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hiorisgf · 1 year

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##I'LL MAKE YOU MORE FLOWERS, SO PLEASE SMILE MORE

↪Paper flowers are difficult to make. But for you, he'll do it a hundred times.

↪ft. Mikage Reo

↪What's on your mind?: I don't know how to draw flowers please forgive me guys

Mikage Reo was a prodigy. A jack of all trades master of none type of guy. The genius that could copy up to 99% of any techniques available—a well-known football player in the world of football. But why. Why can't he emulate what the video taught him just 3 hours ago?

Reo holds up the flower origami he made, sighing at the pathetic imitation of the flower origami you'd see in the video. Without caring where it'll land, Reo mindlessly throws it at wherever—not bothered enough to care about messing up his already messed up room. A pile of crumpled papers surrounded him, taking up the space of his room;but that was the least of his problems.

He tries again, trying to do exactly just what the video told him to. Only to still somehow mess up; he winces at the depressed looking flower, swearing it didn't look like this before. He groans as he yet again throws another paper away and take another coloured paper to repeat the steps. This was harder than he expected it to be. Honestly, why couldn't he be talented at the things that mattered most? Why is it that when he decides to make really good use of his talent it suddenly doesn't work?

"Gah! I can't do it, it's too difficult!"

Reo ruffles his hair, grumbling as he fails to yet again make a decent looking flower origami.

For a moment, Reo considers giving up. Why did he even do somethings as troublesome as this? He could just buy some—

"I like handmade gifts. I mean—aren't they just so romantic?! And cute to boot! I wish I could recieve one someday too.."

Your words stops him from his thoughts and made him remember just why exactly he decided to do such a troublesome task like, make a bouqet of paper flowers made by him to be sent to yours truly. The reason was honestly simple, because he wanted to impress you. To prove to you that he could be the guy you'd like—the guy you'd come to love. He wanted to see you smile, to see your eyes sparkle like the stars in the night sky as he hands you the gift he's worked hard on. To see you fall more inlove with him. Reo remembers his motivations, and he comes back with twice as much motivation than before. For your smile! He'd tell himself, taking another sheet of paper and folding it.

Hours pass and he may never get to sleep at this rate, but if it's for you then he wouldn't mind. He hums a song, one from the playlist he's made as he thought of you before. A determined grin etches its way onto his face, determined to finish the present if only for the sake of your smile.

"Ah! I finally did it!"

Reo proudly raises his paper art. It was considerably better—now atleast somewhat decent rather than being downight horrendous. Arranging the paper flowers into a bouqet, he spun it around and nodded his head in agreement. This should suffice. Now all he needed to do is sleep and—it was already 7:40 am. He was already ten minutes late to school.

With haste, he quickly grabs his phone and check the time. And sure enough, it said in bold numbers: 7:42 am.

Shoot. He was late.

Without wasting any seconds, Reo immediately stood up and ran to the bathroom. Almost tripping over a paper he crumpled and threw away, he curses as he barely managed to fall all the way down.

By the time he arrived, he was 34 minutes late to class.

Oh. This was more nerve-wracking than he thought.

He only realizes that when he's standing right infront of you. Paper flowers hidden behind his back. He feels his hand sweat and shake—voice growing shaky as he starts to say the lines he's been preparing since this early morning. It's bothering—how tounge tied he gets around you. He's stuttering and spluttering, barely managing to say the words he's been wanting to tell you.

With trembling hands, he nervously hands you the bouqet. "Here."

When you take the gift from his hands, he grows worried. Eyeing the paper flower with disdain as he only now realizes the dozens of flaws it had. His work could be compared to that of a kinder gartener—it was seriously bad. A part of him wants to take it back, to grab it from your hand and stomp on it then run away. It's bad—undeserving of your attention and your touch. He wants to go and crawl into a 10 ft hole he digged and hide himself for the rest of eternity. Where did he get the idea that it'd be enough to even consider giving to you?

"Ah. Reo, did you make this?" you ask—and there's the certain tone in your voice that gets his heart to pick up the pace.

"Y—yeah. Although it isn't the best. Sorry."

"..Oh."

A second—and a smile blooms on your face. It looks different, he'd notice. It wasn't like the smiles you'd give when he bought you store bought gifts—a tinge of uncomfortability always tainted the expression and bothered him. It wasn't like the comforting smiles you'd give whenever he was in trouble. Nor did it look like the ones you'd have throughout the day. This one was different—different in the way the thousands of constellations in your eyes would light up and dance around as you take the time to admire the bouqet, ignoring the one hundred mistakes you could see from there. It's different in the way time seemed to slow to a stop just to look at you. Different in the way you looked etheral with the smile—and the light casted over by the windows and the sun up above; as though you were an angel on earth.

Pure, unbridled joy rests on your face. It seeps from you and heads over to him, and it leaves him smiling idiotically. As uncharacteristic that is. It's unbelievable, how it wasn't brand gifts you wanted. How such a lousy gifts full of mistakes was enough to get you smiling like this. It's unbelievable, how it took him so long to know about this. Why had he deprived himself of such a smile so long? He must've been a fool.

"Thank you Reo!! I really, really, really love it!"

Ah. The smile you've directed at the bouqet alone— is now being directed at him, and he feels like dying.

"Next time" he starts, bringing you back from your reverie. "Next time, I'll make you a better one than that. So wait for it until then"

If only for your smile, then he'll do the hellish procedure of making paper flowers again. A million—or a billion times if he has to. Until he can make a flower perfect for you, then he won't stop. But even after he's already made a paper flower worthy of you—he doesn't think he'll stop.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader

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koralira-kira · 10 months

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when it rains 🎐han jisung🎐

pairings : han jisung x reader

genre : fluff, romance, slice of life, did i say fluff?

synopsis : situations wherein you came to love han's habit when it rains

warnings : profanities used

wc : 980

notes : i finally finished this little bitch after two days. i've been really busy lately cuz me and my parents are going back and forth from the city to my grandparents house (the province) bc of my granddad's death anniversary. and to add that, we're packing my things to go back to my dorm since school is about to start. so yeah, the travelling is killing the shit out of me. other than that, a big thanks to all 249 of you for liking my bang chan fic!!! ya'll don't how ecstatic i felt for that. anyways, moving on, here's the fic. hope you enjoy!

---

man, it's really raining like cats and dogs outside. it has been raining hard for the last couple of days lately, and honestly you quite liked it. that is, minus all the thunder and lightning. but in your situation, not only do you like the rain for what it is but also for how your boyfriend is reacting to it. let me explain. han loved the rain as much as you do. especially when it gets all cold in the apartment complex. NOW let's just say that whilst the cold temperature is going on, he likes to expose the bare top half of his body. the first time you saw this, you're all confused as to why he took his hoodie off when he could've just got a wife beater or tank top. but oh no no no.

"woah, hold on there. what do you think you're doing?" you asked as soon as han was about to take his hoodie off.

"why what's wrong?" he asked, confused as to why you stopped him from stripping. poor boy just likes the cold, ok?

"it's so cold, baby, why are you taking your hoodie off?"

"i like the cold, sweetheart. why? is there a problem?" now he's being cocky. his ego definitely boosted up after he took off that hoodie.

"oh no no, it's fine. just... carry on i guess," he smirked. goddamn that fucking smirk is killing the shit out of you.

now he joins you sitting at the opposite end of the couch and taking out his phone from his pocket. you took your gaze out from your phone for a minute to look at jisung. when i tell you this man is sculpted, he IS sculpted. you'd be lying if you said he didn't look good without the hoodie. the body- i mean, HIS body never disappoints. you could look at him for hours and heck, if you had hyunjin's hands, you wouldn't waste a second to draw him like that. you were practically drooling over him at this point, you didn't care how long you've been staring at him you just wanted too take your time looking at him. yeah, just definitely taking your time.

"hey, what are you thinking so hard about?"

"hm? oh, nothing really. just, you know, thinking," you met with his eyes for a second but soon making it back to your phone.

"... you were fantasizing about me weren't you?"

"what?! pfft- no, obviously not!" you declined, laughing it off as if it was nothing but it's undoubtedly the exact opposite.

"why don't you come over here and sit next to me, i'm a bit lonely here," his arms were now on top of the backrest of the couch, manspreading and basically looking cocky.

"oh so now i'm the one that has to adjust for you, huh?"

"so you don't want to get closer to this?" he argued back, pointing at his body.

‘this motherfucker,’ you thought.

"well, yes i'd love to but-"

"then come over here!"

"ah ah, let me finish-"

honestly, the bickering could go on.

___

the second time you experienced this little habit of his however, was much more intimate than you'd expect it to be. sure you two have had sex here and there but this one was more, say, romantic in a way.

now it was the next day and you're alone in the apartment watching a movie whilst hunching back on the couch eating a pack of doritos, han had to leave a while ago to go to the grocery store and buy a few things for the both of you. it took almost an hour for him to get back because of the bags but when he did, he was soaking wet from the rain.

"i'm back!" he said, kicking off his shoes and putting them on the shoe rack leaving him his white drenched socks.

"heyy- HEY! why are you soaking wet? didn't you bring an umbrella or something?" you rushed over to the man, helping him putting the grocery bags on the counter.

"i was about to but i saw that it was sunny outside so I didn't feel the need to. anyways, i'll go take a quick shower, love you," he said, pecking you before going to the bathroom.

"yeah yeah, don't worry i'll take it from here. love you too."

it took you not less than 10 minutes to finish putting up the groceries then headed back to the couch to finish your show, that is until SOMEBODY interrupted it.

"hey, babyyy~" once again, a topless han jisung comes out of the bathroom, crawling into your arms and cuddling you.

"you're not wearing a shirt again. you know you might catch a cold after this," you looked down at him trying to make him look into your eyes. but as stubborn as he is, he didn't listen and rested his head on the crook of your neck.

"hmm," he groggily said. you knew that he didn't wanna talk, but yet you still tried to let him know that he might get sick later on.

"han-"

"can we stay like this for a while? i kinda miss you," he cut you off. his hands making their way from your waist to your back to hold you even tighter and yours going to his hair and the other to his back caressing it. you both silently agree on not talking, it was quite comforting for the both of you. the mixture of sounds coming from the tv and rain were a perfect match, especially with his breath on your neck and the asynchronous breathing coming from the both of you as you melt into each other's arms.

you knew intimate moments like this with han would come sooner or later but you didn't expect for it to come this soon. you're not complaining though.

fin

---

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recurring-polynya · 1 year

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Writing Update/Art Update

Man, I have been bringing a real "do not feel like doing anything" vibe to this week and I really don't like.

Maybe it's because I finished both a) a long book series that I love that I have been working on re-reading/finishing since November (it's Temeraire) and b) a season-and-a-half long kdrama that Mr. P and I got completely obsessed with and spent hours and hours talking about (Alchemy of Souls). In the second case, I really thought the end of AoS was gonna leave us hanging and I was going to finally be able to write a piece of fanfic that was not Bleach, but it was very satisfying actually, and I haven't even wanted to *read* fanfic for it and I'm very disappointed in myself. (sorry to any other Park Jin/Maidservant Kim supertrash out there, if you even exist, I'm sure you would have loved me waxing rhapsodic about Jin's dreadful cooking)

How about your fanfic, Polynya, how is that going? Well...it could be worse, I guess. I did write some. I finished the scene I had not finished last week and wrote a few more. Then I happened to see a post complaining about a trope that I happened to be using and how it was dumb, and it honestly made me want to throw the whole thing in the garbage, because I am a dumb, sensitive baby! This is why I try really hard to never say negative things online!! Anyway, I will not throw it in the garbage, I will soldier on, but it really harshed my vibe, is what I am saying. Anyway, we are up to 15,545 words, which includes about 200 words of trash (trash is when something is not working and I keep my various attempts there for salvage purposes until I can get it to work), which is a little under 3k of progress for this week, overall not too bad. The story is also now twice as long as it was when I started working on it, so that's kinda nice, too. I've made about 7500 words of progress on it, which is about 1/3 of my way to my goal of 20k.

Speaking of harshing my vibe, my new computer was supposed to come tomorrow, but it was delayed and now will get here in two weeks. Maybe?? Who knows!! I feel like a good 50-75% of anything I order online anymore does not come when the website said it would come, in a way that feels like the website was lying to me to start with. This means that I will have to share my computer with my kids for the next two weeks. It's probably for the best, because I'm sure I've been wasting too much time in front of the computer lately anyway, and maybe this will help me to treat compy-time like some sort of precious commodity. (lol, it probably just means I'll spend more time on my phone, being even less productive)

I started a drawing. It's not going well. Once again, I am soldiering.

I did have an idea to go with one of the Bleach Returns prompts. Remember when I said I was gonna try to go outside my usual bounds a little bit? Ha ha, it was a lie, it's a Renruki story. I haven't started yet, but I'm hoping to give that a go this week and see if I can spin anything out of it.

Anyway, that was my week! It's summer now! Be sure to sign up for your library's summer reading program! I already earned a cool tote bag.

#writing update #art update

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cherryyharryy · 3 years

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please write something about Harry overhearing the reader’s friend tell her that Harry doesn’t spend time with her that she deserves someone better they hang up b4 the reader can say anything like angst to fluff

Thank you for requesting!

This is 80's harry lol

WC: 2.4K

Harry pauses the music on his Walkman, slipping the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck while he fiddles with the key to his apartment.

She had spent the night—his angel. It had been quite the set up, since she still lives at home with her parents while finishing college, a little white lie was passed around to cover her absence. Harry wasn’t a secret by any means, but her parents weren’t the most open minded, and a small fib was easier to handle than trying to rehash the same discussion of y/n being a grown woman. It was hard enough for her to get their approval for college...one mountain at a time.

Harry’s ears burn as he sets the groceries down in the kitchen, the thought of her still tangled up in his sheets beckoning him back to his room, is enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t catch himself zoning out until the phone rings. He untangles his music off his shoulders and yanks the phone off the wall, but y/n has beat him to it, her soft morning voice greeting Caroline before Harry can utter a word.

His brain is too slow in making the connection that he should hang up. That he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his girlfriend’s private conversation. That he owes her the respect that her parents never give her. But he hears his name, specifically, he hears Caroline ask y/n how last night was, so the phone stays glued to his ear.

“Amazing,” she purrs, and Harry’s stomach flips. “We did it like, three times.”

The girls giggle, and Harry shuffles on his feet with a veiny blush spreading all over his body. He can imagine y/n draped in his sheets, phone cord wrapped around her fingers, just a few steps away from him

“Better be nothing short of amazing,” Caroline says, “with what little time he gives you anyway. Ugh, if Tony ever left me hanging as often as Harry, I’d dump him so fast.” She smacks her gum into the phone and Harry flinches. “He tried to ditch me one time to go see Scarface with Rob, and I was like, hell no, you’re taking me skating like you promised. Honestly y/n, you can do better. You’re surrounded by college boys, go find a future doctor.”

The phone almost slips from Harry’s hand, but he catches it and hangs it back on the wall, just in time for his entire world to start crumbling to his feet.

Did he really not spend enough time with y/n?

How long has this been a topic shared between them?

And why hasn’t she said anything before?

Harry stands in the middle of his kitchen, immobilized. He can’t lose her, especially not to something he can fix. She’s been his girl since they were sixteen, there’s too much history between them, or so he thought.

He files through the memories he has of them together, trying to quantify them, trying to see where he started slipping.

Maybe it’s when he took over his dad’s business? But she knew how demanding it would be, and always supported him. Or maybe it’s because they don’t go out as much? Between him managing an appliance store, and her working towards a bachelors, they often opt for nights on the couch watching SNL reruns.

His mind is foggy, and he doesn’t catch his bedroom door creaking open.

“H?”

Harry startles back to present, gripping the counter as y/n emerges from his room wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“You okay? Look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Mm, no, fine.”

“I heard you come in a bit ago.” She flicks her eyes over his kitchen, looking for the breakfast he had promised to make almost an hour ago.

“Didn’t want to be too loud.”

“Oh, alright.” She smiles, attempting to diffuse whatever awkward tension has settled in his home. “Well, cook away! I can help too.”

He grabs her wrist before she reaches the fridge. “No, I’ll make it for you. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?”

He nods, forcing a smile.

She peers back over her shoulder twice on her walk back to his room, hoping to figure out what’s going on, but learns nothing.

As soon as his door shuts, Harry flies around his kitchen, grabbing what he needs to make the fastest breakfast in the world.

He’s going to spend every free second he has with her, and doesn’t want to waste any if he doesn’t have to.

***

Harry knows he’s borderline annoying. And he knows his actions are beginning to appear creepy, if not bizarre. He tags along with y/n everywhere she goes now, even at the doctor where he almost followed her back to her exam. She gently placed her hands on his chest and told him that she would rather the doctor do the job, promising she’d be out in no time.

She’s been tiptoeing around him too, not sure what to make of his new routine of gluing himself to her side, hoping it will wear off and things will go back to normal.

But she waits and she waits, and normal never resurfaces.

“H, baby, I can’t concentrate with you so close to me.”

Harry looks offended, slipping his reading glasses off his nose and closing the book he was halfway through, giving her his full attention when he asks what she means.

Y/n peers around the library, not wanting to have this discussion so publicly, but too keyed up to wait any longer. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve...been a little clingy lately? More like a lot.”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“You’re picking me up, and walking me to my classes—”

“Thought that was nice?”

“You don’t even go to this school. Listen, the sentiment is nice, but I’m starting to feel a little suffocated.”

Harry bites his cheek so hard he draws blood. “And what did Caroline have to say about that?”

“What?”

“I’m sure that nosy friend of yours had a lot to say about me when you brought this up.”

“Excuse me!”

“Quiet, please,” one of the staff members shushes y/n, “Or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Y/n ignores the snickers from a table of girls nearby, recoiling her embarrassment and turning it to anger. Her voice, although lowered, now drags out of her mouth in sharp tones. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard everything, that morning Caroline called my phone to talk to you about how crummy of a boyfriend I am.”

That morning, now a month ago, is hardly a memory in y/n’s head. She fights around for details of the conversation, but comes up empty handed. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.” She starts closing all her books and gathering her school work to shove into her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Harry blinks, fumbling for his next question as y/n hurries across the library. He’s quick to catch up with her, waiting until they’re outside where they don’t have to whisper. “Don’t walk, I have my car.”

He reaches for her shoulder but she shrugs it off. “I’m going home. My home, not yours.”

Harry freezes on the sidewalk. She continues on her way until she disappears around the building. A few students yell out at Harry, making fun of the guy who, from a distance, just got rejected. He flips them off and heads to his car, beating the steering wheel all the way back to his apartment.

***

“You’ve been studying an awful lot lately,” y/n’s dad comments from across the dinner table. “Do you have a big test coming up?”

“Hm?”

“You spend the night with Rayna almost every weekend.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We have a lot of tests.” Y/n spoons a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth, thankful neither of her parents went to college. It’s allowed for more stretched lies when she sleeps over at Harry’s. “Like a lot. Every week.”

Her mother hums from her seat, nodding to save her spot in the conversation while she finishes chewing. “We told you how hard it would be. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s not—” “Shelly’s daughter just got a job as a receptionist, over at that dental office by the mattress store.” Her dad points at y/n with his fork. “You could ask her if she knows of any other places looking for a girl.”

