eyes as the pain you feel dissolves into pure, twisted bliss.

Your legs are dangling on either side, and both of his hands are beside your head as your walls tightly clench around him every time he thrusts back in, drawing the lewdest of noises from your sweet mouth.

He’s had his share of women, but you… no, your sex is nothing like he’s ever had. You hug him as tight as a glove, refusing to let him leave the place that feels like it belonged to him.

Eventually, your legs wrap tightly around him, and your hips fall into rhythm with him. His hands grab your ass, forcing you to move faster as his eyes wander from your increasingly lewd expressions to your bouncing breasts that rub against him with every bounce.

What a fucking sight.

Your thighs clench around him, and when he pushes into you again, both of you come undone.

You feel the low rumble of his chuckle. You want to get away from him, but he tightly squeezes your ass, and you feel his high deep inside your womb. Then, when you can’t feel it anymore, he suddenly lets you go. The strength in your legs hasn’t returned, so you drop to the floor as some of his seed flows out from your sex.

“How fun was that?” he asks with a grin. “I’d do it all over again.”

By the time you get to your feet, he already has his pants on.

“You exceeded my expectations.” He looks over his shoulder at your ripped clothes. "I’ll think about convincing the others to let you go.”

You clench your fists, and he suddenly grabs your hair and forces you to look up at him. Then, he plants a kiss on your lips and smiles.

“I'll leave my shirt for you, Princess. Since you did so fucking well.”

Chapter 2

End notes:

I was watching a true crime documentary on Netflix, and that was the inspiration for this lmao.

Tag list (open)

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut

122 notes · View notes

alpimerealmsystem · 8 months

Text

A Non-Humanity In Childhood Rant

I promised I'd post something related to non-humanity today. This sorta is that, so enjoy and yeah!

i really didn't have any motivation to write about anything in my list- so here's something coming from myself and myself alone. I started my mission to represent the non-human communities properly but never really asked myself what should be represented more so I'm going to be talking about what my own thoughts on that are. (Basically replying to my own question and telling about the stuff I think should be represented more-)

Anyways, I'd love to see people talk about how general experiences in your childhood could be extremely related to your identities as an alterhuman now. I'm a spiritual therian and psychological voidkin so I'll be talking about both of those identities and how I think they were really represented in my own life even just a few years ago.

So finally we're getting to the point. I'll start with my voidkin identity. My voidkin identity for me is heavily related to pure feelings of almost opposites and some of my own beliefs. For me it's a primarily psychological identity but looking into my childhood I feel like I showed some of this identity a lot. For me void shifts can easily lead to panic attacks due to pure overwhelm in the feelings and experiences. When I was younger, specifically in school I was ahead of my class a lot and so when I got to questions that were more difficult I knew the answers perfectly but they were also not in my brain so I'd get huge panic attacks because I didn't understand why I couldn't answer it. I do realize this could be related to mental health, and it probably is but also my voidkin shifts are feelings of everything and nothing, being eternal yet just starting, stuff like that. Those feelings with not knowing something yet knowing it now are really similar to my shifts as a voidkin.

Now, let's talk about my spirtual identity which is a snow leopard. I don't have many examples for this one, it really was mainly dreams and feelings but I can trace this back to a couple things (plenty of this is mental health related as well but I think it should be mentioned) I have DID and my inner world is an entire universe that I can see vividly. I never viewed myself as human there, I was a shapeshifter of sorts and my main form was a snow leopard. I never talked to anyone about this but as long as I can remember this was always what I visualized myself as. Now for actual experiences that I don't believe are mental health related, I always, and I mean always loved animals to the extent where I did act like them. I know that's not therianthropy but as a three year old I'd crawl around and meow like a cat, lick stuff off the floor, etc. I know it sounds gross lol but I had 5 siblings who never did anything like that. Another thing is I hated zoos and aquariums. It always made me miserable to think about them or go to a field trip for one because I hated animals being caged. And I was probably 5, so I didn't know the real things happening. But I always saw it through the perspective of the animal in which they'd been caught at some point and couldn't communicate their needs to others and were trapped. That's how I always viewed it ever since I can remember.

Hope you enjoyed my rant! This is today's opinions lol

#therianthropy #alterhuman #otherkin #therian #therian community #otherkin community #alterhuman community #Alterhuman #Alterhumanity #nonhuman community #non human #nonhuman #nonhumanity #Voidkin

8 notes · View notes

flock-of-cassowaries · 5 months

Text

I’m having a deep think right now about the overlaps and the differences between the appeal of fascism, and that of libertarianism.

On one level, this is because I am writing a Sucession fanfic, and trying to get into Roman’s head.

But on another level only reason I’m even writing Succession fanfiction is that I identify with Roman, and that is in large part because he is a queer person who is philosophically in the thrall of his terrifying conservative father, whose love he desperately craves.

And once upon a time, that used to be me. And I feel deep and abiding shame about that.

(Not the sexy kind of shame. The devastating kind.)

But as I delve into philosophical discussions of fascism and conservatism (and honestly, I have not yet delved the deeply), I’m starting to realize that maybe I have less in common with Roman, and more with Connor (if we leave out his weird S3 white-nationalism dog whistles about the evils of onanism).

I’m basing a lot of this on the first chapter – which is all I have read so far - of “The Reactionary Mind” by Corey Robin; which I came upon via the source list for the linked YouTube video.

youtube

[link to “Endnote 2: White Fascism” by Innuendo Studios, on YouTube.]

Robin (if I’m understanding him correctly) posits that the end goal of conservatism is fundamentally Fishstick fascistic, and that the real animus driving political conservative movements is always the desire of the privileged to remain above those the existing social order oppresses.

I have certainly voted for, and carried water for, conservatives (a fact of which I am, again, deeply ashamed), but I don’t think that was ever the real appeal for me.

I’m not saying I didn’t internalize beliefs that were (I now realize) racist, classist, ableist, and elitist; but I don’t think that was ever the main draw, so much as a side effect of reading the goddamn National Post every fucking day

But for me, I think the main appeal of conservatism was the illusory promise of total self-sufficiency, and of being impossible to further hurt. It was the libertarian lie, bound up in the same nihilistic appeal as the Nine Inch Nails song whose hook is “Nothing can stop me now, cause I don’t care anymore.” (‘Piggy’ is the song.)

In this respect, I think I had more in common with Connor; I was also the discarded child who grew up to think of themself as “a flower that grows on rocks and feeds on the insect that land inside of it.”

Honestly, that soliloquy (from S4E2) could’ve been me at thirteen.

I felt rejected and shunned by the world, but I was also rapidly becoming aware that I could use my looks and intelligence as currency (just a Connor uses his literal currency as currency).

It was only when I was 21, and ended a long relationship, and found myself with no one to turn to, and no idea who I was, that my father swooped in to be my new best friend; and that’s when I became more Roman-like in my fawning attempts to appeal to him.

But I think Roman truly believes that his father is better than him, whereas a much more significant part of me always knew my own dad was a false prophet.

I think the world reaffirmed this belief in Roman, because his father has been so successful, and I think his father, concerned with legacy, has been much more active in fostering this mythology than my own father was.

(My dad would tend to just willfully ignore that l existed for several years at a stretch, if I was acting too cringe [i.e. not stereotypically conservative-lady feminine enough] for his conservative sensibilities; something I am assuming that Shiv could probably relate to.

The scene where Logan tells her he wants her back in the fold was very similar to what my father did with me when I was 21, and I glowed just the same way she did.)

But yeah, I think an internalized belief on Roman’s part that his father truly is better than him, and a desire to “be as good” as his father in order to redeem himself and overcome this inadequacy in his person, really feeds into Roman’s affinity for fascism / conservatism.

And I think that belief structure is with him in that bathroom with Mencken, unacknowledged and subconscious, and even more insidious than his conscious priorities of wanting to win points with Logan, and maaaaaybe wanting to be pushed to his knees and have a fascist phallus (a fascllus? I’m going to hell) thrust upon him.

Anyway, if anyone ever reads this, feel free to suggest some books / essays / videos to my reading list.

So far, in addition to the above-mentioned Cory Robbins tome, I am planning to actually finish “The Ur-Fascist” by Umberto Ecco, and to at least dip into “The Dialectic of Enlightenment” by Horkheimer and Adorno, and “The Authoritarian Personality” by Adorno.

#succession #succession fanfic #succession fanfiction #roman roy #connor roy #roman roy character analysis #connor roy character analysis #succession themes #politics in succession #libertarianism in succession #fascism in succession #libertarianism vs fascism #the reactionary mind #corey robin #overthinking succession #long rambling essay #jeryd mencken #logan roy #Youtube

4 notes · View notes

silverysnake · 1 year

Text

3 Sentence WIP Game

Write 3 sentences of your current WIP and post them (in a new post). Tag people to make them work on their WIPs too.

thank you for tagging me again @ancient-namess i do need to be forced to sit down and write this fic. anyways i just wrote much more than three sentences so i‘m gonna share all of it (english version once again from a translator bc i‘m lazy and under the read more bc this post was getting too long)

So yeah, another sneak peak of Adam visiting Vincent after KdE (working title is „chaotic besties in slubice“ haha)

Im nächsten Laden geht es ähnlich wieder, nur das Vincent Adam dieses mal einfach direkt mit in die Umkleide zieht und den Vorhang hinter den beiden zuzieht.

„Was soll das?“, zischt Adam ihn an, versucht aber nicht zu fliehen. Vincent sieht das ganze als vollen Erfolg, denn wenn Adam wirklich gewollt hätte wäre er schon längst nicht mehr hier drin. Er hält die beiden schwarzen Kleider die er sich vom Ständer gepflückt hat.

„Zieh mal an.“

Adam verschränkt seine Arme vor der Brust und zieht eine Augenbraue fragend hoch. „Warum sollte ich?“

„Komm schon, wird bestimmt lustig.“ An Adams Körpersprache ändert sich nichts, also muss Vincent seine anderen Waffen hinzuziehen. „Ich verspreche dir, dass das hier der letzte Laden ist wenn du es machst.“

Adam reagiert nicht direkt aber Vincent bleibt geduldig und schaut ihn aufmerksam an bis er Adam schließlich ansehen kann das er aufgibt. Er streckt seine Hand nach dem Kleid aus und schaut Vincent schon wieder grimmig an. Nicht dass das was helfen würde, dafür kennt Vincent ihn echt viel zu gut.

„Na gut, gib her.“

Den Freudentanz, den er jetzt gerne aufführen würde, verkneift er sich lieber bevor Adam ihm doch noch wegläuft.

alright tagging: @neverland-in-space @anotherobsessedfangirl and @theoniprince hoping that you actually have current wips you could share something from (no pressure of course, feel free to ignore this) if anyone else sees this and wants to share something please do and tag me in it!

And the english version for you noir <3

In the next shop it's similar, only this time Vincent just pulls Adam straight into the changing room with him and draws the curtain behind them.

"What are you doing?" Adam hisses at him, but doesn't try to escape.

Vincent considers the whole thing a complete success, because if Adam had really wanted to he wouldn't be in here anymore. He holds the two black dresses up that he plucked from the rack.

"Put it on."

Adam crosses his arms in front of his chest and raises an eyebrow questioningly. "Why would I do that?"

"Come on, it'll be fun." Nothing changes in Adam's body language, so Vincent has to call in his other weapons. "I promise you this will be the last shop we go to if you do it."

Adam doesn't respond immediately but Vincent remains patient and looks at him intently until he can finally see Adam giving up. He reaches out for the dress and gives Vincent another grim look. Not that it would help, Vincent knows him far too well for that.

"All right, give it to me."

He refrains from doing the happy dance he would like to do now, before Adam runs away from him.

#tag game #spatort #polizeiruf swiecko

10 notes · View notes

myrfing · 1 year

Note

Poyo o/ your recent posts and tags about elidi reminds me of something I've been wanting to ask about, though idk what do I want to ask about specifically lol.

I know from our previous interactions and some previous tags that you don't quite see eye to eye with most ppl regarding elidi, and I feel similar, though I think I chalk that up to being with 14 for far less time than most people (esp asc/ancients fans), and while I've never hated Elidi, I only started loving him as I currently do after getting to panda.

I guess the first thing I want to ask is, how do you read his sending the WoL to the past? People understandably are upset that he had to do it, but the more upset people see this as redemption through death (which I know is a beloathed trope lately). But I never saw his last actions as redemption--i don't think he ever needed redemption in the first place. He was a sacrificial lamb, saddled with a job that was never going to be fulfilled on his own and he is passing the hope he was entrusted with to the WoL ...

YEAH I HAVE NO…I don’t see it as anything to do with redemption either? Just a like, well this is what remains sort of thing. I don’t necessarily think he means to pass us a torch or reconcile with us either, it’s just an…answer I guess? He spent the entirety of his uhhhh swan song very confused and spiraling incredibly hard and we never got an answer as to what the promise he made was or why he had gone with being zodiark’s heart or what exactly lead to this point and I don’t think it’s weird that he, after we return his memories to him, understood something and wanted the person he opposed to the end to see too.

Elidibus is my favorite ascian AS A PREFACE like there were a good few months in postshb pre 5.2 where I for some reason just was er obsessed with him because I thought he was. funny and cute really, but the fact that I loved him changed nothing about what I thought of the ascians as a whole, so sometimes I sound like I’m very harsh on/hate him. (robot voice) I see no mercy when I see him but I like him. I DOOO think some aspects of his writing are silly and contrived (and this made him more funny and amusing to me) but overall i was and still am very very very happy with his character direction cus I was playing with the idea that he was in reality a pathetic, vulnerable, desperate person under the weight of whatever the ascians were doing, defined by the praise and expectations of people long dead, & wanted to see him break down and lose it when he got cornered which is exactly what happened LMFAOOO. I also thought he did have some sort of…pure and sincere wholehearted bravery/nobility under all that, like a hint of who he was before he got hollowed out, that I wanted to see in the end too and I GOT ITTT with THE SEAT OF SACRIFICE THE BEST TRIAL IN THE GAME. YEAH i love the fact he was a sacrificial lamb and while it absolves him of little at the point of the current day imo he’s a person who in my pov never got to live out his youth and also was the tipping point in which ancient society made a choice that corrupted them irrevocably and I loved thinking of a character who had nothing but that empty guilt and meaningless duty to carry on, that he was in a way made to not have a sense of self. I recall most of the fanbase thought back then he was a sadistic and cunning mastermind, and a lot of people were really unhappy with 5.3 as a result, so the somewhat inconsistent autonomy of his decision to send us back might be them jumping back to that and being like oh so NOW that he was sealed in a crystal he suddenly wants to shake hands. and while I don’t think it’s exactly right to be like well he was a young blameless victim of all of this I think a huge thing wrt the end of shb was just like this particular fight is over and everyone gets to go home and stop worrying about their burdens and obligations and the need to say you are my enemy and who deserves what and all that. like he dead bro.

i dont think “elidibus” can be, should be, needs, wants, or will be redeemed, it’s just not relevant to him anymore. i honestly think he stopped having a future a very long time ago and was waiting for him to combust the entire time so I’m not sitting here waiting for the writers to “do more” with him or anything and honestly I think that’s unnecessary. this is just *gestures vaguely* the ruin for him. like if they spend MORE time on ancient shit post ew I probably would be annoyed

#sometimes when ppl cant accept a character death they call it bad writing no matter hwat i feel

3 notes · View notes

junko-and-riri-domain · 3 years

Text

warm embraces & sudden kisses | ot7

↬ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader ↬ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: fluff | requested | drabbles/headcannons ↬ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none ↬ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: anon ↬ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ: “ENHA REACTION TO YOU KISSING THEM OUT OF NO WHERE OR JOW THE CUDDLE WITH YOU PLS AND THANK YOU 🙏” ↬ ᴀ/ɴ:

since this is the 100th post on this blog I decided to do an ot7 one

simultaneously, this was a request so it worked out !!

anon said or but I decided to try & write both in here :$ so there’s kinda 2 mini scenarios for each member

also i wrote this on my phone in my notes while i was out today which is why everything’s lowercase :)

anon if you’d like me to rewrite this less as scenarios and more as bullet points just lmk!

Lee Heeseung

[a light’s on in the kitchen]

you wake up with the feeling of warmth no longer around you. looking around, you see that heeseung’s no longer in bed with you. your hand makes it way to your phone on your nightstand, 3:07 am greets your eyes and you hear faint sounds from outside the room. you get up with a yawn, the haze of sleepiness still on you as you make your way around the apartment the two of you share, a light’s on in the kitchen. he’s making ramen, you think to yourself. he stands tall by the stove, your footsteps are quiet as you hear him singing a song. when you get to him, your arms arm around his waist as he turns around to greet you, you jump up to give him a quick kiss, intending to meet his lips but because of how tall he is, your lips meet his cheek. he smiles, pulls you in closer to him, tilting up your chin but teases you by pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

[finally home]

you’re nestled up on the couch while a movie plays on the tv. today wasn’t a good day, to say the least. you woke up late which didn’t give you a chance to eat breakfast with heeseung, when you ordered lunch the fries were burnt and the food undercooked, and when you got home heeseung texted you to let you know that practice was running a little late which meant he wouldn’t get to have dinner with you. your eyes stayed settled on the tv until the sound of the apartment door greets your ears, bringing you out of that movie marathon haze you were trapped in. heeseung smiles as he sees you, makes his way to you, as he hands you a takeout bag.

“i bought some food on my way home, i’ll change and then we can eat, yeah?” he notices that you’re sad but doesn’t press you on about it. you nod, taking the bag from him. when he comes back, the two of you eat while a new movie is running. when you’ve finished all the food, his arm wraps around your shoulders and his head rests on top of yours.

“you ok?” he asks. his embrace is comforting and safe, similar to what it feels like when a blanket is draped over you just before you fall asleep.

“i am now that you’re finally home.”

rest of the boys under the cut !!

Park Jongseong / Jay

[flustered and red]

jay’s making dinner in the kitchen while you’re setting the table. you hear him chattering, more to himself than anything as he tries to make dinner the best that it can be. with how busy his schedule was and how much you’ve been swamped with your own work, the two of you haven’t had much time for each other. so, the you both having a free day today was something you were definitely going to take full advantage of. after setting the table, you head into the kitchen to see him slicing up lettuce for a last minute salad. you let out a smile as you see him make a honey based dressing and decided to surprise him by hugging him from behind. usually, he does it to you. despite his confident appearance and composure, you can already tell that he’s getting all flustered and red.

“Yah, who said you can sneak up on me like that!” he says, but makes no effort to pull away. You move so that you’re in front of him,

“If that’s how you react when I hug, how will you react when I do this?” Going on your tiptoes, your arms make their way around his neck as you feel the softness of his lips on yours. Guess honey was good as moisturizer…

[i built us a house]

jay was sitting in his gaming chair, his gaming set up in its own room while you were in the living room doing your own thing. while you were typing away on your laptop you hear your name being called, causing you to look up.

“i wanna show you something,” he said.

“i’m busy, hon,” you reply.

“real quick, i promise.” you sigh, knowing damn well jay wasn’t going to leave you alone until you went with him. so, following him into his game room he sat on his chair.

“why am i here?” you asked. he patted his lap, motioning for you to sit on him. as you did, one of his hands moves your hair to the other side while an arm stays settled on you. you can feel his breath on your neck, the butterflies in your stomach now doing somersaults.

“i built us a house.” your eyes look at the screen to see it on his minecraft server as his character walks around. you smile, turn your head so you’re looking at him,

“this is our house?”

“one day i’ll make it happen in real life.” despite the large promise, deep down you knew jay was going to find some way to make it a reality.

Sim Jaeyun / Jake

[just a little more]

you were on the living room couch, layla’s head on your lap while you pet her. as you do, you’re typing on your phone with your free hand. jake makes his presence known by sitting next to you, his head popping into your line of sight. you set your phone aside, smiling as you pat his hair. he frowns,

“you’ve been giving layla your attention all day, what about me?”

“layla’s cuter than you,” you reply with a teasing smile. he frowns, sighing slightly as he looks at the sight of all your attention on layla. jake heads to your room, glad that you loved layla as much as he did but wished you loved him just a little more. you head to the room, seeing jake seated by the edge of the bed, you settled yourself so that you were sitting on his lap, your legs around his waist.

“i want your attention too.”

“someone’s jealous.”

“naur, i’m not jealous,” he says, looking away. you lean forwards, pressing a kiss to his lips that lingers on for a few seconds longer than it should.

“yaur, ya are,” you tease. he smiles, kisses you again as his grip on you tighten slightly,

“it got you here, didn’t it?”

[a pair of fuzzy socks]

you’re half asleep when you feel warmth to your feet and suddenly a pair of fuzzy socks have been placed over them. you say nothing, wanting to go back to sleep more than anything. a few seconds later, you feel a dip on the bed, two actually, and you’re aware of both jake and layla around you. jake lifts up your head gently. you hear him whisper,

“layla, don’t wake up your mother,” and the feeling brings tingles to your heart, fireworks spreading throughout your body. he snuggles closer to you, intertwining his legs with yours as he traces random patterns on your back just before falling asleep.

Park Sunghoon

[cold]

for as long as he could remember, park sunghoon has lived life cold. on the ice he was cold. towards people he acted cold. you entering his life was like the sun rising after a freezing winter night. you were the heat that rid himself of the icicles stuck to his cold exterior. you melted the snowflakes of winter and turned them into roses of spring. you were the warmth he never knew he was missing. he was in your apartment, washing the dishes after you made lunch. you headed to him placing your hand on his arm. he looked over to you, smiling as you hugged his side. you leaned up as you kissed him, he couldn’t hold back his small laugh. as he felt your lips on his, heat rose to his cheeks. but despite the shyness in him about to take over, he fights it, leaning into you and kissing you once more.

[cold hands]

sunghoon has always had cold hands. and whenever he cuddled with you, he made sure that you knew it. the two of you were joking, running around the apartment when you and sunghoon both ended up on the bed. a glint appeared in his eyes, a plan forming in his head. the tips of his fingers met your stomach as you started bursting out in laugher.

“HOON WHY DO YOU HAVE COLD HANDS,” you yelled as you tried to fight him off. he smiled, vampire teeth showing in all their glory as he settled next to you in bed. his hand rested on your stomach as he brought you to him, his cold feet pressing to yours.

“you’re my personal heater,” he said, pulling you closer to him.

Kim Sunoo

[a little too close]

sunoo has always been clingy around you. some days, he’ll grab your hand out of nowhere and start fiddling with your fingers. at the most random times, he’ll play with your hair and think about how to style it. being in sunoo’s embrace is something that you’ve always welcomed. you were sort of the opposite, accepting and welcoming his touch but never really initiating it. until, today that is. you noticed someone talking to sunoo getting a little too close to him. you didn’t think much of it knowing how friendly sunoo was towards people and how others naturally gravitated to him. but, you couldn’t help yourself when you made your way to them and held onto sunoo’s hand, practically staring down the other person. sunoo smiled, intertwining your hands together while bringing you into the conversation. unsurprisingly, the outsider moved closer and without even thinking, you kissed sunoo’s cheek. his eyes slightly got wide as he looked at you, but it was an action he was glad for. in return, he kissed your cheek with a smile and couldn’t stop talking about it for the rest of the day.

[a tough day]

you were having somewhat of a tough day, having cramps, on and off headaches, and an annoying ringing in your ears that you just couldn’t get rid of. sunoo came home to find you layed on the couch, his heart breaking at the sight. he got some things and brought it to the living room,

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“spa day!” he replied excitedly. he rubbed lotion on your hands, placed cucumbers on top of your eyes, and combed out your hair. the night came to an end with you and sunoo laying on the couch together, him patting in the face mask then rubbing soothing circles on your stomach. with sunoo came a bubble of warmth you never wanted to leave.

Yang Jungwon

[make me]

jungwon’s in a playful mood today and with that playful mood comes teasing you. you’re in the living room where he decided to grab your sketchbook and hold it up above your head.

“won, give it back!” you exclaimed in annoyance, glaring at him. he has the audacity to look amused and he tells you,

“make me.” he’s always found joy in teasing you for your height and right now was no different. a plan forms in your head as you take some steps backwards. as you practically run to him, his eyes widen with fear as he’s forced to let go of your sketchbook to catch you and you end up latched onto him like a koala. you kiss him, in those few seconds the entire world stops and it’s as if no one but him exists. the kiss lingers on a second or two longer than you intended as jungwon’s grip on you tightens so that you don’t fall. on his face you see him smiling and those dimples that you’ve always loved appear. jungwon was never good at hiding his emotions, his love for you no different. you close your eyes as he leans down, you expect a kiss returned but instead, he kisses the top of your head. lightly flicking your forehead gently,

“that’s what you get for being short,” he says.

[i'm here]

with all his responsibilities and the things jungwon needs to take care of at such a young age, coming home to you is the one constant in his life. to him, the second he’s able to wrap his arms around you, revel in the scent of your shampoo, and gets to hold you, everything is just complete. at 1:06 am, he came home. it was late, he was exhausted and all he wanted to do was sleep. he headed into the room you two shared, only to see you still awake.

“you’re up?” he asked.

“no, i’m asleep,” you reply sarcastically. he sighs, setting into bed next to you, “someone’s tired,” you said.

“i want cuddles,” he mutters unable to hide his need for your affection. you shift and his head lays on your shoulder. you run your hand through his hair while you kiss the top of his head,

“i’m here.”

