#24. not having the means time or opportunity to meet other people instead. and feeling dumb abt wanting to. and abt not doing some stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phantasmiac · 1 year

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in which you intern at the endeavor agency to learn the ropes but you learn to love ua student!touya instead

cw/tw: gender neutral reader (referred to as pretty + beautiful), touya has his old personality kinda, death of a relative, making out

wc: 5.4k

a/n: as far as i know shiketsu students don’t do internships in canon but the fantasy must live on. high school sweetheart!touya follow up can be read here.

during the first semester of your first year at shiketsu high, you’re offered an internship at the endeavor agency. you initially approach the offer with skepticism, already familiar with the number two’s notoriety, before coming to the conclusion that you’d have to be a complete idiot to pass up the opportunity. dealing with the stick shoved up endeavor’s ass for a short period of time was a small price to pay for long term success.

it’s through this internship that you meet the famous todoroki touya, in all his high school boy glory. son of the big man himself, one time winner of the ua sports festival; wasn’t so lucky the second time, though you’d think otherwise with the size of his massive ego. you loathe the way he has that stupid smirk plastered on his face 24/7, the way he always he always has some witty comment stored in his pocket. how he always tries starting shit with you, mentioning the ua-shiketsu rivalry like you’re some school patriot or something. of course you would’ve chosen ua over your military boot camp of a school if you had the chance. does he think you enjoy wearing this stupid cap all the time? maybe he should consider transferring since he likes stealing it off your head so much.

you hate the flock of teenage girls and boys he attracts on all your shared patrol routes, it’s fucking distracting. for you, at least, because he somehow always manages to get the job done regardless of all the chaos he’s either ensuing or attracting. it’s infuriating. and fuck do you hate how good looking he actually is. you’re under the impression that you’ve done a good job at maintaining your whole “uninterested” act but he sees right through you.

(“too bad your school has that dating ban shit….”

your eyes widen a bit. you start looking through the file you were reading more quickly and aimlessly to seem a little less attentive towards his words, but you become self conscious of how frantic you must seem and it only makes you feel more embarrassed. you’re avoiding looking at him, but you’re sure he’s revelling in how flustered he’s made you.

“i know there’s charitable people out there who’d be willing to take you out.”

his face meets your folder before he can blink.)

the things you hate about touya are the same things you like about him. he’s a cocky motherfucker, sure, but that also makes him less of a pussy. you’re not exactly a fan favorite at your school. your peers seem to think it unfair that you were born with such a powerful quirk; one that allows you to engulf your entire body in plasma, hot or cold. and some people are born lucky, and others straight up hit the fucking jackpot at birth. you’re not only able to conjure your own plasma, but you can even manipulate any form of it in your vicinity. truthfully, you thought todoroki touya would get in line with those green eyed monsters. he always did have a knack for proving people wrong.

(“i was kind of hopi — i mean thinking, you’d be like….. totally naked, after that. fire proof suit, duh. but that heat was insane. you need to spar me sometime!”)

and can you really complain about him provoking you, as if you don’t love banter? and perhaps his witty comments can be a little funny — when they aren’t directed towards you.

you begin to like todoroki touya a lot more in the middle of the second semester of your second year, on a particularly rainy night in musutafu. you’ve been hard at work all day, and it ends off with a burglar who gives you a harder time than most petty criminals you’ve encountered so far. to make matters worse, the rain has been ongoing all day, which isn’t ideal for either of your quirks. your ears have been cursed with the sounds of touya’s “i’m starving”’s and “when can we go home already”’s for hours. normally you’d jump at the opportunity to tell him off for acting like a baby, but the grumbles of your own stomach aren’t giving you much of a right.

your feet ache from all the running and walking of today’s patrol. your neighborhood is on your current route, so you have the advantage of being able to soon burst through your door and fall face first onto your mattress. touya isn’t so lucky; he’s still a long way from the train station, and he hasn’t even checked when the next train is set to arrive. guilt pools in your stomach when the silhouette of your house comes into view.

if touya’s jealous of you, he doesn’t say. just yawns out an “i’ll see you tomorrow” and waves weakly at you before going on his merry way. as you’re climbing your front steps, something compels you to give him another glance. the sight of his back is only getting smaller and smaller, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just let a stray kitten back out onto the streets.

your head tells you to get your ass inside and bask in some grub and relaxation, but your treacherous heart has other plans. you’re glad he’s focused on the road in front of him, or else he’d see your mental battle getting all weird and physical. you’re twisting and turning and grimacing before you’ve even officially embarrassed yourself, until it’s time to finally throw in the towel and groan in defeat.

“hey!” you yell, a bit louder than necessary (you definitely startled a few neighbors). voice might’ve even cracked, just a tad (he definitely noticed).

touya turns abruptly, an eyebrow raised and hands in his pocket as his eyes scan for some other person you might be croaking at. seeing no one, he gives you his attention.

“do you… maybe wanna come inside? it’s getting really late, and…. if you get into trouble on the way home it won’t be good for you to fight on an empty stomach.”

there is genuine surprise written on his face, the smug look you were expecting nowhere to be found. he thinks it over for a few seconds before responding.

“this your way of finally making a move on me?”

there it is.

“or you can starve. bye!”

“joking! what's for dinner? hey! please!”

your grandma loves touya. gushes over how handsome he is and tells him that tired story of the time she saw endeavor up close and personal.

(“i wouldn’t be standing here today if it weren’t for that man!” every. single. time.)

but touya is a daddy’s boy through and through, maintaining an expression that reads “yup, that’s my dad” through the whole thing. he wolfs down your grandma’s dinner like it’s the best thing he’s ever had the privilege of consuming, and you find that amusing because you’re positive all that pro hero money his dad brings home grants him the finest of meals from the finest of chefs. “i can tell you made this with love,” he tells her. grade-a ass kissing. his flattery makes you want to gag, but it’s nice seeing your grandma all happy. not that she isn’t a naturally cheery old woman, but you know she loves a visitor now and then, and her loser grandchild isn’t doing her any favors. it can get lonely, at times, just the two of you in the house.

and it’s nice seeing this side of touya. it’s like watching him strip himself of his armor. no over the top antics or bravado. you consider that you could be the first person outside of his family to see him this way, but if you think about it for too long, you might trigger your quirk and melt right through the floor, so you keep scrubbing at the dishes to distract yourself, as if you aren’t complete shit at hiding your expressions.

“what are you grinning about?”

so much for beating the heat. your face grows a little hot, but seeing as there’s no radiant light that follows, you assume you’re not having some freak show reaction. and for that you’re grateful, so you decide to indulge him, just this once, shaking your head in an attempt to compose yourself.

you give him a small smile (so much for not blinding him with your light).

“i’m just thinking about how wild it is that todoroki touya is in my house, kicking it with my grandma. i sound like one of your little fans, i know. but it’s true, that you’re like, basically a celebrity.”

as a treat for successfully going 5 seconds without responding like an asshole, you continue.

“i guess being your partner for the past few months made me forget you’re some…. hot shot heir to the todoroki throne or whatever. and so many people have seen your face, know your name, but they don’t really know you. how many lives did i save in my past life to gain the privilege of getting to know someone as delightful as you.”

the last part was an obvious joke; at least you thought it was. but touya is looking at you in such an indecipherable manner that it has you wondering if he took it literally. maybe you freaked him out. my partner was actually my obsessive stalker-fan. that’d make a good story for some magazine when he’s #1.

touya’s lips are slightly parted. he presses them back into a line, chewing on one of his piercings. his grip on the marble counter is tight, and his adam's apple is bobbing up and down like it’s charging up for whatever he’s about to say next.

“so…. so what do you think? of me?”

huh. you never knew he came with a low volume option.

his question catches you off guard. it’s one he’d normally have answered for you already by adjusting the pitch of his voice to mock you and all. he’d probably call himself touya the great or something, and add some kissy sounds at the end for a little pizazz. pass up an opportunity to portray you as utterly infatuated with him? unheard of.

but he doesn’t sound anything like his usual massive headed self when he asks his question, and you feel an eagerness creeping up your throat that makes you think touya’s typical rendition of your character is about to become real accurate.

“i think…. i think you’re….i think you’re pretty cool. and not in the ‘holy shit he’s strong’ way. i mean, yeah, that too, but….” something hits the light switch inside you. “hey did you know you, like, catch fire when you’re excited? they’re just tiny little flames, like, poof!” you motion with your hands.

(if there’s one way to get touya moping, it’s giving him a “boring” patrol route. you’d think having lower crime rates is a bad thing the way he starts to whine about what “little action” he’s gonna get that day. but if there’s any way to raise his spirits, it seems like reminding him that you’ll be tagging along — not like you’ve been his partner for months now or anything — is the most effective. you can’t even bring yourself to berate him for forgetting about you, the way he quite literally flickers blue at the mention of you like he’s wagging some imaginary tail.)

“— but it’s something i’ve noticed. and i’ve seen you cry, a lot, like when you lost the spo — like when you’re frustrated, and stuff.”

(it was late at night the first time you’d seen him all vulnerable. most of the heroes seen throughout the building during the day had head on home, and those who usually took on the night shifts were slowly trickling in. you were appreciating the rare, momentary silence after a particularly long day, under the presumption that you were all alone on the locker room floor. it wasn’t until you were making your own exit — practically skipping to the elevator with your bag flung over your shoulder — that soft sniffles rang through your ears. your glee morphed into concern as you followed the sounds to their source, all the way to a neglected vending machine at the corner of the floor.

your eyes landed on the last person you’d expected, crouched and hidden away. and now instead of concern, awkwardness began filling your limbs and cementing you in place. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to console touya; no, you wanted to be the one to wipe his tears and doubts away. you just thought your pity — or even just the sight of someone witnessing him at his lowest — would infuriate him. maybe he was too proud for a shoulder to lean on.

you’re too busy weighing out your options to notice touya looking up at you with red eyes and a snotty nose. he snaps you out of your thoughts when he asks you how long you’ve been standing there “like a creep”. not long, you tell him, both honestly and anxiously. you’re not sure your heart can handle being genuinely yelled at by him. the building is more than familiar with the sounds of his and enji’s yells coming from the number two’s office, and they’re not pleasant to listen to.

in the end, it doesn’t have to bear that weight. because touya just balls up his fists to rub at his eyes, chuckling about how he’s never able to hold back his stupid crybaby tears. they’re not stupid, you tell him. he just feels things more strongly than others. it’s an admirable trait to have.

touya watches you fish through your bag for some coins before letting it drop to the ground.

“it seems like the pros always talk about their feelings over a drink so….. coke or fanta?”)

“— anyways i know it’s cheesy but it’s encouraged me to be more open with my own emotions, too. and when your siblings visit the agency, it’s sweet, seeing you interact with them. i can tell how much you love them.”

you don’t realize your smile’s only gotten goofier as you visualize the image of him teasing his brother and sister, the flicks he gives them on the forehead like they’re his own little love language.

“oh! and you… you care, i guess? i don’t know if that’s the right way to put it, but you make an effort, you know? like when i give you song recommendations, you actually listen to them; means you’re listening to me, too.”

(it sounds incredibly corny, but loneliness truly has been your best friend since your first year at shiketsu. your classmates have made it very clear that they never want to hear any more than they have to from or about you; every time you’ve dared to cross the line they’ve drawn, you’ve been met with daggers for gazes and cold shoulders. touya’s naturally confused when you visibly shrink the moment your rambles get a little too passionate. a small pout forms on his face at the dimming of the twinkle in your eyes. but it can’t possibly compare to the confusion you feel when you see him the next day, and he’s suddenly stocked on knowledge about whatever the hell you were talking about yesterday. the gatekeeper in you is a little offended, but the wallflower is tinted pink.)

“and since i’m being so honest, fine, you have some good jokes, sometimes. you’re nice to talk to when you’re not being a complete pain in the ass.” a lovesick sigh escapes you. “yeah. i think you’re a really cool guy.”

your fingers are all pruny from the way you’ve been dragging the washing of the dishes. the crickets outside are having a field day and you can hear the soap foam pop and crackle. it’s quiet. touya is quiet, and he has been for awhile now. the sponge drops out of your hand along with your stomach at the realization.

you turn to him, quickly scrambling for words to apologize for word vomiting all over him, only to find him looking at you with a haze cast over his stupidly pretty eyes, in a way that disables you from your impromptu plan of punching him on the shoulder and calling him bro or some other friendly term of endearment. you’re not exactly the romance connoisseur or anything but that is not the look of a “bro”. that is the look of a teenage boy who is about to shut his eyes way too early, pucker his lips, and lean in at an obscenely slow rate.

that’s not how it happens, though. who do you take him for? some amateur? (he’s not. he’s a hot dude, sue him. not like any of those times mattered the way this does.)

the hand he places on your waist has electricity whipping up and down your spine, and your feet slipping under you. your hands plant themselves on his chest to avoid falling on your ass, but his tightening grip has already guaranteed your safety. now you’ve only found yourself even closer to him, and he takes the opportunity to cup the back of your neck and pull you forward. your eyes clam shut in anticipation. but the sensation of his lips on yours doesn’t arrive as quickly as you imagined. your nose brushes against the cool metal pierced through his own as his breath fans against your lips. time has stilled; he’s giving you a chance to pull away.

flusterment turns into frustration. the part of you that “hates” todoroki touya wants to bonk him on the head and call him a dumbass. have you not made yourself clear? you huff before moving your hands up his chest (foul play, he thinks) to wrap themselves around his neck and smooch him. now he’s the one hmphing, eyes opening wide in realization that this was actually fucking happening. after he’s composed himself, he’s somehow pulling you closer, grabbing you tighter, as if you could merge into one. that gets a gasp out of you, which touya takes as an invitation. hands are roaming and tongues are clashing; it’s sloppy, like most teenage make out sessions are. touya’s snake bites aren’t making it any more classy, and you giggle into his mouth at the thought how much metal gets in the way of you and his face. he doesn’t know that, of course, and assumes your sounds are from the sheer joy of this moment (they are, too) and smiles against your lips, leaning into the feeling of your hands holding his face.

no other senses are as important to either of you as touch or feel are in the heat of the moment. but at the sound of the familiar creak of the old floorboards, you find gratitude in your ability to hear. it enables you to snap out of your daze and yank touya’s hands off of you. you think you must be one of the strongest people in the world to be able to gather enough self control to break the kiss. in that case, touya has to be incredibly weak, the way he’s pouting and pawing at you to continue, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. he looks so damn cute, but you’re not willing to subject your poor grandmother's eyes to some high school pda.

as soon as she appears at the archway of the kitchen, remnants of his pr and media training take effect. he plays the role of boy who wasn’t just sucking your face all too well, a polite smile plastering itself on his face as he places his hands on the counter behind him.

your grandma, ever so oblivious and wholesome, holds a futon and a blanket in her arms, pestering touya about how dark and unsafe it is out there for a little boy like him (she says all this with her head thrown all the way back just to meet his eyes). you don’t process much of what they’re saying, still all flustered and disheveled. all you know is that touya’s ultimately decided to stay the night on your living room floor.

the last thing you see before heading off to your room for the night is touya’s knowing, teasing, shit-eating grin as he unrolls the futon on the floor, and the last thing you hear is your grandmother fussing over you.

(“you look a mess. my poor grand baby, working so hard every day,” her hands move from taming the flyaways on your head to caressing your face. “gosh you’re warm! are you running a fever? is that man overworking you kids?”)

though the afterglow of the kiss has your pillow feeling pleasantly cold and your mattress abnormally cloud like, your mind is nowhere near as tranquil. it’s riddled with thoughts of touya. the phantom feeling of his lips against yours only contributes to your restlessness. the first batch of your thoughts leave butterflies in your stomach. you allow yourself to indulge in fantasies of a potential future with the boy who holds your heart. you realize how delusional and foolish you seem; it’s exactly why you’d quickly shut those fantasies out when they would threaten to play out in the past, during silent nights just like this, where your mind would run rampant. but touya has now given you a glimmer of hope, and you can’t help but reach out for it and hold it close. touya liked you. liked you a whole lot if his… manners were any indication.

touya liked you. as the fact sinks in, your earlier words come to mind. touya was born to be huge, and he had no intentions of disappointing those who believed in him. touya had a destiny, while you lived in constant fear of never finding any meaning in your life. while training to be a hero was an honor, it was never your dream. as a child, you wondered why the universe had bestowed such a gift upon someone who had no desire for it; until “family” was numbered down to just you and your grandmother. you began to see your quirk as a resource rather than a gift. a resource that would allow you to provide for your little family, to secure a long life of comfort. and for the sake of optimism, you even became a little hopeful. hopeful that your purpose would manifest itself as you were surrounded by peers as “gifted” as yourself.

it never did happen that way.

when you first met touya, you were instantly struck with envy. the force of his ambition was overwhelming, to the point where you minimized him down to that single quality. he was the golden boy with his stupid dream. but a moth is bound to be drawn to a flame, and touya always burned especially bright. his tiniest details stuck to you like embers, and eventually you gave up on trying to scrub yourself clean of them. you learned to bask in his warmth; warmth you’d foolishly expected from others.

you feel like you’ve been grabbed by the shoulders and shaken awake from months of slumber, forced to open your eyes to reality. and maybe the reality is that you’re selfish. selfish for getting too comfortable in the presence of someone as sensational as touya. selfish for bringing him down to your level, selfish for ignoring the gap between you for so long.

you should feel guilty. you should feel ashamed.

instead all you feel is urgency. and maybe you’re not as valiant as touya, or as resilient. but you’re sure as hell as impulsive. it’s why your body tends to move to the beat of its own drum, and why it forces you to rip off your blankets and mindlessly race down to the living room. touya must have heard your vigorous stomping from a mile away, because he’s already sitting up on the floor all confused and watching you with puppy dog eyes. not even those downright freaky eyes are enough to freeze the adrenaline coursing through your veins. it’s still pumping when you drop to your knees to reach his level and slap your hands on the floor just to get all up in his face.

touya gulps. partially because of the close proximity, but mostly because you look pissed. you’re breathing all heavy and you’re frowning at him, so he can only conclude that you’re gonna tell him to stay the fuck away from you or threaten to yank all the piercings out of his skin if he ever even thinks about pulling that shit from earlier ever again (not an unheard of threat, by the way).

“i just realized you said see you tomorrow when you were about to go home,” you blurt out.

touya’s head is too anxiety ridden to notice how frenetic you sound. actually, i never want to see you again, is what he thinks you’ll say next, which pains him, especially now when your lips are just inches away and he’s fiending to get another taste of you. he can’t even ogle at them one last time with the way you’re staring at him expectantly for a response.

“yeah, so?” is the best he can muster through bated breath.

“tomorrow’s sunday.” your frown has slightly dissipated and your eyes have shifted to watch your fidgeting hands. you look…. dejected. touya can’t stand seeing you this way, even if you’re confusing (and scaring, honestly) the absolute shit out of him.

“oh. i’m sorry.” he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for, but he’ll do it as many times as you want him to. but you don’t want his apology. to hell with not being selfish. you want him to want you.

touya thinks you’ve finally decided to kill him when you lunge at him and knock him back into the coffee table. instead, he finds himself reaching the pearly gates of heaven for the second time that day when you grab a fistful of his hair and slot your mouth over his. in the darkness of the room, he’s able to see what exactly you were talking about earlier. hues of blue illuminate your surroundings. they don’t extinguish when the two of you find yourselves tumbling to the ground, lips still locked. the position has you straddling him, and it gets him hot and bothered enough to pull away slightly in fear of igniting completely.

touya is breathless when you look down at him. it doesn’t help that your eyes are reflecting the color of his flames. you look beautiful. he realizes he must’ve thought out loud when you bury your pretty face in his neck. the feeling of your soft breathing makes him jolt. shivers run through him when you begin to whisper against him, hands still running through his hair.

“tomorrow’s sunday…. but i still want to see you. is that okay?”

is it okay for me to stay by your side?

when you look back at the remaining days of your second year, it’s difficult to recall a single one that didn’t include touya attached to your side. there was an agreement, after that night, that all forms of affection would be reserved for the privacy of your home. it was a reluctant agreement from both sides, but it was a necessary one, given the rules of “shitketsu”, as he liked to call it. it’s laughable how fucked that agreement was from the very beginning.

touya couldn’t pretend if his life depended on it. when you’d scold him for trailing behind you like a puppy all day, he’d whine about how he couldn’t help it. “the heart wants what it wants!” he’d huff with his hands on his hips and his chest all puffed out, posing like a real hero. some fights aren’t worth losing, your grandmother used to say, and the odds never seemed to be in your favor anyway; not when he’d act so cute. so you’d just chuckle and let your head fall on his chest, mumbling something about how he had to make a bigger effort tomorrow — he never did, but fortunately your grandmother used to tell you some mumbo jumbo about acceptance, too.

a boy who is head over heels for you. some might question — rhetorically — if you could possibly ask for more. and you would answer that you could, with all the guilt in the world pooling in your stomach. because touya would look at you through heart shaped pupils. hold you close and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you napped after a long day. he’d kiss your doubt shaped tears away during your weakest moments like he cared and yet —

(“i didn’t raise you to end up walking in somebody else’s shadow. where’s your head at? don’t tell me it’s been clouded with some foolish desire for romance. leave that nonsense to your peers —”

“it’s not like that!”

“you think the greats wasted their time on trivial things like boyfriends or girlfriends—”

“i just said it’s not like that.”

