#anyway if things look weird. no they don't
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The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots
Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.
Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k
A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!
General Masterlist | AO3
-&-
The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.
Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”
Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression.
“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”
“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”
The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.
“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”
Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.
-&-
A stupid tree.
A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.
That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.
She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.
But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.
When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.
She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.
“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”
It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.
Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.
“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?”
She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign.
Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.
“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”
You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”
She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”
Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.
A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds.
Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on.
You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it.
Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe.
Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.
“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you-
No. No thinking about this, not now.
She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.
She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony.
“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.
“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.
“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.
“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers. The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.
“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.
Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.
Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath.
You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.
When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.
“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away.
There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”
But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.
“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.
For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.
“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”
You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again.
“Can you use your words?”
“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”
She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still.
But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.
“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.
“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.
It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.
The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.
To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.
Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.
“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”
“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”
You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you.
Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going.
“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-”
Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first.
Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it.
It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.
She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.
“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.
“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question.
As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.
“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”
Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.
She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.
“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”
You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.
“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.
You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.
Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.
“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well.
“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately.
“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”
You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.
Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.
Some old habits never die.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#elizabeth olsen x reader#marvel imagines#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff imagines#wanda maximoff oneshots#wanda maximoff smut
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Shouldn't I want you?
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Summary: Spencer lets you break up with him, thinking he is not enough for you
Words: 2.1k
Warnings: angst, happy ending, arguments, mentions of ice-cream, lots of tears, swear words, use of y/n and pet names, mentions of Spencer being in prison
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Spencer has been acting weird lately. And you don't know why. He's been so distant. Making different excuses on why he couldn't make it to the dates.
He's also started texting you less and less. And the calls just seem forced from your side, like he doesn't even want to speak with you while away on cases.
It's honestly breaking your heart, and maybe that's Spencer's plan. To just break your heart so you would break up with him.
It's making you so anxious that you wait everyday for the text from him that will say 'It's over. I'm breaking up with you.' But it doesn't come, and you don't know what to think of it. You don't even know why would he want to break up. You don't think that you've done anything wrong, and you are very certain that Spencer hasn't done anything wrong either. This whole thing is just so unusual.
On the one hand, Spencer is almost ghosting you, but on the other hand he doesn't want to break up? You are so confused about the whole situation.
You are crying over the break-up that hasn't even happened yet, watching your tv with a big bowl of ice cream in your lap. Spencer's supposed to come home today from a case, but you know he's not going to come to your apartment. He hasn't done that in the last few weeks, not since he's started being so distant.
So you sit in a pit of your tears, cheesy rom-coms and a bucket of ice cream. Suddenly, there's a knock on your door, and looking at the clock you know exactly who it is.
You panic, you didn't expect him to come. You quickly wipe your tears away, and hide the ice cream in the freezer. You know that you look puffy anyways as you open the door with a big sigh and a fake smile.
Spencer, of course, sees right through it.
"Hi- what's wrong?" Spencer immediately asks with a frown. He pushes you gently out of the doorway, and steps inside too as he closes the door.
"N-nothing," you lie, trying to force a smile on your face, "what...what are you doing here?"
A quick flash of hurt and confusion passes over Spencer's face, "I wanted to see you."
You suck in a shaky breath,"oh."
"Oh?" Spencer asks, baffled. "Seriously sweetheart, what's wrong?"
"Don't-Don't call me that," you whisper, eyes on the ground.
"What?" Spencer's eyes go wide, "I shouldn't call you sweetheart?"
You sigh, and look up at Spencer. He looks so lost by what you mean, and for a split of a second you think good, let him be confused. You've been confused for the last few weeks because of him. But then you remember that it's Spencer, still very much the Spencer you love.
"Yes, you shouldn't," you sniffle a little, "because it's only hurting me more."
"I-" Spencer starts.
"Spencer, just let me finish. I think that we both know that you don't want to be in a relationship with me anymore. So please Spencer, let's just not do this anymore. I can't keep going on like this, it's-it's just too much. It hurts too much," you say, your cheeks wet with tears yet again.
Spencer stays quiet, it's actually one of the rare times that he doesn't know what to say, and it just breaks your heart even more.
"Y-you won't even say anything? No reason why?" your voice breaks in the middle of the sentence. But looking at Spencer's teary eyes and completely shut mouth, you know, you two are done.
"I-It's over, Spencer. Please just go, you can come take your things some other day," you don't even wait for him to say anything. You go open the door and look anywhere, but him while he slowly leaves.
You don't have the courage to look at him. You hear him sniffle, but don't look. You can't see his broken face, it would be even worse than it already is.
Spencer leaves, and you slam the door shut behind him. It feels like your heart is being cut open by millions of tiny glass pieces as soon as the door closes.
You barely manage to walk towards the couch before you break down. Sobs violently shaking with your body.
-
A few days go by, and it's only when you don't pick up your phone on like the 20th try does Penelope march into your apartment.
You reluctantly open the door after she knocks, and knocks, insisting she's not leaving until you open the door.
"Hi," you greet her, and you immediately notice her slightly shocked face at the sight of you. And you get it. You haven't slept properly for the last few days, and the almost constant tears can't help either.
"Oh my gosh, honey, come here," Penelope instantly pulls you into an embrace, and you melt into it like a puddle.
She squeezes you tightly until you're ready to let go. "Pen, what...what are you doing here? Did Spencer send you?"
"Don't even say his name. He's in big, big trouble," she says in her own angry way. A small smile appears on your face when she says it.
"I can't believe he's done this. He can be such an idiot sometimes even if he really is a genius," you don't argue with that, but you don't want to talk about Spencer either. He's been on your mind enough as it is right now.
"Can we...can we not talk about it? I just want to get over it, and move on as soon as possible, "you sigh. You let Penelope in, and you want to make her go sit down to the living room while you make the tea, but she insists on staying in the kitchen with you.
"Believe me, honey, I wouldn't want to talk about Spencer if it wasn't important," she starts, and your mind immediately goes to the worst possible scenario.
Seeing your wide, worried eyes she adds, "he's okay. He's just stupid, that's all."
"Yeah," you agree quietly, even if you know that it's not true. Spencer maybe used to be clueless about things like relationships, but that has changed. He was never clueless in your relationship.
"Oh sweetheart, " Penelope rubs your shoulder in comfort, "I could beat him up for making you so sad."
Her very serious tone makes you let out a small chuckle. You and her both know that she wouldn't even hurt a fly let alone Spencer, her dear friend.
"Thanks, Penny, but it's okay, I'm okay. Spencer didn't want to be with me anymore, and i-i made my peace with that or-or at least i will eventually."
"But that's just it. That's what I came here to tell you. Spencer loves you, and he just let dumb people with dumb opinions get to his head," you almost burn yourself with the warm water for the tea when you hear her words.
"What do you mean?" you quizz. You forget about the tea, and turn to her.
"He'd heard some people talk about you and him. Some colleagues saw you two together somewhere, and started gossiping. He heard them say that you're too good for him with him being in prison and all-"
"What? That's just ridiculous," you exclaim, you've never heard such a bullshit before.
Of course, you know that Spencer was in prison, but you also know he was innocent. You knew Spencer even before he went to prison, and maybe he did change a bit, but he was still the same Spencer. The Spencer you've always been in love with.
"Exactly, I told him the same, but he wouldn't listen, " she looks sympathetically at you, "I think that Spencer just loves you so much that he's willing to let you go for better or worse."
You are stunned. You stand there absolutely baffled, and Penelope just looks at you with understanding. It takes you good few minutes to finally say something.
"You knew about this?" you question as you head towards the door with Penelope on your heels.
"No, I found out yesterday otherwise I would have told you sooner," you quickly put on your shoes as you listen to her.
"I know you would. Thank you for telling me this, Pen. You're the best," you give her a tight hug.
"He's at home right now," she tells you, you appreciatively smile at her, and basically run to your car with Spencer on your mind.
-
When Spencer opens his door, you instantly push yourself inside. You don't give him even a second to react, protest or say anything.
"Spencer Reid!" you start angrily. "I can't fucking believe you. You let us break up over some stupid gossip? And you didn't even tell me?" You say, hurt.
"It's not stupid, it's true-" Spencer starts calmly, a complete contrast to you. But on the inside he feels like he's going to pass out. It was already hard for him without seeing you, but now it feels like hundred times worse.
"Like hell it is!" you argue. "Spencer of course you're enough for me. I don't care what anyone says. It's not even true anyways. I don't care that you've been in prison, i don't care about any of it."
"But it is true. I'm no good for you. You can do so much better, sweetheart. Like look at me," he gestures towards himself, " I'm such a mess, my life is always messy. You don't deserve this kind of life, you deserve so so much better. You don't deserve to be waiting late at night for me to come home, wondering if i even come home. I can't let you have that kind of life. I'm not worth it."
Finally, Spencer lets the tears go down his cheeks freely. He knows what he is giving up by breaking up with you. He'd planned his whole life with you by his side. But it's better this way. Well that's at least what he is telling himself anyway.
"Don't you get it, Spencer?" you laugh dryly from the frustration, "I don't want better. I don't want anyone else. I just want you. I want you, Spence."
You sniffle slightly, and look at Spencer with hopeless eyes begging him to understand.
"You shouldn't, sweetheart, you shouldn't want me," Spencer tells you helplessly, running his hands through his hair.
You take a brave step towards him.
"Why shouldn't I?" you start. "Shouldn't I want the sweetest, the kindest person I know in my life? Shouldn't I want to be with the person that makes me smile, and makes my heart go fast? Shouldn't I want to be with somebody I completely trust? Shouldn't I want my best friend in my life forever? Shouldn't I want somebody who I feel safe with? Shouldn't I be with somebody I love the most?"
"So Spencer you tell me? Shouldn't i? Shouldn't i want you?" your cheeks are wet from the flowing tears, too.
Spencer shakes his head. You're impossible. How could he ever think that you'd just get over him without questioning why. He should have known better than that.
Spencer takes the final step that's between you two, and softly wipes away the tears from your puffy cheeks.
"I just want what's best for you," he whispers with a broken voice. Looking right into your watery eyes.
"Then let me have you!" You point at his chest with a sniffle. You see Spencer's face soften, like he finally understands.
Spencer's hands move from your cheeks to your hips, and he pulls you closer to him. "A-are you sure?"
"Spencer, you're unbelievable, " you say, vexed, "there's no one else for me Spence. No one."
Your words are the final thing for Spencer to breakdown, to allow himself to be with you. He pulls you towards him, hugging you oh so tightly. He hides his face into the space between your neck and shoulder. You feel the wetness of his tears run down your skin.
"There's no one else for me, too," he whispers into your shoulder. You hum in agreement, not ready to say anything yet.
After a few minutes you pull away, caressing Spencer's cheek you smile at him. "I love you," you mumble, "Please don't ever let people get to your head like this. At least not without telling me, yeah?"
"Yeah," Spencer says in hushed voice, leaning into your gentle touch. "I love you, thank you for not letting me be an idiot."
You both chuckle, sniffling, and it finally feels like it's all going to be okay. Like your worlds won't be ending after all.
You and Spencer go snuggle on his couch, content to be near each other again after the few days apart, and even if you know that there's still a conversation to be held tomorrow, you feel happy.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid
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thinking about c!dream earlier on in the server just makes me sad man. like, c!dream has never been a perfect character. he's always been flawed, always been a bit of an asshole, always had control issues. but also he knew that. he tried to work on that. he and tommy were friends, despite being flawed people with their own issues that would bump into conflicts because of the ways that they differed. c!dream tried, god, he tried; he wasn't even on the server, when the drug van happened, and walked into a place with someone who was practically a stranger to him building a wall and calling for war and having turned half the people dream knew against him, apparently, for no reason that he could've known at the time, and he had looked straight at tommy and tubbo and asked if that was what they really wanted when wilbur told them that there was no such thing as dual citizenship. he tells tommy when he has to sell a disc for spirit's leather even though tommy had surrendered the discs to him at the end of the revolution because he knows it'll matter to him. he and tommy truce, multiple times, and c!dream gets tangled into conflicts that literally don't involve him repeatedly and gets targeted Because He's Dream repeatedly and he plays along with that trivia contest and he gives gifts to fundy and tommy after terrorizing them a little for fun and he plays along with the dreamon thing and he keeps getting pulled into fights that weren't his but tries to make them a little more fair when they get him involved. he fucks around with tommy and they have fun, they're friends, and when he and wilbur look like they're in danger dream is one of the first to find them and lend them real, practical, valuable aid. he calls himself "Big D" in that book and he tells the man that wrote him as a tyrant that he doesn't want to be a villain in the story anymore. he asks tommy if he's okay, and watches that kid's back when he walks alone and unarmed into manberg, and fights with him at the battle of the lake and all of that is thrown back in his face as being a lie. half the intial community structures that exist were built by him; the community house, the nether portal and hub, the prime path. during a time where every other piece of leverage got burned or killed (rip the casualties of the pet war), dream was kind of known for being one that could be fairly traded with, that would minimize permanent damage. the kills in the final control room were originally to strip lmanburg of their gear, which he had kept in a chest so it could be returned to them after the war.
like no c!dream isn't perfect at the beginning of the server. yes he's kind of a jerk sometimes, kind of an asshole sometimes, kind of neurotic most of the time. but god dammit like c!dream does try to mitigate the worst of his control issues, when they flare up early on; the initial disc war ends with tommy getting his discs back as well as a stack of diamonds, in exchange for a netherite chestplate. he's a flawed character and he's still someone pretty friendly on the whole to most of the server, he's also kind of just known for being a little weird. he gives gifts randomly. he fixed creeper holes, and houses, and went along with bits. like whatever im a c!drolo c!dream woobifier and i admit it lol but for as much evil as he ends up doing, pretty damn consistently early on, he's . friendly? kind? funny? helpful? their neighbor. their friend. c!dream isn't just some stranger that flew off the handle; he's someone they knew and lived with who had his actions taken in bad faith because the goddamn story said so and kept fucking trying anyway until he believed the lie too. like he was just a guy!! a guy they knew and lived with!!! like my god
#this is not coherent but#alsjdfaks;jf;j#like maybe i sound deranged when i say this but he was literally just a good dude#not a perfect person definitely an asshole sometimes and how violence and such gets redefined when you look back#makes this all a bit messier considering people kind of killed each other a lot back then bc respawns meant nothing#but. he was literally like. like he was just a normal guy who actually tried pretty damn hard to be good to the people he cared about#and SPOILER ALERT !!! HE KIND OF CARED ABT MOST OF THE PEOPLE ON THE SERVER AT THAT POINT
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¨˜ˆ”°⍣~•✡⊹٭„¸ Sweet Misunderstanding ¸„٭⊹✡•~⍣°`"~
͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Synopsis: Asking Chuuya to buy you "pads with wings."
͟͟͞꒰➳ Super Fluff!
͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Got the idea from this video Click me!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.
You were feeling odd today.. oh right.. it's time of the month and you don't have any pads left. So you decided to ask Chuuya to buy you some.. after all its an emergency.
"Chuu.. can you buy me something pleaaase?"
Chuuya hums, as if considering your request for a moment before replying.
"Hm? Whaddya want me t'buy, Doll? Be more specific."
"Pads with wings.. i need it right now.."
