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cheolism · 11 months

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when he thinks of you

➥ moments when your svt boyfriend thinks of you (although he thinks about you all the time, if we're honest here)

➥ gn!reader

➥ mentions of food and eating, marriage. mentions of long-distance relationships and touring. this is just meant to be silly n cute!!!! it's just romance and fluff all the way through :) <3 if you've got any thoughts abt this, come visit me in my inbox and lmk!!!!

➥ choi seungcheol

he thinks of you when he pouts. he gets silky more often than he admits, but each and every time he can't help but think of you. whenever seungcheol pouts around you, which he does more often than not, you coo and kiss him. the first time it happened you made his heart beat so loudly he swore they could hear it in london. he had pouted about you taking a drink of his smoothie, whining about how there wasn't enough for him now. you had laughed, eyes shining. then you had leaned towards him, hands rising up to cup his face. you had looked at him like he had hung every single star in the sky, and when you pressed your lips to his he knew he would never ever be able to get you out of his head. and now, whenever he pouts, no matter where he is, thoughts of you appear.

➥ yoon jeonghan

whenever he sees something cute the first thing he thinks is of how much it reminds him of you. jeonghan finds you so ridiculously adorable. from the way you whine in the mornings, from the way you cuddle closer and closer whenever the two of you share a bed. whenever he sees a little puppy, running about with its overly large ears bouncing, he thinks of you and how adorable you'd find it. when he finds a cute little hello kitty phone charm online he always hovers over it, thinking of how cute it would look if you were to attach it to your phone. when he sees a cute little strawberry cake that's pastel pink with little cream hearts, he wants to buy it and present it to you. every cute thing in the world is linked back to you, and jeonghan wouldn't have it any other way.

➥ hong jisoo

whenever he sees his phone case he thinks of you. even fleetingly, if he takes his phone from his pocket and catches a glimpse of the case your name will flash through his mind, your lovely face grinning at him. he buys matching phone cases regularly, so much so that you've got one for each month of the year. but he adores it. he loves matching you, loves that whenever he looks down at his phone, whether it be his my melody phone case that matched your hello kitty one, or his phone case with half a heart that connected to yours, he adores it. and of course, what would all the work of having a matching phone case be without having matching lockscreens!!

➥ wen junhui

whenever jun sees an animal, he's whipping out his phone to snap a photo and show you. one of the first dates the two of you had ever been on was to a kitty cafe, in which he discovered you loved animals just as much as he did. that date was followed by an aquarium, which was followed by a petting zoo, and so on. he also loves getting photos of animals from you, so much so that he has a folder on his gallery dedicated to the animal photos you send him. he especially loves to send photos of stray kitties to you, dropping to a crouching position so he could get them to come close enough for pets. sometimes he thinks about the future, where he'd take you and buy a little farmhouse out in the country so the two of you could have a petting zoo of your own.

➥ kwon soonyoung

it isn't a physical thing that reminds soonyoung of you. whenever he stops for a break, whether it be practicing dancing or singing or when they have some other sort of a schedule, he thinks of you. more often than not, whenever he has an important and long schedule, you send him little texts reminding him to eat and drink, to take just a moment of rest to try and restore his energy. so whenever he goes on a break, whether he sees a text from you or not, he thinks oh, y/n would say to get some water. and so he would, wandering about until he finds what he's looking for. you love him so much that you want him to take care of himself, even when you're not aruond; and he loves you, so why on earth would he make you worry about something he could prevent?

➥ jeon wonwoo

whenever he pushes up his glasses, he is reminded of your fifth date. the two of you had taken it slow, not wanting to rush, not feeling the need to rush. and so your dates were long, comfy things that left him feeling refreshed and satisfied, that left him smiling and his heart swelling with warmth. your fifth date had been a late-night picnic next to the han river. you had been leaning against him, listening to wonwooo hum softly to the music playing off of his phone. you were staring at him -- which was fine. it would be a lie for him to try and pretend he didn't stare at you. but then you had leaned close, cupping his cheek with one hand and sliding his glasses up with the other, a cute little frown on your face. he found it so cute that he couldn't help but kiss you, and now whenever he has to push up his glasses himself he can't help but wish you were there with him, doing it instead.

➥ lee jihoon

jihoon is a workaholic. you know that, he knows that, the entire industry knows that. he had gotten better ever since you had sat him down, three months into dating, and had murmured, scared of pushing him away, that you missed him, that you wanted to actually, you know, see the man you were dating. ever since then jihoon tried his best to be present with you, but his job was a demanding one. you were understanding, however. you sent him cute photos of whatever you were doing, of yourself cuddling a stuffed animal he had gotten you while on tour. in exchange he would always send a picture of a cute little figurine you had gotten him on a vacation you took with your friends. you had set it on his desk, next to his monitor, with a cute little smile. "so you think of me whenever you're busy being a genius," you had said, teasing. but little did you know that it worked like a charm, and whenever he caught sight of that little figurine he couldn't help but think of you.

➥ lee dokyeom

it's tacky, and he knows it, but whenever dokyeom sings he can't help but think of you. every artist has their muse, and his is you. when he's across the world, singing his heart out, he's thinking of you. he tries to be present with the fans of course, tries to stay in the moment. but his heart always turns towards you, and dokyeom can't help but put a little more effort into singing, somehow feeling as if you were able to hear him despite all the distance between the two of you. when he sings at your shared apartment you always go to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest, just listening to him. it's soothing to listen to him sing, you told him once; it was a comfort. and now whenever he sings he thinks of you, of you who found home beside him, and can't help but be comforted by the thought.

➥ kim mingyu

mingyu loves good food. you love good food. dates always come with a meal, the two of you alternating between who chooses where to eat. whenever he's away and has to choose from a menu, he'll send you photos of it. he'll text you his thought process as he goes through each item, as if he was talking to you in real time about what to have. when he does finally order, when he does get his food, he takes a photo to send to you. he'll rearrange the food if he has to, will clear the table and push other members' food out of the way so he could get the most perfect photo to send you. whenever you send him a photo of your meal he'll whine, he'll say about how he wishes he was there to take a bite, or how dare you eat something so delicious without him.

➥ xu minghao

whenever he gets out his phone to take a picture, he's already planning on sending it to you. that's just a given. every photo in his gallery is one he's sent to you, is one you've seen before. if he sees a pretty sunrise or sunset, he's sending them to you. if he sees a pretty flower, expect to see it. if he sees a pretty perfume bottle: you're seeing it. "you should see pretty things," he said when you asked once, so matter-of-fact about it that you couldn't help but laugh and kiss him. he firmly believes it too. people can't be perfect, minghao knows, but you're his definition of perfect because you're you. and so you should only have to see the beautiful and pretty things of the world, and if it falls on minghao to make sure of this, then it's a job he'll gladly do.

➥ boo seungkwan

one of his most favorite things in the world is making people laugh. he loves making his members laugh, loves making the staff laugh. making people happy is such a simple thing, but it's something seungkwan treasures. whenever he makes someone laugh he can't help but wish you were there. of everyone in the world -- except for his mom, maybe -- he loved making you laugh the most. he loves the way your eyes widen in surprise sometimes before you laugh. he loves your loud laughs and your quiet giggles. he wants to make you that happy all the time, and whenever he manages to make other people laugh he wishes you were there in the moment with him so you could laugh and be happy too. everyone's laughter is precious, seungkwan knows, but he can't help but think that your laughter is the most beautiful, no matter how quiet or loud it is, no matter how many times you snort or cry from it.

➥ chwe hansol

music is important to hansol. he adores it, loves it. he doesn't go anywhere without his headphones, whether it be his wireless airpods or beats or his store-bought wire ones. it doesn't matter which set he uses, however, because whenever he grabs them from their case he thinks of you. you've decorated each of the cases, pressing cute stickers and covering them. even his airpods max case is decorated in your stickers, his initials on each speaker in glittery pink. seungkwan had laughed his ass off when he first saw it, but hansol adored it. he loved pulling them out of his backpack and seeing his airpod case with your cute little kitten stickers decorating it, loved running his fingers over the turtle sticker you slabbed onto the case. whenever he uses someone else's headphones, whether it be for a schedule or because he somehow forgot his own, he can't help but think of his own headphones and how much better they were, simply because of your stickers.

➥ lee chan

you love touching chan. which is great because he loves touching you too! but in particular, whenever you're sitting, you grab his left hand and press it between both of yours. soon enough, like clockwork, you'll start twisting his rings around his fingers, smoothing over the metal. he'll ask you if you're nervous or anxious, but you'll just throw him a confused look and shake your head. it's fine, though. he loves it when you run your hand over his, when you twist his ring around his finger. it gets to the point that whenever he even glances at his ring he thinks of you, thinks of your fingers playing with his. rings become his favorite accessory because of you, and he even buys a special fidget one. his favorite ring, however, is the one he'll eventually wear on his left ring finger, a perfect match to yours.

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medusas-musings · 8 months

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The Car Ride Home (Brian "Q" Quinn X Reader)

(A/N: Obligatory not my gif and I was high writing it so ignore any possible mistakes, thank you for reading!! 🧡

Summary: After casually seeing Q for about a month, he lets you in on some news (Fluff, semi-established relationship)

I Told Them About Us (Brian “Q” Quinn X Reader)

I think you can tell a lot about someone by what they keep around in their car. If they keep napkins in their car and what kind of napkins they are. If they have a special compartment for their sunglasses or just lay them wherever they’ll fit. Whatever small trinkets or essentials can paint a picture of their normal routine. However, the hula girl on the dashboard of Q’s Jeep throws me for a loop for what it could mean about him.

I see him walk towards the vehicle, and I could see him biting his lip to try to hide his sweet smile until he fully gets in the car. Once he’s closed the door his lips curve into a smile as he greets me. “Hey, Baby.” He reaches over to plant a kiss onto my forehead and rustle my hair slightly, causing me to smile. I lift his hand up to my lips before interlocking my fingers into his. “I think work was good today, how bout you?”

