#and while that's true its also true that the complete lack of silence in how that also applies to the THEMES of ATLA overall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamostar · 4 months

Text

drunken confession

pairing : jeongin x gn!reader

summary : jeongin is hopelessly in love with his best friend and finds himself drunkenly confessing his love

wc : 3.2k (got carried away)

cw : unrequited love (soz), best friends, angst, sadness, alcohol/drinking, allusion to hook ups, non idol!au, post college, let me know if i missed anything

a/n : this wasn’t suppose to be very long. I kinda hate the ending but let me know whatcha think! also im still on my phone so i apologize for any mistakes made :’)

jeongin sighs heavily, vexation all over his face as he watches you from a distance, the empty seat in front of him mocking his lonesomeness. his grip on the now empty cup of coffee tightens in frustration, his knuckles turning white as the poor disposable cup collapses onto itself due to his strength, while yours still remains full on the other side of the table, likely losing all its warmth at this point.

he couldn’t quite understand what he was feeling and what he has been feeling the past few months, but it was becoming extremely irritating to constantly feel this sinking feeling in his chest whenever your attention was ripped away from him. he hated the bitter taste that filled his mouth every time you’d talk to him about your latest date, how he had to force a smile, and pretend he was happy for you even though he could feel his stomach churn over every detail you shared. it was miserable, it was becoming unbearable as time went on, yet there was no way he could ever resist an opportunity to spend time with you.

despite the difficult emotions of jealousy, the moments where he was able to have you all to himself, he felt like he was floating through time and that the stresses of life no longer existed. the impeding doom of growing up and adulthood was nowhere to be found when he was with you, as you always infected him with childlike joy and laughter he dearly missed. your very presence had become absolutely addicting, finding himself craving your radiance and wanting nothing more to bask under the warmth of your personality.

somehow, you were able to create to this addicting cocktail of placidity and nervousness that he downed every day without hesitation. one that made him fidget with bubbling shyness and excitement, yet he had complete trust in your willingness to accept him wholly with no reservations. he knew your gentle touch would handle his glass heart gingerly, never daring to overlook a single scratch or mark on it, yet you had no idea that recently, you’ve been the cause and remedy of the microscopic cracks and tears his heart had been weathering. the naked eye would never be able to notice how your ignorance to his unwavering devotion to you brutalized his tender heart, how your inability to recognize his undying love for you was slowly causing his resolve to crumble down as he struggled to contain the truth of his emotions. and despite your lack of awareness, the flustering butterflies you’d inject him with would cause his entire body to overheat, turning him into a blushing mess, which ultimately melted away the very fissures you created. the constant push and pull of this relationship was becoming exhausting and jeongin knew he needed to say something soon, as it wasn’t your fault your best friend kept his true feelings clandestine from you.

but how? jeongin knew every detail of your love life, he had witnessed you go through countless partners, and he was certain he was far off your image of a potential suitor. he had his full trust in you, knowing that if you didn’t return those very feelings, it would never change the nature of your friendship with him, however the fear of rejection was absolutely paralyzing. he wasn’t afraid of losing his friendship with you, but he no longer knew if he could trust himself to not let it drastically impact your relationship with him, not knowing what an inevitable heartbreak would do to him. his silence was his prison, and fear was his captor.

especially now, something as simple as you catching up with an old classmate at the cafe you are both at sends his mind into a seething frenzy of jealousy and insecurity. he has no idea who this person is, but he hates witnessing how much they make you laugh and how they would so inconspicuously brush a hand against your arm in some lame flirtatious attempt. he doesn’t like how much you’re enjoying the conversation, and is desperately pleaing to whatever divine entity there is to smite that person away. he should be the one making you giggle so bashfully right now, not that guy.

eventually, you make your return to jeongin, but he doesn’t miss the fact that you just exchanged numbers with that mystery man. “ah, sorry about that! i didn’t realize how much time had gone by,” you apologize sheepishly, taking your seat while lifting the now lukewarm coffee to your mouth.

jeongin does his best to push aside the whirlwind of emotions he had just gone through, “it’s okay, it happens,” he shrugs off convincingly, “who was that?”

“that was minho! he was an old classmate of mine! we worked on a group project together in freshman year,” you respond with a playful smile tugging on your lips, “he’s kinda cute, hm?”

internally, jeongin could feel himself fall to his knees and scream, but instead, all he does is hum in agreement. “he’s pretty good looking,” his eyes avoiding your gaze, “i assume you got his number?”

you chuckle at his question, “of course i did!”

“nice,” is all he could muster out as he does his best to ignore the acidic taste jealousy that was traveling up from his gut.

“mhm, maybe i’ll text him and see if he wants to go on a date tonight or something,” you muse, “what do you think?”

jeongin finally looks into your eyes with furrowed eyebrows, “tonight?”

“yeah, why not tonight?”

“y/n, we have plans tonight,” he reminds you, exasperation in his voice, “we’re suppose to go out to celebrate felix landing that job.”

your lips round out into an ‘o’ shape, “ooh, you’re right… i definitely forgot, im sorry! i guess that’s for another day.”

he rolls his eyes, both jokingly and with annoyance, “you can get laid another time,” but you don’t miss the layer of spite in jeongin’s tone.

you raise your eyebrows in confusion, “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” he mumbles while forcing a smile, yet you’re able to see through it.

“no, something’s wrong. i can tell,” you press on, “what is it? lately you’ve been so… agitated? i thought you were just stressed with work, so i wasn’t going to bring it up, but i’m starting to get worried, jeongin.”

right, you always were quick to pick up on jeongin’s mood, even if it was the slightest change, yet somehow you couldn’t pick up on the one thing he prayed for you to notice. “it’s nothing,” he responds, wishing nothing more for the topic to be changed, “don’t worry about it.”

“you know i’m going to worry about it anyway.”

“i know, i’m sorry, it’s just…” he pauses for a moment, anxiety filling him as he tried to search for some excuse you’d accept, “i’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“that’s okay, but you know i’m always here for you. promise you’ll let me know what’s going on when you’re ready?” you ask sweetly, a delicate smile of concern adorning your features as you hold out your pinky finger, “pinky promise?”

he lets out a breathy laugh, unable to suppress a loving smile at your antics as the resentment he felt earlier washes away under your inviting warmth, “pinky promise.”

જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴

the night arrives sooner than jeongin was prepared for, and he was way more buzzed than he planning on being. felix insisted on everyone taking a shot as soon as they arrived, even ordering 3 more rounds after that. it was safe to say that no one in the group was sober, but it seems like everyone was enjoying their time as they all cheer and clink their fourth shot of the night.

jeongin takes it upon himself to stay by your side the entire night, making sure you wouldn’t get yourself into any trouble in your drunken state, although he wasn’t the most reliable person in the room at the moment.

jeongin’s entire body is hot to the touch, likely the affects of the alcohol getting to him, but the drunken, lazy smile you flash him every now and then did not helping the growing red blush forming across his face. luckily, no one would expect you being the cause of his reddening face, but he was becoming uncomfortable sweaty as the night progresses.

perhaps it was his inebriated state, but jeongin often finds himself staring shamelessly at you, his heart overwhelming itself with affection at how stunning you look under the lowlights of the bar. there’s a subtle, yet enticing glow the alcohol brings out of you and he was absolutely enjoying how relaxed you seem in these moments. his heart would flutter and soar to the sky every time you’d laugh at one of his jokes, the way your eyes would become crescents and your nose would scrunch up caused him to bubble up with pride, and it had become his personal mission to continue to elicit that reaction from you.

although, much like other outings, something or someone would steal his spotlight and become the center of your attention. and it was just his luck that your old classmate, minho, happened to come to the same bar that night to celebrate something with his own friends.

usually, jeongin would be suffering from some case of anger and jealousy, but at this very moment, he wears a pitiful pout with somber eyes, his gaze catching the upsetting sight of you and minho flirtatiously giggling across the bar. he can feel himself sink deeper into his sadness, especially with the way you were leaning into minho every time he made you laugh, the way your hand would playfully swat his shoulder, god, did he wish that was him. how he envied the proximity you and minho were sharing, his heart trembling each time minho would lean into your ear to whisper something with a smirk, which clearly left you in a flustered state as you hid your face behind your hands.

this was an awfully cruel punishment, and he wonders what he had done in his past life to deserve this fate. eventually, a concerned chan notices the melancholic expression jeongin was wearing, and after following his line of sight, he was quick to connect the dots. the older man takes a seat next to jeongin and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, “you like them, right?” he asks, using his other hand to point in your direction.

jeongin turns to chan, nodding his head while mumbling a hushed yes. chan offers a sympathetic smile, “and you haven’t told them?” again, jeongin can only shake his head, unable to produce a verbal response in fear his voice is would come out in a croaked sob.

“what’s stopping you?”

jeongin furrows his eyebrows at the ridiculous question chan asked, “why would i ever tell them when they’re clearly not into me?”

chan shrugs his shoulders, “well, you never really know. even if they don’t return your feelings, wouldn’t confessing help you move on? better yet, what if they do feel the same way? there’s only one way to find out.”

jeongin’s drunken brain was too fried to properly process chan’s words, turning his attention back to you and minho as he burns holes into minho’s head. “you’re telling me i have a chance? when they’re all over that guy?”

chan’s face cringes at the sight, “i mean…” he pauses, “you might..?” he says with uncertainty coloring his voice.

“you’re not a great hype man, chan,” jeongin responds dryly.

“hey! i’m trying to help while also being realistic with you,” he exclaims while raising his hands up defensively.

jeongin sighs, “i know, it just… it just sucks.”

suddenly, jeongin notices you leaving minho’s side and are now approaching his table. chan takes note of this, patting jeongin’s back as he makes his exit, “i’ll leave you to it,” leaving him with a small wink.

you appear in front of jeongin with a giddy smile on your face, leaning into his ear to whisper, “hey, i think i’m heading out now.”

he snaps his head to you, narrowing his eyes, “what?”

“yeah, with minho!” you respond coyly, unable to hide the widening grin on your face.

“y/n, no, you’re way too drunk right now,” he replies sternly, grabbing hold of your wrist before you try to make an escape.

a whine escapes you, “but jeongin! i’ve done this before, i’ll be okay. plus, he’s drunk too!”

“no,” he huffs, “i’m not letting you. besides, you’re suppose to be here for felix, not minho.”

“i’m sure felix wouldn’t mind!”

“i definitely do mind!” his voice raises as the anger he had been suppressing finally makes its appearance.

you’re taken aback by this, worry etching onto your features once more, “are you okay?” you ask, confused as to why jeongin now cares about this, as usually he has been rather supportive of your adventures in the past.

jeongin’s not thinking before he speaks, and he swears his drunkenness is going to get him in big trouble as he curtly replies to your question, “no, no i’m not and i haven’t been for awhile. but who cares, y/n. just go have fun with your hook up.”

your mouth drops open in surprise, “jeongin, what’s wrong? talk to me,” you’re slurring over your words, but your eyes are wide with worry and concern for your best friend who was clearly being afflicted by something. “minho can wait, jeongin. what has you so upset right now?”

“i-“ jeongin squeezes his eyes in frustration, trying to bite back his response as he rubs his temples, feeling a headache come on. “you! you’re what’s wrong!” he moans out, mentally cursing at himself as he watches himself create a mess.

“… me?”

“yes, you.”

you were silent as you watch jeongin put his head down on the table, your brain trying to understand jeongin’s few words, but the alcohol was doing a number on your thinking, struggling to come to any understanding. “i’m… i’m sorry?”

“it’s not your fault,” he mumbles, still hiding his face from your gaze, “it’s my own fault. it’s not your fault that i’m an idiot.”

“no, you’re not dumb, jeongin,” you reply, “look at me. tell me what i did.”

jeongin sighs, peeling himself from the table he was slumping over to meet your concerned eyes. “nothing. you did nothing, but…” he stops himself, unsure whether he should continue with his words as a surge of nerves causes his body to run cold. the anxious anticipation filling him as the words were just on the tip of his tongue, his heart pounding through his chest as his eyes struggle to focus on yours.

“but what?”

he bites his lip as his heart clamors away in his chest, the loud chatter of the bar suddenly fading away in the background as his face grows warmer than before. is this really happening? is he really going to say it right here, right now? while you both are far from being sober? this is not how ever envisioned this moment going, this was far from it and was plenty less romantic than he would’ve liked it to be, but his mind didn’t care about the current circumstances and was operating purely off the raw emotions his body was feeling. reason and logic had flown out the window, and the liquid courage was going to force him into a confession he was not prepared for.

“i’m in love with you.”

the world stills as soon as the words left his mouth, which instantly dries from the nervousness he was feeling. his hands slightly shaking as he tried to examine your face as frantic energy takes over his once angry demeanor. your face pales at his confession, your mouth twitching as you try to conjure up an appropriate response in that moment, but he knew from the lack of excitement in your face that you did not feel the same way about him. his heart ached and writhed in pain, one he always prepared for mentally, but the anguish was far more greater than he could’ve imagined as his chest collapses onto itself, his breath becoming shallow as he held back the ugly sobs threatening to spill out his lips.

“i’m so sorry, jeongin, i… i’ve never thought of you that way,” you ramble apologetically as your wore a pitying face.

jeongin only nods, shooing you off with a hand, not fully trusting himself to open speak.

“jeongin…”

“its okay,” he whispers in a quivering voice, hurt reverberating from each syllable, tears slipping down his rosy cheeks “just… go. it’s okay.”

part of you feels wrong to leave your best friend a sobbing mess all alone, wanting nothing more to comfort him, but you knew it was best to respect his wishes when you were the cause of his pain. “okay,” you whisper, a layer of guilt washing over you as you rush over to chan, whispering in his ear asking if he would watch over jeongin for the rest of the night. chan reassures he’ll be okay and that he’ll take care of him, not before asking you where you were headed. “ah, i’ll just go home… i don’t really think i should be here anymore,” you respond.

chan opens his mouth with raised brows “with that guy?” he inquiries, pointing towards minho.

the question earns chan a stern look from you, “i’m not that mean, no, not with him. i’m taking an uber home…. alone...”

chan laughs, “hey, i’m not judging if you do… you know…” quickly making an inappropriate motion with his hands that causes to slap his arm.

“chan.”

“just saying! nothing wrong with it, but don’t worry, he’ll be in good hands! i’ll let pretty boy know you went home alone, definitely not with that guy.”

“please be serious,” you plead, not wanting to rub salt on jeongin’s wound.

“alright, don’t worry about it. i got it,” he promises, waving you off as he walks back to a tearful jeongin whose slouched in his seat. “hey bud,” he whispers affectionately, wrapping a secure arm around his shoulders, “it didn’t work out, but i’m proud of you for doing it. it’s okay, this will pass too.”

jeongin wipes his tears away, taking a deep breath in to steady his voice as he sits himself up, “it’s fine, it’s fine. i’ll get over it soon enough.”

“right, you will.”

“just sucks a lot right now.”

“it does, but it’ll pass.”

“they’re going to fuck him anyway, right?”

“no comment.”

jeongin groans once more, throwing his head back while he sniffles. he knew his chances with you were nonexistent from the start, he saw this coming long ago, but it didn’t change how agonizing the pain of heartbreak was, and he foolishly realized all the time he spent avoiding it only worsened its blow. perhaps he should’ve ripped the bandage off sooner, but at the end of the day, it was his fault for falling in love with his best friend who never showed an ounce of interest in him. though, somehow, even if you were the one to break his heart, he knew you’d be the one to help him mend it once more.