Chuuya raises his eyebrows at the suddenness of the request, but he’s not bothered. If you need it, he’s gonna get it. However, it raises another question, one he probably shouldn’t ask.
“It’s that time o’ the month, huh?”
Chuuya chuckles when you nod in response to his question. He reaches over from his side of the bed and rubs your back soothingly. To him, it’s just a natural thing. You’re a woman, he knows how much it sucks to have your period.
“Yeah. Sure, I’ll go a store an’ get you some.” He rises out of bed and walks toward the door. Pausing, he looks back to you, grinning and winking cheekily.
“Gonna need a list of anything else besides pads?”
"Just pads with wings.." You said..
"Gotcha. I'll be right back."
He exits the room and then shortly after he leaves the apartment. He's gone for about an hour before he returns, carrying a bag from a local drugstore.
"Here you go, Darling. A whole ass supply of pads and chicken wings. Plus, uh, some candy cause I figured you want some sweets after that." Chuuya grins, and he seemed confident.
You were confused as you didn't asked for 'chicken wings' as you giggled.
"Why there's a Chicken wings here?" You said as you can't contain your laughter.
Chuuya looks down in confusion, then glances around the bag. His confusion deepens when he sees the chicken wings in there. He must've either zoned out or misheard you.
"...I thought you said you asked for pads with wings?" He replies, trying to get some clarification just in case he was right the whole time.
"Yeah i did.." You said still giggling.
Chuuya sighs. He's trying, really, but he's just not getting it. He scratches his head, thinking that maybe if he just says what he's thinking directly to you, you'd be able to clarify what you originally meant.
"Hey, Doll. I'm kinda slow today, so bear wit' me. When you asked for pads with wings, were you sayin' you wanted me to buy ya pads and wings, or were you sayin' you wanted me to buy you pads that literally have wings-"
You've been laughing on the entire situation as Chuuya got slight annoyed.. but he can't help but adored your laughing.
"I thought you knew what was you're going to buy.." you said..
"...Yeah. I should've known." Chuuya mutters as he sighs. He knows you well enough to have known what you were implying at. He just wasn't thinking it through correctly. It was just such a weird request. How can one NOT imagine pads with literal wings on them if somebody just said "pads with wings"?!
"...Forget it. Anyways, I got 'em for ya. Now quit bein' a smartass and help me finish these chicken wings before they get cold."
As both of you enjoyed the Chicken Wings and you still can't stop thinking about how funny it is as it makes Chuuya embarrassed and annoyed.. but he thinks.. buying it accidentally wasn't so bad, after all.. it was a sweet misunderstanding.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.
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15:07 ✿ lee heeseung ⁝ 1.2k words
Heeseung stands at the gate of the school. his hands are tucked into his pockets as he shivers, his chin pushed into the deep warmth of his branded scarf and smoke comes out of his lips. It's freezing. Though the sun is out and it's shining painfully bright, casting shadows on everything, the weather is reaching below the positive range of temperature. But Heeseung waits.
Then when he hears the slightest bristle of sound coming from his right, he turns. And like a kid getting to enjoy his candy after dinner, Heeseung smiles the prettiest smile upon seeing you. He pulls his hands out of his expensive coat pocket and reaches one of it out to you.
In the gentlest way possible, Heeseung speaks, “You're here. Shall we go?”
His voice is void of annoyance or anger even though he waited for you for almost half an hour in this dying cold. He remains the sweet, patient him. When you don't walk towards him, he does it instead, then with no hesitation, pulls the scarf wrapped around his neck out and tugs it around you instead. “It's cold, you should be keeping warm,” he utters quietly, as if you don't aren't already. You don't fight him on it, and instead nod, grinning back grateful with tight lips.
Heeseung pinches your cheek gently, then slips his hands into yours, “Let's go.” He says, pulling you along with him. You find yourself doing so, as if it's natural to be there beside him and have your hands wrapped around his in the warmest way. Everything about Heeseung entrances you. You can't help going with the flow when it comes to him and you feel like you'd do anything he says.
You know you shouldn't, you know you can't, but you do it anyway.
“You're awfully quiet today,” he says.
“Am I?” You know you are, but you'll just play pretend for now.
“Mhm, everything okay?”
You nod, tightening your grip on his, forcing the best smile you can, “Of course. Just tired, y'know?” He nods. “But how was your day today? What'd you do?”
Heeseung ponders with a hum, then swiftly, he tugs you towards his side and lets go of your hand, then naturally, he swings an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer. “Not much, just the usual. But hey, my mom called me earlier at lunch.”
“Yeah? What'd she say?”
“She asked me to call you up for dinner tomorrow.”
That surprises you as you pull back in shock, “Me? Tomorrow? Your dad's okay with that?” Your reaction doesn't phase him at all, as he smoothly closes the gap and rests his head against yours. “Yeah, you. Tomorrow. And don't worry about my dad, I know he's mean and harsh, but we can simply ignore his presence.” He jokes with a laugh. You fake one in return.
You know you can't ignore him, especially with the way things had happened before, you know Heeseung's father absolutely despises you and your presence, but to Heeseung, what his father thinks doesn't and will never matter. And if this was some fairytale bullshit you'd agree but you can't — you can't be the reason Heeseung and his father are on bad terms.
“I'll tell my mom you'll be there. She'll be so happy, she loves you more than she loves me, I swear.” Heeseung says with a grin, “Come on, the bus is here.” You give a vague smile.
As usual, it's a pretty quiet ride, with the occasional pecks Heeseung gives against your hand in his. It feels warm now, and he is the reason for it. You fear the cold will get in between any time soon.
“Heeseung? Hey, man! It's been awhile, hasn't it?” An unfamiliar voice calls out. When you look up, it's a man with a wide smile, excited over bumping into your boyfriend on the bus. You glance over at the latter, and his eyes shine. "Jake! It's been awhile, yeah! How've you been?” Heeseung is giving off the same excitement, and it seems this Jake guy is an old friend of his.
Jake pats Heeseung's shoulder, “I've been good, bro. What about you?” He questions back, then with a gruff laugh, he continues, “Weird to see you on a bus, you used to have a driver to send you home everyday.” It's a harmless comment, something nostalgic for them to look back on, but when you look at your boyfriend, he's flushed red.
You wonder if he feels the same as you do.
“Nah man,” Heeseung brushes off the latter comment, “Just, you know, I've been good.”
“Oh that's nice. Well I would chat more, but this is my stop, so I gotta go. But let's catch up soon yeah?” Jake rushes off with a goodbye, and your eyes follow so until the bus continues its' journey then you look back at the man beside you. He's smiling to himself so you nudge him, “What's up?”
He shakes his head, like giddy, “Nothing. Just happy.”
You're not sure what he's talking about, but you chuckle, then you lean your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes. Whatever you want to say, you'll do it later.
It's as if time passes by in a blink, because the next thing you know, Heeseung taps you awake and tells you it's his stop and he needs to get off. He used to send you off to your house then route back to his place but after some time, you told him to just go back first, and he reluctantly agreed.
His stop comes in a few more seconds, but as he stands with his hand still linked with yours, you find yourself unable to let go. You don't know if you're ready, honestly. Heeseung giggles with tinted cheeks, “You're pretty clingy today. I think I like it a lot.” You wonder if he'll still like it when you tell him why later.
You follow him to the exit of the bus door, and he alights too quickly for your liking. He turns to face you on the outside, the door still open, and you know.
This. Is. It.
“Heeseung,” you begin softly. He hums, unknowing.
“I...”
There's not much time. It's now or never.
“Let's end this.” And then it's out. The door is beeping, it's going to close. Heeseung registers it a second slower as his smile drops and he goes, “What?”
The beep increases louder and faster and you push the words out of your mouth as the doors begin to come to a close.
“I'm breaking up with you.”
And then. Silence.
The door closes, and you're left on the bus in the chilly emptiness and Heeseung stands on the other side, still. He's looking at you, even as the bus drives off.
Your eyes burn as you drop into the nearest seat and then everything rushes out like a waterfall. You sob into your hands, glancing up for a moment to look behind, and you see Heeseung running. It's no use, he can't outrun a bus, but the look of desperation on his face completely shatters your heart into pieces you don't think can be pieced together ever again.
© JAEMINRI, 2024
#kflixnet#k-labels#said i wasnt gonna write but here i am.#i luv this#what if.. full fic#lol! kidding#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen heeseung#lee heeseung x you#lee heeseung x y/n#lee heesung x reader#heeseung x y/n#heeseung x reader#heeseung x you
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Friends, lovers… and an orange | Chapter 4
Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Tuesday)
Masterlist
"It was so weird, mum... Like, the moment I mentioned his agency, he went all serious and then avoided my question. And before that, he didn't smile like he usually does."
"Since when do you pay attention to the way Mason smiles?" Elizabeth chuckled.
"That's a really good question" Adele thought. "Anyway, do you think... Could an agency do that? Call the paps on one of their clients as some kind of revenge?"
After the chaos at the airport, she and Mason had talked about who could have tipped off the photographers. The only people who knew they were flying that day were their brothers, Jourdan and his agency, and the first three would never say anything. The others...
"That's too twisted" Elizabeth said. "But I know they've called them without letting their client know because it made the photos look more natural, like actual candids."
"Did that ever happen to you and dad?"
"Never. We were stalked, followed everywhere, harassed... But my agency always protected me."
Adele's parents hadn't had it easy. Her father was the heir of a very important family in the US and was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, and when the press had found out that they were dating, they had gone crazy. Both had been followed everywhere they went, their faces being on all the magazines. The supermodel and the heir, most headlines would say. And his family didn't like it.
They considered Elizabeth not enough for their son, and had done everything in their power to make them break up. When they got engaged after years of dating, his family hadn't met her yet, and when Adele's dad took Elizabeth's last name instead of being the other way around, they even threatened him with disinheriting him. But they fought for their love despite everything and everyone, and they still were together, happier than ever.
"So you don't think Mason's agency could have done it?"
"I don't, no" Elizabeth said. "But less talking about pretty boys and annoying paparazzis, and more about this!" she said, gesturing towards their car's window.
Between Jourdan, Mason and her mum constantly sending her photos of their old trips together, Adele had finally said yes to going to Paris. She would be joining her backstage at the couple of shows she was walking, attending one as a guest with her, and a couple of parties too. Would she end up regretting it? Probably.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"I am so glad you accepted our invitation, Adele" said Maria Grazia Chiuri, Dior's creative director, when she met them for their fitting.
"Thank you for inviting me" she smiled.
"I myself have picked some looks for you that I think will be perfect."
"Oh, wow. That's so kind."
"Anything for you, girls."
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Red or black?" Elizabeth asked while looking at herself in the mirror.
"Black" Adele and Maria Grazia said at the same time.
"Black it is."
"Adele, now that I have you here, I have to ask again. Are you sure you wouldn't like to join your mum for our mother's day campaign? It would be just a one time thing."
"I'm sorry, Maria Grazia. But being in front of the camera isn't my thing."
"Then what about behind the camera?"
"What?" Adele said.
"Oh, that's an amazing idea! You could take my photos!" Elizabeth said while getting changed.
"Mum, I'm not a professional photographer. There are better people for that than me."
"It wouldn't be as special, tho. And a daughter taking photos of her mother would also work for our campaign" Maria Grazia said.
"I don't think it is a good idea. What would the photographer you hired say?"
"If I explain it to him, he'll understand. Why don't I ask someone from my team to send you the mood board for the campaign so you can get an idea of what we want?"
"And Addie could send your photographer some of her photos so you know what she can do" Elizabeth added.
"Perfect!" Maria Grazia said, not allowing Adele to protest.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"I think someone fancies you."
"What?" Adele said. She and Elizabeth had been in Paris for a few days already, everything going pretty well keeping in mind what had been going on back home and in New York. Paparazzis bothered them the usual during fashion week, and all the headlines were about her and her mum, their outfits, and how much they were loving that they were finally doing fashion stuff together.
That night, they were attending a Vogue party where they were joined by people she only saw on Instagram. Models, musicians, actors... Even a couple of football players too.
"That cute guy over there" Elizabeth said, nodding towards her left. "He can't stop looking at you."
"Who... What..." she said, slowly turning around to look at him. When they eyes met, he smiled at her, and Adele heard herself giggling. He had a dimple on his left cheek, just like Mason did. Mason...
"Go talk to him."
"What?"
"C'mon" her mum said, pushing her towards him.
"But I don't know who he is.”
"An actor from one of those superhero movies. Now go."
"But..."
"Hello there" the cute guy said, his dimple showing in all its glory once again.
"Hi."
"You are Adele Turlington, right?"
"Yep. And you are... Sorry, I'm really bad with names" she smiled, hoping her lie would work.
"Nico Evans."
"Nico, yes, of course! I was thinking about your character's name and I didn't want to say something stupid."
"Nah, it's ok. I'm used to it" he smiled again. God, he was cute. "Would you like to grab a drink?"
"I would love that."
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"What time is it?" Adele yawned.
"Too early. Go back to sleep" Nico whispered.
"Then why are you leaving?"
"Because I am attending a show in an hour, and I haven't showered or got changed" he chuckled.
"Oh..."
"Would you like to meet again?" Nico said after finishing tying up his shoes. "Maybe for lunch? I'm leaving tonight."
"I... I can't. My mum and I are meeting some friends of hers that we haven't seen in ages and..."
"Oh, it's ok. Don't worry" Nico smiled, that dimple he shared with Mason showing up again. Why was she thinking about him again? "Maybe another time."
"Yeah, maybe."
"Thank you for last night, Adele. That was... That was amazing. Definitely a highlight of my fashion week" he smirked.
"You're welcome" she giggled, feeling her cheeks get warm.
"Good bye, Miss Turlington. See you soon" he said, giving her a peck.
"Good bye, Mr. Evans" she replied.
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In which I try not to be That Guy TM when it comes to Irish ancestors: An exploration of ancestry, diaspora and culture
Because of The Horrors TM in my life atm I've been looking into my biological family tree. I'm adopted but estranged from my adoptive family and I never met my biological family since I was adopted just short of my 2nd birthday. I've been tracing my ancestry for about 3 years now and it's genuinely quite stress relieving to me. It's also fun and challenging from a research standpoint - putting together my own family tree gave me the skills to write articles like this one I wrote in 2022 about historical Welsh queer people, for example.
Lately, I've been finding out more about my Irish ancestors while an adoptee (and thus not knowing any of my biological family) - but also doing this as a Celticist and tired of people doing the 'my sister's friend's cousin's father's mother was Irish' thing. This has created an almost unbearable tension between curiosity at my own ancestry while trying not to be That Guy who finds out about one (1) Irish ancestor hundreds of years ago and is weird about it.
Especially since mine are quite distant ancestors - my great, great, great grandparents were born in Dublin and in a tiny village in County Down called Dunnaman (near Kilkeel). However, they were Irish Catholics and emigrated to Liverpool in the 1870s - all of their subsequent children and grandchildren were born in Liverpool and all of the above + great grandchildren were raised Catholic - including my grandmother (who died before I was born). So there was an obvious attempt to maintain that heritage. There's even evidence my great, great, great grandmother at least spoke Irish (which, as she was born in County Down, would have been Ulster Irish).