Nishimura Riki / Ni-ki

[bungeo to his ppang]

more than anything, ni-ki liked to be by your side. whether it was while he was watching something on his phone, showing you a new dance routine, or asking you to dye his hair, as long as you were just with him, he was happy. sleeping is something that ni-ki has always enjoyed, how could he not when it grants him a few moments of peace before a busy day? the two of you are in the car, he rests his head on your shoulders. unlike normal, he doesn’t fall asleep this time. he pretends to, he closes his eyes, stays still while enjoying your warmth, but he’s not actually asleep. you didn’t seem to notice, he feels you messing with his hair a bit, something he’s never minded as long as it was with you. he hears you talking about how cute he is, practically fangirling over him. he feels you kiss the top of his head lightly,

“sleep well, ni-kitty,” he hears you whisper. he doesn’t move, doesn’t show any sign that he’s affected by your sudden actions of love. but deep down, he feels a happiness around you that’s greater than how he feels when he’s on stage. when he performs he enjoys the thousands of eyes that watch him but all he thinks about are how your eyes look at him with adoration and pride. it was in this moment that he knew, you were the bungeo to his ppang.

[take a break]

after dinner, you’re sitting on the floor of the table in front of the tv, trying to get some work done. suddenly, you feel a weight on your lap. you look down to see ni-ki’s head on your lap, his eyes closed but he’s clearly still awake.

“yah, get off,” you said, slightly lifting up your leg.

“no.” you roll your eyes, deciding not to pay attention to him as you go back to sleep our work. it seems that ni-ki had other plans as he took your one of your hand and starting fiddling with it.

“ni-ki, i’m busy.”

“take a break,” he said. you look down at ni-ki… how could you refuse? you put away your things, shifting so that your full attention was now on him. he smiled up at you, fiddling with the edge of your clothes while saying the most random things that made you laugh.

↬ ᴀ/ɴ pt. 2:

if anyone’s read up to this point pls lmk how it was, i’m not really good with ot7 scenarios typa things 😭

❦ written by riri @enhykkul | blog masterlist

requests are currently open! rules can be found here | anon emojis

1K notes · View notes

huge-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

MIRACULOUS FIC RECOMENDATIONS!! (Part 2)

You can find part 1 here.

The first one was really popular! So I decided to make a second part.

The rules are the same:

All of the fics will be rated Teen and up audiences or lower. Also if I don’t put the author’s tumblr is because they didn’t put it in the fic or/and I couldn’t find it.

The only thing that changes is that I would be putting the pairing in the description of the fic.

Without further ado...

Written in the Stars by Boogum (@botherkupo here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Marichat and Adrienette.

He was the god of destruction. She was a princess whose kingdom had been prophesied to fall. To save her people, she became his wife. To save him, she would have to do the impossible. The castle has secrets, the gods are watching, and time is running out.

Chapters: 37/37

TW for mild violence.

Arrange marriage, God AU. While I'm making this list, I still haven't finished the fic, but I had to recommend it because is THAT good. The way I gasped out loud while reading some of the plot twists. The worldbuilding is so good, and even if you aren't into AUs that deviate a lot from cannon like me, I 100% reccomend it.

Need a Lift? again by Boogum.

Pairing: DJWifi

Getting stranded on a foreign planet sucked. Luckily for Nino, his rival was willing to give him a lift home. Unluckily for Nino, she was beautiful and funny and he might just be in love with her.

Chapters: 1/1

Space Bounty Hunter AU! Really sweet and funny. If you are into flustered!Nino then this fic is for you.

hey, you by peachcitt (@peachcitt here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

“Have you ever had a dream about someone that changes the way you think of them?”

or Adrien has a dream about Marinette.

Chapters: 1/1

Okay so, peachcitt is one of my favorite ml writers. Everything that they write is sooo good y'all, and i'm already a sucker for adrienette, so I cannot recommend this fic (or any of theirs) enough.

double dare again by peachcitt (I told ya!)

Pairing: Ladrien (with lots of sided ladynoir)

“Don’t ever do that again,” Marinette says, maybe a little too emphatically, and Adrien looks at her, his expression quiet. His cheeks, Marinette notices, are a little red.

“But I wanted to save you,” he says.

or Ladybug and Adrien can't seem to stop running into each other. (whether that is on accident or on purpose is nobody's business but their own, of course).

Chapters: 30/30

This was a ladrien june fic! Every chapter corresponds to the day's prompts but it also continues a story. If that doesn't make you want to read it then I don't know what it will. I fear fanfic writers, they're insane.

(not) so much by therentyoupay (@therentyoupayfanfiction here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Marichat and adrienette

(The claws are sharp, but the host of Destruction—for all of his loudmouth chaos and lack of reserve—is paradoxically careful.)

Chapters: 1/1

In which Chat Noir pays a visit not long after Marinette has made a pretty difficult decision, and they accidentally make a routine.

Prompt: Marinette gives Chat a hickey. Adrien has a suspiciously similar looking hickey the next day at school...

Gotta be honest with y'all, I did not expect this fic to be as good as it is. The adrienette has everything a stablished!Marichat should have. Marinette conflicted with her feelings? Check. Adrien being a hot mess bc That's My Girlfriend But She Doesn't Know That? Check. Them being absolute idiots? Check. It's good!

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me The News (Your Lips Is The Only Cure I Could Use) by BreG21.

Pairing: Adrienette

Rainwater sloshed up from the pools they had made on the sidewalk and coated his jean pants with every step he took. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He sniffed away some of the water that dribbled down his matted head. "Yeah?"

He paused as if to consider his words while Adrien stared down at him, so lost. "You weren't wrong when you thought you knew. A part of you wanted it to be her, but it was too perfect, you let the illusion fool you because how would you get that lucky. But trust me, Adrien. You weren't wrong."

He wasn't wrong? What was he not wrong about?

You weren't wrong. You want it to be her.

And it finally clicked as a small gasp wisped past his lips. He wasn't wrong.

In which, Plagg falls ill, and with Fu gone and Ladybug being the guardian now, has to go find her civilian self-even with the knowledge that she might not like that-is shocked to realize that even with having the kwami that was supposed to embodied the very being of bad luck, Adrien could conclude the very opposite of what he had thought for so long.

He was so very lucky.

Chapters: 1/1

I screamed so hard while reading this fic. It's just one of those who gets the characters right. Do you like a good reveal? Go read this now.

Operation Mega Sleepover by InTheWild (@smellerbeee here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

When Alya and Nino drop out of their long awaited mega-sleepover at the last minute, it leaves Marinette and Adrien alone together for the night. An Adrinette one-shot with lots of fluff and sleepover shenanigans.

Chapters: 1/1

I just,,, I love adrienette fluff so much,,, I love them,,,

You, Me & A Little Bit Of The Future by joonapeach.

Pairing: this is a fortunate case of all lovesquare shenanigans™

Marinette expects some disaster on her first outing alone with Adrien.

She just doesn't expect that disaster to be her future self passing off a baby for her to take care of with Adrien.

(Alternatively... two idiots obliviously in love cooing over their daughter while acting like they have no idea whose kid this is.)

Chapters: 1/1

I think the description says anything that it needs to be said. It's really sweet and funny and I love how they just change their minds so quickly and get emo for literally nothing. Peak shakesperean dumbasery.

The entire Marry That Girl series by Miraculous_Max (Maximilian_Alexander).

Pairing: Adrienette

Let’s say Marinette has a special sketchbook. This sketchbook is filled with drawings of their future house, of Adrien as an adult in multiple occupational settings, of Marinette and Adrien’s wedding, and most importantly, their future children.

Let's say Adrien found this sketchbook.

Works: 8 (All are 1/1 chapters)

Just realized how this list exposes me as number 1 adrienette sucker... oh well. I love how Adrien doesn't feel weirded out by the intensity of Marinette's crush. He likes it! He's as weird and romantic as her! That's one of the reasons I love the lovesquare so much and it makes me happy to see that everyone is in the same boat with me.

Strenght by 11JJ11.

Pairing: Adrienette

Marinette knew she was much stronger than she looked thanks to being a hero. So when her class had an arm wrestling contest she knew that she could beat all of them with ease, but she wasn't expecting anyone else to come close.

Chapters: 1/1

Good ol' accidental reveal feat. the entire class shenanigans. I, once again, screamed for an adrienette fic. Who could've thought.

Super Fan by Taliax.

Pairing: Ladrien

It was a good thing Alya was holding the phone and not her, because it would have slipped from her fingers and shattered. How had she not noticed? She had been there, and somehow she’d missed her crush looking at her like she was an angel sent from heaven.

Forget the perfume ad. This picture was going to be her new desktop.

(In which Marinette realizes that she and Adrien might both be obsessive fans.)

Chapters: 1/1

Canon divergent from after Gorizilla. They're so dumb. That's my opinion on this fic.

How to Kiss Your Crush in Five Minutes or Less also by Taliax.

Pairing: Ladrien

He just needed to know if Ladybug needed Chat Noir. He didn't expect to learn just how much she wanted Adrien.

This would be the best five minutes of his life, if he didn't expect her to forget it.

Chapters: 1/1

CW for making out.

Set during Desperada. I promise there's a happy ending. Also Luka is there for some reason, felt really bad for him.

Laying Down the Rules: The Gabriel Agreste Clauses by LadyKae

Gen

Adrien leaves the manor on a dark and stormy night and seeks sanctuary at the only place he feels safe: The Home of the Dupain-Cheng Family. When Sabine learns why her dear boy is fleeing to her home in the middle of the night, she makes a personal visit to one Gabriel Agreste.

There's more rules in play, but not for Adrien and Marinette.

Chapters: 1/1

This is just Sabine going to beat the fuck out of Gabriel and it's really satifying ngl

4am. by hannieks

Pairing: post-reveal lovesquare

In which Adrien has the cat tendency to wake up their owners at stupid o'clock, and Marinette just wants to sleep. Cuteness ensues.

Chapters: 1/1

Really short but really sweet. If you like Adrien acting like a cat then you would like this.

Can I Date You(r Character)? by midnightstarlightwrites (@midnightstarlightwrites here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

Adrien turned to her, something unreadable in his gaze. “Are you ok with this?” he asked.

And what a loaded question that was. Was she ok with it? Was she ok with the one guy she couldn’t seem to get over in real life kissing her in a game of Dungeons and Dragons? When she put it like that, it seemed a bit silly to get so worked up.

It was just a game...right?

She was ok with it, right?

“Sure,” she lied. “I’m ok with it.”

When Adrien's character falls in love with Marinette's, they decided to date in-game. What could go wrong?

Chapters: 7/?

THIS ONE IS SO CUTE. You want to scream??? Read this.

two idiots and a hamster by Boogum (again) and carpisuns (@carpisuns here on tumblr)

Pairing: Adrienette

How do you hide your superhero identity from your roommate? (spoiler alert: badly)

Chapters: 5/?

Once @anna-scribbles described this fic as "is literally the closest i’ve ever seen a fic come to matching the energy of canon", and I couldn't have described it better.

And that's all for now! Next time I will probably make an only DJWifi list since I've been treating them so dirty lol.

513 notes · View notes

sortasirius · 3 years

Text

“Despair” and Dean and Cas

Well well well, winning is my favorite thing.

As usual, this is going to be as long as hell. And fair warning, it’s extremely emotional.

So here it is, the thing that we have been barrelling towards for years, literally years.

Just want to point out this. Also, I will NEVER allow someone to speak negatively about this writing group, EVER.

Team Free Dads starting off the episode is so sweet, so scary. Cas’ calming, Dean’s fear, Sam’s desperation, really just hammering home how much they love Jack, how his pain is pain for them, how losing him is unbearable.

“I can’t stop this. I’m coming apart. I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t let me hurt you.”

Oof. If you’ve ever question whether Jack is a Winchester, this line should shut that shit down for you.

When I tell you I was PISSED when Billie sent Jack to the Empty to EXPLODE????? PAIN.

“Yeah the Empty can’t come to earth, not without being summoned.”

Hello Bobo, clue number 1.

The fact that they only had Jack in limbo for like five seconds was great for my heart health, thank u very much Bobo.

Also Dean wielding Death’s scythe?????? KING?????

Man, Sam and Dean’s growth. The way that they’re able to, idk, actually speak on how they feel without death looming or fear or pain. It’s just a conversation, just an honest conversation of Dean admitting his mistakes, admitting how he felt. Admitting that he fucked up, and Sam forgiving him for it.

CHARLIE AND HER GF CHARLIE AND HER GF CHARLIE AND HER GF

Also...hunters and their “dates.” Two hunters who are happily together, who are happily fighting monsters. Hm. Sounds like a Saileen/Destiel parallel to me boys.

You ever wish Cas would look and the mirror and take the great advice he gives others? Because I do. He’s always tried to be “useful” for Sam and Dean, for Jack, always tried to make sure that he’s useful enough that they keep him around. But what he doesn’t understand, what he’s never understood, is that they need him because of who he is, not because of what he contributes.

Remind y’all of anything?

And here we have Clue Number 2

And then, Sam’s realization. Eileen.

Did I begin full tilt screaming no in my apartment when he said her name? Who’s to say?

How can a lock screen cause me this much pain????

Okay but: Charlie loses Stevie, Sam loses Eileen. Clue Number 3.

I feel like I don’t talk enough about how much Sam loves Eileen. About how obvious it is that they are endgame, about how happy he is when he talks about her. This just feels like a blow to the stomach, but we’ve barely even started.

Sam immediately shifting into protective leader mode? He is the love of my life.

Dean’s simple nod, like it’s a given? Enough to do me in right there.

This is another episode where it’s just so clear that Sam is the leader of the North American hunters. Everyone knows him, everyone is willing to follow him. He’s knowledgeable and kind and fair and just and an incredibly capable fighter. Once again, I don’t believe his work on earth is done.

Can we also please talk about how FRIGHTENING IT WAS for Jack to kill that plant??? I don’t really have much of a comment on it because I was literally just like ?????

With Billie saying that it’s Chuck, the way that people were dusted, very similar to Becky and Amara, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised, especially with Donna getting taken off the board. It’s like I said last week, I don’t buy that he’s taken himself off the board, he’s too invested in the unraveling of this story to take a step back. He’s gotta break them before he can defeat them, that’s the only way.

And here we go, into one of the most painful and surreal things I will ever write about.

Dean’s speech. His guilt, his regret. The shame of not only trapping himself, but the pain, the horror of trapping Cas.

“I just lead us into another trap. All because I, I couldn’t hurt Chuck. Because I was angry and because I just needed something to kill, and because that’s all I know how to do.”

“Dean-”

“It was Chuck all along. We never should have left Sam and Jack, we should be there with them now. Everybody’s gonna die, Cas. Everybody. I can’t stop it.”

His narrative arc. Tied up in a bow.

“She’s gonna get through that door.”

“I know.”

“And she’s gonna kill you and then she’s gonna kill me. I’m sorry.”

Cas smiles.

Cas knows. He knows what’ll get them out of this, and he knows that he would do anything in this Universe for Dean Winchester. The human man he fell for.

“When Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.”

“You what?”

“The price was my life. When I experienced a moment of true happiness, the Empty would be summoned and it would take me forever.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I’ve wondered what it could be, what my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer, because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have.

“But I think I know, I think I know now...happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.”

“What are you talking about, man?”

The most selfless thing Cas does in this, and he does a lot of selfless things, is to tell Dean Winchester how impossibly good he is. To tell him that he is worthy, to tell him that he is adored.

“I know, I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You’re destructive and you’re angry and you’re broken and you’re daddy’s blunt instrument. And you think that hate and anger, that’s what drives you, that’s who you are. It’s not. And everyone who knows you sees it, and everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raise your little brother for love, you fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are.

“You’re the most caring man on earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you outta Hell...knowing you has changed me.

“Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you, I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack, I cared about the whole world because of you.

“You changed me, Dean.”

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Dean’s greatest fear. His fear of those loving him leaving him. The terror of being alone.

“Because it is.

The head shake. Don’t love me. Don’t love me if it means you’ll leave me, don’t love me, everyone I love leaves me. Don’t leave me. Don’t love me. Don’t leave me.

“Don’t do this, Cas.”

Just like I always thought. One last look at Dean before the Empty takes him.

“Cas-”

“Goodbye Dean.”

And Dean is left, broken on the floor, unable to answer Sam’s calls, unable to do anything. It doesn’t matter to him that Chuck has wiped everyone out, it doesn’t matter to him that Sam and Jack might need him. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because the thing that mattered still hangs on his lips, still waiting to be said, and now he won’t get another chance to say it.

The fact that I am writing this, even with all my spec, with all my analysis of the writers’ room, of their text, of the way Dabb and co had approached this story, nothing could have ever prepared me for this. Nothing could have prepared me for a three and a half minute, uninterrupted scene where Cas confesses not only that he loves Dean, but that he has always loved him.

I talk a lot about how these writers don’t get the credit they deserve. Unfortunately, from most of this fandom, they never will. We will likely never know the fights with the network they had, the steps backward they had to take, the way they had to beg and fight and claw to get this on the screen. But they did it. They did it for these characters, they did it for this dinosaur of a show, and yeah, they did it for us.

It was not easy, I can promise you, to get this greenlit. They had to fight for this, they likely had to call in favors and make threats and quite literally put their careers on the line (you may scoff at that, but WB is a BIG company, especially in the TV/movie world) for this story. This story of Dean and Cas, the man dragged out of Hell and the angel who fell for him.

I have tons more to say, and will likely have several more posts about this, but I want to leave all my babes who are worried that that was the end for Dean and Cas with some takeaways.

Sam is missing Eileen. Dean is missing Cas. That is no longer a fun subtextual parallel, that is it for them. Their respective endgames are missing, and they will not know their peace until they get them back. Chuck will not win. That’s not the story being told, and right now? He’s winning. He’s broken them, left them with nothing, left them with an empty world and a hole in each of their hearts where their person (or angel) used to be.

Our show is going to end with “contentment.” “Contentment” isn’t from Sam and Dean being filled with grief and hitting the open road. It isn’t Sam getting Eileen back and leaving Dean with no one. “Contentment” is Sam and Eileen, Dean and Cas. Together.

#destiel #spn #supernatural #my meta #destiel meta #spoilers #spn 15x18 #i cannot believe this #i cant believe i wrote this #this is real #theyre really canon

3K notes · View notes

goldentsum · 3 years

Text

━ thirst posts - idol! reader

CHARACTERS: bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto, kirishima eijirou, shinsou hitoshi, kaminari denki

GENRE: suggestive themes, crack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: finally, another bnha post-- my submissive and overstim fic on my bnha masterlist was lonely so i whipped up another bb HAHAHAHA UNEDITEDDDD

━ bakugou ♡

an angry boy that hides his feelings inside and in social media--.. he has multiple accounts that caters to different moods that he has, there’s the daddydom acct then theres the sweetbabyboi acct-- HE WOULD RATHER DIE THAN SOMEONE FINDING OUT HE HAS THE LATTER ACCOUNT

kacchan loves you because of the fact that you two were different but also similar, with him being angry and intimidating on the surface but a mess of feelings inside and with you being sweet and soft on the surface but a vixen inside

DUALITY-! TODOROKI DOESN’T EVEN COMPARE TO YOU WHEN IT COMES TO DUALITY-! bakugou would fight anyone for you if someone calls bullshit on you. he would 100% NO HESITATION would deck someone--

he def has thousands of pictures of you in his phone and laptop, the ratio of pics of him and other things to you is outstanding,, 1:8 def

HE ALSO SCREAMED ONE TIME WHEN YOU POSTED A VIDEO WITH YOU SHOWING YOUR DUALITY--! everyone in the dorm thought he was angry, in actuality he was hyperventilating because you’re so hot-- also this happens so frequently, class A doesn’t even address it

bakugou: [SCREAMING IN HIS ROOM]

class a: lol, yall hear something--

[(y/n)ssweetboi]: hOW CAN SOMEONE BE SO SOFT THEN TURN SO SINFULLY PRETTY?? I’M SO ANGRY AND SO ATTACKED RN-!! mOMMY NEEDS TO CALM THE TF DOWN AND SHOULD JUST WRAP THE HOLY THIGHS AROUND MY FACE-!

━ todoroki ♡

he’s basically the epitome of head empty just (y/n) 24/7 pls--

people would look at him and think, “huh, i wonder what goes inside that pretty head of his?” then todoroki’s brain just goes: “rAIL (Y/N) RAIL (Y/N) RAIL (Y/N) RAIL (Y/N) RAIL (Y/N) “

if someone has a mind-reading quirk, press f for them because of how sinful his thoughts are--

HE DOESN’T EVEN CARE IF ANYONE KNOWS HE’S THINKING OF LEWD THINGS! HE’S SO BRAVE PLS-! SO BRAVELY STUPID AND THIRSTY

in his room, he has a wall and altar that is dedicated for you. all of your merch, the past concert tickets and bands, polaroid pics he got in your albums, and polaroid pics of when he bought the royalty ticket are all on that wall-- yall wondering how he has all that money to afford that? three words. endeavor’s credit card.

this boy goes all out when you have a concert-! HE STAYS UP ALL NIGHT TO WAIT IN YOUR WEBSITE WAITING FOR THE SECOND THE PRE-SELLING OF TICKETS. he refreshes the site every 1 second pls--

shouto: [refreshing the site for the nth time at 3 AM] [clearly sleepy]

site: PRE-SELLING

shouto: [SHOOKEDT] [awake af] i AM SPEED-! CLICK YOU FU-

he’s also so cocky and boast-y on his account pls-! he’s so different in his main and irl

[officially_(y/n)sbabydaddy]: i GOT THE ROYALTY TICKET-! AGAIN! you peasants can’t relate, huh. press f for all of you. i’m going to see my baby mama again <3 a little fact for yall, (y/n) smells really good <3 especially when she’s sweating 🥴 bet she tastes amazing as she smells <3

━ kirishima ♡

baby kiri is still a little shy about mentioning that he likes you and kpop but that doesn’t mean if someone ask him about kpop, he’ll act like he hates it or he doesn’t know.

A CLOSET HARD STAN THOUGH

hard stan kiri goes HARD FR like his quirk and his dicc AND HE CAN’T BE STOPPED IF HE STARTS

he has you being pretty as usual as his lockscreen and got all giddy and happy when his grandmother ask if you were his girlfriend,, bet your ass that kiri said that you are-!

inside his phone though, is a completely different matter-.. this boy has all sort of thirst pics of you! and he gets a little shy when he stares at your pictures for a little too long and makes eye contact with you in the pic LIKE HE WASN’T JUST THINKING ABOUT SOMETHING LEWD-!

he and kaminari binge watches you and your group’s web series and THEY ALWAYS WATCH YOUR COMEBACK TOGETHER AND SCREAM TOGETHER

kaminari thinks kiri is a soft stan and tries to get him to join the dark side aka the hard stan side of twitter-- what kaminari doesn’t know is that kiri is on there already and also creates contents here and there 👀

kaminari: bruhh-! look at this edit of (y/n) as a demon-!

kirishima: [looking at the video he edited all night] wow--

[rockhardfor(y/n)]: if you see something in my pants- PLEASE ITS NOT A WEAPON AND JUST MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS! i don’t wanna go through that again as i try to explain that a video of a queen throwing it back is the cause of that-- </3

━ shinsou ♡

HIM AND TODOROKI ARE THE SAME WITH HOW THEIR THOUGHTS GET 0-100 REAL QUICK-! LEWD THOUGHTS ARE LIVING RENT FREE IN THEIR BRAIN PLS--

also that tired look on shinsou’s face is not showing what really goes on his head bUT unlike todoroki, he gets conscious of his thoughts when he gets to the real nasty parts when he’s daydreaming as he remembers there’s people with quirks around him

shinsou: [thinks about you getting your guts rearranged by him] hehe~ <3

also shinsou internally: [realizes that someone might know what he’s thinking about] 002223444212487537924 lah la la la laaa! i’m thinking of rabbits-... yeah rabbits lol fluffy rabbits that hops across the garden- nothing dirty here. just pure innocent thoughts

shinsou also creates and reads fanfiction-- as soon as that bell rings, he would zoom zoom out of that classroom and into his room to read smuts

then he gets inspired and he stays up all night to write THE DIRTIEST SMUT ANYONE HAS EVER READ-!! the piece gets A LOT of hearts and comments and he’s PROUD PROUD

now he also has commissions for fanfiction and shinsou is getting money because of how perverted his thoughts are-! he’s also so talented in writing! HE LEGIT GOES INTO DETAILS SO PEOPLE ARE LIKE: “WOAH-!! HOLY WATERRR”

it’s a win-win for shinsou, he can turn his fantasies into stories and GETS money for it? bruh, fap material AND GET CASH <3

[(y/n)as_akittycat]: so is anyone not gonna comment on what (y/n) was doing in the background? KITTY WAS ON H E R KNEESS-!! bruh, kitty is flexible- ya’ll know what this means, right? mORE POSITIONS-! <3

━ kaminari ♡

this boy has no filter THEN HAS THE AUDACITY TO GET EMBARRASS BY IT-! LIKE AREN’T YOU THE ONE WHO SAID, “i want to fuck (y/n) so hard that her ancestors could feel it-”

so are you not gonna do it? bruh, talk about empty promises-

HE MAKES SHINSOU SHOOKEDT WITH THINGS HE SAYS AND THAT TIRED BOY MAKES SMUTS-! shinsou def uses kaminari’s lines in his fanfics pls whatta power duo

kaminari: i wanna shove my dick down in (y/n)’s throat and cum so deep, you could see it trailing down her throat--

shinsou: [SHOOKEDT] what the fuck dude?

also shinsou internally: wRITE THAT DOWN! WRITE THAT DOWN-!