“i have no interest in the technicalities of your involvement. i only ask that you don’t let it distract you from your goal. you’re not like the others. you’re my son.”)

happiness can only exist in acceptance. you remember those words now. and you were happy, for a while, feigning ignorance. not much had changed after that conversation, so who were you to complain? he was still your touya, and that should have been enough.

the distance grew subtly: rain checks, some messages left on read, nothing unusual. at the end of your second year, you decided not to renew your contract with the agency; touya didn’t question it, but neither did you when he’d said something along the lines of your decision “being for the best” instead of putting up a fight like you’d expected. you don’t know whether or not a fight would have saved your relationship from slipping through your fingers; only that your insecurities wouldn’t even let you try. before you knew it messages weren’t being exchanged for days, then weeks, and then eventually at all. rain checks became empty promises that paved the way for his eventual disappearance from your life.

touya had nothing to say about your decision to withdraw from shiketsu at the beginning of your final year, no words of sympathy for you while you sobbed over your grandmother’s open casket. there was no one to spin you around and pepper your face in obnoxiously loud and wet kisses after you’d completed your training at the district police academy, or moved into your first apartment; one you’d always fantasized about sharing.

you figure it must have been easy for touya to erase you from his life, considering your face has never been plastered on billboards and your name hasn’t been included in the headlines of any newspapers (lucky). there’s no room for resentment in your heart by the time you’ve been promoted from officer to detective. you’re good at what you do, always have been. but now that you can say you’re passionate about your job, living a dream you never knew you had, you know you’ve grown. the person you are now wouldn’t envy the wonder boy you met four years ago.

you do, however, find yourself pitying the current number five hero — young and quickly rising up the charts — when his “rowdy” behavior lands him at the center of controversies. the image of endeavor bursting a vein over all of blueflame’s scandals occasionally crosses your mind. you’ve both changed, that much is evident. whether the state of having “moved on” is applicable to both sides is a question that arises when you stumble upon images of him and some hot new mystery person on social media. the amount of people the cremation hero has been linked with since his debut couldn’t be counted on both your hands and feet combined, but it isn’t often that you’re forced to see photo evidence of his flings with your own eyes.

it’s then that you’re reminded of the shooting star that managed to melt through your fireproof hold; and that they never tell you exactly how much time is supposed to heal your wounds.

★ a/n pt. 2: so this was originally supposed to be a full ua student to pro hero touya fic but i felt like splitting it into two parts instead so stay tuned for that ig. in this part i characterized him as if he retained some of his baby traits (bratty and annoying in comic sans) but in part two he’ll act a little more canon compliant (bratty and annoying but in black metal font) since there’s a time skip and people change.

☆ fun fact: i wanted to make readers quirk fire related bc it’s canon that endeavor takes in a lot of fire quirk users at his agency and i immediately thought to rip off human torch. but then i started looking into what exactly plasma is (since human torch is described as using a “fiery” plasma) and i still Do Not Totally Get It BUT i learned that hot plasma is.. hot.. and “cold” plasma is great at fighting bacteria/infections (like on burns wink wink) which i thought was cool and useful so i just slapped that baby right on there like some flex tape. definitely not educated enough on the subject to delve into it in the story.

#BOOOOOOOO #this took me so long to finish for no reason #dabi drabble #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi #dabi angst #dabi x y/n #dabi fanfic #dabi fluff

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wwhatev3r · 2 years

Note

Hi! Love your content, I honestly go straight to your page first whenever I go on tumblr ^.^

Could I have a BOB ship pleasseeee?

I’m 5’1, long auburn hair, light brown eyes and chubby. I’m an INFP, and very introverted, can only socialize in groups for so long before my social battery runs out. I’m very independent and like to go places alone, like the movies, out to eat and even on vacation. I’m very close with my family and my two best friends. I love to make people laugh and feel good about themselves, I always try and give compliments whenever the opportunity arises. I love to read and write, currently working on my first novel :) I’m also big on thrifting, traveling, learning languages and about other cultures, cooking, going to history/art museums, and also tarot/ anything to do with the occult.

Thank you for your wonderful blog! xx

I Ship You With...

Eugene Roe

Notes: you do?! Oh that's so sweet. 🥺 You know, I completely relate to your personality and taste… like 100%!!!

You got the official Angel of Easy Company!!! Yeyyy!

At first he was just observing you from afar because you’re both introverts but then when you complimented his black hair and his amazing medical skills he got all flustered.

That was a big incentive for him to talk more to you.

I mean you’re the sweetest person he was just insecure at first because he finds you so fucking pretty.

Mostly your hair, that was something that caught his attention right away.

He completely understands when you have to take some time for yourself and take your time because he does too, you’re always the first couple to go home after a party when you’re in a pub with the rest of the company.

You prefer to enjoy your time reading at home or watching your favorite movie while you snuggle.

Also, he’s the type of boyfriend who gives you space; you don’t have to be 24/7 together and if you need to take some type for yourself or go out with your friends only, It’s completely understandable for him.

Gene does these small gestures when you get home that are just the most romantic ones; he’s not very vocal about his love for you as he wishes he was but he does these small dinners and romantic surprises like going to the movies on a random day.

Oh, he was so nervous to meet your family and friends but he’s so lovely that he was nervous for no reason, all of them absolutely loved him.

He’s so supportive of your writing, he’s constantly asking questions about your novel and when you’re having a writer’s block, lack of motivation or anything related to a writer’s problem… he will be there for you 24/7.

“Sweetheart, you need to stop comparing yourself and take a break, It’s okay.” he says.

He always makes you a natural herbal tea with a spoon of honey, and Gene always makes sure he makes a pagan pentagram for protection when mixing your tea.

About that, he was into the occult but he had some hobbies and beliefs that fit in that spectrum so he learned a lot with you and was so happy to find someone who had the same beliefs as him.

He absolutely loves things with herbs. It's his favorite thing. Mainly healing with herbs.

Gene loves thrifting, he likes to imagine the story behind every piece and believes that instead of buying more clothes, it’s way more healthy for the environment if everyone reutilizes clothes.

He was not a big fan of traveling before meeting you because he likes to stay where he feels comfortable the most, at home. But now he feels at home as long as you’re with him and he goes with you to every place you want to visit.

I hope you like it <333

#eugene roe #band of brothers #ship requests

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kyungwonrp · 2 years

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+ … // STUDENT PROFILE … LOADING

KIM YUNA, is 24 YEARS OLD and currently enrolled in kyungwon university. she is in her 1ST YEAR of the GRADUATE PROGRAM, majoring in CIVIL ENGINEERING with a minor in BUSINESS MANAGEMENT. she is notably in the STUDENT GOVERNMENT as PRESIDENT. she works as a TEACHER’S ASSISTANT and in CLUB FORA. you may find her in the HWAN RESIDENCE (ROOM #10).

+ ... // LOAD STUDENT BACKGROUND . . .

how is your family?

fine, you tell them with a smile. you talk about how your parents are still very happily married, falling in love with each other more and more each day, how their love seems to grow whenever they have to face any sort of obstacle together. however you don't mention the fact that each day those obstacles grow harder and greater, how they're barely holding on most likely because now they're the only thing that each other have. you don't tell them about the dark cloud that seemed to chase your parents for a while because of the mistake your father made that costed the whole family business and wealth.

instead you talk about your younger brother, how much he means to you because he's the only brother that you have and you can't shrug off the image of the baby she has basically raised as your own, molding him in the way that you thought was the best, because that's how you show your affection— how you show that you care. the last thing that you want is for your brother to suffer more than he has to, to be in need of things and get stuck not knowing how to get them. you also comment about how he's a freshman in kyungwon as well and how proud you're of him that he's pursuing higher education and as much as you're busy with your own academic duties and work, it's nice to have more opportunities to spend time with him.

you don't talk about how scared you actually are about yujin getting into university because you barely get enough money to maintain the lie that is your life now, imagine adding yujin's tuition to your bill. you don't talk about how strained your relationship became because you were only trying to get him a full scholarship and also because you don't need people's pity when they find out the truth about your family so you maintain a lie that yujin doesn't care for.

how is the business?

your smile falters just for the split of a second, but you still hold tightly to the mask that you're putting for this. fine, you repeat the same answer with the same smile. you talk about how your parents are considering a break from working so they can focus on their personal life for a while and perhaps even a change of career, so that's why they don't have their construction company anymore. you don't talk about how your father made the wrong bet and trusted the wrong people, that being the actual reason why the family business doesn't exist anymore. you don't talk about how you survived your senior year with the remaining money that they had in their bank account and the only reason you're doing your graduate program is because you managed to get a full scholarship.

you don't talk about how instead of a successful company, your parents hold a small restaurant of kbbq now just so they won't starve. you don't mention that you had to move and sell the house you used to live in and now the residence that your parents have is a small apartment in a not so noble part of seoul because that's what they can afford now nor about how you also moved apartments for a cheaper option even if it were to share the rent fees with a roommate.

how is university?

it's fun, you even chuckle. you talk about how it's interesting to meet all the different kind of people on campus and how you feel accomplished with every achievement that you get. you also admit that things are a little easier when you have money and status. you talk about how satisfying it is to feel like she's building the foundation to achieve her goals, to feel like she's making progress in life and can't wait to make her parents more and more proud everyday. however you don't mention about how it's exhausting to keep up the mask of effortless when you've been selling pieces of your soul everyday to make sure that you meet all your deadlines and have enough money to make ends meet at the end of the month.

you don't talk about how lonely you feel sometimes because of the walls that you built around yourself painted with the image of the perfect student government president and ta, the sweetheart of campus, how people are blissful unaware of how much she's drowning day in day out because of the expectations that she puts on herself, how suffocating it is to not have someone to share the weight she carries on her shoulders, someone to at least talk about it — but those thoughts are quickly shut down when she remembers that there's no point in people knowing anyway, that she's better off the way that she is now because at the end of the day her burdens are her own and there's no point in letting them in when they're nothing but yet another mean to her goals.

so you talk about how much you like your major (and your minor), how excited you're about finishing your graduate program, about your plans for the future that include building your own construction empire by yourself because you like the challenge and also to close another yet another cycle in your life.

#kw: accepted #choi yewon #arin #oh my girl

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frogtanii · 3 years

Text

℗ home

kenma x fem!reader (poker face ending)

series masterlist

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

wc. 2.9k (ahaha)

warnings. NOT PROOFREAD, liberal use of italics, soft soft, kenma in denial, allusions to marriage, bokuto and kuroo meddling, drinking, declarations of love, SMUT!!! (is marked off!), sub!kenma, handjob + blowjob, slightly insecure!kenma, meiko mentions, enthusiastic consent, one (1) katamari reference, vocal!kenma, uhh

an. good golly gee i HATE ending the endings m so bad at it AND the smut is lil weirder to skip??? like it’s not impossible or anything but it’s not as smooth as atsumu’s, m rlly sorry :((((( but i rlly hope y’all enjoy hehe don’t forget to feed me shawties :3

the loud obnoxious pop music blasting in the crowded bar around kenma made him want to fling himself into the moon at the nearest opportunity.

okay, so that was a little dramatic but the fact still stood.

he was crammed into a tiny booth with kuroo, bokuto, and akaashi, the former brushing up against him with every little movement, making kenma bristle in discomfort.

why the hell did i agree to this, kenma thought while sipping on his cranberry juice. he’d never enjoyed drinking, his true thoughts and feelings coming out way too easily once intoxicated. it was so infuriating being a lightweight, especially when everyone around him was disgustingly drunk.

“are you having fun kenma?” bokuto half yelled, half slurred into his ear from across the table. kenma slouched further into the booth’s stained cushions in response, his lack of answer not bothering bokuto in the slightest.

with the boisterous man’s attention successfully diverted by akaashi, kenma allowed his eyes to wander out over the dance floor but he wasn’t really paying them any mind. instead, his mind was occupied with none other than you.

it shouldn’t have been that surprising considering all the time he’d been spending with you recently. it had been a few months since the hyper house had disbanded and while you were enjoying your time living with your best friends, they had way too much sex. like an abnormal amount.

it had gotten to the point where you were having to abscond from the apartment four times a week because they were just so loud.

at first you had found refuge in the 24 hour cafe a few blocks from your place but falling asleep at a hard wood table only to have to walk home at 2am alone was terrible for your peace of mind (and your back).

you’d started complaining about it at your weekly animal crossing hang outs with kenma and he’d offered the brilliant solution of you coming over to his place when makki and mattsun were otherwise... occupied.

you were shocked at his suggestion and aptly so. it was no news that kenma absolutely hated hosting and having people over, especially since he was one of the few former members that were able to afford their own place straight out the gate.

when you’d expressed this, all he had said was, you’re different.

that wasn’t enough for you, evidenced by your once again nightly stays at the cafe but when you had to run home because someone was following you, you begrudgingly agreed to kenma’s offer and started sleeping at his house multiple times a week.

it was a bit to get used to at first, seeing you first thing in the morning with messy hair and sleep-swollen eyes. you were beautiful jarring. but, as time passed, he got used to your presence, making your drink of choice and sliding him his tea in the morning, sending him a soft smile that had him running to the bathroom to hide his blush.

it was all... strangely domestic.

even now, the thought of you in your threadbare sleep shirt, standing in his kitchen while cooking breakfast sent a wave of heat across his face, spreading up to the tips of his ears.

“what are you thinking about that’s got you so red?” kuroo teased, pulling the glass out of kenma’s hands, laughing at his annoying glare. he hoped he could ignore the question as he so often did, but apparently he wasn’t so lucky.

bokuto cackled in his seat before calling out your name, sending a chill of fear down kenma’s spine. “bet he’s thinkin about her! about how he wants to smooch her and maybe more,” he waggled his eyebrows, “i’m just saying!”

the rest of the table let out good natured laughs but kenma was preoccupied with replaying what bokuto had said.

i mean, sure he thought you were pretty, but anyone with eyes would agree! and yeah, maybe spending time with you was the highlight of his week, but it wasn’t his fault you were so genuinely enjoyable to be around. and of course, sometimes when it was late at night, his mind would wander to you and how it would feel to wake up beside you instead of across the hall from you and—

fuck. he liked you. a lot.

then, as if you somehow knew exactly what was on his mind (a terrifying thought to entertain), his phone buzzed in his hoodie pocket. he pulled it out quickly to check it and he hated how his heart picked up in his chest at the sight of your contact name.

[sussy baka <3]: wya shawty 🤨 u have no food in ur fridge n m hungry seen 13:20

[player ew]: s boys night seen 13:22

[sussy baka <3]: 😐

[sussy baka <3]: are u having fun seen 13:25

[player ew]: ... seen 13:28

[sussy baka <3]: yeah that’s what i thought

[sussy baka <3]: bring home some ramen <3 seen 13:31

home. god, if he didn’t like the sound of that coming from you. it took kenma no time at all to start packing up his things, ignoring the knowing looks on his friends faces as he tossed down a couple of bills for his drink and left to go home, where you were.

after stopping at the convenient store, he headed to his apartment building, shopping bag full of ramen in one hand and heart in the other.

no matter what he did, he couldn’t get bokuto’s annoying voice out of his head, telling him that he liked you. and now that he knew it was true? he was kind of spiraling.

the ding of the elevator managed to somehow shake him out of his thoughts, at least for him to get to his front door, but once it was open, all coherent brain activity immediately dissolved.

you were sitting on his couch in the living room, bundled up in one of his mario blankets and wearing one of his hoodies as you watched some animal documentary raptly, sheer disgust written all over your face.

kenma gulped.

he managed to work up the courage to actually enter his apartment, kicking off his shoes by the door and beelining towards the kitchen, not missing your excited call of his name and wide grin.

biting down any other unchecked feelings, he quickly set to work boiling the water for the ramen and then... stood there. boiling water would take a while and he knew he couldn’t avoid you forever but he really, really didn’t want to go sit by you with all these emotions sitting right on his chest.

“kenma, they’re gonna eat the seal!” you yelled from the couch, waving him over frantically. how was he supposed to say no to brutal animal murder on tv? kenma chuckled dryly at his own joke as he made his way over to where you sat, plopping himself on the side of the couch furthest away from you.

he told himself he just didn’t want to bug you when he had to go check the water but he knew it was a lie. he was running from his feelings, from anything that could ruin this.

you shot him a concerned look which he caught out of the corner of his eye but he kept his head firmly forward, unwilling to look at you if he didn’t have to. “kenma, what’s wrong? was boys night that bad?” you asked gently, and fuck if that didn’t make him feel worse.

kenma just shook his head, still choosing not to face you. you let out a long, arduous sigh before scooting across the couch and pressing yourself to his side, pulling his head down to rest on your chest while taking one of his hands into your own.

what the fuck. what the fuck?!1!?1!!?1!

you were so soft and warm and your arms around him made him feel things which was exactly what he was trying to avoid but then you actually started to speak and oh shit it got worse.

“kenma,” you started, running your hands through his deep brown locks, “you know you can talk to me about anything right?”

of course he knew that because this was you and you were so kind and considerate and badass and cool and that was all precisely why he couldn’t talk to you about everything, especially when it came to his emperor of the cosmos sized feelings for you.

but, instead of saying any of that, he allowed you to continue, his body relaxing into your hold against his will.

“i bother you because i care about you and i worry, you know. i know you’re strong and you can take care of yourself but i can’t help it...” if kenma was really listening, he would’ve heard the shakiness in your voice, the apprehension in your words but he didn’t. “i can’t help it because i like you, kenma.”

you... what?

kenma pushed himself off of you to look you in the face, to find any sign that you’re pranking him or just being cruel but he couldn’t find any.

still, he couldn’t take you at your word, after all who would like someone like him?

“say it again,” his voice comes just under a whisper, his words stilted and unsure but he needs to know, he needs to believe you. he wants to believe you.

“i like you.” you don’t use any big, flowery words, nor do you try and justify why you like him and still, somehow it’s enough. kenma’s eyes filled with tears as they’re trained on you but your eyes were occupied elsewhere.

staring at his lips.

“can i kiss you?” you asked softly, not pressuring or forceful but like that was truly just on your mind and you had to ask it. kenma wasn’t sure how he was supposed to resist when you asked him like that. “please,” was his response, already breathy and absolutely wrecked.

you obliged.

•••smut begin•••

surging forward, you pressed your mouth to his, soft lips meeting chapped ones as you moved them insistently against his own. kenma let out an embarrassing whine at the contact, his hands balling into fists by his sides.

yours, on the other hand, wandered, tracing over the hills and valleys of his chest and back before landing right under the hem of his hoodie. you pulled back, laughing quietly at the way he so eagerly chased your lips while halting him with a hand to his sternum.

“can i take this off?” kenma nodded enthusiastically before he could stop himself and you let out another soft huff as you busied yourself with getting him naked.

he tried to help you where he could, but he was ultimately resigned to bask in your movements, in your control as you manhandled him out of every article of clothing he was wearing until he was as naked as the day he was born.

immediately, the insecurities took hold of him, his mouth opening to stutter out an apology for how he looked. meiko’s voice played in his ears, reminding him he wasn’t what the girls went for being too skinny, too sensitive, too loud.

kenma moved to pick his clothes back up to cover himself before retreating to his room where he could die of shame but your firm hand kept him where he sat.

“you’re beautiful,” you said, like you were saying the sky was blue or the grass was green — as an irrefutable fact. your brows were furrowed at first but the expression melted away to show a softer one, one full of love, admiration, and... lust.

a high-pitched whimper left his lips at your gaze, his cock throbbing against his thigh. you grinned and moved back in to kiss him, your hand moving to his throat to hold him in place, his adam’s apple bobbing against your palm.

your other, unoccupied, hand traveled down his body to rub over a nipple, his back arching into your touch as his breath hitched against your mouth. you let out a hum of approval, continuing your ministrations of pinching and plucking the hard bud before moving further down to take a hold of his cock.

kenma broke away from you, a choked wail erupting from his chest as he bucked up into your grip. “can i make you feel good? can i show you how beautiful you are?” you asked earnestly, your thumb gently caressing his jaw.

“please, please, please,” he begged. under normal circumstances, he would be embarrassed at how easily he’d been folding for you, but it was so much easier to just submit to your capable and willing hands.

“good boy,” you tacked on mindlessly, your blown eyes and kiss-swollen lips only adding to your debauched look. internally, kenma preened at the fact that he was responsible for you looking like that, so feral like you just wanted to eat him up.

which was apparently exactly what you wanted to do, evidenced by you sliding onto your knees in front of him, pressing kisses and sucking marks into his pale thighs.

kenma’s hips stuttered beneath you as he watched you get closer and closer to his throbbing member, the tip already bright red and leaking precum.

suddenly, your eyes shot up to his, pinning him with an intense stare as you slowly, slowly brought him to your mouth, the wet heat enveloping the head before you closed your lips around him and sucked.

holy fucking shit.

his reaction was instantaneous. his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips bucked up into your mouth, and a filthy moan escaped from him as you started to get into a nice rhythm sucking his cock.

kenma could barely keep himself quiet, especially when you began toying with his balls, the feeling adding to the coil tightening in his gut.

you pulled all the way off of him before sucking him down the hilt, his mouth opening in a silent scream as you choked around his length, the pleasure that your throat was bringing while you pulsed around him was otherworldly.

he was going to die, he resigned. he was going to die by the biggest orgasm he’d ever had with his penis in your mouth and he was going to love every second of it.

a sharp tap to his inner thigh brought him back down to earth, this bleary eyes trying to focus on your face and once they did, he was taken aback. your eyes held such fondness, such love that he could hardly take it.

kenma couldn’t hold back his thoughts, especially under the intensity of your gaze, his mouth opening to gasp out, “i love you, shit, i love you.”

you pulled off him with a pop but you didn’t stop stroking him, your hand picking up the pace to the point that his thighs were quivering with the strength of his oncoming orgasm.