“I’m not going to have a job where the requirement is girl.”

“You’re taking this too liberally, dear. Oh Lord, John, that school did just what you said.”

“No—”

“That’s what happens, girls go off to try and get a degree...and what for? What are you going to do when you get married and have kids?”

“Kids!?”

Her mom scoffs. “Well you’re not going to be able to raise children and work.”

“Are you two serious right now? It’s 1985, not fifty-five! Women go to college, they work, some of them don’t even get married! Or have kids!”

“When you were little you couldn’t wait to be a mom. Now all of a sudden you’ve changed your mind. That never would have happened if we hadn’t let you go off to that damn school.”

“Yes I’ve changed my mind! If it hadn’t been for that school, I never would have realized that it’s my own mind to change. It’s my own life to do whatever I want with, not yours.”

“Well I am—” Her dad is interrupted by the door bell echoing outside the kitchen. “One minute. We’re not done with this yet.”

Muffled voices stagger from the front door while y/n pushes the food around her plate. She hopes that whoever is at the door keeps her dad busy for a while. She knows her mom won’t have these types of conversations without him, which just showcases the lifestyle she is adamantly trying to avoid. One that was passed down to her parents, but y/n is determined to squeeze herself out of that narrative no matter what.

“Y/n!” her dad calls, “you have a visitor.”

Y/n peers up at her mom, both women exchanging confused glances before they go see who had arrived.

“Oh,” y/n says dully, “It’s you.”

Harry stands with his hands shoved into jacket pockets, peering at each family member before speaking. “Hey, uh, I was hoping we could talk. Privately.”

Y/n nods, and leads the way back through the kitchen to the back porch. She’s not really in the mood to be talking to him, or having this conversation, but right now he’s a free ticket away from her parents, so she accepts.

They sit halfway down the steps, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. Her on the right, him on the left. Usually his arm is thrown over her shoulder, and their knees bump together until Harry pulls her in so close that not even a breeze could fit between them, but now they’re both collected on their respective sides of the wooden step.

“Heard the new Prince song?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “It’s been a week.”

“Exactly, a lot’s happened in a week. Prince came out with a new song, Michael Jordan’s rookie of the year, and there’s gonna be a Rocky four.”

“Did you come over to talk about everyone else’s good news?”

Harry sighs. “We’ve never gone a week without talking. Ever.”

“Well you really hurt my feelings.” She turns to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “I mean, you don’t even trust me, so you listen in on my phone calls—”

“That’s not—no. I picked up when you did.”

“But you still listened.”

“Okay yeah, but only because I heard my name.” He shrugs, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Wanted to hear what you thought about me.”

“I tell you what I think all the time. I’ve never kept my feelings secret from you.”

“It’s different.” He pulls his hands from his pockets and runs them through his hair, tugging on fistfuls of curls out of frustration. “But then when Caroline said all that, ‘bout me not spending enough time with you, it killed me.”

“That’s what this is about,” she sighs, more to herself than to Harry as the memory of that morning resurfaces in her mind. “You dork, what about what I said back?”

“I hung up. Didn’t wanna hear anything else after that.”

“I told her how wrong she was. How we spend lots of time together.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. She’s always bragging about her and Tony, like they’re the first two people to date ever. I totally rubbed our relationship in her face.”

Harry’s surprised by the gleam on his girlfriend’s face, and tries not to laugh. “What else did you tell her?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, suddenly shy. “Can’t remember.”

“How convenient.” He nudges her knee with his, and she bumps him back.

Y/n exhales, dipping her head back to squint at the stars peeking out from a cloudy night. “My parents are driving me crazy.”

“They always drive you crazy.”

“Yeah but, more than usual. I got spoiled staying with you on the weekends.”

Harry hums, reaching his arm over to pull her into his side. “Maybe it shouldn’t just be weekends…”

“They would know something’s up if I stayed over on weeknights.”

“No, baby, I mean permanently.”

“Like moving in together?”

“Why not?”

She chews on her lip, trying to keep her smile hidden. “I don’t know...that’s a big deal. It’s a big step.”

“We can think about it. No rush.”

“It would be nice. To see each other whenever we wanted.”

Harry tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t have to ask your parents permission for anything.”

“Yeah…”

“Just me.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, angel.” He kisses her forehead and takes her hand, helping her up.

Y/n’s parents are in the living room when the two are back in the house, and just the thought of continuing her evening here lights a fire under y/n.

“I’m going over to Harry’s,” she announces.

Harry drops her hand, just as surprised as her parents.

“Excuse me?” Her father turns the t.v. off and straightens in his chair. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I think so,” y/n defends. “Come on, Harry.” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door.

“Harry!” Her mother protests.

He looks over his shoulder just as he’s being led out the door. “Oh, you can call me Rayna.”

#Harry styles requested #Harry styles requests #requests #request #harry styles fic #cherryyharryy #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst to fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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joydone07 · 2 years

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DD Day One

So, I know I’m already behind, but I’m gonna attempt to do the whole calendar.

@maribat-calendar-events @daminettedecember

Day One: Abandon (Numb)/Fairytales

She had honestly known that Damian was too good for her, but it still hurt to get further confirmation, especially from he himself. What she did want to know, was what finally made him realize?

Marinette could hardly believe only minutes had passed, even though it felt like hours. Looking around again, she was once again crushed with the feel of abandonment.

Everything of his that had been in the apartment no more than 4 hours earlier was gone, with the spare key placed on the nightstand beside the bed.

At first, she thought it was just a trick, or maybe another kidnapping, but that was until she had noticed everything missing. Nobody would go that length to keep up appearances, right? And even if it was just a thief good at their game, would all of her stuff be left completely untouched?

The answer was no. No they wouldn’t. This seemed planned. But why? On Christmas? To break her heart? She hadn’t even thought to call him, or anyone else of the family, too deep in sadness to even think straight at the moment.

With shaky hands she reached for the fourth finger on her left hand. They had been engaged for no more than three months, and had been extensively planning a wedding. While Damian had never really liked looking through things, always finding it quite

frustrating, Marinette knew that he still loved the thought of how the wedding would be. Would have been, had he not left.

Marinette wasn’t quite sure what to do with the ring now. It was quite apparent that it was no longer needed, and holding on to it would only end up hurting her more in the long run.

Things were beginning to feel more and more hopeless. Normally, she would ask one of the kwamis for advice in this situation, but they were currently with Kagami for safekeeping. She would have called her mother, but- that just wasn’t possible.

Feeling herself start to get dizzy, she starts going through some breathing exercises. It would do no good to pass out. Getting up on shaky legs, Marinette began to catalog everything that she could do without, only wanting to bring whatever was irreplaceable, and the bare essentials.

Marinette knew she had enough money to go wherever she felt she needed to be. It’s not like she’s just been smooching off of Damian all this time. Still thinking back to her business, she decided that it may take a bit long to open back up, but she was glad she decided to close it before the holidays had started.

Drawing her phone out of her pocket, she almost cried when she turned it on. For the screen saver she had an image of Damian and herself standing side by side, holding hands in front of the Louvre, where they ended up having their first date in Paris.

With tears steadily dripping down her face once again, Marinette threw her phone across the room, can’t cringing when she heard something fall and break, but finding no motivation to go check on whatever it was.

Marinette felt herself reverting back to her Parisian mindset. It wasn’t something she herself, or even Ladybug did, just something Paris started doing as a whole. They believed it was better to turn off their emotions, rather than have them twisted.

Marinette didn’t stop it. It would be bliss to feel the numbness, rather than the feel of a broken heart. A fairy tale beginning it may have been, but there would be no happily ever after this time.

Walking into her bedroom, she trapped the first bag she could get her hands on. Shoving her supplies, wallet, and a pair of shoes into the bag, she quickly changed out of her dress, into a practical pair of jeans, a t shirt, and a jacket.

Still feeling a bit bitter, she grabbed her sketchbook and tore out the final design she had for the wedding dress. The one that she hadn’t shown Damian yet, which was supposed to be a surprise.

All of her hard work was wasted. On a man that apparently didn’t give a damn. Her mind whispered to her that that wasn’t the man she met, the boy she had been with for years.

People change. She thought, It would be best if I just decided to change along with it. Love ends in pain, and relationships, in failures. That is not what I want, anymore.

Almost thanking her past partners, she walked out with a poker face, one that could rival Damian’s own. It was quite late, but the usual noise and fog covered sky was absent, as if it was a Christmas gift the people of Gotham.

It was no wonder things didn’t work out in the end. She didn’t belong here, Marinette had always known that, deep down, but she had hoped that the feel of contentment and the sheer love was enough to get her through.

It was funny how that actually ended up being one of her greatest mistakes.

@tim-drake-is-underrated thank you for reading!

#maribat #daminette december #daminette #2021

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Phone Call Anxiety

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When wanting to make quality merch, one needs a quality team there to produce and work on quality ideas. Great minds think alike. Great eyes see alike and great hands make alike - the three keys to the formula of creating a clothing line that will be fashionable and up to his brand. Luckily, Corpse knows just who to call.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your wonderful request, I absolutely loved the idea! Sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be turned into a fic for so long, but I still hope you come across it and give it a read in which case I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

He’s not a fan of phone calls. Anyone who knows him even remotely is very well informed on Corpse’s distaste for phone calls and upholding a conversation over the phone. He’d even go as far as to say talking to a person face to face is less stressful for him than that previous option.

But still, seeing as how the person he’s trying to reach lives in a different state and is rather busy all the time, arranging an IRL meeting is basically impossible at the moment, and sending her a text results in running the risk of having the text overlooked or completely lost in the sea of notifications she probably gets on the daily.

Therefore, a phone call was his only proper way of reaching her. And it’s what’s got him pacing the room with his nervousness peaking. He doesn’t know anything about this girl, nothing concrete at least. He was referred to her by Jack who brought her up in their passing conversation when Corpse mentioned how paranoid he was regarding his upcoming merch project. He specifically stated he doesn’t want anything basic and he wants the clothes to be fashionable, suitable for anyone no matter the age or gender and to be endurable. With all the love he has for his fans, he doesn’t want to give them anything less than what they deserve - the best.

“My friend’s the person you’re looking for.“ Jack said enthusiastically and confidently, “She helped me design the latest merch line I put out and I’ve never been more satisfied with my own merch. I’m planning on offering her a position in Cloak for her birthday. Make sure not to let that one slip out if you give her a call though.“ He warned half-jokingly.

Bottom line, with that kind of intro, Corpse couldn’t help but let his interest be piqued. And so, he asked for this girl - Y/N’s contact info from Jack before he went to surf through her social media where she thankfully posted plenty of pictures of her creations, never failing to mention specifications in the caption of each picture so the viewers would get the perfect and most detailed idea of how high the standard for her work is.

And so he’s finally managed to talk himself into dialing her number that’s been sitting in his phone for weeks now. As he paces his living room, his nerves chewing him out like a dog would with a toy, listening to the ear piercing ring of the dial waiting to get picked up by the girl he’s trying to reach.

Just then, Corpse’s head turns so that his eyes meet the glowing red numbers on his digital clock on his desk and he damn near hangs up the call right away - it’s half an hour past midnight. Fast as lightning, he removes the phone from his ear, his thumb flying over to press the red ‘end call’ button. Just then, a faint ‘hello’ reaches his ears, coming from the phone’s speaker. She’s answered the call.

He hurries to put the phone back up to his ear.

“Hey, sorry for taking so long to pick up, I ought to clean my desk eventually cause my phone was literally BURIED under a pile of papers.“ A cheerful sing-song voice rattles his stale and sleep deprived consciousness, as if awakening him from a half-dream state. “You’re either a wrong number caller or a last minute client, aren’t you? Need something done urgently?“

Corpse is taken the hell aback by her strong and downright awing first impression. Not to mention her energy at an hour unsuitable for calls. Lord knows he wouldn’t have picked up if her were in her spot. With the intention of not wasting any more of her time than necessary, he hurries to explain his situation. “Y/N, right? Um no, I’m neither actually. I was told about you by a friend, he said you were a real miracle-doer with fashion design.” He trails off for a second, not completely sure of how to hold this conversation, “Uh, sorry for the odd timed call, I lost track of time. I’ve been meaning to call you for hours now but I...I was nervous.” He cringes the second the word leaves his lips, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he wants to leave her with a great, better than realistic impression of himself but he does and as of now he deems his attempts as ultimate failures.

He hears her giggle from her end, rifling through what sounds to be papers, “Yeah, I’m her. And boy is it refreshing to get someone who’s calling with an actual purpose.” She sighs as if a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders, “And don’t worry about the phone call anxiety. Makes two of us, to be honest.”

This catches him off-guard. The last thing he’d expect is for this girl to have phone call anxiety. In fact, she appears to be a natural, God-given talent at carrying conversations and upholding chit-chat with people. Maybe he’s a little too quick to judge - probably, considering he’s ‘known’ her for less than five minutes and knows nothing but her occupation, her name and the state she lives in - but that bubbly persona she greeted him with gave off the impression that it’s immune to any and all kinds of social anxiety - or anxiety in general. To hear such an honest and counter-to-assumptions confession on her part rattles him a tiny bit. In a good way though.

“How does that work for you? Isn’t your whole job depending on your phone conversational skills?“ He doesn’t mind that he didn’t phrase that too perfectly or that he straight up blurted it out. He knows he’ll be understood. She’s obviously a person who understands. Not just something specific, but everything. She simply understands. How he drew this conclusion and how accurate it is, he may not know until further notice.

“Well...“ she sighs as if genuinely looking to give him a proper answer, “You see, after doing it for so long and having been caught off guard quite a few times with some absolutely absurd orders, I’ve grown prepared of literally ANYTHING and I have a line prepared for anything the caller has to say. I just no longer let them catch me off guard and it’s fine. Helps avoid any possible awkward silences.“

Corpse’s eyebrows shoot up, her explanation only raising more questions rather than providing answers. But he’s not gonna be the annoying dumbass asking those questions at close to 1AM and bugging her. After all, if she agrees to this partnership, they’ll be hearing and potentially seeing a lot more of each other soon. “Impressive, honestly. You’re gonna need to teach me sometime.“ He’s unaware he’s smiling until he catches his reflection in the window. However, he doesn’t bother hiding it. This conversation is actually making him feel good, serving as a reminder that he’s not the only one who periodically goes through turmoil over small things.

She giggles again, this time the sound manages to draw a blush out of him, coating his cheeks, “I’d typically stray for revealing my secrets to professional success, but I’m willing to make an exception for you...” she pauses for a second as though she’s just now remembered something, “Oh shoot, I don’t even know your name.”

He wheezes out a nervous laugh, realizing he never introduced him, “Oh yeah, sorry, that’s my bad. My name’s Corpse, nice to meet ya.”

“Nice to meet you too, Corpse.“ Y/N replies, sounding pleased but teasing simultaneously, “Now tell me, you didn’t call me about my phone call secrets, did you? What may be the real purpose of your call?“

Oh shoot, he himself almost forgot what he was calling for. Luckily, the reference designs displayed on his computer screen remind him. “Right, well, I’ve been thinking of launching a new merch line either this month or the next, depending on how long the procedure will take, and I needed someone great on my team to make some merch actually worth the money people are paying for it. And, as I said, I was told you were in that ‘someone great’ category.”

“Told by who, if you don’t mind me asking?“ She briefly cuts him off, her voice now giving away the fact that she’s half-absent-minded in this conversation, added evidence be the ruffling of more papers on her end.

“Jack. I mean, Sean. You know, Jacksepticeye.“ Corpse explains, contemplating whether he should’ve ratted Jack out like that. Hearing the sound of delight Y/N lets out eases his worries ASAP though.

“Oh Gosh, I haven’t seen that cutie in so long! He’s like a brother to me so a friend of Jack’s is a friend of min-“ this time she cuts herself off so abruptly Corpse thought the line was cut or she hung up on him. She doesn’t let him wonder for long though, “Wait, wait, wait....Merch? And you’re friends with Jack?“ She pauses for a second once again, once again not a long enough second for Corpse to speak up. “You’re a famous YouTuber, aren’t you?“

He was completely unaware of the fact Y/N hadn’t realized he was someone famous yet. In fact, he didn’t think of it because he thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to her considering she’s friends with Jack-fucking-septiceye! In his mind, his ranking is far lower than Jack’s - despite that mindset being absurd - so the last thing he expected was for her to have some sort of impressed reaction to have been talking to him on the phone this whole time. Hell, she doesn’t even know his full YouTube name or what kind of content he produces.

“WAIT!“ She shouts urgently, startling him a tiny bit, “You’re Corpse Husband, aren’t you? Oh my God, yes you are, how didn’t I put it together sooner? Ah crap, I really need more coffee for this.“

“No! No, you need more sleep.“ Corpse hurries to correct her but is very clearly ignored or overlapped with the many sounds that are coming from her end, “What are you doing?“

“You’re getting the first rough sketch of a design by tomorrow morning.“ She says, taking a sip of whatever beverage she’s acquired for the purpose of keeping her awake, “You go ahead and get some sleep, I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t worry about it.“

“I’m not worried about the design.“ He hurries to say before she, God forbid, hangs up on him, “It’s 1AM, woman, you need sleep! I don’t need those designs done by tomorrow. Hell, I don’t even need them this week!“

“You don’t, but I do.“ Y/N says, sounding almost breathless because of what seems to be overwhelming excitement, “You don’t get it - I’m designing merch for Corpse fucking Husband! You have any idea how crazy that is?“

“I personally would say it’s underwhelming. I mean, I’m no Pewdiepie, after all.“ He says, now sat at his desk with his free hand rubbing his temple as he stares at the designs he’s pulled up on his screen, ones he probably won’t need given that he’s now working with a professional.

“Oh, shut it.“ She chuckles, “Shut it and get some sleep, ok? I’ll talk to you in the morning.“

“Noooo...“ He leisurely stretches the word, “Tell me, Y/N, do you have Discord?” She clicks her tongue instantly, giving him a signal that the question he’s asked is bordering into the territory of ridiculous. He playfully rolls his eyes, “Alright then, lemme find you. If we’re partnering up on this, we’re both staying up.”

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t fully trust me with this? Like, I won’t be offended, I get it.“ She murmurs in-thought, the sound of clicking evident on her end.

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t want me bothering you and want me to leave you alone?“ He mimics her statement, smirking to himself as he pulls up Discord, knowing he’s already won.

She huffs and tells him her Discord info, quickly adding a small comment, “...but only because great minds think alike. I know we’ll be getting along on this design pretty nicely.”

“Yeah, yeah, right, sure, whatever you say.“ He laughs, “Accept my friend request and let’s drop this phone call.“

“Hey! - um, before we do that, I just wanna say a quick thank you.“ Y/N murmurs quietly, as if half-hoping he doesn’t hear her.

“For what?“ Corpse asks, his brows furrowing, unsure if they’re on the same page about this gratitude.

“For never once triggering my phone call anxiety.“ She admits, “I mean, I know I said I have lines prepared for every conversation scenario possible, but you totally caught me off-guard.“ She giggles a tiny bit, now sounding dangerously close to nervous, “But, not in a bad way, if that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn’t, I need more coffee.“

“No, no, it does!“ He hurries to reassure her, “It really does. And thank you too. Thank you for, you know, tolerating my BS at this hour. God knows I would’ve ignored your call if our roles were reversed.“

He hears her scoff and can’t help but laugh, “Huh ok, I see.“ She says, sounding greatly triggered and mock-pissed at his confession, “I’ll make sure to think of that next time you call me after midnight. Or at all, ever.“

Laughing his butt off, the only thing Corpse can think of in this moment is:

Damn, this girl and I are gonna get along

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goonification · 3 years

Text

yungi smut

[18+] Mingi gets hard before stages and has no idea why. Neither does Yunho but he’s happy to help.