ONE TIME, he got too excited when you posted a video of your choreography wearing those tiny shorts and he short-circuited-- he really went: “wIEEE~”

he’s cautious now not too excited, especially when he’s outside and you post out of no where

it’s also a miracle that his twitter account is still running with how erotic and lewd he gets in his tweets-- HE ALSO RETWEETS EDITS OF YOUR MOANS IN HIS FEED-! IN HIS MAIN ACCOUNT! HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A FAN ACCOUNT

he’s either REALLY FUCKING brave or just plain stupid. maybe both idk

[(y/n)k.denki]: have you ever just look at someone and go, “wow, i would really wanna fuck you hard right now” because i do. everytime i see my queen-- LET ME HIT (Y/N)-! I’LL BE GOOD I SWEARRRRRR

2K notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Laundry Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer meet again in the laundry room and decide to have some fun. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, slight exhibitionism?/potential of getting caught, slight degradation) Warnings: sex, language. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings. I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3k

Note: Surprise!! I was going to wait to post this on Saturday but Taylor Swift had me feeling like dropping a surprise, what can I say? 😂 Anyway, I wasn’t going to make another part to Pretty Please, but for one thing, it did way better than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kind comments and tags! And also, @rainsong01 mentioned something that gave me an idea for a laundry room scenario, so you can thank them for this one! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all the love! 🥰

***

Y/N hated laundry day.

There was nothing more boring to her than loading clothes into the washer, waiting, then loading them into the dryer, waiting, and then folding them and putting them away, not to mention the laundry room was kind of dingy and felt like being in a gross, scary basement.

Thankfully though, years of living in the same building had given Y/N a pretty decent schedule of when the laundry room was empty. It wasn't like she disliked talking to people, but laundry made her cranky enough, and the last thing she wanted was human interaction, making small talk with building residents that acted like they cared to know about everyone else's business.

So it was Friday night, 7 pm, which meant that depending on if she had to work, the only other person in the laundry room would be Olivia from down the hall, someone Y/N had only had a few conversations with, either in the laundry room or on the way out the door.

She walked in, silently thanking the laundry gods after hearing complete and utter silence as she made her way to the washer and dryer to the far left of the room. Then she reached into her pocket and realized she forgot her phone. Cursing, she settled on basking in the silence as she loaded her clothes in the washer one by one, at least grateful that no one would be bothering her with pointless small talk.

Until she heard the door open, as if the laundry gods decided they were angry at her. She tried not to outwardly groan, hoping that whoever it was would just say, "Hello," and leave it at that. Or better yet, not say anything at all and let her do her own thing. So she closed the washer and entered the quarters, knowing that it would be a long ten minutes. She could have went back upstairs to her apartment and waited there if she really wanted to, or grabbed her phone at least, but it felt like it would have been pointless, and so she just hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Maybe I'll just go walk around the building aimlessly for 10 minutes.

But the laundry gods had other plans, apparently.

"Y/N?"

She turned around and saw none other than Spencer Reid, clutching a large cloth bag, presumably filled with laundry.

"Spencer? Hi," Y/N greeted, a small blush forming on her cheeks. The two of them hadn't really talked since their... escapade about a month ago. Most of the time Spencer was at work, but whenever he was home there hadn't been anymore thin wall scenarios or overhearing something she shouldn't. They'd seen each other in the hallway a few times, winking as they passed, but that was it. Y/N had to wonder if maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, being absolutely fucked into oblivion by your neighbor so good that you couldn't walk for two days.

Thinking about it made her cheeks burn hotter, so she cleared her throat and only slightly avoided eye contact. "I thought you did your laundry on Sundays?"

Spencer shrugged, walking over to the machine set next to hers. "Normally I would, but I just got back from work and I needed clean clothes. It's... pretty empty in here right now."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I do my laundry on Friday nights whenever I can. Everyone's either out or staying in relaxing. Laundry's already boring enough, right, who needs annoying small talk?"

He laughed, opening the washer and putting in some of his clothes. "Touché."

Y/N wasn't really sure what to say after that, so she sat on top of the washer and crossed her legs, swinging them a little as she waited.

"Look, I know you've already given your stance on annoying small talk, but... What are your plans for the weekend?" Spencer asked, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"Um... Not a lot, really. Other than some grocery shopping and a few other small errands, I was going to have dinner with my mom on Sunday for her birthday. We might have to cancel though because she might have to go into work, but we'll see... What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't have anything planned unless I get called into work either."

"Oh... Well, if you ever feel like having some company, you know where I live," she joked.

Spencer laughed. "I might just have to take you up on that. Things at work have been kind of... stressful."

Despite her better judgement, she smirked. "I seem to recall a similar conversation between the two of us not that long ago, Bud. You're not trying to fuck me again, are you?"

She just couldn't help herself. Admittedly she was a little worried she was too forward, but in the end it paid off, because he turned to look at her, shutting the washer and grabbing quarters from his pocket. "Would it be so wrong of me if I wanted to?"

The low tone of his voice made Y/N clench her legs tighter together, her mind racing with all the things that could happen in the next few days, the next few minutes even... She thought back to the last time he'd fucked her, seeing his face between her legs as he completely unraveled her. She felt herself growing wet at the thought.

"Absolutely not," she finally managed to respond. She hoped he would come over to her in a few long strides, pulling her in and kissing her right there, but instead he simply said, "Hmm," and turned back to his machine, putting in quarters.

He could have been playing games with her again, but she didn't want to take the chance. So she grew bolder and leaned back on her hands, puffing out her chest to the air and tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall and exposing her neck to him. "Well, we have some time to spare, babe. What do you say we make the most of it?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him blush and freeze in his tracks, fumbling with the last few quarters as he inserted them into the machine and started the timer. "R-right now?"

"Duh," she replied, giggling.

"Somebody could come in... O-or hear us." A twinge of worry dripped from every syllable as he spoke, and though Y/N's first instinct was to apologize for suggesting it and letting it go, she thought better of it after remembering what got them into this situation in the first place.

So she scoffed. "Oh, please. You weren't the least bit worried about someone hearing us before. Y'know... When you promised to fuck me so hard I would scream your name and everyone could hear, and then I did? And besides, even if someone walked in right now, they'd probably just leave and come back later. People probably have sex with each other in here all the time."

"I doubt that, this place is filthy. Hardly the right setting for something so... intimate," he replied more clearly, obviously trying to win this argument. Though, something told Y/N he really was a little bothered about how dirty the laundry room was.

She shook her head. "You and I both know that what we did wasn't intimate. It was downright filthy, so if anything it works perfectly for where we are."

"Y/N, I don't know..." He chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled on his feet, refusing to look at her.

"Well, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do, obviously, but... You can trust me. I've been doing my laundry here basically every Friday night since I moved here, and since Olivia is working tonight, she won't be here, and neither will anyone else."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I? Anything could happen."

She sighed, a little tired of arguing but still wanting to win. Her body tingled and practically ached at the sight of him, needing to feel his touch yet again. Maybe it was slightly pathetic, but if there was just the slightest chance that he would fuck her like that again, she had to try her damnedest.

So she had another trick up her sleeve, silently praying to the laundry gods that they would take pity on her and grant her this one thing. "You're right, but don't you think that you coming down here just moments after me was bound to happen? Like after everything we've experienced, we were always meant to have a quickie in the laundry room of our apartment building?"

He genuinely seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Truthfully I think it's more of a coincidence than anything that we showed up here at the same time."

There's your chance, Y/N, don't fuck it up, she thought to herself, hoping that with the seductive tone in her voice and the puppy dog look in her eye, it would be enough to get her what she wanted. "I was joking. Of course it's a coincidence, I just want you to fuck me."

He only stayed silent, fiddling with his hands and his eyes flicking between her and the floor before he caught her eye. In another attempt to entice him, Y/N batted her eyes and slowly spread her legs wide, scooting back a little so she could rest her heels on the top of the washer. "Don't you want to fuck me into the washing machine, baby?"

That was the last straw, the thing that pushed Spencer over the edge. He whispered, "Fuck it," to himself before striding over to her and cradling her face in his hands, bringing her to him and kissing her hard. She initially yelped at how harsh he was, but after a second she melted into him, leaning forward and bringing him closer.

She tried to wrap her legs around his torso, but he grabbed them by the ankles and kept them spread open, pulling away to look into her eyes. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl." The old nickname made her whimper, just like he knew it would, and his gaze burned into hers hotly for a few seconds before he bent down, kissing her inner thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed as he trailed his lips and tongue along every inch of skin, switching to the other leg and giving it the same attention until he was ready for more.

Rather than pulling off her shorts and underwear, Spencer simply pushed the fabrics aside and immediately licked a long, flat strip up her pussy, to which Y/N sharply inhaled and reached out, grabbing his hair. He explored her just as thoroughly as he had the last time, his fervor unmatched and absolutely intoxicating as he pushed himself closer and closer, practically living between her legs. Due to the short time constraint and fear of getting caught, he didn't waste time teasing her, and he seemed determined to finish before the buzzing of the washer signaled clean clothes.

Naturally though, he couldn't not tease her, so just as she was about to finish with his lips wrapped around her clit, he pulled away and left her breathless and frustrated.

"Really? We're doing this again?" she huffed, pouting.

Spencer unbuckled his belt and raised his eyebrow. "All in due time, sweetheart. Come here."

Unsurprisingly, she did what she was told, jumping off the washer and waiting further instructions. It didn't take long for Spencer to move, only a few seconds passing by before he turned her around and pushed her against the washer, to which she instinctively bent her torso over it. She gripped the sides of it tightly as he ran his hands up her shirt and caressed her back, eventually using one hand to grip her waist and the other to lift her leg up, setting it on the washer. She readjusted, reaching her hands forward to grip the top of it as he slid his hand down her leg and toyed with the fabric of her shorts.

"Listen carefully," he said, causing Y/N's heart to pound harder in her chest. "I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yes," she stated simply, loud and clear, though adding a hint of desperation as to hopefully speed the process along. She knew this communication was important, but damn if she didn't just want to be railed into next week already.

"Birth control?"

She swallowed nervously, hoping it wouldn't change his mind. "I'm not on it."

"Noted," is all he said, before deftly moving her shorts and underwear to the side and slamming into her with no warning. She yelped, leaning her head back as he pounded into her, the cold metal of the washing machine digging into her skin. It was the best kind of painful pleasure, only made better when he gripped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her to him, deepening his angle inside of her and hitting that sweet spot every time.

"Spencer, I'm..." She could barely breathe, and she loved it, already feeling herself start to unravel.

"Close already, pretty girl?" he purred in her ear, right before pressing a wet kiss to her neck as he craned her head to the side for better access. "Figures... You've always been so easy to please. Such a good, needy little slut for me, huh?"

Y/N groaned at the new name, and it spurred him forward, encouraging him to push them both further into the washing machine as he moved his hips harder. "Please," she gasped, only seconds away from losing herself.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke as clearly as she could, not caring how loud she was being. "I wanna cum! Please, Spencer, please!"

"Do it," he grunted, giving her a few more deep, purposeful thrusts to aid in her high. "I got you, pretty girl." That's what did it for her. She yelled out as her body tensed and her walls fluttered around him, everything absolutely burning and blinding until eventually she was spent.

Spencer held himself inside of her for a few seconds, bringing himself closer to the edge before he roughly pulled out and away, leaving Y/N empty and alone. She was tired as hell and completely fucked out, but still she wanted more than anything to help him, ever the needy little slut, as he'd so eloquently called her. So she turned around, peeling herself away from the washing machine and dropping to her knees in front of him, not waiting for him to say anything.

She promptly leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around his cock, wasting no time hollowing her cheeks and setting a fast pace sucking him off. It had somewhat taken him by surprise, but he welcomed it, gathering her hair away from her face and watching as she went to work, practically worshipping the ground he stood on. Eventually she pushed herself all the way forward, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. Instead of pulling back to breathe, she held herself there and gagged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes before removing herself, taking two deep breaths, and going right back to work.

"Look at you," he mused, his voice barely there but with enough volume that allowed Y/N to hear him. "You look so good, pathetic and choking on my cock. Such a good fucking girl, fuck—"

In no time he was gripping her hair tighter and his breathing started to falter. Y/N held herself still as he came in her mouth, most of it hitting the back of her throat and all of it coating her tongue. She moaned around him, blinking tears away and running her hands over his ass until he pulled away from her and let go of her hair.

Standing up, Y/N swallowed most of his cum but purposely let some of it spill out of her mouth and down her chin, to which she used her middle finger to scoop it up and slide it back into her mouth. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching as his tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit it softly.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, Y/N ran a hand through her hair and smiled. "See, that wasn't bad at all. No trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only trouble is you. Eavesdropping, making me fuck you in a semi-public place, et cetera..." He laughed as he pulled his pants up and re-adjusted himself as though nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Y/N teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He laughed against them, pulling her closer by her waist and resting his hands there when she pulled away.

As if to signal the end of their... whatever they were going to call it, Y/N's washer buzzed and she turned around to attend to her laundry. As she transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Spencer came up behind her and brushed the hair away from her neck.

"You know, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything when I... called you a slut. I would never want to be mean to you or anything, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

Y/N almost laughed, amused again by how dominant he was during sex but then immediately a big 'ol softie once it was over. It was such a fun contrast, and truthfully, as much as she loved his dominant side, she wanted to see more of his softer one. So she turned around to meet him and caressed his cheek, smiling kindly. "I know you don't mean it to be mean. It was hot. And I appreciate you checking up on me, it's sweet. You're sweet."

Before he could say anything, his washer buzzed. So he settled on leaning forward, kissing her cheek, and walking away to do his laundry.

The two of them worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company until they realized they both had to wait for the dryer. 20 minutes.

"Round two?" he asked her with a mischievous grin.

Y/N returned it and took a step towards him when the door opened, laundry gods be damned.

"Oh, hey guys!" Olivia from down the hall chirped as she walked in, striding to her own station.

At least they had the rest of the weekend.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid

1K notes · View notes

utopianvoices · 3 years

Text

past, present, future → b.chan

synopsis: Your best friend drags you to his high school reunion against your will, and never have you encountered such chaos. Alternatively, you go on the journey of making more friends, and a potential lover.

genre: high school acquaintances to lovers au; fluff, one second of angst

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 14.4k

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, kinda dialogue heavy (oops)

note: i am BACK with this mess of a fic. it took me too long to finish this, and i apologise for any shitty writing :3 thanks to my little babie @curanonemu for making sure i finished this and supporting me as usual muAH. new formatting on posts too weeeee (new year, new me fsdhfgs jk no)!! also, synopsis kinda sucks i’m sorry :P hope y’all enjoy! x

You did not want to go for your high school reunion dinner.

High school is a time for many that is either the best, or worst time of their lives. Forever friends are found there and painstakingly embarrassing memories are made in run down buildings with people you care about. Except, you didn’t have any such attachments.

Those three years were nothing but a filler for you as you studied, helped out in the library, and hung out with one person you called your best friend.

And on top of it all, it wasn’t even a high school reunion dinner meant for you.

The night the bomb is dropped on you, Changbin walks into the living room of the apartment you both share just outside the grounds of your university, and goes straight to the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal because cooking and Changbin did not get along well. The apartment was way cheaper than the dorms your school provided, and it definitely did not have any nosy RAs who were just out there to torture students for their own viewing pleasure.

On top of all that, you could live with your best friend and not some random stranger who might very much as well be a psychotic killer. Perhaps, Changbin could have some questionable habits, like talking to himself in a baby voice while looking in the mirror, but nothing that threatened your life.

You hear Changbin’s phone ringing from the kitchen as you aimlessly flip through the shows available on Netflix, deciding which new show you should watch and commit to, when your best friend’s boisterous laughter fills your ears. Used to the noise, you roll your eyes before increasing the volume of the TV, finally deciding to rewatch Sherlock.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re about to solve the known mystery together with Benedict Cumberbatch when Changbin walks in front of the TV, automatically eliciting a whine from you as you crane your neck left and right to catch a glimpse of the screen.

“What the fuck, Bin?” You finally yell, frowning at the boy in front of you. Realising that he probably wanted something, considering the fact that he wasn’t moving till you asked him, you switch the TV off and settle back into the sofa, throwing him a death glare. “What do you want from me, pest?”

Something’s definitely amiss when you see Changbin shuffling his feet and looking at the ground, a guilty smile ever-present on his face.

“Whatever it is, my answer is no,” you say distantly, leaning back into the sofa with crossed arms. “So give it up.”

“Oh c’mon Y/n! At least hear me out?” Changbin cries out loudly, dropping onto his knees with clasped hands.

Heaving out a sigh, you slowly unfold your arms and lean forward, eyebrows raised as you nod at the poor boy in front of you. “I’ll hear you out. But don’t expect me to say yes.”

“Um...” Changbin starts, eyes darting around the room as he tries to find the right words. “So my high school friends are having a reunion dinner next week and I told them I’d go, but I also said I’d bring you along and they were too happy and so now I think you’ll have to come with me but-”

“Woah woah woah, a high school reunion party? Absolutely not.”

It’s not like you had anything against his friends. You did have brief interactions with a few of them in high school and you knew they were pretty decent lads, but there was no way you were following Changbin to what was meant to be a friends’ gathering.

“But why not!” Changbin whines, waddling over to you on his knees. “It’ll be really fun!”

“Yeah, fun for you,” you deadpan, staring at your pitiful best friend who has now resorted to throwing you puppy eyes. “They’re your friends after all, not mine.”

“That’s right. But they could be. Don’t you think it’s time you start finding more friends who are not me?”

Changbin’s once pitiful eyes held something other than desperation at that moment; they held concern.

It was true that you had no other friend other than Changbin. You knew lots of people, sure, but you wouldn’t call them your friends. With no friends to your name other than that one, it also wasn’t hard to guess that you never dated too. But all that mattered is that you were fine with it, right?

“You know that I don’t need any other friends. You’re more than enough for me. Truthfully, I don’t think I could deal with another Changbin in my life.”

Your words incite chuckles from Changbin, but that doesn’t stray him from his original goal.

“How about this,” he starts, opting to sit cross-legged on the floor because his knees were starting to hurt way too much. “You come to the reunion with me, and the moment you feel uncomfortable, we both can leave no questions asked. Deal?”

As tempting as that sounded, you knew it was not fair to cut Changbin’s precious time with his friends just because you did not want to hang out with new people. “That’s not fair to you.”

Shaking his head, Changbin stares at you, the fire in his eyes clearly visible, and you know that he had made up his mind. “I don’t care. It’s either you follow me and we can leave whenever, or I don’t go at all.”

There was no turning back now. You knew that in the end, what Changbin wants, he gets.

You sigh numbly before nodding your head in defeat, dreading the day that was to come where you had to leave the comfort of your apartment.

With no warning, you’re engulfed in a tight hug by a nuisance chanting “thank you” a million times. You ease into the hug, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a light squeeze, before pulling back to see that he had a smile similar to the one on your face.

“I guess you’re right about me needing more friends. I can’t be annoying you for the rest of my life, right?”

ii.

You’re once again reminded why you don’t go for social gatherings as you take in the various clothes strewn all over your room.

“Hey- Woah, what happened here?” Changbin asks, bewildered at the sight in front of him. “It looks like a hurricane hit your room or something.”

“Yes, it’s called Hurricane Y/n Is Screwed,” you reply sarcastically, before sinking down into your bed in defeat. Looking up at your best friend, you decide to give it a shot and put on your most pitiful face. “Do I really have to go?”

“Yes, you really have to go,” Changbin replies without sparing you another glance, as he sifts through the heap of clothes on your bed. “And get that ugly look off your face, please. It makes me want to barf.”

Flipping your best friend off, you manoeuvre yourself such that you’re facing Changbin, and look upon him in curiosity.

After what felt like forever, pieces of clothing are thrown at you, along with a reminder that you had three hours before you had to leave.

“Three?!” You screech, causing Changbin to wince and cover his ears. “You should’ve told me earlier so that I have more time!”

“What are you so loud for, you damn pterodactyl? And three hours is more than enough. We’re just going to a cheap restaurant a few blocks away because we’re all broke college students.”

Huffing at your insolent best friend, you grab the clothes he threw at you and make your way to the bathroom, not bothering to contemplate his decision because you knew he had pretty good taste in fashion. In fact, half the clothes you had in your wardrobe were bought with him as your advisor, so you’re really in no position to criticise his choices.

You stare at your reflection and let out a nervous breath; you weren’t used to meeting new people, and there was no way you were going to be able to handle a hoard of newly turned adults. The last thing you wanted was to cut Changbin’s time short with his friends, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you make a promise to yourself that you’ll get through the night by whatever means. Even if it meant hours of torture.

Changbin, with absolutely no urgency, is sitting on the couch watching the fourth Harry Potter movie, when you walk into the living room, makeup half done and still dressed in your stay-at-home clothes. Boys, you think.

“I think I need to know who and how many people will be there,” you finalise, watching Changbin pick up the remote and pausing the movie at exactly when Cedric dies; poor chap. “ So that I can, you know, mentally prepare myself.”

“You really don’t, but okay. There’ll be nine of us, including you. Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix from the dance team, Jeongin and Seungmin from the baseball team, Chan from the swimming team, soccer team, and honours board, and Jisung who was pretty much useless like me.”

“Wow.”

“In my defense, you’ve seen all of these dudes at least once,” Changbin says, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway, they’re all really nice and fun so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Says you,” you mutter under your breath, before returning to your room to prepare for your doom.

iii.

The sign of the restaurant flickers periodically as you stand in the middle of the street with Changbin by your side. People brush past you as they hurry to meet their friends and families in the various restaurants lining the street, excitement evident in their steps.

Taking a deep breath, you push open the door. Immediately, a gush of warm air welcomes you, causing you to let out a content sigh.

“Hey Changbin!” A loud voice calls out from behind you, and the both of you turn in your place. The sight in front of you gives you equal amounts of anxiety and fear, as you wonder how you were going to handle the table of one, two, three… seven boys, including the embarrassment standing beside you, who was now busy doing some sort of weird wave in favour of a greeting.

“Changbin, please,” you plead, burying your face in your hands as you willed for someone to transport you back to your apartment so that you didn’t have to face reality and stand next to your shameless friend.

Chuckling sheepishly, your best friend finally stops, patting your back before walking towards the table at the back of the restaurant. “Oops sorry. Let’s go meet the rest!”

Here goes nothing.

Reaching the almost-filled table, your eyes dart from face to face, trying to see if you could remember anyone currently seated in front of you.

“Guys! This is Y/n, my best friend,”—at this, a few complaints erupt from around the table—”Gosh, fine. My other best friend.”

Immediately, at least three people shout their greetings your way.

“Hi Y/n! Nice to meet you!”

“Yo~ Changbin’s told us lots about you.”

“Y/n, sit beside me!”

Exasperated, your eyes flit around the table, trying your best to smile at all of them (which honestly turns out to look more like a pained grimace). Luckily, there was one seemingly sane person present.

“Shut up, everyone.” A boy with blue hair and sharp eyes shushes everyone. “Hi Y/n, it’s nice to have you here. I’m Jeongin.”

At this, the once quiet table is back to chaos as complaints are directed towards Jeongin for sneakily introducing himself first. Taking advantage of the mess, Changbin guides you towards the empty seats and finally settles the both of you down. Now all the seats were filled, except for one empty seat left beside you.

You’re about to ask Chanbgin about the empty chair, but before you can, he claps his hands, attracting everyone’s attention. “Okay, everyone will take turns introducing themselves. Seungmin, you start.”

The sandy haired boy seated on the right of Changbin waves both his hands while bouncing in his seat, reminding you of a puppy. “I’m Seungmin!”

Next is Jeongin, who just gives you a small smile.

Beside him, you see a blonde haired boy, what is up with the hair colours, who just smiles brightly, eyes shining brightly and freckles visible. “Hello, I’m Felix. It’s great to meet you!”

Taken aback by the deep voice, which was a total contrast to his cute appearance, you’re unable to hide the shock from your face. This triggers a bout of chuckles from the table; it was probably common for people to display similar reactions when meeting Felix.

Before pretty boy (that’s what you decided to remember him as) could introduce himself, the black haired boy resembling a squirrel interrupts him. “I’m Jisung!”

You recognise him as the one who shouted when you and Changbin entered the restaurant, and you’re about to acknowledge him when you’re cut off.

“Oi Han, it was my turn to introduce myself! Who allowed you to skip the line?”

“I do what I want,” was Jisung’s response, and pretty boy looked like he was one push away from murder.

Just as you’re sure that you were about to witness a murder, Changbin chides the two boys and breaks up the petty argument. “Just introduce yourselves without any nonsense, please.”

“I’m Hyunjin,” pretty boy mutters sulkily, giving Jisung a death stare. “And I can dance better than Jisung.”

“You motherf-”

“And I’m Minho,” the last person introduces himself, successfully cutting off Jisung’s profanity mid-word. “Sorry, don’t mind those two. They’re like Tom and Jerry.”

Smiling weakly, you muster up the courage to introduce yourself to the four pairs of eyes staring at you. Hyunjin and Jisung were busy having a staredown, while Changbin was eyeing the meat sizzling on the grill. “Hi, I’m Y/n, Changbin’s friend. It’s nice to meet all of you. Thanks for having me here.”

And just like that, everyone is back to their own conversations, with Changbin piling the perfectly done meat onto his plate. You take in a deep breath and look around the table at the happy faces.

This isn’t so bad, you thought, a little chaotic, but otherwise entertaining.

“They’re overwhelming huh?”

Any effort to mask your bewilderment vanishes as you catch the knowing look on Minho’s face. A guilty smile blooms on your face and you nod your head. “Just a little.”

“I get that,” he starts, but soon enough, there’s a content smile on his face that shows his love for his friends. “But at the end of the day, I know that these monkeys will be there for me no matter what, so I guess it makes it all worth it.”

Smiling softly at his words, you almost coo at the light blush dusting Minho’s face as reality catches up to him.

“Ahem anyway. How’s living with Changbin?” He clears his throat before changing the topic, instinctively putting some meat on your plate before helping himself, earning a grateful smile from you.