“say it again,” you threw his words right back at him and if he’d been in his right mind, he might’ve laughed but since he was drowning in pleasure, he immediately followed your orders, groaning out those three words over and over until he was hoarse.

you seemed to enjoy it, so much so that you took the palm of your hand and toyed with the sensitive tip of his cock, sending him right over the edge.

his vision whited out completely as he came with a loud cry of your name, tears trailing from his lashline from the sheer severity of his orgasm, one hand grasped tightly in yours.

•••smut over•••

as kenma came down from his high, he watched you brush his hair from his face before pressing a kiss to his hairline.

“you know, i love you too,” you stated, pulling him up to rest his spent body against your own. he scoffed while playing with your hand, toying with your bare ring finger in a way that you knew was deliberate.

“i figured, you just sucked my dick.” you protested loudly, smacking him gently on the arm when he snickered at your reaction. after your laughter died down, he rested his head back over your heart, listening to the steady beat thrumming beneath his ear.

your hands tangled back into his hair and he felt himself drifting off into dreamland when a loud meow startled him awake again. kyabia (or caviar) stared up at him with unblinking feline eyes, her tail swishing silently against the floor. “oh god, my cat is seeing me naked,” he gasped in horror, your chest heaving against his ear as you cackled.

kyabia quickly got bored and scampered off to who knows where and by that time, kenma was ready to knock back out. you were still laughing though and since you were his human pillow, that just wouldn’t do.

shoving you down on the couch, he buried his head in your chest and muttered a blunt, “sleep,” ignoring the way your giggle made a smile spread across his cheeks.

obviously, you could tell if your own matching grin was anything to go by but you let it be, instead choosing to wrap your arms around him and hold him tighter to your body, like you were trying to pour all your love into the embrace.

kenma only hoped that you would also “let it be” when you caught him ring shopping on his phone just a few weeks later.

it was only a matter of time. why delay when he loved you and you loved him? he knew he couldn’t wait until he could officially call you his.

after all, kozume yn had a nice ring to it.

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

A Special Kind of Man

this fic swap is for @safertokiss ... I really hope you like it, emma bc this was so fun to write lol

A/N: OMG! this is a part of my first fic swap and the first time I’ve done something like this with so many people, it’s been so cool.

Summary: Spencer Reid was a virgin, you knew that. What you didn’t expect however was how much he was really holding back.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: loss of virginity (spencer), mommy kink, penetrate sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

I always knew Spencer Reid was special, and sure, everyone he’s ever had a conversation with would look at this 24 year old kid spewing facts that no human would think to ever learn about, stockpiling knowledge about, well, everything. I’m sure he amazes people with his mind, I too am amazed when he opens his mouth and the exact number of a certain model Ford truck that is bought every year falls out.

But what else I knew about Spencer that made him more special, more worshipable was beyond anything anyone outside our closed doors would know, and my god would I ever be a fool if I didn’t do just that; worship him.

I would have continued to believe that somewhere down the line, someone would have been smart enough to give that man every piece of love and attention he deserves, because let me be perfectly candid, Spencer was beautiful. His jawline that never lacked the tension of holding back every nugget of knowledge he had stored in that beautiful brain of his, and the eyes like honey that stare up at me with an innocence and desperation alike every time I straddle his lap.

Spencer Reid was not only worth worshipping, but he believed that I deserve that kind of dedication and preach as well.

I never did quite ask if he was a virgin, but in the back of my mind I always knew he had been surrounded by blind fools his whole life in the way he grasped onto my body and whimpered in my mouth every time I perched myself onto him. He would never go further than heavy petting, which meant neither did I. Spencer may be worth worshipping, but I would never push him to receive such.

So, when we found ourselves entangled once again, my legs spread to wrap around his hips as he sat perched against the back of the couch, and I felt the coolness of his hesitant fingers snake their way under my shirt, I was surprised into pulling away from the heavy kiss we were sharing. Immediately his hands, that initially sent a chill hurtling up my spine only to fill me with warmth, returned back to my waist over the shirt, scared that he had done something wrong.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, looking down and rushing through the words with so much embarrassment and fear of my reaction as if I could ever imagine tantalizing or walking away from him.

“Do you want to?” I asked, and personally thanked whoever was listening that Spencer Reid was a profiler, because even if I wanted to, I couldn’t hide the lust in my eyes, or the breathiness to my voice. He had, unbeknownst to my partner here, left me having to take deep breaths and positively buzzing. Like I said, I always knew he was special.

“Put my hands under your shirt?” Came his reply, and I may have never been a profiler, but I could hear, behind the confusion, fear of my rejection plaguing his mind.

“Yes,” I whispered, my lips grazing his cheek where I placed a soft kiss. Spencer’s grip on me tightened as I moved towards his ear, subconsciously pulling my hips down onto him. “Whatever you want, pretty boy.”

“You!” The exclamation was a shout mixed with a gasp once I sunk my teeth into his ear lobe. At first, I had not thought to take Spencer’s words so seriously. We were in the heat of the moment, hands grasping onto one another and lips finding skin, but then my sweet boy pushed me far back only so he could look in my eyes with the confidence of a man who just won the lottery to state. “I want you.”

There were multiple things I took note of when looking down at Spencer. The first being that he had only taken his eyes off of my own in favor of glancing down at my lips, then back at me before raising his eyebrows in silent question. The second was that he had not stopped squirming underneath me, the hard on trapped in his work slacks having to be uncomfortable by now, and the every few seconds he found friction against my own clothed center could not have been helping as much as he needed.

The third, and final thing I noticed buried deep into blown pupils and wide, boyish eyes was the lust, desperation, the need for me the same I held for him. Spencer Reid wanted nothing more in this moment than to show me he was a good boy, a special boy.

“Are you sure?” I barely got through the last word before Spencer started nodding. “I need words, pretty boy.”

“Yes,” his tone was already breathy, and we haven’t even started. “Yes, please. I’m ready.”

I didn’t wait, grabbing a hold of my sweet boy’s cheeks and bringing his face down to meet our lips. The kiss was slow, passionate of course, but I wanted to take my time with him. The way I see this going is spending carefully calculated time on every part of his body, worshipping him and giving him all of my love in the form of soft bites and deliberate touches. Spencer Reid was handing me all of him, and I would be foolish not to return the favor.

Spencer and I were not going into this blind, because no matter how embarrassed he got, we somehow ended up having a very enlightening conversation in the past, even if at first it had started as a joke.

“Not everything Freud has said in his life was completely untrue,” was what started the argument. Spencer, in his oh so need to discredit the behaviorists and psychoanalysts of the past, jumped at the opportunity to prove me wrong, but I wasn’t going to let him this time. “While he may have gone about it the… wrong way, Freud was onto something.”

I had unbeknownst to Spencer got up from my seat, and was quietly tiptoeing over to him. “You don’t agree that you wouldn enjoy calling me Mommy in bed, pretty boy?”

“I-I um…” Is what ended the argument.

I pulled back, admiring his swollen lips and eyes fluttering open before pulling my shirt over my head, giving Spencer a full view of my now bare chest. The only way I could describe his face was similar to what I would imagine someone’s expression would be if they had made a groundbreaking discovery. His eyes grew wide and his jaw went slack in surprise, plus he didn’t hesitate to shift his gaze to my breasts. I could feel his hands loosen their grip on my waist, fingertips itching to move up my body to feel more of me.

“Can- can I touch them?” He whispered, not taking his eyes off the body part in question. Spencer was still looking at my chest in awestruck, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel the same way I thought of him.; beautiful, worshipable, special.

I nodded my head, grabbing onto Spencer’s wrists where his hands still remained at my sides and slowly dragged them up to chest. There was no more hesitation, he pressed his palms onto my breasts and grabbed them, pushing them together before kneading them.

“Oh my god, they’re s-so soft” he gasped, eyes blowing wide.“I w-want you. Please, M-”

Spencer stopped himself, and I could feel the muscles in his body tensing at the accidental slip of the name I so desperately wanted to pull from him now that I knew he felt the same about it.

“What was that?” I hummed against him, starting to softly grind our aching centers against each other, eliciting the sweetest moans from the sweetest boy while he continued to palm my breasts.

“Please. Mommy, please.” And there it was, my title for the evening and the reason for the growing wetness at my core.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” The buttons on his shirt were harder to undo than I would like to admit, his fingers that have moved on to tweak my nipples pulling my concentration and causing me to moan quietly as I worked. Eventually I accomplished getting his shirt open, and he helped me to push it off his shoulders and off of him.

I ran my hand down his chest, relishing the whimpers falling from his lips and my featherlight touch traveling further to the waistband of his pants.

“Bedroom,” I whispered, attempting to remove myself from his lap in favor of moving this party to a more comfortable place than the couch. Spencer had other plans.

“Wait,” he shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me back down on top of him. “I-I like it here.”

“On the couch, pretty boy?” It wasn’t that the position we were in wasn’t feasible, but this was Spencer’s first time. I wanted to make it as special as I could, starting with an actual bed.

“I want to be close to you.” If his words didn’t pull at my heartstrings, the way he looked down instead of in my eyes again did.

“Okay,” I agreed, and it was the truth, because the warmth spreading through me at the feeling of our bodies pressed so closely together was intoxicating. Spencer went to go unbutton my jeans, but I stopped him. Not because I didn’t want them off, but because he hadn’t realized that my plans for him included him sitting there and looking pretty like he always does. “Let me take care of you, sweet boy.”

I finished the job Spencer had started, getting up to unbutton my jeans and pull them down my legs. I heard him gasp at the sight of me now in only a pink thong before reaching out and making grabby hands at me. Instead of sitting back on his lap, I sunk to my knees on the floor, repeating the process on his work slacks and stripping him down to his boxers.

“Is this okay?” I asked, running my hands up and down his thighs in the most soothing manner. He responded with a hard nod and an ‘Yes, Mommy,’ shifting his hips closer to my hands in hopes that I would touch him where he craved the most. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t give him what he wanted. I didn’t use my hands, however, lowering my face to where there was an evident wet spot of precum on his boxers and placed a gentle kiss through the fabric on the tip of his dick.

Immediately his hands shot out to grab onto the sides of my face, forcing me away from his member to look up at him insead.

“I- I’m not going to last long like that,” he whispered. “Please, I need you, Mommy, please.”

I stood up, returning to my position perched onto his lap and smashing my lips to his. This kiss was much different than the ones we’ve shared previously, it was rushed, uncalculated and heavy. Tongues fought against each other and I caught his little whimpers in my mouth every time our cores rubbed against each other.

I grabbed onto the waistband of his boxers, asking one last time if he was sure. When I got his permission, I pulled them down to reveal himself to me, and my god was he beautiful. The tip was red and leaking precum, and I used my thumb to gather some and bring it to my mouth. Spencer’s jaw went slack again, watching me suck his cum off my digit and not taking my eyes off his own. I shifted once again to hover over him, pulling my panties to the side.

“Are you ready?” I asked, grabbing his hard cock and readying the tip to my entrance. He attempted to buck his hips up and enter me, but I continued to tease him by rubbing my wetness over him without entering just yet.

“Yes. Please, Mommy.” I sunk down, reveling in the way his eyes grew wide and his hands shot up to grab onto any part of me. Slowly, I inched down, feeling the stretch he provided and we both were moaning at the feeling.

“Is this okay?” I asked once more, getting a nod and a gasp at the feeling of me around him in return. His hips were trying to buck up into me, but I wouldn’t let him, lifting up slowly and slamming back down to the hilt.

“Oh my god,” he praised once again, screwing his eyes shut and panting. I picked up a rhythm bouncing on his cock with feaverish intent, neither of us were going to last long, both of us hypersensitive to each other.

Spencer opened his eyes, and couldn’t find where to look. He started with my breasts bouncing in his face with my increased speed, and moved on to where our bodies met, watching himself disappear into me. Lastly, he stopped at my face, finding me already staring down at him with my mouth agape and mewls escaping me.

From there we gazed into each other’s eyes, Spencer not holding back any of his sweet moans and gasps that sounded like garbled versions of my name. The knot in my stomach tightened further when I shifted slightly and felt his tip graze my sweet spot. He must have been close to, his hips thrusting up softly to meet my own in an attempt to chase his high. I reached down to rub my clit, wanting to fall off the edge together.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” he panted out, and I clenched around him at the sound of him whimpering. “Ah- ah ah, Mommy please!”

I increased the pressure on my clit, the coil in my stomach reaching its end when I shouted “Cum with me, pretty boy.”

Spencer’s hands gripped onto my waist with bruising pressure as we reached our highs together, crashing down with a shout of each other’s name as I felt his cum cover my pulsing walls. The feeling was indescribable, extending my orgasm and milking him for everything he has.

I slumped forward, resting my head against his sweaty shoulder as we attempted to catch our breaths. Spencer’s arms wrapped around me fully, pulling me closer to him and nuzzling his face into my neck, the sentiment making me smile.

“Are you okay?” I asked once our breathing returned to normal and the cloudiness of my post organsm brain melted. He just pulled me impossibly closer, laying kisses on the expanse of my neck he could reach.

“I’m more than okay. That was- that was-”

“Yeah, I know.” I giggled at his awestruck tone, mimicking his movements and nuzzling deep in his neck, breathing in his sweet scent.

Like I said, Spencer Reid was a special kind of man.

___

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panda-writes-kpop · 3 years

Text

Vampire! JiU - (You’re Not) One of Us (Requested!)

A/N: Hi guys, girls, and non-binary pearls! I hope you all are doing well. This is one of my favorite works, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Word Count: 1,512

TW: Food, Violence (JiU smacks a guy with a chair), threats

You close your eyes and let the music guide your movements.

I guess this isn’t the worst way to spend my birthday.

You sigh as the made-up birthday party in your head disappears, and you realize that you’re still alone in your small city apartment.

Yeah, this is the worst way to spend my birthday. I know that I moved to the city a few months ago, but why didn’t I think to make any friends? I left everything behind just to chase my dream career, and where has it left me? Alone and listening to my favorite music while dreaming of a different life. Why is my life so sad?

You let out an exhausted breath while pulling the earbuds out of your ears.

Well, I guess that there’s no time like the present to make new friends.

You quickly gather your things and head for your door.

I hope that I’ll find a new future somewhere out here.

A coffee shop that’s open at 11 p.m.? That sounds kinda weird, but I might as well try it.

After realizing that every other place was closed at this hour, and you didn’t really feel like clubbing, you ended up standing in front of a coffee shop. Instead of the welcoming, homely vibes that most coffee shops had, this coffee shop looked like it was built during the Victorian Era with lots of extravagant decorations on the outside of the building. There weren’t any windows, but there was a sign that read: Coffee Shop, Open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

I guess it’s better than nothing.

You approach the door and let your hand fall onto the handle. A sense of dread fills your stomach, but you quickly waved it away.

What’s the worst that could happen?

A soft breeze tickles your neck, and you take that as a sign to walk inside.

Here goes nothing…

As expected, the eerie outside of the building matches the inside perfectly. The wallpaper is a deep purple with a few candle holders scattered across the four walls. All of the furniture is completely black, with a few tables that are covered in a layer of dust.

Did I just walk into an abandoned building?

The smell of sweet baked goods dismisses the thought in your mind, and you quickly approach the see-through counter. There’s an assortment of coffee machines, but none of them quite look alike.

That’s weird. I could swear that some of them look like they belong in a history museum.

You see a small metal bell to your left that looks like it’s seen better days, and you decided to give it a ring.

Might as well. I’m starving, and the smell of that food isn’t helping.

“Oh, I’ll be right with you!” A sweet voice rings out from behind a black door that you didn’t see before.

“It’s okay, please take your time.” You call out to the voice, and she giggles in response.

“You’re quite the friendly customer, aren’t you? Most people like us aren’t that patient.”

Like us? What does she mean by that?

The woman then begins humming, and you can hear her voice get closer. The door slowly opens to reveal a woman about your age holding a plate of sweets in one hand, and a pitcher of coffee in the other.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I-” The woman gasps as her eyes meet yours.

“You’re not one of us…”

“So you’re not one of those vampire hunters?” The woman inquires while clearing off a table for you to sit at.

“Those exist?!?” You look at her in befuddlement while she laughs once again.

That laugh has got to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

“Of course they do. We’ve all been doing a great job at keeping ourselves hidden over the centuries.” She smiles brightly at you as your face flushes red.

She’s beautiful…

“Oh, where are my manners!” She scolds herself. “I’m JiU, and you would be?”

Wow, I cannot believe that I walked into a pretty vampire’s coffee shop. What are the odds? ...Why is she staring at me? Did she say something?

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You quickly introduce yourself, hoping that was what she wanted to hear.

“A great name for a gorgeous person.” JiU winks before gesturing you to sit down. “The food’s on the house.”

She’s pretty AND kind?!? I’ve hit the jackpot!

You couldn’t let yourself only make one trip to JiU’s shop, so it became a weekly occurrence for you to stop in and see her. The food was great, but seeing and talking to JiU was the best part. She’d always have a bright smile on her face when you’d stop by. After a few months, you felt the attraction to JiU grow stronger and stronger, so you just had to say something. You wanted to prepare some big plan, but you decided that it would be best to just walk in and tell her how you feel.

The late night breeze accompanies you as you walk to JiU’s shop. You basically have the route memorized in your mind at this point.

Two lefts, one right, and walk down a block until I see the gargoyles outside of her shop.

You watch the night sky twinkle with a beautiful display of stars. It occurs to you to take a picture before they fade away.

I’m sure that JiU would love this.

As you approach her shop’s door, you notice a figure dressed in all black enter before you.

Huh, that’s weird. JiU said that she doesn’t usually have customers at this hour. I wonder what’s up with this person?

You shrug off the nervous feeling in your stomach as you walk in the door.

I’m sure it’s nothing.

You let the door slam shut behind you, and the figure has once again become visible. Their whole body snaps around, and you can see a red tint in their eyes.

Something tells me that this is a vampire.

You don’t move a muscle as the figure approaches you. You can’t make out any distinguishing features beneath their all-black attire. All you can see is their glaring red eyes.

“Aren’t you just a fragile thing? I thought humans knew not to come around these parts at night.” The figure’s voice has a creepy yet charming sound to it. “Oh well, I guess I could use a midnight snack.”

The figure is nearly within a foot of you before you hear footsteps approaching.

“Hey, read the sign!” JiU shouts while running over to you.

“What sign?” The figure looks confusedly at JiU before looking back at you.

“That one.” JiU points at a blank space on the wall, and the person lets their eyes wander over there.

“I don’t see any-” Their voice is cut off by the slamming of a chair against something.

Oh my god.

With the person on the floor, and JiU holding onto half of a chair leg, it doesn’t take you long to figure out what happened.

Are vampires seriously that strong?

JiU drops the chair leg and runs over to you. Once she reaches you, she cups your face with her hands while looking you over. You can’t help but blush at the close proximity of your faces.

“Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, right?” You nod, which causes JiU to sigh in relief.

“Thank goodness. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t okay.” She quietly mutters the last part while taking her hands off of your face.

“Who was that?” You ask curiously. You take the opportunity to slip your hands in JiU’s, and she seems to lighten up when your hands are in hers.

“I’m not sure, but if that vampire is like most of us, then you’re not safe.” JiU looks you in the eyes, and you know that she’s dead serious.

“Not safe? Why am I not safe?”

“Vampires stay in groups, and since we fought one, the whole group will end up coming after us. It won’t take them long to find a human like you.” JiU explains while squeezing your hands.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” You look at her nervously, hoping to get some sort of answer.

“Come and stay with me. I live with a welcoming group of vampires, and I’m sure that they’ll love you as much as I do.” You nod along with every one of JiU’s words.

She’s offering for me to stay with her, and she’s expecting me to say no. I don’t know what to do, but if it’s for my safety, then I should stay with her.

“Okay.” You let your eyes meet hers. “I’ll go with you.”

JiU smiles as she leads you towards the back of the shop. “And one last thing, Y/N, before we go.”

“What is it?” You look at her curiously.

“I’ll always consider you to be one of us, no matter what happens.”

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

i feel like you write really good arguments, as a few people have brought up before, where the parties make mistakes but own up to them and acknowledge the other side. Same thing with Captain Sirius- his reprimands are always respectful. It feels mature and just well-thought out. But we know Sirius wasn't always like that, because he came to dumo's house knowing arguments=violence. Would you write a fic where Sirius learns how to argue/captain? maybe from Dumo-the-parent? Does that make sense?

Father-son bonding on this fine Thursday! I love it! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

Dumo’s phone rang halfway through his lunch, which wasn’t unusual, except for the fact that it was Sirius calling and not…well, literally anyone else. Sirius seemed rather allergic to his phone—text replies often went unanswered for an average of 3 hours, and he wasn’t sure he had ever managed to reach Sirius on the first ring. Concern flickered in his chest and he lifted it to his ear.