The fast-paced voice of a MC echoed through the hallways over a loudspeaker to introduce the lineup for the night’s show. No one was listening too carefully though to the tinny voice, as the livestream usually only acted as a reminder that, in the same building, the Music Bank stage was soon to be lively with performances for the next 90 minutes. It wasn’t uncommon for the muffled sounds of the host to be overshadowed by the busy chatter of stressed out staff and excited idols, donning various elaborate and colourful outfits.

It was less than an hour until Ateez were supposed to be rounded up and ushered to the wings of the stage, prepared to give the nth performance of their most recent comeback.

While most idols we’re counting down the minutes to their upcoming stages, Mingi was rushing back to his group’s green room, hoping to god it was empty.

He scuttled through the crowds, politely bowing at passing staff and tucking behind ongoing interviews to not draw attention to himself. A lanky, 6ft man with a hand on his crotch lumbering through the background of someone’s acrostic poem segment would be bound to draw the wrong kind of online attention.

Hand grasping the doorknob of their assigned green room with relief, the sounds of the hallways were snuffed with the thick door shutting behind him.

He gave the space a quick once-over, falling at ease when he found it seemingly empty. With the room barren of members or staff, Mingi pressed his back to the door as a makeshift lock and shamelessly dropped his pants below his waist.

This wasn’t an uncommon scenario.

There are plenty of different ways that the human body can react to a stressful situation. Some people overthink to the point of a headache. Others have physical reactions, like shaking or sweating. Some people even feel faint or collapse.

However, Song Mingi got boners. Plain and simple. He doesn’t know why it happens. Often, he doesn’t even know when it’ll happen.

The regularity of stage fright had faded away to a fear of the past. With the exception of the occasional special stage, Mingi typically didn’t get stressed out over every individual performance but, for some godforsaken reason, his body seemed to know what a pre-show countdown sounded like and reacted regardless.

Nervous or not, popping a semi backstage was a shamefully familiar feeling for Mingi. He was well aware that there had been a couple of fancams where his half-hard cock made far more of an appearance than he wanted and, determined to not repeat history if he could help it, intended to try de-escalating his problem before stepping foot on stage this time.

Mingi looked down at his dick, standing fully upright.

It was mocking him.

Frustrated at his situation, Mingi furrowed his brow, scowling at his penis before feeling grateful that no one saw him do that. Nothing like a healthy dose of random horniness to cloud every crevice of his brain with a layer of fog, stopping him from thinking rationally.

He collected his composure with a deep breath, using his knees to pinning his pants at his mid-thigh in case someone entered unexpectedly, and got to work.

A large hand wrapped around the proportionately large shaft and began to pump, so quickly in fact that his whole body lurched forward at the sudden relief. It wasn’t long before his knees instinctively spread and baggy pants fell to his ankles. There was no use picking them back up. Not a minute could be wasted. The door behind him could open at any second. With his very noticeable presence missing, someone was bound to be looking for him to reunite him with his members.

Mingi didn’t know how much time he had. A few drops of spit and a dab of precum was all he could gather as lube, forcing him to slow down his pace to avoid discomfort. Mingi whined. He knew this wouldn’t take long at all if he was back in the dorms with his usual creamy lotion or the constant flow of a soapy shower to keep his length slick.

He could practically hear the threat of a ticking clock in his head. The bustling sounds of people on the other side of the door weren’t helping. The MC’s voice echoed again, saying something about a commercial break, probably the first of several. He was desperate to fix his problem fast and would need to try something different.

A shaky second hand joined the first, holding it steady as his hips took on the task instead. The closed tunnel of his fist stopped the air from drying away his precious moisture, allowing for a more comfortable friction than before.

“Ah-” Mingi couldn’t stop the escape of a single low moan as he fucked his hand, balls slapping against his curled fingers and stretched wrist with each thrust.

It felt good, definitely better. But he was still too distracted. While his new technique was undoubtedly more successful than the first, his brain was still going a mile a minute with the looming reminder of the risk he was taking. His hands were shaking, needing to readjust their grip every few seconds.

Mingi didn’t want to cry; he had just had his makeup done. Yet, still, every shaky slip of his hands was contributing to a growing frustration.

It was becoming more difficult to keep quiet. Mingi was being assaulted with the buildup of both dull pleasure and throbbing pain and needed some way to express it. Small grunts were turning into breathy moans, low and long, to try to keep the sounds contained in the room.

Suddenly, even through welling tears, his eyes caught sight of a slight movement caught in one of the dressing room mirrors. What Mingi assumed were just piles of jackets on a couch began to shift, before he noticed the pant legs of a stage outfit, matching the one Mingi was currently “wearing”, donned on a long set of legs. A pair of large boots stuck upright off the end of the couch.

“You’re terrible at staying quiet.” Yunho’s familiar voice spoke out from under the pile before he threw a heavy jacket off of his head, exposing his tired face in the reflection of the mirror. He was basically eye-level with Mingi’s cock.

“Ah, what the fuck!” Mingi shouted, trying and failing to pull up his pants. In that moment, he silently cursed the stylists for always putting him in the baggiest outfits. He repeated his expletive of choice. “What the fuck were you doing under there?”

Yunho squinted tightly, shaking his head as his eyesight adjusted to the harsh fluorescent light of the room. “I had a headache and couldn’t find the light switch.”

“Oh.” Mingi stood dumbfounded and beet-red. Yunho was as giant as he was and it wasn’t like he was exactly hidden. He mentally scolded himself for not checking the room better before fully exposing himself, accidentally baring his entire cock and balls to his friend.

“I knew you were horny earlier!” Yunho exclaimed, like it was his own personal victory for guessing correctly. “You were all bouncy and quiet during stage rehearsal. Kinda like before you take your extra long showers. Always before the stages too, huh? Why is that?”

Mingi shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. He especially didn’t know that Yunho was so attentive to his behaviour. It made him think back to every time he busted what he thought was a secret nut but maybe he wasn’t so private after all.

It was a lot of information to take in with his pants around his ankles. He had so many questions. Mingi started with an easy one. “Why didn’t you say anything when I came in here? I would’ve stopped.”

“Honestly, I thought you were here to get me.” Yunho was fixing his hair at the mirror, composing himself while stealing occasional glances of Mingi’s cock in the reflection. “At least, until I heard you all -” He mocked the deep timbre of Mingi’s voice and moaned comically. Painfully to Mingi, even the unflattering imitation made his exposed dick twitch. He hoped to god Yunho was too busy laughing at him to tell.

Noticing the shift in posture, Yunho offered some comfort, not wanting his friend to feel too embarrassed. “I didn’t mind. Really.”

“But why did you scare me like that?” Mingi’s embarrassment shifted to anger. Yunho’s logic wasn’t making any sense and Mingi still didn’t have a plan for how he was going to get his dick down.

Yunho avoided the question. “How long until we go on?”

“Huh?” Without context, the request went right over Mingi’s head.

“Fine, I’ll look for myself.” Yunho raised an eyebrow before checking a nearby phone. “Forty seven minutes until our stage? That’s tons of time.”

The tension on Mingi’s face unwravled with a small ounce of relief. The events of what felt like hours of pure frustration likely took place over a mere thirty seconds. He just needed to be reminded.

Still, the reality was that Mingi was rock hard and not as alone as he thought. As one problem disappeared, another became even more prominent. Yunho made his way towards Mingi and the door, hopefully to leave the room, and pretend he saw nothing.

Even in that best case scenario, Mingi wasn’t sure if he could ever recover from the mortification of what just happened.

Wanting to drop the hint and give Yunho better access to the door, Mingi shifted to the side, movement restricted from the pants still pooled around his legs and too ashamed to pick them up.

However, Yunho didn’t turn towards the door. He instead turned his attention towards Mingi, who had backed himself into a corner. They were uncomfortably close considering the fact that Mingi’s lower half was fully nude.

Yunho smiled stupidly as though the confusion on Mingi’s face was unwarranted. “What? You were struggling to get off, right?”

“Yes...” Mingi admitted, still confused over what exactly his friend was doing. “It was that obvious?”

“Believe me, I know what it sounds like when you’re getting off. What I just heard sounded like a struggle to me.” Yunho never broke eye contact with Mingi. There was a glint of joy in his eyes as he explained his thought process, while never actually revealing his intentions.

Everything he said only raised even more questions. So many that Mingi didn’t have the brain capacity to sort through. Right now, he was more curious why Yunho had him cornered in their dressing room.

“Mingi,” Yunho uttered his name as though he was scolding him with endearment. Telling him off for being so apparently stupid even thought Mingi thought his confusion was very much justified. “Do you want me to help you?”

Yunho wanted to jerk him off? Mingi thought he had heard wrong.

On first thought, it would fix both problems at once and still leave time to spare, even if the idea of his friend touching his dick would leave Mingi with a whole new slew of questions to plague him until they got back to their dorms. That is, if Yunho would even want to talk about it.

Mingi was getting ahead of himself. He needed to answer the question first.

He kept thinking, pushing through his stress and arousal to conduct a clear thought. Yunho was handsome. He was always clean and smelled good, and liked holding hands with Mingi. Though his qualifications were sparse, Mingi was almost surprised at just how unopposed he was to the idea of Yunho helping him cum. After all, that’s all it would be, right? A friend helping out a friend.

“C’mon, you’ll feel so much better afterwards. I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Yunho pouted as he got closer to Mingi’s face. He was being sweet. Buttering the other boy up without knowing that it wouldn’t even take any convincing to get him to agree.

If only Mingi could answer the damn question. All he could muster up was the confidence for a moment of warm eye contact and a gentle nod.

It was signal enough for Yunho, who leaned in for a hesitant kiss. Mingi’s puffy lips were already parted and set to lock with his own. As they brushed against each other, Yunho’s tongue peaked out, sliding over Mingi’s bottom lip and making him shudder before dipping inside his gaped mouth.

The gap between them closed even further when the fabric of Yunho’s pant leg accidentally brushed over Mingi’s hard cock, which was poking out and occupying most of the space between them. Mingi moaned into Yunho’s mouth, a gentle reminder that they had a goal to achieve.

“Mmm. No more,” Yunho sighed with regret. He pulled back as Mingi stupidly chased his lips in a daze. “We need to be quick, remember?”

“But you don’t need to see your hands to jerk me off.” Mingi pouted comically, trying to convince him to return to their greedy kiss. He didn’t expect to enjoy kissing Yunho that much and was wondering if it could turn into a hobby of theirs.

Yunho simply chuckled, obviously knowing more than Mingi about his plans for his mouth. After a breathy “huh?” Yunho took the cue to drop to the floor.

Mingi froze. He was expecting a steady hand to help jerk him to completion at the most but this was so much more. The sight of Yunho on his knees, locked upright so he could keep his face raised inches from Mingi’s cock was making his head throb in more ways than one.

He watched as Yunho’s eyes darted around, carefully examining every inch of him as fast as possible. If he knew Yunho was going to be that close and personal with his junk, Mingi would have shaved that morning.

“I knew you were big but, damn.” Yunho’s vision stayed locked on to Mingi’s shaft. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted. He looked just as needy as he felt.

“I mean, you don’t have to go d-” Mingi couldn’t even provide an alternative, let alone finish his sentence before Yunho’s tongue was curling itself around his head, soaking his cock with a sudden warmth. Mingi’s hand flew to the wall, then his thigh and, finally, Yunho's hair, needing to grab a fistful of something to keep him steady.

Yunho tilted his chin, relaxing into Mingi’s touch and exposing the length of his neck towards the ceiling. Still, he stayed connected via his tongue. Mingi gulped loudly at the sight of Yunho’s throat swallowing, which was suddenly looking very empty to him.

The soft stimulation prompted beads of creamy white to escape from Mingi’s cock, directly onto the flat surface of Yunho’s tongue. He moaned at the taste and vibrations surrounded Mingi’s stirring cock head. Embarrassingly and against his will, Mingi pushed forward a bit, cock sliding across Yunho’s tongue and spreading the pre-cum all over the wet muscle.

“Sorry.” Mingi sheepishly apologized as he returned his hips to where they were before but, to his surprise, Yunho bobbed his head. He artificially repeated the motion over and over until the entirety of the cock’s head was trapped inside Yunho’s mouth. His tongue was running indulgent laps as it circled the pulsing tip.

Mingi was a panting mess. He wasn’t sure if he should speak. Should he tell Yunho how it felt? Would that be too much?

It was then that Yunho’s gaze flickered up to make eye contact with Mingi. His eyes were glossy as though he was stuck in that moment. Mingi’s stomach did a flip at the sight. He was waiting for Mingi’s approval.

“It feels good, you know?” Mingi whispered as the fist in Yunho’s hair released to scratch at his scalp. Mingi didn’t exactly sound confident but Yunho could tell the words were genuine considering how the other boy was falling apart above him. The upper half of Yunho’s face lit up with a would-be smile at the praise.

Meanwhile, his mouth stayed open wide, lips surrounding Mingi’s cock with a gentle suction, before pushing forward slowly. Yunho didn’t look away, not even once, as Mingi watched his cock disappear inch by inch inside his friend's mouth.

“Jesus, Yunho...” He hissed as more of his shaft was coated with the slippery friction from Yunho’s spit.

Yunho was only two inches from fully swallowing Mingi’s cock before he came to a halt. As he paused, he shifted with discomfort on his knees. The breathing from his nose became more erratic, puffs of warm air bouncing off of Mingi’s pelvis. It was clear he had reached his limit. Even while he couldn’t get Mingi’s dick all the way down, his determination was admirable. Cute, even. It was especially impressive considering Mingi presumed it was Yunho’s first time doing this.

Mingi dropped his hand to fall behind Yunho’s ear, rubbing his neck with a long thumb. Not experienced with dominant dirty talk, he merely offered a simple smile to let him know it was okay to retreat.

When Yunho began to pull back, Mingi caught sight of a bulge in his throat deflating as his dick reappeared. The thought of being that deep inside any of Yunho’s holes made him shudder with excitement.

Less than a second of the cold dressing room air had cruelly returned before Mingi’s dick was throbbing with need again. The shaft was a reddened, slobbery mess as Yunho cupped him against his hands before returning his mouth to the leaking tip.

Now, when Yunho bobbed down on the cock, his movements were more confident, knowing his limits and puffing up with pride over his abilities. Once he reached the checkpoint, he twisted two slippery hands over the base to make up the difference, fully covering Mingi’s large cock in one way or another.

This time, when Yunho pulled back, he tried sucking in his cheeks. He was so concentrated on making Mingi feel good, eyebrows furrowed in a way Mingi would’ve thought was adorable had the air not been just knocked out of his lungs by the new sensation of suction inside Yunho’s mouth.

Yunho never let the tip leave his lips before taking the entire shaft deep into his mouth again, producing extra spit only to suck it up again when he pulled back. It was clear he was enjoying himself discovering his newfound talent.

Not as much as Mingi was enjoying himself.

The feeling was unlike anything Mingi had ever experienced. Yunho’s mouth was like being surrounded by an always-moving, sopping-wet warmth. The boy on his knees took the term ‘sucking’ dick very literally. Wet and sloppy sounds echoed through the tiny room as Yunho slurped at his cock.

Mingi was fully collapsed against the wall at this point, fighting gravity to keep himself standing. His moans were deep, guttural and spurring Yunho to move even faster, knowing that Mingi must be close.

He was. Mingi was seconds away from cumming and already panicking over where he was going to finish. As pretty as he would be covered in streaks of white, Yunho was already in his stage clothes and makeup, ruling out that option. Alternatively, it wasn’t like Mingi could just leave a puddle of his release on the green room floor. The clock was ticking and Mingi didn’t have any alternatives left.

Yunho, more intuitive than Mingi was aware of, must’ve sensed his panic. He looked up at Mingi as though he was trying to tell him something, eventually slowing his neck’s momentum to a standstill and grabbed his attention.

As Mingi’s eyes were full of panic, Yunho eased his fears with a small nod of approval, motions mostly restricted by his throat accommodating the deep curve of Mingi’s cock. Yunho’s eyes were glistening with tears but dark with determination. He was ready to let Mingi take over.

Mingi whimpered, clawing at the wall as he realized what Yunho was telling him.

“In your mouth? Are you sure?”

A gurgle escaped from the back of Yunho’s throat as he pushed his limits even further, allowing the cock to sit the deepest it had been. Despite his gagging, his actions were entirely permissive, knowing he wouldn’t have to endure the pain for long before Mingi would finish.

Dormant hips sprung into motion, sliding back at first and dragging his cock along the inside of Yunho’s mouth. Strings of thick saliva followed the path, dripping from Yunho’s bruised lips. Carelessly, Mingi’s ass hit the wall with a thud with how roughly he fucked backwards, making Yunho wince in preparation for him to return.

When his hips snapped forward, it wasn’t as bad as Yunho expected. Sure, Mingi was rough in his desperation but the slickness of collected spit gave the cock a smooth re-entrance past Yunho’s lips, into his mouth, and down into his raw throat. Yunho couldn’t help but moan as he felt himself loosen up to accommodate, hoping that the sound got concealed beneath the low sounds of Mingi’s own pleasure.

Mingi fucked his willing mouth again and again, inching just a little deeper each time whether he knew it or not.

“Yunho. Feels good.” Mingi grunted out, unable to conceive proper sentences as his vision was flashing white with fast growing pleasure. “So good. Fuck.”

With the added motion of Mingi’s thrusts, those final two inches that he couldn’t quite conquer seemed like a task from forever ago, Yunho’s throat gladly opening itself up to accommodate until Mingi’s cock was buried completely. It wasn’t long until his nose was bumping against a set of abs.

Ready to be emptied, Mingi’s heavy balls smacked against Yunho’s chin with each greedy snap of his hips. It should’ve been humiliating but Yunho found himself arching into the motions. It felt good to have Mingi use him.

Yunho kept his needy gaze up at Mingi, watching the way his mouth fell agape and the muscles in his jaw clenched. His chest was heaving as he got closer and closer to completion. The sight inspired Yunho to work through the increasing soreness to help Mingi succumb to his pleasure.

“Ah!” Mingi yelled loudly and abruptly, followed by several softer stutters. His hips suddenly began to jerk in a rhythmless pattern he couldn’t quite control and then the first hot spurt of cum splashed against the back of Yunho’s throat. The second erupted into the cavern of his mouth as Mingi fell back further, shaking with pleasure.

Yunho hollowed his cheeks, not allowing Mingi to retreat any more and trapping the twitching cock inside his mouth. He sucked deeply and used the rest of his energy to relax the entire length of his throat and milk Mingi’s shaft until he was empty.

Mingi’s head fell back in awe as Yunho’s tongue lapped every last drop of cum that emerged from the hole on his tip. He was going above and beyond at this point, the aftershocks of Mingi’s orgasm already starting to subside.