The problems with uncritically throwing oneself at an ancestor's nationality:
Now, not all North Americans of Irish (or Welsh, Scottish, Italian, Scandinavian, German etc.) descent do this - but there's a very vocal set of North Americans of Irish descent who find awe and interest in their ancestry - which is actually quite a positive thing! - however, due to either temporal or cultural disconnect, they may end up doing or saying things (and not necessarily with bad intentions) which can have a negative impact on the Irish and the Irish language (or [nationality] and [language(s) associated with that nationality].
I'm reminded of the time an American commented on a Welsh language rights post I made in support of Welsh speakers, but they accidentally ended up using a white nationalist slogan by mistake. It can be a minefield - and with regards to Ireland specifically, mistakes like that can be so much worse. To literally give my own (mild) example, today I decided to relearn Irish (since I haven't spoken any in years since being taught basics at undergrad) and picked up a blank notebook I bought at Tesco the other week, while completely forgetting the inside cover of the notebook was orange. I was planning on decorating the notebook anyway and painted it a different colour. While I know that nobody would really hold it against me if I didn't change the colour, I just know that walking around with an orange notebook filled with Irish I'm relearning because of interest in my Catholic ancestors could be a confusing set of messages, at the very least. If you don't understand why this is, look up the meanings of the colours on the flag of Ireland.
Which is to say, even those of us in Northern Europe who have significantly greater physical proximity to Ireland than North America (and therefore should know better) still can and do get things wrong. And not just benignly wrong like in my case.
The tendency for some North Americans of Irish descent (Canada isn't exempt from this) to conflate Irish ancestry with a contemporary connection to the modern countries located on the island of Ireland as a whole can have results ranging from 'a bit weird' to 'jesus fucking christ'. As a Celticist, I've seen far, far too many Americans of Irish descent try to weigh in on modern Irish politics without any background knowledge or tact at all - and naturally they stake their claim on modern Irish politics entirely on the premise of having distant Irish ancestors. Or, even worse, things start to get all phrenological.
'Irish blood' and the nonexistence thereof:
'Irish blood' is continually evoked by some to validate their sense of 'Irishness' and the obsession with '[insert nationality] blood' is a distinctly North American phenomenon- likely related to or an offshoot of the concept of 'blood quantum', in which enrolment into some Native American nations and tribes is determined by how much 'Native blood' a person has. Notably, many people who would ostensibly have been described under this system as 'full blood' were registered by the US as 'half blood'. This is a method of genocide intended to wipe out tribes and nations by imposing strict measures of who does or does not qualify to enrol into a tribe or nation. This concept seems to have been extrapolated over time (in a North American context at least) into the idea of descent from other nationalities' being measured in a similar or adjacent way. This is how you end up with some North Americans declaring they are '1/8 Italian and 1/4 Irish' on their dad's side etc. While in Europe (where these nationalities hail from, crucially) this practice is seen as a really weird way to describe your ancestry. In general, it's simply 'my 4 times grandfather came from Spain' or 'my great great grandfather on my dad's side came from Finland' etc. if it comes up at all. For various political reasons, many Europeans with descent from multiple other European nationalities may choose to omit to mention descent from certain nationalities, especially if in recent history there has been conflict between their birth nation and an ancestor's nation. The most famous example of this is literally the British royal family changing their surname from the German Saxe-Coburg and Gotha to the more 'British sounding' Windsor in 1917 due to the onset of the First World War.
Where it gets really weird (and also very offensive and rude) is when cultural stereotypes get invoked alongside the whole 'blood' thing in usually quite damaging and/or disparaging ways. I've seen way too many North Americans of Irish descent claim they're alcoholics because they have 'Irish blood' or even worse, claim it's normal to domestically abuse their spouses because of it!! (Genuine thing I have seen btw). Same goes for claiming to be a naturally good chef because of 'Italian blood' and so on. As a general rule, people from the place where your ancestors were from don't generally like to be inherently be considered drunks or prone to violence due to their nationality. Or have weird and inaccurate idealisms projected onto their language or cuisine.
Aren't there any positives?
It wouldn't be fair to make a post like this without mentioning some of the positives that can come from interest in an Irish ancestor. Like I mentioned at the start of this post, I myself felt inspired to relearn Irish because of my own Irish ancestors. I was taught the Connacht dialect at undergrad, however, since my ancestor was from County Down, I'm going to try and learn Ulster Irish instead. One doesn't need Irish ancestors to learn Irish of course - when I learned I wasn't aware I had any Irish ancestors. But being inspired to learn Irish because of an ancestor can't hurt and directly increases the number of Irish speakers in the world (provided you keep at it). This is a net positive for the language as a whole.
Similarly, people who have educated themselves on Irish politics because of their ancestry and genuinely learned something are also a positive thing to come out of discovering Irish ancestors. In my experience, these people are the kind of people I enjoy talking to about being a Celticist because they actively want to learn and respect the cultures being talked about. Which is huge to me!
Conclusion:
As a Welsh speaker whose national identity is more-or-less Jan Morris-esque, my Irish ancestry is an interesting facet of my ancestry I simply didn't know about before. And being an adopted person, I can sympathise with the general sentiment of a lot of white North Americans of feeling disconnected or alienated from any ancestral heritage. The conditions which create That Guy TM as described above rely on that sense of alienation to propagate a very ineffective, tactless and often very insensitive approach to Irish and other European cultures. But the important thing is that that approach can be challenged by people genuinely interested in their ancestry who are also conscientious of the living versions of the cultures their ancestors hailed from.
For me, that means learning Irish in a dialect my ancestors are likely to have spoken. I also visited the library today to check out some books on the Irish emigration to England and the sociopolitical reasons behind that emigration. I know the broad strokes, but the details are desirable to know to get a better idea of the why and how the country of my birth had a hand in creating the conditions which led my ancestors to emigrate in the first place. I think the world would be a better place if people took the time to understand the history and politics of ancestors which don't share their nationality.
As always, reblogs and thoughts are welcomed and encouraged!
Thank you for reading to the end - and if you'd like to support me, please see my pinned post. Diolch!
#long post#Ireland#Irish#Gaelige#Celtic Studies#Celticist#Irish diaspora#Irish americans#blood quantum cw#racism cw#(just in case)#ancestry#geneology#family history#I've probably made typos but it's 11:40pm and I need to go to sleep
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While We're Young | 1.0k
Anton x reader
Note : this was gonna be part 1 of a series a scrapped 😔 anyways this is heavily based of While We’re Young by Jhenè Aiko
Warnings : first love trope, mention of other idols (Naori Rei), based in America (but I'm British...), kissing, my first time writing purely fluff
You stared at the vacant courtyard, eyes focusing on the way the leaves sway with each blow of wind. You've always found tranquility in nature. Whether it be the chirping of the morning birds or the humming of a bee passing by, it didn't matter. It felt like all the stress of exams and university melted away once you remembered how little you are compared to nature, like a drop of water in the ocean. You were quickly dragged out of your thoughts once you recognised a familiar person strolling through the grassy scenery. Anton.
You knew he didn't have any lectures today so you were surprised to say the least. Hastily, you gathered your belongings and got ready to leave. And as if on cue, your lecturer began to thank everyone for coming as people began to filter out of the room. buzz buzz buzz. Once you stepped into the hallway, you held your phone up to your ear.
"Hi Anton, where are you going?" You spoke as you navigated your way through the busy corridor.
"Hey Angel" He spoke from behind you before ending the call.
"I told you not to call me that!" You pouted and playfully slapped his side. Best friends aren't supposed to say things like that, things that cause butterflies to flutter crazily in your stomach, things that make your heart pound against your ribs.
"Lets say 'fuck everyone' and walk hand and hand to the Sun"
He intertwines his fingers with yours as he says "Don't act like you don't love it" in a teasing tone. You don't reply. Opting for silence rather than letting him hear the truth. You do love it. You love the way it sounds coming out his lips. Gosh, his lips are so pretty, so soft. You just wanna see how they'll feel against your fingers or better yet, your own lips.
"Telling everybody your mine and I like it"
The way your mind reeled over every little thing he did was a common occurrence at this point. It started during the last year high school, it was one of those swimming practices where everyone just felt lazy. As Anton was getting out the pool he asked you to help him but instead of him getting out, you got in. He pulled you close to him as you dropped into the deep end of the pool. Later that evening, as you were trying to sleep, you couldn't take your mind off how his hands felt around you. It was so... odd. If you really wanted to take it back to the root though, you'd have to go back to the start of highschool when you over heard Naoi Rei and her group talking about how good looking Anton is. You felt this weird jealousy and instead of just letting it go you decided to make it very clear that Anton was somewhat yours. Looking back, it was a bit extreme but at least it got the message across.
"Y/n? Helloooo, earth to y/n" he waves his free hand in front of your face. "Sorry, what were you saying" you look up at him with an apologetic smile. He explains the whole thing once again. He tells you how he actually wanted to pick you up from class so you could go to his dorm to have a movie night. Usually you'd show up to Anton's dorm once you had freshened up and gotten snacks but Anton quickly reassured you that the dorm will be empty so you can shower there and he's already gotten the snacks.
"I'll go everywhere you go"
The sun had begun to set by the time you climbed into his bed, leaning your back against the headboard. The familiar scent of your best friend engulfed your senses. Anton adjusted and laid his head on your lap, humming when he feels your fingers run through his fluffy hair.
You sat in a comfortable silence, his focus on the movie as you watched him smile at the screen. Looking up, you see the main couple kissing each other in the rain. Your eyes wander back down and you begin to feel the familiar butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
“Anton?” You whispered, unsure of what you're gonna say next.
"hm?" he smiles as he turns his head towards you.
“Can I kiss you?” You say in the same quiet voice as before, the rhythmic beating of your heat quickly sped up. His eyes widen slightly and his lips part before he nods, tucking his lower lip between his teeth.
You bend down and kiss him hesitantly, savouring the pillowy feeling of his lips. You feel him lean into the kiss before placing his hand on your neck to bring you closer. The room felt like it was spinning by the time you separated. Anton sat up and looked at you with wide eyes. "Again?" he said beneath his breath.
This time was different, more romantic. The way your lips moved against each other could only be described as a dance, both of you moving along with an imaginary beat.
“Wait” you confess as you pulled away from him. He quickly makes some distance between the two of you. “I can’t go further if we’re just friends”.
It’s silent for a couple moments after that, “Anton? Are we just friends”. That’s all it took for the feelings he’s been hiding to just tumble out of him. He quickly denies the question and tells you about how he’s been wanting this for so long but didn’t want to lose you.
“I didn’t want to scare you away” he admits. He was always so considerate, especially when it came to you. "You could never" you reassured him before hugging him.
A familiar sense of tranquility washed over you as you tighten the embrace, nuzzling your head into his chest.
#riize x reader#riize imagines#anton imagines#anton x reader#eve’s beach party#riize fluff#anton fluff#kpop fluff
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Fucked up Monday. 2/3
Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/daribertduck/748615753776955392/fucked-up-monday
A/n: Before you guys kill me; I’m already writing part 3. don’t you worry it’s coming your way. Please comment & repost, it’s giving me much motivation!
Summary: After Ellie kissed you on Patrol, everything was turning weird, you’re full of guilt and other feelings... What happens when your life turns from agonizing to better to so much worse? And why exactly can a few letters change everything?
Warnings: none? I think?
Taglist: @bready101 @lia-winther @liciapeonia @darkerstarsstuff @patricks-fabulous-face ( I tagged some people from my comments, hope that’s alright)
-5700k words
„And I thought I was weird for feeling uncomfortable at that, you know? They broke up, it's not really his place to say anything like that especially after telling Dina he's over her anyways" You're best friend said, finishing up her explanation of yesterdays event with Dina and Jesse. He found the two of them smoking near a warehouse and from what you made out of Ellie's explanation, he wasn't too happy to see them sitting so close.
You and Ellie were having another movie night, those happen pretty often. ( Every Wednesday, to be exact.) sitting on the old sofa in your living room with you're legs resting on hers. „Well, it's still fresh. Don't think he's jealous of the two of you spending lots of time together but maybe it's just a weird feeling seeing her with someone else, though there's absolutely nothing between you and Dina" you replied, chuckling at the thought of Jesse being all jealous over nothing. You rested your head back against the many sofa pillows, enjoying the comfy half sitting half laying position you're in. „Yeah.. totally" Ellie mumbled, looking down at her hands resting on top of you ankles, shifting uncomfortably. Knowing Ellie probably better than anyone else, you knew right away that something seems off.
„Wait.." you said, sensing the weird vibe from you're best friend. „There is nothing between you two, right?" you said, lifting you're upper body into a more sitting posture. „Ellie?" you said her name as you're so called friend didn't answer right away. You felt you're heart stink, not really being sure of what's going on exactly. „uhm.. I don't wanna talk about it?" she said, looking at you with an apologetic look, making it sound more like a question than an real steady answer. „Hell no, remember our ‚no lying rule'?" you said. „Cmon we made that rule as we were 15, that's childish." she said while caressing through her hair, suddenly looking all exhausted. „It wasn't childish when I had my first kiss and didn't want to talk about it" You mentioned. Remembering the night you ran about 2 miles to Ellie's house after spending the afternoon with some other kids in the pub, playing some stupid games. After you kissed Sophia as you're truth or dare quest you took of running, straight into the arms of the brown haired girl who couldn't participate that nights event due to a cold. Ellie knew something must've happened and as you really didn't want to talk about it, embarrassed by the fact that everyone could probably tell you never kissed anyone ever before, Ellie set up a rule. *„Let's promise to always be honest, life is too fucked up to screw it up with lies"* you knew she was right and since that night you tried to always be honest to each other.
„Cmon that's totally different!" Ellie defended herself, crossing her arms above her chest. „Jesus, Williams, answer the fucking question and stop being difficult" you said with a light voice, feeling like Ellie was some deer that takes of running as soon as you're tone was slightly off. „I mean, there is nothing between me and Dina.. so" she explained and you could tell that She was satisfied with her answer since her shoulders became less tense. „But you wish there was?" you asked, not able to look at Ellie you decided to give you're hands something to do, grabbing the soda can you had standing infront of you at the table. „I.. yeah, I guess? Okay. Who am I kidding" she said, her hands running over her face. She revealed a slight laugh. „Oh god" she groaned, now fully blushing like a 13 year old teenager. „Yeah, yeah I do like her. Fuck, this is the first time admitting it out loud" she said.
You took a sip from you're soda, the carbonic acid being long gone since you opened the can almost 2 hours ago, giving you a second or two to continue to stay silent. Having the opportunity to ignore the trouble of you're mind right now
The Jealousy building up inside of you made you think like you're going all crazy, fighting against the urge to scream inside a pillow you took that energy elsewhere. „okay, good for you" you said, taking another sip from the drink, hoping to put out the fire building up in you're chest. Ellie looked at you saying „it's not weird, right? Falling for her?" you looked at her again, considering of telling her what you really think. You consider of telling her that's it's not weird, but you don't like it either. No , you hate it. You hate it so much because you want Ellie to fall for you instead of her.
But you didn't say that. Instead you betrayed your 15 year old self by lying to Ellie and yourself.
It's been three months, 4 days and 2,5 Hours without a word from her.
Ever since then , You are entangled in the delicate web of grief for what felt like for two people, where the threads of loss and longing weave intricate patterns within your heart. Two souls, distinct yet equally significant, find their place in the chambers of your being.