“H—”

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius said, breathless. “Hi, hello, it’s me—uh, it’s Sirius—and I was just calling to ask for some help because I’m the captain now—you know that, what am I doing—and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do and I’m kind of—”

“Sirius,” Dumo interrupted as soon as his astonishment faded. He had never heard Sirius say so many words in so little time. Silence fell on the other end of the line. “Sirius, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, then tell me what you need.”

Another beat of quiet passed. “So, I’m the captain now.”

“You are.”

“And the guys really like you, but I don’t even know where to start, so I was hoping you could give me a hand with this.”

“With what?”

“How do I make people like me?” Sirius asked, sounding uncharacteristically timid.

Dumo paused, confused. “They already do.”

“But I’m the captain now. They have to like me more, right?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughing and laying down to stave off a headache. “Why don’t you come over and we can talk in person, alright?”

“Right.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, about that.”

“Sirius. Are you—are you currently on my porch?”

“…maybe.” Dumo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

“You have a key.”

“I thought it would be rude to just let myself in.”

“Oh my god,” Dumo muttered, rising from his chair with a huff. The autumn wind howled as he opened the front door, stripping the trees of their leaves and turning Sirius’ cheeks vivid red as he stood on the top step with the phone still at his ear and anxiety written all over his face.

“Bonjour.”

“You can hang up the phone now.”

Sirius bit his lip and slid it back into his pocket, waiting awkwardly until Dumo motioned him inside and he hurried out of the chill. “Thanks for picking up, by the way.”

“Of course. I’ll always pick up the phone for you.” He guided him toward the kitchen with a hand on his shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Still so polite. The coffeepot was still warm from Celeste’s late breakfast, and Sirius’ eyes grew wide at the steam curling off the top when Dumo handed him a mug to wrap his frozen hands around before sitting across from him. “Back to business. Number one: the team already likes you, and you need no help from me getting their approval. Got it?”

Sirius nodded and took a sip.

“Number two: If you ever need my help, please don’t wait on the front porch in freezing weather when you could just knock.” A sheepish smile twitched at the side of his mouth and Dumo shook his head. “I won’t be responsible for your hypothermia. Now, what did you want advice about?”

Sirius let out a slow breath. “I don’t want to be the hardass captain that everyone hates. I just—this is an amazing opportunity, but honestly I just want my friends.”

Dumo hummed, even as his heart panged. “At the risk of sounding vague, the way to do that is to not be a hardass in the first place. Be a leader instead.”

“But I have to tell them what to do—”

“—and a leader does that the right way. There’s a difference between being a leader and being a tyrant. Push them to be better, but don’t be cruel about it. Set an example through the things you do, not the things you make other people do.” He touched the back of his hand gently and Sirius’ eyes flickered over. “Don’t lead through fear, but through respect.”

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s why you called me, non?” He waited until he saw the small smile return. “Alright, how would you approach a situation where one of your teammates is lagging behind in their speed trials?”

Sirius blinked. “Tell them to do better?”

Different tactic. “How did your coaches talk to you when you lagged behind in your speed trials?”

“…told me to do better.”

Orion Black, I will break your kneecaps the next time I see you. Dumo poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “That may have been a strategy for you, but for someone who is already trying their best, it could be very discouraging. They might resent you for trying to seem better than them.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed. “But I’m not.”

“I know. But they wouldn’t. In my opinion, the best course of action would be to ask what’s wrong, and how you can help. It might not get better overnight, but that teammate will trust that you can help them with their problem and will know that you care about them.”

“So I should just let them fail for a while?”

“You push them toward success gradually, and don’t berate them for any hiccups along the way. Failure can bring growth.”

His mouth set into a line of frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not explaining this right,” Dumo muttered, chewing the inside of his lip. How to explain to the new leader of your team what leadership is... “Let’s put it this way. You want Pots and Harzy to run a specific play, but they don’t understand it. How do you fix it?”

Sirius started to answer, then closed his mouth and thought for a moment, staring into the depths of his coffee. “I…I would walk them through it section by section, because I know they’re smart, but they might have problems with different parts.”

Dumo wondered if the room had actually become brighter, or if the pride in his heart was just shining through into the real world. “Exactly. And afterward, when they get it right?”

“High-five and run it again.”

“Now you’re getting it!” Something more difficult... “What if Kuny and Nado won’t shut up during Coach’s breakdown?”

“Tell them to be quiet.”

“But then Nado calls you a buzzkill and starts whispering to Kuny, and giving you looks.” Sirius’ whole face fell; if Dumo wasn’t so committed to making sure he got it right, he would’ve felt bad. “What do you do, Sirius?”

“Apolo—”

“No. People don’t respect those who apologize every time they face pushback.”

“But you said I need them to like me.”

“You need them to respect you. They don’t have to like you at all hours of the day.” He poked him lightly on the chest. “It’s your job to keep the team in line, now, and that means being a bit of a buzzkill sometimes. Not an asshole. Just a leader. What do you do if they start whispering about you?”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “Tell them to cut it out again,” he said grudgingly.

“And if they don’t?”

“Can I make them run laps after the meeting?”

“Yep. How many?”

“Three, because I had to ask three times.” He frowned. “And they should run at separate times, otherwise they’ll keep talking. God, they really don’t shut up, do they?”

That’s rich coming from you, Mr.-Chats-with-Pots-24/7. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself—that wasn’t what today was about. “Good job, Sirius.”

“Really?”

“Oui. If you lay down the rules early, you won’t have to keep correcting mistakes. They won’t want to disappoint you in the first place.”

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he said quietly.

“You won’t.” If there was one thing Dumo was sure of, it was that Sirius would be the best captain the Lions ever had. “Ready for the toughest part?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready?” he asked again.

Sirius swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t like the way you’re captaining this team.”

From the look on his face, Dumo might as well have whacked him over the head with a spatula. “What?”

“I don’t think you have the guts.”

A combination of hurt and anger flashed in his eyes. “Hey!”

Dumo prodded him on the shoulder. “You’re not going to be able to stick up for yourself when it comes down to it. You can’t say no to your friends.”

“I can!”

“Then do it,” he challenged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re—” Sirius pressed his lips together and stood up. “Fuck you. I came to you for help—”

Dumo rose as well, leaning forward half an inch. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you can captain the shit out of this team.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Say it like you mean it!”

“You’re wrong!” Sirius repeated as his jaw set, louder. “I’m going to captain the shit out of this team and fuck you for thinking I can’t!”

“But I don’t like it!” Though they were both shouting at each other, Sirius’ defensiveness and timidity in the face of conflict were nowhere to be found.

“That’s not my problem!” His cheeks were turning pink again, but not from the cold. “I’m the captain, so you either listen to me or tell me what the hell your problem is!”

“There you go!” Dumo cheered, stepping around the table to crush him in a hug. “That was perfect.”

Sirius went still with befuddlement. “What?”

“You didn’t believe you could captain this team until just now, did you?” He stepped back and held Sirius’ shoulders, beaming. “You just did exactly what you were supposed to do. You cannot let yourself be pushed around if you want to lead and keep your friendships strong. I am so, so proud of you.”

Sirius stared at him in shock for a moment, then moved forward again and rested his chin on Dumo’s shoulder as he pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

“You are going to do great things, Sirius. I’m just glad I could help.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Dumo smiled and patted his back, giving him a squeeze. “Yes, you could. That’s how I know you will.”

#sirius black #pascal dumais #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #captain lessons #dumo

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asthmark · 3 years

Text

❝ chemistry ❞ o.st

synopsis → osaki shotaro moving to town means trips to the dance studio, boba dates, and the perpetual teasing of lee donghyuck.

pairing → shotaro, reader

requested? → yes! based off @onlyjihoons’s shipping game answer ♡

word count → 5.5k (this was supposed to be 1k.... goodbye.)

a/n → i enjoy writing texting scenes WAY too much ;; tbh this is like 50% texts im cryign but i had to convey how much i love 00 line .... and also how firmly i believe in lee donghyuck devil supremacy. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated and enjoy!

if someone were to ask you how you felt about your friends, you would without any hesitation, answer that you loved them to death. of course, if you were being completely honest, you would also have to add that you experienced the urge to strangle them from time to time. that might earn you a couple odd stares but you’re sure people would be more understanding if they knew who was in your inner circle to begin with.

for starters, there was lee jeno — tall, handsome, and the textbook definition of a gentleman. then, na jaemin, who you would consider to be the yin to jeno’s yang. an extremely energetic guy and, in your book, a total freak of nature ever since you found out that he inhales four shots of espresso on the daily. liu yangyang was a more recent addition to your group but, being as quick-witted as he was, he quickly fit right in. he also had a habit of going on somewhat aggressive rants in german which renjun found to be extremely amusing. speaking of, huang renjun was another one of your close friends — the shortest of the group, actually. (and, much to renjun’s dismay, that’s exactly how donghyuck liked to introduce him to people.) he was the type of guy you could trust to keep everyone in check which consequently made you mildly terrified of him.

however, it could never compare to the perpetual fear you have of lee donghyuck.

of course, you love him to pieces but sometimes you really wish he didn’t find so much joy in, well, making everyone miserable. you couldn’t deny it was funny to watch him tease and taunt your other friends. you still remember him purposefully messing up renjun’s game at the local arcade just when he was about to reach his high score — and also the way renjun had tackled him to the floor right then and there, resulting in the six of you being banned from the place. or, that time he offered to pay for everyone’s starbucks orders only to tell the barista that jaemin’s name was ben dover. (to no one’s surprise, yangyang had found that joke particularly hilarious.) you can also clearly recall how hard you had laughed in both of those situations.

but, donghyuck never let anyone laugh for too long.

according to him it was ’only fair’ to make sure each of his friends was at the receiving end of his gags. so, despite laughing at his latest victim’s expense, each of you knew that donghyuck would make sure you were in the same position sooner or later.

you definitely weren’t expecting it to be your turn one dull friday evening.

things are going slow for you as you sit at your desk, typing away on your laptop. school has been out for hours and your professors have decided to be saints and leave you little homework for the weekend. beside you, your phone dings, alerting you of the new text message in your group chat.

[4:23 pm] hyuck: i’m bored 🥺

[4:23 pm] you: plz never use that emoji again

[4:24 pm] nana: it’s misleading dude

[4:25 pm] yangx2: yeah like when have u ever made a face that isn’t this 😈

[4:25 pm] renjun: donghyuck is the devil = confirmed

[4:25 pm] nana: CALLED IT

[4:26 pm] hyuck: u guys are literally so evil

jeno laughed at “u guys are literally so evil”

[4:27 pm] jeno: look who’s talking lol

[4:27 pm] you: dangg u know it’s bad when lee jeno disses u

[4:28 pm] jeno: ...ngl it kinda feels like ur shading me rn

[4:28 pm] you: u would be correct :)

[4:29 pm] hyuck: um HELLO can u guys go back to paying attention to me???

[4:29 pm] renjun: what do u want, diva?

[4:29 pm] hyuck: i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(

renjun disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

yangx2 disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

you disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

nana disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

jeno disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

[4:30 pm] hyuck: OH COME ON

[4:30 pm] yangx2: i think what u meant to say is that u wanna make one of us very miserable today, right?

[4:30 pm] hyuck: .....no comment

nana renamed the group chat “hyuck hate club”

[4:31 pm] hyuck: ok i’m honestly feeling so attacked right now

[4:31 pm] jeno: well now u know what it’s like to be friends with u

[4:31 pm] you: so true king omg ur on a roll

[4:32 pm] hyuck: hmm okay so either jeno or y/n is gonna be today’s target, got it

[4:32 pm] hyuck: anyway can u guys come down to the dance studio now??

[4:32 pm] you: what makes u think i would go anywhere near u when i know ur plotting ur revenge on me as we speak

[4:32 pm] hyuck: because maybe i’ll have mercy on u and just terrorize jeno instead

[4:33 pm] you: good enough for me! thnx bestie, see u soon!!

[4:33 pm] jeno: HEY

nana laughed at “good enough for me! thnx bestie, see u soon!!”

[4:34 pm] yangx2: u literally cannot trust anyone in this friend group

[4:34 pm] renjun: ikr isn’t it great???

you might have been slightly out of your mind to willingly go see donghyuck knowing you had teased him in your group chat earlier. although, if there was a slight chance he would show you mercy if you did hang out with him, you were going to take it.

the studio was where you had first met donghyuck, along with the rest of your friends due to the dance classes you attended. after bumping into each in between classes and during practice, you began to get well acquainted. turns out, the six of you actually got along incredibly well and after a while, you began to share routines and tips, even choreographing together from time to time. obviously, this led to the infamous group chat being formed and lots of time spent outside the studio as well.

but, none of you had lost that love for dancing. in fact, forming your little clique had only made it grow. as you opened the front doors of the building you had made so many memories in, you wondered if donghyuck wanted your insight on a certain routine or needed some help choreographing. of course, there was also the possibility that he really was just bored and wanted you to suffer with him.

what you did not expect, however, was to see him caught up in conversation with another person. you couldn’t clearly see them with donghyuck in the way; all you knew for certain was that your best friend’s mouth was moving a mile a minute. you tentatively tiptoe into the room, hoping to not intrude on their discussion. but, at hearing the doors creak open, donghyuck puts his rant on pause to enthusiastically wave you over.

you sigh, putting your belongings down and approaching the pair. as you near, you notice that hyuck has a huge smile — no, smirk — on his face. you internally curse yourself for believing that he would ever pass up an opportunity to torment you, especially in front of a stranger.

“this is a very dear friend of mine,” you hear him introduce to his acquaintance. “her name is y/n. she dances, too.”

“oh, that’s really cool!”

the stranger’s unusually cheery tone prompts you to finally peek behind donghyuck and put a face to the voice.

and what a face he has.

“this is shotaro,” donghyuck informs you. “he’s new to town and quite the dancer. caught him in the middle of a routine.”

your knees almost wobble as you take in the stranger — shotaro’s — kind eyes that almost sparkle. (you aren’t sure if it’s because of the fluorescent lights of the studio or just part of his charm.) his lips are curved up into a friendly smile that makes you feel slightly giddy. his hair falls into his face almost perfectly, not a strand out of place and you’re uncertain as to how that’s even possible since, as donghyuck had said, he was dancing. not to mention, there’s not a bead of sweat on his face. did this guy come straight out of a disney movie or something?

“excuse her,” donghyuck chuckles. “good looking people tend to make her freeze up. don’t worry, this happened when she met me, too.”

you offer your friend a glare and an elbow to the side and you swear you hear shotaro chuckle. you turn to him instead, putting on a welcoming smile.

“my bad, i just—”

“got lost in his eyes?”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “donghyuck, please don’t make me have to attack you in front of our guest.”

more giggles escape shotaro. (you swear it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard.) you curiously tilt your head at him.

“sorry, it’s just that, you guys are too funny,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

you mirror his grin, slightly relieved he was amused instead of weirded out. “yeah, well, just wait ’til you meet the rest of us. it’s like a circus show, you’ll love it.”

“hello, clowns!”

“speak of the devil,” donghyuck murmurs, watching as yangyang and renjun enter, followed by jeno and jaemin.

“woah, who’s the cutie?” yangyang asks renjun, in what you presume he thinks is a whisper. however, yangyang has never spoken quietly a day in his life. renjun simply shrugs at his question.

having clearly heard the compliment, a faint blush creeps onto shotaro’s cheeks.

“guys, this is shotaro,” donghyuck answers, tugging the sandy blonde forward.

he gives a somewhat shy wave. “hi, y/n’s friends.”

jaemin erupts into laughter. “uh oh, looks like he likes y/n more than hyuck.”

“don’t blame him,” jeno mutters.

shotaro’s forehead creases, face suddenly twisted in worry. “oh, i’m sorry, was i not supposed to say that?”

“oh no, don’t worry,” donghyuck denies, quickly. “i’m sure y/n doesn’t mind at all, right?”

if you could crawl into a hole to avoid the embarrassment, you would. of course, donghyuck was 100% right; you really didn’t mind shotaro calling the group that if it meant you could hear him say your name over and over again. in fact, his sweet voice could probably make the dictionary sound like the most addictive song. but, donghyuck had no right putting you on the spot like that.

jeno suddenly speaks, catching on to your flustered state and donghyuck’s evil grin. “so, it’s y/n’s turn today? sweet, i’m off the hook!”

shotaro furrows his brows slightly. “huh?”

“oh, it’s just an inside joke,” jeno says, smile reaching all the way up to his eyes.

you wish you could strangle him right then and there for finding amusement at your expense but the last thing you want is for shotaro to think you’re some sort of psychopath. (although, with a friend group like this, you’re definitely beginning to think that’s where you’re headed.)

“got it,” shotaro responds, breaking out into a grin himself. “you guys seem like a really close bunch!”

“the closest,” donghyuck corrects, overly sweet, as he wraps an arm around you. (you resist the urge to shove him off.) “you’ll fit right in!”

you believed that the torture was over the day donghyuck introduced shotaro to your group. you would probably just see him from time to time and the studio (hopefully without hyuck around) and it would all be downhill from there, right? the latest notification on your phone alerts you that you are absolutely wrong.

hyuck has added one (1) user to the group chat

[1:05 pm] hyuck: welcome shotaro!!

[1:06 pm] unknown: oh hey guys! :]

the emoticon almost makes your heart beat right out of your chest. you roll your eyes in frustration at how easily affected you were by this guy. seriously, why did everything he do have to be so cute? regardless, you quickly add his number to your contacts.

[1:06 pm] hyuck: why don’t we do a little roll call so shotaro can save ur numbers to his phone

[1:07 pm] yangx2: YANGYANG

[1:07 pm] yangx2: HA I WAS FIRST

[1:07 pm] jeno: ...

[1:08 pm] jeno: anyway this is jeno :)

[1:08 pm] nana: jaemin present!

[1:08 pm] renjun: hi shotaro, this is renjun

[1:10 pm] shotaro: haha cool thanks a lot, i just saved all ur numbers!

[1:10 pm] shotaro: but quick question, is y/n in this group chat? :0

you almost drop your phone at reading shotaro’s message although you’re unsure why. he just typed your name, get it together, you urge yourself.

[1:11 pm] you: heyy shotaro! i’m right here :)

[1:11 pm] shotaro: oh yayy! i’m so glad ^^

hyuck disliked “oh yayy! i’m so glad ^^”

[1:12 pm] hyuck: shotaro plz return my love what does she have that i don’t T-T

[1:12 pm] nana: a heart

[1:12 pm] yangx2: a brain

[1:12 pm] jeno: a conscience

[1:12 pm] renjun: a functioning moral compass

[1:13 pm] hyuck: wtf

[1:13 pm] shotaro: ahahaha it’s like i’m watching a comedy

[1:14 pm] you: told u it’s a circus

[1:14 pm] you: i say get out while u still can

[1:14 pm] shotaro: whaatt and leave u behind? no way!

nana renamed the group chat “shotaro x y/n supremacists”

[1:15 pm] jeno: my thoughts exactly

[1:15 pm] renjun: took the words right out of my mouth

you cringe at your friends’ blunt behavior, praying shotaro didn’t find their antics to be too strange.

[1:16 pm] shotaro: 😳

[1:16 pm] nana: aww someone’s shy

[1:17 pm] renjun: he wouldn’t last a day in itzy

[1:17 pm] yangx2: HELPP

you shake your head, laughing silently to yourself as you mute the group chat and place your phone back down. although, moments later, you receive a direct message. you presume it’s one of the boys trying to rope you back into the chat but the moment you see the contact name, you’re forced to do a double take.

[1:21 pm] shotaro: i hope i’m not bothering u but i just wanted to make sure ur okay .. you kinda went quiet in the gc :>

[1:21 pm] shotaro: it’s shotaro from the dance studio btw!

you can’t help but find the fact that he seriously thought you wouldn’t remember him adorable. how could you ever forget a face like his?

[1:22 pm] you: that’s so kind! i’m okay, i promise. i’ve just had to put up with those dorks for way too long, sometimes i just ignore them haha

[1:22 pm] shotaro: lol yeah they do seem like a handful! but i look forward to getting to know them better!!

[1:23 pm] shotaro: and u too ofc~~

it takes all your willpower not to spam dozens of heart emojis in an attempt to show shotaro just how he has reduced you to a lovesick fool. instead, your response is short and sweet.

[1:23 pm] you: right back at u, taro! ♡

“okay, take five,” donghyuck pants, pausing the music blaring from the speakers.

you gladly obey, wiping away the light sweat you had worked up from the latest routine you and hyuck were constructing.

you both belonged to the same dance class and frequently paired together for partnered projects. the rest of your friends attended different classes, which you constantly joked was for the best since there was no way one dance instructor could possibly handle the six of you together.

“how do you feel?” donghyuck asks you, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“the choreo’s great, i’m proud of what we got so far,” you reply. “of course, i would be happier if i didn’t have to get so up close and personal with you.”

donghyuck scoffs at your joke. “i can’t do anything about that. the teacher said the whole concept of the routine is supposed to be is intimate.”

you fake a gag, failing to contain a laugh when hyuck playfully shoves you in offense.

“i’m sorry i can’t be shotaro,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips.

you roll your eyes. “oh, very funny.”

“c’mon, you’re acting like you wouldn’t kill to have him as your partner, especially with choreo as spicy as this.”

“well, it would beat being paired with you,” you remark, picking up your water bottle and taking a swig.