“You can stop if you want.” Mingi’s voice was shaky, hoping Yunho wouldn’t take him up on the offer. The gentle warmth felt nice against his softening cock, easing him back to reality gradually instead of all at once.

“Mm, I probably should, shouldn’t I?” Yunho croaked out against his dick, giving the tip one final kiss before letting it fall limp against Mingi’s thigh.

They paused for a brief moment to catch their breath. Mingi dropped a hand to Yunho’s shoulder, giving it a soft massage as a thanks. “Are you okay?”

Yunho tried to answer but, at first, the words got caught on their way out. Clearing his throat, Yunho choked out a laugh at the discovery of how raw his throat was. “It’s a good thing I didn’t plan to sing live tonight.”

Mingi giggled at the half-joke before yanking up his oversized pants, needing both hands to hold the flowy fabric up so they wouldn’t fall again. Kindly, Yunho helped him tuck the now satisfied cock away before zipping up his fly.

“You know you might have less of a problem if you just wore underwear?” Yunho poked roughly at the downsized but still prominent bulge in Mingi’s pants.

“But it’s uncomfy.” Mingi whined, clearly more willing to go the lengths of jerking off before a performance rather than just wear another layer. Tired and needing to conserve his energy, Yunho rolled his eyes and found another spare phone to check the time. He clicked on the homescreen with little care for the fact that one of their fellow member’s phones was currently being contaminated with Mingi’s dick particles.

“Was that really only ten minutes?” Yunho’s eyes widened at the screen and Mingi went red in the cheeks. “Guess I’m pretty good at that, huh?”

“Yeah. You could say that…” Mingi nodded, getting shy again as the realization set in that his best friend’s lips were just around his cock and they were already back to business as usual. That is, if they didn’t count how disheveled they both looked from the aftermath. Mingi ruffled his hair back to look as close as possible to how the stylists left it.

Not having too much time to dwell on what their new experience meant for their friendship, a loud knock on the door made both boys jump out of their skin. The knock was only a warning as the hinges creaked and the door swung wide, trapping Mingi behind it.

Panicked and then relieved, Mingi stumbled against a plastic knob on the wall, the room falling into darkness just in time for someone to enter the doorway.

“Yunho, are you in here?” Hongjoong’s voice carried through the small room until he saw Yunho by the mirror, hopefully only looking like he woke up from the best nap of his life and nothing else. Definitely nothing else…

“Hey, what are you doing in the dark?” Luckily, he couldn’t see Mingi. His voice continued. “And why are you on my phone?”

Mingi cringed when Hongjoong snatched the phone back and placed it on the counter. He thankfully had no idea where Yunho’s hands had just been and he would probably never find out.

“Just checking the time.” Yunho replied nonchalantly, rubbing at his jaw.

“Yes, we’re on soon!” Hongjoong sounded excited. Enthusiastic about even the task of coraling up his fellow members for their performance. He seemed too distracted to notice Yunho dabbing away at his lips to clean himself off.

He patted Yunho on the back for encouragement before turning to leave out the open door. “Can you find Mingi on your way back too? We don’t know where he is.”

“Sure thing, Hyung!” Yunho did a goofy salute, playing the clueless role with ease as he bid Hongjoong farewell out of the room. The door slammed shut, leaving both Yunho and Mingi in the pitch dark.

“Hey Yunho,” Mingi whispered loudly, as though the darkness would make it harder to hear.

“Hm?” Yunho’s boots squeaked as he turned to face the voice.

“I think I found the light switch.”

#my hand slipped or something idk!!!#ateez fic #ateez smut #yungi #mingi x yunho #yunho x mingi #mingi #yunho

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wheezyandchesterwrite · 3 years

Text

Daydreams and Tickles ~ Ruby Martinez

Summary: You get distracted while Ruby rambles.

Word count: 3.3k

Pairing: Ruby Martinez x Fem!Latina!Reader

Warnings: Tickling, Kissing, Suggestive dialogue (Innuendos, dirty jokes, etc) If we missed something let us know!

A/N: Hiya, it’s been a while, we are going to try to post at least a monthly one shot, but won’t make any promises. Hope you all that read this enjoy this!

You were awoken by the sound of notifications going off loudly. You stirred around on your bed, trying to ignore the cacophony of dings your phone kept emitting. Groggily, you made a mental note to silence your phone from now on. When you could finally look at the screen without it blinding you, you scrolled through the seemingly endless string of texts Ruby had sent to the group chat, “The Gnomies”. Yes, Jamal came up with it. Yes, everyone tried to change it, but he just kept changing it back so they gave up. You groaned as you read the messages. ‘Be here at one on the dot,’ the last message read, ‘mandatory meeting’. That was less than half an hour from now. Lazily getting out of bed, you started getting ready. After brushing your teeth and making your hair look somewhat presentable, you threw together an outfit that resembled a picture you had seen on Pinterest after looking up ‘grunge aesthetic’. You liked trying out different styles constantly, feeling like every single one of them suited you, but none of them could get you to commit to them for more than a month. Satisfied with the way you looked, you left your room, grabbed your keys and skateboard, and started to skate your way to Ruby’s house. Midway, though, you decided to take a detour and get some food—junk food, to be precise—knowing that you would not be able to handle a hyperactive Ruben on an empty stomach.

You left the joint with two bags full of food, hoping bribery would get you out of being lectured by Ruby about punctuality. You balanced the bags on both hands like a scale as you focused on not falling from your board on the way there. Making the last turn to Ruby’s house, you miscalculated the speed you were going at and had to hop off the board, letting it crash against the curb. Though you fell on your ass, you made sure to hold the food up keeping it safe and sound. Holding both bags in one hand, you retrieved your skateboard and walked up to the door, but it flung open before you could even think about knocking. Ruby stood on the other side with a scowl. You smiled sheepishly, extending one of the bags to him.

“You’re very late! Did you get me fries with that? Also where are the others?!" Ruby said all in one breath.

"First of all, I know I'm late, but I'm sorry to inform you that you are not more important than food.” Ruby scowled and was about to protest, but you kept speaking before he could utter a word. “Secondly, yes, I did get you fries, you impatient goblin. I mean, what do you take me for? A monster?” You pretended to be offended, but Ruby simply looked annoyed by the dramatic display. “Just know that when I win my first Oscar I will not be thanking you, Ruben.”

“Yeah, yeah if you say so—also don’t call me that. Can you get to the most important question now?”

“Damn, someone hasn’t had their daily handy.” You laughed in astonishment, amused by how much irritation Ruby had in him.

“Seriously, Y/N, this is serious!” His voice raised an octave, causing it to crack, and you had to bite back a laugh.

“A la jaula, bestia, a la jaula,” you began, laughter causing your words to come out like wheezes. Ruby spared you one death stare, and you somehow found your composure. “Look, I have no idea where everyone else is. I, honestly, thought everyone was already here and that you were waiting on me.”

“So, you thought they were here and didn’t think to bring them food?” Ruby questioned.

“Do I look like I have enough money to feed todos esos trogloditas? I brought you food with hopes of getting out of the ‘Punctuality Lecture’, but seeing as they aren’t here, guess that spares me.” You dropped the skate on the entryway, pushing past Ruby to sit on the couch.

“And here I was beginning to think you favored me from the rest.” Ruby sighed with disappointment before raising his voice dramatically. “When in reality, it was just BRIBERY!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking once more as he fake sobbed while clutching the food. You clapped as you opened your food, ready to dig in.

“Damn, man, I better watch out, otherwise you’re probably going to win that Oscar before me,” you said as you began stuffing your face.

“Are you calling me dramatic?” He placed his free hand over his heart.

“Oh, without a shadow of a doubt, now sit down and eat.” With your fork, you pointed at him then towards the couch. Instead of sitting, he started pacing around the coffee table, and you watched him as you munched on your sandwich and fries. He stopped for a second to place his bag of food down, yet he didn’t sit down to eat it. He kept going around the small table at a pace too quick for your eyes to keep up without feeling dizzy. “Wow, man, slow down. Me mareas con tus vueltitas.” He only huffed. “Ruben, seriously, I did not buy that for you to let it go to waste. At least breathe and stress eat.” He whipped around at the mention of his full name.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” he reminded you exasperatedly. “Anyway, I can’t eat right now. I have many thoughts whirring in my brain, and it’s making me sick. Do you know why I called you guys here? Well, if you’re here, you must have read the messages—” Ruby was rambling on and didn’t even stop in between sentences to take a breath so you cut him off.

“RUBEN!” He ceased all movement so abruptly that a skid mark could’ve possibly been seen in the spot where he stopped. “Could you get to the point,, please? You’re making my head hurt.” You completely ignored his previous statement and pressed the tips of your fingers to your temples. Rolling his eyes at you he sat on the other end of the couch and took his food out. After a few angry munches, he turned to face you, the grease of the food that was plastered on his mouth drawing your attention to his lips.

“Alright, since the others aren’t here yet, I’ll just start telling you my new ideas for income.” He stopped eating and started chattering and chattering and chattering…

You don’t know when it happened, but at some point, he stood up and began pacing around the living room again. You stopped listening about half an hour into his ramble, zoning out and staring blankly at him. Your mind got the best of you, and you started to remember why you liked Ruby. What brought this on? You didn’t know. Maybe it was how much passion he put into his pointless arguments, or maybe even that you found it totally adorable that he was practically unable to lie because he would start sweating like a pig on a stick. Maybe it was the way he smiled at you, the tendency he had to correct everything you said matter-of-factly, or maybe it was his dangerously absurd perfectionism. It could be one of his many qualities, good or bad, you didn’t care. Your eyes trailed to his lips once more. They were so full and pink it was hard not to stare—slightly chapped too, but that wasn’t a problem to you. You imagined running your thumb over them, pulling them close to yours and then just crashing them together. Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought of you and Ruby making out. It wasn’t an uncommon thought of yours, seeing as you’ve been dreaming about it happening almost every night since you discovered what hormones could do.

There was always Cesar, you thought. He was the “face” of the group after all, but that got to his brain sometimes. Nothing more dangerous than a cholo who’s aware of his good looks. You grimaced slightly. Cesar’s ego was one of the many reasons why you never developed an emotional nor carnal liking to the boy. You’d rather leave him to Monse, plus you wouldn’t dream of getting caught in the middle of their toxic and manipulative games. But that’s beside the point. You were abruptly brought back to reality by Ruby waving his hands in front of your face, occasionally snapping his fingers. Shaking your head to shake out the thoughts, you noticed Ruby was now standing on top of the coffee table, being careful not to step on either of your foods.

“PAY ATTENTION TO ME, (Y/N)!” Ruby whined. You held back a chuckle at how funny he looked. His small body barely added to the coffee table’s weight. Deciding to play it cool, you shrugged nonchalantly.

“What’s your fuzz? I am listening to you. Have been for the past hour and a half.”

Ruby squinted his eyes at you. “No, you weren’t. I know that face. You were very deep in your thoughts. What’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours?” You freaked internally.

He’s onto us, you told yourself. “Yes, I am onto you, (Y/N), that’s why I asked. Keep up.” He looked at you like you were stupid. Wait how did he—Can he read my mind? Blink twice if you can read my mind. Ruby blinked twice, and you felt like a rock dropped in your stomach.

“Oh shit,” you whispered under your breath.

“Before you throw up on my couch, I’ll have you know I can’t read your mind. You were just speaking out loud.” You threw yourself backwards unto the couch, grabbing a pillow to cover your face. After making a mental note to slam your head against the nearest wall later, you decided you were not going to make a further fool of yourself.

“I wasn’t not paying attention; I was just—”

“I am the king of bad excuses, babe, so spare me your lies.” You blushed at the nickname and prayed he wouldn’t notice. “Now since there is obviously something more important on your mind, speak,” he demanded.

You weighed your options. You could either try to lie and hope he’d let you off the hook, which was not likely, or you could tell him the truth and risk your friendship being awkward from now on if he didn’t feel the same way—and with your luck he most likely didn’t. A few more silent seconds passed before Ruby spoke once more, “Don’t make me take drastic measures on you, (Y/N). I will have no mercy.” He eyed you with determination. You scoffed in disbelief.

“What could you possibly do to torture me, Ruben?” You mocked him, stretching out his name. Ruby smirked.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” He jumped from the coffee table, landing on top of you and successfully pinning you to the sofa. You giggled and tried to get away from his grip, but it was surprisingly strong. Ruby chuckled at your failed attempts to break free. “Now, you’re going to tell me what I want to know, or else,” he brought his lips close to your ears, “you’ll pay for it with your melodious laughter.” Your eyes widened in realization as his words sank in.

“No, not the tickles,” you begged him playfully. He nodded while mischievously smirking.

“One last chance, are you gonna talk?” You shook your head.

“In your dreams,” you defied.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” In seconds, his hands went to your sides and laughter erupted from your throat in loud cackles.

“Stop, Ruby—Stop!” you tried to articulate between laughs. He shook his head no.

“Not until I get what I want.” He said between laughs as well, since in retaliation, you had managed to start tickling him as well. The sound of his own laughter mixed with yours was like music to your ears.

“N—Never!” You still mutinied. His fingers only increased their pace and not in ways you’d like. Your stomach was starting to hurt and you were running out of breath, leaving you with just one option. Well, it was now or never.

“I WAS THINKING ABOUT KISSING YOU,” you blurted; his movements ceased, “I have been since we were in middle school.” You closed your eyes, concentrating on catching your breath. Ruby released you and got off of you, running his hands through his hair in deep thought. You sat up and covered your face with your hands. “This is going to be so awkward now,” you muttered through your hands but it came out like an incoherent jumble of sounds. You moved your hands to sneak a peek at Ruby. Your muffled words didn’t even faze him.

“Ruby?” You looked over at him. His eyes met yours, and he struggled to bite back a laugh. Great, you thought, he thinks I’m a joke now.

“About time.” He grumbled and sighed.

“What?” You were very confused. What could he possibly mean by that?

“I said ‘about damn time,’ (Y/N).” His suppressed laughs turned to a shy grin. Still confused as ever, you tried your best to gather your thoughts and form a coherent sentence.

“Wait, YOU KNEW?” You felt sick to your stomach now. All this time, you thought you had been successful at keeping your feelings hidden and sealed away, but now it turns out even he knew.

“Well, yeah, I’ve known for a couple of months now.” He shrugged it off as if it were obvious.

“Months?!” This was unbelievable. You abruptly stood up and faced him, hands on your hips. “So, you’ve known for months and you didn’t think for one second to tell me? At least, have the decency to confront me, damn it.” You found yourself feeling dumbfounded, feeling toyed with. Ruby reached out to you, holding on to your forearm and pulling you back to sit on the couch. You let him.

“Cesar and Jamal implied it once during one of our guy’s nights, and ever since then, I kind of started paying more attention. Ergo, leading me to the conclusion that you liked me,” he explained. “If it makes you feel any better, the clues to your feelings were very subtle so, I would have probably never noticed if it hadn’t been brought up.” Ruby was trying his best to cheer you up, but you still felt extremely embarrassed by the fact that your secret crush wasn’t so secret.

“Why would they even bring that up, in the first place?” you questioned, annoyed.

“Well, I may or may not have made a comment about how I thought I was starting to develop feelings for you and the guys just jumped on that and told me that you liked me too,” Ruby admitted shyly, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“So, if you like me back, then why didn’t you say anything or make a move when you figured out I actually felt the same way?” You felt bad for interrogating him like that, but you were in dire need of answers.

“I just didn’t know how to bring it up, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have known how to say I liked you back without, probably, choking on my own saliva.” He chuckled lowly, afraid that if he laughed too loud, he’d set you off again. “You know I’ve never been good with the ladies, (Y/N).” You grimaced at the memory of all of Ruby’s failed love attempts.

“Well, you already knew I liked you—it was a matter of saying three words, eight letters,, and I would’ve been yours months ago.” You pushed his shoulder playfully, the anxiety and embarrassment you had felt washing of and making room for the still-settling realization of having confessed your feelings. Ruby leaned back into you, your legs brushing, causing you to take notice of your proximity. Your hands fell upon each other’s, and you looked up to meet his eyes. You started leaning in, maintaining eye contact as you got closer.

“Ruby,” you started, but he shook his head.

“Don’t think, act,” he said as he grabbed the back of your neck, crashing your lips together. All your late night fantasies crashed at once, the real thing surpassing each and every one of them. Kissing Ruby felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies got loose in your stomach—it felt like your heart alone was running a marathon. Kissing Ruby was soft and messy, your lack of experience shining through-. Ruby kept pressing himself to you, making sure there was absolutely no space between you. You had to resort to lying down, pulling Ruby on top of you, not once breaking the kiss. Due to the new position, one of his hands made its way to rest on your waist and the other cupped your cheek. Your hands around his neck were pulling him impossibly closer, and in that moment, your body felt like it was exploding with fireworks, warm all over. You didn’t break away until you needed to breathe, a goofy smile plastering itself on your face. Ruby held the same expression as you as he looked down at you. As you started leaning in for another kiss, the door burst open. You pushed Ruby off of you, causing Ruby to fall on the ground with a thud.

“Uh, what’s going on here?” Jamal asked.

“Told you guys it would work.” Cesar had the biggest, cockiest smirk on his face. You and Ruby shared a confused look and stared back at the very late rest of the crew.

“Yep, just like you said. A couple of hours alone, and they were all over each other.” Monse said, trying her best to refrain from laughing.

“I think our little man, Ruby, just popped his cherry.” Cesar wiggled his eyebrows. Monse’s eyes widened and she broke down laughing.

Irritated enough, you finally spoke up, “Slow your roll, Little Spooky, we’re not like you and Monse.” You shot at him defensively, and Monse choked on her laughter. “No offense,” you added, not wanting to stir up any drama.

“None taken,” Cesar assured. Ruby got off the ground and reclaimed his seat beside you.

Leaning over, he whispered, “Why can’t we be like them?”

“Keep it in your damn pants, Ruben.” You nudged his side and he raised his hands in surrender.

In retaliation, though, Cesar sat between you and Ruby. You shared a look of annoyance before Cesar asked, “Are you going to finish that?” referring to the forgotten leftover cluttering the small table.

“Go crazy.”

“Suit yourself,” you and Ruby at the same time.

As Cesar dug in Jamal spoke up, “Can we just skip to the part where Ruby yells at us for being late and starts talking non-stop?”

“No, man, not today.” Everyone looked bewildered. “Cesar why don’t you take that home? Yes, okay, bye,” Ruby dismissed him.

“Wait, woah, the hell man?” Cesar questioned as Ruby used all his might to get him off the couch.

“You can all come back tomorrow, on time, and we’ll talk about my idea.” He said shooing them all away.

“Are you freaking serious?” Monse got angry quickly.

“Hey, not my fault you decided to play cupid and be late on purpose.” Cesar, Jamal, and Monse shared looks of pride at Ruby’s statement. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some wasted time to make up for with my new girlfriend so, bye!”

“Whatever you say, man,” Cesar said as he opened the door with one hand, the leftovers in the other. When Jamal and Monse were outside he said, “Just remember sin gorrito no hay fiesta.” He immediately shut the door after himself, but that didn’t stop Ruby and you from yelling after him.

“Fuck off, Cesar!” You both yelled with smiles on your faces as you looked at each other. With everyone else gone, Ruby cupped your cheek once more and tenderly kissed you until you had to head back home. That night you slept peacefully, no longer having to dream and wonder about how kissing Ruby would feel like.