“It’s not too bad,” you start, feeling Changbin’s gaze on you after having overheard Minho’s question. “Except sometimes, he talks to himself in the mirror and it’s pretty scarring.”

“Y/n!” Changbin whines as Minho guffaws beside you, nodding his head to your answer, clearly having witnessed that side of Changbin before. “Wait till Chan comes. At least he’ll support me.”

At the unfamiliar name, you furrow your brows and the name in the form of a question tumbles out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Chan?”

“He’s not here yet,” Minho addresses your confusion, having heard your little slip up. “He had to oversee the training for the upcoming soccer match, being the captain and all, and apparently he had a tutoring session after. He should be here soon though.”

That explains the empty chair beside you.

“Oh, he needs to get tutored after training?” You ask, feeling bad for the unknown boy. Having to absorb information after physical activities is torture. You couldn’t even focus after 40 minutes of gym. “That’s rough.”

At your assumption, a cat-like smirk spreads across Minho’s face. “Oh no, darling. He tutors after his training.”

There’s no way you’re to be blamed for the first thought that pops into your head after discovering that said Chan was responsible and smart. You’ve seen people struggling with just one extracurricular, and begging teachers for extra credits because of poor time management.

So, it’s really not your fault that the first words that enter your head is, that’s hot.

Just then, the bell situated above the door rings, indicating that someone was entering the restaurant. You’re not bothered by it, until Felix’s deep voice fills your ear.

“Chan!”

It’s almost comical how slowly you turn towards the sound, blush threatening to fill your cheeks at your first impression of Chan, without even meeting him. And as Giovanni Torriano has once said:

Talk of the Devil, and he's presently at your elbow.

Your eyes follow the figure of the devilishly breathtaking boy walking towards your table. He’s still dressed in what you assume was his soccer jersey, black hair tousled from the wind and practice. Shaking your head, you rid yourself of that inappropriate thought and opt to stare at the bowl of radish that looked the most interesting to you.

“Hey guys!” Chan smiles widely at the group of friends, as a few of them immediately get up from their seats to greet him with their usual bro hug. He sets his things down beside Minho, and is taking his seat when he spots you. Confusion clear in his eyes, he looks around the table, silently asking for an explanation as to what a stranger was doing at their usual table.

You realise his staring and try to introduce yourself, but you find yourself unable to form sentences as the reality of who Chan was hits you.

The star swimmer of your high school’s swimming team, and the top student of every single year. He was the epitome of popular. Everyone knew his name, and apparently he had never missed one day of lessons or training. On top of that, he used to regularly tutor in the library.

“Oh, this is my friend Y/n!” Changbin pipes up, slinging an arm around you. “Same high school as us, and my roommate now.”

At this, the confusion clouding Chan’s hazel eyes clears up, and he turns to face you, extending a hand. “The one who used to carry thick books everywhere and helped out in the library right? I’m Chan!”

Being the complete opposite of your best friend, you’re sure no one has ever noticed you in the library. You blend in perfectly with the shadows and shelves, and you didn’t usually help the students out, opting to arrange the books in the storeroom—the one small thing you could do to help out the aged librarian who brought you mouth-watering brownies every Thursday.

The thick books, in your defense, was your attempt at trying to finish the Harry Potter series whenever you had the spare time. You never had to explain yourself because you never expected anyone to notice. Especially not the most popular guy in school who had a million other friends.

But there he was, in all his glory, eyes crinkled into crescents as he waits for you to shake his hand, seemingly remembering you when nobody else did.

A small nudge to your side from Changbin breaks you out of your reverie and you grab his hand, silently noting how soft they were. “Nice to meet you.”

Smiling at you, he gently shakes your hand before turning to the other boys, immediately making jokes and laughing along.

“What was that about?” Changbin whispers harshly, eyeing you and Chan suspiciously.

“What was what?”

“Chan remembering you! You’ve never even met before.”

Looking at your best friend, you shrug before reaching out for another piece of meat. “Beats me.”

Changbin opens his mouth to interrogate you more, when he’s successfully cut off by Seungmin.

“Y/n! Tell us more about yourself! I’m bored of hearing about these idiots.”

Jeers sound from around the table as you let out a nervous chuckle, aware of how everyone’s attention was on you. “Me?” You ask, pointing to yourself for extra confirmation.

Yea!” Seungmin replies, nodding vigorously. “What are you doing now, and how was high school for you, and just everything!”

Noting your hesitation, Changbin is about to step in to save you, but your hand on his thigh stops him. Looking at you curiously, he realises from your expression that you’re finally about to do what he had been nagging at you to do since day one of becoming your friend.

iv.

‘Is it possible for a stomach to burst from too much laughing?’ is what runs through your head as tears stream down your face from laughing uncontrollably at another joke Jisung was saying.

“Wait, I remember Changbin telling me that people used to refer to you as Baby Photos when you all played at the school shows,” you ask after you had recovered from your laughing fit, curiosity piquing. “What’s that all about?”

At the mention of the familiar name, the boys let out groans and Hyunjin starts hitting Jisung. “It’s all Jisung’s fault!”

“Basically, he somehow got ahold of all our baby photos and submitted it to the administration on behalf of us,” Changbin explains, rolling his eyes at the memory. “So if you see our yearbook, all eight of us have our baby photos instead of the actual photo we were supposed to submit.”

How is that even possible?!

“We still don’t know how he managed to do that.” Chan answers your unasked question, shaking his head fondly at the ridiculous memory.

At this, Jisung pipes up. “Everything is possible when you’re charming and handsome. You lot won’t be able to relate!”

And you finally agree that the beating Jisung gets after was well deserved.

“Restaurant’s closing in ten!”

The owner of the restaurant, a nice old lady who had a soft spot for the boys, calls out from the back. She had already let all of you stay past her usually closing time, and even gave you some free side dishes, together with a loving chide about how the boys don’t come and visit her anymore.

The screech of the chairs fill the place as everyone gets up, stomach and heart full from the meal and company. You smile to yourself, glad that you let yourself be convinced to follow Changbin because you had one of the best days in your life.

“Did you have fun today?” Your best friend asks with a smug smile, already knowing the answer.

“Shut up,” is all you can say—a clear sign that you were admitting defeat. “It was okay.”

“That wounds me,” someone speaks up from behind you, having heard your conversation with Changbin. You whip around to see Chan clutching his heart and wearing an exaggerated hurt face. “I thought we had a connection.”

“I-you, no, that’s not-what” you splutter, horrified at the thought of Changbin’s, and now apparently your, friends thinking that you didn’t have a good time with them. There was no way you could let them think as such when they had made you feel so comfortable, and have so much fun.

Your stuttering and horrified expression does it, and Chan bursts into laughter. “I’m so sorry, it was a joke. But your face!”

The guilt and regret is replaced with relief and irritation, and you smack his arm out of habit, something you always did to Changbin when he was being a pain in the ass. But as soon as you do it, you’re once again filled with regret because Oh my God it’s only been two hours, you’re not supposed to just smack people.

“Stop overthinking it, idiot,” Chan cuts you off, adding in a low tier insult to make you feel a bit better about your reflexes. “We’re friends now; all of us.”

Friend to friends. Now that’s an upgrade.

You’re about to say something, when you’re cut off by Changbin screeching unceremoniously as he glances at the time displayed on his lockscreen (it’s a picture of the two of you making ugly faces—he refused to change it).

“Shit, we’re going to miss the last bus that leaves from here!” He almost shouts, grabbing his and your things. “Adios bitchachos!”

A snicker or two echoes through the empty restaurant at Changbin’s farewell, together with requests of bringing you the next time they meet.

“Make sure Y/n comes for the next dinner! Doesn’t matter if you’re here or not!”

Jisung earns himself a string of vulgarities from Changbin for that, as he guffaws and hi-fives Hyunjin.

You’re barely able to say your farewell to the boys with Changbin dragging you out of the restaurant, but you manage to shout out a few words while waving. “Thank you for today! See you soon!”

The bus arrives just as you reach the bus stop, and Changbin all but collapses on one of the empty seats from the running you both did.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re foul.” You’re staring at your best friend in disgust when he starts questioning you about the dinner, nausea forgotten.

“So…” he starts, pivoting in his seat to face you, cheek leaning against his hand which rested on the seat in front of him. “For someone who was dead set on not coming, you sure looked like you had lots of fun.”

Rolling your eyes at his words, you turn to face Changbin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Me making more friends?”

“Of course, of course~” he drawls, smirk ever-present on his face. “And who do we have to thank for that?”

“And you ask me why I don’t listen to you or ask you for favours.” Turning your attention back to your phone, you open up Temple Run in hopes of keeping yourself occupied for the bus ride back; but Changbin had other plans.

Whining, he snatches your phone from your hands and slips it into his pocket. “Y/n! Tell me everything!”

“What do you want to know?!” you ask, exasperated. “You were there literally the whole time.”

“Yes I know, but I want to know what you think of all my friends!” Changbin claps his hands in excitement, leaning forward in anticipation. “Well, our friends now.”

You can’t help but sigh as you prepare for the long bus ride ahead—but somehow, you don’t miss the sudden warmth enveloping you as you recalled the past few hours.

“First of all, Jisung and Hyunjin are hilarious, it’s like…”

Two weeks later, and you’re knee deep in shit. Not literally, of course, but you might as well be.

It’s the infamous hell month in your university, where every student (regardless of major) has a shit ton of assignments and tests to complete, and the library is open 24 hours for poor souls like yourself.

It’s two in the morning when you’re working on your second essay of the day. There are crumpled balls of paper all over your desk and surrounding your bin, courtesy of your pathetic aim.

“You’re cleaning everything up later,” Changbin speaks up from across the dining table you both were sharing to get work done, tapping away on his equipment as he works on some new beat. “I don’t expect every ball to go in, but to miss everything? That’s some serious talent.”

“Shut your mouth, Seo.” Flipping your best friend off, you finally push yourself away from the table, stretching a bit before making your way to the kitchen to fix yourself a bowl of ramen in hopes of satiating the beast growling in your stomach.

As you open each shelf, you slowly come to the realisation that you were completely out of snacks and food. Even the single frozen bag of peas and empty ice cream tub stares back at you in pity as you scan the fridge.

Taking a breath to calm yourself, you slowly turn around to face your unsuspecting, so-called, best friend. Walking towards him, you knock the table a few times to get his attention.

He notices your presence, and removes his headphones to look at you quizzically, his full attention on your blank face.

“When were you going to tell me that you had consumed every single food item we have?”

It’s almost comical how quickly the blood drains from his face, as his eyes dart all around the room, skillfully avoiding you. If it were any other situation, you would’ve definitely laughed while falling onto the floor. But this wasn’t any other situation.

This was war.

And honestly, it would have been a war that you would’ve definitely won—if not for the loud sound your stomach just produced.

Narrowing your eyes at the accused seated a few feet away from you, you walk over to the countertop with your wallet, eyes not leaving Changbin for a second.

“I will deal with you when I am back from the convenience store.”

And with the sight of Changbin gulping imprinted in your mind, you slam your apartment door behind you and make your way grumpily to the 24-hour convenience store located seven minutes away.

vi.

The electronic chime sounds throughout the store as the part-timer throws you a friendly greeting from the counter. “Welcome!”

Reciprocating with a smile of your own, you take slow steps towards the shelf with the various assorted packets of ramen, and your hand automatically reaches for your favourite one. Just as it comes into contact with the plastic, you can feel yourself salivating and your stomach growls in appreciation. It’s a myth, you think. There’s no way food like carrots and asparagus is what gets students through school. The only saving grace you have during this period is packets of ramen and chocolate milk. Countless numbers of assignments and tests are already torturous enough; healthy, tasteless food on top of that? No, thanks.

Clutching the ramen packet in your hands like it was the treasure of your life, you walk towards the milk section to complete your meal with your favourite carton of chocolate milk. There was something about the combination of milk that combats the spice from the ramen, and you’re about to drop onto your knees right there and then to worship the people who invented ramen and chocolate milk, when you see the last carton being taken away right in front of your eyes.

Without any second thoughts, you rush towards the person and grab their arm, already getting ready to pull out the sob story of how you absolutely need the chocolate milk to survive. Surprised by the sudden contact, the man holding the carton whips his head towards you, eyes wide.

There’s a fleeting sense of familiarity that passes through you when you see the hazel peeking out from above the mask that covered the rest of his face, but you’re too preoccupied to dwell on the thought. Just as you’re about to open your mouth to beg, you’re cut off by an all too familiar voice.

“Y/n?”

Huh?

You stare at each other for a few seconds before the realisation of who you were holding, no, clinging onto dawns on you.

“C-Chan?”

In a lively city that thrived at night, there were a thousand other 24-hour convenience stores scattered all around in every corner. It also wasn’t everyday that you decided to go to the convenience store for food, opting to go to the grocery stores instead. So, if you calculated correctly, the chance of you bumping into Chan at 2:30 a.m. at that very particular store should be close to never.

Yet, there he was standing right in front of you, chocolate milk clutched in one hand.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh I came here to water my plants.”

Plants?

You’re more than confused, till you hear the soft snicker that escapes his mouth. Narrowing your eyes at his antics, you decide to bite back with a “Ha ha, very funny.”

“So… Are you planning to hold onto me forever?” Chan teases you, eyes gesturing to your hand that was still clutching onto him, before looking back at you with a twinkle in his brown eyes. “Because I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

With the whole bumping-into-Chan thing that happened, it had completely slipped your mind that you were still holding onto him. You snatch your hand away in horror, eyes widening as you feel the heat creep up your neck. “S-sorry.” And before you could stop yourself, you also continue to spill why you had grabbed his arm in the first place. “I was just craving for chocolate milk, and the one you took was the last carton left.”

Looking back and forth at you and the carton, you start to feel like an absolute idiot, until he reaches out and pushes the carton into your hands. “You can have it then,” he says, and walks away. “Stay right there, let me grab some ramen and we can have supper together!”

You stare at the carton for a few seconds, the droplets of water that formed on the outside cool against your fingers. On a normal day, you would have refused the milk vehemently, telling the other person not to worry and to have the last carton. But today wasn’t any other day.

And Chan wasn’t any other person.

We’re friends, after all, is what echoes in your mind as you look up at the boy walking towards you, two packets of ramen in his hand and a carton of strawberry milk. Smiling at him, you finally express your gratitude for his kind sacrifice.

“Thanks for this,” you say, waving the carton in front of him. “I don’t think I would have made it through the night without it.”

Nodding with a smile, he tears his two packets of ramen open and pours in the hot water that was situated at the back of the store, grabbing yours from you in the process. “What brings you here at this hour? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be craving ramen and chocolate milk in the middle of the night on any other day.”

“You’re right about that,” you reply dejectedly, recalling the big pile of assignments waiting for you back at the apartment. “It’s hell month in school, and I’m drowning in work. On top of that, Changbin exhausted every single food source we have at home!”

Chan does his very best to hold back his laughter at your expression; he knew you were angry, but you looked as threatening as a kitten. And thankfully he succeeds, because he really did not want to be on the receiving end of your wrath. Although, he thinks, you really are not going to be able to do much damage.

“How dare he,” Chan agrees, finally taking a seat beside you, the steam from the ramen warming his face up. “Hey but, if he hadn’t done that we wouldn’t have bumped into each other here.”

You nod your head in agreement, thinking about how to start a casual conversation, when you are suddenly hit with the realisation that you knew essentially nothing about Chan. You didn’t know what university he went to, what he majored in, and what he was doing in the convenience store that late at night too.

One question at a time, you decide.

“What are you doing out this late anyway?” you ask, slurping the noodles and breathing out in relief at the taste of the ramen against your tongue.

“I come here often,” is what he replies, before taking a sip of his milk. “My uni’s about fifteen minutes from here, and I usually work the best at this time. Being a music production major, there aren’t very strict deadlines, but I’ve still got to get my shit done.”

Oh. That’s all your questions answered.

You know the trouble of trying to get questions out, especially for you, who has never really made the effort in going the extra mile in interacting with people. It’s annoying and nerve-wrecking, and probably the biggest reason why you refused making new friends. The whole process was just painful. So, when Chan answers your unasked questions, you feel the hypothetical weight lifting off your shoulder, and you open your mouth to express your gratitude. At least, that’s what you had planned to do.

“Are you a mind reader?” you blurt out, before immediately clamping your mouth shut and facepalming. “Ugh, sorry. I have a really bad habit of blurting out whatever comes to my mind.” You groan at your inconvenient habit, and Chan pats the top of your hand in hopes of comforting you.

“I just meant to say that I was thinking of asking you those questions and you answered them even before I asked.” Chan looks at you with a smile, intrigued by your personality. You clearly didn’t have any other friends other than Changbin—but you never looked as if you were upset about it. It was also clear that you were content with not interacting with people, but when you did, you were never rude about it and you really did try your best. Never in a million years would he have thought that the student scurrying around the library with tons of books would turn out to be someone like you.

“At least that means you’re an honest person!” Chan says, beaming at you. “C’mon, learn to look at the brighter side of things.”

Shrugging your shoulders with a tired smile on your face, you turn back to your ramen, which has now gone soggy due to your little chit-chat with the boy beside you.

There’s a comfortable silence that hangs between the two of you, until Chan speaks up again. “What’s your major? I realised I never asked.”

At the mention of school, you pull an automatic stank face before replying. “English Lit with a minor in Philosophy. The worst decision of my life.”

“And why’s that?”

“I never knew there’d be this much essay writing!” you cry out, throwing your head against the table. The rest of your words come out muffled, but somehow Chan manages to catch it. “I mean, I knew there was going to be lots of essays. But not this much.”

“In the major’s defense, that’s kind of a dumb move on your part, Y/n.”

“Yes, I know. Please don’t remind me of my idiocy.” You finally sit up, before sadly chewing on your noodles. “At least I have ramen and chocolate milk to keep me going.”

And as the night went on, both of you continued the conversation back and forth, you learning more about him and him about you. You talk about your assignments, how annoying some of your professors were, and how living with Changbin was. All the times you had to chase him to clean up after himself, or all the times he stayed up with you until ungodly hours just because you had procrastinated too much and was rushing an assignment in the last hour. You also learnt more about Chan; how he was studying music production because that was his dream since he was young, and how he actually roomed with Jisung, who was equally as messy as Changbin. The only difference was that Chan couldn’t be bothered about the mess.

“Changbin, Jisung, and I actually used to make tracks and post them on Soundcloud,” Chan says, smiling as he recalls the three high schoolers cooped up in his room with the bare minimum equipment that wiped out half their savings. “We even had rapper names.”

“Ooooo~” you tease, nudging his shoulder as his ears start to turn a bright red. “What was yours?”

“What’s in the past should stay in the past, Y/n. Let bygones be bygones. No point talking about it now.”

“Awww, c’mon!” You plead, fidgeting in your seat. “Was it something embarrassing like Cheminem, or something?”

“I can’t help but feel more relaxed when your standards are that low,” Chan says, with some form of relief in his voice. “Uh, mine was CB97.”

“Don’t tell me…” you mutter, eyes wide as the laughter threatens to escape your lips. “Did you really just use your initials and your birth year? Talk about bare minimum!”

“Hey! It’s better than Meminen, or Cheminem, or whatever you said earlier.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you decide to probe further. “What were Jisung’s and Changbin’s?”

Chan stares at you with wide eyes, your mischievous eyes giving away your evil plans. “No. Changbin will kill me.”

“Don’t be a party pooper! I’ll treat you to ramen next time if you tell me.” You try tempting Chan with food, with no hopes that it would work. But somehow, you see his resolve crumbling, and realise that you just needed one final push.

“I’ll get you chocolate milk and two packets of ramen.”

At that point, Chan regrets telling you his habit of eating two packets of ramen with chocolate milk almost every night when he stays up. “You shouldn’t have given me the milk then!” is what you said while chiding him, and he just claimed that “you looked like you needed it more than me” while saying that he really wasn’t picky about the flavour of milk.

So when you tempt him with his cravings, he has no choice but to give in.

Twenty minutes later, you walk into your shared apartment, a mysterious smile playing on your lips as you drop the keys into the little holder by the door. It was made by yours truly during a random pottery workshop you signed up for. The shape was slightly off, and the colour wasn’t bright or vibrant—but it worked and that’s what mattered.

At the sound of the keys clinking in the holder, Changbin’s head shoots up to gauge your mood from your expression. Surely you would be at least a little less angry after your little run to the convenience store, he thought.

But instead of seeing a blank expression, or even an angry one, he sees the smile on your face and his heart drops. Why were you smiling? The fact that you were smiling made him feel a hundred times worse, and he had already started saying his prayers.

“So, Changbin…” you start, leaning against one of the chairs at the dining table. You weren’t even angry about the empty shelves anymore, but you just could not pass on the opportunity of teasing your best friend. “Or should I say, SpearB?”

And you’re more than content with the way his face morphs into that of horror, as he grips the edges of the table. “How did you know?” he asks, his voice strained and barely above a whisper; one would think that the whole world had found out about his darkest secret from the way he was reacting.

Shrugging playfully, you go back to your seat and sort out the papers scattered around the table, grabbing your laptop to start working on your assignment again with a full and happy stomach. “Who knows~”

“Y/n, tell me,” he starts to whine, making his way to you on his roller chair. “No one knows other than the boys-”

And the realisation of who the culprit was hits him.

“It was Chan, right?” he asks, already reaching for his phone to scold the older boy. “You must have met him when you went to the store—he’s always getting ramen there.” Typing furiously on his phone, he pauses to look up and whine again. “I can’t believe you two gossiped about me! And it was me who made you both become friends. The disrespect!”

Finally the laughter you had been holding in breaks out and floods the living room, the sound bouncing off the walls. “I can’t believe,” you start, trying to catch your breath as you continue laughing. “SpearB! What do you do? Impale people with your sharp flow and rhyme?”

“Just shut up, please,” Changbin pleads, plugging his ears with his fingers. “La la la, I can’t hear anything you’re saying.” He rolls back to his side of the table and grabs the headphones, shoving it over his head to drown out your laughter.

Your laugh fest is cut off by your phone vibrating, signalling that you had a new text message. Grabbing it, you tap your phone a few times to open up the messages page.

chan: can’t believe you outed me to changbin chan: traitor y/n: drama queen y/n: i said nth, he figured it out on his own chan: ఠ_ಠ

Giggling at the emoticon Chan used, you unconsciously lean back in your seat as you search your gallery for an emoticon to reply with, assignments forgotten.

“Who’re you texting?” Changbin asks, having heard you giggle at your phone. He’s eyeing you suspiciously, and you knew it was better to answer him, because a curious Changbin is a dangerous Changbin, and he’ll probably stomp over and snatch your phone to see who you were texting anyway. “It’s Chan.”

“When did you two exchange numbers?!”

“Earlier, when we met at the convenience store.”

It was right before the both of you parted ways; when Chan had proposed something that was pretty much impossible to turn down.

“I had fun today,” he said, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other swung the plastic bag containing some chocolates to add to his secret sweet stash. “You said you’re having hell month, right? Hit me up whenever you need an emergency ramen run.” And with that, he pushed his phone into your hands, signalling for you to do the same.

Smiling to yourself, you keyed in your number into the phone clutched in your hand, saving yourself as “Y/n”, and before you could regret your decision, you quickly added a smiley after your name and tossed the phone back to Chan. “Here you go.”

The cool metal is being pressed into your hands, and before you know it, you’ve said your farewell to Chan and were on your way back home.

“Look at you socialising out of your own will,” Changbin states proudly, wiping an imaginary tear as he gives you a fatherly (or what he thinks is fatherly) smile. “Albeit, at the expense of my shame, but if it means my little Y/n making more friends then why not!”

“Please stop, you’re an embarrassment to me, yourself, and literally everyone around us,” you deadpan, clearing your side of the table up. It was time to call it a night, because God knows you’re not going to be able to do anymore work. “Besides, it’s really not that big of a deal. I doubt we’ll continue talking after tonight. It’s probably a one-off thing.”

“Hmmm I wouldn’t be too sure,” Changbin muses. “I feel like there’s something that’ll come out of this.”

vii.

Seo Changbin isn’t a lot of things.

He isn’t tidy, opting to throw his clothes all around his room instead of folding it; he isn’t patient, always screaming at you to “Hurry your ass!” when he had been waiting barely three minutes; and last but not least, he definitely isn’t punctual. “Changbin is my name, and being late is my game” is something you’ve heard way too often from him that it was a wonder you hadn’t murdered him yet.

Changbin isn’t a lot of things—but what he somehow is, is intuitive when it comes to you.

So when you find yourself back at the convenience store at 12:30 a.m., ramen and chocolate milk in front of you as you laugh over some stupid story Chan was saying, you can’t help but curse at how right your best friend was.

You were reaching the end of your hell month, which also indicated it being four weeks since you and Chan had developed the routine of pigging out at the convenience store at terrible hours.

“... and he just fell off the tree!” Chan concludes his story of how Hyunjin fell off a tree in high school, words coming out breathless due to how much the both of you were laughing. “Ah, that brings back memories.”

“I can’t believe I never talked to you guys more then,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It would’ve been hilarious.”

“Someone was too busy with Voldemort,” Chan teases, pushing his nose down flat in what you could only describe as a Voldemort impression. Laughing, you swat his hand away while rolling your eyes at the boy you’ve grown so fond of in a span of four weeks. “Why’d you never talk to us?”

Thinking back to high school, you ask yourself. Why didn’t you ever bother talking to them?

“I guess it’s just cause I already had Changbin,” you start, pausing to think back to the past few years. “As much as I complain about him, he’s really one of the greatest best friends anyone could ask for.”

It was true; Changbin was there for you during high school like no one else had been, and for that you were eternally grateful for him.

“So you were scared to take any other chances since you already got the best?”