“hm, then looks like today might be your lucky day,” donghyuck replies, eyes trained somewhere behind you.

you follow his gaze, nearly choking on your water as soon as you catch sight of shotaro entering the studio. he meets your eyes, plucking out his earbuds and offering you a small wave.

“oh, hey guys!” he exclaims, cheerfully.

“hey ’taro,” you greet, rather quickly, earning you a knowing glance from your partner.

“’taro?” hyuck repeats, amused, as he folds his arms over his chest. “you guys are already on cute nickname basis?”

shotaro giggles, eyes squinting adorably as he does so. “it is a pretty adorable nickname, right? she’s the only one who calls me that!”

your heart beats faster when you see how oddly excited that seems to make him. did he somehow find it endearing?

“seems like the two of you are becoming quite close, hm?” continues hyuck.

shotaro nods enthusiastically before glancing at you tentatively, as if to check for confirmation.

“yeah, you could say that.”

your agreement causes yet another smile to grace shotaro’s lips — this time he seems relieved. you briefly wonder if the kid ever stops flashing those pearly whites of his. you certainly hope so, or else your heart may never catch a break.

“well, since you’re comfortable enough with each other,” donghyuck begins, flashing you a grin.

you’re not even sure what he’s gonna say but you already feel the need to put an end to it. after all, nothing good has ever come of donghyuck’s mischievous grins. you subtly purse your lips and narrow your eyes in an attempt to get him to stop whatever chaos he’s planning to ensue.

nevertheless, he proceeds. “maybe you could help me out with this choreography?”

you want to facepalm at donghyuck’s lame excuse of a lie. however, on the other hand, shotaro’s face lights up in delight.

“you’re working on choreo? what for?” he inquires, curiously.

“for our dance class,” hyuck explains, motioning towards you. “i have a couple ideas so i was thinking you two could maybe try out some steps i’m planning to include. you know, to help me... visualize.”

“that sounds awesome,” shotaro responds, oblivious to your friend’s untruths. “i would love to help you guys out.”

“great!” donghyuck claps his hands together. “just a heads up, the theme of the routine is intimacy, so i wanna see all that charm of yours, shotaro. it’ll, uh, help me choreograph.”

you cringe at the obvious fib. meanwhile, it’s as if a switch has gone off in shotaro’s mind. his smile fades and his eyebrows knit together. “hold on, i-intimacy? does that mean—”

“that you’ll have to get a bit touchy-feely with her? yeah,” donghyuck interjects, innocently.

“y’know... i’ve really been wanting to dance with her.” he faces you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “just never thought it would be like this.”

you offer him an apologetic smile. “i know, it might be a bit... uncomfortable. you can back out if you’d like. i promise hyuck and i won’t mind.”

shotaro’s head shakes, vigorously. “no, of course not!” he must realize how quick he was to deny your offer, making him suspiciously eager to be close to you as he immediately adds, “i mean, it’s good practice.”

you suppress a giggle. “sure thing. hyuck, should we get started now?”

the boy in question dramatically picks at his nails, acting as if he had been waiting on you both for hours. “if you guys are done flirting, then, yeah.”

you roll your eyes, shooting shotaro a mildly annoyed stare. he grins, finding it to be equally amusing as it is endearing. (what can he say, the faint pout that appeared on your face was cute.)

“shotaro, how about you get in position right behind her.”

shotaro obeys, making sure to leave a significant amount of space between the two of you. however, donghyuck doesn’t seem to approve.

“closer!” he commands. “the concept is intimacy, not social distancing!”

shotaro shuffles forward, pressing his front into your back. you can’t help but notice how firmly toned his chest is. curse his dancers body, you think.

“okay, now, lemme see your hands on her waist!”

you feel the breath of shotaro’s shaky exhale on the back of your neck as he obeys, sliding apprehensive hands around your midsection. there’s silence on donghyuck’s end and through the mirror you watch him observe the two of you, no doubt acting way more pensive than he truly is. you know he’s just prolonging your flustered state by keeping you in this intimate position with the younger boy.

although, shotaro himself might know it too, considering the fact that he begins to rub comforting circles into your sides that he’s currently gripping, as per donghyuck’s request, in an attempt to calm you down. you nearly melt right then and there. at the same time, you hope he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

donghyuck calls out your name, successfully startling you and putting an end to the peaceful atmosphere. “why don’t you go ahead and lean on his shoulder. just lay your head back nice and easy— good, very good! look at that chemistry!”

if you’re being sincere, reclining on shotaro feels way more natural and enjoyable than it should. he steadily holds you in place, almost as if he secretly wishes to never let go. you wouldn’t be completely opposed to the idea either.

“alright, last thing, guys! y/n, how about you hook your arm around shotaro’s neck?”

you do so, fingers brushing softly against his jaw. he shivers beneath your touch, erupting into giggles when you shoot him an odd stare.

“i’m ticklish,” he confesses, in a whisper.

you can’t help but smile widely. “is that so? hm, i might have to exploit that information sooner or later.”

“as long as donghyuck doesn’t find out,” he replies.

his comment certainly gets a chuckle out of you. “did you finally realize how evil he is?”

“if the torture he’s putting you through right now is anything to go by, then absolutely.”

“only a matter of time before it’s your turn,” you reply. you lean into his ear to add, “by the way, this is anything but torture for me.”

“hey! no whispering!” donghyuck reprimands.

for the first time, shotaro goes against the older boy’s orders to whisper back, “it’s mutual. if anything, i think this is the best thing i’ve done since i moved here.”

your heart melts at the sincere admission. you stare at shotaro in what you’re sure is a very obvious case of heart eyes. you’re taken aback to find that he, too, returns the lovesick look. perhaps he was immersing himself a bit too much in the intimacy concept...

“stop! pause! cut!”

you and shotaro (reluctantly) untangle yourselves from each other to face a seemingly unhappy donghyuck.

“can you guys please just focus on my instructions without falling in love with each other?” he pleads. “i mean, you haven’t even gotten out of the starting position yet.” he groans, exasperated. “actually, you know what, just take five.”

[2:03 pm] hyuck: good morning

[2:03 pm] nana: it’s 2 o clock in the afternoon but ok

[2:03 pm] hyuck: i just woke up, therefore it’s morning

[2:03 pm] shotaro: good morning :3 did u sleep well?

[2:04 pm] hyuck: i slept a wonderful 27 hours, thnx for asking!

[2:04 pm] yangx2: ?????? THERES NOT EVEN 27 HOURS IN A DAY IM SCREAMING

[2:04 pm] you: LOLLL WHY WAS HE HIBERNATING

[2:05 pm] renjun: i was just gonna ignore him but i am genuinely concerned now

[2:05 pm] shotaro: woww,, well at least you’re well rested now! :]

[2:04 pm] nana: shotaro, i am begging u not to encourage him

[2:04 pm] you: all it takes is one (1) supportive person and he becomes an unstoppable force of evil

[2:04 pm] shotaro: o_0

[2:05 pm] jeno: besides ur like the only other person here with common sense besides myself and maybe renjun. i can’t lose u to donghyuck :(

[2:05 pm] renjun: ykw i’m not even gonna argue with that

[2:05 pm] yangx2: yeah shotaro is a good guy™

[2:06 pm] hyuck: i hate u guys and ur goldfish attention spans

[2:06 pm] you: sigh what do you need hyuck?

[2:06 pm] hyuck: i want boba :(

[2:07 pm] you: that actually sounds really good but idk if it’s worth being around u

[2:07 pm] hyuck: i’ll pretend like u didn’t just say that <3 what if i paid?

[2:07 pm] you: ....

[2:08 pm] yangx2: LMAO HYUCK BEING NICE IS SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR

[2:08 pm] renjun: ikr it’s making me super uncomfortable rn

[2:08 pm] hyuck: can’t i do something nice for my friends? :/

[2:08 pm] jeno: no

[2:09 pm] nana: nope

[2:09 pm] yangx2: nah

[2:09 pm] renjun: absolutely not

[2:09 pm] you: never seen it happen before so no

[2:10 pm] hyuck: u guys are so fake :( shotaro do u wanna hang out with me? if u say no i’ll scream :)

[2:11 pm] shotaro: yeah i guess i could :]

[2:11 pm] renjun: oh this just got interesting.. i guess i could tag along

[2:11 pm] yangx2: me too, i gotta be there to record whatever happens

[2:12 pm] nana: i’m in

[2:12 pm] jeno: same

[2:12 pm] you: hhhhh okay fine.. only to ensure taro’s safety

[2:13 pm] shotaro: (^з^)-︎♡

due to the fact that you believed donghyuck was going to try and officially initiate shotaro into your friend group with one of his infamous pranks, you decided to head to the boba shop. you hoped that if you showed up, you would be able to prevent whatever mayhem he had planned or at the very least, provide some damage control.

you pushed open the door to the quaint building, the bell dinging to announce your arrival. your eyes immediately lock onto the table in the far back since it was where you and your friends always sat — you had practically claimed it. you expect to see all the chairs filled but, to your surprise, only one person occupies the space.

osaki shotaro.

he beams, probably relieved to finally have some company in the otherwise empty shop. (after all, you weren’t sure how long he had been sitting there all alone.) nevertheless, you allow yourself to wonder — just for a second — if maybe he was just that ecstatic to see you. the way he enthusiastically waves you over seems to be in favor of that theory. it’s almost confirmed when you reach he table and he pats the chair beside him.

you let out a soft laugh. “the whole table’s empty, ‘taro.”

“i know,” he admits. “i just really want you to sit next to me.”

you swear you could break down in tears simply from the way he’s looking at you; like you’re all he needs. it’s pure adoration. you wonder if that’s how you look at him too. you can’t help but ask yourself if he, too, notices your longing stares.

you decide that you would be a monster if you denied shotaro his wish, so, you internally prepare yourself to sit next to possibly the sweetest boy you’ve ever known. yet, that proves to be difficult as said boy stands up to pull out your chair like the gentleman he is. you shoot him a grateful smile, mentally dethroning jeno as the most well-mannered person you know and passing the crown on to shotaro.

“so, how long have you been waiting for?” you ask, resting your elbow on the table and leaning into your palm to stare attentively at the boy to your right.

“actually, i only got here a couple minutes before you. we did agree to meet up here a quarter before three, right?” he asks, slightly confused.

you nod in confirmation. “honestly, i think we got set up.”

shotaro tilts his head. “really? why would they do that?”

“might have something to do with our ‘chemistry’,” you explain, quoting donghyuck.

the japanese boy’s mouth falls agape, as he comes to the realization. “oh, so they literally set us up.”

“mhm,” you agree, smiling ever so slightly.

shotaro must be paying closer attention than you thought because he picks up on your grin. “what’s with the smile?”

you shrug, feigning uncertainty. “i guess i just don’t feel so bad about being set up if it’s with a certain cutie i know.”

“oh?” he raises a brow, cheeks growing as he too mirrors your lovestruck look. “should i be worried about this guy?”

“certainly not,” you reassure him. “i’ve only got eyes for one.”

you see a faded tint of pink rush to his cheeks and you find it adorable how your confession flusters him. you can’t help but caress the supple skin as gently as possible. shotaro leans into your touch, his own hand coming up to cup your own, almost as if he were holding you in place. after a couple moments of basking in the intimate moment, you retract your hand.

“maybe we should try and get hyuck to include that in the choreo, huh?” you suggest, a teasing smile on your lips.

shotaro chuckles, “sounds good to me. i might even ask if i can fill his position, too. if not, i just might get jealous.”

you playfully shove him and he raises his hands in surrender. you chuckle, grabbing one of the menus that litter the table, planning to offer shotaro some help choosing an item from the list that is surely unfamiliar to him but it seems something outside the window behind you has caught his focus instead.

“looks like we have an audience.”

you take a deep breath at his words, preparing yourself for whatever it is you’re going to see upon turning around. when you finally do, all you manage to catch is five heads ducking beneath the windowsill, in a weak attempt to not get caught.

“of course,” you nearly laugh. “they’re so predictable.”

shotaro seems to find the situation humorous as well, if his amused tone is anything to go by. “to be honest, we should be thanking them. they got us together.”

“oh, so we’re together now?” you inquire, raising a brow.

“w-well, i mean, if you want to. i-i definitely want to.”

“no need for stuttering,” you reassure him, reaching over to stroke that one ticklish spot on his neck. “to quote a very wise — and handsome — young man, ‘it’s mutual.’”

he smiles at his own words being recited to him. “i don’t know about you, but i think we should seal the deal.”

“interesting. how do you suppose we do that?” you ask with faux curiosity. you certainly had some ideas of your own.

“maybe... a kiss?” shotaro leans forward, eyes closed expectantly as he taps his cheek. you resist the urge to pinch his lovely, round baby cheeks. he peeks one eye open to add, “for the audience, of course.”

you giggle, completely and utterly love-struck by the boy before you. in fact, you are so enamored by him that you decide to go the extra mile and press a sweet, chaste peck to his lips.

it seems as if he himself didn’t expect it as his eyes snap open, hand coming up to cup his lips in shock. when he finally uncovers his mouth, you see there’s a dazed, giddy grin on his face that let’s you know the smooch was very welcome pleasant surprise.

your phones simultaneously go off, alerting you of incoming messages. it’s a given that it’s none other than the group chat.

[3:15 pm] nana: that smooch was romcom worthy i’m so impressed right now

[3:15 pm] jeno: shotaro is living proof that being a gentleman has its perks! everyone in this gc should take notes!

[3:15 pm] yangx2: HERE IHAVE THE VDIEO OF THE WHOELE THIGN IF ANYOEN WANTS IT

[3:16 pm] yangx2: attachment: 1 video

[3:16 pm] yangx2: SORURY FOR THE TYPSO MY TEARS ARE BLURRIGN THE KYEBIOARD

[3:16 pm] renjun: can we get boba now?

[3:16 pm] renjun: oh wait my bad, congrats to the new couple :-)

[3:16 pm] renjun: to celebrate they should pay for everyone’s drinks.. just a thought

[3:17 pm] hyuck: ur welcome, y/n and shotaro ;)

413 notes · View notes

conscious-love · 3 years

Text

Why Holding On To Past Relationships Is The Worst Thing You Can Do For Yourself, Period

by Daniel Dowling via MindBodyGreen

Three years ago I was a 24-year-old failure-to-launch who lived on his mom’s couch and shared a bathroom with two teenage sisters. My friends had their own houses, degrees, and independence. And there I was, broke and depressed, totally reliant on my parents. It hadn't ever not been that way.

But in 2014 I made one small decision, which led to results I still sometimes can’t believe.

Today, I’m leading writers in a national campaign to rebrand my hometown, and I write for the best entrepreneurial and self-improvement sites in the world (mbg being my favorite; no lie). I make a great living coaching others to become the happiest and most successful versions of themselves. That’s a lot of change in just three years, from any perspective. And I can trace the transformation of my life back to one single thing: letting go of my exes—completely.

Breaking free from serial monogamy.

For most of my adult life I’d been a serial monogamist. I thought I just really loved love, but it turns out I was just really, really afraid of responsibility. So, for my personal dissatisfaction and unhappiness, self-improvement wasn’t the cure—it was a new girlfriend! And when that one didn’t work out, I'd find another. Yay for love!

Except it wasn’t love because I wasn’t becoming the best version of myself through these relationships. So after the last one ended ignominiously, I quit the love game—just not quite all the way.

I still kept in contact with my exes. And Jen—my former fiancee—was a particular crutch. We still visited each other even though we lived in different states. We kept in regular contact through texts and phone calls, especially during crises. I was still depending on her to make me happy.

Every time we talked, I renewed the connection to my former ways of thinking and behaving. It strengthened the conviction that, deep down, I could only be happy with Jen. She was my way out. If things got too tough, I could always come to her, and she could come to me. We even promised that if we weren’t married by 30, we’d get hitched. Talk about a safety net… (and, yes, also the plot of My Best Friend's Wedding).

Unfortunately, that safety net was keeping me from being the bold, successful, independent man I wanted to become. I just couldn’t seem to cut the cord on my own.

Flying without a net.

Then one day I was listening to an audio course from my favorite self-improvement mentor, Zig Ziglar. He was talking about how to right our wrongs and forgive ourselves. He advised writing apologies down and sending them to the appropriate people. But he had a special step for exes.

"When it comes to the forgiveness you want from your exes [Zig has a drawling Southern accent], I want you to follow all the steps I just gave you. But instead of sending off the letter, I want you to fold it up, light a fire, and burn the damn thing. Cuz there’s no point in renewing emotional connections with people who aren’t good for you. That’s why they're your exes! It’s time to move on from them and fully embrace your own life."

When one is slapped by truth, one’s jaw has a tendency of dropping, and the eyes have a tendency to glaze over, lost in a thousand-yard stare. That was the picture of my face. Might’ve even drooled a little.

I thought about Jen, and Em, and Katie. I thought about how important they’d been for me and how much security they’d brought me. And I knew I had to let them go for good. For good.

No more texts or calls. No more being Facebook friends. No email updates. No nothing.

I had anxiety about the decision, naturally—severing ties with my past and obliterating a huge comfort zone. But I had a future to step into. I had to do that on my own.

Dealing with the emptiness.

I missed my former girlfriends like crazy. But instead of feeling sorry for myself and longing for them, I prayed for them. I asked God for the same things I was asking for my own self-improvement journey—courage, faith, hope, positivity, inspiration, grace, and so on. I prayed for them to meet amazing and inspiring friends who could help them become their best selves. I prayed for my future wife. And I prayed that I would become the fully independent man capable of supporting her.

In all this praying, I completely changed my focus. Instead of relying on my girlfriends for faith and reassurance, I relied on God and my own ability to handle my problems. I took back the misplaced faith in my girlfriends and put it squarely in my own hands.

That’s when I finally launched.

Do you believe in life after love?

Just like Cher, I found my power only after letting go of my past relationships.

Without my exes as safety nets, it was just me. Nobody else was going to make me happy. So I did what I needed to do to make me successful—all the writing, studying, practicing, pitching, researching, and self-improvement. I actually become part of a community and made new friends. I fully embraced my own damn life.

Three months passed and I still missed my exes. But I was making money through my writing and making new connections.

Six months passed and I still missed my exes. But I’d started earning a full-time living through my writing. And I was growing more confident by the day, especially in my community.

A year passed and I still missed my exes. But I was fully independent through my passion. And I’d outgrown the anxiety and depression that had haunted me since I was a teenager—a by-product of my newfound faith in me.

It’s been three full years since I cut out my exes. I’m 100 percent over each one, but I’m human—I still miss them! Who wouldn’t? They were brilliant and beautiful women who were insanely fun to be with. I made thousands of joyful memories with each one.

Sometimes I’m reminded of them by hearing a certain song or watching a movie. But that’s just another opportunity for me to thank God for them and to pray for them. It’s another opportunity for me to be the independent and faithful man I know I can be for myself, for my wife, for my clients, and for my audience. It’s another opportunity to find security in myself and in a higher power. And through these opportunities, I’ve found the happiness and fulfillment I always wanted.

I advise all of my clients to go on a yearlong relationship fast, which most of them do. But the real growth comes when they fully let go of their exes and stop using them as crutches. It’s hard, hard, hard to do but absolutely essential if you want to grow.

Here are five tips to help you let go of your exes for good:

1. Start a self-improvement routine, complete with daily, weekly, and monthly goal setting.

Read this article as a primer.

2. Meet with someone weekly to discuss your personal growth and your journey.

This person will help keep you accountable to your goals and lifestyle choices. Can be a friend or an amazing coach.

3. Stay single for a year—totally single.

If you can’t be happy with you, you won’t be happy—truly happy—with anyone else. Love that you! Commit to being successfully single for a year. That means happy, connected in your community, fulfilled in your work, and in a state of continuous personal growth. (Your daily routines and long-term goals will be critical to this step.)

4. Surround yourself with positive, uplifting people.

Join a faith community where people strive to live out the values you identify with. This is where you’ll find the deep connections that you can grow with—and that will prevent you from leaning on your exes as crutches.

5. Pray or meditate often.

Use your emotions as mindfulness cues. When you miss someone, pray for them. When you’re lonely, pray for the courage, positivity, and fortitude to make good decisions. When you think you can’t go on—that happens to everyone—pray for what you need. This will help you grow faith in a higher power and yourself, which is an absolute must if you want to be happy alone.

And being happy alone? That’s an absolute must for loving someone unconditionally in a relationship that can last a lifetime.