#cinnamostar writes #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #skz i.n #skz i.n x reader #skz jeongin #skz jeongin x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids jeongin #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz angst #stray kids angst

192 notes · View notes

writingdevil · 2 months

Text

The Lonely Cottage in the Woods

(Hi!This is my first time writing a fic in a certain fandom,and it's also my first unique post on my blog,despite being on this site for ages.This fic is inspired by a piece of boatem art by @wasyago )

Somewhere,deeps within the forests of the land of Hermitcraft,a small cottage stood.Tall,quiet and proud.

The cottage served as a shop for travelers,people either needing supplies for their journey,or advice on where to go next.The cottage never had a shortage of visitors in Hermitcraft,what with all the creative and determined minds that dwelled the land.

But the cottage also served as an Inn,and was proudly stated on the sign that was nailed to the front of the house for all to see-'Scar's Spectacular Shop and Inn!'

The problem though,was that nobody ever wanted to stay the night at the cottage.They would always buy the supplies and take the information that they needed,and then leave.Leaving the owner of the cottage with a heavy heart and an even heavier silence.

The man who resided in the cottage was a cheery,happy man,who lived in an incredibly silent house.He was always willing to help people on their journeys,whether it be to help them clean their wounds,or point them in the right direction.But they never stayed.They just got what they wanted and left the lonely man,in the cottage that was beginning to feel too big for him.

The man's name was Scar Goodtimes,and he's lived in his travelers shop for years now.But as the years passed,Scar wished more and more,that some people would linger at the cottage,for just a day or two.Even though Scar was quick to get over it, some sad thoughts would worm its way to the forefront of his mind.

Like how the table looked too big with just one plate of food.

Like how the house looked too clean for his liking,no clutter to be found.

Like how there was a lack of life in the house.

Bur Scar understood.Really,he did.A lot of people wouldn't be quick to trust a lone man in a forest and stay the night.Stranger danger and all that.But then he'd hear other things when people thought he couldn't hear their whispers.

Yes,true to his name,fading scars littered across his body,not an inch to be spared.There was even a large and obvious scar that slashed across the middle of his face,which he knew people ogled at,but he didn't mind.

What he did mind,were the rumours about how he got the scars.A lot of things he overhead was that he used to be a bloodthirsty arsonist,or a shady criminal who used to run an empire,and they just got more outlandish from there.

Truthfully though,Scar just got into a lot of accidents.

(Though,sometimes,he'll hear those rumors and look down at his arms,and a quiet voice in his head will wish they weren't so visible)

But it's fine.He doesn't mind being in a cottage most of his life.He's got Jellie,his precious cat,and he knows that one day,he'll get used to seeing people not sticking around,and his heart won't twist in pain so much.

Knock knock!

The first peculiar man that he meets in a while,was named Impulse.He was large,buff,and had two horns protruding out of his head,with a long tail swishing back and forth behind him,and a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hi!Are you the innkeeper here?"

"Why yes I am!My name is Scar Goodtimes,what can I do for you,good sir?"The man rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he said "Well,I was wandering around, looking for new clients in the area for builds,but I didn't notice the time,and then i saw the sign that this place was an inn,and I'd really like to avoid the mobs,if that's okay."The implied question hung in the air between them,and Scar had to physically stop himself from trying to jump out of his wheelchair.

Someone was asking to stay at his makeshift Inn!Also,the man seemed no casual about it,not a hint of suspicion or distrust in hid voice whatsoever.This completely normal offer meant so much more than Impulse would ever know.So,with an excited grin,Scar happily said "Make yourself at home!"

Which Impulse certainly did.He was respectful of his house and of Jellie,most importantly.He got settled in,and during dinner,they talked about Impulse's plans and what his goals were after today.

Impulse was quite a hard-working demon,always looking for the next farm or building to create,for others to use.He has recently just finished working on a massive factory,that had been given to a town to use itself.He was just wandering around now,waiting for the next client to build for.

Scar was very impressed with Impulse's driven nature,but when he asked a certain question,the relaxed smile fell off his face and confusion replaced it instead.

Scar had simply asked "Have you ever built something for yourself?"

That question-hit different to Impulse.His tail flicked back and forth in agitation the longer he couldn't answer,but the silence pretty much answered for him.No.He's never build anything purely for his own benefit.

Scar was quick to brighten the mood and patted his shoulder comfortingly as he said "Hey,it's okay if you haven't.Besides,you have all the time in the world to build whatever your heart desires.Just make sure I can see it when it's done."He said that last part jokingly,not expecting it to have such a weight on Impulse's heart.

Impulse didn't leave the next day.Instead,he walked up to him that morning,fiddling with his tail nervously,the complete opposite of the cheerful man he was yesterday and asked "Is it okay if I stay here for a few more days?I...might have to make a change of plans for myself."

He didn't elaborate,but he didn't need to as Scar immediately blurted out "Yes!Of course!"feeling joy return to his heart.So just like that,the cottage in the forest wasn't lonely anymore.

Impulse was a very nice addition to Scar's life.He would talk with Scar all day long and play with Jellie,and help around the house without complaints.He sometimes even brought a fresh perspective on some of Scar's own projects,making some redstone suggestions.Hewould check up on Scar if he was feeling down (a first for him) and make sure that he was happy and laughing all day.It was such a welcome change,and it may still just be two people in a big cottage,but Scar was just happy to hear another voice through the walls from time to time.

Scar didn't comprehend the hole that Impulse had started to fill in his heart,until he saw blueprints and papers scattered about on the table one day,and at the top of the paper,was titled-Personal Build! Then he knew that he had done something right.

"Um,Scar?There's someone sleeping on the front porch."

The second odd person that Scar met,didn't even come to the cottage on purpose.

Scar rushed to the door and yanked it open,only to find a young woman,sure enough,sleeping outside the cottage,her back against the doorframe.Her head kept dropping forehead as she slept,a curtain of brown hair blocking her face.

She didn't look injured in any way,but that didn't mean she wasn't in danger.Scar bit his lip,unsure of how to go about this,but then he heard Impulse walk up behind him and softly called out "Hey,ma'am?Ma'am,are you okay?"

Thankfully,that was enough to wake her as she groaned,rubbing her eyes lazily,sitting up properly,and Scar had to force himself to be patient before launching into questions.

The woman got her bearings together pretty quickly though,yawning as she looked them both in the eye.But when she did,Scar's mouth dropped slightly in awe.Both her eyes had a background of a dark void,almost like a night sky,and within them,a twinkling star in the center of her right eye,and a crescent moon in her left.

"Good morning,gentlemen."were the first things she said,her voice holding nothing but chipper positivity,as if this was a normal occurrence."It's actually almost midnight."Impulse nervously corrected,probably not equipped for a situation like this,but Scar definitely was,used to being friendly with all types of people,and this lady was no different.

"Well,nonetheless,hello to you too.My name is Scar and this is my friend Impulse."The woman smiled brightly,sticking her hand out "It's nice to meet you both too.You can call me Pearl."Scar gladly shook her hand,and was surprised to find her hands just as calloused as his own."I hope you don't mind me asking but are you-okay?You're not hurt are you?Or in any sort of danger?"

Pearl shook her head,the bell on her sleeping hat jingling loudly in the night.She crossed her legs,still sitting on the porch,and replied "Oh,no,I am perfectly fine and safe,you don't have to worry about me."but then Impulse asked in worry and confusion "But then why were you sleeping on the porch?"

At his question,Pearl's shoulders slumped and her smile shrunk,but still appeared happy as she explained "Well,I was simply living my life,far across the land from here,building farms and being self-sufficient,but then a few days ago,I kinda started to feel-bored.There was nothing new to do and I didn't really have friends to talk to,and in those moments, I tend to just look up at the night sky."then she did exactly that,and Scar copied her, watching as the stars glistened in the sky.

There was now a fondness in Pearl's voice as she continued "I always had a bad habit of letting the moon and the stars drift me away,but this time,I felt like I was being pulled towards something,so I let myself be taken away by the night,and I guess I ended up here."Pearl then shrugged,done with her story and seemingly content with her current position.

It was certainly a story,but Scar felt like she was telling the truth,if her constant beaming smile at the moon was anything to go by.He turned to look behind him,and saw Impulse giving her a small smile back,with a glint of something familiar in his eyes.One shared look between them and they were on the same page.

"Well then Pearl,this cottage also acts as an Inn,so wouldn't you rather gaze at the night sky from inside a warm house,with nice food and fluffy blankets to accompany you?"Pearl glanced down at her lap as she muttered "That does sound nice."There was a minute of silence as Pearl contemplated the offer,and Scar was beginning to worry that she'd say no,but what was she going to do then?Keep walking aimlessly while staring at the moon,with no sense of direction whatsoever?Scar wasn't so sure why he was getting so stressed over a stranger.A part of him said that it was because he was still lonely,but that was ridiculous,he had Impulse now,so his loneliness should be fixed,right?

Maybe he was still lonely,or maybe it was something deeper,something that came from his core,like how Pearl said that the moon was guiding her towards something.Either way,Scar really hoped she would stay.

Pearl hadn't answered yet,and she now had a look of frustration on as she seemed to be arguing with herself,until Impulse spoke up and said "Pearl,we can assure you that there won't be a dull moment while you're in this cottage."

Then she was sold.

Pearl added a new layer of comfort in Scar's life that he didn't know he needed.She added her own spark of life and colour within the house,and she fit right in with the two of them.

She volunteered to help improve the inside of the cottage,making it appear more lively and appealing, making its previous arrangement look bland in comparison,and Scar didn't even realise how dim it looked.

Pearl still gazed at the moon every night,walking outside and simply staring up at the sky. Sometimes,Impulse and Scar joined her. Sometimes,Scar worried that Pearl would feel another tug and would drift away from them.

But she always came back into the house,even weeks after her arrival,and if Scar noticed that,over time,she spent less time looking at the stars and more time with them,well,that was for him to cherish.

The next bizarre event happened a few weeks after Pearl's arrival.

Throughout the day,there was a weird scratching and stomping sound coming from the roof.Impulse said that he would check it out,after he was finished helping Pearl with the redstone machine for their potato crops.

Knock knock!

"I've got it!"Scar called out to his friends in the backyard as he quickly opened the door,expecting another customer.

What he saw instead,was a very tall man,easily over six feet.He wore a clean black suit,which was unusual for travelers.But what was more unusual was the crimson red parasol he held,shielding his pale face and fancy mustache from the sun.He seemed very anxious,twisting the parasol handle, and then Scar noticed that his fingers were covered in a red powder.

When he answered the door,the man took a quick glance at him and then immediately averted his eyes.Scar had the urge to rub the marks on his arms,thinking that they were grossing the stranger out,but then the man stuttered out "U-Um,hello sir."

"Hello to you too.What can I help you with?Do you need supplies for your travels?"The man shook his head and said "Actually,I needed to ask you a question."Scar tilted his head in confusion,but let the man continue.

The stranger tightened his hold on his parasol, trying to gather up some courage,so Scar shot him a soft smile and the man looked stunned at his patience,and that seemed to make him relax enough to speak.

"Have you-um-been hearing weird noises today?" Scar nodded,becoming more curious as to who this man was.Was he an exterminator or something kind of hunter?Surely not,with the attire he had on,nor did he act like he even wanted to be having this interaction.

At his nod,the man sighed harshly,and Scar caught a flash of fangs in his mouth.A vampire,huh?Well that would certainly explain the parasol in broad daylight.

The man began to stammer,his attention much too focused on trying to peer inside his house rather than making a coherent sentence.His eyes were flickering to every corner that wasn't Scar,and when Scar opened his mouth to finally get to the bottom of this,there was suddenly a voice in his left ear yelling "BOO!"

Scar shouted in fright,jumping in his wheelchair as a new voice cackled in his ear.The other man standing before him lost all his nerves as he scolded the new figure "I knew you'd be around here,Grian!Why did you fly off without me?"

Scar panted in shock,a hand on his chest,and looked to the left,finding a man hanging upside down from the porch roof,a wide and cheeky grin on his face.He then dropped,then swooped back up into the air,bright red wings shimmering in the sun. He flew around in the air for a few seconds,circling his friend's head as he replied "Because,Mumbo Jumbo,you slept in and I was bored of waiting for you to wake up."

"I slept in because I was up all night fixing the redstone machine that you broke!"

"Well you shouldn't have left those levers and buttons all over the place!You know I'm weak to them!"

As the tall man,now known as Mumbo Jumbo, sighed tiredly,the new avian friend lowered himself and used his friend's arm as a perch, glancing at Scar curiously.

Oh,these two were trouble,and Scar liked trouble.

The guy that spooked him,Grian,was studying him closely,and Scar was beginning to feel like some sort of prey.He had messy,sandy blonde hair and brown,beady eyes that seemed to stare into his soul.He wore a thick,red jumper,almost matching the colour of his wings,and when Scar looked into his eyes,all he saw was mischief and chaos.

"Listen,I'm really sorry about giving you a fright there.I was just sitting on your roof,messing with Mumbo,and then I heard you talking and just wanted to mess with you a little bit."Grian explained,and Scar obviously forgave him,not that he was angry in the first place.He knew that he was just in the middle of two friends playful banter.

Scar waved him off "No need to apologise,just made my poor heart skip several beats and made my life flash before my eyes."the three men chuckled lightly,then fell into a comfortable silence, which was weird considering that they've only talked for a few minutes.

But then Impulse's voice called out from the back of the house "Hey Scar!Can you lend a hand with this redstone machine?"

"Redstone?"Grian said,eyes drawn to the voices of Pearl and Impulse deep in the house.He suddenly flapped his wings,almost hitting Mumbo's parasol in the process,who grumbled in annoyance and leaned away as Grian floated in the air.

"Mumbo's great at redstone,let him try!"then just straight up flew into the house without a second glance at Mumbo.Scar chuckled as he heard Grian's cheerful voice mixed in with Pearl and Impulse's surprised ones,but Mumbo's harsh sigh brought concern out.

He seemed more relaxed now,from knowing where his friend was,but still seemed stressed as he said "I'm really sorry about him,mate.He kinda just does what he wants,and trouble tends to follow him, along with me I guess.I completely understand if you want us to leave you alone.After all-"Mumbo let a bitter,low laugh out and Scar saw that his eyes were filled with muted anger and pain as he muttered "-not many people take too kindly to our antics."

Scar had already made up his mind the second Grian startled him,but now his heart was set and longed to see what these antics were.So Scar smiled and made way for Mumbo to come in and said "Make yourself at home."

Boy,did they make themselves at home.

Mumbo and Grian were like the last pieces of the puzzle that needed to fit into Scar's empty heart. Mumbo's creative spin on redstone helped the cottage out tremendously,and even when it sometimes didn't work,nobody scolded him,which Mumbo always expected.Mumbo was just as much of a trickster as Grian,poking fun at one another whenever possible,but tended to keep quieter about his hijinks,but slowly,he got louder.

Grian was a hurricane of trouble himself,and Scar,Impulse and Pearl ended up contributing to that chaos more often than not.The avian always had a prank up his sleeve,and everyone always ended up laughing by the end of it.

Grian also loved building things,with beautiful and detailed designs,but he never got around to finishing the back of,for some reason.

He would swoop and glide around in the sky,with grace and with expert precision,as he performed so many different tricks and turns in the air,as if he had been confined to the ground his whole life. Sometimes,Grian would simply perch somewhere and watch as the sun went down,wings relaxed but looking unkempt from a day of flying.

When Scar offered to help preen his feathers and tidy them up (He's seen Mumbo do it countless times) he was surprised when a flash of fear shot through the avian's eyes for a split second,and Scar understood how big of a deal it was when Grian still held his wing out for him without a word.

Impulse.A sweet workaholic.

Pearl.A cheerful night lover.

Mumbo.An anxious genius.

Grian.A pesky prankster.

This was what Scar was missing.A family.

So when one day,months later,if Grian casually brought up needing to get a bigger house to fit all five of them,well,nobody needed to see Scar cry tears of joy,at the fact that his friends were now his home,and not the once lonely cottage that stood in the middle of the woods.

#hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #grian #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #goodtimeswithscar #boatem #my writing

60 notes · View notes

rakkiankh · 2 years

Text

So this is a sequel to this post I did about Claude's supports in Three Houses. I've been compiling as much information about his backstory as I can since it wasn't as fleshed out as Dimitri and Edelgard's, and with the release of Three Hopes a lot more has been revealed about it.

I'm also including things that were revealed in developer interviews and the Cindered Shadows dlc that I just never added to the previous post.

Claude's actual name is Khalid, and he is the youngest known prince of Almyra. Despite having at least one older sibling he's the king's chosen heir

Claude's only known sibling is his older half brother Shahid, who openly hates him

Claude's father is not named and is referred to exclusively as the King of Almyra

Claude's mother is named Tiana von Riegan

Claude's uncle was named Godfrey von Riegan

Claude's grandfather was named Oswald von Riegan

Shahid is clearly desperate to gain his father's favor so he can be the next king of Almyra, but through his poorly thought out strategies and blatant want to start a war with Fodlan its also made quite clear he's a bad fit

Nader says that the King is very obvious in his favoritism, and that Claude is his clearly his favorite son. It's definitely contributed to how much Shahid hates his brother

When Claude first showed up to Fodlan it was completely out of the blue and at minimum all he had was a letter to Judith from his mother asking her to take care of him. Whether Oswald knew where Claude came from is uncomfirmed

It is confirmed that when he left he likely only told his mother and possibly Nader where he was going, because according to Nader the reason why Shahid was able to attack the border without interference is that the King has been busy worrying himself sick trying to figure out where Claude went

According to Nader, when he and the King were younger they used to sneak across the border and travel around Leicester to have a good time

A nameless npc states there is a story of the daughter of a certain noble falling in love with an Almyran prince during one such escapade, who then abandoned her house to return to Almyra with him and become his queen (this npc also says she doesn't believe it's true which appears to be the general consensus)

Almyra's terrain is made up of prairies, deserts, and mountain ranges

According to a nameless npc, the majority of Western Almyra speaks the same language as Fodlan, and even lacks a notable change in accent. Eastern Almyra mostly speaks is own separate language

Almyra has giant merchant ships that they use to trade with other countries, while Leicester doesn't. The Golden Deer manage to use a few in the war because apparently Nader just stuck the paperwork in the King's face while he was half asleep and he didn't even notice what he was signing

@jugdraldefender pointed a few things i missed in the tags so I'm editing them in, along with some others I forgot

After the chapter where Claude either leaves or is killed (Azure Moon and Crimson Flower specifically) an assassin can be found in Abyss that will tell Byleth about how his target was a prince that either got away or was killed, depending on your choice

During an optional paralogue in Golden Wildfire, Claude tells Judith that he's the Prince of Almyra. She takes it rather well and even stops calling Claude 'boy'

While most characters believe Claude's cover story that he's an offshoot from house Reigan who just happened to inherit a crest, Judith, Holst, and Balthus all could tell he was Tiana's son and comment on it several times

Outside of the optional paralogue the only one who ever figures out Claude's other side of the family is Balthus, who researches it for Count Gloucester. He never shares this information with him, but he does get Claude to promise to reintroduce Balthus to Tiana so he can get some closure over his first crush in exchange for his silence. Claude comments that he wonders if his father will get the chance to kill Balthus before Tiana does it herself

#fire emblem #fire emblem warriors three hopes #fire emblem three hopes #fire emblem warriors #fire emblem three hopes spoilers #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe3hopes #fewth #few3h #claude von riegan #khalid von riegan

1K notes · View notes

strawbubbysugar · 10 months

Text

So(u)l Chapter 2

Chapter 2!! :3c time for Y/N to make their first appearance! Here's the AO3 link to read it there as well! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48206098/chapters/121565137#workskin -------

“What does this image make you think of?”

You fidgeted nervously with your fingers, taking in and examining the image being shown to you by the interviewer. It was the sun, bright and shiny on a cloudless day.

“Er ..” you paused. Did they want your honest answer, or your interview answer? .. you were probably going to give them your honest one.

“Warm. Hah, obviously.” You chuckled nervously. “But also a little overwhelming? I’m more of a night owl, if I’m being honest.” You smiled, hoping that would get you extra brownie points. The job had been labelled as being after hours, so hopefully being a night owl was a checkmark in your column for being hired.

You needed this job. You DESPERATELY needed this job. You were in your mid 20’s, and every other person you knew .. it felt like they already figured out their lives. They knew who they were, what they were doing, where they were headed.. While you felt like you were floating through life, especially once you’d graduated. You didn’t know why you’d gone for an engineering degree, you were never one for structured schooling and .. well, that was about as structured as it got. Besides being a doctor. But you kind of were a doctor! Just for computers.

You imagined a robot in a hospital gown with a thermometer in its exhaust vent and a giggly smile tried to force its way onto your face. You held it down- no. This was a serious job interview.

This was going to be your big break. You were applying to be an engineer for fazbear entertainment, specifically for the massive, all powerful Freddy fazbear’s mega pizzaplex. Getting to put your degree to use by repairing and upkeeping the impressive animatronics housed inside a giant amusement park would be like a dream come true. Not only would you feel like you hadn’t wasted your money and time on your degree, you’d get to see the insanely cool robots, see how they worked up close- maybe even get to peek at the code that allowed for them to be so advanced!

You’d never had a chance to visit the pizzaplex before- it was .. significantly out of your budget, and you couldn’t justify spending an entire paycheck on a single day somewhere. Even if it was a super cool arcade slash indoor amusement park slash laser tag slash.. jeez, you could keep going! You knew, in the back of your mind, how terrible the company was. Of course you did. You weren’t stupid. The rumours that piled up around the company were uncountable, and they grew by the day, to the point where it was hard to tell if people were just making them up to jump on the bandwagon.

They did make you a little nervous. As did the idea of working for such a large monopoly- one that you’d found out during the interviewing process wouldn’t have you interacting with many other coworkers. Out of a lack of need, given their robots, or out of a high turnover rate.. you couldn’t tell.

Long nights, all alone, surrounded only by animatronic robots and the liminal space of a completely empty entertainment centre. No interruptions for small talk. Maybe even getting to enjoy some attractions after hours.. was that scary?

.. nah. That still sounded like a dream.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the interviewer clearing her throat. “Did you hear me?” She asked.

You blinked, glancing to the image she had on her screen, currently turned to face you. It was the moon, on a clear night, small silvery stars shining around it. You smiled again, your best ‘please god hire me’ smile, and nodded. You hadn’t heard her, but you could take a wild guess as to what she’d asked.

“Calm.” You responded. “Relaxing. Is that the same as calm? Peaceful. Er- kind of just- being a thesaurus here.” You rambled, continuing to smile. You didn’t know what made you always feel like you had to fill silences, but it was hard to escape the urge. “Oh- uh- did you need anything .. more?”

This was weird. This was *really* weird, right? These were the type of questions you’d get asked in a therapists office, not at a job interview. It was fairly invasive, and was this lady even qualified to determine what they meant? Even you didn’t delve that deep into your own psyche. Surely they were allowed to, if they were asking. The Fazbear corporation didn’t seem like the type to leave themselves open to being sued. So it had to be .. at least *somewhat* legal.

You didn’t wait for her to repeat the same question question as she began pulling up the next image. “If I can talk about the sun one again-“ you started nervously, worried now that you’d made the wrong impression. “I think it makes me think of .. friends? Like- the feeling of being with someone. Comfortable- like-“

She cut you off before you got too poetic, showing an image of an alligator next. “What does this make you think of?” She asked, before beginning to type out her notes on your first two responses.

You raised an eyebrow. An alligator? … you had a strong feeling she was asking about your gut instinct, but you couldn’t help but feel like she was trying to see what you’d instinctively feel about the glamrocks. After all, you’d be spending a lot of time with them. You’d get to know them, hopefully, and see how they were able to be so lifelike.

You chewed your lip in thought, deciding to say the first thing that came to mind. “Respect. I mean, they haven’t evolved past what they are right now in.. hundreds of thousands of years- you gotta respect that. They’ve found their niche and they really stuck to it. Almost like crabs. Oh- did you know-“ you cut yourself off with a big smile, biting your tongue. “.. respect. Yes.”

An interview was no time for fun facts, as much as it pained you to not begin your tangent on carcinization.

She nodded, ignoring the sentence you’d left hanging. She pulled up an image of a chicken next. You almost laughed. It felt so silly to be being quizzed on this, about how you felt about the real world counterparts to the very much not realistic robots.

You wondered for a moment why they’d shown you the sun and moon first. Maybe they were testing if you really would be able to handle a night shift.

“Cute.” You began thoughtfully. “And super underrated as pets. They’re really good for your lawn, too. They eat .. bugs.” You smiled sheepishly after almost telling her another fun fact. So much smiling- not that you weren’t already an incredibly smiley person, but your cheeks were starting to hurt.

She typed out her notes, taking a worryingly long time before showing the next image. A wolf. A stock image you were sure you’d seen on the shirt of a very cool grandma you’d seen at a bus stop once.

“Cool. I mean- obviously. That’s .. that’s kinda the standard opinion on wolves, huh? Man’s old best friend. Cool. And respectable. Like- I respect them. As a creature.”

She raised an eyebrow slightly, but otherwise didn’t reveal her opinion on your opinions. More typing, before showing the grizzly bear.

“Pizza.” You said firmly. The interviewer blinked slowly. “.. it .. I mean, I think bear, I think Freddy, I think pizza.” Your smile wobbled, as you could feel your joke falling flat.

“… strong.” You eventually relented to her calm silence. “… there’s a lot of stuff you can relate to bears, uh. Is that good?”

She nodded, apparently much more approving of this answer as she typed it out.

“This is the last image before the final questions we have for you, please let us know what you think about this image.”

You craned your head to see, as she hadn’t turned it quite far enough to be able to see it without the glare from the window masking it. It was a gigantic spider, one of those ones you hear about being in Australia. The reason why kids programming there can’t say spiders are friendly and shouldn’t be squished.

“… uh.” You glanced up at her then back to the screen. “Cool also.” It wasn’t a lie. A spider that big was cool, even if it was equally terrifying and making you itchy just to look at it.

She nodded, turning the monitor back to herself and typing out her last notes for that section. “Thank you.”

You nodded again back to her, beginning to feel like a bit of a bobble head, tapping your fingers on your knees as you leaned back. Whew. That was certainly more interesting than the half hour you’d had to talk about your qualifications.

She continued typing before glancing back to you, speaking as she finished up. “Have you met your soulmate?”

You blinked a few times at the question. Of course. Of course she would ask that. That was all anybody cared about. Even in a job interview. After the psychotherapy questions, you really should’ve been more prepared for this.

“… are you legally allowed to ask that?” You tried to joke, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

“Yes. It’s a standard question, we ask since people your age usually begin experiencing the signals and that can interfere with work. We like to know so we know if we need to expect several days or weeks off in order to find your partner at some point and get acquainted before returning to work.”

You picked at a loose thread on your jeans, smile slowly turning more forced. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I don’t have one. I haven’t had any signals.”

She raised an eyebrow again. “.. none? Even children get-“

“Yep!” You interrupted, embarrassed talking about this to a complete stranger. “I’m colourblind, so.”

She’d been entirely stoic this entire interview, but that suddenly changed as she flushed, feeling embarrassed herself upon realizing how deeply she’d intruded. “Oh- I’m sorry. It’s so rare we- we don’t usually-“

“It’s okay!” You interrupted again, this time to save her from her embarrassment. “It is pretty rare! I’m alright, I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it. It just means you guys will get one hundred percent of my attention.” You nodded, smiling wide. “Even if I did have a soulmate, they’d have to come to me. But I don’t! I’m pretty sure I don’t. I’ve never felt any tugs, or anything. I know other colourblind people can feel the more uh.. tangible signals. But .. I’ve never felt em! So. No harm no foul!”

She gave you a pleasant, professional smile, eager to finish this awkward conversation. “Alright. Last question- how soon can you start?”

You blinked, before beaming. “I-immediately!” You answered as soon as your mind caught up to the implication. “As soon as you need me! .. does this mean I’m hired?”

You just had to confirm. To make sure. You had a terrible habit of assuming things, and this was something you really had to make sure of.

“Your resume was .. impressive, in terms of your schooling. You’ve done a lot of retail gigs, so I know you can work well with schedules. You answered all the questions satisfactorily, and your responses to the instinct questions were.. well. Interesting.” She paused. “In a good way. So, yes. I’ll need to run it by the head engineer, and a few other higher ups, but between you and me I say.. welcome to the Fazbear family.”

You jumped out of your chair, pumping your fists in pure delight and excitement. “Yes!! Yesyesyesyes!!” You cheered.

It took a few moments for your excitement to die down before you took your seat again, clearing your throat. “I look forward to working with you.” You held out your hand, very professionally.

She took it, shaking it firmly. “I’ll send you an email by the end of tonight to let you know if we’ll move forward. Come to the pizzaplex tomorrow at 10 pm, and I’ll make sure someone gives you a tour.”

You were beside yourself with delight, nodding over and over, almost enough to make you dizzy. You could finally start building your life, figuring yourself out- and it all started tomorrow at 10, if your luck held out. You hoped it would.

#fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #y/n #fnaf security breach #fnaf moon #au #soulmate au #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #daycare attendant x y/n #settin up that slooooow burn we goin full braising here #chapter two #so(u)l #so(u)l fic

123 notes · View notes

seurie · 2 months

Note

Hey Aeri, can you do a past life reading for Suga?

suga's past life + its significance

right off the bat, i see this reading will look very different from jungkook's reading because i see multiple different lives that are affecting his current life.

[444] clairvoyance tldr; past life tw; none

all readings are genuine and done truthfully. if you have any questions or suggestions, please send them to my asks. positive vibes only!

AERI 🤍

#1. i see him as a painter, an artist. there's sun shining into his studio, and he has an outfit on that reminds me of great britain fashion in the 1500-1600s. he is a commoner who has made a name for himself by painting portraits and landscapes. at first, upper class nobles were not fond of him because of his social class, but because of his great attention to detail in his paintings and the artistic flair that he adds to each of his paintings, he had an affluent family sponsor him which made his paintings well-known and well-recognizable. i see him not constantly lacking a lot of sleep because he gets straight to work again if he has an idea that pops up in his head. his fame and popularity did not really matter to him because he viewed himself as a true artist who cared about the quality of his craft. i think he was very particular about who he decided to take in as his clients. i just keep seeing him painting and painting and painting. nothing else. i do see a very short glimpse of woman with light ginger red hair and she's in this light green almost grey-ish dress. he has a bit of a difficult perosnality <lol> and doesn't like having people around him, but he seems really comfortable around this woman. i think this woman was his muse. i don't think this woman is that significant to his current life.

#2. i see someone tasting wine and savoring its taste. he sits in silence during the night with his eyes closed. i sense that he is rich? a self-made businessman, a merchant. this is a man who is intelligent and has a keen eye for looking through people. he knows how to handle deals that benefit him and his business. i see him having a family, a wife that is too blurry for me to see, and 2-3 children. he has brown hair, brown beard, a hearty laugh, and a dad belly. he is very nice to get along with but not one you should underestimate because he is a very sharp guy. he values trust and loytalty in a business partnership, but his family comes first before everything. everyone is aware that they should not cross his boundaries or else the deal ends there.