“I had an alright day, a lot of running around as usual. I need to rest my muscles.” I respond, stretching my neck and putting my hands atop my shoulders rubbing out today's stress.

“Well let’s get you back to my place, we can run you a bath and maybe I can get some of those knots out of ya.” Q winks at me as he starts the engine of his pride and joy and pulls us out of the parking lot. “You got your stuff? Change of clothes and all?”

“Yep!” I nudged the canvas tote bag at my feet. I’ve gotten used to bringing this to work by now since for the last month and a half, I have spent countless nights at Brian’s. The moment we bumped into each other at work, there had always been a spark between us. It took about 6 months for him to truly make a move when we got at a bar and got drinks after. Ever since that night, I’ve gotten used to waking up to him in the morning and sharing a pot of coffee.

“What excuse did you give the guys this time?” I inquired to Q, turning my head to see him smile. We haven’t yet made anything official, therefore we both decided to keep our little rendezvous just to ourselves for now. Sometimes I wish I could tell my friends about our late night pizza dates or how he loves to wake me up in the morning by kissing my neck.

“Actually, none.” He gave a glance to me, the smile still on his face, giving an air of anxiety now as I heard his voice. “I kinda let it slip. That I’m seein’ someone.

My eyes widen and I can't help but give a breath of a laugh. “You’re fucking with me.” He gives me a knowing glance, a glance that I know means he’s not kidding. “How’d you manage that?” I laugh a little, this time out of astonishment. I figured if anyone were to accidentally let it slip, it would definitely be me.

“I was trying to show them a picture of Benjamin and it opened a photo of you and I couldn’t think of a lie in time.“ A look of concern crosses my face that Q catches. “It’s not one of those pictures. He smirks at me as the color returns to my face. “They asked what your name was, what you’re like, when they’ll meet you, all that stuff.” Brian trails off.

“So which photo was it? I swear to god if I hate it I’m making you delete it.” Q shakes his head and his face cringes a little. As we stop at the red light he lets go of my hand then pulls his phone up and goes to his gallery, opening up a photo. Not just any photo, one I took a week ago on the set that I posted for Instagram. “Q…I didn’t send you this photo.” I look over to see his head in his hand, a tight grin as he watches the road instead of my smug smile.

“I know..” He says he takes his phone back and puts it by the side of his leg. “I wanted to look at ya, is that so wrong?” I laugh at his admission of guilt then grab his hand again and I place the back of his hand to my cheek.

“I think it’s sweet. But the question is..” I pause, trying to find the best way to ask. “What’d you say to that question about meeting me?” He purses his lips, staring straight to the road. By this point I knew he preferred to look anywhere but me when our conversations got a serious air to them. I guess while he’s driving he has a good excuse to do it.

“Actually I told them I’d ask you.” His eyes meet mine for a moment, then fixes them back onto the road in front of him. I could tell from this small millisecond was his way of showing me he’s ready to take it to the next step. His way of showing me he wanted to show me off to people and was tired of sneaking me off to his hideout of a home. “What do you think?” A smile grows on my face as I look back at him. His facial expression was calm but he couldn’t stop putting his hands on his beard as he drove. “How bout this weekend?” He gave me a small content grin and flashed his eyes at me again, It’s as if Q was carrying a boulder on his shoulders from the moment he stepped foot in the car and it’s finally rolled off.

“This weekend sounds great, babe.” His strong hand reached to my thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. As we approached his place, There was a shift in the way we looked at each other and the lustful nature that we typically keep around each other is now overshadowed by one of adoration and tranquility.

#brian quinn #brian quinn x reader #brian quinn x you #impractical jokers #impractical jokers fanfiction #Q x reader #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic

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hwasdvlly · 6 months

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Spooky Fun | p.seonghwa

☆ summary: it's halloween and the family decides to do something extraordinary.

☆ pairing: seonghwa x fem!reader

☆ genres: romance, fluff, and family

☆ word count: 1k words

☆ warnings/tags: none. established relationship, idol!seonghwa, non-idol!reader, married couple, star wars cosplay, very soft moments

☆ a/n: happy halloween my beautiful readers!

October 31st is the last day of the month and the time for a spooky celebration.

For this year’s costume theme, Seonghwa chose no other than his favorite movie franchise, Star Wars. He had always wanted to be Anakin Skywalker. Now, he wanted to try it out with his three beloveds: you and the little stars Seonghan and Hyeseong.

The oldest child is Park Seonghan. Atinys nicknames him as ‘mini-Seonghwa’ because he looks so identical to his father that it’s uncanny. Seonghan even has a gentle and bright personality with a hint of wittiness, like Seonghwa.

The youngest child, Park Hyeseong, is more of a shy little girl. But underneath her shyness is a lovely angel who is a passionate dancer and enjoys drawing cute animals and nature. Like her mother, she inherited an elegant beauty. Hyeseong is more of a mommy’s girl, but she does consider her appa as her best friend and the hero of her life.

“This is where the fun begins.” Seonghwa checks himself out through a full-length mirror and tries to act all mysterious and lethal. He has on his costume, which is handmade, and his toy lightsaber. Seonghwa will forever be a kid at heart, and he is happy that his dream of Halloween came true.

“I think you’re having too much fun as Anakin.” You walked out of the bathroom. You are Padme Amidala. It’s very appropriate for you and Seonghwa.

He turns and sees you in a pretty olive green dress with a hoodie over your soft curls. Seonghwa grins, “I can’t help it. I wonder what our little stars will look like.” He goes up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. Everything about you is beautiful. He is glad that you are down to do this idea of a celebration. You rest your hands on his chest. You lift your eyes to meet his gorgeous, deep brown orbs. “They’re going to look so cute! I think their uncles will die of cuteness.” You let out a giggle.

Seonghwa smirks, “Hell yeah, they will. Our kids are the best.” He is so prideful and supportive of his little ones that he does sound cocky at times. You snickered and shook your head. “I agree, but please, don’t embarrass them.” As much as you deeply love Seonghwa, he exaggerates almost everything.

“Since we are talking about our little stars, why not see them,” Seonghwa suggested. You beamed and nodded.

The married couple intertwined their fingers to go to their children’s room. Seonghan and Hyeseong share a space because there aren’t a lot of rooms in the house, but they get along together.

“Hannie, Hye. Are you guys ready for Halloween?” You asked the kids.

“Yes, we are!” They answered in unison.

Upon arriving in their room, you and Seonghwa gasped at the sight of Seonghan and Hyeseong. They look so cute!

Seonghan is The Mandalorian. He has artificial berserk armor and a helmet. Hyeseong is Grogu. She has those green protruding ears as a headband, the brown robe, and her hair in twin tails.

“You guys look awesome!” Seonghwa couldn’t help but squeeze the life out of his babies. He bends down and brings them into his comfy arms. You smiled by the door frame at the wholesome moment. Seeing Seonghwa happy with the kids makes you fall in love with him all over again.

The father lets go and takes out his phone from his trousers. “Smile for grandpa, grandma, the uncles, and for us,” Seonghwa tells Seonghan and Hyeseong. The kids posed cutely for the camera, and their dad snapped hundreds of photos.

“Okay, okay, Hwa, that’s enough. We don’t want to be late.” You stopped your husband because he was going overboard. Seonghwa looks through the gallery and squeals. “So cute!! Look, love.” He shows you the little stars. You smiled merrily at their cuteness.

“This is the way.” Seonghan points to the exit of the front door. The Park Family are putting on their shoes and carrying their Halloween buckets.

“Patu!” Hyeseong shouted. Her parents burst out laughing at her adorable imitation.

“Yes, sir.” Seonghwa opened the door for his loved ones, and they began to march outside.

Hyeseong holds your hand as she swings your arm back and forth. Their home isn’t far from the KQ Building, so it’s much easier for Seonghwa to go to work. As they walked on the streets, people noticed them in their Star Wars costumes. It caught everyone’s attention.

Seonghwa also noticed a few Atinys saying ‘hi’ to them. Seonghan politely greeted them, and they happily squealed at the sweet boy.

Once arriving at your husband’s workplace, the employees dress in costumes, and they kindly give the children candy. Hyeseong tries to ask for a sweet treat and not be shy. But for real, who can’t resist an angel?

The party is on the rooftop of the KQ Building. It’s not something Seonghwa and the guys have done before, but since Seonghan and Hyeseong are joining, they want it to be special.

As they reached the top of the level of the place, Seonghwa opened the door for his family. They were welcomed by fun and frightening decorations and the tasty aroma of food. Last but not least, ATEEZ in their costumes.

“Hannie!”

“Hye, my love!”

The seven members approach the little stars for a big bear hug. They even gave them candy because they truly love them.

Hongjoong gathers Hyeseong into his arms and plants a kiss on her plush cheeks. He is her favorite uncle, and he does enjoy being one. Except he spoils the heck out of her. Seonghan doesn’t have a favorite uncle, but he does prefer to be with the 99 liners. Seonghwa doesn’t know if he should be concerned if his son will get influenced by their antics or end up being a little mischievous.

“Nice Star Wars getup.” Jongho commented with a gleeful smile. He and the members are impressed by the family’s efforts to look like the characters.

“Let me guess,” Yunho puts a finger on his lips. “It was Hyung’s idea.” He says without sounding clueless.

You chuckled and nodded. “It was also Hwa’s turn to choose a theme. The kids liked the idea as well.” You look at your husband with love in your eyes.

Seonghwa sees it and puts on a proud expression. His heart was filled with happiness.