Dylan, now resting six feet under, has embarked on a journey beyond the veil. His earthly vessel lies cradled by the soil, while his essence pirouettes among the constellations. The wasteland of the unknown stretches before him—And then there's your best friend, a constellation of memories and shared secrets. But her presence has become elusive, slipping through your fingers like sand. She chooses silence—a withdrawal that echoes louder than any spoken words. And you tried. Oh, how you tried to get her to speak—the silent symphony of longing, the unspoken words that hung in the air like dew-kissed spider silk. Your gaze, a language of its own, whispered secrets that transcended mere sentences. But she? She met your offerings with silence—a void that echoed louder than any spoken syllable. She stopped coming over. The threshold of your space became a chasm, a bridge severed by unspoken truths. The door, once a portal to laughter and whispered confidences, now stood closed. The only ever time you got to see her, to give yourself the inner peace of her being okay, was on the weekly parol meetings. She attended, her presence a fragile thread connecting you both. But she mastered the art of departure—slipping away before your eyes could catch hers. The opposite direction became her refuge, a path untrodden by your footsteps.
Talking wasn't what Ellie needed. You sensed it, that unspoken ache in the air—the need for silence, for space. So you stepped back, honoring the boundaries she drew around her heart. But your longing couldnt be unoticed by you any longer so after three weeks, you started writing to her. Youre desperation spilled over, ink bleeding onto paper. You became a clandestine messenger, slipping perfumed notes into the small slit of her mailbox. Each letter carried a piece of your soul—a plea, a confession, a desperate whisper. It lingered on your fingertips, a bridge between worlds. And as you pressed those letters into the darkness, you imagined her fingers brushing against them. Would she feel the urgency? Would she hear your silent screams for her friendship? Handwritten letters—those delicate vessels of ink and paper—weave memories that transcend mere words. Each stroke of the pen, each carefully crafted sentence, carries a piece of the you in them. The intimacy lies not only in the content but also in the act of creation itself. You decided to write her if shes unable to talk, you wanted to give her the space she needed, you tried to be as understanding as you could. But one unanswered letter turned into two, three, four. You stopped putting them into her mailbox after five.
Now, you're trying to ignore the pain in your heart every time you wake up. Ellie's childish behavior hasn't stopped you from living your life. Instead, you channel your anger and sleepless nights into your work, making each patrol count. Working alongside Jesse has become a bright spot—a fun experience you eagerly anticipate. It's not the same as those moments outside the gates with Ellie, but it's different in a way that doesn't breed resentment.
You and Jesse share a closeness that predates his separation from Dina. The heartbreak they both faced has left its mark, and you find solace in each other's company. Jesse isn't thrilled about the situation either—the breakup and lingering jealousy still gnaw at him. On that second day of patrol together, he broaches the awkward topic between you and Ellie. "So, you gonna tell me what happened or not?" Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the abandoned checkpoint. He pulled a sandwich from his backpack, the crinkling of the wrapper echoing in the dim light. The two of you sat there, weary from the day's patrol, the weight of your assigned route still clinging to your bones. Nightfall had descended too swiftly, and the dangers of this post-apocalyptic world made it impossible to venture home safely after dark. You shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, the rough edges of the old checkpoint digging into your back. The makeshift campsite was a stark reminder of the life you now led—constantly on the move, always vigilant. Jesse's eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer.
"Don't really know what's there to say, to be honest," you replied, your fingers tracing the edges of the food you'd prepared hours ago. The silence now haning between the two of you wasnt uncomftable,punctuated by the distant howl of a lone infected. "Maybe explain why we're now patrol partners? I thought you and Ellie made such a good team. Not that I'm complaining, though—we're badass too. Just wondering why you suddenly decided that Ellie wasn't good enough anymore," Jesse's voice cut through the dimly lit space of the makeshift camp. He lay down on the sleeping bag, using his right arm as a makeshift pillow, his gaze fixed on you. The flicker of confusion danced through the forest of your mind as you replayed Jesse's last words.
"What? I didn't decide that," you replied, studying your friend's posture as he took a bite of his cheese sandwich. "I asked Dina what happened earlier today." Jesse mumbled, his mouth still half full. "Ellie told her it was you who decided to change partners. Don't get me wrong—I feel honored to be your new partner in crime. I was just curious about what happened." - ''the fuck?'' You said more to yourself than him. ''Thats so fucked up..'' -"Okay, c'mon, I need the drama. Please explain to me like everything. Consider me one of your gossip girls," Jesse quipped, his unseriousness bringing a smile to your face. You took another bite of your food, savoring the dry bread as you gathered your thoughts. Trusting Jesse, you decided it wasn't a bad idea to share what had transpired between you and Ellie. So, with a deep breath, you began recounting the events of your last patrol with her. Jesse leans in, eyes wide with curiosity. His sandwich forgotten, he hangs on every word as you recount the events of that fateful patrol with Ellie. The tension, the unspoken words, the ache in your chest—it all spills out, painting a vivid picture of the fractured bond between you and the girl who once felt like your world.
"Damn," Jesse mutters, running a hand through his hair. "That's heavy stuff." His gaze lingers on your face, searching for answers. "You think she'll come around?'' You shrug, the weight of uncertainty settling on your shoulders. ''Dont think so, I think she regrets even kissing me. She has dina now, dont think that she'll need me anymore.'' Your gaze drifts down to your wrist, where the matching bracelet still clings—a fragile thread connecting you to Ellie. You wonder if she wears hers. Jesse, now leading forward, nudges your shoulder playfully. "Well, partner," he says, "we'll keep kicking ass out here. Fuck them both".
After that night, you felt like Jesse and you were attached at the hip. Somehow, you both helped each other navigate the jagged terrain of heartbreak, spending time together and letting the hours slip away. Being friends with Jesse had its perks. He acted as a bridge to Ellie, still maintaining a sort of friendship with Dina, getting slim updates from her. Through Jesse, you received updates about Ellie—whether she was safe, whether she'd eaten enough.
But it wasn't the same. Those impersonal updates couldn't replace the warmth of setting eyes on Ellie, hearing her voice—the cadence of her laughter, the way she'd say your name. You missed the little things, the mundane details that had once woven your lives together. But over the time you started to accept the turn of events, knowing you cannot force Friendship on somebody.
You started to distract yourself outside of work, whether it was with Jesse or... Sophia. After that encounter where Maria broke the news to you about Ellie changing everything, you did the only thing you knew you were really good at: You ran off.
Weirdly enough, two weeks after that pivotal moment and your patrols with Jesse as your new partner, a knock on your door interrupted your vegetable-cutting session in the small kitchen. As you walked toward the door, a million possibilities raced through your mind. Was it Ellie, knocking on the wood on a late rainy afternoon? Or perhaps Jesse, wanting to talk? Dina? Or maybe Joel, coming all the way to the comfort of your four walls to deliver news about his beloved Ellie being hurt.
Secretly, you wished it was Ellie. So you ran a hand through your hair, glancing into the small mirror hanging near the door to check yourself out before opening the squeaky wood. But on the other side stood Sophia, holding a plate covered in aluminum foil. "Uhm... hey," she said, her cheeks flushed with red. "I've made some cake—way too much to eat all by myself. I wanted to share it. If, um, you want to, of course. It's chocolate cake." Her words tumbled out in a rush, and you sensed her nervousness. A Small smile spread across your face as you stepped aside, making space for her to enter the house. "That's too kind," you replied. "You've got impeccable timing. I just finished dinner—perfect time for dessert. Come inside." You didn't mention the comforting fact that her house was all the way across town, meaning she'd walked quite a distance just to bring you cake. Nor did you acknowledge that it was common knowledge that Sophia is allergic to Chocolate but it was your favorite.
One hour with Sophia turned into two, and before you knew it, the entire afternoon was filled with your laughter. She ended up staying over, making your house feel less empty. Since Dylan's passing, sleep had eluded you. Without Ellie by your side, it felt impossible to quiet your mind. Sophia changed that somewhat, but it didn't feel the same. Perhaps your own mind betrayed you, clouding your thoughts about her presence. You didn't want her to leave, yet you didn't necessarily want her to stay either. The universe seemed to decide for you, as the strawberry-blonde girl drifted off to sleep on your sofa after what felt like an eternity of talking.
You settled into your gray armchair, gently covering her thin body with your favorite blanket—the same one Ellie used to take whenever she stayed over. The entire night, you found yourself comparing Sophia to Ellie—the way she moved, the cadence of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about her interests. It wasn't a good thing, you must admit. Sophia is a nice girl, but you never really considered her a potential friend, especially since you both shared your first kisses with each other. After that, things got weird, and you both grew up, walking different paths.
Yet now, here she was—baking you cakes, making you laugh, and filling the void left by Ellie. The universe had a funny way of intertwining lives, even when hearts were tangled in memories and unanswered letters. Having someone else in Ellie's place is like trying to fit a puzzle piece into a space that was uniquely shaped for her. It's both comforting and disorienting—a blend of familiarity and foreignness. Her presence brings warmth, but it's a different kind—the soft glow of candlelight instead of the blazing fire that Ellie ignited.Sophia's touch is gentle, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. But it lacks the electric charge—the pulse of longing—that Ellie's touch carried. You wonder if Sophia noticed the way you hesitated, the way your heart stumbles when she leans in too close.
The day with Sophia didnt end there, it stretched into a comfortable rhythm, covering the next two days of your life —a dance of shared meals, laughter, and quiet moments. Her presence filled the spaces that Ellie had once occupied, and you found yourself not minding it at all. The awkwardness of those initial conversations melted away as you both peeled back layers, revealing stories and dreams that wove your lives together.
But life has a way of interrupting even the most harmonious melodies. Jesse, with his uninvited pizza and the entire Twilight saga in tow, barged into your living room. You tried to politely decline the teen romance marathon—you'd seen it one too many times—but Jesse, being Jesse, brushed off your protests. His eyes widened when he saw Sophia sitting there, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. You knew he'd milk this moment, teasing you about having a cute girl over at your house.
After Jesse left, well, pratically run out, you settled back onto the sofa next to Sophia. "That was... Jesse, right?" she asked, her fingers playing with her curly hair. You leaned against the soft material of the sofa, nodding. "Uhm, yup." Sophia's gaze lingered on you, and you sensed her curiosity. "You two do spend a lot of time together—even after patrols," she observed."Oh? You noticed that? Stalking me, huh?" you teased, making Sophia blush. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. "Well," she replied, her voice soft, "you just always catch my eye." And then, without warning, her body shifted closer. Her hands found their place on either side of your waist, and her lips met yours—a sweetness that tasted like possibility. You hated yourself for it, truly. Because here was a girl with good intentions, almost on top of you, and your mind couldn't help but wish it was Ellie.
Another two months slip through your fingers, ephemeral as morning mist. Life, once heavy with the ache of Ellie's absence, begins to lift itself up. Sophia becomes a constant presence—a sunbeam that warms the corners of your heart as you allow yourself. Your growing relationship with Sophia blossoms, and you find comfort in her laughter, her touch, and the shared moments that weave your lives together. The unspoken question lingers: Are you allowed to call her your girlfriend? After all, you've shared more than just cake and conversations. Perhaps labels matter less than the way she looks at you, the way her fingers intertwine with yours.
And then there's Jesse—the steadfast friend who bridges the gap between patrols and pizza nights. His teasing about Sophia doesn't go unnoticed, but he's also the one who brings laughter into your home. Everything else remains unchanged—the memories, the unanswered letters, and the quiet longing. Life moves forward, and you find solace in the delicate balance of old and new. Patrol was as good as it could be, once you and Jesse found a way to connect your abilities, it didnt really feel like work anymore.
"Yo, little one," Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the stables, interrupting your grooming session with Lacy. You turned to meet his gaze, immediately noticing his patrol clothes—fitting perfectly against his frame. "What the hell are you doing? We have the day off, remember?" you asked, your fingers still caressing Lacy's mane.
"Not anymore," Jesse replied, already opening the door to his horse's stable. "Dina apparently has the flu, and they both forgot to sign in at the station outside. Maria asked me to take their route for today and look for anything weird." He led his dark brown horse out of the stable, determination etched on his face.
"Good luck with that," you said, turning back to continue your work. But Jesse wasn't done. "Nuh huh, lover girl. You're joining me," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Pardon?" You looked at him, confusion knitting your brows. "Don't hit me with Spanish,"- ''Its french'' Jesse chuckled. "well whatever it was,I don't speak it. Come on now, get ready. We don't have all day." He saddled his horse efficiently, his movements practiced. "Why should I? You said yes, not me," you replied stubbornly, even though you gathered all the essentials needed to prepare Lacy. "Well, because I'm your partner in crime? Your work husband? Love of your patrol life?" Jesse grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. "And because I'll get bored alone. You don't have anything better to do anyway." - ''Rude?! maybe i had things planned?!'' You said, jokingly offended as you grab your stuff ''You can meet sophia and have all of those important 'converstations'' he made weird kissing noises ''later.'' He finished his sentance, making you laugh ''Well first of all I-'' You got interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You looked into the direction of the noise and saw the last person you wanted to see today. ''Sup, Ellie.'' Jesse said, leaning against the stable door. ''what can I do for you?'' He asked, eyes stuck on ellie. But her gaze lied elsewhere; On you.
You shivered under her gaze, your heart racing. As you looked into Ellie's eyes—the first time in forever—you sensed something there, something you couldn't quite put into words. Her burning gaze finally shifted from you to Jesse, arms crossed at her chest.
"Earlier, when me and Dina were at the station, I lost my journal," Ellie said, her voice close, intimate. "Can you look for it? Kinda really need it back." Her words echoed through the stable, and suddenly, the air felt too thin. Your knees wobbled, memories of Ellie cascading down the memory bridge, crashing into your stomach. You felt like you might throw up. "Sure, we will look for it. Anything else?" Jesse asked, glancing between the two of you. Ellie's eyes traveled back to you, and silent hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe this was the moment—maybe Ellie would finally have the guts to talk to you directly, to say she's sorry. But as her gaze wavered, you felt the familiar pang of disappointment. Once again, Ellie remained silent.You felt a strong hand on your shoulder, silently offering support. Jesse's familiar scent enveloped you. "Thought so," he said, ending the conversation. Ellie nodded and turned away, leaving the two of you alone. The barn was filled with silence until you spoke with a shaky voice. "Okay, let's just go." And so you did—you and Jesse left for patrol. But with every passing second, the memory of that confrontation lingered, and you realized how much you still craved her.
"Jesus, I hate this path," Jesse grumbled, pushing open the old, creaky door to the station. His face turned red from the effort, and you couldn't help but giggle. "Stop crying like a baby. Let's sign in and leave," you said, walking toward the desk on the opposite side of the room. As you approached, you noticed that a pen was missing. Without it, you obviously couldn't sign in.
"Jesse, there's no pen," you called out, looking at your friend. "Really? Look under the table or something. We'll find one," he replied. You followed his suggestion, getting down on your knees. Spiderwebs greeted you, along with the encroaching dusk. You pulled out your flashlight, shining it underneath the table for a better look. And there it was—an old, leather-covered book. You'd recognize that book spine anywhere, even in the grandest libraries.