#3. i'm feeling a bit of an egyptian or perhaps arabic influence here? the outfit and jewelry is definitely egyptian, but the kind of music i'm hearing, the instrumental sound, has a distinctly arabian sound to it. i see a woman twirling and dancing. she is very fit and greatly desired by many men. she, however, rejects all offers and stays single. she is very good at discerning people's intentions and is not particularly close to anyone; keeps to herself. she gets to choose who she wants to have a fling/relationship with (no ties) and enjoys herself confidently. i think she is part of some entertainment circle and is happy that she can travel with them and keep her freedom as an independent woman.

#4. i see a conductor, violinist, and pianist, accompanied by an orchestra. i think the pianist is suga and the violinist is his lover, while the conductor is a dear friend of theirs. it's like honey is dripping from his eyes as he watches her playing the violin. he matches his playing with her and he is completely mesmerized by how she plays with so much emotion and bravada. i believe this is during the romantic era of music, so around 1830s to 1900s. i don't really see anything else regarding their relationship, but i do see him sipping wine here as well with a candle lit during the night, working on new repertoire. i also see him on the bed, sitting, reading sheet music or a book with his lover next to him. she's asleep and he looks over and smiles, patting her head gently with his hand. i don't think they necessarily married or had children together, but the love i feel here is really deep and pure. she was his partner and muse. i really love the warmth that i feel here.

#5. i see him as a monk. he is sitting still and meditating. i also see him training, but i don't really know what style of moves he is mastering. this life feels like a distinct focus and reflection on the self. letting go of any sexual desires or any deep attachment he has with the world. it feels like he is a buddhist in china. he has quite a fulfilling life here and feels a lot of comfort in being by himself.

#6. this is a really brief one, but i see him in korea during the japanese colonial era. i see him looking around and then screaming something before throwing a bomb at someone higher-up. he's shot dead, but it causes some great casualties for the japanese soldiers. i think he had a wife here and maybe one teen daughter, but i don't see the daughter here and the wife does not seem to have a significant soul tie with him. i just see her telling him that he might die and wants him to reconsider, but he says that he doesn't mind and would do anything to contribute to his country's freedom.

him now. before i mention anything else, i would like to say that he has a very artistic soul. he is very creative and innovative, and i think in all of his lives, he pursued a career that let him express different aspects of himself. it makes sense why he is the way he is right now, based on his past lives. something i noticed from #1 and #4 is that the use of his hands feels very significant. he is probably very good at using his hands as a device for creation. this makes sense considering the fact that he produces so much amazing music and writes lots of lyrics for the band. i also feel that his life as a merchant is what helped contribute to developing his eye for people and their intentions, which is why he is probably very good at discerning who he should and shouldn't trust in this life. he is also very good at speaking as you can see on shows. i also see him just closing his eyes a lot and sitting silently, which reminds me of his life as a monk. overall, all of his past lives really helped him develop some key qualities he needed for this lifetime. i don't really sense much significant romance to point out for this lifetime, but the lover from #4 feels very significant to me. there's a possibility that yoongi might choose to live alone for this lifetime which is completely fine, but i do think that that lover is also currently alive as well. don't quote me on this since i'm unable to tell the proper age, but i do sense quite an age gap(?) between that lover and yoongi for this lifetime, so i don't think it'll be possible for him to be lovers with her in this lifetime again unless they're both willing to accept judgment from the public. it does make me really sad though. i wish they could be lovers again because that was so endearing to see. just two lovers very comfortable with each other, in love.

#seurie #aeri.reads #bts tarot #yoongi tarot

26 notes · View notes

liliesandparchment · 1 year

Text

[This little baby is now called To Suspend Time and the full version is posted on AO3 here. It is a short 4.9k words which is one of my SHORTEST EVER and I am extremely proud of the fact as I am incapable of writing short ANYTHING. Please show some love! And I'm sorry for the delay but a huge huge thanks to everyone who supported the little parts here on Tumblr, you have my deepest affection forever and ever. ❤️]

Bridgerton AU 02x08 onwards: Part 5

~Edwina~

The strangest, most startled and uncomfortable silence followed the Viscount’s words. She had stared at him throughout his rather passionate discourse but tried to pull her gaze away for propriety’s sake; he had shrugged off his brother and stalked to the other end of the room, jaw stiff and his back ramrod straight. Distance did not exactly serve to hide his struggle to find air, however, and she was now insightful enough to understand that the semblance of calm he seemed desperate for was something only Kate could ever bring him.

Lady Danbury looked properly exasperated by the circumstances, which Edwina could understand but honestly could not truly sympathize with. She was still struggling to process the fact that the Viscount, who had been ready to marry her, now wished to marry Kate; for whatever false reasons him and his brother would have them believe, they all very obviously knew the truth.

She also realized suddenly that while she was now, thankfully, aware of the feelings that had been brewing, she had extremely foolishly misjudged the true depth of how badly bungled, for the lack of a better word, things had to be from both their ends for the situation to reach the level of skewedness that it had. Naturally, she had spent more time dissecting her sister’s actions and feelings and words and only now, as she watched her once to-be husband’s flexed jaw and shaking shoulders, did she consider the other side of the coin.

Because that was simply what they were. Two sides of the same coin that was traded too frequently and loosely, only for people to really forget its true value. It was clear to her now more than ever as the rush of memories almost threated to blind her with the stark clarity with which they presented the rather obvious clues she had missed for a good few months.

And she had to simply think of things before the disastrous dinner because she was now sure that once she had moronically declared her love for the Viscount, Kate would have begged him to go forward with the original engagement, despite being completely aware of both of their true feelings by then.

And he had agreed, the stupid stupid love struck man. He had agreed and resigned himself to think of her beautiful Kate as the thorn removed from the blossoming flower of our lives. It was that, more than anything else, that cemented for her how similarly idiotically both the individuals in question operated when faced with fulfilling the wishes of those that they loved the most. It was revolting and terrifying and beautiful at the same time. She simply could not make up her mind.

The first time itself that she had seen the Viscount, in fact, now that she recalled, had been because Kate had tactlessly announced at their first ever ball – I know that gentleman.

Of course, neither of them had acknowledged each other’s presence outside the formalities when they had been introduced but now that she thought about it, she remembered the double take from the Viscount before his eyes had widened, stuck to her beautiful sister’s tall frame and then lowered resolutely and permanently as they had greeted each other.

She recalled Kate’s words the next morning when she had finally provided her list to the three of them with rapidly increasing comprehension – Lord Bridgerton is quite adept at conveying false first impressions. The actual circumstances of their first meeting really provided much needed perspective and context for a lot of things, indeed.

The tiff at the races was unexpected but not exactly a surprise to her – Kate had always been steadfast, stubborn and hard to impress. And it had only reached new levels when she had been pitted against the Viscount but she couldn’t decide if it had been because she had felt personally slighted by his actions and words or simply because they were both so similar that they each couldn’t help but push back at the other. After all, that was definitely what the Viscount had done with the appalling gift-giving and the dramatic display at the soiree, had it not?

And after that, well, it had simply been the final turn down the doomed road, hadn’t it? Just as Lady Danbury had put it. She now suspected that something untoward must have happened during the hunt, as Kate had finally decided to grudgingly acknowledge the decency of the man in whatever vague terms as had been possible for her at the moment, after that particular event.

They had, of course, both been rather transparent about their true feelings on the matter. At least, now that she was shifting her focus to the Viscount, she could find the instances piling up in an unhelpful sort of proof of her own delinquency. It included, but was definitely not limited to his odd focus on arguing with Kate at the races, his shock and distress – and not displeasure as she had originally assumed – during the end of his dance with Kate when he had presumably found out about her future plans, the flash of guilt on both their faces when they had returned to see them with Mr. Brookes, standing a touch too close with the ring stuck on her finger and their eventual panicked glances at each other while it was being tugged off, his observation about Dorset – that whole conversation really – and the stubborn insistence to help her off that had resulted in the unfortunate tumble.

And then, of course, she remembered Kate and her lingering stare, of course she had been a right bloody fool, hadn’t she? It had always been there –

She was snapped out her stupor by the arrival of the footman who proceeded to announce that the Doctor was finished and suddenly, all the air from the room had evaporated and Edwina could only clutch at her mother’s hand as they both shot up from their seats.

Unwillingly and finally, by complete co-incidence, she met the Viscount’s eyes again as they all edged forward to wait for the man and all her previous musings fled her as she met his eyes and simply saw her own painful anticipation reflected back at her. It did not matter what had happened and how it had come to this moment. The only thing that mattered was that there was someone who clearly loved Kate as much as she did, perhaps if not more and she would be damned if she let anyone stand in the way of her sister’s happiness, be it herself, Lady Danbury or the whole damn London ton.

Fin.

To Suspend Time - Find full version on AO3 here. Thank you for reading!💝✨

11 notes · View notes

shroomidude · 8 months

Text

“I died and then I woke up again, that's just how it was. I should've been dead and I woke up again.”

“It felt like being thrown out of a bad dream, you know? That panicky energy you feel afterwards, as you sit and wonder whether or not you're still alive. Like an almost out of body experience, I guess you could call it. Well, I thought I'd meet the end the way my Ma always told me I'd meet it. "It" is hell, in this case. My mother was… a bit of a religious nut case. Instead, I was met with an elevator.”

“That elevator…”

She lets out a deep, stressed sigh. Her brows are furrowed, the words trying to come to mind.

“It was surrounded by smoke, and I was drawn to it. There was something…off about it. I couldn't focus at all because my mind was still spinning. But, for some reason, I was walking towards the doors. With my head high and chest puffed, I was walking towards the elevator. And it opened for me, I didn't push a button or anything. As I walked towards it, those doors were opening. I stopped just outside of its entrance, and it made that familiar elevator ding.

For whatever reason, that little noise calmed me. I suddenly felt like I was at home. Well, I walked inside that box, for whatever reason I was confident as could be. My hand moved on its own and pushed the button. I think I blacked out, maybe?”

“Then I remember waking up inside the elevator, and I knew who the man in the room with me was. I don't think I'd ever met him before. His name was Gideo— well, is Gideon. He was apparently working with me, which at the time I don't think I should've known. It's not like he would've told me we were working together himself, he's a prick. I just knew. Exactly like how I knew what I was doing in the elevator, and I knew what the markings on me were.

I don't think I've ever felt so calm in a situation so jarring. There were so many things happening at once and yet I could only feel that spinning sensation. If what I knew was true, I should've been going mad in that elevator. It wasn't a god, no. It was Heldocht, something far beyond me. Well, this was around the time I realized I hopped from one life to another, more complicated one. Somehow I managed to squeeze in a forever job along with it.

Which really wasn't the worst. It was lonely, sure. It's not like Gideon hung around much. But he had his own things to do, I believe. I was “fixed” to be able to handle lack of interaction, and general loneliness, among some other things. I could handle those huge feelings far better than I could when I was alive. At the time I barely felt at all. It's a strange adjustment process, within the elevator. You have to find your own way to properly feel again. It’s like it erased bits of my identity so I could change for it. To become better….but who am I to assume?”

She chuckles a bit, finding humor in it all. It’s all very funny isn’t it? Going from a fun, but stressful situation where she had a found family…to a completely neutral environment, with almost an entire lack of anything. There’s nothing to stress over, save for the times she had to defend herself. Sometimes things from the afterlife try to breach from their hold, it never ends well. They just go back to their hold.

She looks back, seeming to realize how long the silence has dragged on for. Uncomfortably, she clears her throat.

“Ahem— anyways, while I was in this funky period where I was trying to figure myself out, I was also doing my job. It’s nothing much, all I have to do is transport souls of the dead to their destination. It’s really not all that complicated, either. The inside of the elevator is huge, so it can carry the souls and whatever energy they hold with them. You just press a button and go. The trips seem long, but in reality time moves much quicker within the elevator to keep up with the many strings of the universe. I’d have to count in millenniums for how long I’ve been there. Even with all the time I’ve been, sometimes I still feel like I’m that anxious 16 year-old kid back in U.A.. I just chalk it up to being homesick. Though with how time moved in my world, I would’ve been around twenty one or twenty two, right? Twenty one or twenty two, yeah.

I never really did move on from back then, I’ve just become numb to the memories.”

“I dunno how long it took until I learned I could “sink in” to myself. I can delve into my consciousness and dig through my thoughts, memories, and whatnot. Even the things I’ve repressed have come back to me. I like to look through my times back at school. Sometimes, I pause those moments just so I can see everyone’s face again. It’s nice. They’re happy. I looked at myself…and I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling. My memories are like…uhm… kind of like snow globes, I guess. The ones with music boxes that can move, y’know? They’re all scattered around me. I can enter those and just— revisit my memories. It’s nice sometimes, painful other times, and sometimes I’ve felt nothing at all.”

She appears to get lost in thought for a moment, her eyes become distant. It’s a dead, empty stare. She blinks a bit, and she regains that life to her eyes. She looks fine.

“Learned I had more powers, but I lost my quirk along with it. I don’t think I really cared at the time, that quirk held bad memories. It held ties to a family I no longer serve. It wasn’t useful to me, it wasn’t helping me, and after a while it just made me sick. So, I’m fine with no longer having a quirk in my system. An upside to the elevator “fixing me,” as Gideon puts it. I thought it was a silly way of putting it at the time. I still do. But he’s a muddy bull’s dick, so I really don’t give a damn about him. He put me through hell whenever he got the chance, so I always got a bit happier there when he left. It was a small joy, just having some peace and quiet. I think I learned to cherish solitude.

Whenever I had the time, I kept sinking deeper and deeper within my memories— within my head. It looked a bit like I was taking a nap, and I was still somewhat aware of what was going on around me. I could pop out of it to move on to the next floor for the next batch of souls. I-it starts to get messy after a while. Not that I can mess with my memories, it's just that- sometimes I’d uncover things I didn’t want to see. And that’d mess with me. A lot. So, after a while I started to try and do it less. I just wanted to see my friends again, you know? It’s been more than beyond our times, and yet I still can’t get over anything. I can’t move on. Sometimes I feel stuck in time, but everything’s still moving. I can’t stop it.

I wish time could just wait a moment. Even if it was for a second, just so I can catch up. Take a breath and catch up, that’s all I want to do.”

“I’ve entered some of the afterlives before, most certainly haven’t seen them all yet. I’m just glad that I’m not part of them. The elevator feeds off of their energy, whether it’s a punishment or a reward or something in between, it feeds off of their energy and whatever comes from that. That’s all it is, pure energy. The souls are made of pure energy, whatever they let off is pure energy. All it is for the elevator is a full-course meal. It eats from them, lets them make more energy, then it eats again. It’s a working cycle where everything gets what it gets. Their end is their end. Whether it’s what they deserve or not was never part of the question. It’s random selection, or confined to their beliefs. Whatever happens, it’s what they got. It’s not like they could have a say in the matter.”

She looks down, clearing her throat again as she nervously rubs her thighs up and down through her pants. Her mind was starting to race and mumble and it was driving her crazy. She couldn’t be here anymore, telling this to people who couldn’t hear. It’s insane, isn’t it? The way she talks, she speaks like they’re strangers. Frozen in time, the memory of her friends was right in front of her. Her breathing went ragged and she just kept staring at them all. Every one of them.

It all disappears, and she’s back in the elevator. Surrounded by souls which desperately need to move on, she shoves her way through the crowd and pushed the button. She uses her sleeves to wipe away the damp feeling on her face.

It’s time to move on to the next floor.

#shroomis ocs #shroomis lore #josephines madness #the elder hole #(even if its only a tiny mention)#gideons prickery

0 notes

transporttoanotherplace · 1 year

Text

Goodbye December and the year 2022. What a wonderful year for me book-wise. I am going to enjoy writing my post for my upcoming book goals for the year. But for now let's focus on wrapping up December.

My book goal: 7 books and I went overboard and read 18 books.