Taglist: @steveisherdaddy @apotatoinabigfield @xlostinobsessionsx @izjustafaze @yourlocalwhitemanwhore

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glorified-red · 3 years

Note

What would the batboys be like as wingmen? Rank them best to worst.

Thank you for the request!

Batboys as Wingmen

word count: 1180~

warnings: none

My thumb is almost healed you guys :))) Just a lil sore

Jason Todd

Jason is a closeted hopeless romantic

Home boy reads Shakespeare in his free time and probably has a collection of young adult books

So its pretty obvious that if you need to woo someone, Jason has a few tricks up his sleeve

He will easily slip into the role of ‘sarcastic wingman that makes you look good’ or the ‘sarcastically witty best friend’

He can see you ogle from across the room, its not hard to trace your stare to the person of interest

Tap your foot and tease you about the possible suitor, when you express blatant interest he won't hesitate to give it to you straight

If he knows the person (say its one of his friends) he’ll give you pointers and tips about what they’re into

If he doesn't know the person, give him a few minutes to scout scare them out

From there he will give you no bullshit

Tell you the ups and downs of the suitor and things he’s picked up on

“Really Y/n? Them? Their shirt collar has a stain on it.”

“I wouldn't. They ordered a Jager Bomb, they probably have a shitty tattoo on their ass.”

He has decent pep talks

Sounds like a tired football coach who is one season away from retiring, but decent nonetheless

“Don't slouch like that they’re gonna think your spine is broken.”

“Just go out there and try your best, but if you don't come back with a phone number you have to pay the tab.”

Will laugh his ass off if you fail and will tease you about it endlessly

But if his teasing crosses the line or you're really bummed out about the failed attempt, he’ll treat you to ice cream and maybe go on a tangent about how stupid they are for denying you anyway

Dick Grayson

Dick knows exactly what to tell you for a confidence boost

He can go on about how great you look or how amazing you are for hours until you have just the right amount of pizazz to go woo the suitor

Has the best eye for possible people of interest

“How about them? They have a really good sense of style.”

Nudging your shoulder to make you look at someone because they have pretty hair or eyes

When introducing his friends he’ll always hint at the fact that you’re “single and ready to mingle” with his Dick Grayson charm

Gives perfect advice on how to flirt and will offer to teach you *cough* @internalsealpanic *cough*

Would love to help you get dressed up whenever you see the certain someone

But he’ll always pester you about when you get to see them next

“You should invite them! It’ll be a perfect opportunity or you two to, you know.”

Slap his shoulder please

Has great pep talks, like the soccer mom who brought everyone participation cupcakes and is a little too passionate about their kid sitting on the bench the whole game

If things go south or get too embarrassing for you, he’ll swoop in and rescue you with his charm and make everything flow back to normal until you can slip away

He’s the best at cheering you up if it goes terribly wrong

The worst part about him being the wingman though that places him under Jason, is the fact that he will accidentally make the person of interest fall for him

Without fail, if he’s sitting next to you or standing beside you, he’ll accidentally connect with the person more than you do, so have fun with that

Make him sit somewhere else

Damian Wayne

Damian is unintentionally a decent wingman

He gives solid advice on how to woo someone but it usually stems from body language

“Mirror their posture, it shows interest and respect.”

“Do not stand like that, you look pigeon-toed.”

The definition of helicopter wingman

Whether the person is at the Manor or you’re at a bar, Damian will be your shadow all day just to keep the other person in line

Honestly he might terrify the person of interest if you don't shoo him away

If you shoo him away he’ll stalk, there's no stopping Damian from watching out for you

One look and Damian will step in between you two and ask the suitor to leave, no questions asked

He can guide the conversation into better topics to avoid awkwardness but he prefers to listen so he won’t talk very much so when he does, that’s when you know it’s getting bad

He won't bother giving you a pep talk, his version of a pep talk is to just tell you to go up to them

“You find them attractive, no?” , “I do but I’m not just gonna start the conversation like that.” , “Why not? I see no problem with being blunt about your infatuation.”

Don't chicken out

Don't do it

Damian will take it as a challenge

He will walk up to them and tell them himself, drag you blushy ass himself if he has to

If you fail he is pretty decent at cheering you up in his own way, usually ends up dissing the other person but at least he won't bring up the failed attempt ever again

Tim Drake

Takes him forever to even become a wingman, Jason and Dick jump at the chance and Damian is unconsciously one

Tim just thinks its a waste of time

“Why waste time flirting when you can go to Subway with me instead.”

“I have leftovers at home that I’d rather eat than sit and watch you attempt to flirt.”

Completely make you second guess wanting to flirt or talk to the person

He gets second hand embarrassment way too easily to be a wingman

He will let you suffer just so he doesn't have to intervene when it gets too humiliating or awkward

Will sit in the corner of the room and play on his phone just to avoid that scenario

Shoot him a certain look or an sos and he’ll step in (won't be too thrilled about it cuz ew people) because he’s not heartless

Be prepared to compensate though, food or quality time usually does the trick

Once you two get back to the Manor, Tim will cheer you up with playing some video games or doing self care to destress from the excitement

Makes you a whole plan to execute, whether you two are at a bar or the suitor is a coworker

It's on Google Slides....it has 34 steps

The best at giving coworker advice since he knows how to keep things discreet

“Where that shirt, draws more attention to you.”

He’ll give you a script for every possible situation and if you ask, he’ll make flashcards because the small task will give him a relaxing break from cases

Will offer to run through the script with you or give you pointers on flirting but he’ll get flustered easily and he’s not too good at flirting in general

“Yup, thats good” , “I literally just said ‘hey’ " , “Your point?”

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@bungunz

@red-hood-redemption

@missredrobin

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seijorhi · 4 years

Text

Nothing Fucks with My Baby

The (not so) long awaited Hitman AU 👀

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

TW Blood, minor violence, referenced/implied murder, stalking, implied kidnapping

Iwaizumi has one rule. No kids.

They could be the damn antichrist for all he cares, if they’re underage, they’re off limits. Anyone else is fair game - kind old ladies, rich corrupt businessmen, housewives, politicians. He doesn’t give a shit so long as he gets paid, and paid well.

You were fair game.

He never cares why. Iwa has better things to do than listen to meaningless justifications and vendettas. They make no difference either way - he’s being paid to kill, so he’ll kill, ruthlessly and without prejudice. All he wants is a name, a picture and whether or not they want brains splattered on pavement or something a little more refined. An address doesn’t go astray, but he’ll work with what he’s got, it’s the reason he can charge a fucking premium.

But you… you weren’t what he expected. He’s used to filth. Liars, cheaters, bottom of the barrel trash. Every once in a while some poor idiot gets caught up in something they don’t understand and ultimately pay the price for it, but good people don’t often end up in files splayed across Iwaizumi’s desk. He’s not used to innocence, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re as close as they come.

He supposes that things might have been different if they’d wanted you dead quickly.

Publicly.

But they didn’t want that. They wanted you to disappear without a fucking trace. It wasn’t a kindness - it just meant more work for him. It meant that instead of staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle perched in the window of an empty apartment across the street from yours, he’d have to get his hands dirty.

If you want somebody to blame, sweetheart, why don’t you start with them?

In hindsight, he probably didn’t need to go inside the little coffee joint you worked at. He could lie to himself and say that it was an excuse to get closer to you, to see if you had friends at your work who might try and get in the way, but the simple truth was that he’d been up since four in the fucking morning, and he might just have shot somebody out of sheer irritation if he didn’t get a hit of caffeine and soon.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

And it wasn’t like you were going to recognise him. Three days in, and as far as Iwa can tell, you don’t have the slightest idea that you were being watched, much less that the pair of eyes watching belonged to a cold hearted killer.

People tend to be a little more scared when they sense he’s coming - there’s a kind of innate fear that seeps from every pore as they scurry about trying to hide, trying to put off the inevitable - but you, you’re just blissfully oblivious, flitting around with those wide doe eyes like you haven’t got a damn care in the world.

He honestly doesn’t know whether he wants to envy or pity you for that sweet naivety.

Currently though, he’s more concerned with whether or not you can make a half decent cup of coffee.

“I asked for an extra hot latte.”

Or he would be, if the asshole with slicked back hair and an expensive suit hadn’t cut him off just as he was about to step up to the counter to shove the coffee you’d just made him back in your face. He watches your eyes widen for a split second before you smile - apologetic and demure before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it not hot enough?”

The moment the words leave your lips, you all but flinch. Both you and he know that despite the fact you mean them sincerely (which kind of surprises him, considering that if your situations were reversed he wouldn’t have been nearly so generous) they’re a mistake.

The asshole sneers down at you like you’re nothing more than scum on his shoes. “If it was fucking hot enough, I wouldn’t be wasting my time complaining, now would I?”

Even before he found himself dabbling in his current line of work, Iwaizumi never considered himself much of a knight in shining armour. The world’s a shitty place, it’s not his job to go around fixing things and softening blows. He’s not a cold, emotionless bastard, as most people assume, he just has better things to do than run around playing a damn bleeding heart and sticking his neck out for strangers. It’s not his problem and as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t owe anybody shit.

Impassive olive eyes watch as you try and backtrack, apologising again, offering to make him a new drink, explaining that the reason the coffee wasn’t as hot as he wanted was because you were trying not to scorch the milk- for naught.

You in your naive little world don’t seem to realise that the asshole doesn’t actually give a shit about the coffee. He wants a power trip, and you’ve given him the perfect excuse. He wants to yell and scream and stamp his feet and take all of his repressed anger and feelings of inadequacy out on you so that he can feel like a big man. He wants to see you whimper and cry and bow down before him.

It’s pathetic, but Iwa’s content to watch it play out, drumming his fingers against the wallet in his hand, more irritated with the delay in getting his own coffee than the outburst itself-

Until the asshole reaches for his latte.

Iwa’s good at reading people, predicting their movements before they’re even made. It’s a necessary skill in his profession, one that’s saved his skin more times than he can count. He sees the little vein in the asshole’s temple throb, his jaw tighten, and the moment his hand twitches towards the still steaming cup of coffee, Iwa knows that he fully intends on throwing it at you.

He moves quicker than a man of his size has any right to, an iron grip wrapping around the asshole’s wrist, squeezing. He glares, sneering down at the man who all of a sudden doesn’t seem quite so angry, much less imposing.

“Get out,” he hisses.

It’s not a request.

But the asshole either has a death wish or he’s trying to salvage what’s left of his fragile ego, because his beady eyes narrow and he opens his mouth - no doubt to spew more vitriolic bullshit.

Iwa twists.

Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that it sends the man to his knees, whimpering like a kicked puppy, desperate to relieve the pressure on his wrist.

“I said,” he begins, his voice colder than ice, “get out.”

Yet he doesn’t spare the asshole another glance, not even as he releases his grip and the man skitters away like he’s been burned. The cafe is deathly silent, and without even glancing around, Iwa knows that they’ve managed to draw the attention of most if not all of its patrons.

And for once, he doesn’t give a single fuck.

Iwa’s eyes, his attention, all of it is focused entirely on you - on the wide eyed, stunned look on your pretty face. It’s a violent outburst, not nearly close to what he’s truly capable of, but in the quiet little cafe on a dreary Tuesday morning, glaringly out of place.

Will you burst into tears, he wonders. Ignore it, brush it aside and pretend it never happened? Stutter out more apologies for causing a fuss, for making a simple mistake? He somehow doubts you’ll be the type to scold him for it. No, you’re far too meek for that.

You surprise him, smiling slowly instead, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

It’s a far cry from the contrite air you’d graced the asshole with earlier. It’s hesitant, nervous, but it’s very much real, and Iwa finds it difficult to stop the corners of his own lips from twitching upwards in response.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He inclines his head a fraction. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t charge him for the coffee, even when he practically shoves the bills across the counter into your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shyly parrot back at him, and he almost fucking snorts when there’s a warmed chocolate chip muffin waiting with his coffee when it’s ready.

He’s being paid forty grand to make sure you’re dead by the end of the week, and you’re here giving him free muffins. Oikawa would see the humour in that. Of course, Oikawa would have absolutely no qualms in charming the absolute hell out of you seconds before he pulled the trigger. Realistically, he shouldn’t either. It’s his job, nothing personal.

To say he enjoys killing is probably a stretch, but he takes pride in it. Iwa’s good at what he does. It’s simple. Easy - so long as he follows his own rules.

This shouldn’t be any different. You’re cute, he supposes, in an odd sort of way. Innocent.

Endearing.

It shouldn’t have an effect on him.

It doesn’t, but-

He could have killed you two days ago. He’d be willing to bet good money that he could’ve walked right to your apartment, knocked on your door, made up some bullshit excuse on the spot and you would have smiled and invited him right inside.

And it’s not like you’d stand a chance of being able to fight him off.

Over the past few days there have been at least twelve different moments that Iwaizumi could have stepped in and snuffed that pretty little life of yours out without making a fuss and it would have been easy.

But he hadn’t.

There’s a difference between surveillance and stalking - it’s a fine line, a blurred one maybe, but it’s there all the same. After yet another night spent camped out watching you move about your apartment - cooking dinner for yourself, zoning out on the couch and fiddling with your phone while the tv plays in the background before finally curling up in bed in the early hours of the morning - Iwa comes to the realisation that he’s crossed it.

He wonders why it doesn’t bother him like it should.

The next day, he goes back to your little coffee shop. There’s no muffin this time, but your face brightens when he walks through the door and when he goes to pick up his coffee there’s a tiny, bite sized cookie sitting atop the lid.

“Don’t tell my boss,” you whisper, darting a glance back over your shoulder even as another pretty little smile graces your features.

Something unexpectedly warm and pleasant sings through his blood, and this time Iwa allows his own lips to twitch into the faintest hint of a grin in response.

You really are a truly awful judge of character.

Maybe that’s your downfall, that beautiful, naive innocence you just bleed. It’s a wonder that nobody’s come along to take advantage of you, especially when you are so very ripe for the taking.

Well, nobody until him, he supposes.

Iwa doesn’t know for certain why the men who want you dead do, he doesn’t particularly care either, but he does know that whatever their reasons are, it’s not enough.

Neither is forty thousand dollars.

It takes time, more than he’d like, to find the root of it all. It’s messy and he has to call in a few favours from old friends, but Iwa is nothing if not thorough.

He’s never particularly enjoyed killing, but there’s a certain satisfaction he gets from watching the light leave their desperate, pleading eyes knowing that he’s finally done his job. When he comes home, his shirt flecked with blood, his hands still dripping with it and coaxes your stricken, tear stained face up into a lingering kiss, Iwa feels content.

They wanted you to disappear entirely, he made sure that you did.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere fic #my writing #tw stalking #tw blood #tw minor violence & implied murder

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blonde-freckles · 3 years

Text

And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70

He can feel the building begin to shake under his feet before it comes down. He only has a split second to dive under the closest table, with barely a moment to check his surroundings before it happens. The room shakes, windows rattling as the walls come crumbling down around him. It’s all a blur, thick dust clouding his vision. He can hear the screams echoing out across the building before it falls to silence, he’s trapped encased in rubble and dust. He hears the faint squeak of his radio struggling to pick up a channel through the collapse.

He can feel the panic starting to crawl up his lungs as he shifts his weight, so he's no longer holding it all on his knees.

He’s half way through calling in his location when Hailey’s voice cuts off the radio. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell Jay? I thought you were waiting.” He can hear the desperation in her voice as he squeezes his eyes shut trying to control his breathing.

“I’m okay...really, it’s barely a scratch. I’m just a little stuck right now.” He lets out a shaky breath before pulling the radio close to himself, he’s not sure who’s he’s trying to convince, himself or Hailey. “I thought...I thought I could talk him out of it.”

He really thought he could. He thought he had this. There was something about military cases that stirred something up in him, something no amount of hour sin therapy could ever fix. His need to help his brothers. The belief that what they’d seen bonded them in a way that would never be able to be broken, and no matter how many times he got burnt by this belief he never gave up trying.

The radio falls silent but he knows she’s there, he can hear her quiet breaths through the radio. “Fire is on the way Jay.” Her voice is quiet and controlled and in full work mode but all Jay can hear is her quiet breathing. This morning he’d spent the first few minutes of his day just watching her breathe, his arms wrapped so tightly around her, their legs tangled under the soft white sheets as the sunlight filtered through. Their warm little bubble, so safe and secure.

“Help...” A quiet voice breaks out drawing Jay's attention, it’s faint but he can hear it. “Help me please...”

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to work out the direction the pleas for help are coming from. He makes out a small gap in the distruction where the light is filtering in, carefully he reattaches his radio to his duty rig, shuffling down on his stomach, he pulls himself forward through the gap.

A steel beam lays across an elderly gentleman's legs, he looks late 70s maybe, with light grey hair now covered in dust, his hands holding tightly around the beam desperately pushing against it.

“Sir...” Jay jumps into action, crawling faster as he makes his way through the gap. “Sir are you all right?”

His brain kicks into work mode, shutting off any lingering thoughts on not making it out of here alive as he assesses this situation. The mans bleeding pretty heavily, his legs crushed on the beam that might be the only thing stopping him from bleeding out. It’s far too heavy for Jay to lift or even try to shift, instead he manages to use his belt as a makeshift tourniquet.

He calls through the radio, listening intently as Brett comes over the air waves to get an idea of the gentleman’s injuries. When Jay does manage to finally slow the bleeding the radio crackles back to silence and Jay looks down at his blood stained hands, wiping them on his jeans in the hopes the gentleman won’t see just how much there is as he sits beside him.

“You’re a detective you say?”

“Yes...erm sorry I never got your name.”

“Arthur Brady...I would say nice to meet you but...” The man half chuckles as Jay gives him a short nod wondering how he could be so chipper in a moment like this, surely he can feel the extent of his injuries, even if he can't he can definitely see the severity of the situation.

“Whatever you do Jay keep him talking until we get there.”

Bretts words echo in his mind.

“Arthur...Arthur talk to me...tell me what brought you here today.”

Time seems to tick by slowly, the faint crackle of Jays radio fading in and out every so often. Fire had arrived, but it was gonna be a long wait until they could get to them. The building was not on steady ground and the aim was to get as many people out alive as possible, however long that took. Hailey's voice had only come through the radio once more in that time, just to say the bomber's body had been pulled from the wreckage near the exit...he hadn’t made it. In the meantime Jay continues to probe Arthur with more questions in the hope it will keep him awake, but he’s also glad for the distraction that it provides him. Sitting still, having nothing to do...that’s never been Jay's speed. He learns that Arthur was at the bank to get some cash out for his granddaughters 21s birthday, he has two daughters and a son and 6 grandchildren. He was a wedding photographer for 47 years before he retired 10 years ago.

“My wife Katherine...oh she’s beautiful. You know we’ve been married 53 years this year..." Arthur explains as he pulls a worn leather wallet from his top pocket, handing it over. Jay could see the old photo inside, it’s slightly faded but he can make out the image of a bride on her wedding day, the vail thrown back over her hair to reveal her smiling brightly at someone behind the camera.

"So what's the secret to making it work?" Jay questions, his gaze falling back to his own phone and the photo of Hailey that lights up his background. He’d dragged her along on a hike a while back, with the promise of getting doughnuts after. She’d been laughing at something he’d said as the sun went down behind her, making her blonde curls glow and he’d snapped the pic before she’d had a chance to protest.