People always asked you why you didn’t make more friends in high school. Hell, even your mother kept asking, when other parents struggled to keep their children at home just because they were spending too much time out with friends. But the answer to that question was something you never thought about, and you can’t stop the feeling of shock spreading through your body at what the boy in front of you had just so casually uttered.

You were scared.

“I-I…” you stutter, eyes wide as you stare at the boy in front of you. Chan can’t help the worry that seeps into his face at his words, and he’s starting to wonder if he said anything wrong. “I’ve never ever thought about it. But, oh my God, that makes so much sense.”

After years of waving everyone who asked you why you never made any other friends away just because you yourself didn’t have the answer to the question, you’re hit with a huge realisation of just why you didn’t want to find more friends. And it wasn’t even you who figured it out.

This boy sitting leisurely in front of you, skin pale and soft, with messy black hair framing his face that he never bothered brushing away. This boy, who was as kind as he was hardworking, always willing to help out anyone, even with his own responsibilities. This boy who had been readily there for you at the devil hours for almost every day in the past four weeks, always checking up on you to make sure that you were surviving.

Never in a million years would you have expected someone to figure out something that was locked away so deep inside of your heart, and for it to be Chan, out of everyone. The thought makes your heart race a little, but you decide to blame it on the conversation the both of you were having. It was definitely not because of the boy seated beside you.

“Shocking, huh,” Chan starts, laughing slightly as the worry he had felt earlier replaced with something he could only describe as fondness. “It’s a pity though.”

You look at him questioningly, and what he says next makes you realise a few things that maybe you were better off not realising.

“We would’ve been much happier in high school with you there. I would’ve been much happier.”

As much as you regretted not befriending the other seven boys in high school, you were starting to regret bumping into Chan that very first night even more. If you hadn’t bumped into him, you would’ve never spent so much time with him, never realised how great of a person he was, and lastly, you would’ve never started falling for Bang Chan.

viii.

It’s like déjà vu.

With your exams and assignments completed, you find yourself watching the latest season of Haikyuu when Changbin enters the room, waltzing towards your reclined figure.

“Y/n~” Changbin starts, poking your shoulder to get your attention. “Whatever your annoying ass needs now, it’s a no,” you say without even turning to look at the boy beside you.

“Oh? Even if it was an invitation to dinner with the boys later tonight?”

And when your head whips to the side to look at your best friend, you’re so tempted to just wipe that smirk clean off his face, because the bitch knew you would have said yes.

“I fucking hate you,” is what you can mutter, before switching the television and throwing the remote to the side, choosing to ignore Changbin as you walk towards your room to pick an outfit. But you’re forced to stop in your tracks when Changbin casually utters the next few words.

“Chan’s especially excited to see you.”

You’re not sure what Changbin means by that, but there’s no denying the increase in your heart rate at the mention of the dimpled boy.

“What?” You try your best to sound as nonchalant as you could, hoping that your best friend wouldn’t pick up the slight quiver in your voice. But, of course, he wasn’t your best friend for nothing.

“I said, your little boyfriend’s excited to see you.” Changbin smirks at your expression, stretching his legs out to rest it on the coffee table in front of your sofa. “And it looks like you’re just as excited.”

Red travels up your neck and spreads across your face, as you sputter at your best friend’s preposterous words. “W-what are you- I- Huh-”

Realising that your little breakdown wasn’t helping your case at all, you take a deep breath to calm yourself, before speaking to the insolent brat in front of you. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But you like him, don’t you?”

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, and the first instinct you have is to play dumb. “O-of course I like him. He’s my friend.”

“I will pretend like I did not hear that pathetic attempt of you trying to act dumb,” Changbin states robotically, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Y/n. It’s obvious. So stop pretending and just fess up. It’ll be easier for the both of us.”

You had two choices now: Either fess up and prepare yourself for at least a thousand years of teasing, or just completely deny it till your deathbed.

Clearly, the second option was much more appealing.

“No, Changbin,” you snap with as much conviction as you could. “I do not have a crush on Chan. He’s just a really good friend.”

The knowing look on his face wavers, and you know that you’re seconds away from success. It’s not that you did not trust your best friend with the information of you having a crush on one of his friends. You just did not want to say it out loud—saying it out loud would mean that you were confirming it, and there will be no going back. And that scared you.

You were scared of liking someone who was way too perfect, and who probably would never like you back.

So the best solution was to keep your little crush hidden away in the depths of your heart, and slowly get over it as soon as you could. It was as easy as it could get.

ix.

Apparently, you realise, it wasn’t at all easy to get over a simple crush.

The smell of meat fills your nostrils as the eight boys chatter loudly over the sound of the sizzling of the food. You’re back at the same restaurant, with the same boys, except it wasn’t exactly the same as the last time.

This time, you had a raging crush on the boy who insisted on sitting beside you, leg brushing against yours every few seconds as he piles the food on your plate instead of his.

It definitely didn’t help that every time your hands brushed while reaching out for the side dishes around the table, you pulled your hand back as if you had just been burned, ears immediately heating up.

“Did you know Chan told Y/n about 3RACHA?” Changbin whines to Jisung, making him stop his actions mid-way, meat hanging from the chopsticks just a few inches away from his mouth. “All I heard the past few weeks was ‘SpearB, help me’, ‘SpearB, go there’. It was torture.”

The table goes silent at the new information Changbin had revealed, and all you can do is smile sheepishly as your friends stare at the both of you.

“These two have been meeting almost everyday the past few weeks to get ramen at weird timings, and I’m pretty sure Y/n has lots of quality dirt on us now,” Changbin says pointedly, completely ignoring the way your eyes widened because why would he just say that?

It already wasn’t easy keeping Changbin in check with his little fantasies every time you went out to meet Chan, and now it was going to be worse because you just knew that the six other boys were going to question you from their expressions.

You turn to look at Chan, expecting to see the same ‘busted’ expression on his face, but all you see is a guilty smile, before he opens his mouth to speak. “In my defense, I was bribed.”

“Yes but, you never told us your 3RACHA names even after we kept begging you for weeks,” Hyunjin speaks up, eyes wide in disbelief. “We had to bribe you with a new game for your console, but you just told Y/n after two packets of ramen and chocolate milk?”

Your heart rate picks up speed just a fraction after hearing Hyunjin’s words, and you can’t help but feel a little special that Chan was comfortable enough to tell you things he refused to tell others. There’s a small smile playing at your lips as you look at the boy beside you, who was now rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he tried his best to defend himself from the accusations that were now pouring out from all his friends.

Unbeknownst to you, your own best friend was watching the both of you since the night started, a glint in his eye as he catches the way you threw small glances at his friend, blushing every time your hands brushed or when Chan purposely picked out the meat that was grilled best to put on your plate.

He also didn’t miss the soft smile playing at Chan’s lips every time you laughed at another stupid joke Jisung cracked, head thrown back slightly as you clutched your stomach, or the way his eyes widened every time you leaned a little too close to him to reach for a side dish.

Fools, is what he thinks when he eyes his two best friends. Fools in love.

The night goes on, and it’s Changbin who proposes a game of who can finish a bottle of soju the fastest to make things more exciting. You already know how it was going to end when you see the soju bottles crowding the table, all screaming the obvious outcome of the night.

“Rule’s simple. We’ll have two people against each other, and the one that loses has to pay their opponent’s share for tonight’s dinner.”

You notice Changbin avoiding your eyes as he speaks and distributes the bottle, which could be attributed to the very scary death glare you were throwing right at him.

Here’s the thing—your alcohol tolerance was shit. And Changbin knew that, making you wonder what he had planned up his sleeve.

“Right, here’s the lineup,” he announces, making it seem as if the lot of you were in some world championship of sorts. “Hyunjin and Jisung”—there’s a loud ‘Die, bitch!’ that resounds from Jisung as they both get ready to win against each other—“Seungmin and Felix, Minho and Jeongin, and Chan and Y/n!”

You were going to kill that idiot.

Changbin starts off the game with a recap of the rules, and makes sure that everyone has their own bottle of alcohol. Disaster is the only word flashing in your mind, and you’re on the verge of ditching your friends to return to the comfort of your room.

“Jisung and Hyunjin first!” Changbin instructs, to which the two boys grab their bottles and have a stare-down with each other.

“I’m gonna win so hard, your ancestors are gonna feel it.”

“Let’s see you try, pretty boy.”

On Changbin’s cue, the two boys start gulping down the alcohol, and you visibly cringe at the ghost feeling of the taste on your tongue.

“Are you okay?” Chan whispers from beside you, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s a stupid game. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

There’s a grateful smile on your face as you shake your head, letting the boy know you were okay. “I’m fine. Just worried because my alcohol tolerance isn’t that good, and I don’t want to inconvenience all of you.”

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” Chan mutters softly, staring right into your eyes. The smile slowly drops from your face as your heartbeat echoes in your ears at his words and the way he was looking at you. You so badly wanted to look away, not being used to such eye contact, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes it almost impossible for you to tear your gaze away from his twinkling eyes.

The sound of a bottle being slammed onto the table snaps you out of your little moment with Chan, and you immediately turn away to look at what was happening at the table, taking deep, cleansing breaths to calm yourself.

On the other side of the table, you realise that Hyunjin was the one who finished his bottle first, now having the time of his life teasing Jisung, who had about one quarter of the bottle left.

All the boys, except Chan and Felix, were laughing their asses off—Felix was the only one comforting Jisung, while Chan was staring at the table, an unreadable expression on his face.

“There, there. It’s okay, Sung,” Felix coos, patting Jisung’s hair, as the latter sulks at his loss.

The next two rounds proceed quickly, with Seungmin and Jeongin emerging as the winners. Everyone stares shell shocked, as Jeongin gulps down the liquid with vigour and speed, and slams his bottle down onto the table with a grin.

“There’s no way! I can’t believe Minho lost to a baby!”

“Just because he’s the youngest doesn’t mean he’s a baby, Changbin.” Seungmin deadpans, swiftly moving the empty bottles to the side of the table. “And how come you’re not participating?”

“Someone needs to bring Y/n back,” Changbin shrugs, passing the bottles to Chan and you with a guilty smile in return to your scowl. “And I’d rather stay sober when taking care of drunk children.”

You turn to pass the bottle to Chan, quickly avoiding his gaze when he looks at you. You’re not confident in your abilities to keep the blush down if he was going to look at you the way he did before.

“Okay,” Changbin cues, making sure both of you were ready with the bottle caps off. “Ready, set… Go!”

You didn’t mind paying for Chan’s share for dinner, you really didn’t. But if there was something about you that was both your downfall and pride, it was your competitiveness. You were competitive to the point where you tended to disregard the consequences of your actions.

So, your brain doesn’t register the painful consequences of your actions as you gulp down the bottle of alcohol like your life depended on it. You weren’t the best drinker out there, but you were going to try your very damn best because it was a competition.

With no expectation of winning, you swallow the last drop of soju and slam the bottle back onto the table, when you realise that everyone was staring at the two of you with their mouths open—specifically at Chan.

Following their gaze, your eyes widen in surprise as you see the boy holding an almost half-full bottle of soju, clearly indicating that you were the winner of your little game.

It’s like a dam breaks, and suddenly everyone’s shouting at the unexpected outcome. Hyunjin and Jisung scream while looking back and forth the bottle and Chan, while Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin sit with wide eyes and open mouths, unable to process that Chan just lost to you.

On the other hand, Changbin watches Chan with a smirk, which slowly drops when he realises that Minho, who was sitting beside him, was staring at him with raised eyebrows, clearly asking the question ‘What the fuck just happened?’.

Just as he’s about to pull Changbin to the side to question him, you shoot up from your seat, stumbling around almost immediately because of the sudden bout of dizziness that hit you. You fall back onto your seat as fast you had gotten up, and Chan wraps an arm around you almost instinctively, making sure you didn’t fall off your seat.

The table is back to having their own conversations a few minutes later, as if they weren't just screaming over your victory, with Hyunjin and Jisung having a rock-paper-scissors tournament between themselves, proposed by Jisung who was still sore about losing to Hyunjin.

Alcohol clouds your mind as your head lols back and forth, with soft giggles spilling from your lips. In your drunken state, you register the arm wrapped around you, and you turn your head to look for the owner of said arm.

Chan looks at you with the fondest smile as he tries to hold back his own chuckles at how cute your giggles were, at the same time being extremely conscious of the way you fit perfectly around his arms. He thanks his lucky stars that you were drunk as he held you, assuring him that there was no way you were going to hear how fast his heart was beating.

“Oh?” you drawl, squinting at the boy beside you. “Who might you be?”

And at that very moment, Chan hopes with all his heart that there is no one else who will get to witness what he was seeing right in front of him.

There are strands of hair covering your face, cheeks red from the alcohol (and from the close proximity to him, but he doesn’t need to know that) and eyes drooping from the oncoming sleepiness. Yet, to him, you were still the most beautiful in that moment.

“I’m Chan,” he replies sweetly, hesitating for a moment before adding more to the sentence. “Your friend.”

An exaggerated gasp escapes you as your eyes widen comically. Words tumble from your mouth, with hiccups disrupting your sentences every now and then. “Chan? Bang Chan? From high school? The really, um-" hiccup "-cute boy who tutored in the library? The super popular dude? You’re my-" hiccup "friend?”

There’s a light pink flush dusting his cheeks at your words, but he laughs nonetheless while nodding, finger reaching out to tap your nose. “Yes, I am.”

Scrunching your nose at the contact, you continue giggling when the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts the little exchange you and Chan were having. Chan turns to face his friends, and immediately starts coughing when he realises that they had been watching the whole scene with amused expressions. He awkwardly retracts his arm from around your waist, only for you to get up and stumble over to where Changbin was sitting, arms reaching out towards him while making grabby hands. “Changbinnnn~”

You plop yourself onto his lap, arms encircling his neck as you pull his ear closer to your mouth. Used to your drunk antics, he concedes, knowing that he’ll end up with more damage if he didn’t listen to you when you were drunk.

When he is close enough, you cup your hands around your mouth and whisper into his ears. At least, you thought you were whispering.

“You have really cute friends, Changbin.”

The whole table erupts into cheers at your words, and you immediately cover your mouth with a horrified expression. “Did everyone hear that?”

“You weren’t very quiet, darling,” Changbin snorts, pulling you up with him as he stands. “How are all of you getting back?”

“We’re all crashing at Felix’s place,” Seungmin speaks up, tapping away on his phone. “The uber’s about to arrive… right now.”

Grabbing their things, everyone except Minho, Chan, Changbin, and you, make their way out of the restaurant, shouting out hurried farewells and promises of ‘I’ll wire the money to you when I get back!’ to Changbin.

“Okay, Minho and I will go settle the bill,” Changbin says, readjusting his grip on you. “Chan, can you look after Y/n for a bit?”

“Sure,” Chan replies, looping your arm around his neck as his snakes around your waist. “We’ll be out at the front.”

The moment Chan leaves their sight with you by his side, Minho turns to bombard Changbin with all the questions that had been bothering him the whole night.

“What was that?” Minho asks in bewilderment, pointing to the door that Chan and you had exited from. “How on earth did Chan lose that game when he’s the best drinker amongst all of us?!”

“It’s called being in love,” Changbin scoffs, shaking his head at his two friends. “Disgusting.”

The distressed look on Minho’s face dissolves, and is replaced by what one could describe as enlightenment. “No fucking way. I was wondering why he kept smiling at them like an idiot. That explains so much! Have they confessed?”

“You think?” Changbin rolls his eyes, knowing that there was no way either of you had the courage to confess first. “The only way either of them will confess is if they are drunk.”

“But Y/n is dru-” Minho starts in confusion, when he stops mid-sentence, realising what Changbin had just done. “You evil genius.”

“What can I say,” Changbin states proudly, brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder. “I wonder what’s going on outside,” he mutters under his breath, staring at the door.

On the other side of the door, Chan finally succeeds in getting you to sit down with him on a curb, his jacket folded neatly under your bottom to make sure that you were not sitting on the hard cement. “I’m tired,” you whine, head dropping onto the warm shoulder beside you.

Chan tenses up at the sudden contact, staring at the top of your head, when you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. At the feeling of your cheek against his shoulder, he relaxes, and positions himself such that you didn’t have to strain your neck.

There’s a comfortable silence between the both of you, until you decide to break it by asking Chan a very obvious question.

“We’re close friends right?”

You lift your head from Chan’s shoulder, almost whining out loud at the loss of comfort, but you decide that asking him that question was more important. Clearly, drunk you had very different priorities.

Chan just nods and replies with a soft “Of course”, wondering why you were suddenly asking that question. “Why?”

“Since we’re close friends, can I tell you a secret?” The last few words are spoken in a hushed whisper, as you reach out and grasp Chan’s soft and warm hands. His larger hands clasps yours, as he chuckles at your question. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/n. You’re drunk, and you might regret telling me when you sober up.”

“No!” You almost shout, alarming Chan who looks around to make sure no one heard your exclamation. You continue in a softer tone, to Chan’s relief. “You’re my close friend! So I won’t regret it.”

And the wide smile you show Chan almost makes him want to kiss you right there and then. Almost.

“Alright then,” Chan agrees, rubbing circles into the skin on your hand. “Go ahead, tell me your secret.”

Giggling, you use your free hand to beckon him closer, your face moving closer to his at the same time. Just as his ear is close enough to you, you whisper out the words that make his heart stop.

“I think I like you.”

He freezes in place, eyes staring at the black tar road ahead of him as his heart hammers against his ribcage because of your nonchalant words. He gulps before slowly turning to face you, the person he had grown to like more than he could ever imagine coming into his view. He takes quick, shallow breaths as he continues to stare at you, unsure of what to say.

Luckily (or unluckily, for Chan), you decide to continue talking, baring your heart and soul to him.

“It’s like...” you start, trailing off after your first two words, before finding the right words to continue. “It’s like I was always happy in life, but you made me realise that it was possible for me to be happier when you are there with me.”

And the smile you give Chan, accompanied with the words you had just uttered, makes him want to protect you from the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he loves you, but what he’s sure about is that all he wants to do is hug you and never let go, to be there for you every minute, every second. And he thinks that’s enough.

That’s enough reason to hold onto you and never let go.

Opening his mouth, Chan is about to reply to your drunk confession, when the sound of soft snores fill his ears.

Leaning against the light pole that was situated very conveniently behind you, you had fallen asleep in the split second Chan had taken to make his move. Your chest rises and falls with every breath you take, and Chan can’t help but breath out a laugh at your timing.

There’s always tomorrow, he thinks.

There’s white noise playing in your ear as you stare up at your ceiling.

Changbin is seated at the edge of your bed saying something important, you assume. You aren’t listening; your brain cells have decided to go on a strike and replay the scene from yesterday on loop.

I think I like you.

You want to scream. You want to scream and murder the boy sitting beside you so bad. After all, it was his fault that you ingested that goddamn devil liquid that made you spill more than your guts.

It was a wonder that you were able to find a friend as precious as Chan, and there you lay in despair, all thoughts of facing Chan again slowly slipping away from your fingertips. There was absolutely no way you were going to be able to see him after the stunt you pulled yesterday.

“Y/n, are you listening?!”

“No.”

A hand wraps around your arm and you feel yourself being pulled up, coming face-to-face with your distressed best friend. “Stop being stubborn. Calm down and listen to what I have to say.”

And that’s when you snap.

“Stubborn!?” you shriek, clutching the ends of your hair. “I just confessed to your friend, Seo Changbin. I was drunk, and I confessed my very large and real crush to the person I am crushing on. I have ruined any chance at friendship with him, so don’t tell me to stop being stubborn and to calm down!”

Taking a deep breath, Changbin pulls you towards him, both his hands resting against your cheeks. “Listen here. Stop being a wuss. Yes, you confessed when you were drunk. Yes, it’s embarrassing as fuck. But get over it. You know Chan. Is he the kind of asshole who drops friendship over small things like rejection?”

There’s a pout playing at your lips as you shake your head, partly due to the way Changbin was squishing your cheeks, and the other half because you knew he was right.

“But I still don’t want to face him yet,” you whine, pushing his hands away from your face and diving back into your covers. “I just want to wallow in self pity, and hopefully waste away on this bed so that I’ll never have to face anyone ever again.”

Changbin knows that there was no convincing you otherwise, so he settles for sighing and getting up from your bed.

“Don’t stay in bed for too long. I’ll order us food for later.”

Muttering something under your breath, you roll over and bury your face into your pillow, sighing as you think about the boy whose smile gave you more warmth than the sun could ever provide.

You’re in the midst of imagining how different today would’ve been if you hadn’t opened your dumb mouth when your phone rings and cuts off your thoughts. Reaching out for it, your mouth runs dry when you see the name displayed on your screen.

“Chan :)”

Your finger presses the decline button and your phone clatters against your bedside table as you decide that you are not ready to talk to Chan yet. And you’re not sure if you’ll ever be ready to talk to him, let alone face him.

A minute after declining the call, there’s a series of knocks on your door, and you shout out a “Go away!”, not wanting to hear anything related to Chan and how you need to stop being a coward. But as the knocking continues, getting louder as time passes, you start getting annoying and realise you have no choice but to open the door.

“What the fuck do you want, Chang-”

You cut yourself off as you take in the person standing in front of you with wide eyes, looking as handsome as ever even with the furious look painted on his face.

The silence is thick with tension, and you can’t help but avert your eyes, choosing to look at anything but the boy in front of you.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Chan asks, voice quiet and flat. “I’ve been calling and texting you all morning.”

“Um, I-” you start, not knowing how to answer his question. You imagined your day going various ways, but this definitely wasn’t in your plans. “Did Changbin call you?”

“I asked,” he starts, walking towards you. You take a few steps a back, and continue walking backwards until your hands come into contact with your dresser. You were trapped. “Why are you ignoring me, Y/n?”

You blink rapidly, not used to this closed-off version of Chan. The usual warmth and softness in his eyes were missing, and instead all you saw was disappointment and anger. You open your mouth to speak, but it wasn’t easy to get the words out.

“Was it funny messing with me?” Chan continues, not breaking eye contact with you once. “To just get my hopes up and disappear like it all meant nothing?”

“W-what?”

“How was it so easy for you to just start ignoring me?”

“No I-”

“Is that all I mean to you?” And instead of the disappointment and anger, you see pure, unfiltered hurt, and that was enough for your walls to come crashing down. Tears well up in your eyes as you look at the boy in front of you, and it’s like a dam breaks.

“I’m sorry.” Sobs wreck your body as you wipe the tears that don’t seem to stop. “I-I’m so fucking sorry, Chan. I was scared.”

“Scared because you just said that in the spur of moment and you don’t actually mean it?”

“No, I was scared because I like you too fucking much!”

There’s a pregnant silence between the two of you, and you continue staring at the floor, vision blur with stubborn tears that refuse to fall. And that’s when you hear it.

A chuckle.

It’s soft, and you would’ve missed it if not for the pin drop silence in the room.

You slowly lift your head up to confirm if you actually heard what you heard, or if you were hallucinating, when you see it.

Chan was smiling.

“Can’t believe it worked.”

What on earth did that mean?

“W-what do you mean?” you ask, sniffing softly.

“This was Changbin’s idea. For the record, I was against it.” Chan’s hands come up to rest on your cheeks, his thumb wiping away the tears on your cheeks as he smiles softly at you. “I mean, of course I was hurt and worried. But I just wanted to come over and talk it over like a normal person.”

His smile widens as one hand continues cupping your face, while the other reaches to tuck the one stray strand of hair behind your ear. “He said you’ll never admit things unless I, uh, scared you a little.

You stare at Chan as the gears work in your head, putting the pieces of information. The moment the last piece clicks in place, you stare in shock at the boy standing in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“What the fuck?!” you yell, equal parts of relief and anger taking over your mind. “I fucking hate you!”

And with that you storm off towards your door, Chan chasing after you with apologies spilling from his mouth. But the both of you knew that you weren’t actually upset, which can be seen by the giggles accompanying every apology.

Just as you’re about to leave your room, you’re pulled back into warm arms, and you fight every urge to melt right into his embrace. His arms wrap around your frame tightly, but gently. You feel his strong heartbeat against your back, and it’s enough to make you shiver, goosebumps erupting all over your skin.

“Do you hate me?” Chan asks, chin resting on your shoulder as you feel his breath tickle your neck.

“Yes.”

“Really?” Chan asks in amusement, lips against your ears and voice just above a whisper. “That’s a pity then. Because I like you too fucking much too.”

He whispers the last part of the sentence, making your knees go weak and your heartbeat pick up its pace as it usually does whenever the boy who stole your heart was involved.

You turn around in his arms to face him, sighing contentedly at how things ended up turning out. “I’m really sorry about the ghosting.”

“It’s okay, love,” Chan assures you, the pet name inducing butterflies in your stomach. “I would’ve been embarrassed too, if I had confessed to you when I was drunk.”

“I would’ve loved to see that.” You whine at the unfortunate circumstance of you confessing instead of Chan. “I probably looked like an idiot while confessing.”

“Since I’m your boyfriend, can I tell you a secret?” Chan teases, repeating what you said the night before with a little twist. Smacking his arm lightly for the jab, you nod with a laugh, ignoring the way your face heats up when he refers to himself as your boyfriend.

“I really wanted to kiss you when you were confessing.” There’s mirth in Chan’s eyes as he gazes at you the same way he did back at the restaurant. The only difference was that you knew he liked you back. And you had never been happier.

“Go for it.”

And that’s all the confirmation that Chan needs to lean down and press his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss, as your hands rest on his chest, appreciating the strong beat his heart was playing.

You part a few seconds later, eyes still closed as a smile plays on both your lips, before you’re pulled for another kiss, this one more forceful than the one before. His lips press against yours harder, and his arms pull you closer—as close as you could be. You respond with equal fervor, pouring every emotion you have into the kiss, when you’re interrupted by a loud cough.