#ateez #atiny #ateez fluff #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa ateez #seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x female reader #park seonghwa x y/n #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa imagines

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kekaki-cupcakes · 1 month

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Heyyy can you please write something for Nico x male reader where Nico has seen reader around camp and reader is friendly and always laughing and talking with everyone. And Nico develops a crush on reader and eventually he decides to confess to reader when he sees them in the woods. Fluffy mainly but like a little spicey at the end if u do that stuff? :)

hey there bestie, let's pretend it hasn't been two months. this fic is also for @golden-boy-muda 's request for nico x transmasc reader <3

I couldn't find an idea in my empty ol head for this request but then I was looking for old oil painting wallpapers for my phone and now you have this incredibly sappy 3.2k of art references [I advise you keep another tab open for cross-referencing if you want the fUlL eXpErIeNcE]

Oil on Canvas--- Nico di Angelo x transmasc reader [3.2k] »»————-　★　————-««

Nico definitely isn’t a stalker, he understands boundaries [once Jason explains them to him, of course], but he might have a bit of a staring problem.

Sometimes he’s just eating gluten free waffles with Hazel in the dining pavilion and ends up watching you shove your siblings around and plait your little sister's hair so it doesn’t get in her face when she goes Pegasus riding.

He spooned some blueberries onto his plate.

It’s not his fault.

It’s yours, if anything. What is he supposed to do apart from feel like there’s moths beneath his ribcage when you pose, your nose scrunched, up for photos with Drew’s polaroid camera that’s covered with inappropriate stickers?

Hazel elbowed him meaningfully in the side when he couldn’t help but grin because Holy Hades, a single person shouldn’t be able to look that much like the painting Ophelia [by friedrich heyser, to be specific], just because they wore a green camp shirt and a pearl necklace.

Maybe it was his fault that he was comparing you to beautiful paintings.

He scooped the blueberries onto his half eaten waffle and reached for the maple syrup Hazel had finished drowning her breakfast in.

The Stoll brother’s mortal mum had sent a stack of paintings from art galleries all over the world last Christmas, and they’d let him pick out a few of the older more poetic ones that didn’t have enough blood and guts for their taste.

Now the oil paintings of lakes and birds and crying angels and… mainly cats, actually, hung around the dark walled Cabin he slept in.

Your laugh when you threw strawberries at Kayla and Austin while they worked in the infirmary reminded him of Angel [carl von marr, of course] and he felt like Chat a difficult catch [charles van den eycken] when you walked right past him without even glancing back.

So he’d made peace with watching from afar how you would forget daily to put sunscreen on but somehow always remembered to wear this pair of white crocheted gloves that looked like cat paws.

On a completely irrelevant note, Nico was learning to crochet.

Hazel made eye contact with him again when he looked from you to her, and he plugged his ears and glared before she started kicking him in the shins and begging him to pluck up the courage to walk over and even just make eye contact.

Not that he didn’t want to.

He may have lined up in his catalog of daydreams, this scenario where you both went down to the beach. Any beach, really. You’d collect shells and eat popcorn and grapes and lemonade and squish sand between your toes and pick up crabs with him.

PROMENADE ON THE BEACH [Charles Atamian, obviously].

There was another scenario where he’d take you to the farmers market. It had the biggest bouquets of flowers, and rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables and incense and beaded jewelry.

When he was laying in bed underneath the fluffy zebra patterned duvets that Piper forced him to use, mainly because they matched the dark reds of the cushions and browns of the bookshelves and antique lamps in the cabin so well, you were walking down the rows of little stores with him.

You were holding his hand with those soft cat paw gloves and you liked the feel of his rings [he’d read that people liked rings in a book, somewhere] and you’d filled the Studio Ghibli tote bag you had with berries.

He’d watched most of the movies after he saw your bag. He liked Arriety the best.

Clarisse stomped past the Hades table, leaving bloody footprints no one asked about, and smacked him in the back of his head. Nico went back to eating his waffles and daydreaming about your smile.

In the farmers market you would sniff candles and never buy them because Hazel had far too many for all of her spells and the such that he would never run out. And what was Hazel’s was his and what was his was hers, meaning that what was Hazel’s was yours.

Because Nico would give everything he owned, even his favorite jacket, for you to look his way.

And he would buy you flowers, whichever were your favorite.

Maybe the ones from the painting Hazel forced him to take because ‘you can’t just not hang a painting that literally is you, Neeks’.

Italian Girl with Flowers. Joaquin Sorolla. 1886.

He didn’t see the resemblance.

But it didn’t really matter, because he’d get to watch you looking at all the cool things for sale and then he’d take you to the best gelato he’d found so far [he was making a list] or just use the shadows, and take you to a proper gelato shop. Whatever you wanted to do, really.

Nico blinked. He huffed, mainly at himself, and stabbed his waffle. It fell apart on the fork.

“Why’re you angry?”

He looked up from his plate, to Hazel. She was sitting opposite him with a mustache made of orange juice. “...I’m not.”

“You’re not supposed to be pushing down your emotions, remember?” she said sternly, and started picking the green bits off a strawberry. She was eating as many berries as she could, since she wasn’t allowed lollies anymore. The perks of braces.

Nico looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking about the cat glove girl, aren’t you?” she asked with a smirk.

“Cat glove boy, remember?” he muttered, and took a bite of his waffle, wiping squished blueberries off his chin.

Hazel’s golden eyes widened, “Oh yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he said, and was grateful for the excuse to peek your way. You were eating toast. Very pretty-ily. He felt his face heat up.

Hazel perked up, a mischievous grin he didn’t appreciate on her face. “Okay! I’ll go apologize to your boyfriend then-”

Nico stared at her. Why was she like this? She actually went to stand up, and then he yanked her sleeve, pulling her back down to the table. “No! Don’t just… you can’t… stop!”

“You didn’t deny that he’s your boyfriend,” Jason chuckled, sitting down next to Hazel.

“I hate you all,” Nico said.

It was torture.

He felt like Sleepy time potion [Vanessa Stockhard], stuck in the middle of your loveliness, unable to do anything except stare and hope that his face wasn’t too as red as the mushroom he was sitting on.

In the painting.

Not in real life.

Obviously.

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico stared down at the hat in his lap.

He’d done it. He’d actually finished one of the hundreds of projects he’d started in Piper’s efforts to find him a hobby that wasn’t sitting on the fences of cemeteries or standing in line at Mcdonalds.

He had lots of other hobbies, he just… couldn’t come up with them when she was arguing with him.

So they’d gone through writing, painting, records, sleeping, which he excelled in, and then crocheting. None had lasted very long, but he may have had an idea half way through trying to stab Piper with the crocheting stick.

And now he had a white bucket hat with cat ears.

He threw it to the end of his bed, and hid underneath his duvet. Fuck.

Repose. Malcolm Liepke. 1953.

What on Olympus was he supposed to do about the way he wanted to hold you so badly he felt like throwing up and tearing his hair out?

He lay underneath in the pocket of stuffy darkness for a moment, before sitting up, untangling his blankets and teddies from him, and then standing. He may have just had the greatest idea anyone had ever thought of before.

Hazel was still in the shower, singing, most likely, so he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack that was actually just a skeleton, and then stomped out of his cabin, the stupid hat in his fist.

His heart was beating wildly. Stupid heart.

The Wedding Dress. Fred Ellwell. 1911.

He rubbed his face and groaned at the sky. The stars were just peeking out, but it was still pink and yellow, and the sun hadn’t dipped yet. It was hidden by the trees he was trudging through, though.

Fuck.

His chest was hurting.

Nico scrunched up the stupid perfect crocheted hat that just had to stupidly perfectly match your stupid perfect cat gloves because Nico was stupidly perfectly obsessed with you.

You, who was stupidly perfect.

Fuck.

Psyche Weeping. Kinuko Y Craft. 1995.

He trod on twigs that broke underneath his boots and weaved through the tree’s that slowly became more and more laden with hanging pendants and wind chimes and ruins carved into the bark.

He stepped over a thin stream. A frog croaked at him like it was dying. As if it could ever feel like it was dying. As if it could ever fall in love.

Nico groaned at the sky again.

“Just let it all out.”

He turned, and glared. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, actually,” Lou Ellen said, raising a purple eyebrow. It matched the undersides of her curly hair. She pointed to the cabin concealed in shadows and moss and stones behind her. “This is my house. And you are yelling very loudly.”

“I’m not yelling,” Nico argued. “I’m groaning.”

She stared at him for a second. She rolled her eyes. “Just come in, what do you need?”

“I need a spell. Or a charm. Or hex,” Nico said, following her through the wooden double doors. A wind chime tinkled even though the air was still. There were a few bunks lined up against the wall to one side. “Or a magic thing. I don’t care which one.”

The rest of the cabin was filled with small coffin shaped pet beds and empty pink soda cans and voodoo dolls hanging from the roof and rugs with cats wearing strawberry hats on the fluffy material and misty crystal balls.

Lou Ellen lent back on a desk stacked high with papers and paperweights that were actually jars filled with things. “Okay. I have three rules. I don’t kill people, and I don’t make people fall in love.”

“...And?”

“I’ll break both if it’ll be fun?”

Nico frowned. “No. Aren’t you supposed to say you won’t bring people back from the dead? That’s always the third rule.”

She squinted at him. “Uh…no. I send those people to you.”

Nico squinted back at her, sticking his tongue out. He fiddled with the stupid perfect hat and looked around. There was just more creepy things and stuffed animals. “Whatever. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I need you to… like,” Nico started. He sighed. He looked away.

This was awful.

He was not about to admit that he might be in love, even if it was to reverse the feelings in the first place with whatever heart ripping out brain altering magic was necessary.

The Apollo cabin would find out through the witch in less than thirty seconds. He would never live it down.

Nico groaned again. “Oh for fucks sake, do you need me to fic your voicebox or something?” Lou Ellen hissed.

Nico glared at her. He groaned again, and then whirled around and stomped out of the weird mossy mushroom cabin. “Nevermind!”

“Fine! Have it your way!...weird little emo.”

Nico glared at the frog croaking at him, and kept walking through the forest.

He followed the little stream through the woods until he could hear wind chimes or Taylor Swift’s latest album anymore.

The little stream widened into a proper stream, filled with a lot more frogs. Why were there so many frogs? He nearly stood on a green one leaping across the path. Stupid frog.