"Marry your best friend. Marry someone you can laugh with. The kind of laugh that makes your belly ache, and your nose snort. Marriage is hard. Life is harder. There are days when you'll wanna walk but as long as your relationship is buried deep in friendship you'll always find your way. You think you might know someone like that?" Arthur asks with a slight twinkle in his eye as he nods towards the phone in Jay's hand.

Jay nods, a soft smile growing on his face as he runs his thumb across the photo on his screen, handing Arthur back his own photo. “Yeah I think I do...and she’s almost guaranteed to be just outside this building right now, she’s gonna be so pissed at me for being here.”

“I don’t think Katherine will be too happy either...will you...will you tell me about her?...what’s her name?” He nods down towards Jay's phone again.

“Hailey.” Jay whispers softly, he can already see her arms folded across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently on the street, eyes trained on every person emerging from the wreckage. Honestly what he wouldn’t give to hear her knowing tone telling him that she’s sick of hospital waiting rooms right now.

“She sort of came out of nowhere, I wasn’t really looking for anything when we met, actually...there was someone else when we met. I couldn’t even tell you the moment everything changed...trust me I’ve tried to work it out but it’s just like one day she was my partner and friend and the next she was the one person I could never live without. I remember looking over at her years ago and thinking I could lose all this...this job. This job that I’ve let define me for so long but it wouldn’t matter as long as I was with her.”

“Sounds like you’re in deep...How come you’re not married?”

“Oh we haven’t been dating that long...I...we still have some things to figure out.” Jay swallows, if he’s honest he’d marry Hailey tomorrow. He’d have married her six months ago given the chance. As soon as they started dating he knew he couldn’t ever imagine spending his life with someone else. He knew it a week in, he’d come in from an early morning run to find her sitting on the kitchen island coffee cup in hand, his t-shirt hanging loosely on her body as she read the morning news. She’d handed him his coffee without so much as a second glance and he’d known in that exact moment. It had taken everything in him not to get down on one knee right then and there.

Things had changed since their first I love you, he was even more careful with her. He didn’t want her to be overwhelmed, he wanted to help her in any way he could. She was trying, really trying and she had gotten good at letting him know when she felt flustered by their relationship, when she needed space or when she needed reassurance. He was all too happy to comply, he was happy to do whatever it took to make this work.

“Don’t waste time...not with the people you love.” The sad look on Arthur’s face like he’s almost defeated makes Jay think the elder man might be close to giving up as his eyes flicker shut briefly.

“Tell me more about Katherine.” Jay urges, he wraps a hand around Arthur's wrist, checking his pulse as he does. It’s weak.

“She’s the dream. I was a New Yorker you see, born and bread...was only here for a wedding 54 years ago when I saw her through the window of a cafe”

“And you knew right then and there?”

“God no.” Arthur begins to laugh but it turns into him choking as he struggles to catch his breath. “I don’t believe in love at first sight. Love...real true love takes work and a lot of it. You’ve got to choose that person every single day.” He croaks out, his eye sparkling as he recalls the memory in his mind. “What I did know was she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I was a young man at the time, full of a confidence I had no real right having.” Jay chuckles, he’s been there, the cocky confident guy in his 20s thinking he knew it all. “I could never have known the love that would’ve formed, so deep it almost shook me to my core. I’d never been in love before, but I’d seen others, especially in my line of work and then I got it, I got why people behave the way they did. I remember thinking if this is what love feels like I get why it starts wars.” He’s words trail off and Jay watches the way his head drops slightly.

“Hey, Arthur...Arthur we’re almost out you hear me. Stay with me now Arthur. Katherine is waiting, she's still waiting for you.”

“Will you tell her...”

Jay shakes his head furiously. Leaning up as he twists his radio, calling out for an update. “No no...I’m not going to pass on any messages.” He mumbles, grabbing hold of both Arthur’s shoulders. “You’re gonna tell her Arthur...Katherines waiting for you.”

“You tell her I loved her and that she made my world a better place.” He mutters before his eyes roll back and Jay begins to bark down his radio desperate for anyone to respond.

It is only seconds later the loud ringing of a drill sounds and Kelly Severide’s voice echoes around them. Jay can feel the relief flooding through him as the familiar uniform comes into view.

“Jay...” The bright sunlight is a stark contrast from the darkness he’d been buried in the last few hours, the buzz of the scene hitting him is almost deafening as he hears orders being shouted out. “Jay...” Hailey’s voice stands out amongst the noise. As he steps out away from the building, he’s ushered past the destruction zone and he can hear Brett asking him to sit but he’s too focused on finding Hailey as he scans that area.

He hears more commotion behind him watching with bated breath as Arthur is pulled from the rubble, he’s attached to a bodyboard, as the next set of paramedics rush to his aid.

He doesn't even see her approach before he feels her arms wrapping tightly around him, he releases a breath he’s been holding since the building first blew as his arms wind themselves around her waist, he sticks his face into the side of her neck letting the wisps of blonde that’s fallen loose from her ponytail tickle his face as he does. They’ve never been ones for any type of public affection, while they’re on the clock anyway but right now he can’t bring himself to care. He breaks away after a while, already missing her touch but he knows they have an audience. He watches as they lower Arthur down onto the gurney wheeling him their way.

“Is this her...is this your Hailey?” He coughs, struggling as they place the oxygen mask over his mouth.

Jay can see Hailey glance his way, shooting him a silent question. “Yeah, this is her.” Jay nods, crouching down closer to Arthur.

“I’m gonna go get Katherine okay? I’m gonna bring her to you Arthur so don’t go anywhere.” Jay grips hold of Arthur’s hand, making sure the man sees the sincerity in his eyes as Sylvie lets him know that they need to move now. “Take care of my girl and I’ll take care of yours okay?” Jay asks, glancing back at Hailey who’s just watching silently.

“Deal...”

He steps back letting them get him into the ambulance as he turns back to Hailey. He can see from the look on her face she has a lot to say and he’ll happily listen to everything but just not right now. “Hey I’m okay I promise I’m okay and I'll sit and get a full checkout at the hospital just to please you but first I have something to do, please just trust me and keep Arthur company until I get to the hospital.”

“Erm sure okay...”

Jay smiles as she agrees without question, pressing a firm kiss on Hailey's forehead surprising her before he’s rushing off through the crowd without another word.

Hailey loses sight of Jay almost as quickly as she finds him, her heart is still thumping in her chest as she tries to keep reminding herself that he's alive, he’s alive and safe and doing whatever the hell he does. She'd done as he asked, joining the man he'd been pulled from the rubble with into the ambulance.

The ambulance roars into life and she watches as the elderly man begins to pull down his oxygen mask much to the dismay of the newest recruit to 51, his hand shaking as it reaches out for Haileys.

She takes his hand in hers. It’s cold but it squeezes onto hers tightly. She’d heard the tail end of their conversation. “You take care of my girl...I’ll take care of yours.” She’s not sure what Jay has planned but she trusts him, no questions asked.

“That man loves you more than life itself dear.” Arthur croaks and the tears that she refused to let fall in front of all their colleagues finally fall, splashing against her cheeks, his words catching her off guard.

The E.R is a mess, overrun with victims from the blast, no one can tell her anything as Arthur is rushed off for surgery, she’s not family, she has no right to know. So instead she takes a seat in the corner out of the way of the chaos.

She thinks she might be dreaming when he finally emerges through the doors, still dressed in his blood-stained clothes, an elderly woman holding tightly to his arm as he leads her through the crowd and towards the front desk. His eyes find hers quickly like he doesn’t even need to search for her, he just knows where she is and the small smile that plays on his lips as their eyes meet is enough for her.

It’s hours later when Katherine and Arthur are finally reunited. Jay helps Katherine towards his room, stopping in the doorway as Hailey hangs back. She’s still not sure what the infinity with this couple is but she’ll go along with it if that’s what Jay wants.

“That’s gonna be us one day.” He mutters quietly as the door slips shut and he steps back out into the hallway. Hailey raises her eyebrows in surprise as Jay makes his way around her, his arms encircling her waist as he leans his chin on top of her head. Both of them watching the elderly couple through the window. The way Katherine caresses Arthur’s face as he presses a kiss to her hand. The look of pure joy to see each other is so evident in their faces.

“Minus the major bleed and building collapse I hope.” She hums, leaning back into his embrace, finally feeling at ease as the weight of the day seems to slip away.

He nestles his face into her neck, pressing a light kiss to her skin. “I make no promises...”

“Hey...” she laughs, shaking her head as she places her hands on top of his, she can feel his lip quirk up into a grin against her neck and it makes her own lips turn up. “How are we going to grow old together if you keep being so reckless?”

“That’s what you love about me.”

Hailey turns in his arms, slipping her arms around his waist, one hand stroking his back softly. “I assure you it’s not...but I do love you.” She whispers the last part, she still struggles to say the words but each time she does it feels a little easier, like the words that were once so dark get a shade lighter each time she says them or hears them fall from his lips.

She watches as Jay takes a sharp breath, before resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes softly just breathing her in. “I’m gonna say something. It’s not a question it’s just a thought...okay? I’m giving you fair warning for when the time comes.”

Hailey narrows her eyes but nods anyway, letting him pull her to the side as the hallway becomes busier. “I love you...you’re my best friend and...”

“And?”

“And I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Her blue eyes widen for a second and Jay bites down on his lips to stop the smile that comes every time he looks at her. He can see the thoughts whirling through her mind like waves crashing around the ocean. He feels her arms squeeze his waist a little tighter before she simply shrugs. “Okay...” she mumbles , laying her head back against his chest as she turns her gaze back towards Arthur and Katherine. They stand there for a moment in silence and he wonders if she can see what he can...a glimpse at their future. His thoughts are confirmed when he feels her lips pressed to his cheek curling up into a smile against him. “Okay...I’ll marry you one day.”

#Upstead #Upstead fanfic #Upstead oneshot #upstead fanfiction #hailey x jay #jay halstead #jay x hailey #hailey upton #tracy spiridakos #jesse lee soffer #chicago pd fic #Chicago pd #onechicago

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scriptaed · 3 years

Text

his side, her side finale | 00:00

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

No matter how infinite the pages could write itself, in the way that he catches her stealing glances from across the room or the scalding spark imprinted on her hand by the touch of his own, there really are only three versions to every story: his side, her side, and the truth’s side; and in your unsolicited albeit self-justified defense, the truth is, what was once seemingly perpetual is now merely trivial. The imagery that once had you kicking and screaming into your sheets at night, the fleeting moments that were shared by both but valued by one, and the inevitably incessant burden of jealousy brought upon by a fervent want that could never be had could only have been falsified by a break—spatially, temporally, and heartfully. The mind can only tug so much at one’s strings; and yet, to be bent, only time could prove possible.

...and that time is exactly what is needed by all.

her side;

“Are you joining us for dinner tonight, Y/N?”

“Huh? What?” your ears perk at the sound of your friend’s call.

“Oh, there she goes again,” your other friend interjects with the roll of her eyes. You almost collapse when she swings a hand over your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your ears checked?”

“No, but I might have to get my eyes checked,” you joke, despite pulling in all the performance points you could win with a disdainful scan up and down her less than professional attire. Thankfully, your act is gleefully extended by her cheesy gawk of an expression. Putting up a merciful pair of hands in the air, you laugh, “hey, in all seriousness, it’s not my fault you guys keep drooling over boys.”

“Uhuh, so you’re trying to tell us that boy talk is what’s putting you to sleep?” your friend’s accomplice crosses her arms, raising an accusatory pair of brows.

“Yeah,” you say much too seriously so you throw in an airy laugh, “I mean, there’s more to life than boys, y’know?”

“Right, like…?”

“Like…” your voice trails off because, for some reason, your mind goes blank as you attempt to recall your lifestyle from your previous hometown. “Like… hanging out with friends! With you guys!”

“Gah! You’re only able to say that because you have dozens of boys chasing you around the office. Us, on the other hand, time just… it just keeps ticking…” the two of them sigh in synchronization and you feel the heat of her arms retract as she shakes the hand of her one and only sympathizer.

“Psh,” you can’t help but grin throughout the frown elicited by their vivacious performance, “you guys have plenty of time. Just enjoy life for now and I’m sure you’ll find someone along the way.”

“Wait, but seriously,” her voice suddenly rises from her previously sullen state, as does her head on her friend’s shoulder. She looks you dead in the eye, and, honestly, you almost feel as though your privacy had just been invaded. “You really haven’t ever liked anyone before?”

“Uh…” you scatter through the disarrayed files that were your buried memories, eyes squinting at the sun that peeks through the clearing sky after a day full of rainfall. “Elementary and middle school don’t really count… too busy studying in high school… college was full of fuck boys I couldn’t care less for… and at work…”

The more that you hear yourself ramble, the more the reality of your lonesome future settles into the already burdened shoulders of yours.

“At work? You mean here? Or do you mean your last job?”

“Well,” you frown, trying to recall every male colleague that had piqued even the tiniest of interest in you; and as the two of your friends lean in, you start to lean back, despite the charging light bulb that flickers from the unlocked recollection of two years ago. “There was a guy who liked me and told everyone at work that he liked me, which I thought was really weird… nice guy, kind of a nerd, but I didn’t like him that way. Who else? Uh, hm—”

—bzzz.

The vibration against your back pocket pulls the plug from your train of thought.

“Aw man,” you hear your friends curse in the background, “just when we were finally getting her to spill something.”

The name on your screen has your heart skipping with delight.

Yezi [5:20 PM] Hey, I know you’re gonna forget, so you before you do, we’re having dinner together tonight :)

“It’s okay,” your friend pats the back of the other, “there’ll be some cute enough boys for her at tonight’s barbeque, I’m sure.”

“Ah shit,” you curse under your breath, hastily typing a response before peering up at your friends like a deer caught in the headlights, “actually, guys, turns out I already made plans with my friend from home. I’m sooo sorry.”

“Oh, really?” the two of them gasp. “Isn’t that a two hour train ride from here?”

“Yeah, so I really got to go now,” your phone tumbles into your bag as you begin to widen your strides like a woman on a mission.

They shake their heads in unison, “no, no, it’s okay!”

“I’m seriously so sorry guys,” you say as you pant, the distance between you and your friends widening by the second and forcing you to whirl around as you pace backwards. “I’ll make it up to you next time and do whatever you guys want, okay?”

“Really? Anything?”

“Yeah,” your hands draw a wide, inclusive circle into the air, “anything.”

“Even a blind date?”

“You know what? Why the hell not?” you chime, whirling back around with your back on them and a smile hidden away. Skipping off into the opposite direction toward the train station, you exclaim nonchalantly, “new year, new me!”

Lately, either through a stroke of luck or a reset of a life in a new town, there’s been something spectacularly whimsical about tonight’s air; and when a zephyr passes by, lifting you to the tip of your toes to an invincible high and relaying the confuzzled whispers of your friends—

“—wait, it’s not a new year, it’s already April—”

—you finally acquire a two year long-sought sensation: golden.

“I can’t believe you almost forgot about our plans!”

“Hey, I had a reminder set on my phone just ten minutes after your reminder” you quip with pursed lips, “and I still made it on time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Yezi prims with a stern look plastered across her face, gesturing, “with your hair and clothes damp in rain and your face smiling like a wagging, clueless beagle.”

“Well… beagles are cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment?”

She frowns, ignoring your remark, “did you not check the weather forecast?”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“I forgot.”

“Ugh, you forget everything these days,” she plants a palm to her forehead before returning to her plate, “well, I’m glad that at least you’re so carefree nowadays. You’ve finally settled into your new workplace, huh? You look so happy now.”

“You talk—” it’s difficult to speak with food being stuffed into your mouth “—as if I lost a loved one.”

“Well,” she grits her teeth, as if biting her tongue, and proceeds to slice the slab of steak, “I wouldn’t say that’s too farfetched.”

Frowning, your words come out muffled through puffed cheeks, “whaddya mean by dat?”

“You can’t tell me you forgot about what happened last time you were in town.”

“Uh…?” you furrow your brows, tracing into a forgotten yet familiar field you had long neglected for your own wellbeing. Last time you were in town, last time you were working here, last time you went out on a company party, last time you walked through this town’s treacherously embracing frosty breeze, last time you were dining here, last time you got wasted, not just here but anywhere, last time you shed tears… all the last times of this town shared only one similarity, a similarity you had subconsciously left behind at some point in your transition between the past and the now.

“Do I really have to say it myself?” she leans in, concerned. “I don’t want you bawling your eyes out again…”

Did she possibly mean… him?

“Jeon Jungkook,” she blurts, “there! I said it!”

Her utensils clatter onto her plate as she tosses her hands in the air in mercy, almost as if bracing herself for the storm after the calm, observing you intently but warily; that supposed storm, however and ever so fortunately, never arrives.

“Oh,” you utter, words slipping from your lips like sand through a palm, “I’m not crying.”

“You’re not crying,” she confirms, astonished.

“It doesn’t… hurt anymore?” you almost ask yourself.

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” you utter, shaking your head. Just as she’s caught off guard, you lurch across the table to pinch her cheeks, “but that doesn’t mean I appreciate you bringing him up during a perfectly lovely night!”

“Sho—” she furrows her brows in combination to her squished cheeks “—he doesh make you shad shtill?”

“Well, he doesn’t make me elated,” you finally release her from your wrath, returning to stare downward at your food, “but I guess it makes me reflect fondly on the past. It’s kind of like a scar. I know how much it once hurt but I can’t feel it to the same magnitude anymore. Actually, instead, the happy, jittery moments are more vivid to me than the tears that were shed. Is that… odd?”

“Like… like what? Examples?”

Like when his arm bumped into yours for the first time on the walk after work, like when he discretely went out of his way to ensure your safety across the bridge home, like when he enamored over the ‘ripped abs’ of a fully nude female character design of an upcoming project whilst you stood awkwardly with a set of breasts in full display for the two of you, like when the two of you escaped to become the aloof, static noise of an unbefitting party, or like when he held you in his hands and kissed you at the stroke of midnight, the butterflies live on—even today—to shield you from the dampened blows struck by dull weapons of jealousy, insecurity, and remorse.

With time, the silver lining finally showed itself like a sun shining through after a stormy night. You’ve finally accepted the truths behind every weapon. She was pretty. They were pretty. She never wronged you. They never wronged you. They deserved his love. His heart belonged to whomever he desired.

He never badmouthed his peers and, as blunt of a man as he was, he never pointed out your flaws, even if that meant you would later return home only to find mascara flakes on your cheeks. He treated women like a gentleman, as contradictory as it may seem from his appetite demeanor; and while you fell for him for that, you also cursed him for that very reason. He didn’t owe you anything… up to a certain point until the lines were too blurred to decipher between the truth, the deserved, and the faulty. Be it Ji-eun or Jennie, you’ve come to terms with his relationships.

As much as your relations with him seemed to run on a fragile thread of fate, your time had run out and the window of opportunity had been shut—but hey, at least you had fun.

“Are you… smiling?”

“Hm?” you look up to find her staring at you in concern. Blinking blankly, you quickly clear your throat and retract the smile you had subconsciously adorned. “I am?”

“I… don’t know if I should be worried or not,” Yezi downs another glass of iced water and you’re about to follow suit until she almost chokes on her water, “hey—isn’t that Jennie over there?”