You picked it up, wiping away the dust that clung to its material. The thickness of the journal reminded you of what you were holding—a door to Ellie Williams' secrets and mindful thoughts. "Found one!" Jesse's voice snapped you out of your reverie. You turned around, hiding the journal behind your back. Jesse joined you, writing your names on the slim paper of the checklist. ‘Partner in crimes ( Jesse and y/n)’
"Did you find anything? The book, I mean. It's not somewhere I looked," Jesse asked. You shook your head, slipping the journal into your bag without it being noticed. "Nope, didn't find it either."
''Every poem I ever wrote was about her. That smile of hers, those golden eyes—whenever she's too close to the sun, it's impossible for me to stay away. The day I left, my heart shattered into a million pieces. In my head, inside my perfect self-made world, she never left me. All my thoughts revolve around her—the memories etched into my mind. Her touch, so soft—I never wanted to let go. The scent of her clothes, stealing my breath away. The nights we spent dreaming together, the minutes I never want to regret. I never dared to imagine a lifetime without her. Yet here I am, writing these words with a hole in my chest. I'm bleeding out, the wind kissing my mind, refreshing memories of letting go. The silence surrounds me, a reminder to hold on.
I search the past for redemption, but it eludes me. The only thing left of me are broken pieces of her.”
The words were carefully etched onto the paper, making it hard for you to breathe. You hadn't intended to overstep her privacy—why had you taken that journal in the first place? You dont know. But here you were, sitting with the book in hand, the only light in the living room emanating from the countless candles you'd lit.
The journal looked thicker than usual, and that's what caught your attention first. You knew that book well, even though you'd never seen what she put inside—except for her drawings of animals, Joel, Dina, and you. She'd never shown anyone what she wrote between the pages.
The reason you'd decided to open the book, against all your inner morals, was the fact that as you carefully pulled it out of your bag—treating it like fragile glass—multiple letters fell out. You noticed them right away. They were yours—carefully written letters she'd never dared to answer. The envelopes ripped open showed you she defenetly read them all. You dont know how to feel about that yet. Relieved that she cared enough to read them? Happy becasue she carried your letters with her, doesnt matter where shed go? Or mad, because she never replied? You know nothing. The only thing you're able to do now is bury yourself in the book, reading what Ellie never dared to say out loud.
''Ive been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, Could've followed my fears all the way down. And maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway. I just wanted you to know that this is me trying''
The words cut deeper than a knife,
before you knew it, your eyes traveled to the next phrases, crossed out, you could barely read them:
"It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.
Seeing you with Sophie burns me from inside out.
Why are you with her?
I know I don't own you, perhaps I never will,
so the anger inside of me when I see you with her
is something I'm not allowed to feel.
What I feel, I shouldn't show you.
So when you're around, I don't.
I let you walk away with her.
I know I don't have the right to feel it,
but it doesn't mean I don't."
The rest of the book was empty, besides some skteches of eyes that look dangerously like yours. You swallowed hard, not really sure of what you should feel. You re-read the sentences out loud, letting the bittersweet aftertaste of them making you feel alive. Your heart has been Ellies since the first time you both laughed together; yet you were so sure of the fact that she would never feel the same. Considering the words in the journal, maybe it wasnt one sided after all. Youre confused, being with Sophia was easy, comftable. But with ellie, it was different. better. You miss the butterflies in your stomach, miss her touch and her closeness. The rollercoster was everything you ever had, after all.
Two days of full selfishness carried its weight, and you continued to keep the journal. The guilt crept in, stealthy as shadows, finding you at night, when the world slept and your thoughts roamed free. Those written pages from Ellie, inked with longing and crossed-out confessions, haunted your mind. You tried your best to hide the pain, a fragile masquerade. Distancing yourself from Sophia and Jesse, you walked the tightrope of deception. It wasn't deliberate; it was survival. The what-could've-been danced like a ghost, whispering secrets in your ear. You wondered if Ellie's heart echoed the same unspoken words.
Sophia, her presence a comforting harbor, yet her touch felt like borrowed warmth. And Jesse, his eyes— The guilt gnawed at you, a relentless hunger. You held Sophia too close, fearing Ellie's phantom gaze. You looked into Jesse's eyes, and the lie about keeping the Journal tasted bitter on your tongue. Ellie, elusive as a wisp of smoke. The barn encounter—the air thick with unspoken truths—left you breathless. You havent seen her since. You called in sick for the patrol meeting, a desperate escape from the inevitable. The fear of facing her again, of unraveling the fragile equilibrium, gripped your heart.
In the quiet of your room, the journal lay open. The crossed-out phrases, the sketches of eyes—they were your silent companions.
——————————————————-
"Okay, Miss being all sad and distant, I'm not having this anymore. Tell me what's going on right now or I'm killing you," Jesse declared, pressing past you as you opened the door. His urgency hung in the air, a storm brewing behind his eyes.
"Jesus, very aggressive today, aren't we?" you quipped, trailing after your friend into the living room. The door closed behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of tension. You sank into the couch, and Jesse settled next to you, his gaze drilling holes into your soul."Therapy session. Now. What's going on?" His hands clasped together, a makeshift gavel. The room felt smaller, suffocating. You glanced at the coffee table, considering the whiskey bottle, but thought better of it. "Nothing? Do you want to drink anything... or?" Your voice played innocent, a fragile mask. Jesse wasn't fooled. "The jury says stop trying to change the subject." His tone held a mix of exasperation and concern."The jury...?" You grinned, despite the weight in your chest. "Yeah, me." Jesse's eyes softened, and you chuckled. "It's nothing, really.“
"You're completely distant," he said, his voice calm. "Even Sophia asked me if I have any idea what's going on." The truth hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap.
"I don't know... it's, urgh, weird." You fidgeted with the edge of a cushion. Jesse leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Tell me!" His insistence bordered on desperation
"Okay, but promise me not to hate me?" You gave him a side-eye, afraid of meeting his gaze head-on. "Could never hate you," he replied, and the words carried weight. So you spilled it—the secret you'd harbored, the journal you'd found.
Ellie's words, inked and crossed out, danced in your memory. You didn't reveal the exact phrasing, but you shared the confusion—the way her emotions bled through the pages. Jesse listened, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he saw the echoes of your own heartache.
In that quiet room, the truth hung heavy. You'd kept Ellie's words hidden, but now they spilled forth. Jesse's hand found yours, and you clung to it, hoping for absolution. "It's Ellie," you whispered. "It's always been Ellie." His silence spoke volumes, eyes carrying the weight of unspoken understanding. He'd always sensed your feelings for Ellie, perhaps even before you did. It wasn't a secret to anyone but her—the way your heart gravitated toward her, like a moth drawn to a flame. “You guys need to talk.” Jesse said.
"I can't," you whispered, the words fragile on your tongue. The weight of unspoken truths pressed against your chest, threatening to spill forth."And why the fuck not? What do you have to lose?" Jesse's voice held a mix of frustration and concern. He saw through your defenses, stripped away the layers you'd carefully woven. Ellie—the enigma, the ache—loomed between you like a shadow."Afraid of losing her? I think you already archived that." His bluntness cut through your heart. You knew it too well—the missed chances, the crossed-out phrases, the silence that echoed louder than words. Jesse could see the pain in you and the bluntless paired with that slight tinge of what appeared to be anger slowly disappeared into thin air, much like the smoke of a lit cigarette blown into the night sky.
"Look" he begins, sighing while he considers the phrasing of this. He means no harm, but being too gentle could erase the importance of the situation "I want to help you, but you cannot hide yourself away. If you truly want this girl, you need to be able to put in the effort. Dina and Ellie arent dating either, dina told me herself that the two of them thought there was something but ended up with nothing. Be honest with yourself, but also with everyone else" You exhale deeply, relief floods your system despite the heavy heart still pounding against your chest.
Jesse is the kind of friend you can never let go. He's just that important.
Between the soft tunes of comfortingly familiar songs and a few shed tears, the two of you scheme together... Creating a, hopefully, foolproof plan on how to finally approach the elephant in the room. Ellie and you; it wasn't over, was it?
#ellie tlou#ellie williams#joel and ellie#the last of us#ellie the last of us#tlou#tlou2#joel miller#joel tlou#ellie#writing#tlou fanfiction#ellie fanfic#ellie fic#ellie williams angst#elliexreader#ellie x fem reader#f reader#ellie x you#ellie x reader#jesse tlou#Jesse#jesse the last of us#dina and ellie#dina tlou#joel the last of us#thelastofus#tlou part 2#tlou game
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Surprise Bag 2024 Story (Prologue)
The April Fool's story from 2024. This is only the prologue, as the continuations are sold as story sales that I will not be purchasing. I do still think it is very funny, though.
The premise is a bodyswap, Ellis <> Jude and Elbert <> Alfons
Ever since I became a Fairytale Keeper, I like to think that my tolerance for the extraordinary has increased.
However, this latest happening in Crown far surpassed anything I had ever experienced.
"Jude": Good morning, Miss Kate. I'll make you happy today too.
Kate: ...Jude, did you... hit your head on something?
"Jude": Hm? Nope, I'm perfectly fine. Haven't hit my head on anything.
Kate: What happened to your usual terrible attitude?! Did you catch a cold? Are you injured? We have to go to the hospital now--
"Ellis": Tch, the hell is this?
"Jude": Ah, Jude.
"Jude": Huh? Jude, why are you me?
"Ellis": I should be the one asking. Why the hell are you me?
Kate: Wha? Huh??
"Elbert": Ahha! Something terribly amusing seems to have happened, hasn't it?
Kate: Alf- Eh, Lord Elbert?
Kate: Wait, so then is that 'Alfons' standing behind you...?
"Alfons": ...When I looked in the mirror, I became Al.
"Elbert": Being able to look at oneself from the point of view of an outsider truly is fascinating.
"Elbert": Oh yes, El. Do speak more energetically. It's unsettling to hear myeslf sound so glum.
"Alfons": ...More energetically? ...I'll, try...
"Alfons": ........Ahha.
"Elbert": I suppose that's my mistake for asking you to be more energetic.
Kate: Wait, just hold on a second. So what's happened is...
Kate: ...Jude and Ellis, and then Lord Elbert and Alfons have swapped bodies!?
Kate: What kind of ridiculous situation is this...!?
"Ellis": It's that goddamn doctor bastard's fault. I'll kill him.
---
Gathering the remainder of Crown, we questioned Roger about the circumstances. He let out an unrestrained laugh.
Roger: My bad, my bad. Who'd ever think that the results would pay off this quickly? Aren't I a genius?
Victor: Now's not the time, Roger! What did you do to cause this adorable- excuse me, very troubling situation?
Liam: Victor, you're not hiding your true feelings very well. Your words and face don't match at all.
Roger: I had the thought of swapping a cursed person with a normal person. That could lead to the curse transferring, couldn't it? So I was doing some research.
William: Your unquenchable thirst for knowledge is admirable indeed. But if that were the case, shouldn't you be experimenting with a cursed person and a normal human?
Roger: It'd be pretty dangerous for us if something went wrong while I was experimenting on a normal person, wouldn't it? I thought I'd test things out on these guys first.
Harrison: Just what do you think we are? We die just as easy as normal people, you know.
"Elbert": Let's toss that musclehead four-eyes into the Thames.
"Ellis": Yeah. Fix some stone weights to him and it'll be over quick.
Kate: Stop, stop! Don't say things like that wearing Elbert and Ellis's faces!
"Jude": But that's pretty amazing, Roger. I never thought that medicine like this could exist.
Liam: ...Jude being all soft is- nope, that's just weird!
Roger: Don't worry so much. Once I've collected enough data from you lot, I'll whip up an antidote.
Roger: ........Once I've got an antidote, I can start testing on the others.
Harrison: ...You just said something awful, didn't you?
Roger: Don't know what you're talking about.
"Elbert": You're acting like you're in any position to bargain about turning us back? Pardon my French, but go die.
Harrison: Yikes... Uh, Liam? Hey, Liam, hey. Did he fall asleep?
"Jude": Sorry, I touched his head. I was curious about whether I could use Jude's power or not.
Roger: Huh, so the ability stays with the body. I really am a genius after all, aren't I?
(This isn't helping anymore...!)
Kate: A-anyway! Please make that antidote as soon as possible, Roger!
Kate: ...Geez. What are we going to do if Her Majesty hears about this?
Roger: Well, I might end up getting fired...
Roger: ...So it's up to you to watch over the lot of them to make sure nobody else finds out about this, little lady.
Kate: Huh? ...Roger? Wait!
"Ellis": Tch... Fuck it. Let him get kicked out.
"Jude": Ah, Jude, my body isn't used to--
"Ellis": *cough, cough*... Ellis. First thing we're doing is to start training so you can at least handle one cigar.
"Elbert": Hmm... with a face like this, I could get away with doing pretty much anything, don't you think?
"Alfons": ...Kate, is this spoon beautiful?
Kate: M-my poor sanity...!
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Something About Her. Steve Harrington x Reader
Something About her.
I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT
Summary: Steve is kind of obsessed with you, and you're kind of obsessed with him. Only ever watching from afar until a fight breaks out at the party you're both at.
18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.
Warnings: fem!reader, physical altercation, reader gets backhanded by homophobic male character, brief mention of blood, forehead gets slightly cut, reader has a vagina, sex but not sex? No penetrative sex, fingering, Steve is called a f***** and a queer in a derogatory sense by a homophobic character at the party. (I will star it out anyway just incase any of you are uncomfortable with that) (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)
AN: Real quick, I don't condone using homophobic slurs towards anyone ever. This is not ME saying these things, it is a CHARACTER in the 80's saying those things. I myself am Queer so... ya know... I get it.
NOT REALLY PROOF READ FOR MISTAKES JUST FOR THE VIBES
(Huge thank you to my bby @rowanswriting for giving this a read through for me to make sure it wasn’t absolute garbage! love u <3)
Wordcount: 4k
Steve doesn't know when his fascination with you started, but he knows that once it did start he couldn't stop it. Anytime he was out at a party he was always looking for you. Subtly over the rim of his red cup, filled with whatever concoction that would get him buzzed the quickest. Personally he doesn't think it's stalking, because he doesn't follow you around any other time, but when he knows you're around, he's going to keep an eye out for you. Robin on the other hand, definitely thinks it's stalking and will make it a point to tease Steve about it whenever she can.
He's only talked to you a couple of times and the two of you wouldn't even consider each other friends but for some reason he always had to have an eye on you, and you always had an eye on him.
Robin would constantly poke into his side and whispering about his "obsession" with you but he would just push her off and roll his eyes. Because someone as pretty as you would never look at him the same way. You were ethereal; Steve might actually believe it if you were from another world, considering he's had his fair share of experience of things that you'd think didn't exist.
He knows you watch him too. Praying you don't think it's weird for catching your eye one too many times, but being constantly enamoured by the way you move and speak, how you captivate everyone around you yet you're completely unaware of it.
Robin decides that after watching the two of you eye fuck each other six more times that she's going to help. She skips over to you and you greet her with one of the brightest smiles he's ever seen. The two of you talking together has four hands flying around with the dramatics of whatever story it is the pair of you have begun discussing and he's honestly surprised neither of you have hit one another in the face.