Link to article on Mind Body Green

Author: Daniel Dowling

#Daniel Dowling #mindbodygreen #article #relationship #love #breakup #heartbreak #moving on #strength #recovery #healing #self respect #personal development #quotes

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dirtycccat · 3 years

Text

the demon bros+ undateables showing their love

thought about this for 5 min then had to write it out so enjoy

lucifer

first off you notice he treats you differently

and by differently i mean like you’re his favorite child sibling

you get away with anything??? and he’s softer with you than with the others (which is canon)

then you see that?? he keeps buying you stuff you said you wanted when he was present

and you’re ofc impressed

but you’re more impressed by how open he’s around you

he’ll leave most of his walls down around you

which means you’ll get to experience unfiltered lucifer

he’ll laugh around you more, make dumb dad jokes, nap with his head in your lap, complain drunkenly about his work and bros, give you sloppy cheeks and forehead kisses

you find it rly cute though

if you’re in the human world he’ll 100% take this chance to send you beautifully written letters asking you how you are and leaving some verses that reminded him of you on the back like a 19th century vampire

“dear mc, how is your life? mine is filled with woe and unease since i do not have the light of my life around anymore...anyway here’s a poem about being horny and alone by a 18th century romantic author hope to see you soon, xoxo lucifer”

you try to respond in the same way and send him memes on the back instead of poetry (or real poetry depends on your mood)

mammon

protective of you 100% will throw hands with anyone that even glances weirdly your way

but also wants to show you off? like look at this human!!! this is MY human!!!

gives you random thoughtful gifts that reminded him of you

wants to be around you 24/7 so he invites you to all the events that he thinks you’ll like

you wanna party? perfect. you wanna go on a weird ghost stories tour around the city? cool. you wanna waltz in one of those old people parties? he’s already reserved two tickets. you just wanna lay around and nap? he’s already on your lap.

it doesn’t matter if you’re in a romantic relationship or not this man WILL serenade you outside your window

rapunzel style with an acoustic guitar or with a boombox like a rebel 80s kid

anyway here’s toxic by britney spears babe this is for YOU

levi

considers you his bff ofc

but also at first he’s still really awkward around you and doesn’t really know what to do for you and feels bad thinking only you do things for him

until you reassure him you enjoy just being around him so it’s fine

he blushes and starts inviting you more to his room to game/ watch stuff

at some point he starts buying two tickets to all concerts he goes to and invites you along

but also? he asks you what you’re into and starts marathoning your favorite animes/ movies/ series so he can talk with you abt them

you feel really moved that he’d do that for you??? like??? bruh...

your relationship is basically friends respecting each other and wanting to know each other the best through their passions even if it means getting into some weird shit

it’s rly wholesome tho

if you’re romantically involved he’ll totally do roleplay as your favourite character and you do the same for him and it’s really cute

also imagine: artistic collabs. you make fanart together??? you can program games together???? you do cosplay together??? the possibilities...

satan

he’ll hate to be compared to his dad brother but he does show how much he trusts you by showing his unguarded side too

when he first talked about lucifer without the filter of his nice guy persona you were pretty shocked

like he was really going at it

but then you realize? he’s just like that when he’s comfortable

and it’s not all mean spirited, he just has,,, a strong personality and a lot of opinions about stuff (which you sometimes share with him)

but you also found out it’s really fun to gossip with satan

since he knows all the juicy gossip from his multitude of ties (he’s sharing the title of gossip queen with asmo that’s why they get along so well tbh)

also if you even find a teacher you hate he’ll tell you all their embarrassing moments to make you feel better

he also recommends you books and poems and sends you quotes that made him think about you

so you sure as heck don’t need to buy books while you’re in the devildom bc he’ll buy you an entire library

asmo

compliments you without comparing you to himself which is the highest compliment he can give

like mammon he’s more into the showing everyone his favorite human around while also protecting them

he’ll take you to his parties and gatherings as a guest of honor, he’ll make you meet all kinds of people and open up opportunities for you

he’ll be the one that pampers you

you’d think lucifer is the sugar daddy of the family but nope it’s asmo

he’ll buy you cute clothes, shoes, beauty products everything that he saw and imagined would look bomb on you

if you’re not into clothes he’ll buy you art supplies, books, anything you want but he’ll still probably buy you at least some clothes he thinks are cute

if you’re romantically involved,,,, he’ll buy other toys for you as well which you can try together wink wink

beel

cooks for you

no questions asked when it’s his turn to cook he’ll think about what YOU would like to eat first before making something

which is??? really touching coming from beel

and also means sometimes he’ll make the same dish three weeks in a row and annoy the others while you just get excited bc ??? you get to eat your favourite dish??? again and again????

thank you beel you truly know how to touch someone’s insides

also opens up to you and talks to you about his fears and thoughts

expect to get 4 am msgs from beel if he had a nightmare

which would end up in you coming to cuddle him (and belphie also joins sometimes)

which tbh is that even a thing you can complain about?

belphie

is more baby less murder when you’re around

naps on your lap, naps on your shoulder, naps with you anywhere

but also let’s you nap on HIM

besides being soft around you he actually opens up to you too

and talks to you about his traumas and issues

which he has in common with his twin what can you do

so you have weekly cuddle parties with him and beel where you talk about shit and actually make them resolve their issues instead of just,,, ignoring them

also if you’re into each other you probably tease each other and flirt really shamelessly in public while the others cringe and or blush at your language

are you a cowboy? because i want you to ride me all night

simeon

writes you fancy letters with poetry like lucifer, but his ink is scented and his envelopes contain pressed flowers more often than not

if you’re together you even do letter sexting if you’re into it

creates characters based on you in his stories (which you don’t believe even if levi points out you that the two of you are kinda similar)

asks you to spend more and more time with him and luke

invites you to picnics, reads to you while your head is in his lap, cooks you snacks

if you’re a theatre kid too,,, you do musical love confessions too,,, sometimes by just reciting the lyrics of really popular musical theatre songs in a death panned voice

cough a heart full of love from les mis but read like poetry through the fence of the house of lamentation cough

asks you cryptic shit hannibal style like “tell me mc what does it mean to want to be consumed whole by another? is it a desire to become something bigger than yourself or is it related to our need to become one with our loved one like some cultures pointed out before?”

you’re either really into his cryptid talk or just roll your eyes and smooch him

diavolo

invites you around to his castle all the time

sometimes he even pulls some weird shenanigans just to make you spend more time with him

expect tea parties with him luci and barbatos in no particular combination

gives you compliments 24/7 even in public

remember how he treats lucifer? he’s that for you too but he’s learned from the lucifer experience to focus on complimenting you as a person more than how you look

if you’re into pda he’ll touch you all the time

if you ever wanted a gomez - morticia romance, here’s your goth big titty himbo that’s way too full of love

if you’re lovers expect to be pampered, i feel like? he doesn’t buy a lot of gifts and such because he’s probably tired of material things but he will make time in his busy schedule for you and spend a lot of time with you

which means more to him than gifts

(we will buy you anything you ask though)

barbatos

actually talks with you about stuff outside rad, the demon bros and diavolo

also invites you to alone time tea or wine time

where you drink and gossip

if satan and asmo are the crowned queens of gossip barbatos is the king of gossip but he doesn’t share his knowledge to most people so nobody knows what he knows

but he knows,,,, a lot

and not only that he knows a lot about people nowadays,,, but imagine the things he knows about like historical figures and such,,,

so prepare for story time with barbatos where he talks about how oscar wilde was almost summoned by drunk inccubi during a party once, or how diavolo cried when he was a kid because he sent a letter to caravaggio asking him to paint his portrait and he said no

also if you get drunk together expect really energetic talkative barbatos destroying DESTROYING everyone (except diavolo ofc)

“lucifer please i once saw you crying because you thought diavolo was ignoring you when you actually forgot to press the send button to your messages ”

if you’re romantically involved diavolo will always be first in his hear but that just means you’ll have to invite diavolo along on your dates which just means you’ve got a new lover and a new bff

solomon

he invites you on all kinds of wacky adventures

you visit witches, go to weird magical forest parties or orgies if you want, you go travelling the mountains for rare herbs

it’s like you’re faust and he’s mephisto haha the irony and he’s showing you another side of the world you never knew

ofc the others know about all this but??? they thought it’s normal and didn’t even consider you know nothing about it

but solomon knows what it was like to be just a human

and since he likes you he empathizes with your situation

he also make you meet all kinds of people

since he has 72 contracts and hundreds of years of doing wack stuff he must know some interesting people

and now his friends are your friends

i feel like romantic solomon would be just him?? but less shady with you especially since now you understand him better

but also he’ll probably bring you weird shit from his alone expeditions

did you ever want the tears of a mermaid? a carnivorous plant that feeds on emotions? a crying portrait? no? well too bad because now you have a room full of weird items

...that you love and treasure thank you very much

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wonlouvre · 3 years

Text

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 2.1k WARNINGS: mentions of food, eating, hospitals, and brief mention of armed men

author’s note: finallyyy! been working on this for the past week and i’m relieved to be posting part 3 already! i’m not so confident about this and i am already warning you all that this could be dialogue heavy :((( please let me know your thoughts! i’d be really thankful to hear from you all!

three: subtle snuggles and light snores | masterlist

Wonwoo chose to work at the Royal Hospital of the neighboring kingdom at his own will. He and the rest of the people in his kingdom won’t deny how the other kingdom pioneered in the line of medicine.That’s why in spite of the many offers and opportunities at his homeland, he wanted to gain experience somewhere else first before going back home.

The marriage wasn’t served on the table before and when his parents broke the news to him, he was already hired and working for a few months. And now that a marriage is in talks, it seems unlikely that he’ll be going back anytime soon.

Wonwoo didn’t hesitate to agree. But someplace in his heart couldn’t help but wonder how it got to this. He’s not saying you’re terrible. You’re the exact opposite of being terrible. To him, you are amazing and awesome. A badass even.

There’s nothing really holding him back. Even his past relationship that you brought up previously.

It’s just that he wanted a purpose out of this union aside from the fact that this will bear the best outcome for his and your kingdom.

Wonwoo was once in love.

He knows, used to know rather, how his heart skipped a beat and how butterflies filled his stomach. But then came you and he is back to zero. He wants to like you. He wants to love you.

He doesn’t want to be a husband recognized by the public. Instead, he wants to be the lifetime companion that you can lean on and trust. He hopes that you see that he’s trying to be one.

It’s a challenge though, because he doesn’t know how or where to begin.

These thoughts have been running on his mind for the longest of days and even now as he gazes at your face, deep in slumber. What happened earlier was a shock. All he wanted was to invite you for a quick lunch before he goes to work and here you are now literally at his workplace, getting the right amount of rest you’ve been missing.

“Your Highness,” the Royal Family’s doctor calls to him politely while the two nurses accompanying him check on you. Wonwoo only gives a brief nod of acknowledgement. “I advise the Princess to stay overnight to recover from her dehydration and stress. A day away from work would be immensely helpful.”

Wonwoo’s eyes don't leave you as he continues to nod and agree with the doctor’s orders. It doesn’t look like it, but he is paying attention to every word the older one is saying. He bites his lip, beating himself up for not knowing what could be causing you stress.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to page us,” the doctor assures and Wonwoo finally turns his attention to him.

“Thank you so much.” He extends his arm for a handshake before letting them leave.

Wonwoo sighs before taking the seat beside your bed again. As much as he wants to go closer and maybe opt to hold your hand, he doesn’t. He just keeps his eyes on you. Your face looks so peaceful while sleeping, a small smile can’t help but form on the Prince’s face. It’s a relief that it’s nothing bad. But still, he can’t feel at ease until he sees your eyes once again. He decided to take a leave from work and stay beside you until you wake up and get discharged.

He has already informed the King and Queen of what happened and they will be here shortly.

“Wonwoo, my dear,” the Queen greets while opening her arms to the young doctor for a quick embrace. “How are you?”

The King walked past the warm exchange, not wasting any time to be close to your bed. “How is she?”

“Your Majesty,” Wonwoo doesn’t fail to say his greetings first before going on full doctor mode. “The Princess is stable. She just needs to replenish her energy by having lots of rest and she’ll be discharged as early as tomorrow morning. Would you like me to call the doctor in charge?”

“No, no,” the Queen answers, now sitting with her husband who’s been gently cradling your cheek. “We’ll go to him ourselves. I’m just glad you are here for her Wonwoo.”

“Ever the hard worker, she is,” your father mutters a harmless complaint. “I will give her a scolding once she wakes up. Scratch that, I am going to have the Prince do that in my place. He’s the doctor after all.” Finally, the King looks at him, a glint of humor in his eyes.

Wonwoo blushes and keeps his head low. He scratches the back of his neck before firmly promising, “I will take care of her better next time, Your Majesty.”

“Nonsense,” the Queen dismisses his apologetic tone with a wave of her hand. “Everyone gets sick every day and it just so happened that it’s our Princess this time around.”

An hour after the King and Queen left, Wonwoo’s eyes grew heavy. Unbeknownst to him, his head gravitated to your bed and close to your arm. He tried to keep his eyes open, still determined on waiting until you wake up, but his determination was futile because it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep beside you.

His face was the first thing you saw the moment you regained consciousness. The top of his head was snuggled to your arm, surprising you. At first, you couldn’t figure out what was going on. But the remembrance of the three cups of coffee you had was enough to answer the questions running in your mind. Then, the embarrassment came too soon because you also remember the look on Wonwoo’s face when he saw your agony.

You’re still not feeling well. You should probably get more sleep instead of resenting your embarrassment. You release a low groan, momentarily forgetting the sleeping Prince beside you.

Wonwoo stirs a little before opening slowly his eyes and meeting yours. He sits up in a heartbeat and blinks his sleep away to make sure you are really awake.

After confirming, he releases the breath he had been holding. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” you whisper, completely bashful. “How long was I asleep?”

“It’s eight o’clock now,” he answers while looking at his watch. “You were asleep for the whole afternoon so approximately eight to nine hours.”

“Wow,” you mutter in sincere disbelief. “I haven’t slept that long since I started working.”

“That’s why you’re going to sleep more.” Wonwoo stands up and fixes the blanket that’s keeping your body warm.

You frown and weakly stop his actions. “What do you mean? Am I not allowed to go home tonight?”

“Nope,” he answers and pushes your hand back down. “You’re staying overnight and that’s your doctor’s advice.”

“I don’t want to lay on this bed for 24 hours,” you whine, lips in a pout. “Can’t you give me clearance instead?”

“I’m not the doctor in charge and I am more than sure that you know that,” the Prince reminds and gently pat your head. “Go back to sleep and once morning comes, you’ll be good to go.”

Seeing that he has made a point, you give up and let your body relax on the bed in spite of your reluctance. You are smart enough to know that you can’t outsmart a doctor like him.

Wonwoo grins in victory and makes himself comfortable on the chair. He then pulls his phone out to make a quick check on some emails and updates at the emergency room.

That got you confused. Why is he still here? You blink suddenly realizing how he had stayed with you ever since you got admitted. You were embarrassed earlier but now you are sorry.

“Are you not… leaving?” You ask. “I can manage alone. All I need to do is sleep this away, right?”

“Sleep Y/N,” Wonwoo commands while his eyes and hands remain focused on his phone, dodging your question.

At the sound of your name, you roll your eyes and turn to the other side of the bed with a huff. As the days go by, you have noticed that Wonwoo can be mischievous and whenever he becomes one, it makes your cheeks blush red and heat up like wildfire.

Wonwoo just snorts at your annoyance. He puts his phone back in his pocket and puts his attention at the back of your head as your breathing slowly even out, much needed sleep once again taking over your body.

Wonwoo didn’t want to leave you when morning came and Jeongyeon arrived with your new set of clothes and warm meal. But he knew he had to go back to work and fulfill his sworn duty in spite of the validity of his excuse that his fiancee is sick. Other than that, but most importantly, he just wanted to see your eyes again first thing in the morning and he’d be content.

You seemed to be exhausted still because he could hear your light snores even when the sunlight through your room was enough to indicate how late it is already in the morning. But time is ticking and he is needed at the emergency ward. So, disregarding his qualms, he took the paper bag of clothing from his friend and colleague, Soonyoung, and changed.

Afterwards, Wonwoo picks up a thermometer and checks your temperature one last time to make sure that you don’t have any fever. All the while, oblivious to the knowing grin of your assistant.

“Please call me when she wakes up. I’d like to see her before she gets discharged,” he requests, hands busy fixing your blanket for the ninth time.

Jeongyeon smiles, aware that there’s nothing left to fix on your bed anymore, before answering. “Will do, Your Highness.”

Finally, the Prince takes his leave but not after giving one last glance to the sleeping Princess.

Jeongyeon immediately fed you the moment you woke up. She didn’t take no for an answer, reminding you that it’s her responsibility to take care of you and that her failure to do so is equivalent to having her head beheaded (it’s not enacted anymore).

At this point she’s now nagging you and it just falls deaf to your ears because you are indeed starving after all the sleeping. You ate every food she brought from the warm soup to the last grain of rice so fast, you looked like you were inhaling them instead of chewing properly. That made Jeongyeon scold you again reminding you that you’re about to be discharged from the hospital and she can’t have you admitted again because of indigestion this time around.

“I am glad that you’re eating well, Your Highness,” the Royal Doctor gladly says. He’s now here to run one last check up before giving you the clearance you’ve been begging Wonwoo for last night.

Wonwoo, you suddenly remembered. Where is he?

“Your Highness?”

“Oh yes,” you reply, waking up from your daze. “Sorry, I think I ate way too much. Please go on.”

The Royal Doctor checked your chart, frequently updated by the nurses on duty all throughout your stay. He then sits on the chair once used by the Prince to ask a few questions to make sure he’s not missing on anything. Your head still feels heavy but it’s nothing you can’t handle. He assures you that you are fine and gives you the reminders that he usually does with cases like yours.

“That’s it.” He clasps his hands together and stands up. “You are more than free to go. Please come back next month for a check up.”

“Yes, I will,” you say and reach for his hand to shake it. “Thank you very mu-”

You couldn’t even thank your doctor properly when someone suddenly barges in through your door with a bang. You recognized him right away as head of your security detail.

“I apologize, Your Highness,” he says, eyes on the floor. Soon, more men follow behind him. “But we have to leave the hospital and move you somewhere safer right this instant.”

Jeongyeon already knows what to do, moving quickly to help you sit up. Meanwhile, the doctor grabs the wheelchair from the small storage room and helps keep your IV stay in place as you move from the bed.

Once you’re all secured, everyone dashed out of the room.

“What the hell is going on?” You demand answers from the men surrounding you and Jeongyeon, who’s pushing the chair to the private elevator.

“There has been a commotion caused by armed men at the Emergency Room,” the head reports and upon hearing where he is talking about, your heart drops to your stomach. “The hospital’s security has it under control but we won’t be taking any chances on letting you stay here any longer, Your Highness.”

“Stop.”

Wonwoo.

#seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #fic: ifliys

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alphadaddyderek · 3 years

Text

Dude, just get out! (we both live here dumbass!) (sterek fic, smut, college au)

Stiles was initially excited to go to college. The freedom aspect of it in particular is what Stiles was the most excited about. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his dad, of course, he does. He didn’t mind living with him, he liked seeing him on a daily basis. He’s all Stiles has. Well, Stiles has Scott, but Scott is attending university in Arizona of all places. Meanwhile, Stiles is going to NYU, so, there’s not a lot of opportunities to see Scott or his father in person.

Not to fret though! Stiles was ready like Freddy to meet new people and, hopefully, make new friends along the way. That’s what college is all about. Supposedly, Stiles wouldn’t know but if all the movies are to be believed then that’s what college is all about.

He and his dad spent days driving up to NYU and then spent hours moving Stiles’ belongings into his off-campus apartment and unpacking. Stiles got a full-ride —thank god— so there’s extra money for him to be able to live in an actual, nice apartment instead of the dorms. His roommate was nowhere to be seen at the time, but that was fine with Stiles. He’d have plenty of opportunities to get to know him. Stiles’ dad left to stay in a hotel for the night because there was no way he was starting the trek back to Beacon Hills this late in the day. So, Stiles was left to his own devices in his new apartment.

Well, he was for about twenty minutes, then his roommate came back and...he’s kind of a dick.

He has a resting bitch face and he hardly likes to talk. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because the guy doesn’t like him or if he’s just the quiet type. He’s starting to think that the guy doesn’t like him because every time Stiles starts talking he looks annoyed. The dick’s name is Derek and coincidentally, he also goes to NYU. He did tell Stiles his major, but wouldn’t tell Stiles what his favorite color was, which is just plain rude.

Anyway, Stiles isn’t going to let this Debbie downer ruin his college experience, no way!

Stiles decides the best thing to do is to just ignore him. Which is hard to do because the guy takes up so much space, like, he’s actually huge. And he always seems to be in the apartment when Stiles comes back from classes. Which is weird because, dude, don’t you have classes to go to? Nonetheless, he’s always there which means Stiles has to see him all the time and Derek can continue being an asswipe for no reason.

For example, Stiles sometimes forgets to wash the dishes —sue him!— and Derek will chew him out for it. Stiles didn’t know Derek was such a neat freak, but now that he knows he’ll leave more things laying around because Stiles can also be a dick when he wants to be. Maybe Derek should learn to be more personable, then Stiles wouldn’t have to go out of his character by doing such petty things. They’ve only been living together for about a week and a half and there’s already a turf battle going on. Stiles isn’t sure who’s going to win this battle, however, the sight of Derek tripping over one of Stiles’ shoes and the subsequent curse that flies out of his mouth makes Stiles not even care in the end.

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

After about a month, it's way more than just a battle. The turf battle has evolved into a war and now, no one is safe.

Derek continues being yucky and Stiles continues to do things to intentionally annoy him, except, now Derek is doing things to annoy Stiles. Like, eating all of Stiles’ Pop-Tarts or, and this is a cruel one, flushing the toilet while Stiles is in the shower. Unfortunately for Stiles, Derek buys gross ass healthy food for himself, and Stiles couldn’t choke down that food to save his life. So, what can one do to even the playing field?

Derek is sitting on the couch in the living room, watching some show about underwater caves. Stiles normally wouldn’t stick around because, despite what Derek might think, Stiles really doesn’t enjoy being talked down to by an abnormally grumpy man. This time though, Stiles sits down beside him. He can see Derek watching him from the corner of his eye, probably waiting to see what Stiles is going to do. Stiles likes to instill fear in Derek. Normally he acts like Stiles is nothing more than a bug he wants to squish under his overly expensive boot, but now? He’s worried. He should be. Stiles is going to pull out his ultimate weapon.