These three were in my goal list but I only finished 2. The First to Die at the end is a 4-star ⭐⭐⭐⭐ read. Almost as good as "They Both Die at the End" (thank you Adam Silvera for those references to the future and for realizing how the books tie in together) but the love story to me isn't as captivating as it was between Rufus and Mateo. There is so much that you can do with a word where deathcast exists and I enjoyed being able to explore that more in-depth and all the questions it raised for the medical community in particular. Us as an audience knowing that Deathcast is real and having the knowledge of how it works makes it so difficult to read this as society experiences Deathcast for the first time.

Objectively, Dead Silence is a 3.5 to 4-star read but personally, for me I have it as one of my favorites for the year. I loved the characters and I was so intrigued by the mystery and atmosphere of the book. It haunted me for days and I wanted so badly to watch a movie similar to the book. The issues for the book lie in the buildup and structure. We get to the plot really fast and the creepiness immediately sets and I needed that build-up to care for these characters. The book transitions from past to present and I understand why but I actually think it would have made more sense to follow a more linear path to allow for that character development. I know the time transitions were supposed to build up the mystery but the problem is we're supposed to believe in the red herring the author presents us but it doesn't work because I don't actually believe the character is capable of doing what they were accused of. Also, the deaths of characters weren't very emotional for me because of the lack of build-up. The reveal at the end of the mystery was perfect though and hinted at while not being obvious.

I could not get through Night of the Living Rez as hard as I pushed myself. I hadn't realized it was a collection of short stories and I tend to really struggle with enjoying short stories because I am very character driven and tend to dislike being pulled out of the story and being asked to care for some new characters when I am still focused on another. DNF.

So imagine my surprise at how much I liked this one. I gave it a 3.5 star rating out of 5 because there are some stories that aren't as strong but this book packs an emotional punch and I left several of the stories with the thought "what just happened?!?!?" I felt the theme of grief, the crumbling of one's internal self, reflecting on mistakes, and the overwhelming anxiousness of your life falling apart so deeply in many of these stories. I was happy to only have to go through a snippet because you realize that leaving the characters that their story isn't changing. They are stuck in this perpetual cycle of loss and instability and this snipped into their life is all you need. There's one story in here particularly that is a 5-star read. But there are a good few that I would have left out which sadly lowers the rating.

Lessons in Chemistry ⭐⭐⭐⭐4.25. One of the funniest books I have read this year. Unique protagonist and inspirational.

Chasing the Boogeyman ⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4.0 I cannot believe this wasn't a true-crime book. It felt so real and if it weren't for the last chapter with the author's self-insertion that was clearly dramatized I would have bought it completely. Really captures the effect a serial killer can have on a small community.

Wrong Place Wrong Time ⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4.0 Wonderful mystery and thriller but best of all I think this book captures the power of motherhood and having more trust in ourselves.

I'll Be Gone in the Dark ⭐⭐⭐⭐4.5. I am rating this for its genre because this book is certainly not more enjoyable than Lessons in Chemistry to me but for its genre it deserves a high rating. Well executed, doesn't glorify the killer and instead focuses more on the investigative hard work and people impacted by the Golden State Killer. It's a shame Michelle died before she could complete it herself personally or see the outcome of her work.

Roses in the Mouth of a Lion ⭐⭐⭐⭐4.25. Emotionally devastating and while I cannot speak to the accuracy of growing up Muslim in Corona, New York I can speak to how beautiful this book is. Very lyrical and beautiful descriptions. I go to Corona regularly and I could perfectly envision the train station and 7 train. As a child of immigrants myself Bushra perfectly captures the friction of growing up in the USA and exploring new ideologies and facets of identity (sexuality) that aren't discussed in conservative cultures and how it clashes with our parent's upbringing. I encourage people to pick this up and enjoy. Warning for homophobia. I do wish more had been done with the ending. I really feel like this book needed an epilogue. I know likely the answer would have still been awful but I would have accepted it.

#book wrapup #december 2022 books #december 2022 #booklbr #book reviews

0 notes

intherainbowfactory · 1 year

Text

Minty Python's House of Horsefeathers chapter 1 regooded!

[A/N internet's still weird but I'm still out here writing! This time, I have edited the scone shop sketch to be hopefully less tonally whiplashing, but since I had to write it in notepad bc google docs was doing its weird lack-of-internet things, there isn't any formatting, so I'll do that tomorrow. I'll also post it to fimfiction tomorrow, maybe...!]

John Cleese merely stared at his old friend for a long while. His old friend, back from the dead after so many years. Currently, the other horse—colt?—was pointedly avoiding John’s gaze and staring at the ground with a hoof rubbing his chin idly. He alternated between performing that motion and staring at both hooves on his haunches—flank?

Eventually, John just had to end the awkward silence with a proper reserved utterance.

“I’m feeling rather peckish. I suppose we should go somewhere for lunch.”

The two of them cantered on through the unfamiliar streets, looking at every alien pony building and saturated pony person to avoid looking at each other. If they hadn’t met that Twilight lady who explained everything to them, they probably would have run around Ponyville screaming like little foals. Well, at least John would have. The other one would have stayed composed thanks to a little trick he picked up from a master anesthesiologist in hospital.

Speaking of which…

The other stallion of the duo, nominally known as Graham Chapman, decided he had to break the tension somehow. True to form, he did so completely tactlessly.

“I believe that I am so hungry, I could eat a horse!” he proclaimed stiltedly to the air in front of him after a minute’s stroll with no conversation.

John just stopped at that and tilted his muzzle down to stare at his friend.

He asked, “What?”

Graham grinned and then gave a look of mock embarrassment as he contemplatively brought a hoof to his chin. “I suppose you’re right. I was rather beating a dead horse by making that joke, wasn’t I?”

John could only chuckle and scoff, though his eyes didn’t register any amusement. “I really must say, I’ve missed you these past thirty years, but I surely haven’t mourned your sense of humour.”

Real embarrassment and awkwardness crept onto Graham’s expression as he asked, “Too dark for me?”

John could only hoof-point with a good-natured scowl at his good friend. “I should ruddy well think not! Seeing as how you’ve been dead for thirty years by my count, you can be whoever the hell you bloody well want!”

“Well in that case,” Graham lowered John’s hoof with his own and started walking in the direction of the nearest food-place, “I think I’ll be me, for certain values of ‘me’.”

John still just stood there, this time with mock astonishment. “Graham Chapman, having values? This is truly a first! Now, what exactly would those values comprise?”

“They consist solely of you shutting up and coming into this bakery with me for a bite to eat.” Graham held the door to Sugarcube Corner open for John. His face was truly tranquil for the first time since he came here.

“I should rather like this new, improved Graham Chapman…”

They walked into the strangely technicolor construction (and it probably wouldn’t cease being strange for a long time) with John leading the way in his big, scary, English-faced way.

There wasn’t anybody at the counter—anymore, since the pink pony appeared in front of the two newcomers in a flash.

“Omigosh! New ponies in Ponyville! We gotta get the Welcome to Ponyville party started for you two!” The pink pony took both of their hooves at the same time and started vigorously shaking.

“What are your favorite colors? What are your favorite flavors? Do you like sour or sweet better? I just bet you’ll love the scones I baked up for everypony! Oh!” Pinkie bounced up and down rapidly at a rate yet unknown to British dimensional timey-wimey hoppers such as John and Graham found themselves.

“My name’s Pinkie Pie! The premier party mare of Ponyville!”

Graham found a smile gaining on his face every second. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“Ooh! You’ve got funny accents! Are you from Trottingham?” She gasped. ”Are you actors? What are your names, by the way?”

Since John elected to say nothing, Graham continued. “Our names are—”

“Now don’t tell me! Let’s see…” Pinkie gazed into the wonder duo’s souls. “You,” she pointed at John, his demeanor flattening due to exposure to Pinkie Pie, “are Sourpuss, and you,” she pointed at Graham, his demeanor curling up into a smug, warm grin, “are Party Boy! Partier?” She looked up at the ceiling. “No, Party Stallion!” She beamed at the two of them expectantly.

“Erm… actually, our names are John and Graham, and we’re just popping in for a quick… pastry?” John uttered, glancing askance at his partner.

Graham was rubbing his square chin with his unwieldy hoof and really starting to regret the loss of his fingers. He supremely wished he still had them so he could stroke his chin and adopt a more wisened expression of amusement.

“Oh! Of course! You’ve come to the right place! Our bakery is the best in Ponyville, rated a whole six super-duper teevee stars out of five! No other bakery around has as many nummy treats for ponies to eat sweetly!”

Pinkie ducked down in front of them and appeared behind the counter. How unusual! Graham Chapman really wished he had a pipe to make the situation more silly, but for now he could only smile silly-ly to achieve that effect.

Pinkie Pie’s expectant wide grin caught John Cleese rather unawares, but he ventured forth anyway. “Ah, yes, well,” he glanced at Graham for reassurance, who nodded, and turned back to Pinkie, “we actually do happen to be rather peckish for some scones, I think.”

“Peck-ish? What the heck is that s’posed to mean?” Pinkie gasped and crossed her heart with her hoof. “You don’t want me to bake birds into pies, do you? I swear, I’ve stopped doing that ever since that one time it made Fluttershy cry! Pinkie promise!”

“Er… rather, we’re hungry. For scones,” John explained slowly. “Tea, too.”

“Well why didn’t you say so you silly fillyfooler?” Pinkie giggled, “We’ve got the bestest scones in the whole of Equus, no matter what Donut Joe says!”

“Very nice. We’ll take some blueberry scones.”

“I’m afraid,” Pinkie unravelled, “we’re out of that kind. Sorry worry!”

“Oh, um, very well. What kind would you want, Graham?”

“Got any dragon fruit scones?”

Pinkie craned her ears towards Graham. “What was that?”

“You loony git, Graham,” Cleese admonished, “they wouldn’t make dragon fruit scones if they don’t even have the organised motorised transport infrastructure system to ship it here!”

Graham just gave him a look that stated quite clearly his experimental intentions. “Oh, sorry, Pinkie. My Equestrian accent is rather atrocious. Let me try that again.” He cleared his throat.

“Oi, lass,” he intoned blandly, “ave ye gotten any uvva wee summat draggin’ fruities fer I could of et-en a pint uv sconce?”

That got John to chuckle, in his heavily prejudiced-against-Scots way.

Pinkie rolled her eyes to the ceiling and pulled out flags proclaiming Sugarcube Corner’s superiority.

“OH, YEAH!” she roared convincingly, “Dragon fruit scones! Those’re our world-famous specialty! We’ve even got a special going on. Buy two scones, get seven more!”

“You really have some?” John asked seriously now, his eyes wide. “You know, I’ve never tried dragon fruit before, but I think I’d love to right now…”

“Sorry, Sourpuss! We never get it at the end of the weak,” Pinkie roared while lifting a two tonne barbell, “only on Mondays! (Those are our wing days! Leg day’s on Tuesday!)”

She added, confused, “Anyway, they also just seem to run out so quickly somehow…”

“Bugger!” John hemmed and hawed. “Orange scones?”

Pinkie had the good sense to look suitably chastised.

“They’ve been in order from a gang by the West Side for two weeks now,” Pinkie decreed, “but they were lost when Screwball ratcheted them,” she whinged.

“Hmm!” Chapman took up the mantle. “Huckleberry?”

Pinkie took in a sharp intake of breath, busting out an inhaler, and orphan foal she adopted in the last wrench and a bandage to release it.

“Sorry! A wacky magistrate relative of mine outlawed them,” Pinkie related judgementally with a guilty look.

“Strawberry?” John replied incredulously.

“Nope. We lost them in a telephone miscommunication accident involving my kid niece getting a dress at Carousel Boutique,” Pinkie recalled fitfully.

Graham was starting to like this. “Peach?”

Pinkie threw up her arms, much to the astonishment of John, who followed the familiar appendages with his eyes as they splatted against the ceiling and stuck there.

"Fuck..."

“Ooh, sorry, we've got no peach scones in stock. They all got lost when an experimental airplane delivering them crashed,” she explained.

“Grape?” Graham continued.

“All smashed!” she whined.

“Raspberry?”

“Stampededed by a cow—from Denmark! A young prince in line for the throne!” she gave a little moue of disdain.

“Plain?”

“Yes!” Pinkie exclaimed.

“Wait, really?” John pried his eyes away from the ceiling to stare.

“No, not really. Sorry. They got demolished by a convicted former lover of mine with a crowbar who said they were his. I just remembered he lied to me about it.”

“Damnit! Wait, you had a love---”

“Oatmeal raisin?” Graham ventured.

“Blown up on an adventure spaceship,” Pinkie vented.

John and Graham simply looked at each other at that one.

“Surely you must have some traditional English scones in stock!” John exclaimed.

“Yeppers! Trottingham-tested scones! The best in the business!”

“Great! Graham and I will take some,” John demanded it.

Pinkie Pie just balked at that. “... They’re rather flaky.”

“That’s fine, we’ll take them anyway.”

Pinkie went back and forth for a bit. “They’re a bit too flaky for the customers to eat…”

“We happen to like them like that. We’ll take them.”

Pinkie continued her waffling. “In fact, oopsie poopsie, they might be too flaky to sell…”

“Look, I don’t care how excrementally flaky they are, just give them to me!”

“Oh, wait, silly me,” Pinkie giggled and got up from the floor, “I forgot Mr. Cake bought them all up for his family! I can be such a doofus!” she sighed in contentment. “I guess you could say de man ded it!”

“Look, I’m starting to work up a cold sweat at this—” which was true, since he was starting to panic for no readily discernable reason, “—so, so do you or do you not, in fact, have any scones in stock at all, or are you just, just—oh god!”

John Cleese collapsed upright onto the nearest chair, wiping his brow with his hoof.

“John!" Graham blanched. "Are you alright mate?”

“Graham, do you realise, we’re in the bloody Cheese Shop sketch!

Chapman sat down on another chair, in the comfortable proper Ponyvillian way. “I’ve had a feeling. Sorry for not saying so earlier." Graham stifled a giggle. "Intercoursingly good, isn’t it?”

“Easy for you to fucking say since you’ve missed the last fourty years. I’ve only had to go through it ten thousand times, suffering through morons reciting it from memory like our show still stands as a bastion of what is right in comedy as opposed to a big imaginative gutter that we just pissed the night away in half-assing for fun in the seventies! Honestly!" John put his hooves outward, "can you even comprehend such a hell?”

“Well, there was this one time while I was laying on the hospital bed—but I see you are getting tired of those death gags and so I will stop with them,” he hastily assured his friend at the sight of his wild face.

Graham visibly considered his next words to his troubled confidant for a few moments as he shifted his barrel to not chafe on the chair.

Finally, Graham spoke.

“I’ll tell you my full thoughts on the Cheese Shop sketch, and in being true to form, I shall do so as long-windedly as I wish, which is to say, straight.”

Pinkie Pie’s hoof came up with a pipe, which Graham accepted graciously.

Pinkie decided she should probably butt out of whatever was going on, and she walked to the kitchen calmly as Graham watched her leave.

“Anyway. Yes, I have had fans of our show recite it to me quite a few times over the years after that episode aired, but I really don’t mind it. Oh, sure, it could be a bit repetitive at times, but the sketch really means something to them on a subconscious level, which is why it enjoys the lasting power it has.”

“But,” John sputtered, “you’re missing the point! I don’t want this to just be how people remember me, by a bloody stupid sketch I didn’t even like performing!”

John pointed his hoof accusingly at Graham, his energy coming back. “Don’t you remember what that Twilight woman just told us a few moments ago? She said that the most significant objects and events from our lives would cross over to this universe first, yeah?”

John gestured wildly to the entire world at his table in Sugarcube Corner. “But why in the pissing, bloody, hell would the ancient Cheese Shop sketch be considered so damn meaningful by the fabric of reality that it would be the first thing we get? Not my recent lectures at various colleges, not Terry’s Wallace and Gromit thing, not even your autobiography,” John stressed, “get so much as a bleeding hippie’s glance in all this!”