Steve still, stands with his back plastered against the wall, trying to ignore the dull thumping bass of whatever shitty music was playing, focusing hard on the way your lips moved, trying to get any sense at what you were saying. It takes him a minute to realize it's Robin you're talking to and he's more confused, zoning in on the way your tongue darts out to lick across your strawberry pink lips when he's interrupted from his thoughts by some beefy drunk, boy from high school trying to relive his glory days as he stumbles past him.
He looks at Steve, looks at robin, and then back to Steve. He snickers "Damn Harrington, can't even get Robin to stick around with you? Maybe you are as queer as she is" he sways as he passes Robin and you. Robin freezes, before slowly looking back to Steve, praying tonight wasn't going to end with Steve beating someone up. Again.
"Hey" Steves voice is loud, angry, startling almost everyone, despite how loud the music was.
"Say what you want about me, but don't say shit about Robin alright?" Steve warns.
The drunken asshole makes his attempt to saunter up to Steve, getting far too close to his face before speaking "Or what pretty boy? Gunna get your boyfriend to come save you?"
Steve can feel the hot air of his breath in his face, it reeks so badly of alcohol it almost smells like hand sanitizer. "Get lost man" Steve says shaking his head turning away from him, trying to distract himself from the prying eyes by above everyones heads, sipping his drink.
What Steve doesn't notice is how ridged you've become and how hard your fists are shaking where they are clenched at your sides.
He laughs, thinking he's won whatever show it is he's putting on for everyone and goes to leave before turning back to Steve. "F****t can't fight his own battles, what a pussy"
Before Steve can even fully turn around you've pushed past robin and are standing in front of the drunk, arm pulled back before your tiny fist makes contact with the dudes face. "What's your problem!" You yell. Steve has never heard your voice so loud before. "You homophobic piece of shit? What decade were you born in saying shit like that?" Your hand hurts, like really bad, but you're too prideful to let him see you cry. No one is going to say shit like that about anyone around you, let alone Robin, or Steve.
"Fucking bitch" he spits, blood filled saliva hitting the white tiled floor beneath your feet. His hand raises quick, and without a second thought he lands a single smack across your face with the back of his hand, and then walks away. You involuntary gasp at the impact, while the rest of the party goers shout and follow him but you can barely hear over the ringing in your ears, but you hope they beat the shit out of him outside. You feel a drip of blood form and start to slide down your face from where his large class ring made contact with the skin just above your eyebrow. Your hand trembles as it reaches up to touch the warm liquid before bringing your hand down to see your blood covered finger tips.
When you look up, blurry faces stand around you, and they're all speaking at once, you're unsure where to look, or who to respond to when someone gently takes your hand, pulling you with them upstairs and away from the chaos below. Only when the click of the bathroom door locks do your senses start to come back and you realize you're standing in front of Steve Harrington and that tears had begun rolling down your cheeks.
At the same time you both blurt out "Are you okay?" and Steve laughs in amusement.
"Am I okay? I'm not the one who sucker punched someone twice her size and is bleeding from her head!" he exclaims. He laughs again before muttering an "Oh shit" Grabbing at the nearest hand towel and running it under the faucet. "Come here, sit" he says patting the countertop. You watch him with wide doe eyes, pupils blown from the adrenaline coursing through you, but still you listen, slowly and a little robotically you lean against the counter, Steves large hand holding the side of your waist to help as you hop up onto the counter. He's talking, but you don't really hear him so instead you focus on watching him as he moves around the bathroom, finding things to help with the tiny wound on your forehead.
He dabs the damp towel against your forehead quickly and abruptly. You wince and pull back, your two hands coming up to hold his wrist in place.
"I'm sorry, shit, are you okay? I should have warned you first"
"I'm sorry that guy said that" you say finally finding your voice, it's shaky and a little croaky but it's there.
"Don't be, I've heard worse" he smiles and you let go of his wrist signalling to him that he can continue and so he does. "S'not so bad of a cut, just bled a lot cause it's on your head"
You laugh a little, and the relief Steve feels when he hears it skyrockets. "You've got quite the arm on you, more guys like him should be afraid of you"
You laugh again. "I've had some practice" you shrug and sniffle, pretending to play it cool.
"Oh yeah? You beating up guys in the alleyways behind bars? Lemme see those guns" he pesters, lifting up the arm you used to throw your punch, and you flex it proudly. The muscle bulging and Steve gives it a squeeze.
He wolf whistles. "Wow-ee that's some A plus muscle right there" he teases but short circuits when you look up at him. Mascara smudged just under your eyes from where the tears overflowed, cheeks rosy with a blush or from the adrenaline, he can't tell but his hand comes up to hold the side of your face anyway and he does everything he can to hold himself together when he feels you lean into his touch.
"You're so pretty" he blurts, feeling the heat of your cheek under his palm when he says it.
"So are you" you whisper. You can feel the trembling starting to begin in your bones as the adrenaline wears off, your body finally attempting to come down from the earlier altercation. Steve notices at the first twitch of your shoulder.
"S-sorry" you stutter through your teeth as they begin to chatter along with the rest of your body.
"Stop apologizing for things you can't control" he says taking your hands and placing them on the sides of his waist. He doesn't mean for it to be forceful or sexual when he does it, but his one hand comes between your legs and pushes them apart by your knees, positioning himself between them. "Here, hug me, it'll help with the shakes" He pulls you into him and you're thankful for the tightness of his arms around around you. You sigh into him, feeling the slightest bit of tension leave your shoulders. Steve notices and slides one hand to the back of your neck, pushing in just slightly at the base, massaging it until he feels your shoulders start to slump.
The groan that leaves you was almost pornographic, and Steve has to calm himself down immediately or you might be able to feel how much that little noise had affected him. Steve tried really hard, he did, but he's standing between your legs and you're so close to him that he knows if he shifted just a little you'd feel his dick press into your stomach.
When the shaking starts to stop you lean back from him, head tilted up towards him but your eyes stay closed. Your hands still stationed on his hips, and Steve doesn't stop his fingers where they massage the base of your neck.
"That feels really good" you sigh, eyes flitting open lazily.
"Good" Steve says with a smile, his opposite hand coming up to push your hair back behind your ear. He watches as your eyebrows furrow slightly.
"What's wrong?"
"N-nothing" you lie. It's the adrenaline. It's like when you come down from a really big cry, and your body doesn't know what to do with all the feelings so it sends them between your legs, making everything in you ache for someone to touch you, for Steve to touch you. You shift on the counter, legs instinctively trying to close, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against the insides of your thighs, teasing you.
Steve can feel your heartbeat pick up from where his fingers are still pressed against your skin, and he's watching you with curious eyes. He can sense it, he knows, but he wont make a move unless you initiate it, anything, even if it's subtle. But you have to be the one to start it. With one too many run in's with the end of the world, Steve knows that sometimes when the adrenaline wears off the only thing you want to do is fuck.
"Is it your head?" He asks "Does it hurt?"
"It's not my head" you say as you shake it. "It hurts a little b-but I'm okay, really"
Steve hums, his pressing touch moving from your neck and you have to stop yourself from whimpering at the loss.
"Look at me" he says and you do, eyes darting back and forth between his. "I just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion" he widens his stance, sliding his feet outwards until he's just about your height from where you sit, his big warm hands come up and cup either sides of your face while he assess you.
A loud crash followed by laughter startles the two of you jump slightly. Your hands grip onto Steves waist harder and he's moved forward so now the two of you are pressed together, and he can see it in your face when his stubbornly hard dick makes contact with you.
"Steve?" you say quietly, and he's already preparing an apology in his head. "Um I know we don't really know each other" You swallow thickly. "But um" you trail off, glancing to your hands and where they rest, thumbs slipping past the hem of his shirt, touching the warm skin of his belly. He inhales sharply, and you look at him mesmerized.
"Are you sure you're not concussed?" he questions "Or did that guy really hit me instead and I'm unconscious having a wonderful dream right now?"
You giggle and his cock strains in his jeans.
"I don't wanna have sex with you though" you say quickly. "I mean now, right now, I definitely want to have sex with you, I just, not in a bathroom at a party? I wanted to- shit" You scrunch your eyes closed and take a breath before looking back at him. "I wanted to ask you on a date first"
"You wanted to ask me? Me on a date?" Steve says quietly.
You nod, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. So shy, yet so brave.
'I'm fucked' He thinks. 'I'm going to fall in love with her'
"C-can, we um, can we touch each other? Is that okay?" your hands hold him a little tighter and his stomach tenses.
"Y-yeah, please, can I kiss you?" he asks desperately and you nod, your hands finally reaching up to cup his face. He grabs you by the hips and slides you closer to the edge of the counter, your old converse hitched on the sides of his waist, pressed against his brown leather belt. Your crotch now pressed against his jean covered cock, and he realizes you've been wearing a dress the entire time he's been stood between your legs, and only now has caught a glance at the pretty pink panties you wear.
You whimper when he kisses you. His lips soft and plump just like you had thought they would be, and the tiny groan he lets out goes straight to your cunt and your hips jump ever so slightly. You kiss each other feverishly, sloppy and quick. Every kiss, every smack of your lips, every move of his tongue has your stomach flipping and your hips rolling into him. He's grinding into you without a single care, he could cum like this and wouldn't dare be embarrassed about it when you look like that under him. How could he not.
He does almost bust his load immediately when your hands go for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tugging at the button and zipper until it's all the way down. He breaks the kiss to watch you do it.
"Is this okay?" you ask, fingers dipped into the waistband of his boxers.
"You could do anything you want with me right now and I wouldn't care" He jokes. "So yes this is more than okay"
"Can you touch me too?" You ask with your baby Bambi eyes and god Steve nearly loses it. How can you ask him something so dirty but make it sound so sickly sweet.
"God, yeah, of course I can sweet thing" he says sliding his hands up your thighs until he's under the hem of your red dress, it's covered in dainty little white flowers, and he thinks it looks perfect on you. He searches for the band of your panties before tugging at them until you shift, letting him slide them out from under you until they're dangling off your right ankle that is still stationed on his hip.
His fingers slide easily through your slick and he groans. "Fucking christ"
You giggle again, sighing when he grazes your clit and your knees instinctively try to lock together.
"It's taking everything in me not to bury my face in your cunt right now Jesus Christ, look at her" he praises, watching his shiny fingers and the way they move against you, the way your hips twitch to meet them.
"Her?" you ask.
"Your pussy babe" he says obviously.
Your entire body engulfs in heat, and you can't tell if you're embarrassed that he's talking about your pussy like it's a person, or if it's turning you on even more.
"O-Oh my god" you say, your words slipping into a moan mixed with a gasp. Head tilting back until it hits the mirror behind you.
"Jesus baby, let's keep your head intact alright?" he jokes, pulling you into him with one hand, placing it protectively on the back of your head as you bury your face into the crook of his neck while his finger traces your entrance. Your brain buzzes with electricity and you forget that just seconds before you were tugging at Steves jeans, but then he touched you.
He circles your hole a few times, before easily sliding one of his fingers into you. You whine, open mouth, almost drooling where your mouth hovers against Steves skin. He leans back slightly, chin touching his chest to catch a glimpse at you to make sure the noise he heard come out of you wasn't a sob. But the thought of you crying because of his fingers? He can't imagine what it would be like to have you and your pussy crying on his cock.
"Feel good?" He teases.
"So good" You moan, lifting your head from his neck, staring down to watch his finger curl into you. Forcing yourself to look away to continue your attention to his jeans. Hands shaky has they slip his belt through the loops, pulling at the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down. You try your best to push his pants down enough to get your hand in so you can finally feel his cock but he's distracting.
"F-fuck" you mewl, and it's high pitch and girly, and if you were alone you'd cringe at the sound.
"Need some help?" Steve offers, stopping his movements and slowly removing his fingers from you, shiny and slick as he helps you to free his aching cock.
"Thank you" you whisper. Once his cock is free you wrap your hand around him, thick, hot and heavy in your palm and he groans, tilting his head back a little before reaching a hand up to tap your cheek, ripping your gaze away from your hand to his eyes.
"Open" hes looking down at you through his lashes, cheeks flushed a perfect pink and his chest moves quickly while you continue to jerk him off. You listen, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out and Steve huffs out a laugh as he slowly slides his two fingers into your mouth. The ones that were just buried in your cunt. You lap at them greedily, body buzzing from the approval when Steves hums in delight, head tiling to watch your mouth.
You pull his fingers from your mouth with gasp. "I have an idea"
Steve raises a brow as you push forward until you slide off of the counter, turning around so your ass is how facing him, both of you looking at each other through the reflection of the mirror. Watching you as you lean your hips against the counter, pulling him towards you by his belt until he's almost touching you. Reaching behind you, you take his cock into your hand, stepping onto your tippy toes until its slid between your thighs, pressed against your leaking pussy.
"Fucking without fucking" you say with a smile. Your hand presses lightly against him so the tip of his cock stays connected to you while Steve moves his hips.
Sliding through your folds over and over as he mimics how he'd snap his hips against you if he were able to fuck you properly. It's probably the hottest things Steve has ever done with anyone, and he knows that he will think about this every single day until the day he dies, and he's absolutely content with that.
His hands move to your hips, where he grips you tightly. Your dress sliding up with each thrust until the swell of your ass is exposed before him. Rippling with each thrust against his lower half, and he tries to stop himself, he does, but he can't. He lets his palm come down on your right cheek, a little harsh, and goes to apologize but the way your knees shake, and the moan that slips out from you tells him you liked it.
"M'so c-close Steve" you force out. Your cheek is pressed against the cold marble top of the counter, and you're pretty sure you're drooling onto it but you couldn't care less with how good Steve is making you feel. "Steve I-" You can barely keep your legs up, but your trying.
"Help" you whimper, and Steve knows what you need immediately. Wrapping a large arm around your waist, holding up most of your weight while still snapping his hips.
"I got ya pretty girl" he mumbles into the skin of your shoulder.
"Are you gunna cum Stevie?" You moan, silently begging he's as close as you are.
"So close" he grunts. "Wanna see that face of yours when you cum, can you do that for me?" He asks sliding his hand into your hair until he's got a tight grip on the roots, tugging gently to instruct you to lift your head up. He doesn't want to be too rough with you just yet, not when you haven't properly been able to have that conversation.
Lifting your head with his direction until you're forced to look at yourself and Steve in the mirror. He looks so pretty, face flushed, mouth slightly agape, his bottom lip slick with saliva. You could cry at how pretty he was.
"Steve, Steve, st-eve, I'm gun-NAH!" you cum hard, all over your hand and his cock. Thighs trembling.
"Fuck you're so hot" Steve mutters. "Gunna cum sweetheart where do-"
"On me, please I want it on me" You say almost frantically. Steve turns your around, helping you sit back up onto the counter so your legs are spread and he's stationed between them. Pumping his cock fast, the noise crude as it echos around the bathroom, slick with your arousal.
"Fuck, fuck baby" Steve says through gritted teeth.
And you're smiling, and nodding, eyes glassed over and so fucked out, and he thinks he might marry you seeing the way you want him, and his cum so badly. He loses it when your hand joins his around him with those final few pumps, and his cum shoots across your stomach dripping down your connected hands to the base of his cock.
He's panting and smiling, and trying to hold back a laugh, watching the way his cum drips down your body, down between the crease where your thigh meets hip, lazily flowing down to join the mess between your legs.