“So, whatcha watchin’?” Stiles asks, plastering a smile onto his face.

Derek gives him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know?”

Stiles shrugs, smile still present. “I’m curious. This show seems interesting.”

Derek gives him an incredulous eyebrow raise, which is super insulting. Derek thinks all Stiles watches is Harry Potter, Star Wars, and superhero movies. Which is just wrong. But that’s okay. Stiles thinks all Derek watches are documentaries about how to be a functioning human in society, which, newsflash Derek, still needs working on.

A few minutes go by before Stiles decides to speak again. “So, you haven’t told me about your family.”

“That’s intentional.”

Stiles laughs. Derek thinks he can scare Stiles into leaving him alone. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles has zero self-preservation skills.

“Come on Derek. We’re roommates. Don’t you want us to get along?”

Derek didn’t dignify that with a response —rude!— so Stiles speaks again.

“My dad is the sheriff of my hometown. Been that way for as long as I can remember. My best friend, his name is Scott, wants to be a vet. He goes to The University of Arizona. After that he’s not sure where he’ll go to get his DVM but he’s open to anything.”

Derek turns the volume up on the tv and Stiles bites his lip to stifle his laughter.

Ah, Derek. That won’t help.

“At first I was kinda skeptical about Scott becoming a vet. I mean, he’s a puppy himself, and I love him to death, but sometimes he’s ditzy. He’s a ditzy brunette. But after working at Deaton’s, Deaton is the town vet, for years he’s proved me wrong,” Stiles risks a glance at Derek and he’s scowling so hard Stiles is kind of afraid it’ll get stuck that way forever. “He and his girlfriend, Allison, are kind of having issues with long-distance but they’re high school sweethearts so I’m confident that they’ll work through it. They’re so cute together that it’s actually kinda nauseating. Like, sometimes their sappiness makes me sick to my stomach. I wonder when they’ll get ma-”

Derek abruptly stands up and walks out the room, slamming and locking his bedroom door, as if Stiles is the boogeyman who he’s trying to keep out.

Stiles snickers and grabs the remote to change the channel. Derek gets annoyed when Stiles talks, well, he shouldn’t have started this war then (it doesn’t matter that technically Stiles started it). Stiles has weaponized his ability to talk people’s ears off. So, Derek better watch out.

Hopefully, Derek won’t murder Stiles in his sleep.

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

Okay, so, Stiles thinks maybe this whole turf war thing is getting out of hand.

It’s been a total of 3 and a half months since they’ve been living together and Derek and Stiles are on edge around each other 24/7. Stiles has to shower around eleven o’clock at night so that Derek won’t burn him alive by flushing the toilet. Derek doesn’t have access to Stiles’ snacks anymore because Stiles hid them in the back of his closet. Derek stays in his room all day just so that Stiles won't have any opportunities to talk to him. They’re at an impasse, but Stiles has a feeling that the worst has yet to come.

A really bad feeling.

Stiles comes back from a particularly grueling day of classes to see Derek sitting on the couch...and he’s smirking.

That doesn’t bode well for Stiles.

“Hello, Stiles.”

“Uh, hey dude. Why do you look like a supervillain?”

“‘Cause I have a surprise for you.”

Yeah, that definitely didn’t sound good.

“Actually, I am a-okay. I really don’t need the surprise. I appreciate it though,” Stiles tries to make his way towards his room but Derek keeps talking.

“I normally don’t snoop through people’s things, it’s really not in my character, but after you left to go out last night, I heard some weird noises coming from your room. I was trying to ignore it at first, but after a while I went to see what it was. I was going to mention it this morning but you woke up before I did and by the time I had woken up you were already in class.”

Stiles had stopped in his tracks but he still hasn’t turned around to face Derek, because if Derek is going where Stiles thinks he’s going, Stiles is going to need to be able to book it into his bedroom as soon as possible.

Derek didn’t seem too perturbed by Stiles’ silence since he continues with his story. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that it was your laptop making that noise. Now, I wasn’t surprised by the fact that porn was playing, but what I was surprised at-”

Oh god.

“-was that the video you were watching was titled ‘bear fucks twink with huge cock’. And now I can’t help but question your hatred towards me.”

Stiles’ face is burning. He’s never been so embarrassed in his life, which is really a great feat because Stiles doesn’t get embarrassed by much. It’s not that Stiles didn’t notice Derek was hot, like, come on now, Derek is gorgeous. He’s not that much taller than Stiles but the size of his biceps? They’re easily the size of Stiles’ thigh. Derek is bigger than Stiles in every aspect.

Well, he’s not sure about every aspect. Stiles has never seen Derek’s dick outright, but he’s seen him wear sweatpants, and ooh boy, that bulge gives Stiles the impression that Derek is hung like a horse.

Stiles still hates Derek because Derek still has his asshole-ish ways. Case in point: right the fuck now. But, you can hate someone and still want to fuck them, right? Hate sex exists.

Derek is patiently waiting for Stiles to respond, and Stiles has never been good at staying silent, so it’s only a matter of time.

Stiles finally turns around to face Derek and clears his throat. “That- that means nothing. People watch shit like that all the time. Plus, you hardly qualify as a bear.”

It’s a weak excuse but, hey, Stiles is grasping at straws here.

Derek tilts his head to the side in agreement. “True, but if that was the case, why do you seem so nervous?”

Stiles can’t think of a reasonable response in time and Derek knows it.

Derek smirks again and Stiles really wants to knee him in the dick.

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek. What the fuck is his endgame here? Why is he being such a dick?

Oh yeah, because Derek is a fucking asshole.

“Fine,” Stiles says through gritted teeth. “I find you attractive. I watch porn about big, hairy men fucking twinks because I want you to fuck me. Are you happy now? Jackass.”

Stiles storms into his room and slams the door. That’s a perfect example of why people can’t be pretty and nice. It’s genetically impossible.

Stiles lets out a sigh and dumps his backpack on his bed before stripping out of his clothes and getting into the shower. He stands under the spray for ten minutes, just praying to the cosmic gods out there that a black hole will appear and suck the whole human race into nothingness. After waiting for a few more minutes, and his prayers going unanswered, he washes himself then gets out to dry off. He wraps the towel around his waist and opens the door to find Derek standing outside his bathroom door. He shrieks (a very manly shriek by the way) and covers his chest with his arms, not that that’ll hide much.

“Derek, what the fuck are you doing?”

Derek’s eyes do the slowest sweep in fucking existence down Stiles’ body and Stiles feels his cheeks flush. Ugh, why are the cutest guys always assholes?

“I came to apologize. I was being a dick-”

“What else is new?” Stiles interrupts. Stiles is rewarded with another smirk.

“-and I took it too far. I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

Stiles looks at Derek for a second. They’ve never apologized to each other when they did shit, and even though Stiles didn’t take it as far as Derek did, Stiles can’t stand here and act like he wasn’t also an asshole.

Stiles sighs. “I’m sorry too. I was also kind of a dick. Not as much as you, but still.”

Derek laughs a little, and Jesus H. Christ, how is a laugh sexy? “Apology accepted.”

Stiles holds his hand out for a handshake. Derek puts his hand in Stiles’ and they shake on their newfound not-friendship-but-also-maybe-not-complete-dicks-to-each-other-ship.

“So,” Derek starts after they drop their hands. “wanna have sex?”

Stiles might’ve actually choked on his own fucking spit, because what?

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted to have sex.”

“Where is this even coming from? You hate my guts. Every time I talk you look like you’re going in for a root canal.”

Stiles is so confused, he’s also getting hornier by the minute, but right now, the confusion is outweighing the horniness.

“I don’t hate you. Yeah you talk a lot, and it was so annoying at first, sometimes it still is, but I got used to your incessant chatter.”

Stiles knows he looks dumb, his mouth is gaping and everything. “I think maybe there was something in the water because I must be high. We’ve lived together for over 3 months and you’re telling me that you actually want to have sex with me?”

Derek shrugs. “Yeah. Just because you can be kinda annoying that doesn’t mean you’re not cute. Plus, people have sex all the time, that doesn’t mean we have to, like, date or whatever.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek’s so romantic, how has Stiles been able to resist jumping his bones for this long?

“You just embarrassed the hell out of me, why would I ever want to have sex with you?” Never mind the fact that Stiles definitely does want to have sex with him.

“Maybe you don’t. If not, then fine. We can just go back to how things were. If you do, then we’ll have a great time.”

Stiles is still struggling to wrap his mind around all of this. Derek wants to have sex with him? In what universe does that make sense?

Apparently in this one.

Stiles does this sort of shrug that basically portrays well, what the fuck? Okay then. “Okay. I guess this is happening then.”

Derek smirks for like the fiftieth time in thirty seconds and if Stiles was a stronger man he definitely would’ve kneed Derek in the dick, but clearly, Stiles is weak.

Very, very weak.

“My room or yours?” Derek asks.

“Mine. Since it’s right there,” Stiles points behind Derek and, lo and behold, there’s Stiles’ bed.

Grabbing Stiles’ hand in a surprisingly gentle gesture, Derek walks the three feet from the bathroom to the bed to lay Stiles down.

Derek gets on top of the bed and is sitting on his knees by Stiles’ feet. He pulls his shirt off like he’s in Magic Mike or something before throwing it onto the floor without a care in the world. Jesus, it’s like his muscles have muscles. Stiles starts feeling a little insecure about his body. He’s got muscles, but, he’s not, like, ripped like Derek is. Stiles likes to think he has somewhat of a swimmer’s body.

Looming over him like a fucking creeper, Derek stares down at Stiles. “You know, you’re very pretty.”

Stiles refuses to admit that he blushes at that because he’s not pretty. If anything he’s handsome, some may even say gorgeous.

“Can you just get on with it?” Stiles throwing a scowl in Derek’s direction.

“Bossy. I kinda like that,” he strips his sweatpants off and throws them down too. Now he’s only in a pair of gray boxer briefs and, god, Stiles wants to suck his dick so badly. Which is weird because he’s really not all that experienced with blowjobs, he’s given maybe two blowjobs in his life. Whatever, Derek has a great dick okay?

Derek tugs at the towel around Stiles’ waist. “Is this okay?”

Stiles nods and then the towel is gone, and Stiles is laid bare for Derek to gaze at his leisure. And boy does Derek gaze. He does another slow sweep down Stiles’ body, except this time it’s even more intense because now Stiles is naked.

“You’re not a virgin right?” Derek asks while rummaging through Stiles’ bedside drawer and pulling out the lube. First of all, it’s rude to go through people’s stuff! Second of all, how the hell did Derek know his lube was there? Although, where else would lube be?

“Nope. There will be no deflowering of the Stiles today. Sorry to disappoint.”

Derek shrugs before popping open the lube. “I’m not one of those weirdos who pops a boner at the thought of popping someone’s cherry.”

Stiles chuckles, like actually chuckles. Who knew Derek was even capable of being funny?

Stiles pulls his legs up and hooks his hands behind his knees. The position exposes Stiles’ hole to the extreme and it makes Stiles blush. Just because he’s not a virgin doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get nervous or embarrassed during sex.

Derek knee-walks closer to Stiles and squirts some lube onto his fingers. He puts one hand on Stiles’ right thigh while the other one gently and slowly breaches his entrance. Fuck, his fingers are thick. Thicker than Stiles’ that’s for sure. Stiles definitely isn’t shy about fingering. He fingers himself all the time, but it’s been a while since someone else’s fingers were up there. Stiles is nervous and excited about it all.

Derek doesn’t spend too much time with the one finger, quickly adding a second one and that’s when it starts feeling good. Derek’s fingers are about an inch away from his prostate and Stiles is about to curse him out until Derek presses both fingers against his prostate and Stiles has to bite his lip to stop the loud ass moan that almost escaped his mouth. Judging by the look on Derek’s face, he knows he touched Stiles’ prostate, and being the asshole that he is, he has a cocky smile on his face.

After scissoring those two fingers inside Stiles for a few minutes, Derek adds a third finger. The stretch is definitely there, but hey, Stiles likes a little pain with sex. He can be kinky sometimes.

“Okay. I’m ready, come on,” Stiles says. He was starting to get impatient. He just wants to get dicked down already, damn.

Derek gently removes his fingers and gets off the bed to pick up his sweatpants. He reaches into the pocket and retrieves a condom out. Stiles’ mouth drops.

“So you just knew I’d have sex with you?”

“I didn’t know. I just hoped.”

That smarmy little bastard.

Derek gets back in bed and, finally, removes his briefs and...

Holy mother of god.

Well, maybe not the mother of god. That’s blasphemous as fuck. But! The sentiment is the same because wow. Stiles is glad he didn’t knee him in the dick because that dick is too gorgeous to cause serious injury to. He’s not like porn star big, but it is big and long too. And it’s uncut, which Stiles has a weird sort of kink about. He loves uncut cocks. Yeah, that’s a good-looking cock right there.

Derek unwraps the condom and rolls it onto his cock. He then grabs the bottle of lube that he placed on the bed and squirts more out before slathering a generous amount onto said cock. He makes Stiles move his hands before replacing them with one of his own, the other is at the base of his cock, lining it up to Stiles’ hole.

“You ready baby?” Derek asks.

“Call me baby again and I’ll dropkick you in the throa- oh fuck.”

Of course, Derek chose when Stiles was mid-threat to start pushing his cock inside. Geez, that is seriously a big cock, even the fingering didn’t make it burn any less. Derek gently pushes his cock in deeper before pulling it out, then he pushes it in a little deeper than he did at first before pulling it back out again. He repeats that until his cock is seated all the way inside, his balls to Stiles’ ass. Then he stops and waits. There’s sweat gathering above Derek’s eyebrow and some is even rolling down his temple. Needless to say, Derek isn’t as unaffected as he’s trying to be. Which makes Stiles feel kind of great actually.

“Okay, you can move now,” Stiles informs Derek. And when Stiles says Derek goes to town, he really means that.

Derek puts his other hand behind Stiles’ left knee and pulls out all the way, not even the tip is inside, before thrusting back in. Hard.

Stiles’ breath gets forced out of him at the movement. This truly is hate sex, kinda. Derek said he didn’t hate Stiles, but he certainly doesn’t like him all that much. At least, not yet. Who knows what will stem from this. That’s something to think about when Derek isn’t pounding him into the mattress.

Derek delivers a thrust that nails Stiles’ prostate dead on and Stiles makes this super embarrassing sound, like a high-pitched keen. He knows he’s not going to live that down after this.

After that, Derek is consistent with the hard abuse on Stiles’ prostate, and Stiles is getting close to orgasm embarrassingly fast. He isn’t too sure he’ll be able to last much longer. Although, Derek doesn’t seem like he’s going to be able to either. If the grunts and groans he’s letting out are anything to go by.

“Unh, fuck. Derek-!”

“Yeah, you’re gonna come?”

Stiles frantically nods his head and grabs his own cock to start stroking himself. Derek thrusts harder if that’s even possible, and within a few seconds, Stiles is coming all over his stomach.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groans and thrusts one, two, three more times before stopping with a deep, guttural moan. He almost sounds like an actual bear and Stiles can’t help the giggle that escapes him.

Derek gives him a weird look but his lip quirks up in a maybe sort of smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” Stiles gives him a shit-eating grin.

And since it’s already been established that Derek is an asshole, he grinds and his cock brushes against Stiles’ oversensitive prostate causing Stiles’ whole body to convulse. He slaps Derek’s arm.

Derek pulls out and lets go of Stiles’ legs. They’re sore from being in the same position for so long but Stiles can’t even care. He’s sated and all he wants to do now is take a nap. Stiles stretches his whole body like a cat while Derek disposes of the condom.

“Okay, that was fun. If you want to annoy me, I’ll be in my room.” And with that, Derek walks out of Stiles’ room to go to his own.

Derek was definitely a dick, but Stiles could deal with him. Especially if they continue to fuck like that.

Holy (not) mother of god indeed.

#sterek #sterek smut #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek fic #sterek au #smut #My fic

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}

summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’)

warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work

this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it

enjoy

- jazz

Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.

And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth.

Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart.

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.

None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse.

It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you.

Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain.

Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life.

A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you.

It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore

‘You look like shit.’

He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before.

The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once.

You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured.

‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’

Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’

‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’

Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.

He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally.

‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way.

‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead.

When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you.

‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’

‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’

‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’

‘Did it hurt?’

‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’

‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured.

‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’

‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’

‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’

‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’

‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’

‘I miss it already.’

Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing.

Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony.

There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be.

After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably.

‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’

‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’

‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’

‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’

‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’

‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’

‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’

‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’

‘What if they didn’t?’

‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’

Well, that explained it.

‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’

‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’

‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’

The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it.

Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day.

There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities.

But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about.

It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye.

And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.

‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’

‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’

You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’

‘That’s mean.’

‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’

Wait for you. Follow you.

‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’

‘Mmm?’

‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’

‘Or?’

‘How do you know there’s an or?’

‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’

‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’

‘Just cut to the point.’

‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’

‘So, you and me?’

‘What?’

‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’

‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’

‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’

‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’

You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’

Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter.

That was the problem.

You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be.

It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever?

That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find.

He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you?

That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing.

‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked.

‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’

He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’

‘Try me.’

‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’

‘I am here.’ You reminded him.

‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’

‘What’s the difference, Obi?’

‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’

‘Yeah.’

He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’

‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’

‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.

‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.

‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.

‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked.

You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later.

‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’

‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’

‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now.

This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.

‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’

‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’

Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either.

Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed.

Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around.

When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.

You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human.

‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’

He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost.

Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.

Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.

You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.

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typical-simplelove · 3 years

Text

The Start of Every Day - 40s Series (M. Barzal)

Summary: You and Mathew find a gazebo in a park at age 10, and Mathew deems it your place. Finding the gazebo is the start of years and years spent in the gazebo.

Series Masterlist

A/n: Here's the next part!! This is one of my absolute favorites of this series, so I hope you enjoy it! Please, let me know what you thought. Thank you

Warnings: Mentions of War

Word Count: 3.1k

Age 10 - 1931

The first time you and Mathew found the gazebo was when you were both on a walk with your families. Every Sunday afternoon, your family and Mathew’s family always when for a walk around the neighborhood; however, this time, both families went a different route. Believing he was an explorer, Mathew ran ahead of his parents, and you were close behind. Ever since day one, you always followed Mathew close behind. Yours and his parents always said that it was because you loved him, but you always said that he loved him as just a friend. Nothing more. You were always following Mathew around when he was running, but he always followed you around when it came to everyone else. You were each other’s best friends and inspirations. You both were inseparable and couldn’t imagine a life without the other.

You paused for a moment to catch your breath and called out to Mathew to wait for you. He didn’t hear you at first, but when he looked behind him to flash you his signature grin, Mathew noticed you were a bit behind him and frowned. He didn’t want you to exert too much pressure on yourself, so he turned around and walked to where you were catching your breath. Even at age 10, Mathew was always looking out for you.

“Are you okay?” Mathew asks concerned. You flash him a smile with a thumbs up, and Mathew swears he felt his heart skip a beat. He later asked his mom about it, but she just smiled at Mathew.

“Just walk instead of run?” you ask.

Mathew nods. “Of course.”

When you deem that you’re ready to get walking again, you begin walking again. Mathew takes his sweaty hand in yours as you both walk. You were about to ask why he took your hand when Mathew’s mother called out to the two of you.

“Children, go into the park,” she calls. You both cross the street and walk into the park. You sit on a bench as you wait for your parents to rejoin you two. For the first time, Mathew releases your hand. When he released your hand, you felt sad that he no longer wanted to hold your hand. This was the first time you realized that you always wanted Mathew to be holding you, but you thought, at the time, you just wanted to play pretend married couple with Mathew.

“What’s that?” Mathew asks looking up. You follow his gaze.

“Not sure,” you reply.

“It’s a gazebo,” your mother answers from behind you. “Go ahead, go check it out.”

You and Mathew get up from the bench and go to the gazebo. You both walk to the center of the gazebo and look up at the top of it.

“It’s tall,” Mathew says.

You giggle, and Mathew smiles at you. He always did love your smile and giggle. “That’s all you have to say? Look at the designs on it, though, isn’t it pretty?”

“What do people do in a gazebo?” Mathew asks curiously. He turned to see if his parents were around to answer, but they were at the park playing with his sister and your siblings.

“I’m not sure, but isn’t this a great place to dance? I wonder if people get married on gazebos.”

“I wonder,” Mathew says and looks at you. Did you want to dance with him because he wanted to dance with you. “Hey, yn?”

“Yes, Mathew?”

“How about this is our place?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is where we go when we’re upset or sad. A place for you and me,” Mathew answers. All his friends had secret places and hideouts with each other, but Mathew wanted a secret place with you and only you.

“Our parents know about this place, silly.”

“A secret place for just you and me. A place hidden from our friends.”

You ponder the idea for a moment. “Okay, I like it.”

From that day forward, you and Mathew would always escape to the gazebo in the park down the street to play and hang out with each other.

Age 13 - 1934

“Hey, yn, are you okay?” Mathew asks. He walks up the steps of the gazebo and sees you sitting in a corner curled into a ball.

“Yes,” you say through sniffles.