Graham forgot to take a draw from his pipe in his concern. He drew closer to John, his forehead wrinkled and his eyebrows closing together.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

John’s muzzle muscles unclenched. His eyes grew dull. He talked in a low whisper.

“I just don’t get what it all means. Just… why? Is the universe just doing this to spite me? To punish me for not acting as I should have? I mean, if the universe itself is saying that’s the most significant event of our lives…” John was getting that wild look in his eyes again.

“Then it bloody well ought to be!”

John looked up at the blonde stallion’s outburst.

Graham averted his eyes in his embarrassment, and merely took a drag of his pipe. A couple of bubbles came out.

“Sorry. I don't know what came over me," he mumbled sheepishly. "It's just... well, I rather like all of this," he waved to the interior of Sugarcube Corner. "I like this being able to move from my damn hospital bed, this being with you guys again for the first time in years. Don't you?"

John looked shocked and muttered an apology. "I mean," he looked aghast, "It's not that I regret that I'm here and you're here and we're all here together in this peaceful place," he hastily said.

"Quite alright," Graham nodded. "Now... I know you were the one to always push for something better in our writing,” he expanded calmly, “to push for something more original, or more intelligent in our sketches. To try to make it something you could be proud of, as it were.”

Graham contemplated the inexplicable arms still stuck on the ceiling above the counter for a moment.

“But I just had fun writing with you guys. Writing the sketches with my mates, my drunk writer mates. I wrote the Cheese Shop sketch, you know. I had tons of fun just drafting it.

"You remember the fun? Isn't that important enough for us? Just pure fun all around, buying rounds of drinks from those awful hotels when we were all just poor artists. Pure connection. You remember that? Just having a good time writing some jolly old scenes for a show we wouldn’t have ever expected to get funded by the turgid old BBC in centuries?” Graham cracked a smile and caught a fleeting glimpse of a grin on his good friend’s face. He went on.

“You remember? You said you didn’t get the humour, that we should scrap it—right up until Michael read it and he—he…snrk ! !”

That got a good laugh out of John. “Oh, god! He was laughing so hard he fell on the floor and drenched his face in that awful writer’s rum! He should have been here; he would have loved this!” John yelled to the heavens, good fun freely romping around his eyes.

They spent just a minute more reminiscing before Graham got back to topic.

“Heh heh… Well, that’s all I have to say about that, I suppose. Y’know… that we were just bonding over being silly with all of it. Still a pretty good philosophy for a cold, uncaring world, yeah?”

“Not the worst I’ve heard,” John demurred, still smiling.

“Well, good, and, er…”Graham looked pretty awkward, eyes down cast. ”Sorry about getting cross.”

“It’s all right. I forgive you, you old puppy-eyed widowmaker.” John sniffed into his chest as he lay into the native pony position, his muzzle feeling rather pleasantly warm on his brown fur.

He muttered into his floof, "I just would’ve liked to have a more positive influence, to have a legacy that would let others be just as creative as we were, y'know?"

Graham got up from the table feeling better and smiling goofier than he had in years---years!---, as he said with a yawn and a crick of the neck, “C’est la vie. Now let’s get out of here and find a good pub to drown our putrid spinal columns in.”

“Hold it right there!”

Pinkie Pie was in their faces again.

“Now, I didn’t hear anything about what you two were chatting about but I did hear you say the name Twilight! Are you friends with her?”

John went with it. “Well, yeah. It’s rather a long and horrifying story, but we know her.”

“Oh goody goody goody gumdrops with chocolate whipped cream on top!" She beamed. "Now that I know you’re good ponies with insider connections, I can give you this!”

The this! was a full, round, luscious, chocolate chip scone.

“I was saving this for Twilight later today when I was gonna prank her by saying I didn’t have any scones left,” the two stallions looked at each other, “but I thought you should have it to relax, Sourpuss! Oh, and don’t worry about payment! It’s on the house! Not literally, though, because that’s just plain silly.”

“Why, thank you so very much, Pinkie Pie! Oh, and if it’s too not much trouble,” Graham conspiratorially lowered his voice and put up his hoof to his mouth to whisper to her, “could you teach me how you do that teleportation thing sometime?”

“Sure thing! Now, see ya later!” She waved her hoofsie far and wide to welcome them goodbye.

John Cleese and Graham Chapman thanked the pink ponking pony Pinkie Pie before going on their merry way through the sleepless summer streets of peculiar Ponyville.

#my little pony #mlp #mlp fim #crossover #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #monty python #minty python #john cleese #graham chapman #pinkie pie

1 note · View note

slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

Hello! I adore your blog so much! Just a quick question, are you planning on doing part2 of 'Disruptive', Thomas x reader hc? Maybe reader finds out what happend to Ian and Cecilia (those were the names, right?)

Thomas Hewitt X Reader

Part 1 HERE

Disruptive Part 2:

Luda May had tried to shield you from the fate of your friends but you knew what was happening as soon as you heard Hoyt's gun go off. She held you as you cried, both from the feelings of betrayal and from the violence taking place outside.

She had continued to comfort you during the days following their deaths, shushing you and reassuring you. She had tried to get Thomas to see you, to take her role in comforting you, but he had refused each time. He was sure that you wouldn't ever want to look at him again, never mind be comforted by him. So, he took to avoiding you, assuming Luda May would bring you more comfort than anything else could.

Everything had happened so fast but you had managed to wrap your head around the main points and come to terms with them. Ian and Cecilia were dead, the family that you were now living with had killed them.

It was scary at first but the family never seemed to wish you any harm, Luda May always assured you of that. Even Hoyt refrained from threatening you or scaring you, apparently he hadn't been fond of your friends but had no real problem with you since you had been the polite one. Still, neither he or Monty went out of their way to make you feel particularly welcome.

In the end, you couldn't say you mourned your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend all that much, considering the betrayal they had committed. More than anything, you had been afraid about what your time in the house would mean for you. But...it had never meant you any harm, and you believed they would continue to welcome you in their home.

Luda May had apologised for your loss, apologised for what the family did but assured you that you were safe here. She had also asked you not to blame Tommy.

Some time passed and the family trusted you to move freely around the residence. You were still polite and undeservingly kind to the family, helping with chores and assimilating with the family relatively easily. You were a welcomed addition in everyone's eyes.

Still, Thomas was avoiding you and you had become highly aware of it. Now that everything had calmed down, you could notice the lack of the large man in every room you walked into. At first you thought it was a coincidence, now you were certain he was avoiding you on purpose.

Despite wishing that Thomas wouldn't keep avoiding you, you hadn't had much chance to confront him about it. At least, until today.

The house was pretty quiet and you were in the kitchen, having just finished some chores when you glanced out of the window. From your position at the window, you could see Thomas outside by the collection of cars. Hoyt must have asked him to strip down the newest car, the car you had arrived in.

You smiled to yourself, determined to take the chance to speak with him. Grabbing a chilled glass from the tray, you hurried outside and skipped down the steps.

It reminded you of a graveyard, cars in various states of distress lined up in the field. Some stripped down to their frames, others barely touched but parts rusting away.

"Thomas" you spoke as you approached him, getting his attention since his back was to you. You bit back a small laugh when he jumped and turned to face you, clearly surprised by your presence.

"It's hot, I thought you would like a drink" you offered as you held out the glass of freshly made iced lemonade.

He looked a little suspicious of your offer at first but his face soon softened before he took the glass from you.

He tensed some more when he realised what he had been doing as you approached. He glanced back at the before, looking nervously at you before hanging his head.

Even though he didn't say anything, it was like you could read his mind. He was worried that you would be upset about him stripping your car for parts.

"Don't worry. It was Ian's car, you can do whatever you want with it" you assured him with a small shrug, lazily kicking the flat tyre as if to further your point.

Thomas nodded, relaxing slightly, before drinking from the glass that you had so generously provided him.

You rocked back and forth on your feet for a moment as it fell silence, feeling a little awkward and sensing the tension in the air.

"Have you been avoiding me?" you finally asked, deciding there was no point dancing around the subject.

Thomas just shifted his weight, unsure of how to answer. He could be honest and say 'yes', but he knew that would sound rude, and surely you wanted him to avoid you. Or he could lie and say 'no', but he didn't want to lie to you and he knew you already knew the truth.

"It's alright if you have, I get it" you reassured him, not wanting him to feel guilty for it. "Just stop, okay?...I'm not mad at you and...and I miss you" you confessed, noticing how his eyes widened slightly at your words.

How could you miss him? You had only known him for a day before he started avoiding you. He supposed the only real company you had now was Luda May, so maybe...that was why you 'missed' him. He couldn't wrap his head around you having forgiven him and wanting to have him around.

"I have to get back before Luda May finds me gone but stop avoiding me, okay?" you spoke again when he didn't really respond.

This time, Thomas nodded, making you smile before running back towards the house. Thomas smiled to himself as he watched you run back into the house, hoping that you really had meant it and he wouldn't have to avoid you any more.

Thomas was true to his word and stopped avoiding you. Conversations should have been a little awkward but you found any silences comfortable and you kept the conversation flowing. He didn't talk, you had learnt that for sure now, but he listened intently and always responded in what ways he could.

Now, you spent more time with him that any other Hewitt. Now, he did the opposite of avoiding you. He was always around, seeking you out just for your friendly company.

You were thankful for those developments but a new concern was worming its way into your mind. Even when he wasn't around, you were thinking about him, you couldn't wait until you saw him again. Whenever he was around, you would smile, practically giddy to be around him again.

Could you be developing feelings for Thomas?

From the first day you met him, defending him behind the gas station, you had thought he was sweet. You had also found him attractive, tall with broad shoulders and strong arms. God, you wondered what those arms would feel like wrapped around you.

You could never make out all of his facial features because of his mask but you could see his eyes. Oh, how you adored his eyes. They were expressive and beautiful. You wanted to tell him that whenever you could see him doubting himself.

You wondered if he would ever take his mask off around you, if he would ever let you see his face. You had heard from Luda May that he had some sort of skin condition and that was what he was hiding, but you didn't care. You just wanted to see him...maybe he would even let you k-

"I'm so glad you and Thomas are talking again" Luda May's voice brought you out of your thoughts, reminding you of where you were. You were in the kitchen, helping cook supper, but had completely zoned out with thoughts of Thomas.

"He's a good boy and he likes you, he's just a little shy" she smiled to herself. She obviously loved Thomas and it did make you smile, it was sweet.

You sighed and you collected yourself, practically deflating as you pushed away the thoughts about Thomas. Yes, you could be honest with yourself, you had developed a crush on Thomas but it surely didn't matter. You doubted he returned your feelings, even despite how highly Luda May claimed he thought of you.

"It's alright, he was just worried about everything that happened..." you cleared your throat, hoping she hadn't seen the change in expression on your face. You didn't feel like being questioned about it right now. "Do you want me to come to the gas station with you tomorrow?" you asked, changing the subject. You didn't like the idea of her walking down there on her own.

"No, that's alright, dear. Hoyt is going to drive me up" Luda May assured you and you nodded. "I'll ask Tommy to help you out with some chores tomorrow, I'm sure he won't mind helping" she offered.

"Oh, I'm sure I can handle it" you shook your head, able to handle some clean up on your own.

"Trust me, dear, Tommy will be happy to help" she insisted, giving you a knowing look.

You were sure she knew something you didn't, but you couldn't question her about it because Thomas had walked into the room, making you both look back at him.

"Hey Tommy, we're almost done with supper" you told him with a smile.

"Would you help Y/n clean up after breakfast tomorrow?" Luda May asked and Thomas nodded without hesitation.

"Thank you, Tommy" you smiled at him. You tried to hide it but Luda caught the light blush on your cheeks as you turned back to the task at hand.

The next morning, Thomas kept his promise. Hoyt was taking Luda May to the gas station, Monty was passed out in front of the television, and Thomas had come to help you clean up in the kitchen. Well, he was supposed to be helping but he was basically doing it all, not letting you help when you tried.

He had been working in a comfortable silence for a while, as your mind ran while. You watched him work, watching the muscles of his back moving under his shirt, smiling at him whenever he glanced over his shoulder at you.

Sometimes you thought he might return some of your feelings but then your newfound insecurities would show their ugly faces. You used to be so confident in yourself, able to take rejection with understanding, it wouldn't shake you. But now you doubted yourself, now you couldn't stand the idea of Thomas not thinking you were enough.

You sat on the kitchen table, where Thomas had placed you and silently ordered you to stay making you laugh, and anxiously picked at the wood with your nails.

"Thomas?" you finally spoke, making him look at you. "Do I talk too much?" you asked. Ian had believed you were too much, too chatty at times, too eager, just too much and yet not enough all at the same time.

Thomas instantly shook his head. He honestly liked how much you talked, that you even wanted to talk to him in the first place. Your face would light up as you rambled about something that had happened that day, and it made his chest feel warm. He couldn't help it but smile whenever you talked so happily, even about the most mundane things.

You almost smiled but not quite. He seemed to be being honest, you didn't talk too much. He didn't think like Ian had...but that didn't help much.

"...do you think I'm attractive?" you asked quietly after a short moment of silence. You never thought you were the most attractive person in the world but you had been comfortable in your own skin, at least until you found out your boyfriend had been fucking your best friend for months. There had to be a reason for Ian to betray you like that, you must have done something wrong.

Thomas paused at your question, his eyes widening.

Surely this was a trick question, how was he supposed to answer that? Of course he did! Of course he thought you were attractive, but would you think it was weird if he said that?

Thomas had thought you were attractive from the first moment he saw you. He thought you were the kindest and bravest person he had met since you took that punch for him, and still smiled up at him like he was worth it. Ever since your first encounter with each other, he was smitten with you. And those feelings had only grown as he spent more time with you. He absolutely adored you. God, he wished he could tell you all of that...

You took his silence as a negative response. He didn't answer because he didn't want to hurt you...

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that..." you hung your head, looking down at your lap. You shouldn't have put him in that position, you shouldn't have asked.

Thomas panicked a little, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad. He just hadn't wanted to make you uncomfortable. He took a breath, trying to build up his confidence, before walking over to you.

You looked down at where your hand lay on the table when you felt Thomas' much larger one rest over yours. You teared your gaze away and looked up at him. He just nodded once you were finally looking at him again.

"Thanks, Tommy" you smiled. "I think you're attractive too" you confessed.

He pulled his hand away then, looking down at his feet. You were just being kind, saying what you were meant to say, or just straight up making fun of him.

"Hey" you frowned, quickly catching his hands in both of yours. "I mean it" you promised him as he met your gaze again, still looking unsure. "You doubt yourself too much, think too lowly of yourself" he tensed when you released on of his hands, bringing your hand up to his mask. "I don't know exactly why you wear this but I promise, whenever you feel like you can take it off around me, I will still think you're attractive" you promised, tugging on his hand to pull him closer.

Thomas let you pull him closer, swallowing the lump in his throat as he came to stand between your legs, hand still in yours. He had to do something, he had to savour the moment. Could you really be being honest with him?

He lifted his free hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making you smile softly up at him. He still didn't talk but you knew what he was saying. You too. You shouldn't doubt yourself, you were everything he could ever want, and he did want you.

Since you didn't pull away, Thomas' confidence began to grow. The hand he had hovering around your face gently cupped your cheek and he swore his heart skipped a beat when you nuzzled your face into his large palm.

Thomas wasn't Ian. Thomas clearly cared deeply about you, he wouldn't betray you, he wouldn't hurt you like Ian had.

You placed your hand over the only he held against your cheek, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. Thomas just looked at you in complete awe.