“I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to bleach my eyes every time I see the two of you.”

Oh.

It completely slipped your mind that Changbin was just a few steps away from your room, and you want to crawl under your bed and befriend the monster there when you see the haughty smile on your best friend’s face.

“I think a thanks is in order.”

Removing yourself from Chan’s arms, you walk over to Changbin, who smiles wider when he realises you are walking towards him. Opening his arms to welcome you in for a hug, he can’t help but shriek when you start punching him everywhere possible.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?!”

“That’s what you get for coming up with stupid ideas to get me to talk!” you snap at your best friend with words that carry no real bite. “Were you that desperate?”

“Clearly!” Changbin replies, exasperated. “It was getting depressing. He wouldn’t stop calling me because he was worried, and you were being a stubborn bitch!”

At his words, there’s a tinge of guilt that pinches at you when you realise the trouble you had put your best friend through.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you say with a pout, burying your face into Changbin’s shoulder. “And thank you.”

“Yes yes, you’re welcome,” Changbin says with a soft smile. He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but seeing his best friend who meant the world to him end up with someone who just as much deserved nothing but the best made him eternally grateful. “Now go smooch your boyfriend. We don’t want him becoming too jealous of the attention you’re giving me.”

“Oh, shut up,” is what Changbin gets in return, as Chan intertwines his hand with yours. Just as Changbin walks out of sight back to his room, Chan turns to you with the biggest smile.

“Now then, shall we go on a date to celebrate our first day?”

“Absolutely.”

And as you and Chan sit on the beach that evening, surrounded by sand and accompanied by the sound of the waves and the soft breeze with a orange hue enveloping you, you think:

Life had never been sweeter.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids fluff #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz oneshot #skz x reader #skz fluff #chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan oneshot #dee scribbles

722 notes · View notes

weasleylangs · 3 years

Text

if you don’t know, let me go - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Slytherin!Reader Summary: It’s always seemed like they’ve been dancing the line between friends and more, so why does he take a different girl to the ball? Warnings: Some swearing, pining that one character is too much of a dummy to see, a bit of angst but it eventually becomes fluff I promise, jealousy but nothing toxic, underage drinking but it’s like one line. Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: This is my first fanfiction in literally forever, so any feedback is always appreciated! Requests are open if you like this and want more! Also this got stupidly long fast, I can barely write book reviews on Goodreads without writing a novel so my bad, I’m sorry if you don’t like long fics. (Also cross-posted on AO3 as the tumblr tags don’t seem to be my friend right now.)

- Also, thank you so much to @lumosandnoxwriting for answering all my questions on how to get back into writing!

Send me an ask or a dm if you would like to be added to a tag list!

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

“Do you think he’s going to ask you?”

It’s Wednesday afternoon, late enough for class to be over but too early for dinner and Y/N’s attempt at understanding anything in her potions textbook is broken by Alicia Spinnet talking to her. Despite the fact she hadn’t said a name, Y/N knows immediately who she was talking about and she shrugs in response, closing her book and accepting that studying was not on the table for the rest of the night now the ball has been mentioned.

“Probably not.” She deadpans. Y/N’s been trying not to get her hopes up that Fred would ask her to the Yule Ball since it was announced three days ago. Alicia’s already been asked by George- who immediately did a dramatic reenactment of some muggle proposal he’d seen in a movie as soon as Dumbledore announced it. But Fred had been more reluctant to ask anyone, despite people’s assumption that he could get anyone he pleased. Y/N only hoped this was because he was too shy of taking whatever they were from friends to lovers.

No one really understood how the outspoken and mischievous redhead became friends with the snarky Slytherin girl, but 6 years into their schooling people have stopped questioning it. They had formed an unexplainable bond the second they met on the train to Hogwarts when they were eleven years old that may have included both shouting at blood purists and now it seems to have evolved into something beyond just a friendship.

Lingering stares, soft touches, the fact neither of them had really dated anyone else because they were too caught up with each other. Everyone, including their friends, have all placed bets on how long it’ll take for the two of them to ‘fess up and finally get together.

“What makes you say that?” Alicia asks, genuinely. She’s heard first hand the teasing George and Lee give Fred over his feelings for Y/N in the Gryffindor common room when they think they’re alone so she finds it hard to believe he hasn’t even hinted at them going together yet.

Y/N shrugs. “I just think if he wanted to go with me, he’d ask me by now… Y’know?” Alicia can’t really deny her logic. Fred’s never been the one to shy away from being outspoken about anything really in the whole six years she’s known him, so even she can admit it’s weird that Fred hasn’t asked her.

“Maybe he just assumes you guys are going together?” Alicia starts, and before Y/N can argue back, she holds up a hand, “I’ll ask him after dinner tonight. I can guarantee Lee or George will join in and you’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!” Y/N shakes her head and laughs, and starts packing her things, mumbling about Alicia is a meddler and that she’ll see her later.

Y/N’s walking to the Great Hall for dinner when it happens. Adrian Pucey, star quidditch chaser for the Slytherin team slinks up next to her and scares her enough to almost drop the books she has clutched in her hands. She’s never had a problem with Adrian- their parents are in similar friendship circles so she sees him at family friend events outside of school, but she’s never considered him a friend either, which is why his approach to her is so odd.

“Sorry about that,” he laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets as Y/N clutches her chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she starts, “You’re just very quiet. I’m used to being almost tackled to the ground when I see friends.” She laughs, but she doesn’t miss the awkward tension in the air and she can’t help but assume what’s coming next.

“I just wanted to ask if, uh, if you don’t have a date to the ball… If you’d like to go with me?”

Y/N gulps. She knows she shouldn’t be putting all her eggs in the Fred Weasley marked basket, but she can’t help but remember her conversation with Alicia only an hour ago.

‘You’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!’

Adrian senses her hesitation and lets out a breath that sounds like he’s almost laughing. “You’re waiting for one of Weasley twins to ask you, aren’t you? Fred, right?” She hates how easily he caught on.

“Adrian, I- Ugh, I’m sorry. But yeah… I am.” She feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at someone she’s not even friends with pointing it out. She can’t help but think maybe this is a sign though, that if everyone else is expecting it, why hasn’t he asked her yet?

“No, it’s all good. But the offers on the table if he’s too pussy to ask you out.” He gives a kind smile as he walks off to catch up with Marcus Flint who’s drilling Malfoy about quidditch plays.

She exhales slowly and finally makes it to the Great Hall. She scans the tables looking for her closest friend in Slytherin- Daphne Greengrass and once she finds her, she quickly makes her way over to her. Dinner is relatively uneventful since she’s sitting with her house, and George manages to catch her eye at one point and mouths ‘miss you’ to which she laughs and says she misses him back.

She’s about to get up and leave when the last thing she expects to happen, happens. She hears Ron exclaim loudly that Fred can’t make fun of him for not having a date because he doesn’t have one either. Y/N feels her heart start to race, knowing if anyone’s going to prove a point to Ron, it’ll be Fred Weasley. She doesn’t hear what Fred’s reply is but Harry and Ron both scoff, and one of them says ‘ask a girl out if it’s so easy then.’

Y/N’s about to approach the Gryffindor table when George’s eye catches her, and he shakes his head. Fred has already thrown a scrunched-up piece of paper at Angelina and her heart sinks.

“Angelina! Will you go to the ball with me?”

As Angelina laughs and says yes to Fred, it feels like the whole Great Hall is either watching their altercation or watching Y/N in pity. Her heart now feels like it’s in her throat, and she needs to get out of the room before she cries or yells at Fred. She pivots on her heel and is met face-to-face with Daphne, who nods in silent agreement that they’re going back to their dorm.

Y/N is halfway down the long tables with the door in her sights when she spots Adrian out of the peripheral of her eye. She can tell he’s looking at her in pity and in a weird way, she feels the need to show defiance against Fred Weasley. She needs to show she doesn’t need pity, especially right now, that she can get a date herself. So she stops in front of the Slytherin quidditch team and slightly smirks.

“That offer to the ball still on the table?”

Daphne spends the night taking Y/N’s mind off the Weasley family. They sit in their dorm together, once again trying to study for potions which eventually leads into ball talk yet again. Daphne can tell the idea of going to the ball with anyone who isn't Fred is unnerving for Y/N, but there’s no backing down now.

“That was kind of a badass move, y’know?” She starts, treading lightly as they eventually reach the elephant in the room, ‘Asking Adrian after what happened.”

It doesn’t feel badass to Y/N. She feels like she’s cheating on the redhead that owns her heart, but she knows that’s ridiculous. Fred clearly has no form of feelings for her and she’s decided to get over him.

“It’s nothing…” She starts and she sees Daphne’s eyebrows raise. They’ve been roommates every year since they started school together so they’re both aware this is a big lie. “I didn’t want to go alone. Everyone else had dates already and Adrian’s nice. Plus, he did ask me before…”

Daphne nods, not wanting to press further. “Have you got a dress yet?” It had said on their packing list for the school year to bring a dress or dress robes so everyone’s already well prepared. Y/N nods and walks towards the closet before pulling out a floor-length silver gown with lace detailing. She smiles shyly as Daphne gasps in awe.

“Eat your heart out, Fred Weasley!” For the first time all night, Y/N laughs. She knows she’s going to look stunning in the dress and while she has no ill resentment towards Angelina for agreeing to go with Fred, she can’t help but feel a little bit coy knowing Fred’s going to see her in it.

She’s sitting at her desk in Transfiguration the next day when he finally acknowledges her presence. She’s twiddling her quill in her fingers, dreading the moment the troublemaker waltzes into the class. His usual seat is the one next to her, while George and Lee sit in front of them but she can only hope Alicia takes the hint and sits with her before Fred does.

She doesn’t get her wish. She’s about two seconds away from dozing off when the seat screeches against the hardwood flooring below them and she looks to her left to see Fred smirking.

“Hi love,'' he starts, the nickname not feeling out of ordinary, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He says, and it’s true. He hadn’t seen her since class yesterday. He had looked for her before dinner to tell her about the prank he’d pulled on Filch with George while she was studying and he’d barely seen her during dinner.

Her heart starts to speed up at the nickname, and she forces down the bile she feels growing in her throat. “Yeah, I just ate dinner and went to bed yesterday. Been studying for potions. Sixth year is hard.” She’s trying to be short and sweet and maybe a little blunt but Fred doesn’t pick up on it. “Heard you asked Angelina to the ball too.” She’s hoping to whoever’s listening to her prayers that the jealousy isn’t evident in her voice and by the dopey smile that grows on Fred’s face, her prayers were answered.

“Yeah! Ron was being such a prat, telling me I couldn’t make fun of him for…” But she drowns his voice out. It might be a bitch move, but she really doesn’t need to hear the who, where, when and why he asked Angelina out. It’s clear to Y/N that Fred didn’t even notice her existence at dinner and that stings more than she’d like to admit.

She can barely concentrate during class. Fred has never really shown to care about any academic success, so he spends the entire period trying to entertain Y/N and get her to speak to him but she’s being stubborn and Fred can’t help but wonder what he did wrong. He starts to think maybe she’s just had a bad day, but when the bell rings and she storms off without even saying goodbye to him he’s dumbfounded.

“Trouble in paradise, brother?” George teases when he sees the frown adorned on Fred’s face.

“Have I done anything to upset Y/N?” He questions and he sees the way George and Lee both give each other a look. They know something he doesn’t and that leaves a feeling of uneasiness in his chest. Y/N and himself have always been closer than her and George and especially her and Lee. He was there for her when her parents were fighting constantly when she was 11 and when Marcus Flint started bullying her in 3rd year. He was even there when she cried to him last year about the guy she loved and how he was so stupidly blind to her feelings and while she didn’t give a name, Fred was dying to go punch whoever it was for not realising he had his best friend’s heart.

“If you have, it’s not up for us to tell you, mate.” Lee states and he hides behind George when he notices the scowl on Fred’s face. Lee knows better than to get between him and Y/N, but he isn’t wrong.

“Look, Alicia said she was fine when they left the library yesterday evening,” George starts, and he knows he shouldn’t be lying to his brother and best friend, but it’s not a huge lie, and maybe it’ll push his oblivious brother to realise what he did to upset his best friend, “She was at dinner last night when you asked Angie to the ball and then she went to her dorm with Daphne. Heard something about her saying yes to Adrian Pucey asking her to the ball…” While George made extra emphasis on the fact Y/N witnessed Fred asking Angelina to the ball, Fred’s eyes glaze over in rage when George mentions Adrian and he has a feeling his twin has got the wrong idea.

“I bet Adrian did something to her. Fuck him, honestly.” And before George and Lee can stop him, Fred’s stalking out of the classroom with Adrian Pucey in his sights.

Fred doesn’t find Adrian until later that afternoon, standing on the pitch and clad in his quidditch robes, yelling at someone who Fred assumes is Montague. He thinks now is probably a bad time to confront him, but he's blinded by the thought that he’s hurt Y/N.

“Pucey!” He shouts and when Adrian turns around, he chuckles and smirks at Fred. He was expected this later rather than sooner, specifically during dinner, but he guesses now will have to do.

“What?” He asks, but they both know why he’s here and he’s just enjoying riling Fred up.

“What did you do Y/N?” Adrian scoffs at this and shakes his head which confuses Fred. “What did I do to Y/N?” Fred stands his ground, chest puffed up. Adrian might be a fair bit shorter than Fred but Adrian hasn’t got anything to be scared of. Sure he’s seen Fred throw a punch or two and he’s definitely been on the receiving end of a bludger from the Weasley during a game, but he knows he isn’t the one that hurt Y/N here.

“I think you should be asking yourself that, mate. Y/N only agreed to going to the ball with me after you asked Angelina out right in front of her.” This causes Fred to look at Adrian in confusion and Adrian laughs at Fred again. He’s confused, why would asking Angelina out hurt Y/N?

It turns out he said that out loud, because two seconds later Adrian is responding to him, “Because she was expecting you to ask her, Weasley.”

Adrian doesn’t even wait for Fred’s reply before stalking off to the Slytherin change rooms and Fred’s left standing on the pitch, wondering why the ache in his chest is almost debilitating at the thought of hurting Y/N and questioning why he feels the need to throw up knowing she’s happily going with Adrian Pucey.

Fred’s next port of call is finding Y/N. After his talk with Adrian, he needs to find out why she expected him to ask her to the ball. He would’ve happily gone with her, but to Fred, she hadn’t even dropped a single hint at wanting to go with him and when she’s finally located, she’s in the library with Daphne.

“This is my exit cue,” Daphne mutters as she notices the redhead roaming around the library looking for Y/N. She doesn’t even have a moment to question Daphne before the seat in front of her is suddenly occupied by the last person she was hoping to see again.

“Why are you going with Pucey?” Is the first thing that leaves Fred’s mouth, and it wasn’t what Y/N was expecting. She splutters, only for a few seconds, before eventually replying.

“He asked me.”

Fred’s eyebrows furrow, but didn’t Pucey say she wanted to go with him? “A little birdie said you wanted to go with me. So, how come you’re going with him.”

Now Y/N scoffs and Fred can’t help but notice how many people are scoffing at him today just for asking questions and it’s getting annoying. “You didn’t ask me. He did. So, I said yes. Don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.” She’s intentionally being short, hopefully not spilling anything about her feelings for the boy in front of her.

“I didn’t know you wanted to go with me, Y/N. How was I supposed to know?” At this, Y/N goes from feeling hurt to angry and she can’t explain why her hands start to shake.

“How were you supposed to know?” She exclaims loudly which causes her to receive a rather nasty ‘sh’ from Madam Pince and a few O.W.L students surrounding her.

“Have you seen the way we act around each other Fred?” She’s now whisper yelling and the confused look on Fred’s face as she says this just aggravates her further and she’s convinced no one is this daft and he’s pushing her buttons on purpose. “Because everyone thinks we’re fucking dating already, Fred. You have to constantly be touching me, we’re always together, you call me darling and love and you kiss me on the forehead when I fucking bring you sugar quills from Hogsmeade because they’re your favourite and whenever you have spare money you always buy me Honeydukes chocolate because you said you like seeing me blush when you buy me things. You’re telling me now that we’re just friends?”

If the ache in Fred’s chest was almost debilitating on the quidditch pitch earlier, right now it feels like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. Her cheeks are flushed, her fists are clenched, pieces of her hair are falling out of her bun that’s resting on top of her head and, worst of all, Fred’s noticed the tears of anger and frustration pooling in her eyes.

She sighs before continuing, trying to compose herself so he doesn’t see her crying over him, unaware he’s already noticed the tears threatening to fall. Her voice is sad and broken, and it feels like the ending point for her.

“I was just stupid enough to assume this year was the year we would finally admit we’re more than friends, Freddie. But I guess all this time it’s been one-sided. I hope you have a good time at the ball with Angelina.”

Fred grabs her wrist as she starts to pack up her things and looks at her, scanning her face for any form of emotion. “Let me go, Fred.” She looks at him with pleading eyes and he lets go of the grasp he has on her wrist.

Fred doesn’t try to stop her again as she hastily packs up her things and he sadly watches her leave the library without turning to look at him.

Y/N doesn’t care if it’s considered dramatic, but she lays in bed and cries for the rest of the day. While she hasn’t gone through a literal break-up, it feels like her friendship with Fred is over. At least, she’s decided, it’s over until she gets over her feelings for him.

Daphne tries everything in her power to comfort her. She rubs her back, plays with her hair and even puts on ABBA to try and get Y/N to dance just to cheer her up. Y/N feels horrible she’s basically conned Daphne into babysitting her breakdown but Daphne constantly reassures her it’s okay.

“Do you want me to go beat him up? I might be short and weak and he’s the size of a tree but I could take him.” Y/N sniffles a laugh at this, and smiles. She’s truly grateful for everything Daphne’s been doing for her and she makes a mental note to get her an extra special Christmas present next time she goes to Hogsmeade.

However, it turns out essentially ending the friendship with Fred ends her friendships with most of the Gryffindors. She was expecting this, but when George can’t even meet her eye in class her heart breaks into even smaller pieces. George has always been like a brother to her, someone she could tell anything too without worry of being judged. He was the first person she told when she realised she liked Fred and Y/N was the first person, besides Fred, that George told his feelings for Alicia for.

Y/N feels alone but she’s stubborn so she refuses to show it. She sits with Daphne in every class, essentially kicking poor Cassius Warrington who’s been pining after Daphne for 3 years into a different spot in class and she sometimes even sits with Adrian during lunch. It turns out they have a lot more in common than just the fact they’re in Slytherin and pure-bloods and Y/N’s pain in her chest is slowly but surely disappearing.

While her feelings for Fred still exist, her heart slowly feels like it’s being mended. It’s only when she spots Fred sulking during lunch one day that the ache returns. She was usually the one who he went too when feeling bad- him being too embarrassed to go to George. She hopes he’s okay, but she shakes the idea of approaching him, knowing he’s got Angelina to keep him company. The pang in her chest stays a little bit longer that day.

The Yule Ball arrives quicker than expected and Y/N and Daphne spend all day getting ready with a bunch of other Slytherin students. It’s nice, while they don’t all usually get along, the house loyalty between them is unmistakable.

Most of them are acutely aware of Y/N’s ‘Weasley Situation’ and while some of them give her pity looks, most of the younger girls have expressed their jealousy that she’s going with Adrian. This makes her laugh and shake her head and she often replies that boys aren’t all that and no boy is worth being jealous over. She feels like a wise mother almost, never wanting them to feel the way she’s felt the past few weeks.

Daphne and Y/N arrive at the Great Hall together, giggling about how bad Y/N is at walking in heels and placing bets on how quick they’re going to come off. While Daphne is counting her galleons in her purse to confirm the bet, Y/N catches a glimpse of Fred and Angelina. He looks so handsome, his dress robes a mixture of gold and black and she can’t help but think how well they’d go together. But when she looks at Angelina she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Angelina is stunning, and there’s no doubt about it. She’s in a floor-length dark purple gown that compliments her skin perfectly and Y/N thinks if Fred was going with anyone to the ball, she’s glad it’s Angelina.

Cassius and Adrian soon appear by the girls and take their arms into the Great Hall that’s been transformed to look like a winter wonderland. The roof tonight is bewitched to look like a winter, snowy day and Y/N can’t help but admire it. She’s grown up with magic her entire life, but she can’t help but constantly be amazed.

Adrian pulls a flask out of his dress robes jacket which makes Y/N snort and he smiles happily at her. Of course he snuck Firewhiskey into the Ball. The action reminds her of something Fred would do and she shakes her head, trying to get the boy out of her mind, tonight of all nights.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” Adrian states as he takes a swig of the flask, and she feels her cheeks heat up. She can hear the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t scrub up so badly either, Pucey.”

“A dance, m’lady?” He jokingly bows to Y/N and she smiles while she takes his hand and he leads her to the dance floor. As Adrian twirls Y/N around the dance floor, albeit messily because neither of them paid attention in dance classes held by Snape of all people, she forgets about the redhead who’s stare is burning holes into the back of her head.

“You’re a shit date, y’know.” Angelina laughs and Fred’s broken out of his trance. “Shit, Angie, I’m so sorry.”

Angelina isn’t wrong. She’s a smart girl, and she’s well aware of Fred’s longing stares towards the Slytherin girl. “Did you know? That you wanted to go with her?” Angelina questions, out of sheer curiosity. Even she was shocked when Fred asked her, but she was too dumbfounded when he asked and with everyone watching at dinner, the pressure to say yes was immense but it was not worth all the pain and heartache she’s watched her two friends go through.

“At the time? No, definitely not. She’s…” He trails off as he tries to find the right words, “She’s always been there, y’know? I just assumed she’d be in my life forever and what we had was what we’d always be… It felt normal, like I didn’t feel the way I feel about her with you, or Katie or Alicia but it felt like that’s how you’re meant to feel about your girl best friend?”

He looks over at them again, and the gross feeling of jealousy rises in his throat. “But then she said yes to Pucey, and all I can think about is how no one should be holding her but me and that he'll walk her all the way back to her dorm tonight and probably kiss her and I feel like throwing up, and...” He pauses and looks at Angelina and the pity in her eyes is obvious. “And you don’t think about your best friend like this.”

Angelina watches in pity as Fred clearly drowns his sorrows in pumpkin juice and she drags him onto the dance floor. She’s not letting Fred have a bad night and she refuses to have one as well. Fred is one of her best friends, and even though she might not be the girl he wishes he was here with, she’s determined to cheer him up somehow.

Fred finally starts to have a good time when he spots George slyly leading Alicia out of the Great Hall and he loudly wolf whistles causing a red hue to form on both their cheeks and George to flip Fred the bird as they leave. Angelina spots Y/N grab her purse across the room while Fred’s distracted and she quietly leaves just after George and Alicia.

Alone.

“Y/N just left, Fred. Alone.” Fred’s confused why Angelina is telling him this when he looks over at Daphne and Adrian, who both look at him like ‘Go you fucking idiot’ and before he can even mutter a goodbye to his friends, he’s out the door almost as fast as George was.

He finds Y/N sitting on a bench in the courtyard. She’s looking up at the stars and Fred stars to recall last summer when she visited The Burrow. She spent all night trying to point out constellations to Fred and as he watches her mutter to herself, Fred wonders how he didn’t realise that they were in love this entire time.

He clears his throat, careful not to startle Y/N and when she turns Fred can see the hesitation in her face as she quickly goes to jump up and leave.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have stolen the prime make-out spot of the night.” She awkwardly laughs but then quickly realises Fred is alone. “Nevermind… Where’s Angelina?”

Fred shrugs, and sits down on the bench she was sitting on originally. Y/N stands awkwardly before sitting down next to him. As much as she hates to admit it, she’s missed being close to him. The warmth that radiates off him despite it being the middle of winter causes her to shuffle just that slightly bit closer to him and Fred can’t help but smile.

“You look beautiful tonight. I know Adrian probably told you already, at least I hope he did, but you deserve to know.” Fred could feel himself rambling and he doesn’t miss the blush that rises across Y/N’s neck and cheeks. It’s the exact same blush that appears whenever he buys her chocolates and his heart soars.

“Thanks Freddie,” the nickname feels foreign on her tongue, “you look pretty handsome yourself. I hope Angelina told you.” She retaliates and Fred hates it. He hates the awkwardness between them. He wants nothing more to wrap his arms around her and hold her close but they feel like strangers.

“Thanks,” he laughs and Y/N looks at him confused. “Did you have a good night?”

“Can we not have this awkward small talk? I’m sure Angelina’s waiting for you somewhere.” Fred’s taken aback by her abruptness and stares at her for a few seconds. “What?” She asks when she notices Fred looking at her like she has nine heads.

“Angelina’s not waiting for me. Is Adrian waiting for you?” He asks but he doesn’t want to know the answer. He’s gone through a rollercoaster of emotions these past few weeks and he truly doesn’t want to know if another man is waiting for her to sweep her off her feet and walk back to the Slytherin common room. But when she shakes her head, Fred lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“I need to apologise.” He blurts out and Fred wants to smack himself in the head. This was not the romantic moment he had envisioned in his head as he followed her outside into the courtyard. “I need to apologise for a lot of things. Mostly, for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am, and also for not asking you to the ball and for ruining our friend-”

“You didn’t ruin our friendship.” She cuts him off but she doesn’t know what else to say. “You didn’t. I did, if anything.” Fred has to stop himself from starting an argument on who ruined the friendship but he wants to backtrack. Did Y/N just ignore him confessing his love to her?

“Well, I’m still sorry for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am?” He tries again sheepishly and Y/N gives him a double-take. She heard him the first time but she was convinced it was just her ears playing tricks on her or Fred being a menace. After all, this is Fred Weasley in front of her, he’s always looking for a joke and as she’s about to accuse him of pulling a sick, twisted prank on her, she looks at him properly.