Nico stuffed his hands into his pockets, along with the hat. He was tempted to just toss it into the river. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of the silly feelings that felt like the biggest things in the world to him and his silly head full of thoughts about your lips.

Maybe the frogs could use the hat as a home.

“Here froggie… Come here… I said, come here... No I am not taking a tone with you!”

Nico froze.

Fuck. He took a deep breath, probably too loudly. He glanced to the side.

Of course you were catching frogs, knee deep in a river.

You looked over, making eye contact, and Nico realized the moths underneath his ribcage were turning into bats. You squinted at him, hands on your hips, while water swirled around and leaves drifted from the trees above. A bucket was wedged between two rocks next to you.

A frog jumped out of it and landed near your leg, on a lillypad.

“Look Albert,” you said, turning to the frog. “It’s a little Victorian ghost.”

“...I’m Italian,” Nico said quietly. He stared at you. He couldn’t help it. Wow. Fuck. Leo was right. He really was pathetic. “And I’m not a ghost.”

“Okay, Victorian ghost.”

Nico stared at you. Fuck.

After that exchange, he should be able to hate you. Right? Right. He now resented you, and the moths turned bats would stop clawing at his chest and he would go back to having a normal life.

Right?

Wrong.

You squinted at Nico, and then slowly turned to Albert. “I think the cute Victorian ghost is having a stroke.”

Nico blinked once, gulped, and then marched forward through the cold water and frogs, his shoes squelching loudly. Gods. This was so embarrassing. But you thought he was cute, even if you also thought he was a dead english boy, so he would be content with dying from embarrassment.

He shoved the stupid perfect hat into your stupid perfect hands.

And then left in about 0.3 seconds.

»»————-　★　————-««

You stared down at your pancakes. Why were they so gray looking? Had someone poisoned them? You figured that it would be a pretty good way to die, and tipped extra maple syrup onto them before you dug in.

To counterbalance the poison, of course.

You scratched at the mosquito bite underneath the strap of your binder. It had flowers embroidered into it. Your binder. Not the mosquito bite.

One of your siblings across from you kicked at your shin, probably on purpose, but you continued to eat your odd tasting pancakes and picked blueberry grit off your white cat paw gloves. They were your favorite gloves.

They also matched your new hat. The new hat that the cute Victorian but actually Italian ghost boy had given you before he teleported away with whatever dark magic he had stored in all that goth-ness.

You tossed a blueberry at Clarisse when she walked past and tried to bash you over the head.

She wasn’t allowed to ruin your new hat.

You turned to see her flicking the blueberry over at someone else, and your eyes flicked past that too. Now way. You stood up, but you’d lost sight of the mess of dark hair when the Hermes cabin barrelled past.

You clambered onto your seat and stood up there. “Oi! Victorian ghost hat boy!”

The dining pavilion went quiet pretty quickly, and everyone turned to the cute guy with a skeleton hoodie and wide eyes. He pointed at himself when you pointed at him, and then went pink.

Clarisse stuck her arm out so you didn’t faceplant when you jumped down from your seat, and you held onto your new hat as you traipsed across the cracked floor.

You’d never figured out how that crack had got there. But there were bigger mysteries.

Like this cute goth.

His face just pinker when you grabbed his sleeve and tried to tug him out of the entire camp’s curious eyes. A dark skinned girl with a lot of butterfly clips and a Steven Universe t-shirt sent a thumbs up in your direction.

It was only when you were standing by the low burning fire pit in a patch of daisies did you realize you hadn’t really planned far enough ahead.

You took off the cat-ear hat and looked down at it. “...Uhm…”

“Sorry,” the goth said quickly, and when you made eye contact he looked away even quicker. “It’s creepy. Boundaries and stuff, I just… saw your gloves.”

“It’s not creepy,” you argued, putting the hat back on with a grin. He was really cute when he blushed. “I mean, I don’t even know your name, and I have no idea who you are but your eyeliner is really really great and… Holy Hades if you smile like that again can I… please kiss you?”

The goth with no name stared at you, and then nodded about ten times too many. “Yes please. But, uh.. If you’re gonna kiss me, please, maybe don’t get my dad involved.”

“...Wut?”

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico could feel his cheeks growing hotter.

Not because of the sun, specifically, but it was hot and bright in the woods. He’d worn sunscreen though. And forced you to put it on too, once he’d found watermelon scented sunscreen, because you refused to smell gross no matter how sunburnt you would get anyways.

His face was hot and red because of you.

You, who was stupidly perfect and also possibly kind of Nico’s stupidly perfect boyfriend.

“Psst, Victorian ghost boy,” you said with a sing-song voice, quietly, and waved your hand in front of his eyes with your pink, blue, and white painted nails. He blinked. You smiled. “You zoned out again.”

“Sorry,” Nico said, and pulled a daisy out of the ground. He handed it over. “I was thinking about you.”

He hadn’t realized the effect that saying that would have on you, but it was worth it when you opened and closed your mouth like one of the frogs you kept as pets.

“I.. well, what were you thinking about?”

Nico had played his cards right. He smirked, and you shuffled forwards on the checked picnic blanket Piper had stolen from Drew, who’d probably nicked it from poor unsuspecting Demeter or Iris kid. You knocked over the basket of strawberries too, and then took your bucket hat off and stuffed it in your lap with a grin.

He tilted his head down. You were both following a very well rehearsed script. “...Kissing you?”

You launched yourself forwards then with a laugh, your cat-paw gloved hands landing on either side of his waist and probably squishing some of those strawberries at the same time.

The sun reflected in your eyes and Nico held the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours.

You kissed back, and once you both stopped smiling widely, you could kiss back.

Properly.

He scratched his fingernails, the ones you’d painted rainbow that afternoon after catching more frogs and complaining about sunscreen, along your jaw when you bit down on his bottom lip.

Not as a complaint, certainly not, and you knew that too because you just sat back on your knees between Nico’s lap and tilted your head to fit deeper against Nico’s bruised lips.

The ones that hadn’t had a single day off since you jumped up in the middle of breakfast with your gluten free waffles you hadn’t realized were gluten free until he had explained it to you later.

It was intensely crazily unbearably romantic but it also meant whatever cold one of you managed to catch, the other would come down with only minutes later.

And Nico felt like that smug little cat from Julie Manet’s Auguste Renoir.

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #nico #nico pjo #nico di angelo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #nico di angelo x reader #nico x reader #nico di angelo pjo #pjo hoo toa #hoo #nico di angelo x you #nico di angelo reader #nico di angelo x transmasc reader #lou ellen #lou ellen pjo

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ponkwan · 1 year

Text

⌗ ⸰ ₊⠀ SUNKISSED !

the one where you have a photo taking session with seungkwan under the sun.

pairing: seungkwan x reader

word count: 0.6k

rating: g

content: fluff, established relationship au

warning/s: none (or maybe cheesiness, does that count?)

You don’t mean to stare. You really don’t. But it becomes inevitable, especially in cases like this wherein the sun is hitting his hair and face in all the right places, perhaps giving anyone that has spared him a glance the impression that he is actually glowing.

Seungkwan continues to look through his phone, not paying you any attention as he scans along the pictures you’ve taken of him moments ago. You don’t know why he’s scrutinizing them so much, as you’re sure that he’s a lot more photogenic than he thinks (and as you are; as much as you hate to admit it, he is) and so whenever your boyfriend also forgets to initiate taking your picture in return as quickly as you want him to, you choose to just wait patiently and admire the real thing in front of your eyes instead of getting slightly annoyed.

“Have I ever told you that yellow is really your color?” you say all of the sudden, pertaining to the polo cover up he’s sporting, and that cuts him off from his focus, his gaze flickering to yours. “You look really handsome today.”

He smirks, even chuckles at the compliment. “You say that every time you take a pic of me.”

“That’s because it’s true.”

“I bet it is, honey,” he jokes, leaning towards you a bit to grant your lips a quick kiss of thanks.

You grin at the gesture, your feet stepping forward and your arms also inevitably wrapping themselves around his torso for an added act of affection while he continues to concentrate on his gallery. He lets you do what you want, his own arm landing on your shoulders once you’re settled on your new position.

After a while—too soon, you frankly think—Seungkwan speaks again. “Okay. Your turn.”

“Hm?”

He gently forces you to untangle yourself from him. “Your turn for the picture. Stand here by the railing.”

You understand then, and comply with what he’s instructing you.

One thing more about Seungkwan is that he is also a much better photographer than you are. You reckon that you only began being good in the first place when you started dating him as well; he knows all the good angles and the right frame ratio to produce a stunning picture. Though undoubtedly his best quality as your newfound photographer is how he’s not one to shy away from hyping your best features and boosting your confidence, always grinning at you and saying how pretty you look.

It makes you blush and feel like a kid sometimes, but you appreciate it, and most of the time, it also produces the most natural looking smiling pictures you have in your own phone album.

“Perfect,” he says as he approaches you after taking the last shot. “I think I deserve an Americano with how amazing I took the pictures.”

You snort, checking the photos as well. “Is that supposed to be a hint for me to treat you?” Your eye catches one picture that you’d like to post on your Instagram as you’re swiping left.

“Naturally.” His arm goes back to its previous place on your shoulders. “I’ll buy you a slice of cheesecake in return.”

“That somehow sounds like a fair deal.”

“That’s because it is a fair deal.”

“So, I buy the drinks and you buy the dessert?”

“Yup.”

“Hm, okay.” You grin at him then. “Let’s go. I want to sit down.”

He laughs and nods, lifting his arm up to go reach for your hand, swinging it between the both of you while you head to the nearest café.

thank you for reading ! feedback is always appreciated ☻

#seventeen #seungkwan #boo seungkwan #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen drabbles #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan drabbles #seungkwan imagines #boo seungkwan imagines #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan drabbles

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spicy-picklez · 1 year

Text

Rainbow after a Storm (P8)

Includes:

Praise kink, marking kink, overstimulation, sub!Larissa, teasing, fingering, eating out, aftercare.