“Jennie?”

You almost curse at Yezi for teasing you over bygones that should’ve been left as just that, but she really wasn’t lying. You can’t believe your eyes when you whirl your head around to look through the darkened tint of the restaurant’s window panes. You might have never really spoken to Jennie, but that figure is undeniably Jennie.

“What is she doing?” you squint, struggling to grasp a clear vision of her silhouette under the dim, orange street light beside her. You could only catch a hint of her side profile but those cheeks and unique sense of fashion definitely belonged to her; on the other hand, the constant stumbling and the hand to her head, almost as if she’s about to collapse at any second, did not resemble her. “Oh, oh, hold on, wait, whoa—we should help her!”

You scramble to your feet and bolt out the door whilst Yezi takes care of your abrupt leave with the restaurant staff. A freezing blast of wind welcomes you as soon as you step into the sidewalk but you waste no time. Abandoning the cold behind you along with the past, your mind is set on aiding the collapsed woman on the streets.

“Hey! Jennie, hey!” you call out to her as you sprint to her side, dropping to the floor without caring to notice the shards of glass that consequently cut your knees as you carefully roll her limp body onto its back and away from the sharp hazards. The pain has you wincing and seething under your breath, but the conditions of the person lying before you has you even more concerned. Her skin is even paler than usual. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in an evident struggle. Your taps against her shoulder gradually become frantic shakes until all you can hear is your voice and the whispering commotion of bystanders behind you. “Jennie! Can you hear me?!”

“Y/N!” you turn around to find Yezi peering down at you from above. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but something’s definitely not right,” you say as calmly as you could, “call 911. I’ll call her family.”

“Got it,” Yezi nods, immediately dialing the numbers on her phone but pausing in the midst of the ring to face you, “wait, do you know anyone from her family?”

Gritting your teeth, you frown as you dig into your memories, “...no, I know she might have had a boyfriend back then, so he might know, but I don’t know if they’re still together and I don’t even know his number…”

“Do you know anyone who might know her boyfriend then?”

“Well…”

The ending trails of your voice are whisked away into the returning wind of that fateful night. Hands gripping at your phone and eyes staring at the stranger yet familiarity of a name that glares off the screen, it’s an inevitable force that has you stupefied yet marveled at the revival of a tugging string that ties you to him through the strangest, most meandering paths.

his side;

It was almost like a fever dream. Her name plastered across his screen and his eyes squinting through the glaring light that illuminates his room. It had been two years since he had any contact nor mention of her; and now, out of the blue, in the midst of a nap after gym session, she calls him for help. He couldn’t believe his ears when he first heard her voice, believing it all to be another one of those numerous dreams that had him regretting his past or questioning his choices. He shot straight up in bed, phone grasped and glued to his ears that blocked out the computer fan that ran in the background.

Even now, after throwing on a sweater and jacket and bolting out the door in a state of rescue, he can’t quite believe his eyes; because there she sits on the hospital bench, in the signature slumped boyish manner and the confused blank stare off into the distance that still has him quirking a smile in remembrance every once in a while. In her favorite white blouse and her only slack of black dress pants, it’s almost as if nothing had changed, almost as if she had never left.

It’s almost like time had bent to his incessantly subconscious pleas and reversed its works; but the almost will always be an almost, for as long as those hallmark vivacious eyes and those rekindled mien of ambition lives. As far as Jungkook knew, she left with a dreary heart and returned with a fiery purpose.

Despite all that, he can’t help but notice the way she fidgets in her seat, nearly sinking and avoiding all contact the second his presence had been noticed. Instead of the sheepish flickering stolen glances of the past, he finds himself at odds with the way she fights to return the locked gaze of his eyes. She fought so hard that she might have forgotten how to speak, rendering a soft chuckle from his lips because the girl he endlessly dreamt of might still live after all; and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook has to put forth the effort to fill in the silence.

“Why did you call me?” he asks plainly as he stands before her.

“Well, I didn’t know any of her friends except you…” he watches as she fidgets with her hands, gaze falling to the floor before returning to him, “are you going to visit her? I think the doctor should be okay with it if you’re her close friend.”

“No, Kai will be here soon,” he explains, finally bending down and placing the bottle of rubbing alcohol beside her on the bench. “I have other shit to attend to.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles. The evident surge in annoyance amuses him that he just can’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. Turning her head, she continues, “you must’ve had plans with Ji-eun tonight. Sorry for the trouble.”

This is it. This is the moment that replayed on repeat like a broken tape in his dreams. This is his chance to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon the confessing girl who cried her eyes out on the cab home that one, indelible night.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air with the exception of the unscrewing of a plastic bottle and the gentle return of the bottle against the metallic bench, which is then followed by another staggering silence.

“We’re not that close and I’m not dating Ji-eun now.”

The girl turns with the quirk of a brow, especially when she spots him kneeling before her with a soaked cotton ball. “W-Wait what? Wait, shit, ow.”

“I don’t talk to Jennie as much as you think,” he states as a-matter-of-factly and continues to gently pat the cotton against the wounds on her knees. After hesitantly placing a band aid over the wound—something he had never done for anyone else nor for himself who just “sucked it up”—he finally lifts his gaze to interlock with hers, observing intently as if to soak the reality of it all in now before the inevitable tape begins to replay for the near future. “I broke up with Ji-eun before you left.”

“And...” she utters slowly, “why are you telling me this?”

Just like in the pool on that one night, her challenging eyes never budge and neither do his.

“I thought the past you would’ve liked to know,” he states. Head tilting to the side as if to get a better look, he remarks, “shit, you don’t look away anymore, huh?”

“Why would I?” she quips, snorting and finally breaking contact to stare off to the side. “It didn’t matter if I knew or not. It’s not like we were a thing.”

“Really?” Jungkook hums, gathering the scraps of cotton and paper before standing to his feet with a genuine soft sigh. It’s hard to brush off the two year old sinking sensation in his chest for something so nonchalant, but he manages to do it like he always does with that stoic look on his unreadable face. “Cause I thought we were.”

“What?” she gapes and he only gazes firmly back at her. “Why? It’s not like I… liked you.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at the ceiling for a brief second, lips pursing as he concludes the cards on the table: the unapologetic albeit risky truth or the defensive albeit purposeless self-deception. Unbeknownst to her, Jungkook had all the cards in his hands.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze and shrugging, “and it’s not like you liked me.”

Peering down at her from above, the boy’s crooked grin gradually settles into the silence along with the usual unreadable mien that he wears on the daily. “How would you know?”

Finally turning to return his gaze, she raises a brow at him before uncrossing her arms and standing to her feet. One step, two steps until she stands before him as close as she could recall on that night, she utters the one mutual truth of the night.

“Because you never told me.”

The brief silence filled with tension seems to last an eternity, yet neither of the two could take their eyes off the other. A rush of thrill intermixed with panic floods his blood. His fight or flight system screams at him to obey the very laws he had followed all these years but his mind warns him that change is a necessity for this euphoric heat that radiates from this very moment. He’s never quite felt like this before: throat knotting and heart leaping nearly out of his chest.

“Let’s—”

“—I need to catch the last train home,” she blurts, quickly taking a step back to distance themselves.

Like a magnetic force that she is to him, her retraction almost pulls the breath from his lungs along with it.

“What?” he frowns, trying to steady his breath. “It’s 10 right now. My last ride is at midnight.”

“Yeah, well mine is at 11 and I still have to walk there,” she shrugs indifferently to the entire ordeal—something that Jungkook takes to the heart.

“What?” he mutters, “the station is right next to this hospital.”

“What can I say? I’m a slow walker,” she prims, bowing her head and waving her hand to bid farewell. “Thanks for the band aid and all the help today. It was nice catching up. See y—I mean, take care.”

He stands there in silence, too stunned by the constant turn of events. Distracted by the crestfallen weight in his chest elicited by his shattered hopes, Jungkook raises a hand in response to her pressed, upcurved lips. He can only mumble a seemingly indifferent, “...see ya.”

There she goes—as gracefully as she had reentered his life and as fleeting as she had left for a second time. All this time he knew his side of the story: growingly regretful, discovering a yearning he never knew was within his capabilities, and helplessly pondering over a past he could not change and wondering if she did the same. At some point in time, those feelings became a fragment in time and that person he wished she knew became a version of his present self. He moved on, he forgot the magnitude of the pain, but he never quite came to terms with what it all could have been.

And all at once, the very moment he stands before her, the past him whomst he had perceived to be temporary comes flooding back into reality—flesh, fervent, and feelings of an immensity he could never have been prepared for—and if he were to be honest, he thought it would have been the same for her.

He never really knew her side, after all; but at the very least, he desires to hear it from her, herself. She never missed him, she never thought of him from time to time, she never woke up from a dream of him so vivid that it felt so real that she was left with a melancholic loneliness in the air—those words would close the gap in his chest.

If there’s one thing Jungkook had absolute control over at this very moment, it’s the last chapter of their shared novel in time and this is not the conclusion he imagined.

Before he knew it, Jungkook finds himself sprinting down the train station. Across the coldly lit hallways, up and down the stairs instead of the ‘shitty, slow escalators,’ and cutting through the nearing midnight breeze of the platforms until the breeze finally brought him to the last unvisited area, his daunting final destination.

Checking his watch, Jungkook’s chest heaves as he holds his hands to his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. It’s well past 11 now, nearing midnight, and he’s standing at the platform in the opposite direction of her new hometown. To the mere bystander, this platform really didn’t make any sense; but to Jungkook and his inkling, perhaps by a disheveled and desperate state, every twist and turn of the wind brought him right where he believes he belongs.

Puffs of his breath mark the airy night as he watches his last ride pass by the rails before him. Every cart, every seat, he scans them all. No one. His heart sinks with each check, each flicker of the eyes, and he begins to curse himself for his state of delusion until the last cart of the train flashes by to reveal his finale.

And as if by some sort of invisible string, life had somehow led him to her once again.

Because there she sits, across the wide yet surely crossable gap of the railway, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting for him all this time.

Jungkook stands there, stupefied by the works of fate, “why are you—”

“—hey, Jungkook!” she calls out to him, voice echoing across the vast, empty station. “What were you going to tell me back at the hospital?”

Taken aback by her question, Jungkook chuckles to himself in utter amusement; and as if by the magic sifting through the night, the nearby tower bells ring across the remaining distance between the two at the precise stroke of midnight.

“Let’s date!”

The boy’s zestful holler resembles more like that of a cheerful proclamation, for the way he holds his hands to his lips before throwing them freely into the air garners a giggle from his spectator. His voice projection accompanies the bells, perhaps too softly and thereby physically undetected, but she could hear him nonetheless.

“I liked you and I still like you so damn much, you dumbass!”

After witnessing the boy’s courageous display, the words she’s been waiting for but never knew she needed until their paths crossed once again for a limitless nth time slips from her like second nature, almost as if she’s practiced it in her dreams all this time. Her loud proclamation, however, slips beneath the bells like an accompaniment to a ceremonious work of fate.

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the platform, their confessions are far and wide and perhaps inaudible, but the dorky smiles adorning their lips as they gaze across at their inevitable final chapters serve to prove an undeniable fact.

Whether by sheer will or by this invisible string, whether by his side or her side, the truth is: their eternities will be forever tied, forever golden.

351 notes · View notes

cuptoasty · 3 years

Text

Letter Stickers

warnings: I don't see anything bad, it's just purely fluff.

summary: Tubbo is coming over to Tommy’s, which leads to Tommy being overly inpatient. Tubbo also mentioned a surprised, which Tommy didn't know about.

author notes: everything here is strictly platonic, every little nickname and movement is platonic. Do not leave a comment that is icky or gross.

little: Tommy

caregiver: Tubbo

Tommy was sitting on the living room couch, his leg bounced with excitement as he tried his best to relax. It was quite difficult to do so when Tommy checked his phone, every what he thought to be a few minutes, when in reality it was a couple of seconds, just to see if tubbo was close. The boredom kept bothering Tommy and he couldn't help but have a pout on his face. Each second Tubbo was gone left him more and more excited, humming to himself to try to calm him down just the slightest. See, Tubbo had promised he had a surprise with him, so Tommy was practically vibrating with positive energy.

Soon Tommy heard a ping from his phone, making him pick it up instantly and almost dropping the phone. He had to take a small deep breath, checking if he had cracked it in any way. Then he looked at what the notification was, it was a message from Tubbo! It read “I’m close, Toms! Try your best to not get too excited :P”. Tommy let out a small huff while looking away from the phone, he couldn't help being excited, and Tubbo knew that. Tubbo and him tried their best to see each other often, but they couldn't always do that since they kinda did live a few hours away from each other.

Tommy looked out the window that was behind the couch, bouncing up and down while humming a song from a kid’s show. Kid shows always made him felt safe, the way they spoke nicely and never tried to be rude made him happy. Kid shows reminded him of Tubbo, Tubbo was always nice to him and never hurt his feelings. He loved meeting up and seeing Tubbo, every time he knew they were meeting up, he would be giggly and always had a huge smile on his face. When they did actually meet up, he tried his best to not let go of Tubbo, loving to be by his best friend. His presence made Tommy want to hug Tubbo and talk to him as long as he could.

There was soon a knock on the door that took Tommy out of his happy and soft thoughts. He scrambled to get up, the adrenaline in his body just from excitement made him shake. Tommy ran over to the door, opening it with what he thought was a loud hello, but was probably more of a giggly and quiet one. Tubbo hugged Tommy with a hello back, which made Tommy smile, loving how Tubbo always noticed what Tommy said and responded. Tommy could feel a plastic-like feeling on his back, the shape was a gift bag type. Tommy thought for a moment on what it could be, but then realised it was the probably surprise.

“Hello there, my baby boy!” Tubbo spoke with pure joy wrapped around in his voice. Tubbo also loved seeing and talking to Tommy, He was enjoyed knowing that Tommy felt comfortable enough around him to regress. Even more comfortable to let Tubbo be his caregiver, and honestly, it’s all Tubbo could’ve wanted. Tommy decided to just stop standing there and hugging, he wanted to do fun stuff and to see the surprise! He dragged them to his bedroom with a small annoyed look. Tommy turned over to look over at Tubbo, there was a pout on his face to show that he was upset.

“Tubbo I’m not little!” He whined, clearly not happy at Tubbo’s assumption, he was in fact very very pouty. Tommy let out a small huff to show that he was right. Tubbo just smiled softly with a quiet chuckle and opened the door, letting himself walk in.

“I’m sure the surprise I got you will make you little” Tubbo hummed, placing the bag down and sat on Tommy’s bed. Setting the bag next to him and looked over at Tommy. Hearing this made Tommy perk up slightly, intrigued by the little part.

Tommy rolled his eyes, trying to play it off. “I’m sure it won’t.” He tried to make it seem like he didn't want to regress, but in actuality, its been a while since he last regressed. He would love to regress, it's been taking a toll on him for not regressing, and luckily Tubbo knew that.

“Maybe so, Bubba,” Tubbo said as he pulled out a bag of letter stickers from the blue bag that he had picked up again. The sticker’s bag was clear which showed all the colourful letters, they were rounded and were full of many squiggles of different colours. The bag crinkled which caught Tommy’s attention instantly, he looked over at what Tubbo was holding. It was as if seeing the letters made his mind click and become all fuzzy, he couldn't understand why, but it made him feel so small. “You like them?” Tubbo asked as Tommy tried his best to not fully regress.

“Uhm,, yeah! They’re cute,,” Tommy looked away, feeling embarrassed, and Tubbo smiled, patting next to him. Tommy whined, he knew what Tubbo was doing, but yet he walked over next to Tubbo and sat down.

“I was thinking you could decorate things with them, Bubba. Maybe your door, or a drawing you make. How about that, Bubs?” Tubbo spoke with a soft voice, it was sweet just like honey and maple syrup. The voice usually helped Tommy regress so it was useful in this situation. Tommy looked down at the bag and back at Tubbo with a child-like look. “I can tell you really like then, yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” Tommy’s voice was so quiet, unlike his usual yelling self, now feeling fully regressed. He was genuinely interested in the stickers, letting out a small giggle when Tubbo handed the bag to him. He held it with a smile on his face, holding the stickers right in front of his face to see them better.

“How about you pick some out while I grab your soother?” Tubbo got up, looking over at Tommy as he nodded. Tommy dug through the bag of letters as Tubbo left to get the soother. When Tubbo came back he saw the letters Tommy had picked were T O and M. “Oh! That’s your name!” Tubbo hummed and Tommy nodded. The soother was given to Tommy and was placed into his mouth, making him let out a sound of delight. The soother was one with the primary colours, the shield being yellow, the ring being blue, and the piece in between was red. There was also some decoration on it with the word MOO.

“C’mon,” Tubbo helped Tommy stand up “let’s go put it on your door!” Tommy bounced excitedly and ran out of his room, waiting for Tubbo to come over so he could help out. What felt like forever to Tommy, was only a few seconds, he was so impatient when in littlespace. Tubbo came out of the room and Tommy handed him the stickers so he could unpeel the paper. Tubbo chuckled and he unpeeled each one, handing them back to Tommy.

Tommy said a quick thank you and stuck his tongue out while he tried to properly place the letters, they were a little wonky but you could tell what they were saying. He looked over at Tubbo with a grin on his face and Tubbo smiled back, which lead to Tommy giggling.

Without wasting a moment Tommy dragged Tubbo back to his bedroom, looking around for something. He soon grabbed a piece of paper and started to messily draw something, Tubbo watched while he did something on his phone.

After a bit Tommy stood up, handing the drawing to Tubbo. Tubbo looked at it with a smile “this is absolutely adorable, hon!” Tommy jumped up and down, smiling happily.

“‘Ank you!!” he giggled, a moment later he let out a quiet yawn. Tommy immediately flushed, covering his mouth. Tubbo hummed and opened his arms for a hug, which Tommy obviously accepted. Why would he decline an awesome hug from the greatest person?

He was deceived by this because Tubbo started rocking him, a thing that usually made him sleepy. Tommy thought it was a good idea to shut his eyes, just to rest them for a second. Though, that only proved Tubbo right in making him fall asleep.

Tubbo stayed there, cuddling Tommy as he slept, not planning on leaving him at any time.

#tommyinnit #tubbo #tommy #agere!tommy #agere tommy #age regressor tommy #agere!tommyinnit #agere tommyinnit #age regressor tommyinnit #dsmp agere #caregiver tubbo #cg tubbo #cg!tubbo #little tommy #litte tommyinnit #little!tommy #little!tommyinnit

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lisbonsteresa · 3 years

Text

We Keep This Love (In a Photograph) (Nancy x Ace)

The first time he finds the photo is the day after the food festival.

He arrives at the Claw late, rushing to shove his jacket into his locker and get to the kitchen before George notices his absence, when something crinkles unexpectedly in the pocket. Reaching in, he pulls out the polaroid - a bit wrinkled, the right corner completely folded over - but still in one piece even after the events of the day before. He stares at it for a moment, crouching in front of his open locker, trying to recall when he had acted on the impulse to grab it off the coffee table in their rush to leave, and before he can stop to realize what he’s doing he’s studying the picture’s subject instead. Hair falling into her eyes, dirt from the tunnels still smeared across her face, her features set in an expression of determined focus as she dug into the box of files Carson had procured for her, still looking so perfectly…Nancy. A small grin crosses his face as he remembers her amused reaction to the flash of the camera turning into a sincere smile as Carson told her how proud of her he was - Because of her testimony. The grin drops off his face as the memories of the rest of the day rush back into sharp focus. The sense of uselessness he’d felt as he’d dangled from that railing and watched his life be traded for the lives of countless others; the terrifying amount of finality he’d heard in her ‘I couldn’t lose you.’; the way there was no doubt in his mind about what “favor” Celia had asked for in return - a favor that for all he knows Nancy could be fulfilling right this moment.