And he’s looking as serious as he did the day he told her he plans to open a joke shop with George after they graduate.

“You’re in love with me?” She asks quietly and her heart is racing again. She thinks back to the day she accidentally confessed to Fred and how she’s spent the last few weeks trying to fall out of love with him just for him to admit he’s fallen in love with her. “Fred, if this is some sick and twisted joke I will never forgive you.”

Fred almost looks hurt at this, that she thinks he’s capable of something that cruel. So instead of speaking, he softly cups her face in both his hands and runs his thumbs across her cheekbones in a loving manner. He looks her directly in the eyes and Y/N doesn’t think she’s breathed in the last 30 seconds.

She’s been craving being this close to Fred for as long as she can remember. Their lingering touches were never this intimate and right now, she feels like she can look into Fred’s eyes and see into his core, his soul. And he can do the same to her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, and Y/N gasps before nodding, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips against hers.

As he leans in his eyes flutter close, as do her’s. Y/N hasn’t kissed a lot of people in her life, but nothing could ever compare to the way she feels right now. The love and adoration Fred is pouring into this kiss almost brings tears to her eyes and she can only hope he can feel the love and adoration she has for him back.

Their lips move in perfect synchrony, neither of them pushing each other too far, but when Y/N drags her fingers through Fred’s hair and he lets out a groan, she can’t help but pull away and giggle.

“I’ve missed hearing you laugh.” Fred’s arms are now wrapped around her middle and he’s leaning down to press his forehead against hers. Now he has her in his arms, he’s never letting her go.

“I’ve missed having you make me laugh, Freddie.” She says sincerely and it’s Fred’s turn to blush. He knows they need to eventually leave their little bubble of happiness they finally have but he doesn’t want too. But he knows they need to talk about what happened, about them, what they are and Fred so desperately hopes this means Y/N is his.

She senses Fred’s thinking and she looks up at him, doe-eyed and innocent and Fred’s heart melts.

“Stop overthinking.” She mutters, running her hand through his long hair again and Fred almost looks like a cat purring as he feels her fingernails rake across his scalp and he leans into her touch. “Can’t help it. Don’t want to lose you again.”

Her heart pounds, this is all she’s ever wanted to hear and now she wants to hear it every single day. So she tells him exactly that.

“I’m yours, Freddie. As long as you’re mine? If you don’t know what you want it’s okay, I promise we can take it slow-” Fred cuts her off, laughing as he kisses her again and he feels how warm Y/N’s cheeks are, as she blushes over Fred silencing her with a kiss. When he pulls back, her face is flush, her hair is falling out of her bun. It reminds Fred of that day in the library, except this time, the happiness in her face is unmistakably there, and finally he’s the cause of it.

“Of course, I’m yours, darling. I’m never letting you go.”

Late the next morning, when Y/N is trying her best to sneak out of the Gryffindor sixth year boys dormitory with a dark purple hickey adorning her neck, she spots three 4th years whose names she doesn’t even know, giving Ron Weasley five galleons.

Ron sees her, and smirks. “My bet was at the ball. Thanks, Y/N, you and Freddie boy have made me a very rich man.”

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

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x reader

589 notes · View notes

hysteriium · 3 years

Text

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them.

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think.

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader.

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence.

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief.

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice.

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–”

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running.

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper.

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.”

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he?

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” he smirked, petting your head.

Curse his height.

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?”

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.”

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.”

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath.

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?”

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars.

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!”

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well…

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it.

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word–

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you.

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first.

“Will this make you, uh, happy?”

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?”

“My being with you.”

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’.

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted.

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm.

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion.

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–”

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks.

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning.

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling.

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady.

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips.

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold.

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk.

“Peach,” he cooed.

You were going to have to reapply later.

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself.

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him.

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!”

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with.

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work.

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.”

“Hmm,” he trailed off.

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green.

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!”

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed.

“All done!”

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.”

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention.

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.”

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.”

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.”

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach.

It would have to do, though.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He stood up now, towering over you.

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips.

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact.

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“What are you–”

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed.

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring.

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days.

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving.

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting.

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust.

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.”

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.”

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him.

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly.

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago.

You fought the urge to run.

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath.

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand.

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?”

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–”

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.”

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out.

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision.

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology.

Your stomach turned.

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm.

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt.

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him.

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset.

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier.

Pee-yew.

Everyone here sucked.

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her.

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement.

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.”

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?”

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear:

I’m new to this.

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation.

Something had changed.

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him.

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response.

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain.

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment.

“So what? What are you doing?”

“What does it – ah – look like?”

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away.

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo.

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but.

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right.

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it.

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles.

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt.

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash.

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean.

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that.

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good.

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you.

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth.

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.”

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade.

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.”

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.”

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.”

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth.

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation.

Yeesh.

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming.

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here.

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom.

He smacked his lips.

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse.

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?”

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side.

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye.

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her.

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation.

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?”

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?”

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing.

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer.

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut.

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance.

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed.

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms.

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.”

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly.

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again.

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.”

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected.

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–”

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic.

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness.

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady.

“Mine,” you whispered.

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete.

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand.

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song.

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice.

334 notes · View notes

wonwooslibrary · 3 years

Text

Stay Forever

pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader (told in third person)

genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage!au

word count: 2587

warnings: there are no warnings, but there is a small sword fighting scene - nothing graphic though!

author’s note: i have been planning this and stressing over this for so long, it feels great to finally post it! this is written for @ficscafe ’s royalty au drabble event! thank you @cha-lan for beta reading & editing (and writing the chan part towards the end) for me (ily lannie & this is for you!! <3), along with @minghaofilm for editing and @sanshiine for beta reading!! (thank you all so much!!)

this is based heavily off of “17″ by Pink Sweat$ ft. Joshua & DK of SEVENTEEN. The title is also from that song. You can find the whole playlist for this drabble HERE.

The throne room was large. The golden trim seemingly glowed around the ceilings, and the red velvet curtains blocked out the blinding sun from being too overbearing on one’s eyes. In the back of the room on a higher platform were two thrones: the one on the left was larger than the one on the right, and was adorned with more embellishments carved into its golden-stained wood.

Sitting in the larger throne was an older man in his early nineties; a shiny crown sat lightly on his white hair, gleaming in the sun. Next to him on the smaller throne was a woman about the same age—her hair pulled back and out of her face, the crown on her head sparkling. Sitting in the woman’s lap were two small children, both slightly above the age of ten.

The man beamed at the children, his smile bright and full of love. “Do you want to hear a story?”

The children giggled, their loud, high-pitched voices echoing off of the walls and throughout the room. “Yes, please, Grandpa! Tell us a story!”

"Well, it all started when your Grandmother and I were very young," the man began. "Before your grandmother and I met, she was living in a faraway place with your Uncle Junnie."

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════ ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

The first thing Seokmin noticed about sitting at the round table in the conference room was the uncomfortable surface he was forced to perch on. You'd think as a prince living in a palace that he'd get to sit on something softer or more comfortable, but no, the King had to make him sit on the same uncomfortable wooden chairs for hours, pretending to listen to any of the information that was being said to him.

"Seokmin? Are you even paying attention to what we are talking about?"

Seokmin snapped out of his daydream and lifted his head off of his palm to look up at his father.

“Oh! Um, yeah—yes. Of course, I’m paying attention.”

The King rolled his eyes but continued to catch Seokmin up to speed with the conversation.

“So, as you know, the Queen of Shenzhen—along with her son and daughter—are going to be visiting soon,” the King explained. “We are going to hold a ball when they get here. It will be used to announce a wedding.”

The Prince looked over at his father, tilted his head slightly to the left and raised his brow. “A wedding? For who?”

His father coughed slightly and glared at the younger boy, "You and the princess, of course."

With that, the King stood up and walked out, leaving his middle son to sit in the still uncomfortable chair of the conference room, staring off into space.

Hours later, Seokmin was found in his older brother's bedroom. Most of Jihoon's belongings were not in the palace anymore but in the neighboring Kingdom's, leaving the room to look as if Jihoon didn’t live there for almost twenty years.

As Jihoon was unpacking some of the clothes he brought for his stay, Seokmin and their youngest brother, Chan, sat on his bed.

The youngest patted his hand on Seokmin’s knee, “When did father say you were getting married?”

“In, like, four days! I haven’t even met the princess yet!”

Jihoon sighed, “I can’t believe he’s doing this again.”

Seokmin rolled his eyes, “Tell me about it. It made sense for the eldest sibling to go through an arranged marriage, not that any of us liked putting you through that, but why me too?”

“It’s probably because Father wants someone to be in charge here after he’s gone, and it obviously can’t be hyung if he’s living in another kingdom,” Chan looked over at Seokmin. “And I am way too young to get married–”

“When do the prince and princess arrive?” Jihoon interrupted his youngest brother.

“Tomorrow. The Queen is arriving the day before the wedding. Father says that gives us time to get acquainted with them.”

Jihoon turned around and moved his gaze from the closet he was putting clothes into and to his brothers’ faces. “It can’t be that bad to at least meet them, Seok.”

“I just don’t want to get married, hyung. I don’t know this person, and I’m only nineteen!”

“It’ll get better, hyung,” Chan started. “I mean, they can’t force you to get married.”

Seokmin opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a knock on the large, wooden doors of the bedroom.

“It must be time for dinner, let’s go,” Jihoon told his brothers, setting the clothes hanger that was in his hand down onto the bed, and walked towards the door.

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════ ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

“So?” the youngest of the two kids questioned the older man. “Did the prince ever meet the princess?”

“Of course he did!” The man exaggerated his words for the children’s entertainment.

“Tell us that story, Grandma!”

“Okay, Okay. When the princess met the prince, she was very—how do I say this?—surprised.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════ ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

On the day the Queen’s children arrived, Seokmin was pleased to have met the prince, Junhui, before he met the princess. The two bonded fairly quickly over their enjoyment of sports: Seokmin with sword fighting and Junhui with martial arts.

Seokmin had offered to show Junhui around the palace, their last stop being the training grounds where Junhui suggested that Seokmin teach him some sword fighting.

Seokmin quickly agreed, taking Junhui to the armory to get proper protective equipment and swords. They spent most of their time outside on the battleground, swords in hand and padded gear covering their bodies. The blazing sun made Seokmin start to sweat the more he moved to practice attacking his dueling partner.

He had easily disarmed Junhui, the elder’s inexperience in the sport evident; Seokmin took his sword and used it against his opponent. One sword in the prince's left hand, the blade behind Junhui’s neck, and the one in his right hand pointed towards his rival's chest; the edge only centimeters away from his protective gear. Seokmin smirked at Junhui's scared expression and lowered the weapons, holding his left hand out for his opponent to take his sword back.

Suddenly, the sound of clapping echoed around him, forcing Seokmin to look around his surroundings. His eyes focussed on a woman, no older than nineteen, who was applauding almost sarcastically at the display of Seokmin’s skill.

He slid his sword back into the sheath that was slung over his shoulder, the blade resting on his back. With long strides, he walked away from the battleground and towards the woman, only stopping when he was a few feet away from her, a dazzling smile on his face.

Seokmin bowed, “What can I do for you, miss?”

“Oh, today is my first day here. I was just exploring. The other people seem to gravitate towards you, you know.”

Seokmin chuckled. “Being a prince—specifically one who knows their way with a weapon—does that to you.”

The woman’s eyes widened a bit. “You wouldn’t happen to be Seokmin, would you, Your Highness?”

“I am. Were you expecting one of my brothers instead?”

“Um, not exactly,” she began. “I’m Y/N. Princess Y/N, from Shenzhen.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════ ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

The night following Y/N and Junhui’s arrival at the palace was a ball. His father had encouraged him to host some type of gathering to announce the wedding, and at this point, there was nothing Seokmin could really do besides agree.

He had only spoken with the princess a few times; her calm and collected voice intimidated Seokmin a bit, not that he would admit to that. When introducing themselves at dinner later the night they met, she had expressed her love of sword fighting: it one of the main reasons that the battleground was the first place she explored when she arrived. Seokmin had wondered why he had never met the princess earlier in his life, especially since they both shared this hobby.

Seokmin's mother made it clear—he was supposed to dance with Y/N for most of the night. The strict woman also made sure to make it very clear:

"Do not, and I mean do not try to sneak out as your brother did. You know exactly how your father reacted to that, and we do not want to see that again."

Of course, Seokmin rolled his eyes at that. He was not making any promises.

Though, when it was time to get ready for the ball, Seokmin started to become impatient. He, surprisingly, was excited to see the princess again. He had never had someone that truly had the same love for sword fighting as he did, besides the generals and other soldiers—such as his close friend, Joshua. He couldn’t wait to talk to the princess about their mutual love of the sport.

While Seokmin was getting ready for the ball in his bedroom—with the help of his best friends, Soonyoung and Seungkwan, of course—Y/N was on the other side of the castle, Seokmin’s mother helping her with her ball gown.

The dress was beautiful; the light reflected off the golden fabric and made the small sequins on the lace sleeves sparkle. The bodice of the gown was fairly plain, the off-the-shoulder neckline showing off the golden necklace that Y/N wore. The skirt of the dress, however, was the most beautiful part of the outfit. With a slim silhouette only going out a few inches around Y/N’s feet, the skirt's fabric floated slightly above the floor.

When looking at herself in the mirror, Y/N had not failed to tell the Queen about how much she loved the dress her future mother-in-law had picked out for her.

“Even the fabric shines in the sun,” Y/N had told the Queen. “It’s beautiful!”

The Queen was not going to argue with the princess.

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════ ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

The ballroom of the castle was similar to many of its other rooms. The golden trim near the ceilings glowed, and the red velvet curtains blocked the sun from reaching the room. The colorful mural on the ceiling encouraged guests to look up and admire all the small details.

Along the middle of the ceiling were three large crystal chandeliers, illuminating the room with a glow. Towards the left side of the room was a grand staircase, comparable to something out of a fairytale. The marble flooring matched the marble stairs; the steps led to a balcony that circled above the main level of the room. On the right side of the room on the platform were three thrones. They were smaller compared to the ones found in the throne room but just as elegant. Connected to the stairs was a hallway leading deeper into the castle on the next floor.

The room was crowding up fast; different people from all over the kingdom arrived at the ball to hear the surprise that the prince had planned to announce. Everywhere Seokmin looked, he saw fancy gowns and hands holding champagne flutes.

For the next while, Seokmin continued to stand at the side of the room close to the exit, greeting people as they walked in. He recognized some of the people as council members with which he and the King would have meetings. Others he recognized as villagers from the many outings he had taken to the outdoor markets deeper in the kingdom.

As he was greeting people, he began to wonder, “Where is the princess?”

Though, all of a sudden—

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════ ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

“Did the prince see the princess wearing her big ball gown and—oh! Was the princess wearing glass slippers? Was she, Grandpa? Was she? Was she?!” the older of the two children began to tug on the man’s sleeve, demanding an answer that was enough to satisfy the child’s ever-growing imagination.

“Yes, sweetheart. The prince did, in fact, see the princess standing at the top of those marble stairs. I don’t know about the glass slippers, though.”

“I can promise you I would never wear glass slippers to a ball. It may have worked in fairytales, but I would have tripped over that dress so quickly,” the woman sat next to the white-haired Seokmin spoke up, patting his arm to interrupt him from continuing the story.

“What about the rest of the ball?” the other child asked. “Did the prince dance with the princess?”

“Oh, of course, he did. The prince couldn’t leave someone as beautiful as the princess waiting.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════ ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

As Y/N walked closer to Seokmin, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When she was only a few feet away from him, she smiled. Seokmin held his hand out to her, and she took it, coming closer to him. He moved his hands to Y/N’s waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, careful to not accidentally hit his crown.

“Good evening, Princess,” Seokmin’s eyes morphed into crescents as the sides of his mouth lifted. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Y/N laughed, “Thank you, Your Highness. Her Majesty helped me with it.”

“Mother. What can’t that woman do?”

As the music started to get heavier, Prince Chan yelped out from across the room. Seokmin and Y/N glanced in his direction, only to see the youngest brother hopping with his foot in his hand, face morphed with pain.

“I’m sorry!” another young guest exclaimed, her hands held out to try to stabilize the boy.

“Have I ever mentioned how glad I am that you don’t step on my feet while we dance?”

“Don’t push your luck, Your Highness," Y/N giggled, a sudden sly smirk upon her lips. "You never know what could happen.”

Seokmin and Y/N proceeded to glide across the marble floors; their conversation continued all while the prince's heart raced.

"So, how do you feel about your first dance here in the palace?" Seokmin questioned.

"Hm," Y/N began. "I think it's going pretty great. I didn't know you could dance.”

"It's mandatory for royals to learn here," he hummed. "I've known how to dance since I was seven."

Y/N's eyes widened, and silence ensued. Suddenly, Y/N leaned forward and rested her head on Seokmin's chest, his heart beating loudly into her ear. The two stayed like this for a while until the next song played, and Seokmin spoke up once again.

"My father wants me to use this to announce the wedding," Seokmin looked down at Y/N. "Do you want that?"

Y/N hummed. "I don't see why I can't learn to love someone like you, Your Highness."

Seokmin's heartbeat sped up as he moved his hand from Y/N's waist to her chin, making her face him. He bent down, his lips centimeters from hers and—

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════ ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

"Ew! Cooties!"

The two elders laughed at their grandchildren's exclamation.

"Yes, kids. Cooties. Now, don't you think about doing that until you are much, much, much older, you hear?"

"Yes, Grandpa!" the eldest giggled.

"But did the prince and the princess ever get their happily ever after?" the younger questioned, pouting at her Grandparents.

"Of course they did!" Y/N told the child, running her hand through their hair.

“The end?”

“The end.”

“Oh! I guess I showed up at a wonderful time! C’mon kiddos, time for bed!”

The kids turned their heads to face the doorway.

“Uncle Jun!” They bolted towards the door to greet their Uncle, throwing quick goodnights and goodbyes before exiting the room. Junhui waved to the married couple and followed after the children.

Seokmin glanced over at his wife, shot her a wink and said, "Please, princess, forever stay with me like this."

135 notes · View notes

shuahoonie · 3 years

Text

holidays with tom [tom holland]

PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader

SUMMARY: life isn’t exactly back to normal. with another lockdown in place and the holiday season is vastly approaching, you and tom are stuck in quarantine with each other the problem? there was supposed to be at least 5 of you in that house and tom is the last person you want to be with. shouldn’t be too bad right?

WARNINGS: in no particular order swearing—err foul language lmao, sexual innuendos, things get heated but not that much??? exuding sexual tension but also fluff??? alcohol consumption, a series of bad decisions??? idk writing this made me experience the 5 stages of grief tbh lmao it’s not that bad I promise lmao

WORD COUNT: 6.9k!

A/N: hello and happy new year! I was supposed to post this during Christmas Day but guess who got into a writing rut—yet again. I didn’t want to abandon this because I actually had fun writing it. I hope you all had a festive and safe holiday. I know things have been hard but I still hope you guys enjoyed the holiday.

2020 has finally came to an end and we’re all ending it the same way when the pandemic started—staying at home, hopefully following the appropriate health measures. I can only hope that 2021 is a brighter and hopeful year for all of us.

stay safe, sending u all my love.

gif credits: @underoos-shield

vanessa’s masterlist | taglist form

Two hours. It’s been two hours since you found out that you were going to spend your holidays alone. You were aware that you weren’t going to spend your holidays with your family as you normally would, embracing the fact that working in a different country whilst in the middle of a pandemic was going to be challenging.

Working in the film industry, constantly visiting sets while still living in a pandemic means that you threw away your chances of being home for the holidays. However, you weren’t entirely the only one who shares a similar struggle.

“We should still do something for Christmas, you know,” Tom muttered as he watched you lay down on the sofa, your head is supported by the armrest.

See—it should’ve been you, Ophelia, Alex, William, and Tom in that AirBnB, not just you and Tom.

The five of you reside abroad, however, you all had to fly to Los Angeles for work. You all collectively knew that it would be irresponsible to fly home for the holidays and it wouldn’t make any sense as you would all fly back for work anyway.

The five of you had a brilliant idea of renting an AirBnB for the holidays since you were all in each other’s personal and work bubble anyway. Obviously, the three of them bailed as they’ve decided to stay with their partners instead, leaving you and Tom alone—which is the last thing you’ve wanted.

“There’s just us two, Tom,” You replied as you sent a lengthy text to Ophelia, telling and reminding them about what happened between you and Tom. “I’m not entirely sure if it’s worth anything if we did plan on doing something remotely festive.”

There are four more days till Christmas and if you were being honest, the last time you felt festive was on the 18th of December...of 2019.

“Surely there’s something we can do, right?” Tom’s optimism still shined beneath him. “This year has already been shitty enough, we don’t need to feed more into that.”

The three dots bubble immediately popped up on your message thread with Ophelia as soon as you sent your passive-aggressive rant. Your focus was now on your phone.

Suddenly, Tom’s face appeared on top of yours—his face was definitely close enough that it’s not CDC approved. He was standing on side of the sofa, both of his palms planted against the armrest as he loomed over you.

“What do you and your family do during Christmas?” He dared to ask as if he wasn’t towering over you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Uh—give each other personal space?” You answered out of sheer reflex. You always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, especially when it sounds rude to other people. In your defence, being unable to do so has helped you put people back in place.

To be fair, you were used to people standing at least 6 ft away from you ever since the pandemic started.

Tom’s cheeks went bright red. “’m sorry,” He apologized, giving you a shy smile and scratched the back of his neck. You muttered a quick apology too, for acting so rashly.

You rose from your position and sat upright instead. “Well, we never do anything special during Christmas,” You said as you threw your hair into a bun. “We usually just go to the movies on Christmas Day because that’s the only thing you can do back when life was normal.”

Tom nodded understandingly as if he was taking this into account. Now you were curious.

“Do you guys do anything special for Christmas?” You asked him.

“Well, on Christmas Day, we would usually just lounge around the house and use it as a chance for me and my family to catch up,” Tom replied. “However, on Christmas Eve, my mum always made sure my brothers and I would have this scavenger hunt to look for our gifts—It’s really fun, actually.” Tom smiled sadly.

You could easily see how Tom was genuinely broken about not being able to be around his family over the holidays. Heck—he really just misses his family. But who wouldn’t? Britney Spears didn’t sing the line “my loneliness is killing me” for nothing.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say. Aside from biting your tongue, being able to easily comfort people was one of your weaknesses too.

“Oh, there’s nothing to be sorry about, darling.” Tom quickly dismissed the genuine heartbreak he was trying to hide. “We’re all making sacrifices and we chose to be responsible for the benefit of other people.”

“Yeah, I know.” You said softly. “We’ll just try our best to make something out of this holiday season. I mean—we have to or else we’ll welcome 2021 with a fresh face of misery.”

“I’m sorry!” Ophelia pouted at the screen as they mindlessly walked around their partner’s place, something that most people do when they’re on the phone with someone. “I genuinely forgot about what happened between you and Tom.”

“Well, Ollie, it seems like you weren’t the only one.” You replied, adjusting your glasses. Tom seems to be genuinely fine around you, no awkward tensions or anything. If anything, it’s just you who feels weird around him. “But I guess that’s a good thing right?”

Ophelia forced a smile but they couldn’t, for the life of them, say anything about it.

“Oh my god,” You sighed “Seriously, Ollie?”

“It’s just—how could he forget?! You were literally on top of him as I recall and that very much left a permanent image on my mind. I—You know, I really tried my best to forget that ever existing in my mind. So really, if anything, it’s your fault.” Ophelia rambled on.

“I—I wasn’t on top of him. That’s absurd! I was merely pressed against him” You said defensively, in which Ophelia just laughed atrociously. “Why am I friends with you again?!” You asked rhetorically, bewildered by the fact that you two lasted this long.

“First of all, that is a hate crime. Second, I’m cool—like everyone wants to be my friend and you should be glad that I gave you the privilege to be even on a nickname basis as me.”

You rolled your eyes at them. Despite the never-ending banter, you were grateful to have Ophelia as your friend.

“But seriously, Y/N,” Ophelia said, “You can always just stay with me and Ericka. She’ll be glad to have you over for the holidays.”

“Ollie, as much as I love spending time with you two—I can’t stand being a third-wheel, especially when it comes to the both of you. You two are inseparable when you’re together.” You replied. “I appreciate the offer though.” You smiled at her.

“I’m just saying—” Ophelia replied, shrugging her shoulder. “Unless you and Tom really want to have the house by yourselves.” They sang teasingly.

“Ophelia!” You gasped.

“What?” They feigned innocence. “I gave you an option to stay with us! Plus, I know Alex and Will are would’ve asked you to stay with them if they had any idea what happened between you two.”

“I can’t leave him!” You started to whisper “Tom seems genuinely bummed being here. I can’t just do that to him.”

It’s as if a light came on inside them. Ophelia started to smirk and you recognized that smirk from anywhere. For christ’s sake, their eyes twinkled like Christmas lights. It drove you nuts. “I fucking knew it.”

“What?”

“You like him don’t you?!” They teased, but all you could do was blush.

“I do not!” You denied it as you could still feel the burning heat emitting from your cheeks.

“His tongue is that good huh?” Ophelia decided to pry even further. They clearly find enjoyment as you squirmed your way out of this conversation.

“Bitch, I am ending this call.” That was all you could say. Even if you did find a smart retort, it was no use, especially with Ophelia. They can see right through you and there’s no point in trying to hide it.