Characters:

Larissa Weems x fem!reader (principal x 18y student)

Summary:

Wednesday gets your attention in the worst way, getting you to help her with a special occasion. Larissa and you spend some more time… *bonding*

Word Count:

3.5k

——————————————————————————

A/N: I feel like my chapters are getting worse, the less sleep I have. I genuinely haven’t slept in 82 hours 🤭

——————————————————————————

Later in the evening, you lay with your back pressed to Larissa’s side, her arm wrapped around your waist as you rest your head on her shoulder. Her blonde hair cascades down past shoulder-length, two strands shaping her face. Sitting on the bed, she reads aloud from her favourite series, Hush Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick. Her voice is soothing on your ears, closing your eyes, enjoying the serenity of the moment, as the sun gently falls onto your skin. However, Larissa’s voice is cut off as your phone sounds with text notifications. Picking up your phone, your lock screen consists of multiple messages, all but one saying “Nesie Addams has sent a photo.” Your mouth goes dry as you open the messages. A series of pictures from last night show Larissa transforming in Jericho to hug you.

Nesie: Now I don’t want to say I told you so but… I told you it’d be more than just ‘Larissa’ soon enough. ;)

You: Nesie, what the fuck! Where are you? Where’d you get these?

Nesie: I took them the other day when I went down to get Enid her 3 month anniversary gift. I’m in my room, guessing you’ll be here soon?

You: You are so dead, Nesie.

Nesie: Ooh I’m keen for a challenge.

“Everything ok, my love?” Larissa asks, watching your fingers flying over your phone screen with an incredible rate. You nod, her voice bringing you back to reality. “Yeah, I just gotta go see Nesie for a bit.” She can feel your pulse against her skin before she removes her arm from over your shoulder, letting you move out from her embrace. Grabbing your uninjured arm, she gently squeezes it, causing you to turn and look at her. “Are you sure you’re ok?” Her eyes are full of concern as she looks up at you. You nod, a soft smile growing on your face as you gently lean forward, cupping her face with your free hand. Letting the gap between your faces close, your lips gently brush over hers. “I’m ok. I’ll fill you in when I get back.”

Satisfied with your answer, she lets go of your wrist after gently placing her lips on yours, electricity running through your veins. You gently graze her cheek with your hand as you walk over to the door, grabbing your jacket on the way. As your hand lands on the door handle, you look back, a cheeky grin on your face. “Oh and if anyone mentions anything about Wednesday tonight, it wasn’t me.” Larissa’s head sharply lifts from her book as you say this. “Y/N, what’s that supposed to mean?” You were already halfway out the door by the time she finished her question. “Bye hun, I’ll see you later.” The same cheeky grin from earlier reappears across your face as she continues to call after you.

Walking through her empty office, you sidle through the door and into the corridors, making a beeline for your old dorm. Barging through the door with a bang, you storm up to Wednesday who’s sitting at her typewriter. “Wednesday Friday Addams, delete those photos right now.” She turns around in her chair to face you, a smirk on her face.

“Oh don’t worry, I already have. I just wanted to prove a point.” She holds up her phone as proof, all messages gone from your conversation and like usual, absolutely nothing in her photo gallery except for Enid. “Nesie, you little shit.” A grin spreads across your face as you fall back onto your old bed. “So, you and the principal huh?” Looking at her, you nod, a giddy smile pulling at your lips. “You genuinely can’t tell anyone Nesie, not even Enid. Riss could lose her job and I’d get expelled if anyone finds out.”

“Calm down Y/N. It’s not going past me, I’d rather be welcomed by death’s sweet embrace before I’d even think about betraying you.” You nod, knowing she speaks the truth. “Well in that case, yes. As of this morning, we are officially girlfriends.” A rush of euphoria hits you, it feels amazing saying it. Larissa Weems, your goddess of a principal, is your girlfriend. “So, have you… you know?”

You sit up in shock. “Who are you and what have you done with Nesie? Since when have you ever wanted to know about my sex life?” Her face is expressionless as she looks at you. “I don’t. I just want to know how long it takes you to prove my statement from Friday.” Rolling your eyes at her, a blush spreads across your face. “Not long at all… we, you know, last night.”

“You guys couldn’t even make it a week?! My lord, I overestimated you. You moved into her room on Wednesday… it’s only Sunday Y/N and you’re telling me you fucked last night?!” Shock is plastered on her face as she stares at you. Quickly, you shush her, keeping aware of people walking the corridors. “Well when you put it like that, you make me sound like a whore. What about you and E? How long did it take you?” She rolls her eyes, dismissing the first part of your response. “We actually haven’t slept together yet. She’s still a virgin so I told her I’ll wait as long as she needs.”

“Well at least one of us has self control. That's really sweet of you Nesie.” Her eyes shoot daggers into your skull as she hears the last part.

“Use sweet to describe me again and I can guarantee the loss of all ten of your fingers.” Your hands shoot up above your head. “Please don’t, I need them.” She rolls her eyes. “I think you mean Principal Weems’ needs them.” You open your mouth to protest but Wednesday cuts you off. “Anyways, did you mind giving me a hand with something?” Raising an eyebrow, you signal for her to continue. “It’s Enid and I’s three month anniversary today and I’m about to set up a movie night by the lake for her but I forgot to grab her flowers. Could you potentially grab some pink dahlias from Ms Thornhill’s classroom for me?”

“Nesie, first off, you know if you want my help you can just ask and I’ll be here, you don’t have to terrify me with those photos. Second, you do realise we destroyed her classroom yesterday right?” Her eyes light up with a cheeky glint as she responds. “Where’s the fun in just straight up asking though? But remember she’s growing some pink dahlias under the work benches around the classroom.” Exhaling deeply, you run your hand through your hair. “I don’t even know why I’m saying this but alright. I’ll meet you back here in 30 minutes.” Wednesday nods. “Thank you Y/N.”

“Yeah yeah, just don’t thank me too soon, I still haven’t figured out how to get them yet. Just go, set up the date, I’ll sort it out somehow.” You say as she grabs her projector, walking out the door. Waiting till she rounds the corner, you shut the door behind her. You shift into Coach Vlad and quickly dash into the corridor, closing the door as you start heading to the botany classroom. “This better fucking work.” You mutter, rounding the last corner.

Knocking on the classroom door, Ms Thornhill responds with a simple “yes?” Opening the door, you walk through. “Ah Vlad, what can I help you with?” She smiles up at you, well, Vlad. “I’m sorry to hear about your classroom Marilyn, but I was wanting to surprise my partner with their favourite flowers tonight. The only problem is, I can’t get them anywhere and I heard from the students that you had some pink dahlias growing, so I was wondering if I could have some?”

“Thank you, and of course you can, I’m lucky whoever ransacked it didn’t also raid my spare plant cupboards.” She grabs her key and walks over to the cupboards under the workbench by the door. Unlocking the door, she gathers a small bouquet of the pink flowers. “Thank you Marilyn, do you have any idea who destroyed your classroom?” You say, taking the bouquet from her. “No concrete proof but I have no doubt in my mind that Y/N was behind it.”

“Oh? What makes you so sure of that?” You prompt as she sighs. “I could swear it was her graffiti on the blackboard. However, Principal Weems said Y/N was in her room at the time of the incident.” You really need to change your tagging style. “Well what reason would Principal Weems have to lie? Especially over a student that causes her so much grief around school? Anyways, thank you again for the flowers Marilyn but I really must be going.”

“Not a problem coach. Hope your partner likes the flowers.” She says as you nod, walking out of the classroom. Stepping into a nearby empty classroom, you shift back to your true form. Exiting the room with the flowers in your hand, you head back to your old dorm room where Wednesday is anxiously pacing. “I believe you ordered a bouquet of pink dahlias.” You say, as she turns around on her heels. “Thank you Y/N, I owe you.” You give her a smile. “You’re welcome, Nesie, enjoy your night.” Saying your goodbyes, you head back to your room.

Walking back through the door, Larissa smiles as she looks up from the page she’s reading. She’s still in the same position you left her in, just a lot further through the book. “Well I must admit, it’s a nice change not seeing you being escorted in by a teacher again.” A cheeky smirk grows on her face as she says this. Walking over to her, you can’t help the smile pulling at your lips as you take in the pinkish glow illuminating her skin from the sunset peeking through the window. “Yeah well, maybe being in your good books isn’t so bad.” Her eyebrow raises as you say this. “Oh?”

Gently trailing your fingers up her thigh with one hand, the other cups her face as you press your lips against hers, her hands wrapping around your waist. She runs her tongue over your lip, asking for entry, which you gladly give to her. Her hands grasp at your hips, lifting you into her lap. Your thighs on either side of her legs, straddling her lap as the kiss deepens. One of her hands trails up your body to grasp your hair, pulling your head back, a soft moan escaping you as she does. With free access to your neck, she leaves a trail of soft kisses from behind your ear down to your collarbone. “Larissa…” Her name rolls off your tongue as she gently bites down your shoulder, running her tongue over the bite mark, sucking at your skin.

You grin as she pulls away, admiring the bruise already spreading over your skin. “And this is why I quite like being in your good books.” You say, making her chuckle as she rests her forehead against yours. “I do believe you said that you’d fill me in on why you ran off earlier love. So come on, I’m curious.”

“Well you remember how that long string of texts came through? It was Nesie, sending photos of us last night in Jericho. More specifically when you shifted forms to hug me.” Her lingering smile drops as she hears this. “Who’s Nesie? How fucked are we?” You laugh.

“Nesie is Wednesday, so not at all. She just wanted me in her room to help her get some pink dahlias from Ms Thornhill. It’s hers and Enid’s three month anniversary tonight and she was busy setting up the date. She knows about us and she’s not going to tell anyone, you know Wednesday, she’ll take it to her grave if it involves me.” Larissa’s expression softens as she lets out a sigh of relief as she hears this. “And Marilyn just gave you the flowers?”