“No, you’re not,” Mathew says and walks over to you. He places his arms around you and begins to stroke your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“My grandmother died.”

“Oh, Yn, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

You look up for the first time and look into Mathew’s hazel eyes. His eyes always did seem to calm you down. “It’s okay. How did you know where to find me?”

“Your mother said that you walked out saying you were going for a walk. I figured you were going to our spot.”

You smile. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me; this is what best friends are for.”

Mathew held you that afternoon as you cried and recounted memories of your grandmother. At the end of the day, you knew that Mathew was there for you. Would he always be there for you?

Age 16 - 1937

“Miss Yn Yln, what are you doing here instead of at the dance?” Mathew calls to you. He’s standing on the steps of the gazebo with one hand on one of the beams. He’s wearing a suit you knew he was probably wearing.

You turn around and look at Mathew. “Didn’t feel like going. Don’t you have a date?”

“Don’t change the subject, and yes, I did.”

“Why aren’t you with her?”

“Because Yn, my best friend isn’t at our dance even though she said she’d be there.”

“Mathew,” you begin but stop yourself. What were you supposed to say? You told Mathew you’d be going, but it hurt to see him dancing with someone else when you wanted him to dance with you.

“Yn,” he says to you with a smile that made your heart melt. “It doesn’t matter if I have a date if the one person I want to dance with isn’t going.”

You snap your head up at Mathew’s words. “What?”

“Dance with me?” Mathew asks. He didn’t give you the opportunity to think about it or answer because he wraps one arm around your waist and takes your hand in his other hand. You wrap one arm around his middle and sway with him. “Do you remember what you said to me when we first found this place?”

“No, I don’t,” you whisper. Could Mathew hear your heart beating through your chest?

“You said that this gazebo is probably a great place to dance. Guess what my next thought was.”

You laugh quietly. “Mathew, how am I supposed to know what you were thinking?”

Mathew’s face grows serious. “I was thinking of asking you if you wanted to dance, but I got too chicken and didn’t ask.”

“Oh,” you say in a tone just barely audible. “Mathew —”

“I’m in love with you, and I think I’ve always been in love with you,” Mathew whispers. You look up at his words trying to see if he was being serious or not. When you see the glint of worry in his eyes, you know he’s telling the truth.

“I didn’t go to the dance even though I dressed up and told you I’d be going because I’m in love with you, too.”

Mathew breaks out into a large smile. “So, I can kiss you?”

“Yes, you can kiss me,” you tell him matching his smile and close the space between you two. This was truly the start of every day of your life.

Age 19 - 1940

Your head was resting on Mathew’s chest with your arms wrapped around his neck. His head was rest on the top of yours with his hands wrapped around your waist. You were swaying to a tune you couldn’t hear but knew in your hearts. You both held each other tightly as if it were the last time. It might as well have been. Mathew was back home for five days before he shipped out to the Pacific. Tonight was his last night. You both escaped early for his goodbye dinner to go to the one place that held comfort for the both of you — the gazebo.

Mathew placed a kiss on the top of your head and whispered, “it’ll all be okay.”

Instantly, the tears began to flow from your eyes. What you were supposed to tell someone who was about to ship overseas? What were you supposed to say to someone you loved on what might be the last time you seem them? You didn’t know what to say. You lift your head and look at Mathew. He removes one hand from your waist and wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“Mathew —” you being but stop. You didn’t know what to say to him. He looks at you expectantly waiting for you to continue. Instead, though, you cry harder.

“Hey, hey, shhh,” Mathew wraps his arms around you tightly. You feel wetness on your forehead and look up to see Mathew crying, too. You move your hands to his face and wipe his tears away. You cup his cheeks and stroked him softly.

“I have no idea what to say to you, so I’m just going to tell you what I know, okay? I know I love you more than anything or anyone in the world, that will never change. I’m going to miss you so much, and I’m going to be so worried about you until I get to have you in my arms again, so don’t ask me not to worry about you. I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I’m going to be strong and brave for you because you have the hard part. I get to stay home while you go overseas. Just know, Mathew, I love you, and that’s not ever going to change.”

“I love you, too,” Mathew says quietly. “I’m so worried that I’m never going to see you again.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, okay? Let’s just have one more night together without worrying about anything. If anything can survive the war, it’s the love we have for each other, okay?”

Mathew nods. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you place a kiss on Mathew’s cheek and return your head to rest back on his chest. You both continued to sway to the silent song and held each other as your minds wondered if this was the last time you’d be holding each other.

Age 24 - 1945

“Mathew?” you call out. He came home from war just today, but you haven’t had the chance to see him, yet. You were at work and couldn’t see Mathew yet. You went to the Barzal house hoping to see Mathew, but instead, you were met with his mother handing you a note for you to meet Mathew at the gazebo.

You walk up the steps of the gazebo and look around for Mathew. Where was he?

“Yn,” Mathew calls from behind you. He‘s wearing his Navy blues and looks as handsome as ever. You turn around and run into Mathew’s arms. You hold him tightly as he holds you just as tightly and strokes your back.

“You’re home!” you say to Mathew as you look at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, well, the war’s over. Come on, you owe me a dance.

“I don’t think I owe you a dance, but I don’t mind a dance.” You and Mathew walk to the center of the gazebo and face each other. You wrap your arms around Mathew’s neck and rest them on his shoulders as he wraps his arms around your waist. You both begin to sway to the silent song for a few moments when Mathew takes your hand in his and spins you. “I love you, Mathew.”

Mathew smiles. “You have no idea how many times I dreamed of you saying that to me. I love you, too.”

You lean your head up to Mathew’s and place a kiss on his lips softly. You let your lips sit on his after the kiss is over just relishing in the touch and the feeling. You pull away but instantly go in for another kiss. This time, you both deepen the kiss signaling the longing you both felt for the past five years. Mathew pulls away with a nervous smile on his face. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Close your eyes first,” Mathew instructs, and you do as he asks. “Open.”

You gasp when you see what’s in front of you. Mathew is down on one knee with a small box, opened, in his hand. “Mathew.”

“Yn, I probably should have proposed before we left, but better late than never, right? Yn, I’ve been in love with you since we were children. I think I finally began to realize when we were ten right here on this gazebo when you said how it must be so lovely to get married right here. Yn, I’ve loved you forever, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Mathew,” you tell him. Mathew smiles and stands. He slips the ring onto your finger and places a kiss on your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, yn, forever and ever and always.”

You and Mathew danced on the gazebo together for the millionth time but the first time as an engaged couple. The first time your forever is sealed.

Age 25 - 1946

“Hey, want to go for a walk?” Mathew mumbles into your ear.

“But I’m wearing my wedding dress, still,” you reply. You were sitting on Mathew’s lap with his arms around you as your wedding reception was coming to a close. The only people still there were your family, Mathew’s family, some of your close friends, and some of Mathew’s close friends he made while in the army.

“That’s what makes what I want to do so much more exciting.”

“Think they’ll miss us?”

“No, of course not. Everyone’s enthralled by Anders’ daughter and Anthony’s son.”

You turn your head and look at your husband. “Mathew, we are celebrating our marriage. Maybe we should stay.”

“Oh, come on. Let’s head to the gazebo for old time’s sake. What do you say?”

You pretend to ponder it. “Sure, why not?”

You get up slowly and place your hand in Mathew’s. You’re both able to escape without anyone noticing, and you’re walking to the gazebo. You make sure that your dress doesn’t snag or get caught on anything because you’re hoping to save it for your future daughter or granddaughter one day. You both step onto the platform of the gazebo, and you drop the hem of your dress. You place one hand around Mathew’s neck and put one hand in Mathew’s hand. He wraps his other hand around your waist, and you begin to dance.

The only sounds that can be heard are the hem of your dress colliding with the boards of the gazebo. Mathew begins to place kisses on your face and forehead as you continue to dance.

“Think, one day, we’ll bring our own children out here,” you say quietly.

“Already thinking about kids now?” Mathew teases.

The heat rises to your face. “That is the next step, right?”

He places a kiss on your cheek. “I know. Just teasing.”

You place a soft kiss on Mathew’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Barzal.”

Age 31 - 1952

“Momma, where are we going?” Catherine, your five-year-old daughter, asks.

“Just wait, sweetheart,” you tell her.

“Momma, my feet hurt, are we there yet?” Jacob, your three-year-old son, asks.

“Just a few more seconds, okay?”

“Look, there’s a park, momma,” Catherine pesters.

“That’s where we’re going,” Mathew speaks as he’s holding your one-and-a-half-year-old son, Liam.

“We’re going to the park?” Jacob asks excitedly.

“Kind of,” you reply.

“Momma, please don’t be mysterious,” Catherine asks. You stifle a giggle because she doesn’t quite have the capacity to say “mysterious” yet, but she’s trying.

“We’re here,” Mathew says as the five of you approach the base of the gazebo. “Go ahead, you guys, walk up.”

Catherine and Jacob step up onto the gazebo, and Mathew helps you up the stairs as you’re pregnant with your fourth child. He places Liam on the gazebo, so Liam can toddle around with his siblings. Mathew stands behind you and wraps his arms around your six-month pregnant stomach. He places kisses on your cheek as you both watch your three kids explore the place that has a prominent fixture in your lives.

“Momma, what is this place?” Catherine asks.

“Yeah, Momma, what is this place?” Jacob echos. Liam babbles along, too.

“Why don’t you ever ask Daddy any questions?” Mathew asks. He isn’t sure if he should be upset because he knows you’re a great mom and that your children do favor you.

Your three children just stare at their dad blankly, including Liam, and you break out into giggles.

“Let’s not be mean to Daddy,” you say. “Do you want me to tell you what this place is?”

Catherine and Jacob nod and Liam walks over to his dad to get held.

“This is a gazebo. Your dad and I found this place for the first time when we were ten. Daddy kissed me here for the first time when we were sixteen. He also proposed to me here, and we danced here on the night we got married. We’ve decided to finally bring you three here for the first time.”

Catherine walks over to you and places her small hands on your bump. “Why didn’t you wait until the new baby came?”

“Because we wanted to share this with you, and when the new baby comes, we will definitely be coming back.”

“We’re going to be coming back more and more, so don’t worry,” Mathew says. “Do you want to go to the park?”

Your children cheer, and Catherine and Jacob run to the swing set. You and Mathew follow closely behind with you waddling on, and Mathew holding Liam. “I love you and this family we have.”

You look at your husband and smile. “I love you and our family, too.”

“I can’t wait to meet the new one.”

“Me too.”

Your family of five spend the day at the park on the swing sets. Your children didn’t see the meaning of the gazebo to you and Mathew, but one day, you hoped they did because finding the gazebo was the start of yours and Mathew’s every day.

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what-is-your-plan-today · 3 years

Text

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 1: The Case Of The Mysterious Shrinking Sweater.

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this all came about as myself, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @jennmurawski13 saw a post about Ransom doing everyday things…and yeah, it kinda spiralled. The series will consists of one-shots and drabbles, all light hearted…and the occasional little bit of smut thrown in for your pleasure and we hope a nice countdown to Christmas after what has been an utter shit-show of a year.

We will be taking it in turns to alternate posting so keep your eyes peeled for the next instalments as they arrive. I’ll be re-blogging and tagging my list.

Series Masterlist.

People say that being pregnant was an enjoyable experience, that you glowed and bloomed. But right now the only thing blooming was the feeling of nausea in the pit of your stomach. You lay still, hoping that it would go away, but as usual it didn’t. Swinging your legs off the side of your huge bed, you hurried barefoot over the plush carpet of the bedroom you shared with your husband before dropping with a thud to the floor of the en-suite, emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl of the toilet. You repeated the motion again and again until you were retching dry air, your eyes watering, throat stinging and you let out a little sob.

At almost 22 weeks pregnant, this was ridiculous. The whole morning sickness was supposed to have eased off by now, but not for you. Oh no. Mind you, what else were you to expect given that you were expecting his baby.

The spawn of Satan…

“Y/N?” your husband’s deep baritone hit your ears and you turned to look up at him as he stood in the doorway, clad only in his boxers. Strong thighs gave way to a tapered waist, a flat yet slightly soft stomach ran into the hard planes of chest muscle and sculpted arms from years of playing polo (God forbid the asshole do any other form of manual exercise, well apart from the obvious one that got you into this mess in the first place that is). Broad shoulders stretched either side of a strong neck which supported that damningly handsome face with the jawline that could cut glass and those deep blue eyes that had ruined your panties the first time you’d seen them.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale was a beautiful bastard. And he knew it.

“You ok?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes before a fresh wave of nausea hit you and you retched once more.

“Do I look ok?” you shot back, sinking back onto your heels, wiping at your face. You felt Ransom move from the doorway and then heard the tap running.

“Here.” One hand settled between your shoulder-blades, the other handed you a glass of water as Ransom knelt besides you, his blue eyes bearing the warmth that he reserved only for you. You took the drink without a thanks, the usual sarcasm he would display at such an action remained unsaid as you drained the glass and passed it back. “Can I do anything else?”

“Fast forward to January next year so the baby’s here?” you grumbled “I can’t take another damned 4 months or whatever of this, Ransom!”

“Sorry Princess.�� He chuckled, “I can’t help you there.” “I hate you.”

“So you keep saying.” He shrugged “But the fact you’re pregnant with my son…kinda proves that you don’t.”

“We were drunk. Besides, hate fucking is a thing.”

“Is hate marrying?”

“Yup.” You nodded. “I only married you so I could divorce you for your money.”

“Well that was almost 2 years ago so why you still here?” he drawled back and you looked at him, snorting as a smirk spread across his face before he tossed his head slightly to throw back the strands of his hair that had fallen forward over his forehead “Thought so.”

“Asshole.”

With a roll of his eyes Ransom helped you to your feet, glancing down at your chest, your swollen breasts visible down the front of your camisole top. His eyebrow arched a little as he raised his head to meet your eyes and you snorted.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on baby!” he whined, his hands falling to your hips, pushing up the silk of the top you were wearing, his thumbs skating over the curve of your bump “You know what seeing you like this does to me.”

“Seeing me like what? Red faced with puke in my hair?”

“Yeah the puke not so much.” He wrinkled his face, “But I can think of an arrangement here that could potentially eliminate that particular issue.”

“You’re not fucking me in the shower.” You shook your head.

“But…”

“No buts Ransom.” You looked at him as he glared back, his face now wearing the usual petulant expression he bore when he didn’t get his own way “Stop being a brat. I’m up now and I got stuff to do.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he folded his arms. You gave a groan of exasperation.

“I have a conference call with my boss at midday…”

“It’s a Saturday.”

“I know that, but we have a big case…”

“You don’t need to work, tell him to fuck off.”

As usual you ignored Ransom’s dig about your job. He could never understand why you insisted on keeping your role as a Legal Secretary, but then again what was to be expected from the trust fund Man-Baby who had never worked a day in his life. “And there’s a pile of laundry to do.”

“I don’t know why you won’t let me hire a maid….”

“I don’t WANT A FUCKING MAID!” you exploded. Ransom’s eyebrows shooting upwards slightly was the only reaction to your shouting that he gave. “This is our home...”

“Well with the baby on the way, maybe you might want to reconsider that stance.”

“Or maybe you could start pulling your weight.” You jabbed him in his chest. He glanced down at your finger, his eyebrow arched as he looked back at you.

“Pulling my weight?”

“Yes.”

“Exactly how?”

“I dunno…how about you start performing those little real life tasks that normal people do Ransom? You know, the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, loading the dishwasher, making the bed, cooking breakfast or dinner…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He scoffed and you groaned “You know I can’t cook.”

“How do you think I learned?” you shook your head, before rubbing at your temple. “I practiced.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen Princess.”

“What a surprise” you shrugged “God forbid Hugh Ransom Drysdale get his hands dirty.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He snapped and you snorted. Of all the names you called him, it was his actual name that riled him so much. It was ridiculous, but also too good an opportunity to pass up. He was an asshole at times, and you took none of his shit. You never had done, not since that fateful day you met in that lecture hall at Harvard some 10 years or so ago. Truth be told, he’d often admitted it was the fact you gave him nothing but shit, called him out and basically ignored him for 6 months, despite the fact that you desperately wanted him to do very rude things to you. Your ambivalence provided him with a challenge and he pursued you with a dogged determination which you eventually gave in to towards the end of your first year of Study.

“Why not?” you shrugged, deciding to poke the bear a little more because, well, you could…that and you kind of enjoyed watching that vein pop in his neck when he was pissed “Isn’t that what the help call you? I mean I might as well be your help all things considered.”

“You’re my fucking wife.” Ransom spoke through grit teeth, his jaw set, neck strained (ah, there was that vein!)

“Well here’s a novel idea.” You smiled up at him “Why don’t you start acting like I am instead of some glorified housekeeper that you fuck and keep in your bed.”

“Ok, I’m gonna let that slide due to hormones.” Ransom’s hands fell to his hips.

“You’re gonna let it slide?” you scoffed

“Yes.”

“Whatever.” You took a deep breath “Now get out I need a shower.”

“So….just so we’re on the same page, you don’t want me to-“

“NO RANSOM!” you growled, shoving his chest. He sniggered, stepped back with his hands up, palms open as he backed out of the door, closing it behind him.

*****

Ransom could hear Y/N’s voice as it drifted softly through the closed door of the study into the hallway and he rolled his eyes. Her boss was a jerk, making her call in at midday on a fucking weekend, all because he was too incompetent to cope himself. She should be curled up on the sofa, watching junk, eating crap, wearing nothing but one of his sweaters. She’d been looking for her favourite one before, cursing when she’d realised it was in the laundry hamper and mumbling about how she’d pop it into the machine later.

“How about you start performing those little real life tasks that normal people do Ransom? You know, do the laundry…”

Ransom paused by the stairs, before he smirked a little. “Oh you’re gonna eat your words, Princess.” He mumbled, before he bolted upstairs and into their bedroom, through to the en-suite. Tipping the hamper up on its side he looked down at the pile of clothes and frowned. Y/N normally sorted them into separate piles, but he wasn’t sure how…or why now he thought about it.

Fuck it, there was nothing google couldn’t solve.

He soon found out, thank you Housewives Online, that they needed to be sorted according to colours. Whites, brights and darks. So, as his sweater was blue it could go in the colours pile. He nudged the other two piles to the side of the room with his foot before he gathered the one he wanted in his arms, wrinkling his nose at the fact he actually had dirty clothes in his hands and made his way downstairs. He wandered through the kitchen and into the utility room at the back, before he stuffed the items into the machine and then looked around for the detergent. He found it on a shelf over the back of the room along with the fabric softener. Grabbing them both he then paused as he realised he didn’t actually know where it went.

Okay, so this had to be a process of elimination. He pulled open the little drawer on the front and smirked as he noticed the sections were labelled.

“Piece of cake.” He poured in what he deemed enough of each and then shut it, before he looked at the digital dials on the front.

“For fucks sake…” he grumbled, punching a few buttons. Eventually the display kicked in, offering him a one hour-thirty hot wash.

“Well, who washes clothes in cold water?” he shrugged, pressing the green button. As he stood back the machine kicked into life and Ransom nodded, congratulating himself, before he decided he’d earned himself a beer.

****

“Son of a…” you heard the curse as you opened the door to the study and frowned. Whilst your call had lasted a little longer than it should have, surely Ransom couldn’t have gotten himself into that much trouble in the space of two hours. You followed his string of expletives down the hall, through the kitchen and into the laundry room to find Ransom holding what looked like a smaller version of his sweater in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“Singing a duet with Beyonce, what does it look like I’m doing?” he snapped.

“It looks like you’re doing laundry.” You ignored his shitty comment and arched an eyebrow, one hand falling to your small bump.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Where did you get that little…” you trailed off as you realised that it wasn’t a smaller version of his gorgeous navy blue, soft woolly number in his hands, it WAS his gorgeous navy blue, soft woolly number “You shrunk your sweater?” He glared at you as you started to laugh “Oh my god, you dumbass!”

“It wasn’t me it was that fucking shitty machine.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the machine.”

“Well why did it shrink then?”

“What programme did you put it on?”

“Programme?” he frowned “I just turned it on.”

With a sigh you rubbed at your temple “There are different settings depending on what you’re washing.” You stated “That’s wool. It should have been on a cool cycle.”

Ransom looked at the item in his hand and you watched as his shoulders sagged a little. “I wanted it to be nice and clean for you to wear later.” He sighed as he peeked up at you, a strand of hair falling over to his brow. Your heart instantly melted, little gestures like this from him meant the world as it was his way of showing he cared. He could buy you all the expensive shit in the world but these were the little things you craved.

“Oh baby!” you chuckled as you stepped forward, leaning up to kiss his cheeks. “It was a nice thought…” you took the sweater off him and looked at it “But even I don’t think I’ll fit into that. It’s tiny.”

Ransom looked at it before his face suddenly curled into a smile “Baby boy tiny?”

You let out a laugh “Maybe not baby boy tiny, but little child boy tiny, sure.”

“We’ll save it for him then.” He said, tossing it down into the basket of wet items that needed to be dried. “His first hand-me-down.”

You smiled as his hands dropped to your hips and pulled you closer. “You’re a big softy really, aint you?” you reached up to brush that stubborn strand of hair back of his forehead and he shrugged before he grinned, rocking his pelvis forward.

“I won’t be soft for long.” His head dropped and he nipped at your ear “Let me show you what Husband chore I’m actually good at.”

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic

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