As if summoned by his own despondent thoughts, the door to the storeroom suddenly bursts open and Nancy rushes in, her coat hanging off of one arm as she fastens her hair into a hurried bun. Her mad dash stops short upon seeing him, and as their eyes meet he’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he wants to say to her; all the things he held back the day before while Grant was around. The questions of ‘How could you -’ and ‘Why would you -’ and the arguments starting with ‘This will ruin your -’ and ‘I’m not worth -’ cycle around each other in his mind, and he can tell that something’s about to slip out his mouth but he can’t make the connection between them to know what it’ll be - And then suddenly he doesn’t have to. George’s annoyed voice rings out from the kitchen, and he’s never heard the phrase ‘saved by the boss’ before, but after this he might consider adopting it. He quickly crumples the photo into a ball and tosses it into his locker, following it with his jacket as if burying the image would help him bury the feelings it brought up. He gives Nancy a curt nod, avoiding whatever he might have seen in her eyes as he turns and heads towards the stairs, knowing there was a difference between delaying something and running away from it, but not quite sure which side this was falling on.

——————————————————————

It’s several months before he sees it again. Long enough for Everett Hudson’s first case to be declared a mistrial due to jury tampering, and for the time between it and his retrial to be just enough to allow Nick and Ryan to find a smoking gun hidden in Tiffany’s files that put the Hudson patriarch away for his full sentence (officially, at least). Long enough for Amanda to turn to him on her doorstep two weeks after the trial and tell him that she and Gil were leaving - finally following up on his lead in Santa Fe. There were kisses goodbye and offers to help in any way he could, but they both agreed it would be better for her to focus on finding her mother, and at this point it’s been long enough that he’s starting to feel like he’s doing okay after the breakup. He’s starting to feel like everything’s back to…whatever passes for normal in Horseshoe Bay. At least, he is until Nancy announces - midway through George’s mandated After Hours End-of-Summer-Cleaning Locker Inspection, no less - that she’s gotten into Columbia.

His hand had just closed around a crumpled ball of paper in the back of his locker when the words leave her mouth, and the ball stays in his hand even as he joins in on the group hug an ecstatic Bess initiates; as he tells Nancy how happy he is for her; as he reassures George that he’ll close up so she can ride with Nick to the celebration he’s sure Carson has planned for Nancy back at their place.

It isn’t until he’s left alone in the storeroom and he drops down onto the bench in front of his locker that he notices how tightly he’s been gripping the paper. Or the…not paper, he corrects himself as he notices the different texture of whatever he was holding. A sneaking suspicion comes from the back of his mind as he starts to smooth out the ball, and once the image is revealed in full - slightly faded with the right corner ripping off altogether after he pulls a bit too hard - he has to fight the urge to crumple the photo again and toss it into the trash.

Which is a weird impulse, isn’t it? Because he was happy for her, of course he was. This was Nancy’s dream school, after all, and after the year that she’s had, doesn’t she deserve to do what makes her happy? To move on with her - His thoughts stutter to a stop. He shakes his head and tries again. After all, hasn’t he - haven’t they all - known this was coming, sooner or later? Hasn’t he known from the start that Nancy was meant for bigger and better things? That she wasn’t going to hang around forever, not in this nowhere small town, with her ragtag group of friends and the dishwasher who’s been at a standstill since high school -

He’s being unfair, he knows. Because Nancy doesn’t see it, any of it, like that. He knows how much Nancy cares; about Horseshoe Bay, about her friends…about him. She’d told him as much during the countless knock-down-drag-out arguments they’d had after the incident at the paper mill, hadn’t she? But he can feel annoyance - or maybe even anger - rising up inside him, and if he doesn’t deflect it towards her, then he’ll have to confront himself, and he’s been avoiding that confrontation for months now. He’d have to actually think about why he’s been keeping Nancy at arm’s length even after they’d both said their piece during those arguments. Why he’d been so insistent that they’d ‘gotten back to normal’ when he honestly wasn’t sure he had any idea of what ‘normal’ was for them. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d avoided his eyes when he’d congratulated her, but he wasn’t sure it was the way she had held onto his hand long after everyone else had left their hug either. He’d have to actually think about how he’d wasted so much time pretending there wasn’t still something to fix between them, and how he didn’t know what to feel now that he’s realized they’ve run out of time anyway.

When Amanda had left, it had felt like they were mutually closing a door - calm and maybe a little sad, but with both of them smiling and understanding on their respective sides. Knowing that Nancy was leaving felt like having to struggle with a door against hurricane-level winds, without a clue of what side he wanted to be on once he finally got it closed. But maybe that’s not a fair comparison to make, he rationalizes. After all, he and Amanda were together. He and Nancy have just been… He looks back down at the polaroid, his thumb running along the torn edge as he considers just what exactly he and Nancy have been, before dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. Too late to figure it out now, anyway.

He leans forward and slips the photo between the pages of a library book already overdue by a year at the bottom of his locker. So he’ll have something to remember her by, he tells himself, unsure if the unpleasant feeling that settles in his gut as he slams the locker shut is bitterness or just plain sadness.

——————————————————————

Life goes on in Horseshoe Bay, even without Nancy Drew. It’s not until late fall when he sees the photo again. He’s helping George and Nick with the Claw’s first official Allhallowtide event, spending his day helping kids decorate their lanterns whenever he’s not hyping Bess up over text for her ‘very preliminary, very probational, very terrifying!!!!!’ (her exclamation points, not his) first in-person meeting with Aunt Diana since she’d started slowly rebuilding their relationship.

He’s sitting on the steps leading into the storeroom after one of their longer text exchanges, laughing when George calls out for him to make himself useful and find more markers, but he rises to follow her instructions anyway. It takes him all of 5 minutes to realize that they are completely marker-free, digging through every drawer and pencil holder in the room and coming up with nothing, before he remembers the pack of Crayolas he’s pretty sure survived his last locker clean-out.

He unloads his jacket, a few books, and the jumbo pack of earplugs he’s been drawing from ever since that siren incident three weeks ago onto the bench to make it easier to find the markers, but the earplugs overbalance the books and everything comes toppling down before he can even look through what’s left in the locker.

With a sigh, he leans over and picks up the old library book that fell face-down, watching curiously as a square of paper drops out from between the pages and back down onto the floor. A catalogue card, he wonders, or maybe a note someone stashed and forgot about? But as he picks it up and sees the torn right corner, he realizes that not only is it not regular paper, but that he knows exactly what he’s going to see before he flips the item over.

A shock runs through him all the same once he does, seeing Nancy’s face for the first time in months. He doesn’t have more than a moment to think about that though, as his phone erupts with seven text tones in rapid succession at the same time George’s shouts for him to hurry up reach the storeroom. After a tiny moment of hesitation, he slides the polaroid into his back pocket and shoves everything else back into the locker before making his way back to the dining room, marker-less and contrite.

That was a mistake. He spends the rest of the day hyperaware of what he’s holding onto, patting his pocket for reassurance it hasn’t slipped out so many times that one of Ted’s friends asks him - with all the seriousness a 9-year old can muster - if he is also suffering from the ‘wedgie-saurus’.

It isn’t until that night, after he insists that he’ll close up the Claw so Nick and George can stay with her sisters at the lantern-lighting event, that he has a moment alone to actually look at the picture. He straddles the storeroom bench, placing it down in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees so he can lean in close as a sudden wave of guilt hits him. He remembers the way their text conversations had petered out after long stretches of one-word or emoji-only replies; the way her calls had slowly become less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. He still gets weird looks from the others when he makes excuses to avoid their video calls with her; can still hear Bess’s overly-sympathetic voice after she’d spent a long weekend in New York telling him that everything was fine, that Nancy just misses him.

He misses her too; of course he does. Some days he misses her so much the ache of it catches him by surprise. Like when he'd realized his habit of watching the door for the first ten minutes of every shift, still expecting her to rush through it with her name tag missing and an excuse at the ready. When he made a Big Lebowski reference at dinner one night and got nothing other than a confused smile from his mother in response. When he was researching something at the end of the bar and felt a phantom presence at his shoulder, like she was just outside his peripheral, leaning up against him and waiting impatiently for him to turn towards her and give her the answer she was looking for.

It didn’t seem possible for someone he’d known for barely a year to have become such a big part of every aspect of his life, but everywhere he’s turned for months there seems to be another reminder of Nancy Drew.

And that just makes everything worse. Because he hadn’t been able to give her the answers she might have needed before she left. And now, now that he’s had the time to figure those answers out, now that they kept him up at night, running endlessly through his head while he stares dejectedly at the ceiling, he doesn’t know if they’re still the same answers she was looking for now. And he’s terrified by the thought that they might not be. He’s gotten himself caught in a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve on his own.

But maybe… His thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the clock hanging above the back door, and he starts when he realizes nearly an hour has passed since he first sat down. Glancing at the photo again, he waits for the urge to tuck it back between the pages of that book; to push his feelings down and avoid having to confront them, but it doesn’t come.

Something else clicks into place with the last chime of the clock, and holding the polaroid in one hand, he unlocks his phone with the other, ignoring Bess’s 5 recap and 2 goodnight texts for the moment while he taps the contact info for the only other person he’s sure will be awake at midnight on a Tuesday.

She picks up on the first ring. “Ace?”

Her voice sounds tired, maybe even a little worried, but so deeply familiar his heart jumps into his throat just at the sound of her saying his name. “Hey, Nancy.” he begins, unable to hold back a small smile as he looks down at her picture. “Can we talk?”

Maybe he doesn’t have to solve this one alone.

Maybe neither of them do.

——————————————————————

Nancy’s bright hair makes her easy to spot, even from his position across the train platform. He watches as she peers through the crowd, noticing him with a grin and a tiny wave, before he pushes off from the wall and starts to make his way over to meet her.

He’d practically had to fight Ryan to be the one picking her up, he imagines telling her as she laughs. The man had been ready to push him down in the driveway until Carson had stepped in to - heavily, mind you - imply that maybe Nancy and Ace could use a little ‘alone time’.

That part he might keep to himself, actually. It was bad enough that Carson acted like he was in on some big secret every time he got off the phone with his daughter; he didn’t need her wondering why both her father figures were trading smug smiles every time the four of them were in a room together.

He realizes too late that he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts and that Nancy was suddenly standing less than a foot away from him. “Hi.” he murmurs, the memory of their last - somewhat awkward - reunion tugging at the back of his mind. (He almost wished his arm was still in a sling. Then at least he’d only have to worry about what to do with one of his hands).

“Hi.” she replies in the same tone, her own hands twisting nervously in the strap of her bag, but a beaming smile on her face. It was the same smile he’d seen during their almost daily video calls for the past month and a half, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for the way it makes his heart flip to see it directed at him, live and in person.

“H-how’s Columbia?” he manages to only stumble over the first word, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because suddenly Nancy’s dropped her luggage and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him while his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer still as he breathes in the fact that this is really happening, that it’s not a dream he’s going to wake up from to find the calendar mockingly reminding him there was another three days until her holiday break started.

He’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world moves around them, but when they finally pull away he knows his smile is as bright as hers. There’s a lot they still have to share - he hasn’t told her about his first day interning with John Sander yet, and she has a copy of the Daily Spectator with her first front page article stowed safely in her bag - and a lot - the distance, their schedules, missing each other - that they still have to figure out. But as he holds out his hand and Nancy takes it in hers, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ace can’t find it in himself to worry.

Whatever happens, they’ll figure out a way to solve it. Together.

——————————————————————

(She finds the photo less than a week later; sees it hanging on the inside of his locker when she stops by the Claw to help them decorate for the holidays. Bess is beside herself at somehow being one of the last to know, but Ace can’t really focus on anything other than the look in Nancy’s eyes as she pulls him in for a kiss.)

#ndff #nancy drew cw #if i told you how long this took me to actually get down.....babes you would LAUGH at me alkdsjf #anyway it's been just under 2 weeks off and i've already 1. reached the 'no plot just vibes' stage of my writing and #2. completely lost track of tense; i'm sorry #(also sorry for the title but it's like 5am here so actually no i'm not)#otp: knock 'em dead #longpost

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thequeenb · 3 years

Text

Come Back

This is part 3 of the series because its highly requested. Part 1 and 2 are here for you to read.

I watched Poppy get out of the limo gracefully as she has always been. She was perfect in every way, people here aren't used to this type of women. From head to toe she was beautiful, from the way her hair fell to her shoulders to the way she was standing, eyes looking at me intently.

Everyone was stunned but i am not surprised. Charlie gasps as she takes my hand in hers tagging me away from the crowd. My eyes are lost in hers, just like every movie everything stops. My heart is pounding but I can't quite know how i feel. As Charlie pushes me away from her i can see the disappointment all over her perfect features

Why she follow me? Why is she here? How did she know i was here? And most importantly what do i do now? Before my mind start overthink Charlie looks at me worried

"I am sorry this is all my fault i thought it was a celebrity i didn't knew it was your ex"

Right my ex. Is this the right word? I cant quite tell to be honest. We have been through so much that we didn't had time to label our relationship nor we had to. I felt anger when the painful pictures came back in my mind. If our relationship meant even a little bit to her why would she let us fall apart?

I frown and Charlie hugs me tight without another word. She always knew what to do and how to read my eyes. Her hand draws small circles on my back and i take a deep breath

"This wasn't your fault. I am surprised she even knows where Farmsvile is" my bitter chuckle fills the air "i always wanted to take her here, show her the real world without any masks covering our every decision"

Charlie listens to me like always. I miss Zoe though, she is as supportive as her but she always knew the New York world better than Charlie

"Why do you think she is trying to find you?"

I bite my lip in thought wanting the answer to this question but for now its unknown

"Well i blocked her number..her instagram, her Twitter account, her Facebook account her-"

"Woah there" Charlie says laughing "you are such a drama queen no wonder the big city treats you well"

"I wish it did, so many things changed so fast. The way i dress, the way i think, the way i make decisions, everything" i hide my face in my hands unable to get a hold of my emotions

"Well you better make a fast decision because miss Barbie is coming our way right now" i quickly fix my hair and wipe my tears not wanting Poppy to see how hurt i am

She approaches carefully and so sure of herself but knowing her i sense the hesitation in her expression.

"Could we have some privacy?" Poppy asks and Charlie gives me the "should i kill this bitch" look. I nod reassuring her its fine

"If you hurt her more i will throw you to the pigs" Charlie says giving Poppy a sharp look before walking away

Poppy mutters something under her breath, probably something like 'gross' or 'ew'. She is hesitant to sit next to me but I don't mind it. Taking a deep breath i try to not cry

"Look Bea, i won't waste your time because you already hate me but everything you saw has a story behind them" her expression changes, i am sure she replay the events and honestly so do i. The difference between us is that she feels sadness and i am blinded by rage

"Oh i am sure it does. I will make a guess and say that you used me all this time and i was just a puppet in your stupid game" i stand up unable to be close to her

"Oh please what would i gain from you? Being with a farmer girl isn't exactly appealing to any advantage" she stands up too, her eyes a wild fire ready to spread

A farmer girl..not appealing. Bravo Poppy, break my heart a little bit more

"Wow really? Last time i checked a farmer girl made you feel loved, a farmer girl took you to nice places and a farmer girl held you while you complained about your family!!" I raise my voice even though i have all the right reasons, still i can see how surprised she is by it

"I could have anyone i want if i snap my fingers but i tried to protect you i never wanted Carter-"

"Oh really?? The what the fuck is this pic Poppy?" I shove my phone in her face and i can see clearly her anger building in

"You don't understand, i am stupid i even came to this disgusting place to find you" she grabs her bag fixing her hair trying to make a dramatic exit

"Oh seriously? Well i am sorry this doesn't meet your standards i am sure you enjoy the city where nobody gives a shit about you or use you for your name" i grab my bag too and this time i walk away without looking back

Suddenly i stop my tracks but i don't turn around to face her "And to think i wanted to show you where i grew up" thats all i say before my tears fell from my eyes. I change my pace going faster in hope she would chase me but she doesn't.

The fresh air hits my face and i feel safe knowing nobody will judge me here. Walking a little further i finally arrive home where a familiar smell greets me. My mother is making my favourite food, father is feeding the chickens and Charlie waits for me on the porch

I put a fake smile on my face as i approach "well that went better than i thought" sarcasm was always my way to cope with my emotions

"You will share the details later right now we should eat the stew while its hot come on!" Charlie leads me inside the house and it feels good to be surrounded by welcoming faces

The day passes fast and i jump in my bed. I am so exhausted, who knew dealing with my emotions would be so tiring. Before i close my eyes i check my phone in hope Zoe texted me but i know she is busy. I close my eyes hoping the pain will stop and the new day will start better.

The sun hits my face and i groan in annoyance when i hear a knock at my door.

"Sweetheart should i come in?" My mother comes inside my room and i sit up trying to understand why she woke me up at..8:00 in the morning?? Ugh a girl cant get her beauty sleep

She sits beside me cupping my face in her hands. I missed her touch, she always made me feel better about myself and my problems no matter how sad i was feeling

"You have visitors outside waiting for you but i was adviced to not let you look through the window" my mother chuckles "now get ready they waited long enough"

I smile putting all my energy into getting out of my warm bed "fine fine only because i know Charlie will want to do something crazy"

I get dressed and run downstairs. I open the door only to be greeted by Charlie and.. Poppy??

"Goodmorning Princess i am sorry to wake you up so early but we have cows to milk" Charlie winks at me but my attention falls to Poppy who's wearing a simple T shirt and..boots? What is happening?

"Don't look at this city snob like that it took me 1 hour to convince her to wear these"

Poppy rolls her eyes but i laugh, its a once in a lifetime opportunity to see her this way, ah how i would love to take a picture and post it everywhere

"Show me your world" Poppy says giving me a small smile and for the first time i can see all the effort she put for me. I mean the outfit says it all, and the one and only Min SinClair will do farm work? Now thats some change

"I chuckle walking towards the farm "Well then show me how sorry you are" i say throwing a bucket at Poppy who looks at it in disgust

"I swear Hudges if you-" but Charlie push her in time and honestly this is the best sight ever. Poppy pouts but bites her tongue

"Lets go city girl show me what you got" Charlie and i laugh and surprisingly Poppy joins as she hides her face on my shoulder

"I missed you" she whispers only for me to hear and i smile letting my bad thoughts on the side for once seeing where this will take me. I hold her closer as we walk into the sunrise ready to share a piece of myself with her.

Tag list: @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @princessstellaris @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @ghalind @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper @aiswood @alexlabhont @dopeyouth @tyrils-star @alexroyard @uselesslesbianfr @wolfietheduckyou @somin-yin

#queen b poppy #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #pb choices #choices fic #choices #pb #choices stories you play #playchoices #queen b mc

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