It made him think back to the man you had arrived with, your boyfriend, Ian. How could Ian ever betray you like he did. Thomas had met your friend, Cecilia, and sure she was pretty but nothing when compared to you. And she wasn't even half as kind. Thomas would never hurt you like that, he couldn't even fathom it.

Here you were, tenderly kissing his palm and looking at him...lovingly, if he didn't know any better.

The sound of the front door slamming closed made you both jump, Thomas' hand falling from your face and landing instinctively on you thigh as you both turned towards the door of the kitchen.

"What the fu-" Hoyt began but cut himself off with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Y'know what, I don't wanna know. Just not in the fucking kitchen" he snarled before grabbing a beer from the fridge and leaving the room.

Both you and Thomas blushed at the implications of what Hoyt had thought you'd been doing, Thomas stepping away from you with an almost apologetic look.

"It's alright, Tommy" you smiled as you hopped down from the table. "Let finish up cleaning, okay?" you asked and he just nodded, assuming you were about to just ignore whatever the moment was that you both shared.

You smiled up at him again, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers through his, before guiding him back across the kitchen.

#thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

454 notes · View notes

spilledkauffie · 3 years

Text

Newsflash

Pairing: Loki x FemaleTVAWorker!Reader Word Count: 1.5k T/W: just something cute A/N: finding Loki & helping him with the TVA transition

P.s. this is just for fun, I’m not trying to be technically accurate in how said abilities come about. This is just something I’m trying, we’ll see how it goes!

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5

The TVA was abuzz with agents running hither, thither, and yon to try and find the most recent Variant they had brought in. You’d already heard who it was and that he was giving everyone quite a time with his cooperation, or lack thereof. Walking down the dimly bright hallway, you sidestepped to avoid a team of hunters on their way to a new location. You smiled recognizing a familiar face jogging up to you.

“Have you seen him?” Mobius asked, only mildly frustrated; he never raised his voice, especially at you.

You smirked and shrugged, keeping your hands in your pockets, “I haven’t, but newsflash, I could’ve told you this was going to happen.”

“Yeah, well,” he said through gritted teeth, “it happened,” he added, stepping around you to meet up with a squad.

Despite being assigned as only an agent, you had a special gift of being able to sense what was going to happen. Of course, the TVA loved it when they felt they could use it, but they also hated it, especially when you suggested something dangerous or out of the question to the authorities, reminding you that: ‘you aren’t a Timekeeper and cannot actually see the future.’ Which was true, you had to admit it as far as you knew your predictions and information was all off feeling, but there was something to be said for your feelings never being never wrong.

Coming to the room the Variant was last seen in, you looked left and right, entering cautiously. Sure enough, you had found exactly what you expected to find, Loki, alone with the Tesseract. On the sound of you closing the door, he startled, looking up and immediately defensive. You stayed where you were, not wanting to give the impression that you were there to intimidate. Loki eyed you up and down, he had to admit you were the most beautiful being he’d seen in a long time.

“Looks like you found what you were looking for,” you nodded towards the cube at his feet.

“This- this useless,” he picked up the Tesseract and gestured it around, nonchalantly.

“Well,” you shrugged, “that depends who you ask, why you want it, and where you are, Loki. Oh, and when you are.”

He shook his head, setting the cube down again, “but here- here infinity stones are used as paperweights,” he tilted his head at you, “honestly, who are you people?”

“We’re the TVA, we-” you began, but stopped when he scoffed and combed his hands through his hair looking away. You bit the inside of your lip, wishing you could tell all, but no doubt you’d be fired for that. Approaching him, he glared at you, he was on the defense and you couldn’t blame him after what Mobius and the TVA had done in such a short time from apprehending him.

“Have you been to see a doctor?” You asked, observing some bruises and cuts across his face, not from the TVA of course, that was the Avengers’ doing, but it was worth asking.

“What? No, I am fine,” he rolled his eyes, “I don’t need one, if I could use my powers, I could fix it anyway.”

“Fix it? I thought you were fine?” you tilted your head, still standing in front of him.

He sighed, clearly exhausted, putting his head in his hands. Fingers gripping his raven hair. Approaching calmly, you sat beside him, with the Tesseract situated between the two of you. You looked at its mesmerizing blue glow, it was beautiful as they all were.

Suddenly Loki lifted his head, soft smile as he looked at you, “Madam,” he began, and you raised your eyebrows, “you seem an intellectual individual, far smarter than any of your coworkers, you are far more beautiful than any,” he took a pause, “I believe there’s been a mistake, and perhaps,” he moved closer to you, making you look down, before back up, well aware of what was happening, “perhaps you could help them to see their mistake.”

Quirking your lips, unable to deny he was very charming, you tried not to smile. Instead you put on a wince, “I’m sorry, I thought they told you,” you said very gently, making him furrow his brows, you lifted your shoulders, whispering, “magic doesn’t work here.”

“Oh for-” Loki said exasperated, “that wasn’t magic!”

“No,” you laughed, eyes crinkling with your accompanying smile, “but that was laying it on pretty thick.”

He exhaled deeply, “it wasn’t all a lie,” he admitted, perking a brow, glancing at the floor.

You stared at his neck for a moment, not in any particular manner, but another smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

“What?” Loki almost flinched as he asked upon noticing your gaze, still figuring out what the TVA’s intentions were for him kept him on edge.

“I just noticed you got the collar off,” you looked up to his eyes, gesturing to your own neck with a finger, “most people don’t even try, but it's quite easy, as you’ve found out.”

Loki straightened up, dignity returning, “well… I’m not some animal, I’m a-“

“A god, right,” you nodded, finishing his sentence. Swiftly Loki turned his head to completely face you, confusion was stricken across his expression, but then you smiled again, this time at him, were you mocking him? No, you sounded like you believed him. Why were you smiling? Your presence wasn’t like the rest of the TVA—

You leaned in closer to him, telling him in a whisper, “I never liked the collar either.”

“You- wh-,” he stuttered as you kept eye contact, clearly stuttering was not in his nature, he didn’t like being confused and scared, he didn’t like not having the upper hand, “what you weren’t ‘born behind a desk,’ bred to loyally serve the Timekeepers?”

You quietly laughed at the seriousness in which he used air quotes, shaking your head, “goodness you sound like Miss Minutes.” You met his gaze, “no,” you left it there for a while, he relaxed, dropping his hands. He was actually relieved to hear that you weren’t, and he wanted to hear more.

“Go on,” he said in almost a question, with ‘please’ attached.

Sighing, you complied to explain, “once upon a time, I got a little too interested in a Time Stone we had come in.”

“But magic doesn’t work here-“

“No, it doesn’t,” you looked over, meeting his eyes again, you enjoyed looking at them, “I took it from the TVA after they brought me in, I thought it could be my way out, but it backfired,” you quirked your lips, looking down at the ground, “too much pressure on it and. . .it shattered,” you paused blinking, “I was exposed to an energy I can’t explain and it gave me something I can’t explain, but,” you sighed, straightening up, “the TVA found me, reset the timeline, and took me back in for examination.”

“And what- now they hired you?” Loki asked, his tone wasn’t exactly soft, more shocked at their recruiting choices.

You returned to the present, coming out of your own flashback, “now,” you smiled widely, “I’m of more use to Mobius than he’ll ever admit.”

There was silence, and you let it remain, assuming Loki had a lot to process.

“Why are you telling me this?” he squinted.

“Because you have power and potential that could change history, if only you-”

With a sudden motion the door flung open, and Mobius, wary at first, made his way in. Upon seeing you, he let down his defenses.

“You found him I see,” he put his hands on his hips, a stance that almost made you laugh, at least internally, “didn’t feel the need to tell me?”

“I knew you’d get there eventually,” you nodded.

“Unbelievable, Newsflash, actually it is believable and that’s the problem-” Mobius muttered to himself as he left to inform others that Loki had been found and detained again.

“Newsflash?” Loki questioned, looking over at you, you just shrugged, “you sound like quite the handful yourself,” Loki actually smiled at you; you returned the smile, nodding to yourself.

“Look, Loki,” you started, pressing your palms together, “Mobius has a lot of faith in you, and I know you don’t believe in trust, but we’re about to trust you very much,” you saw he opened his mouth, you waited, eyebrows raised as if asking ‘yes?’ but he silently answered by shaking his head, allowing you to continue, “I know you’ve seen and been through a lot today, I won’t lie, I was confused when I came here too, but this really is bigger than anything you could imagine. We need you,” you furrowed your brows, speaking from your heart, “more than you know.”

“Well, it’s nice to be needed,” He bobbed his head with a smile spreading further on his lips. “I believe you,” he said, soft eyes suddenly looking at you, “I just can’t- believe all. . .this,” he lifted a finger and made a circle, looking around, ”not yet anyway.”

You smiled, throwing him a wink, “give it time.”

839 notes · View notes

littlesniggy · 3 years

Note

Hey could i request an Ace x female!reader scenario where she is Whitebeard’s biological daughter and the “little sister” of the crew. And she gets pregnant by Ace but nobody knows about it because they kept their relationship secret. So while the crew are eating lunch, the reader suddenly stands up and announces her pregnancy without giving Ace a warning (he already knew about it but didnt expect her s/o to say it outloud) So he just sits there all nervous while the crew is interrogating the reader about who is the father so they can kill him . Also i imagine whitebeard just choking on his beer for the shocking news lol.Srry if its too especific, change wtv u want about it.

Hello! Thank you for requesting! I hope I wrote everything to your liking. I probably went a little too much into Whitebeard's reaction but oh well...Please enjoy!

Pairing: Ace x female! reader

Crew's and Whitebeard's reaction to reader announcing her pregnancy

Word count: 1.2k

“I’m pregnant, Ace.” He thought those words had caught him completely off guard. Your slightly trembling voice, your insecure tone, your harried eyes, darting from him to the wall behind him and back to him again; and he couldn’t say a word. Thinking about it now, he felt bad about his reaction but he was simply stunned. The first thing that had come to his mind was: How?

Of course, Ace knew how babies were made but didn’t you to use contraception? Sure, there was always a risk when having sex but Ace would’ve never thought he’d come into such a precarious situation.

The lack of speech had you think it was a bad idea; you should’ve never told him in the first place and just gotten rid of it. But you didn’t want to. You’ve already made up your mind that you would get the baby, if Ace wanted to or not. You wouldn’t even push him to be part of its life if he didn’t want to.

Ace noticed you becoming more insecure by the second and snapped back from his thoughts. “Hey, hey. Why that face?” he asked, trying to smile encouraging even though he felt insecure himself. “That’s great. It just came so…suddenly, y’know?” he said honestly, putting a hand on your cheek, stroking it your skin lightly.

“I know. I’m sorry to just tell you like this. But better now than never. I was shocked myself.” You admitted, leaning into his touch. A huge burden was being lifted from your shoulders and you were glad that Ace accepted it like this. Now came the difficult part though – how should you tell your father, Whitebeard?

Ace nearly choked when you announced your pregnancy to the crew out of nowhere. He stared at you wide eyed, face an unhealthy red. Did you catch him off guard back then? Absolutely. Did he think you could manage that again? Absolutely not. Was this announcement to your friends and family even worse? Holy shit, yes! Why didn’t you give him a heads up, an early warning? Anything, really!

All eyes were on you, a small smile on your lips. Marco was the first one to clear his throat. “W-what did you say?” he tried to get affirmation that he just misheard but you didn’t do him this favor. “I said, I’m pregnant.” You repeated yourself as if nothing was wrong with this statement.

Ace looked over the faces of his friends, some were shocked, some were angry, and some just had a blank expression. He didn’t want to look over to Whitebeard but he just had to take a quick look.

The old man was sitting at the head-side of the table, with a huge bottle of booze in his hand and completely frozen in place. Ace wasn’t sure if he even was still alive. Maybe the old man had a heart attack? Not too uncommon for people his age.

And suddenly, there was a lot of commotion on the table. Everyone was talking over each other, asking you questions over questions without waiting for an answer.

“Who did this to you?” “Did you get hurt?” “Tell us the name of this bastard!” “We will hunt him down, cut his dick off and present it to the sea monsters as some kind of offering!”

Every pair of eyes looked at the person who just said the last suggestion in confusion. “What?” Marco asked, bewildered from this comment. “I-I was just thinking…never mind.” The man said and sat back down, drinking his beer in silence. The pairs of eyes were shortly after back on you, everyone expecting an answer.

“Whoever this bastard is should run far, far away.” The deep voice of your father sounded from the far end. Apparently, no heart attack. Ace thought to himself. You looked at Whitebeard with a small smile on your lips, shaking your head.

“And why should he?” you wanted to know, intending on making Ace sweat a little more for the time being. It was kind of your revenge for him being silent for so long when you told him. It was petty, you knew but in your eyes you got a free pass. After all, you were going to go through a lot of pain in the end.

“Because once I get him into my hands I will personally crush this man with all I’ve got. So I hope he’s already on the run.” Whitebeard was mad. Not, because you were pregnant but because someone dared to touch his beloved daughter. Ace swallowed hard and looked over to you with a slightly pleading look on his face.

“So, you would crush your second division commander? That would be a shame. You’d loose one of your best men.” Silence. Aces’ eyes were wide open and his face said it all. How can she say this so nonchalantly?! Is she out of her mind?! Every single pair of eyes were now on him, disbelief written all over them. You could hear a pin drop; nobody dared to speak up.

“So, you’re the one who touched my precious daughter, Ace?” Whitebeard slowly got up from his seat, his heavy footsteps rumbling through the boat. “W-well….I-I can explain, pops.” Ace also got up from his place, slowly backing away with a shaky smile on his face, hands held up in defense.

“Really? Let me hear your excuse, then.” Whitebeard was standing in front of him, and it was the first time Ace felt intimidated by his captain. But before he could say anything you came between them, taking Aces’ hand and holding it tightly.

“We’ve been dating for quite some time now. We just thought it’d be better if nobody knew.” You said, looking up at your father.

Whispering could be heard from the rest of the crew at this revelation. Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. “For quite some time, huh? Why didn’t you tell me, Y/n? I’m your father.” Did he sound hurt? Or were you just mistaking? Either way, you felt guilty. “We just thought it’d be best for the crew if nobody knew. We didn’t want to cause disturbances on the ship.”

Whitebeard stayed silent for a moment, then looked behind you to Ace who immediately tensed up. “If you do anything and hurt my daughter or my grandchild in any way I will make my words from earlier come true. I can always get a new second division commander.” There was a small smile on his lips as he turned back to return to his seat.

You turned around to Ace and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “Why are you so tense? Everything went great!” you said innocently, pulling him back to the table where the rest of the crew was waiting to ask you two more questions. Before you two sat down, this time next to each other, Ace whispered into your ear. “Someone’s getting punished later on, Y/n. You almost gave the old man a heart attack, y’know?” he chuckled but was silenced by you almost immediately. “Just cause you’ll become a father doesn’t mean you have to call yourself ‘old man’.” Knowing full well he meant Whitebeard.

856 notes · View notes

ahtsumu · 3 years

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

1K notes · View notes

besanii · 3 years

Note

Oka so lxc has feelings. Amazing. How and when did he realise them?? Does wwx know?? How does he feel?? Are they gonna tell wangji?? Ahhhhhh i am dying thank you so much

[ part one (LWJ) | two (LXC) | three (WWX) | four (LWJ) | five (NQY) ]

Lan Xichen doesn’t touch him. Not the first night, nor any other night he has called upon Wei Wuxian in the month after he enters the inner palace.

Even though Wei Wuxian cannot help but be somewhat relieved—truth be told, he had been dreading that particular aspect of his duties as a consort—he knows it will have to happen eventually. Even if Lan Xichen himself insists there is no need, people are already talking, speculating on the true nature of their relationship, questioning whether there are ulterior motives behind his new status as an Imperial consort.