Sheepishly grinning, you rub the back of your neck. “Not exactly. I shifted forms to Coach Vlad and made up some bullshit about him wanting to surprise his partner with their favourite flowers. I don’t even know what his relationship status is but it worked.” She proudly grins as she hears this. “That’s my girl.” You can’t help the red flushing across your cheeks. Her girl. You’re still not used to hearing it, but you weren’t at all complaining. “I also found out some information about us damaging her classroom yesterday.” You hint and Larissa nods.

“She told you that I said you were in my room didn’t she?” It was her turn to blush now as you nod. “Why’d you do that?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. She chuckles. “This doesn’t leave this room but I like Marilyn about half as much as one likes being shit on by a bird.” You choke, unable to hold in your laughter. “You and I both, my love.” Getting off her lap, she wraps her arm around you. “Can you read to me again?” You ask.

“Love, I’m a few chapters ahead now.” She chuckles as you shrug. “And? I’ve read this series through so many times. I just love hearing your voice, it’s calming.” Placing a kiss on your forehead, she indulges your request. Her hand draws random shapes on her hip as the soothing sound of her voice fills your ears.

“The most irrational part of all was that I still didn’t want to believe he would kill me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t smother that illogical speck of trust.” She pauses, flipping the page, scrunching up her nose. “Ew, straight sex. I don’t wanna read that stuff.” She flips through a few more pages before finding a new place to start as you laugh at her reaction. “Ah, here we go. Soft popping sounds echoed in my ears, and a blurry black framed my vision. I tried to fill my lungs, but it was like the air had disappeared.”

Your hand trails from the middle of her chest, slowly down to the hem of her skirt. Her breath hitches as you start lazily stroking up her inner thigh. “Keep going, love.” You say, your fingers getting ever so close to her panty-clad cunt. “T-the world tilted, and Patch slipped sideways in my vision.” A small moan escapes her mouth as you slowly start running your thumb from her clit to her entrance through the thin sheet of fabric covering her. Grinning, as she tries to regain her composure, you hook your fingers under the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her legs.

Repositioning yourself in between her legs, you begin to lay kisses along the inside of her thigh. “Keep reading love, be a good girl for me.” You murmur, licking up her thigh, sucking the sensitive skin into your mouth. Taking a deep breath, she continues. “I flattened my hand to the wall to steady my balance. The deeper- Mmnhh fuck, Y/N!” Her head goes flying back as you lay a gentle kiss to her clit, teasing her entrance with two fingers, feeling her juices coat your hand.

“Somehow I don’t think those are the words baby. Though they do sound divine coming from you.” You murmur, a smile on your face as your lips brushing gently over her clit with each word, making her whimper. “Y/N, please, I need you.” She begs and how could you deny such a request? Taking the book from her hand, you close it, placing it away from her as you grab at her shirt. “Off. Now.” You say before pressing your tongue firm against her clit, flicking your tongue up and down over the sensitive mound. Sitting up, she pulls her shirt over head and it gets sent flying off somewhere in the general direction of the floor. Quickly plunging two fingers inside of her, she arches her back off the bed, letting off a string of heavenly moans. You take the opportunity to reach your free hand under her back, unclasping her bra in one swift hand motion. Your arm swoops under her thigh, lifting it up over your shoulder giving you deeper access to her dripping cunt. Curling your fingers inside her, you grin as her legs jerk from the depth of them.

Slowly drawing your fingers out, you plunge them back in as your tongue continues to pick up speed on her clit, switching between licking and sucking. Your free hand reaches up her body to intertwine with her hand that was desperately grasping at the sheets until her knuckles were white. Her other hand reaches down and tangles itself in your hair, pushing you further into her. Your eyes flick up her body as your tongue continues pleasuring her sensitive mound, your right hand curling in and out of her soaking cunt, your left hand switching its attention between each of her nipples. The heavenly gasps and moans she let out were too much. “Look at me.” You growl, dramatically increasing the pace of your fingers inside her. Her blue eyes lock onto yours, her legs starting to tremble. She was close, her eyes begging for just that little bit more. Bringing her clit into your mouth, you suck on it, moaning. The vibrations on her clit were too much and she came undone over your tongue, your name falling off her lips in a pleasured scream as her thighs squeeze around your ears, shaking uncontrollably. Her hand in your hair tries to pull your head away. Completely unfazed, you continue sucking on her clit, your fingers working her up to another orgasm. “Y/N please, I can’t.”

Removing your hand from her breasts, you grasp her hand. “Yes you can darling, just breathe and relax. I’ve got you.” Your hand gives hers a comforting squeeze, your thumb gently rubbing over the back of her hand as her legs start trembling again. “Good girl, you can cum on the count of three, baby. One…” You bring her clit into your mouth, gently sucking on it, earning a string of whimpers and moans. “Two…” Your fingers push inside her, twisting against her sweet spot. “Y/N, please.” She whimpers. On three, you replace your mouth on her clit with your palm from the fingers pumping in and out of her, gently nipping at the inside of her thigh. “Oh, Y/N!” A guttural moan escapes her as her entire body jerks, her pussy clenching tightly around your fingers. Her chest rises heavily as you slow everything down, helping her ride out her high. She could swear she was seeing stars as the familiar lightheaded feeling rushes through her veins.

“That's my good girl. You look so gorgeous, Riss.” Slowly, you slide your fingers out of her over-sensitive hole. Taking each of your fingers in your mouth, you slowly suck off her juices. “You taste so good my love.” You say, leaning forward to brush your lips over hers. “I’ll be back, I’m just going to grab a few things, ok?” She nods, still unable to form words, her body still sensitive from its high. You grab a glass from the kitchen, filling it up with water before walking into the bathroom, you run a small towel under the water, squeezing out the excess liquid before returning to her. She gratefully accepts the glass of water, you brush her sweat covered hair out of her eyes, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. You recenter yourself between her legs, making her eyes widen. “W-what are you doing?”

“It’s ok baby, I’m just cleaning you up. No more, I know you’re sensitive, you did so well for me, my love.” She gasps as the cold towel touches her skin, gently wiping away the liquid leaking down her thighs. You place another soft kiss against her thigh, getting up to put the towel in the washing basket before returning to her. You turn off the bedside lamp as you lean over her, shutting the curtains. Getting into bed with her, she pushes herself against you making you chuckle. “Come here, my love.” She lies with her head on your chest, your hand stroking through her hair, placing the occasional kiss on her forehead as you shower her with compliments.

“I’ve never had anyone do this before.” She shyly admits. “What? Aftercare?” You ask, your heart dropping as she nods. “Love, I’m so sorry. You should always have aftercare after sex.” You say, placing a gentle kiss on her lips before pulling her body closer to yours. “Is there anything else you need?” You whisper, your hand returning to her head, gently massaging her scalp. “This is perfect, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me darling, I will always make sure you’re taken care of afterwards. Now try to get some sleep, you have work tomorrow.” You murmur as she nods against your chest, letting out a yawn as you smile. “You deserve the world and more Riss.” You quietly say as she drifts off to sleep. It’s only then that you allow yourself to sleep, holding her in your arms as both of your soft snores fill the room.

——————————————————————————

#larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems #woman x woman #nevermore #forbidden romance #forbidden love

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sugafairy · 1 year

Note

Can you do bts’ reaction to you confessing first? Also just wondering if u accept MTL asks as well??

Hi anon! I've decided to split this in 2 parts! Please click here for Maknae Line :) I also do MTLs as well!

Genre: fluff

Please don’t forget to like/reblog!

Hyung Line

Jin

He liked you. Or you thought he did. Maybe? Possibly? Surely? There were so many signs. Like the time he picked you up after your horrendous date with a class-mate, who got too drunk way too quickly. Or like the time he stayed on the phone with you on the phone because you watched another scary movie alone and you were terrified. Or even the fact that he stayed up most of the night on the phone with you anyway, long after you’d fallen asleep, just to hear you breathe. And more than anything, like the fact that he always let you have the first bite of his food whenever you were strolling past food markets - now that’s true love. You were sure he liked you-no, loved you.

Today, he sat next to you on your couch that was a little too small for two, and that’s when you told him. “I think I’m in love with you.” You mumbled under your blanket blushing furiously and he snapped his head toward you, dropping the controller in his lap. Oh how you wished the couch would swallow you right there. He gently pulled your blanket away from you and cupped your face.

“Finally”

Suga

“I like you.” You blurted out and smacked your hands against your mouth, fingers trembling. You took the cat out of the bag in the most ungraceful way, you were sure he’d think you were weird-

“Good thing I like you too” and he pecked the side of your head, just missing your cheek as the bus jolted.

J-hope

You two were so different yet you were best friends. He was loud yet you were quiet. Wherever he goes, you go. Wherever you went, he went. Parties weren’t your thing but they were definitely a Hoseok thing. Tonight, you stood in the middle of the library of Hoseok’s dad’s mansion, the comforting and nostalgic smell of old books filling the air. This soiree was masquerade themed and your garbs fit you perfectly. You had been dancing with a mysterious stranger all night and as things got hotter, you pulled them to the privacy of the library. You talked, swaying to the faint music now and again. He traced your waist gently before reaching for your purple mask.

“I knew it was you. It’s always been you” You breathed out and you kissed him deeply. He grabbed the back of your head, pressing against you with so much passion. You separated for air and he pressed his forehead against yours. “Always you, my love” He whispered.

Namjoon

Visiting galleries was a regular occurrence for you. You didn’t have anyone to go with, your friend’s choosing to forego although they were always apologetic. You didn’t mind much. The best trips to art galleries were by yourself, surrounded by history and your favourite music playing in your ears. You sauntered about, and stopped, smiling to yourself as you looked at another Monet piece. Soon enough, people began to crowd over the piece when you felt a sharp jab against your shoulder. “S-sorry!” A tall male, with silky black hair looked down at you. You both found yourself squished against each other. You winced and he looked down at you apologetically. "You trust me?" He said. You nodded apprehensively. He took your hand in his and swiftly weaved through the crowd. “Thanks” You whispered. He nodded, smiling. “You wouldn’t mind some company for the rest of the day, would you?” You grinned, shaking your head.