You giggle, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you wait till Steve finally looks up at you.
"You're insane" he laughs, grabbing your face with both hands and kisses you quick.
"Only a little" you say between kisses. "Take me home?" you ask bravely.
"Anywhere" Steve says quickly. he tugs his jeans back up, stuffing himself back into his pants, and adjusts his belt. You hop down from the counter and attempt to fix your hair so it looks a little better. Kicking one foot up behind you, you tug your panties off your ankle and turn to face Steve, shoving them into the front pocket of his jeans. Steve swoons at the sly look in your eyes, and the way you didn't even attempt to clean his cum off of you when the two of you turn to leave the quiet confines of the bathroom.
You giggle again when he interlocks his fingers with yours, letting him pull you along through the sea of people and out onto the front lawn down the street and only a few blocks away until you reached Steves house.
"Yeah" Steve thought. "I'm gunna marry her"
thanks for reading! <3
#hellfiremunsonn#Steve Harrington#Stranger Things#Steve Harrington smut#Steve Harrington x reader#Steve Harrington x fem reader#Steve Harrington x you#Steve Harrington stranger things#Stranger Things Steve Harrington#Steve Harrington fluff#Stranger Things smut#Steve Harrington fic#Steve Harrington x (Y/N)#stranger things fic
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u don't have to draw this but i have no where else to go to dump this idea i got from some random pinterest post lol. so joel asks etho what his favourite colour is, for reasons that do not include being obsessed with the guy. except etho never gives him noncommittal answers like yeah i like all the colours, or rainbows are pretty nice i guess, and it drives joel mad. so he keeps randomly and extremely subtly pointing at objects around them every so often, like "look at that yellow snail eefo, it's very yellow isn't it? what's your opinion on the yellow snail?" or" the sky is very blue huh? Do you like the sky?" and etho once again answers with non-answers.
but like a couple hours later, when joel's ran out of colours he finally gives up after etho says that the yellow ochre wheat is mid. he's about to leave when etho stops him, "that yukata looks really nice on you by the way"
and joel jumps up and down, laughing maniacally (or bordering on maniacally) - the yukata was blue! and he basically spends the entire day bragging about how he so subtly found out etho's favourite colour to anybody that asked - or if they didn;t ask they heard it anyways.
funny thing is, etho didn't have a favourite colour - until then. because joel was smiling so excitedly and laughing and all those things. and now everything blue seemed a little more happier, more special.
the idea of this is just really cute to me. so sorry if i didn't describe this well. and sorry if this is too much to put in here and ur weirded out T^T i just dunno where else to go cause i'm a lurker
this is kinda cute as fuck thanks ily
#I guess im the “submit your boat boys headcanons and whatnot here” guy#Well somebody has to do it..
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that has a supporting character with dwarfism, and he's really close with his older brother, who is pretty tall. would it be weird if i sometimes had the younger ask his older brother pick him up so he can reach things? its supposed to be a cute little quirk of theirs that shows their bond, but i'm worried it might come off as weird for some reason. also, do you guys could give me a couple more tips on writing a character with dwarfism, if you have any? thanks in advance! (2/2)
Hi! the guy who asked about less talkative autistic characters here. sorry about that! i was going for more of like... don't talk to a point where it wouldn't be considered "socially acceptable?" but i had a character limit so i couldn't really get my point across that well. now that i think about it, that would probably also be lumped into just, yknow, not being talkative too. anyways, i have another unrelated question! probably equally silly but w/e. i'm writing a slice-of-life story (1/2)
Hello lovely asker!
I just wanna say that because of the ask backlog and the rotation of mods I'm afraid I don't know what ask your talking about, but I'm sure it was simply just a question that was in good faith of curiosity which is what this blog is for 😊
And to answer your question, I'm curious with how old the younger brother is. I haven't been picked up since I was probably about five to help me reach something and even then I was getting yelled at for climbing counters and such. If the younger brother isn't a very young child I would avoid this.
Being picked up is a general no. if you wouldn't do it to anyone else don't do it to someone with dwarfism or any person with a disability. Unless it's under their explicit permission, or help with transferring (from say a mobility aid to a bed or another place etc) or life or death situation, it's almost always a no.
Instead using things like the broom handle to hit tall switches or they even have these things called a "Reacher Grabber" that makes grabbing high up things super easy. Stool also are a big help, the small collapsible ones are easy to carry and move, and certain placed handles help too. Tall people are an advantage I will say though. Having the older brother bring something down to the younger brother is fine. Also have the younger brother climb things and stack objects and use the environment around him so he can get what he wants. I assure you this is what most of us do a lot.
A few more writing tips I have would be:
Research different types of dwarfism and find out which one you want your character to have and how this will affect him. It doesn't have to be mentioned at all but you knowing what type will give you much more insight into building this character.
Don't be afraid to give them mobility aids. A lot of people with Dwarfism have them and use them because they help us and they're pretty common in the community. (Do plenty of research there too if they do have one!)
A joke once or twice, especially if the two characters are very very close, about his dwarfism is okay! Me and my friends joke about mine all the time but quantity control along with a joke in good taste and timing is very important.
The character getting frustrated with his disability is okay too! It happens to me a lot but usually I'll find a solution right after to the thing that frustrated me and that frustration is gone as quick as it came.
If he's having a long conversation or an eye-to-eye conversation with someone that's tall, have them sit down somewhere, get to eye-level (I wouldn't have them lean over to his height though). It really does start to hurt your neck and head after looking up at everyone for so long.
And lastly, I certainly use my height to my advantage in multiple different scenarios. Small hands and small containers or spaces are very compatible with one another. And even though I have to shop in the small teens or kids section for clothes or shoes, I will say certain things are made better for kids (for some reason). But I also know how to hem my own clothes and how to fix them! A lot of people with dwarfism make or modify their own clothes. I can't tell you the amount of times I've gotten discounts at buffets and restaurants because people just assume I'm a child and I'm not gonna protest the discount either so. There are many fun aspects to having dwarfism, I have more fun with it and get more laughs and community out of it than frustration or anything else.
I know there's many more little things that I'm forgetting right now but the dwarfism community could probably add a few things too. Good luck writing!
~ Mod Virus 🌸
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Guilty as sin? [SVT Dino x Reader]
Welcome to the first part of the TTPD x SVT series! Introducing you to our adorable maknae, who has been the biggest inspiration for me to create and finish a story this week. This song is dedicated to all the dreamers, the fangirls, and those seeking to be treated right. Enjoy!
PAIRING: idol!chan x gn!reader
GENRE: angst (too much delusional)
WARNINGS: mentions of food and drinks, suggestive, reader has a boyfriend, a few curse words
WORD COUNT: 3.8k
Series Masterlist | Next
"𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞"
It wasn't supposed to end like this. This journey was supposed to be a brief interlude in the grand scheme of things. Yet, here you are. In this reality. In this present.
You were running late that day.
Well, at least that's how you look at it. You prided yourself on never making anyone wait—a firm believer that punctuality was a virtue you held dear, never wanting to inconvenience others. Everything you needed was already prepared and waiting by the door. As you waited for your ride, you have your best friend on the phone.
"And then how's the boyfriend?"
"He's great."
"You're still seeing him," he remarked, more to himself than to you. You found it unusual to hear his tone lacking the usual enthusiasm as you were more accustomed to his cheerful demeanour.
"It's not that easy, Cheol."
"Fine, we'll talk when you get here. By the way, I know you're not good with strangers, but is it alright if I ask one of my members to pick you up instead? I'm out of the way, and he'll pass by your apartment on the way. It's alright if you don't want to, though."
Do I have a choice? you wanted to retort, but you knew Seungcheol too well. He was the kind of person who wouldn't even let you open the door for yourself; he was just that thoughtful.
"Is he nice?"
"Very much, unlike that dick you're dating. He's the baby in our group!" You ignored his not so subtle insult he just threw about your boyfriend. You sense a hint of pride visible in his voice. So you tried to tease lightly to lighten the mood, "So, a superstar's gonna drive me?"
"Hey, why don't you say that when I'm the one driving you?"
"Fine. I trust your judgment. Just, tell him I'm super awkward, alright?"
"Don't worry. He's pretty good with people. I'll tell him not to be weird."
"𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬
𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧' 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬
𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐱"
"Hi, I'm Lee Chan!"
You went to step out on the porch a full 30 minutes earlier than planned, determined not to keep your ride waiting. The early morning air was crisp, and the faint glow of dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky. Just as you took the first step down the porch stairs, a car pulled into your driveway, surprising you.
You quickly gathered all your things. Lee Chan greeted you with a friendly smile, and you returned the gesture with a bow before carefully getting into the passenger seat. "Good morning, hi! I'm so sorry. I really hope I'm not bothering you."
"Not really, it's fine. I'm going to pass by your apartment anyway."
"Cheol insists and I couldn't say no," you explained, feeling immense gratitude for his understanding. His tone was light and easygoing, which calmed you a bit.
"Well, it's Cheollie. It's fine, really!" he laughed, clearly trying to ease any tension, which seemed to work. "It's okay if you want to stay silent, alright? I'll just turn on the radio. I hope you don't mind."
"Oh no, I don't. It's your car."
During the drive, the boy made light small talk, about the weather, your impression of South Korea so far, and how you and Seungcheol knew each other, "We go way back, like elementary school levels," you shared, smiling at the memories. "I appreciate how he hasn't forgotten his roots, even after all the achievements he's had." You also mentioned that you were a sound engineer.
His friendly demeanour and natural charm made the journey feel shorter than it was. You found yourself laughing at his jokes and stories, enjoying the unexpected company.
You had arrived at the studio without realizing it.
"Hey Chan, thank you so much for this. I owe you," you expressed your gratitude as you both got out of the car, very appreciative of his kindness.
"Don't mention it!" he replied with a smile, waving goodbye as you went your separate ways.
You met Seungcheol in the cafeteria to grab breakfast and catch up before proceeding with the recording. As you watched from the control room, you were overjoyed with all the gadgets and equipment, finding it a little funny and impressive how all thirteen boys managed to record so quickly, considering they only got 1-2 lines per song.
The atmosphere in the studio was lively, and you couldn't help but feel excited to be a part of it all.
The recording process stretched on for a week, followed by several more weeks for mastering. During this time, you had the opportunity to build a rapport with the staff, particularly with Jihoon, whose dedication and talent in producing the songs left you in awe each day.
You also had the chance to meet the other members, but your interactions were quite limited due to their celebrity status. They were always surrounded by tight security, even within the studio premises, unless Seungcheol came to check in on you. One time, while you were helping out the audio department, Seungcheol checked on you along with Chan.
"What are you even doing here? You don't even care about me," Jihoon playfully chided, nudging Chan away as he reached for the audio mixer's controls.
"It's because I'm not here for you, loser! I'm checking in on YN!" They were playfully pushing each other, almost like kids playing, which you were grateful for, or else they would've seen how red you turned.
Jihoon settled back into his big ass producer chair, a big grin on his face and you couldn't help but feel that he needed that short break; he had been working nonstop the whole day, glued to that chair. "What a friend you are, Chan."
"Hi Y/N! How are you?" Chan greeted warmly with his signature charm, his smile infectious.
"Chan, hey. I'm good. Actually just being amazed every day by Jihoon," you tried to express your admiration for his talent. The two boys joined in, showering Jihoon with compliments, and you could see the blush on his face, a clear sign of the love and appreciation he received from everyone. You thought he was humble.
As you and Chan caught up, you couldn't help but notice the genuine kindness and warmth in Chan's demeanor.
This led you to look at him in a way you knew you shouldn't, feeling a fleeting moment of attraction that left you momentarily conflicted, your thoughts briefly drifting to your boyfriend. Your mind wandered, 'When will my own boyfriend ask me how I am?'
Scoups announced they had to leave.
"Ji, take care of Y/N," they bid their goodbyes and exchanged hugs. Chan surprised you by pulling you into a hug as well. As you felt his embrace, you couldn't shake the feeling of longing that lingered after he left, a stark contrast to the fleeting thought of your boyfriend.
"𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧
𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧?"
When the mastering was completed, a company party was held to celebrate the accomplishments, but it was exclusive to all creatives responsible for the producing and mastering. You were fortunate enough to be friends with Seungcheol and had also won Jihoon's friendship along the process, so you received an invite.
At the party, you mingled with many of the creatives, expanding your network and soaking in the knowledge and experiences of seasoned professionals. You found yourself inspired by their stories and insights, feeling more motivated than ever to pursue your own career in the industry.
As the night went on, you couldn't help but reflect on how far you had come since starting your journey. A beautiful warm feeling in your heart as you look at all the opportunities you had received and excited for what the future held.
The party had a semi-formal dress code, so you opted for smart slacks to ensure comfort throughout the evening.
As your social battery began to drain, you found a moment to sit down at a round table. A waiter promptly served your food, and shortly after, Chan approached and asked, "Is this seat taken?"
"No, go ahead, sit."
True to form, Chan's presence was comforting, and any hint of your earlier drained battery seemed to vanish as if Chan had electrified you with energy.
You both shared laughs, with Chan mostly cracking jokes and pointing out random people, sharing funny anecdotes about them. You found this particularly amusing as you had met and knew half of them from the mastering process.
"Have you tried their cocktail yet? It's so good!"
"Oh, and don't forget to apply Vaseline to your lips every night."
"Moisturizer! Every time I finish shaving."
He was just an ordinary guy, chatting with you about the most everyday things. That's what you liked about Chan—there was never a dull moment when he was around. You were starting to get used to his presence, finding comfort in his company.
Seungcheol and Jeonghan took seats in front of you. "Is this guy bothering you, Y/N?" Seungcheol asked jokingly.
"Why would you even say that?" the boy beside you just whined like a baby. You laughed and carried on with your conversation, enjoying the lively atmosphere of the party.
After a few drinks, the both of you were now eating pasta. Chan took a bite from your plate, and a piece fell on your thigh. "Shit, I'm sorry," he exclaimed.
You both burst into hysterical laughter at the randomness of the situation. Chan quickly took the piece off, whilst you're relieved that you were wearing pants. A faint stain was left, "Hey, it looks like a cursive 'M.'"
As Chan's finger traced the cursive "M" on your thigh, you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions. His touch, so gentle yet electrifying, sent a shiver down your spine, and a warm sensation spread through your body. His smile was innocent, but the effect it had on you was intense. You were acutely aware of the world around you seemingly stopping, leaving just the two of you trapped in a bubble with his burning touch.
You locked eyes with Chan, and for a moment, you couldn't help but notice how close he was. His presence was comforting yet exhilarating, and you found yourself leaning slightly into his touch, wanting more but also hesitant to show it. You were lost in the moment, caught between the warmth of his touch and the realization that this was a line you shouldn't cross.
Eventually, the spell was broken as Soonyoung approached to whisk Chan away for another one of their antics. As Chan withdrew his hand, the spell seemed to break, and you became aware of the bustling party around you once again. You could feel your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement, and you quickly looked away to try to compose yourself.
He excused himself and as you watched them go, you couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in a surreal moment, wondering what it all meant and where it might lead.
In front of you, you felt a burning gaze. "What?"
"Can I talk to you?" Seungcheol asked, his tone serious as he gestured towards an empty hallway.