You must serve the Emperor well, Jiang Cheng’s most recent letter had read. Do not give them any opportunity to pull you down.

With Jiang Fengmian severely ill and unlikely to recover, the management of Yunmeng’s affairs have fallen onto Jiang Cheng’s shoulders under the guidance of his mother. And while Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan’s reputations maybe enough to keep Yunmeng’s adversaries at bay for now, if—when Jiang Fengmian passes, Yu Ziyuan alone would not be enough to fend off the vultures already circling around them, eager to be first in line to tear out a piece of the fresh meat.

Wei Wuxian crumples the letter in his hands.

He should be there with Jiang Cheng, supporting him, watching his back. Helping him forge his standing amongst the older generation of nobility. Doing what he can—what he must—to defend against those who wish to harm the ruling family of Yunmeng, as a loyal vassal should.

Instead he is here in the capital, trapped in the gilded cage of the Imperial harem, his wings well and truly clipped.

Consorts are forbidden from interfering with politics on pain of death.

It is the first cardinal rule of being an Imperial consort, and the one used to placate Qishan in the aftermath of his confrontation with Wen Chao. It is frustrating, to say the least—all his years of studying and training to one day become a pillar of support for both Yunmeng and Jiang Cheng gone to waste—but he contents himself with the fact that he is alive. And as long as he is alive, he will find a way to live.

“Wuxian.”

There is something deeply intimate in the way his name falls from Lan Xichen’s lips, something soft and gentle that stirs warmth in the recesses of Wei Wuxian’s chest, in the hollow left behind by Lan Wangji. It is immediately chased away by the guilt that curls in pit of his stomach at the thought, so he does not allow himself to dwell on it for too long. He schools his expression and turns to pay his respects.

“Your concubine greets Huangshang.”

Lan Xichen is helping him upright with hands under his forearms before the words have fully left his lips; when he raises his head, he is greeted by the sight of Lan Xichen’s smiling face. He feels his own lips tug upwards in response.

“Huangshang looks to be in a jovial mood today,” he observes. “Will you share the good news with your concubine so that your concubine may also have something to celebrate?”

“Good news indeed,” Lan Xichen agrees. “Come, sit with me.”

He lets Lan Xichen lead him over to the table in the centre of the sitting room with a hand on his lower back and takes a seat, waiting patiently for Lan Xichen to settle himself in the seat beside his. The servants back out of the room at a wave of his hand, leaving the two of them alone. Lan Xichen takes his hand in both his, brushing his thumb tenderly over his knuckles with a tenderness that has Wei Wuxian’s heart tightening in his chest.

“Wuxian,” he says gently. “I know it has been difficult for you to be confined here in the Inner Palace for the last three months.”

“Huangshang...” Wei Wuxian feigns a smile. “Huangshang does not need to apologise. Your concubine understands the necessity.”

“I knew you would,” Lan Xichen says with a sigh. He squeezes Wei Wuxian’s hands. “Envoys from the Northern border tribes arrived today with their yearly tributes. Including fifty of their finest war horses.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “A generous tribute indeed,” he agrees. “I have heard the horses bred on the Northern plains are taller, stronger and faster than the ones we have here in Gusu. I’ve always wanted to see one for myself—”

“Is that so,” Lan Xichen says, patting the back of Wei Wuxian’s hand, expression deceptively thoughtful. The almost...playful tone catches Wei Wuxian’s attention at once.

“Huangshang,” he says slowly, suspiciously. “Would you perhaps be hiding something from your concubine?”

His suspicions grow with the twinkle in Lan Xichen’s eyes.

“Come with me and find out.”

He’d forgotten the feeling of the wind in his hair, the thrum of hooves pounding in the dirt beneath his feet, the warmth of the sun on his face as he throws his head back with an exhilarated laugh. The black stallion he’s riding tosses its head with a grunt, panting with exertion. Wei Wuxian pats its mane and tugs them both around to wait for Lan Xichen to join them.

“Wuxian,” Lan Xichen calls as soon as he is within earshot. “I see your horsemanship skills have not waned in the slightest. I willingly concede to your superior skills.”

“Huangshang is just out of practice,” he laughs, nudging his horse against Lan Xichen’s own. “And I cannot take all the credit. This is such a fine horse—I felt as though I were flying!”

He laughs again, loud and joyous, feeling as light as air. The hills beyond the outskirts of the city are reserved for Imperial use, so they are blessedly alone. Even the attendants have been ordered to remain in the palace, leaving only a small retinue of Imperial guards trailing behind them in the distance, enough to be within view, but completely out of hearing range. It is easy to forget the shackles of the palace, to pretend as though he is once again Wei Wuxian, the ward of the Marquis of Yunmeng, and not Wei Wuxian, the consort.

“I am glad you like it,” Lan Xichen tells him. “It is yours.”

Wei Wuxian whirls around, jaw dropping.

“Huangshang!” he gasps. “You cannot be serious—” He catches himself and his lack of composure, and clears his throat. “Huangshang, as the people say, one should not accept a reward without due. Your concubine has done nothing to deserve such a generous gift. I dare not accept it.”

Lan Xichen laughs and waves away his protests.

“After witnessing the way the two of you flew across the hills as though you would be one with the wind, there can be no other person more suited to taming this creature.” He reaches over to brush a stray wisp of hair back from Wei Wuxian’s face; his fingers linger over the arch of his cheek. “From now on, should you desire to ride again, I will accompany you.”

His touch is feather-light, fingers barely grazing, but Wei Wuxian feels it spark and tingle, vibrating beneath his skin like a plucked string, rippling through his entire body, freezing him in place. His heartbeat quickens and his face warms.

He is the Emperor.

He is only doing this out of pity, he reminds himself firmly.

He is your husband. Is it not improper.

It is, the other part of him insists. It is improper. It has only been three months—

He is kind. And he is honourable. Would it be so bad?

The sound of thundering hooves breaks the fragile silence between them. Lan Xichen sighs and withdraws his hand, curling it into a fist briefly before bringing it back to his side; if Wei Wuxian had not known better, he would have thought he looked annoyed by the interruption. But then the moment passes and the Emperor is back, expression level as the soldier pulls up alongside them and swings off his horse onto his knees.

“Huangshang, urgent report from the front.”

“What is it?” Lan Xichen asks calmly.

“It’s Hanguang-wang.” Wei Wuxian stiffens and turns, startled, to meet Lan Xichen’s equally wide eyes. “He’s alive!”

buy me a ko-fi!

more paper-thin fic | verse

#mdzs #my writing #wangxian #xixian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #paper thin fic #薄命 #王爺機 x 妃子羡 #皇帝曦 x 妃子羡 #consort!wwx #emperor!lxc #prince!lwj #lan wangji x wei wuxian #lan xichen x wei wuxian #lwj is only mentioned but still #imperial au #harem au

313 notes · View notes

soleilsuhh · 3 years

Text

— soon the cold night falls.

plot. when you went to doyoung’s place to study, you didn’t expect to end up staying the night and sleeping on the same bed.

pairing. doyoung x gender neutral! reader.

genre. college!au. fluff. suggestive. pining. good ol’ sharing-a-bed trope.

word count. 1.8k words.

you had been falling behind in maths, which was why you asked doyoung to help you study. although you didn’t have the same major, you knew he was more than proficient in the subject. he had eventually agreed to help but not without calling you an idiot first. this was how you found yourself in his rented studio apartment where he lived off-campus, about fifteen minutes from the university.

suddenly, you felt a hard but painless tap on your hand.

"are you listening?" he demanded, the look on his face is evident that he already knew the answer. he sighed, "pay attention, y/n, this topic is important."

"it seems like even you can't make maths interesting,"

he shot you a look at which you responded immediately by raising your palms up slightly in surrender, topped by a cheeky grin. you tried your best to focus as he continued with the explanation but by the time he reached to the next page, your thoughts began to drift away from the formulas and to the fact that the two of you were alone.

it wasn't as if this was the first time you had been alone with him in a room; you weren't sure why you were feeling jittery and why your foot was bouncing of its own accord under the table.

"—will you stop zoning out!"

his raised voice and the sound of frustrated slam of pen on the table startled you, effectively pulling you away from your thoughts.

surprisingly, the rest of the tutoring session went by smoothly. but it seemed like at some point while studying for what felt like forever, you fell asleep. when you woke up, you were pleasantly surprised to feel a jacket wrapped securely around you, and that its owner was also asleep in front of you, using his own arm as a pillow. his face was serene, the soft breathing making the world outside seem to stand still.

you grabbed your phone, trying to ignore the odd feeling in your heart. looking at the screen, you jumped, nearly causing the jacket to fall off your shoulders. it was already midnight, and you were still at his apartment. you reached over to shake doyoung awake, and as he rubbed his eyes, you showed him the lit-up screen.

he momentarily froze in his movements. "huh." he looked at you, "sorry, i didn't mean to fall asleep; i was planning to wake you up before your dorm curfew," he paused and after a moment, he said: “do you want to stay here tonight?”

your heart involuntarily beat faster at that and you brushed it off. it was probably a good idea; you were already an hour past the curfew. you said ‘okay,’ before calling your roommate to inform them. they sounded sleepy but nonetheless, relieved to hear from you. as you talked on the phone, doyoung walked over to his dresser and your gaze lingered after him.

“catch,” he said, throwing a simple tee and sweatpants at your direction just as you hung up.

you caught them clumsily.

“thought they might be more comfortable than your jeans, but you don’t have to change if you don’t want to,”

you smiled at him, “thank you,” you brought the clothes closer to get the whiff of fresh scent, “they smell really nice,”

he scoffed but not unkindly.

as you shuffled towards the bathroom to change, he began to put away the books on the table. when you came out, the table was cleared, everything neatly stacked and an extra bedding was spread out on the floor along with a pillow.

"you take the bed," he said, gesturing towards it.

you blinked at him for a moment then delcared, "hell no, this is your place anyway; i can sleep on the floor,"

"exactly, this is my place, so i make the rules," he said, "take the bed,"

you refused to move, not giving in but also uncertain about what to say. this was such a conflicting situation you were in; why did you care that much if he slept on the floor? why were your eyes so fixated on the fact that there was no extra blanket for him? what was this clenching feeling in your stomach?

"the bed is big enough for two people..." you awkwardly suggested. "i mean it's not like we've never shared a bed before,"

it's true; you had taken so many naps together - that was back in primary and middle school, yes, and things might not be the same anymore.

you could have sworn that you saw doyoung's movements stop after hearing your suggestion but he continued whatever he was doing on his phone. his lack of response was a clear enough answer for you.

"um, fine then," you said with a hint of despondency.

"i guess we can keep a pillow between us," his voice came. "i don't have an extra blanket too, anyway and it gets cold at night," he paused a brief second and lifted his head to look at you, "are you sure you're okay with sharing a bed?"

you nodded, a little too eagerly, a little too fast, "yeah, i'm okay with it! sounds good!"

the two of you remained motionless on the bed. it was awkward. you couldn't tell if he felt the same or if he was already asleep. he was lying still on his back, eyes closed and face relaxed.

you tried not to move too much, but you couldn't help yourself from restlessly tossing and turning, pulling the cover that you were sharing slightly closer to your body. he was right; the night was really cold.

suddenly, you felt a hand on yours, not grabbing it, just resting there and applying enough pressure to get your attention. you noticed how warm his hand was and you cherished it.

"y/n," his voice was soothing in the quietness of the night, "stop moving so much,"

you stopped and his touch, warm and gentle, lingered before he completely retreated his hand.

after a moment, you lifted your head slightly, "doyoung?"

"hmm?"

"i'm cold,"

he eventually opened his eyes and got out of bed with a sigh; he headed towards his dresser, the path dimly lit by the moon and then he came back with a hoodie which he tossed at you. "here,"

you mumbled a 'thank-you' as you put it on, feeling both thankful yet also...disappointed. you weren't sure why though. what exactly were you expecting anyway?

once again, both of you lied down on your backs, neither moving; his eyes closed, and yours wide open. minutes passed before you began to feel restless again. somehow, your mind wouldn't stop thinking about how warm his hand was and how yours was itching to be held again.

you turned your body to completely face him as you edged closer to the pillow barrier between you two. "doyoung?" you tried.

you waited a few seconds.

"what?"

"i'm still cold,"

you waited a few seconds. a few more. and a few more.

you were certain you wouldn’t get a response anymore. he was probably tired and dying to get some sleep. and he already gave you a hoodie; what more could he do for you?

sleepless, you found yourself distracted by how pretty he looked in the pale moonlight that came through the window. you noticed an eyelash on his cheek and tentatively, you reached over to gently brush it away. you were tempted to wake him so that he can make a wish but that probably wasn't a good idea. despite how warm his hand was, his face was cool under your touch, his skin so soft that you found yourself lightly trailing a finger along his features; first his cheekbone, then his nose, and when your finger reached his lip, his breath deepened and his eyelids moved albeit still closed. you stopped dead.

you weren't sure whether knowing that he was awake made you feel more nervous or more delighted. perhaps both.

your fingertips lingered on his skin, waiting for him to stop you but he didn't. you felt compelled to continue and that’s what you did; your fingers began moving again, trailing over the shape of his lips. with each passing second, your movements gained more sense of ease and certainty as your feathery touch brushed along his jawline, creeping down his neck, and then his collarbone.

you watched, marvelled as his breath hitched softly.

your fingers edged up his neck again.

and his hand grabbed your wrist. there it was. that warm touch of his.

he opened his eyes and your gazes locked.

the look on his face was unreadable and it made you all the more nervous and excited. the eye-contact broke only when you gulped, trying to shove the nerves down, and his eyes followed the movement on your neck.

“you said you’re cold?”

you nodded.

letting go of your wrist, his eyes met yours again. “turn around.”

you looked at him uncertainly, suddenly feeling a tingling sensation in your fingertips and toes. “why?”

he gave you a small, reassuring smile, and his hand reached out to trace along your jaw and down your neck, the maneuver emulating yours earlier.

“you’ll see,”

you shifted your position and turned until you were facing the other way. behind you, you felt the pillow between you two being lifted and placed on the other side of the bed. soon after, doyoung wrapped his arms around yours, pulling the covers over your bodies and holding you close. back pressed against his chest, you entwined your arm with his and laced your fingers together.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, still and quiet.

it was him who broke the silence, “how about now?” he said, “are you still cold?”

you smiled, “no, this is really nice,”

“good.”

it was a little awkward and stiff at first. but after a while, it became peaceful as you both slowly relaxed and allowed yourselves to melt into the warm embrace. your breathing slowed down and your heart stopped racing. the steady rise and fall of his chest was so comforting and you found yourself snuggling closer against his chest and into his arms.

“honestly,” you began, voice quiet but light-hearted, “i was kind of thinking about something else when you told me to turn around,”

he hummed amusedly and let out a chuckle. then he leaned forward to hover his lips over your ear, “i know what you were thinking,” his voice was barely above a whisper and held a tone of refrained laughter.

you shivered but eventually bursted out laughing, and he promptly joined, unable to contain it in him any longer. the laughter in the stillness of the night was heavenly. doyoung muffled himself by burying his face in your neck to stop himself from laughing too loud for the sake of the neighbors, but that only caused you to laugh louder and harder because of the tickling sensation. in spite of himself, he managed to whisper soft ‘shh’s and gently covered your mouth with his hand from behind.

even as you both tried to calm yourselves down, you broke into fits of soft giggles every now and then. doyoung tried to sound annoyed as he told you to go to sleep but he couldn’t stop smiling.

you sighed, happy and content but also sad because you knew this moment would eventually pass, “i don’t want this to end,”

“don’t be silly,”

silence filled the room for a while.

“you can come sleep over whenever you want,” he said, hugging you closer, his voice soft and unwavering.

468 notes · View notes