After exploring for the whole day, talking about everything and anything, you sat in the coffee shop huddled in the corner. You stared at him more as he spoke about his art degree, the way his mouth curled upwards joyfully and his dimple deepened. He was gentle, and awkward and much like the art piece you were just staring at, his eyes resembled the calmest of lakes. You thought love at first sight was so over-rated but you couldn't ignore the pounding of your heart.

“How is it that I like you this much after only spending a day with you?” You muttered and he grinned and blushed. "Does that mean you'll come with me to Yoshimoto's next exhibition?" He said.

"It's a date!"

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 11 months

Text

What Fools

June Drabbles 2022... in 2023 Days 16 & 25 - Flower Crown & Midsummer

A/N: Better 365 days late than never, right? Hahahaha. This was the ONE AND ONLY one shot that I did not finish from last year’s June drabble challenge, and damnit I wasn’t going to let another whole June pass without giving this one its due. Dieter and Reader deserve it so here we are. This one takes place in the Bad Idea universe, after Vena Amoris.

Word Count: 5, 636

Warnings: language, brief smut, mention of needles/tattooing, stupid fucking tabloids, Dieter’s hair in the sunlight

Summary: You have a gallery opening in L.A. Dieter has a part in a play in New York. You can’t be in two places at once, but you can do something to illustrate how important your relationship is - and how important it will always be.

You were already awake when your alarm sounded, the tingling chime mixing with the gravel of Dieter’s groan to draw a smile across your face. Good morning to you, too, Bravo. One of your hands came up to cover the arm that he’d flung heavily over you in an attempt to keep you in place while the other reached for your phone on the nightstand. Eyes still shut, you groped blindly until your fingers closed around the device and you let out a sigh. Time to start the day.

Dieter had a different suggestion, though, and he gave it to you as you finally blinked yourself awake enough to silence your alarm, his arm snaking more tightly around your middle.

“Throw it out the fucking window.” His lips were still pressed to the top of your shoulder, the skin there damp from the drag of his mouth and the flick of his tongue, which was what had actually woken you up. His warm breath combined with the low rumble of the words he spoke directly into your flesh sent a slow moving heat wave through your lower belly. The fact that you could feel him straining at his pajama pants, already half-hard, and not at all shy about it, only fueled the growing flame.

Oh, this man is going to be the death of me before eight a.m. on a Monday.

“Stay in bed until mine goes off.” His touch roved up beneath the hem of your tank top, fingertips brushing lightly over your abdomen before drifting up to stroke the underside and inner curves of your breasts. “I’m not done sleeping with you yet.”

You took a slow breath in through your nose, letting it out in a hum as you shifted your hips teasingly back into him. I can play that game, too. At the increased friction, he released a throaty sigh that devolved into something deeper, and you felt the scrape of his teeth where your neck met your shoulder. You’d purposely set your alarm twenty- five minutes earlier than you needed to, because you knew how difficult leaving the bed would be that morning. And because you knew Dieter, you knew he would do you no favors in making it any easier. And I don’t want him to.

Your grin grew as you rolled your lower half against him again. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Dieter.” Reaching back with the arm that had been resting atop his, you raked your fingernails through the untamed curls and waves of his hair. He responded with another groan from where he was mouthing at the skin behind your ear, the sound vibrating through you and spurring you on. “Can’t miss my flight. I have that dinner meeting, remember? And today’s your last dress rehearsal. You have to-”

He cut you short by turning you to your back and lowering himself down over you, pinning you to the bed with his hips. “Your flight’s not until noon, and I don’t have to be anywhere-” The tip of his nose trailed along your jawbone until his lips could land perfectly in the place that he knew would turn you to jelly before finishing his sentence. “-until two fucking thirty. And you know it.”

“Was it two thirty?” You hummed as your head tipped back into your pillow, exposing more of your throat to Dieter’s insatiable mouth. “I thought it was ten thirty.”

“Nope.” I know. He shook his head, the sleep rumpled ends of his hair tickling your chin as he kissed across your collarbone. Using one finger, he slid the strap of your top aside so he could continue. That feels amazing. Your hands dove under his shirt, palms gliding up the warm, wide plane of his back as the fabric bunched up on your forearms. “‘S two thirty.” He mumbled, letting you pull the practically threadbare undershirt over his head until he was only wearing it by the sleeves. “And until then?” Lifting himself onto his left elbow, he yanked his right arm free before switching to do the same on the other side, your body still caged beneath him and a mischievous glint chasing the rest of the grogginess from his eyes. “There’s only one thing on my agenda.”

You arched one eyebrow, tongue flicking out to wet your lips as you shifted your lower half against him. “Just one?”

Dieter didn’t hesitate before he nodded. “Just one.”

Within seconds your tank top had joined his tee on the floor, your underwear following not long after, and then the foil wrapper of a condom from your nightstand drawer fluttered down to top off the pile as Dieter got to work on his to-do list.

Summer had the tendency to either stretch and pull like boardwalk taffy, languid and slow, or else swirl to a rapid close, whipping from June straight into August with all the speed and grace of a hurricane. The current summer had been a mix of both. Dieter’s work had pulled him away to Los Angeles for the better part of June. While you missed him when he was away, you had been just as busy with the summer session you’d agreed to teach, and so the weeks had passed relatively quickly. Once he was back in your apartment, though - in your arms and in your bed - the two of you had worked to melt the hours instead of burn them away, relishing the few days that neither of you had any commitments outside of each other.

But with Dieter being cast in A Midsummer Night’s Dream for Shakespeare in the park, and you traveling for gallery openings and conferences, the two of you had to make due with the snippets of time you had together in the early hours and evenings when both of you were home. That was fine with you though, and you treated those mornings like the last drip of an ice cream cone, licking them from your fingers and savoring the flavor, letting it remind you of what was waiting once things wound down again in the Fall.

On the other side of September. When we… when I get to…

You gasped as he pulled back just enough to change his angle, his next thrust going deeper and pulling a low moan from your lips.

When I get to marry you, Dieter Bravo.

The thought of forever with him while he was buried inside you was almost enough to drag another strangled sigh from your lungs. But before that could happen, Dieter was kissing you, swallowing the sounds of your pleasure as though they could sustain him. As though he craved them just as much as he craved the rest of you. There was not a single thing about him that didn’t make you burn, and to know that he felt the same way about you only intensified it further.

The tip of your tongue slid across his lower lip before you took the fullness of it between your teeth and sucked. Dieter responded with a husky hiss of a sigh, and a devastatingly deliberate roll of his hips. A thin sheen of sweat had started to form over your skin from the heat that he was sending through your body in waves, but you urged him even closer with both of your palms pressed into his back as though you were trying to leave your handprints in the sand before the surf came through again. You released his lip to let out a low moan that started as his name and turned into something incoherent as one of his large hands came up to cup your left cheek. His patchy beard scratched along the right side of your jaw as he worked his mouth towards your ear, and with another agonizingly, delightfully slow thrust, he growled the words that would send you crashing over the edge.

“I Love you. So fucking much. All I need.”

You cried out as you came, the sound muffled by his flesh as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, but audible enough to pull him right along with you. Dieter moaned into your hair and the pillow as his hips snapped and stuttered out of rhythm, his fingers spreading wide against the side of your face. The angle of his arm gave you a full view of his tattoos - both the thick black lines of the open triangle, and the colorful recreation of one of the pieces you’d created together. You reached over to trail two fingers lightly over his inner forearm. His full weight pressed down on you then as he collapsed into you, your legs twining with his and both of you panting unevenly. Oh, fuck.

Closing your eyes you brought your hand up to the back of his head, fingers disappearing in his disheveled curls. “I love you, too, Dieter.” Your voice was thin and raspy but you knew he heard you. Making a loose grip in his hair, you tugged to lift his face level with yours, a soft shine present in his deep brown eyes that made your still-racing heart go tumbling over itself. “So fucking much.”

You kissed him slowly then, taking a breath in through your nose so you could keep your lips sealed to his for a few seconds longer, and smiling into it as you felt him do the same. On any other morning you would have pulled him into the shower with you after that. But you both knew you would have needed to set your alarm much earlier than you did to account for another round under the water while still making your flight - and the “meeting” you had scheduled shortly after landing at LAX. As you rinsed the soap from your body you grinned to yourself, imagining Dieter’s reaction when he finds out that it wasn’t a gallery owner you were meeting with that night to discuss another showing in the future, but Fiona, the same artist who did his painting tattoo.

Because if I have to miss opening night while I’m out there, I’m going to make the best of it.

The two of you spent the remainder of the morning in your sunlit kitchen, picking at a bowl of fruit over coffee until it was time for you to leave for the airport. When it was, he walked you down to the car that was waiting for you outside of your building. He set your suitcase down at the curb as Vince, Dieter’s personal driver whenever he was in New York, reached for it to put it in the trunk. Thanking the man, who responded with a nod and a smile, Dieter turned and placed both of his hands on your hips, using them to pull you closer. “C’mere.”

You placed your palms flat against his chest, bare beneath the bathrobe he’d pulled on over his sleep shorts, and looked up at him. His head was tilted, the angle of it blocking the sun from shining in your eyes but allowing it to swim through the strands of his hair, still bed-rumpled despite having been awake for a few hours. The sight filled your heart and you wondered how it was possible for you to continue falling in love with him. At the same time, you knew you would never stop, and the thought from earlier repeated in your mind.

I can’t wait to marry this man.

You slid one hand up the side of his neck, thumb stroking the skin there. “I’m right here.” Wrinkling your nose, you leaned in to kiss the heart-shaped patch in his beard. “But I gotta go, Dieter.”

His arms wound around your waist and shoulders as he pulled you into his body. “I know you do.” Turning his face, he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’ve got places to be.” He tightened his arms, crushing you closer. “You’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

You laughed, returning the hug. “So are you.” Leaning in again as he chuckled , you lowered your head this time so that your kiss landed near the hollow of his throat, a few inches above the inked butterfly on his chest. “Can’t wait to see the show when I get home.”