"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 "𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞" 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝?"
"Chan, really? Of all the boys, you chose Chan?"
"What are you talking about?" You tried to keep your voice low, but you already had a feeling of where this conversation was going.
"You know, I wouldn't mind it because you're seeing a jerk and I want you to be happy. But Chan? It's Chan who you fell for?" Seungcheol's tone was a mix of confusion and concern.
"Can you please lower your voice? People might hear you!" Y/N whispered urgently, glancing around to make sure they weren't drawing attention.
"You—" Seungcheol paused, catching himself before saying something he might regret. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
When he finally regained his composure, he looked at you, silently urging you to continue. He's never given this look at you before so you just looked down in fear, "how did you know?"
"Uhm, the way you looked?" You met his gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. "Sorry, but it wasn't that subtle, just in case you don't know." You groaned, feeling like your secret was suddenly out in the open when it was supposed to be locked up in a tiny vault, never to be opened.
"Damn it. It was your fault!"
"Mine?!" As the ever-good leader of Seventeen group, Seungcheol was obviously taken aback by this accusation.
"You introduced him to me!" You tried pointing out, but even you weren't convinced by it. You just fell, and you fell hard.
"Oh my god, you've been crushing on him since that day?" The man in front of you looked so pale like a ghost.
"What's so bad about Chan? I get that I'm seeing someone right now, but it's not like something will blossom from this. I'm coming home in a few days anyway," you defended.
"I don't know. It's just weird. He's like a little brother," Seungcheol explained, trying to make sense of his feelings.
"I hate to break it to you, Cheol, but he's an adult and he's not your kid."
Their conversation was cut short when they heard the boys running down the hallway, their voices loud and boisterous.
"Cheollie!" Mingyu called out, followed by Soonyoung and Chan, their voices filled the empty hallway like a bunch of kids running around.
"See what I mean?" You actually found the situation funny, you got his look understanding exactly what he was referring to.
"Hey, is it alright if I bail early? I suddenly don't feel well," you asked, your expression turning slightly uneasy.
"I'll tell my driv--" Seungcheol was interrupted by Mingyu crashing into him and hiding behind his back.
"Cheollie, look at these two!" Mingyu exclaimed, attempting but failing to hide himself.
"I swear to god if you three don't behave yourselves! We're at a company event, not in a GOSE episode," Seungcheol scolded. You felt like he had been through so much that night already—dealing with you and Chan, and then managing the antics of the other boys too.
He then turned to you, "Just tell my driver to come back right after. This party doesn't seem like it's ending soon."
"Huh? You're leaving already, Y/N?" Chan asked disappointment was evident in his tone, but you didn't dwell on it too much.
"Yeah, I don't really drink much, so I got a little light-headed with the drinks we had."
"Oh, I didn't even feel a kick," he boasted.
"Of course, frat boy, it's you," Soonyoung teased him. You don't know why boys do that but they seem to always slap some shit out of their friends when they're all teasing.
"Oy! I'm not a drunk!"
"Yeah, right," Mingyu joined.
"Well, good night, everyone!" you bid your farewell and started to make your way back inside.
"Can I walk you, at least?" Chan offered, looking genuinely concerned.
You exchanged a glance with the eldest, "Oh, it's fine. I'm good. Thank you for the offer, though," you tried to sound politely as you can, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty about your decision.
"Alright, well have a good night, Y/N," Chan said warmly, bidding you goodbye as the others chimed in to greet too.
You turned to leave the party coming home with a pang of regret, wondering if you should have accepted Chan's offer after all.
Returning to your apartment, the weight of disappointment that usually accompanied your boyfriend's predictable good morning text was conspicuously absent. Instead, there was a curious sense of relief, as if a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.
As you settled in, the memory of Chan lingered, his presence more vivid than ever. You couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that had enveloped you in his company, a stark contrast to the mundane routine of your current relationship.
The night replayed in your mind like a movie. You remembered the way Chan's eyes lit up when he talked about his passions, the genuine interest he showed in your own stories, and the way he made you feel seen and understood in a way your boyfriend never had. The laughter, the camaraderie, the easy banter with Chan—all of it felt more real and vibrant than anything you had experienced in a long time.
You remember the way his finger drew burns on your skin.
You couldn't help but compare the excitement and genuine connection you felt with Chan to the monotony and predictability of your relationship with your boyfriend. His single text message, a mere formality, now seemed like a stark reminder of what was lacking in your current situation.
Despite the late hour and the day's activities leaving you tired, sleep eluded you as you lay in bed, your thoughts consumed by Chan. You found yourself wondering about what could've been.
You hadn't returned to the studio since the party, as you weren't needed there anyway.
"Cheol, I'm coming home early," you decided, thinking it would be best to leave before your feelings grew unrequited.
"I thought you still had a few more days?" even through a phone call, his surprised voice is pretty evident.
"Yeah, I thought I'd start early, you know? Got a lot to prepare."
"Alright, well, this is so sudden. I planned on hanging out before you leave but, if that's what you want, sure. Do you already have your plane ticket?" he inquired.
"Yup. Find someone else to spoil, not me. You've already spoiled me enough with this part-time opportunity!" you joked. "I can't thank you enough."
"What can I say? I'm the best."
"You actually are," you admitted sincerely, feeling a warmth in your chest from the precious relationship you have with your best friend.
"Well, when will I see you again?" he asked, even if you haven't left yet, you can already hear the longing in his voice.
In school reunions?" you joke to try to lighten the mood.
"Ha-ha."
"I'm just a phone call away, Cheol," you reassured him, hoping to offer some comfort. The bond you shared was strong, and you knew that no matter the distance, your friendship would endure.
With that, you flew away from South Korea without looking back. However, your thoughts couldn't seem to leave that place.
"𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐞
𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞
𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧' 𝐮𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞"
"Hi, baby. Look, I know you must be upset, but please hear me out."
You stood at the airport, the cold, sterile surroundings matching the numbness in your heart.
It's now almost an hour.
Each minute stretching like an eternity, as you waited for your ride home. This situation was all too familiar, a painful routine of either waiting for him or picking him up.
"I'll just call you a taxi, alright? And then, I'm gonna treat you to a nice dinner. Sounds good?"
Dinner was indeed nice, except for the part where he brought his whole group of friends. As much as you wanted to catch up with your boyfriend, the whole time you just wanted to lie down in bed, too jet-lagged from all the traveling that day.
Physically, you were there, but mentally, you were still in the studio. You were still at that party. You were still with Chan.
You felt a hand on your thigh, a gesture meant to reassure, but it only served to highlight the growing distance between you. His touch felt foreign, a stark contrast to the intimacy it once held.
It felt like he was encroaching on your space. Despite the happiness of being home and the prospect of spending more time together, every interaction felt jarring, out of sync.
Each kiss felt like poison, leaving a bitter taste on your lips. Every hug seemed to suffocate, the embrace too tight, too restricting. Every touch sent shivers down your spine, but not the kind that thrilled. They felt cold, devoid of the warmth you once knew.
And with every climax, you found yourself calling out a different name in your head, a silent plea for something more, something real.
"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲"
The day rushed past as the first music video from the album was completed. You had the exclusive opportunity to view it before its public release. Seungcheol even asked for your genuine review and your reaction was beyond words. Your involvement in its production gave you a unique perspective, witnessing the meticulous effort and creative genius behind every scene.
Seeing the boys perform with such passion and talent warmed your heart. Especially seeing him. As a member of the performance team, his dancing prowess was expected, but witnessing it live was awe-inspiring.
A tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek, a mix of pride and a deep yearning for Seungcheol's advice. While you could end your relationship now, it wasn't that simple. Your career was your priority, and you craved stability, something you doubted Chan could provide as a pop star. While you longed for adventure, what you truly needed was a sense of security and stability in your life.
You yearn for the way Chan makes you feel when you're with him. His presence is like a burst of energy, always leaving you electrified and invigorated. It's a stark contrast to the dynamics of what you actually have now in a relationship.
Seungcheol did mention Chan asking how you've been doing and all that. This made you realize that you needed to distance yourself. Choosing not to entertain thoughts of Chan any longer seemed like the only sensible solution. After all, as a pop star, entertaining others was part of his nature, and you didn't want to be just another audience member in his life, they were programmed to do just that, even for you.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. This journey was supposed to be a brief interlude in the grand scheme of things. Yet, here you are. In this reality. In this present.
But in another life, you would choose you and him religiously.
PSA: This is a work of pure fiction. Any names, events, times, or places mentioned are purely for entertainment and are entirely fictional (well, except for the names of the members).
© All copyrights for the title, lyrics, and concept of this work belong to Taylor Swift. The plot and dialogue of the story are entirely original and created by me, unless explicitly stated otherwise. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this work may result in legal action.
#madewithangst writes#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#svt#svt x reader#dino x reader#lee chan#chan x reader#dino svt#svt dino#ttpd#taylor swift#dino imagines#lee chan imagines#lee chan x reader#scoups#woozi#hoshi#mingyu#svt imagines#svt fanfic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fluff#angst#poetry#fanfiction#inpired by taylor swift
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in all the 'trauma siblings' stuff with Clover & Kanako, I keep coming back to thinking about how Flowey engages with this
Like, here's someone who went through an at least similar ordeal of getting a human soul mixed into a monster body, leading to a lethal, traumatic injury, into a rebirth into a new body whose physical and emotional state are all way the fuck out of wack
Except Flowey was shaped a lot by having to go through the traumatic aftermath alone, and lives in the weird space of having experienced unknown years of resets but also is still mentally kind of a child
So I have to think that Flowey sees these kids and that little Asriel part of him is screaming "don't let them wind up like us", but being Flowey he also has no idea how to really comfort anyone.
Leading to sweet moments like Clover collapsing somewhere and before anyone else in their family can even pick up on something being wrong, there's already vines springing up to catch them, because of course Flower would know how to spot weakness in people after years of doing that, but now there's a productive positive use for that instinct and it's nice
But also moments like "Gee how do I cheer up Kanako about that appointment with Alphys... I know! We'll torment her! What a wonderful idea!" Because hey, a little bit of sadism always cheered him up when he was suffering
And he'd probably settle toward a crass & hyperbolic style of comforting people with hit-or-miss moments, like a sort of "Wow clover you ate SHIT just now", trying to get them laughing at the misfortune instead of crying, but obviously sometimes It's Not The Time For That or he reverts a bit back to thinking something really fucked up like "Man, that person was really rude just now, we should kill them and everyone they love" and the kids look back at Flowey like "dude what the fuck"
And everybody's different ways of processing trauma are constantly both helping and clashing with each other as these kids help each other figure this shit out because as much as the adults want to help nobody but these 3 can really come close to understanding how it feels
this has been a big ramble for an ask and not really an ask but I wanted you to have this
THIS IS SOOOO GOOD BECAUSE YOURE 100% RIGHT
flowey struggles with knowing the concept of empathy and compassion but not really. KNOWING it. i imagine he can at least remember how it feels being asriel and during the final boss but. its easy to know what it is and harder to put it into practice when you dont actually feel it
i think youre right in that he would try his best to help but not really know HOW. like it takes him a bit to realize that oh, i can see the weaknesses in people, whatdo i do with this information now that i cant use it to exploit them? what can i do to help instead of harm? what is objectively the GOOD thing to do with this information?
hes still an asshole and a bitch but he cares. hes learning to anyways. even if he missteps a lot the people around him are forgiving and willing to help him on the right path and correct him. i love…. flowey :[
#asked and answered#monster clover au#mcau lore#i love character studies and analysis. i love them so much#im not very good at writing them but read this was absolutely a joy#ohhgghh flowey kanako clover frisk friendship is literally everything to me#flowey kanako and clover support circle where they talk about trauma#flowey and kanako talking about isolation and the lab#AUAUGHUHH
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Okay I don’t want this to be like an obnoxious millennial assumption because I’m positive that every generation has things like this, but the way autism and ADHD was treated for us in the 90’s and how it affects adult diagnoses is like, imo, so integral to our coming of age and the stories we tell and the way we’ve gotten to know ourselves, even the way it relates to our job market and economy and how we operate inside it, and especially the way a pandemic uncovered it for so many people and exposed the cracks and revealed that we were all just barely functioning and held together with popsicle sticks and anyway
I say that because maybe it’s the un-diagnosed 90’s child in me but I feel particularly emotional about Keith’s arc in learning that he’s part Galra, and the way even the creators said they made him sort of prickly because of his biology, and I just !! Think so much about Keith’s neurotype as a part Galra!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cause something about being diagnosed later in life is like, looking back at all the other ways you tried to handle yourself, all the missteps, maybe even misdiagnoses. Like, how many times did you try to treat ANXIETY without realizing you didn’t have an anxiety disorder, you just can’t deal with your family blaring the TV from the next room? How many times were you told you were lazy, or lying, when you didn’t know what executive dysfunction is?
Keith is such a lovely rich character because his prickliness is EARNED—we know what happened to him, we know he’s traumatized, we know he’s been treated poorly by many people in his life. We know that he grew up thinking that he’d been abandoned by one of the people who should’ve loved him the most, in the whole world. He even questions that in his vlog—he makes the connection that he has trouble with people because of his mom.
But I just wonder like, how much of it is just his biology. Not understanding the body he’s in, being completely ignorant of one whole half of his culture. Had he ever mutated before the TBP fight? Did it take him by surprise, did it frighten him? ((* This is head canon territory LMAO there’s no way to really know—like, is he able to do this because he just spent so much time with Krolia, or does Shiro going That’s the Keith I remember mean they used to have really primal sex that turned his eyes yellow? Lol))
Like when we talk about even the most broad generic terms of saying someone is neurodivergent, we don't even need to put a real life label on Keith. Like he's literally not human! Of course his brain looks different! Of course he functions differently! And I wonder how much is nature v nurture -- if he knew the truth about his mom, if his dad had lived, if he'd been allowed a normal childhood, would he still have been a weird kid?
Cause like, even seeing the way Shiro is able to get through to him, we see ways that he allowed for thrill seeking, and he didn't judge Keith for stealing his car. It reminds me of like, what we know now about asking children to sit still in school, and how perhaps some children would do better with standing desks. Shiro wants him to behave and succeed, and doesn't judge him for being a car thief, and gets through to him by bringing him cliff diving. And it just feels like this clue, you know, that nothing is wrong with Keith, he's just living in a weird place where people don't get him.
It’s just really special to me, because there’s so many pieces in the sequence of events of Keith’s character arc, and I know I’ve said this a handful of times now, but I really sincerely believe it’s the only thing the show really nailed. Accepting himself during the BOM Trial -> MOMENTS later learning something ver important about his biology -> spending time with Krolia -> coming back to pilot Black when he’s READY and WANTS to (unlike the first time, when he resisted) -> becoming a pragmatic strong leader by the end.
Gosh idk.
I don’t really have anywhere to go with this, it’s just something I was thinking about today and it gets me real emotional. Like, Keith must have had these moments, re-evaluating who he’d been before he’d known, finally understanding why he was Like That, and it’s so healing to imagine him accepting his past self and forgiving it because he understands now.
#hes just a lil baby#keith kogane#sheith#SPACE MAN META#i watched the lion king this morning and cried my eyes out and it got me so upset about keith LMFAO
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