“Honestly, Y/N, we’re living through a pandemic. If there’s any time to make any rash decisions, it’s now. Go get that dick, bih—”

You drowned out whatever Ophelia was trying to say with your goodbyes and proceeded to end the call. The one time you asked your friend to be serious and they come up with this.

So—what really happened with you and Tom?

It was two years ago. You were at a party that you didn’t even plan on attending. However, you were dragged by Ophelia and their partner, Ericka—your new friends in the area. You couldn’t say no to them, they were your first friend in LA!

You thought about it though, saying no. But when you got a message from your friend back in Canada sending a photo of your boyfriend ex-boyfriend (the same guy who had ghosted you ever since you moved to LA), swapping spits with another girl, you suddenly had the strong urge to drink until you die of alcohol poisoning.

You were burning with anger that you really felt tears pricking your eyes. You were so close to crying or punching someone—whichever comes first.

One thing’s for sure, though, you weren’t going to cry over a man. So what did you do? “Ophelia, where’s the booze?!” You asked your friend whose eyes nearly popped out of their head.

Well, you weren’t really going to punch a stranger. Though you felt this burning sense of violence, it’d be much more satisfying to punch the living daylights out on your ex.

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?” That line always puts on the waterworks, no? Ophelia was clearly concerned about your newfound thirst for alcohol.

You furiously wiped the tears off your face. “Um just found out my boyfriend—er ex-boyfriend, who stopped talking to me as soon as I moved here, is seeing someone else now? I don’t know, am I allowed to feel angry when I don’t even know if we’re still together as soon I moved? Fuck—” You tried to explain as you wiped every tear that left your eyes.

“Oh—of course, hon.” Ericka who handed you a drink. You weren’t exactly sure what it is, but you knew it has alcohol in it and that’s all that matters. You gulped the entire thing and you wanted more. “Y/N, you need to slow down.”

“Are you sure you want to stay? I mean we can crash at our place, eat take-outs, watch movies and be totally disconnected from the world.” Ophelia suggested, but you shook your head furiously.

“No, I—I’m ok.” You answered “I can’t let the both of you be stuck in misery with me. I need this. I’ll get drunk and if I'm up for it, I’ll hook up with someone. It’s not a healthy coping method but I really want this night to be a series of bad decisions. I don’t want to be myself, even just tonight.”

So that’s what you did. You were going from one drink to another in record time. Both Ophelia and Ericka kept an eye on you, just in case someone tried to take advantage of your drunken state.

You were talking to some guy you met in the kitchen, one thing led to another and next thing you knew, you were making out with this dude in someone’s bathroom. Ophelia and Ericka were drunk enough to pester the guy you were making out with but not drunk

As you were propped on top of the sink and your legs wrapped around his waist, you felt every bit of his lips explore the side of your neck as his hands explored every inch of your body. With his hand under your shirt and his fingers tracing every part of your skin, it just reminded you of how lonely you were.

Here you were, a thousand miles away from home, all alone just so you could do the one thing you really love. Your family would sometimes call to check up on you but it just wasn’t the same. Your ex tried to guilt you into staying in Canada, but you couldn’t do that. You love what you do and you love yourself too.

You were willing to risk everything, even if happiness came at a price.

Now you were crying, and the guy you were making out with definitely noticed.

“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked as he pulled down your shirt.

“No—no, I’m just—” You tried to calm yourself down. “I’m not sure if I want to do this anymore.”

“That’s alright,” He mumbled wiping the tears off your face. “Do you want to talk about it? You seem rattled.”

“It’s just I’m so tired of pretending everything is alright—that I’m okay being alone, that I don’t need anyone. But it’s just so hard because I’m—” You sobbed “I’m so fucking lonely. I’m so tired of being alone.”

The guy tucked the stray piece of hair behind your ears as he carefully wiped your tears with his thumb. He was just silent as he listened to you sob.

“I’m sorry, I know you definitely didn’t come to this party to watch a complete stranger cry over something stupid.” You couldn’t even look him in the eye, you were embarrassed as this was the first time you felt really vulnerable—especially in front of a stranger.

“No, you’re alright.” He tried to console you “I think that’s the beauty in strangers, no? You can act and do whatever you want in front of them because there’s a slim chance you’ll ever see them again.”

You were definitely drunk enough that trying to make sense of who the person was a struggle enough of itself. You tried your best to look at the guy but your vision was getting hazy and you could feel your head thumping that focusing made you feel like you want to crack your head in half.

A loud knock on the door caused you two to jump. “I’m coming in,” Ophelia yelled and opened the door. Ophelia looked at the guy for a while, trying to make sense of who he was before their eyes widened. “I remember now—You’re Tom Holland.”

Imagine your surprise when you found out that you were going to work with Tom Holland for a while. You tried your best to avoid Tom at work but of course, that didn’t work out. He never brought up what happened between you two and you assumed he probably forgot all about it.

You tried to rationalize that he meets a lot of people every day. Surely, one failed hook-up wasn’t worth remembering (especially with alcohol involved) and you held on to that.

At least that’s what makes you sleep at night and also one of the reasons why you considered spending the holidays with him. However, you were also expecting your crew friends to stay with you and not just Tom.

“Y/N, did you like the gift? It’s from me and Ericka!” Ophelia asked. It was the next day and you two were just chatting on FaceTime. You were sorting out your closet out of sheer boredom. You figured if you were going to stay here for three weeks, the least you could do was sort your clothes out.

You stared at the neatly wrapped box that Ophelia and Ericka dropped off earlier this morning. “I haven’t opened it yet.” You said as you showed them the box. “I wanna open it till Christmas.”

“Oh my god, just open it. Christmas doesn’t exist this year, babe.” Ophelia waved their hand, encouraging you to open it.

“Fine,” You gave in. You opened the box and saw a very lush and well-made lingerie set. “Ophelia, what the fuck” You gasped. You held out the lingerie in front of the camera.

“Y/N, I definitely outdid myself this time.” Ophelia sighed happily, staring at the screen. “Try it on!”

“Ollie, this is gorgeous but when am I ever going to use this?” You asked holding it out on your body and looking at the mirror.

“Uh—you’re stuck at home with your failed but also potential hookup,” Ollie suggested, wiggling their eyebrows. “Who knows what might happen?”

You rolled your eyes at them. “Bold of you assume that something might happen.”

“Something won’t happen if you don’t try that one,” Ophelia said. “C’mon, I wanna see.”

You shook your head and went out of frame in order to strip off your clothes. You tried on the lingerie—it’s a black lace teddy with a very exposing back. IT fit you perfectly—it accentuated your figure and definitely showed off your boobs. You weren’t really fond of showing off your body but you still tried your best to show it to your friend.

“What do you think?” You asked, stepping back to the frame.

“You look gorgeous, babe!” Ophelia squealed. “I knew I made the right choice with black.”

“I still don’t know where I should wear this though—” You were stopped mid-sentence when your door swung open.

“I know what we’re doing this—Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” Tom stood there, frozen, his eyes widened and immediately shut the door.

You couldn’t even say anything. You were frozen in shock.

“Was that Tom?” Ophelia asked from the call, briefly forgetting that you were talking to them through FaceTime.

You nodded slowly, unable to talk.

“What did he think?” Ophelia asked excitedly.

You snapped out of this haze. “Ollie,” you groaned. “I think he was mentally scarred.

“What do you mean scarred? You look great!” Ophelia said, appalled. “If he doesn’t think you look banging in that lingerie then it’s his loss.”

“I gotta go, I need to change.” You said, bidding Ophelia goodbye. “Thanks for the gift, Ollie. Tell Ericka thanks too.”

You ended the call and changed into comfier clothes. You couldn’t help but wonder how on earth you’re going to face Tom now that he’s seen you practically naked. Well, it’s not like that’s a new sight. He did see you with your bra on when you were making out in the bathroom that one time. But still!

Are you actually going to spend your Christmas in your room?

It was the next day and there are only two more days till Christmas. You spent the entirety of last night in your room after the incident between you and Tom.

You were about to make yourself some coffee when you found Tom in the kitchen, making tea for himself. You stood there frozen, wondering if you were going to proceed to the kitchen or just run back to your room since Tom hasn’t noticed you—

“Oh—good morning, Y/N.” So close.

You smiled at Tom and said, “Good morning, Tom.”

You grabbed a coffee pod and waited for the Keurig to make your coffee. You leaned back against the counter and fiddled with your phone—all in the hopes that things move quickly and for this awkward tension to be over.

Honestly, why were you so worked up about it? People have seen you in a bikini before and that’s no different from lingerie. If anything, lingerie is itchier and has lace. You should be able to feel confident in your own body and you shouldn’t have to mind what other people think of it. It’s yours alone and it’s your opinion that should matter—

“I’m terribly sorry about last night, Y/N.” Tom apologized, sincerity was written all over his face. “I should’ve knocked and I just got so bloody excited about what we can do over Christmas—but that’s no excuse for what I’ve done. What I did was incredibly intrusive and you deserve a proper apology.”

“Tom, I—”

“I wanted to apologize last night—over dinner—but you didn’t come down to eat, so I figured you didn’t want to talk. “ He rambled on.

“Tom—”

“But even then I should’ve asked you to come down and eat dinner because that’s what any decent human would do! And yet I didn’t. God—I’m just doing one wrong thing after another—”

“Tom, listen to me.”

“Hm?” He finally snapped out and looked at you in the eyes.

“It’s okay. It was an honest mistake and you sincerely apologized, and for me, that’s enough.” You smiled softly at him. “So—what’s this thing you planned over Christmas?”

“I was thinking we could do both our family traditions over the next two days. My family and I usually do a roast dinner and open our Christmas stockings on Christmas Eve. Then on the 25th, we can watch movies all day just like you do with your family.” Tom grinned, clearly satisfied with his plan. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” You smiled “However, I don’t think we have any ingredients for a roast dinner and we don’t really have Christmas stockings. Well—I don’t have any Christmas stockings and stocking stuffers.”

“That’s true,” Tom mumbled “But I have to do the food shopping anyway. We’re running low on food and I couldn't really book one of those online delivery things that most groceries now offer.”

You nodded. “Okay, so I guess I have to get the house sorted then.”

When you two first arrived in this AirBnB a few days ago, it had already been decorated for Christmas. It had a massive tree in the living room decorated with stunning and intricately-themed ornaments. Christmas garlands were wrapped around the stair-bannisters and foliages were placed by the fireplace and the tables.

All you really had to do was clean the place—do a bit of vacuuming and get things nice and neat for Christmas. It didn’t take you too long to do it too. It had only been a couple of minutes since Tom left to do the food shopping and you prayed to the gods that he doesn’t get too much attention whilst out.

You figured you might as well do some last-minute shopping while Tom was out, so you can grab gifts for him as well. After all, this whole thing was orchestrated by Tom and you don’t even have anything to give him for his stockings.

You arrived at your AirBnB a tad later than Tom. He was in the kitchen putting things away when he saw you walk through the door.

“Ah, I was wondering whether I spooked you with my plan,” Tom commented, making you chuckle and roll your eyes.

“Trust me, I would’ve made it very obvious if you did.” You replied, earning a laugh from Tom. “I went out to do my last-minute shopping. Granted, it’s not ideal since we’re still living through a pandemic, but there’s not actually that many people where I went to considering it’s the Christmas rush.”

You made sure to hide the stuff you bought using the handmade tote bags that a friend gave you for your birthday. No retail bags, no clue. “How did you survive the groceries? I bet it’s busy out there.”

“Yeah, it was.” Tom chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Remind me to never do that again for Christmas.”

“Sure,” You said, “That is if I spend another Christmas with you.” You said jokingly, hoping that Tom didn’t find that rude.

“You’ll never know,” Tom shrugged. “What if you liked our Christmas this year and you’d be begging to spend Christmas with me and my family in London,” Tom smirked, playing along.

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed playfully, crossing your arms. “If anyone’s begging, it’s going to be you.”

Tom stepped closer, “Wanna bet?” He whispered, a teasing look in his eyes. “Whoever has the most fun during our respective holiday traditions would have to spend the holidays with them next year.”

“Oh, you’re on, Holland.” You took a step closer. “We will both film our holidays for the entire two days and then we’ll ask Ophelia, Alex, and Will to vote whoever looks like they had the most fun.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded “But no editing! We’ll give them raw footage so there are no chances of tampering.”

You laughed but you agreed anyway. “Of course, we’ll give them hours of footage. The least we could do is make them sit through hours of content after they ditched us all alone on the holidays.”

Tom gave a broad smile. “Let the festivities begin.”

It was the 24th of December—Christmas Eve. You spent the entirety of last night wrapping Tom’s presents for later. Not that you despise Christmas, but it’s been a while since you were actually excited to celebrate it. It was pretty clear that the magic of Christmas dies once you grow up.

Today was different; you were looking forward to whatever Tom has installed for tonight.

You went downstairs to make some breakfast only to be greeted by Tom blasting Christmas music and preparing some ingredients for breakfast in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Y/N, happy Christmas Eve,” Tom greeted with a huge grin. “Say, hi to the camera.”

“Oh, we’re starting this early, huh?” You asked, putting your hair into a loose ponytail.

“Why of course, we have to make the best out of this,” Tom said, holding the camera to your face. “I made you coffee.” Tom handed you a cup of coffee.

“Are you using my love for coffee as an advantage?” You tried to hide your smile while drinking your coffee.

“Obviously not,” Tom feigned his innocence. “I obviously did not know you were obsessed with coffee—it’s not like I don’t see you on set without one.” He mumbled in which you definitely heard, giving him a smack on the head. “Ow! I’m kidding.” He laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“We’re going to make french crèpes,” Tom replied and propped the camera on the kitchen island, facing the two of you.

“Do you know how to make french crèpes?” You asked, washing your hands.

Tom blinked, almost trying to decide whether he wants to be honest or impressive. “Do you know how to make french crèpes?” He returned the question.

“Oh honey, my mom resents me in the kitchen.” You replied, taking a sip from your coffee. “But you know, I manage.” You murmured.

“That’s giving me a lot of hope, darling, thank you.” He said half-heartedly.

“Shut up,” You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Tom, honestly, most of the footage is just us bantering for 20 minutes.”

“To be fair, that’s part of the fun.” Tom smiled. “Okay, I think you just mix all of these in a bowl. Start with the dry ingredients first.” He said, looking at the recipe on his phone.

“Okay, that shouldn’t be too hard,” You commented pouring the ingredients into the bowl. As you started all of the ingredients together, you noticed small lumps forming in the batter. “Tom, did you sift the dry ingredients by chance?”

“You were supposed to sift it?” He asked, completely clueless.

You nodded slowly. Panic was now clearly painted on his face. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him.

It was not fine. The first time you two tried to pour the batter in the pan, you burnt the entire thing. It’s not even the cute, lightly burnt crepe. It was activating the smoke alarm-burnt crepe.

The next one was pancake-like. The next one after that had pocket flours on the crepes because you two didn’t sift your dry ingredients beforehand. You ran out of the batter when you two finally got the consistency right—you managed to get one proper crepe from the entire batter.

“I feel like Sam would probably curse me out as soon as he finds out I fucked up a simple crepe,” Tom said, delicately filling the crepe with creme and berries. “My brother’s done so well in culinary school.” He cut a piece with his fork and brought it to your mouth.

“Well, you can’t have everything.” You said taking a bite out of the crepe. “This is better than the last one.”

Tom nodded, taking a bite of it himself. “It’s not as tasty as Sam’s but I’ll take it.”

“Now, I’m curious as to what your brother’s cooking tastes like.” You commented taking another bite from the crepe.

“I guess I’ll just take you home to London to find out,” Tom teased with an annoying grin.

“As long as I’m being fed, I’m fine with it.” You remarked. What in god’s name are you are you two playing?!

The day rolled by very quickly. It was already evening when you finished wrapping the presents for your friends. You plan on dropping it off tomorrow before you persuade Tom to glue yourselves on the couch for the entire day.

You grabbed all of Tom’s gifts—Christmas stocking included— when you went downstairs, only to be greeted by someone yelling at Tom through his phone.

“I did everything right, Sam. I don’t know why you’re yelling.” Tom yelled back at his phone. His back was turned against you as he was putting away the pots and pans that he used.

You quietly walked up behind him and said calmly, “Why are you yelling?”

Tom probably jumped six feet away from you, making you laugh. You always forget that he gets scared easily. “Holy shit, don’t scare me like that, Y/N.” Tom breathed out, putting a hand over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” You said whilst laughing. “I promise I won’t do it again.” Tom rolled his eyes, murmuring something about you being insincere about it.

“Please do it again!” You heard, whom you assume is Sam, say from the background. You looked at Tom’s phone that’s propped on the island and saw his brothers on FaceTime.

You beamed at them. “Any recommendations?” You asked, hearing Tom groan behind you.

“Well, he hates—”

“This is the last thing I want in 2020, for my brothers and Y/N to conspire against me,” Tom said loudly on purpose, drowning his brothers' voices.

“Tom, don’t be rude. Let your brothers finish—” Tom put his hand against your mouth.

“I’ll call you guys later,” Tom said “Wave goodbye, Y/N.” He used his free hand to grab your hand and forced a wave towards his brothers. The call soon came to an end and you could only roll your eyes at Tom. You seem to do that a lot around him. You also do a lot of that when you try to hide your feelings towards a person you like but that’s beside the point.

“So are we going to have dinner first or are we going to do presents first?” You asked fixing your Christmas sweater, a gift from your parents since you and your family usually wear matching sweaters for Christmas. “Or are you the type to wait until Christmas Day to open presents?”

“We can do the Christmas stockings after dinner tonight, then do the presents tomorrow, if you’d like,” Tom answered with his arms crossed.

You shrugged, telling him it doesn’t matter since you don’t really go all out on Christmas. Your family on the other hand—the house is always full of people, especially since most of your extended family are usually around during the holidays. You had this ongoing game you made for yourself whether or not you’ll be able to greet everyone with the number of people in the house.

You could only guess how quiet your family’s Christmas is going to be. You definitely needed to call your parents later.

“Is the sweater that itchy, Y/N?” You heard Tom ask, breaking away from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You asked, confused. You didn’t even notice that you’ve been scratching yourself subconsciously.

“You’ve been scratching yourself since I saw you.” Tom said, chuckling. “It’s a cute sweater on you.”

You smirked. “That reminds me—I got something for you, Tom.” Tom raised his brow as you grabbed the bag you stashed behind the tree. “Actually my parents got this for you. A little thank you gift apparently for having the tolerance to stay with me over the holidays—as if you had a choice.” You mumbled the last part.

Tom curiously opened the bag and there revealed a matching sweater such as yours. This year’s sweater was green and had red tinsel all over it, probably the reason why you’re itchy. The real kicker is that—

“No way,” Tom gasped “It lights up?!” He asked laughing. It lights up.

“Yeah, I don’t recommend turning that on. I did it earlier and I’m pretty sure I was about to combust—it’s a real fire hazard.” You replied, enjoying the genuine joy that Tom is showing on his face.

“Oh but we have to turn the lights on when we take pictures,” He commented as he put on the sweater. “Thanks, Y/N.” He said softly, surprising you with a hug.

It’s the first real physical contact that you two had ever since that night when you made out and you were pretty adamant that people were just making up this notion of having butterflies in their stomach—they weren’t.

Tom’s roast dinner went surprisingly well. You kept teasing him that it’s Sam that you had to thank because you knew that Tom wouldn’t last in the kitchen without his brother’s instructions. Tom pouted the whole time. You eventually had to tell him

“It was sweet.” You told him as you helped him clear out the plates.

Tom was confused.

“I don’t think I’ve known someone that went through hell and back just to make a great effort Christmas dinner —even if it means getting yelled at by your brother.” You said, smiling softly at him. “I mean it’s just us two, really. We don’t even have to do this.”

“Think that’s the reason why I wanted to do it,” Tom replied. Now you’re confused. “It’s because it’s the two of us—that’s why I wanted to do it.”

As soon as you heard those words come out of Tom’s lips, you tried your best to stay calm. To say that you weren’t overwhelmed with emotions would be a huge lie. For someone who couldn’t hold their tongue, you were speechless. Tom’s giving you a run for your money and you weren’t exactly thrilled about it.

After dinner, you and Tom opened your stocking presents. The presents were pretty tame at the start—you both got each other socks, which was hilarious but greatly appreciated. You love socks, especially comfy and cushiony ones. You came to learn that Tom does too, which prompted you two to wear the socks immediately.

You got him candy canes, he got you chocolates. You also snuck in those small, in-flight alcohol bottles in there too—which he ended up loving. He got you those 10-pack skincare face masks, in which you let out a huge gasp, making him laugh.

“Oh, we have to use this at some point!” You exclaimed happily “Like, we need to have a spa night—where we just watch movies, doing face masks, eating takeouts. Oh, that’s the dream!” You sighed happily.

“We still have two weeks left till we go back to work, I'm sure we can find the time to do that,” Tom said with a permanent smile on his face, watching you with pure joy made him feel like he accomplished something big.

You got him one of those Instax polaroid cameras—true, it was a bit too much for a stocking stuffer especially since the box definitely stood out against the stocking, but you figured he’ll like it.

“Darling, this is too much but I’m thankful,” Tom commented as he took out the camera from the box. “I can’t wait to use this and keep memories using it—why don’t we start right now?! Let’s take a photo of us and our matching sweaters!”

Tom took a lot of photos of you two, in the end. A couple of overexposed photos, one with the matching sweaters, one with your faces pressed against each other, one with your faces way too close to the camera, and one where he gave you a kiss on your cheek (he asked if that’s okay, of course, you said yes. it’s not like he hasn’t kissed you before— still no conversations about that, by the way). It was a good thing you got him at least 3 boxes of those 20 pack films in his stockings as well.

The real kicker was Tom’s “small” stocking present for you. He got you this dainty, gold necklace with a crescent moon charm. You were pretty sure it was expensive because of the teal box it came with.

“Stop,” You gasped “Tom, now this—this is too much.” You stressed out. “I can’t have this. Nope, you have to return this.”

Tom shrugged as if it was nothing. “You deserve it. Darling, you deserve something nice after this shitty year.”

“Tom, I’m serious. This is too much.”

“I’m serious too, Y/N. Keep it, please. I’d be offended if you don’t.”

After the roller coaster of emotions due to the stocking presents, you gave your parents a call to wish them a merry Christmas. They insisted to do a video call because they wanted to see Tom in the family sweater—which your mom wouldn’t stop gushing about.

“I think your mum loves me,” Tom whispered closely in your ear. He didn't have to try too hard. With the laptop propped up on top of the coffee table, you two were sitting close together on the living room floor—knees touching, maximum close skin contact. CDC would never approve.

“Yeah, I think it’s the accent,” You mumbled jokingly.

Tom moved his head to take a good look at you, smiling. You could feel his eyes burning your skin. Why does he have to look at you like that? Why does he have to be this close?

The initial video call with your parents turned into a whole family reunion when you found out they set up a group call with your extended family. Imagine the dread and fear in your eyes when you heard your one aunt ask,

“Finally, Y/N, is that your boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened as you stuttered to say your defence, making Tom chuckle. You frowned at him and nudged him saying, “Don’t laugh, tell them no or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“No, unfortunately, I’m not,” Tom replied, laughing. “However, I do believe we make a cute couple, don’t we?” He teased, earning an earnest yes from your mom.

You could only wish for the floor to swallow you whole.

As the clocks rolled to twelve, it was officially Christmas. You and Tom figured you might as well start opening gifts again because Christmas Day is going to be a drag for the two of you.

“Okay, start with this.” You said as you handed him a gift bag. You didn’t give him a lot of gifts for the actual Christmas Day because you went all out on the stuffers.

“Pyjamas?” He asked with a grin. You made a signal for him to give you a minute. You ran to your room and changed into pyjamas.

“Not just pyjamas, Tom, but matching pyjamas!” You exclaimed, laughing. “I saw it and figured we should do this for my day.”

“Sick!” Tom laughed. Tom got into his pair of pyjamas as well and of course, he didn’t forget to pull out his new polaroid camera to take a photo of you two. “Shit, I forgot to film our entire Christmas Eve.” He said as he saw the camera that was still sitting on the kitchen island from earlier that morning.

You shrugged. “I’m pretty sure you’ll win either way. Just that content from the breakfast crepes was enough to secure your place.” You said jokingly.

“All I’m hearing is that you’re going to spend Christmas with me in London next year.” Tom sang teasingly.

“Yeah, maybe bringing you to our big Christmas holidays is a bad idea.” You wondered out loud.

“I like your family,” Tom commented with a smile “and I think they will love having me there for the holidays.”

“That would be a nightmare.” You mumbled to yourself.

The rest of the night dragged on. You and Tom finished the rest of your gifts—you got him a watch, he got you a vinyl player. You two managed to watch the first Harry Potter film before you called it a night.

You were about to head into your room when you heard Tom say, “Mistletoe.”

“Hm?” You hummed, confused. He placed a finger under your chin and gently tilted your head. There you saw a mistletoe hanging by one of the light fixtures.

“How did that even—”

“Can I kiss you?” Tom asked, cupping the sides of your face.

“Hm?” Tom was definitely giving you a run for your money. How can a girl with a speech turn speechless?

“Can I kiss you?” He asked more softly. All you could do was nod. For if you even dare to open your mouth, all of this would cease to exist.

His lips gently touched yours and then soon moulded into one. It was soft, sweet—familiar. His lips were something you never thought about—at least not a lot but you craved it. You crave his lips, his touch, him. You were riding a new high and you thanked every single god that you were sober to remember this—because this, this is something you want to cherish.

“You told me you’re tired of being alone,” Tom whispered against your lips. “You don’t have to be anymore. Not when you have me, not ever.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @quaksonhehe @dark-infernal-instruments @trustfundparker @emsma11 @tomshufflepuff @spider-babe @goodgirlgonetom