“I can’t wait to see you when you get home,” he countered through a grin, stepping back to loosen his hold on you. “But yeah, I’m excited for you to see it, too. And I’m excited for the show to end, so I can get out to L.A. to see the gallery.” Dieter’s palms slid down your sides, and then he reached for both of your hands, bringing them between you. “Hey.” You felt the gentle pressure of his thumbs near your wrists as he squeezed. Blinking up at him, you watched his brown eyes soften. They still held onto some of the jovial laughter that you’d just shared, but the look in them had deepened. It took your breath away. “The collection is incredible. You should be really proud of yourself for it.” Raising your left hand, he kissed the knuckle of your ring finger, just above the stone he’d put there. “I sure as hell am.”

“I…” You circled your wrist from his grasp and laid your hand against his cheek. “I actually am, Dieter.” Scratching your nails through his beard and into the curls that hung around his ears, you grinned at the throaty sound he made. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” This time it was him that leaned in for a kiss, catching you slightly off guard. “Now,” he continued to kiss you as he spoke. “You better go.” His teeth closed gently around your lower lip and then released it, only to catch your lips with his once more. “So you can get back.”

You shook your head, laughing as your nose bumped his. “Yeah, I guess I should.” Letting out a sigh, you looked up at him again, carding your fingers through his sun-drenched hair. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Safe flight. Call me when you land, yeah?” At that he dropped his hands to his sides, the rings on his fingers catching the midday sunlight.

You nodded. “Promise.”

“Alright.” He winked at you. “Now get out of here.”

– – – –

After an uneventful flight - you’d used the time to look over some capstone project proposals from the handful of students you’d agreed to take on for the final summer session - you landed in sunny Los Angeles. As soon as you’d gotten your suitcase from baggage claim, you pulled out your phone to call Dieter, pressing the video button and waiting for him to pick up. He might not though. You turned your wrist to check your watch. Dress rehearsal starts soon, so…

But just as you were getting ready to hang up and shoot him a text instead, Dieter’s face filled your screen and you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out at the sight of him. Two stubby little prosthetic horns had been attached to his forehead, and they peeked out between his curls which had been styled with super hold gel. Set around his head and balanced on the horns, was a crown of colorful blossoms - snapdragons, hyacinth and larkspur. You recalled the conversation when he told you that he’d personally requested those specific flowers be part of his costume, because they symbolized deception, playfulness and haughtiness, all qualities that his jesterlike character embodied and ones that he wanted to make sure were represented. Stickler for the details, aren’t you, Dieter?

It was part of what made him so good at what he did, the way he tried to completely immerse himself in the identity of his characters. You realized, though, that it didn’t end with acting, that Dieter paid the same level of attention to everything he cared about. Oh I love this man so much it's stupid.

Pressing your lips together as you hid another laugh, you finally greeted him. “Oh, wow. Hey there, handsome.” Pointing to the wreath of blossoms, you smiled. “Looks good.”

“Hey yourself.” He flashed a grin that you felt through the screen. “You look good.”

That earned him an eye roll. “Dieter.” From the way his grin broke into a chuckle, you could tell that the screen and the distance did nothing to dilute the feeling for him, either. “I just got off a five and a half hour flight. I look like-”

“Like I want to do things to you.” His tone turned into gravel and you nearly stumbled over your feet. Oh, fuck. “That’s what you look like right now.” He tilted his head and the flower halo shifted. “Things that’ll make you-”

“Jesus, Dieter!” Your eyes went wide as you cut him off, and then you were both laughing again. “You know, they really nailed it with your casting for this play. You as Puck? You’re just as-”

Poking at the tip of one of the protrusions from his forehead, he lifted an eyebrow. “Horny?”

You groaned and gave him another eye roll that turned into a smirk. “Well I was going to say mischievous, but yeah, that works too.”

“Only for you though.”

From anyone else in the world it would have sounded like some cheesy line. It would have sounded smarmy - like something someone would say to deflect your attention from something they didn’t want you to know. But not from Dieter. From him it was sincere - he’d never been anything but sincere with you, right from the start. “Yeah,” you responded, biting down on your lower lip. “Same goes for me with you, Bravo.”

Someone out of view called Dieter’s name, and he turned to let them know that he’d be right there. With a sigh, he turned back to you. “Alright, looks like they’re ready to get started. I have to go.” He said your name then, staring straight into the camera so that it was almost like he was looking in your eyes. “Good luck with your meeting. Can’t wait to hear about it later.”

You thanked him, telling him that you hoped rehearsal went well and that you’d call him later that night before you went to bed. And the whole time you hoped that he couldn’t read the excitement that you were barely concealing over the truth about your “meeting.”

As soon as you finished your call with Dieter, you opened the text thread that you had with Fiona. Scrolling through the messages that you’d sent back and forth over the past few weeks discussing the details of your tattoo, you smiled to yourself. You’d had the idea as soon as Dieter had gotten back to New York after his last trip out to the West Coast, when he’d had Fiona reproduce a sliver of one of the paintings the two of you had worked on together on his inner arm. Yours was going to be a different cut section of the piece to complement Dieter’s, and smaller than his. Fiona was almost as excited as you were to be able to make it happen even though you’d only be out in L.A. for a few days. Typing out a quick message to let her know that you just had to drop your things off at the apartment - the one Dieter had lived in before the two of you started living together, and that he decided to keep so that either of you would have a familiar place to stay when you were traveling for work - before you’d be on your way over to her shop. She sent back a string of thumbs up and excited emojis along with a “see you soon!” and then you were on your way.

– – – –

The tattoo took a few hours, but true to what Dieter had said about the woman’s technique and personality, it didn’t feel that long. There were areas that hurt more than others, but she warned you about them before she started on those spots, and there was no part of it that was that bad. You even felt yourself relaxing at one point, watching in a trance as she filled in the colors to bring the art to life on your arm. When she needed to take a break to stretch, she brought you back an iced tea and the two of you chatted for a while as though you’d known her for much longer than a day.

“You and Dieter are great,” she said, just before getting ready to settle in to finish. Her smile was bright. “I can tell how happy you both make each other and-” She gestured at your arm. “Well this is just some real romantic shit.” That had gotten you to laugh, the woman joining you. “I mean that in the best way possible, by the way. Seriously, I’ve done all the cliche couples tattoos you could possibly imagine. And then about a million more.” She sighed and sat back down on her stool, waiting for you to make yourself comfortable again, too. “But this? This is unique just to you two. And I know we just met today, but that is very Dieter, and it seems really right for you, too. I’m just… I’m happy for you both.”

Your cheeks hurt almost as much as your arm as you grinned at her words, thanking her. “It means a lot to hear that.”

She nodded then, asking if you were ready for the final details. Before you knew it, the design was done and the woman was cleaning and wrapping your arm, giving you instructions on how to take care of it for the next few days. Luckily, you’d thought ahead and packed dresses and tops with loose fitting sleeves for the two night gallery event, wanting both to be comfortable in the warm weather, and to be able to conceal your surprise until you got home. You thanked Fiona again, letting her know that you’d add her and her boyfriend to the guest list for the gallery opening if they wanted to come. She told you enthusiastically that she would be there, and after paying and tipping the woman, you headed back to the apartment.

When you were finally settled in - suitcase unpacked, takeout delivered, and clothes changed - you pulled out your phone again to call Dieter, angling the screen carefully so that your arm wasn’t in view. This time, when his face filled the screen, it had been scrubbed of stage makeup and sans horns. But like always, your heart swelled the moment you saw him. Oh, look at him.

He was sprawled in your bed, laying on his stomach and clutching what you realized was your pillow. His hair was wild, the way it always was when he washed it and let it air dry without running anything but his fingers through it. He looked tired, but comfortable, and happy, and when you glanced up at your own image in the corner, you saw that you looked exactly the same. Smiling at him, you spoke first. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hi.” He adjusted his position so that less of his face was hidden by the pillow, propping himself up on one elbow, his whole face lighting up with his yawning grin. “You look cozy.”

Leaning back into the cushion of the overstuffed chair you sat in, you nodded. “I am. Be cozier with you here though.” You carefully bent your freshly tattooed arm and laid it in your lap, making sure that the camera stayed on your face. “How was rehearsal? All set for tomorrow?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “A bunch of things went kind of …sideways?” You snorted. “But that’s the point. Means it should be smooth sailing.” He arched one brow. “For the first night, at least.”

You hummed. “Hopefully the magic lasts until the third night so I can see you all on top of your game.” You cocked your head to one side. “Although, it might be fun to see it a little sideways, too.”

That got a chuckle out of him, the sound deep and warm. “Yeah, well, if we all do our jobs right you’d never even know it was tilted.” That’s true. “How about you? How was the meeting? You book another show?”

Letting out a short, hesitant laugh, you swallowed and tried not to let your eyes give you away. “Uh, well it was a good meeting. Too soon to know anything definite, but-” Your tongue slipped out to lick your lips and you fought against peeking at your tattoo. “But I’m feeling good about it.”

“Good.” He switched the phone to his other hand and he rolled to his back, your pillow rolling with him. “And I’ll be there for that one.”

“Dieter, I just said nothing is set in stone, so-”

“Yeah but when it is,” he stretched his shoulders, letting out a quiet groan as he did. “I’ll be there.”

You felt momentarily guilty over keeping the truth about where you’d been earlier from him. He’s so damn supportive and sweet. But then you remembered that when Dieter had gotten his surprise tattoo, he’d kept it hidden from you for a full month. And this is only two more nights. You sighed. “Yeah, Dieter. You will be.”

The topic shifted back to the play then, Dieter letting you know that Anika had reached out to him because she was in the city and would be at the show. “We might get something to eat afterwards, too.” He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you before the fucking internet blew up about it.”

You groaned. “Dieter, I don’t care what people say, okay? I know how you feel about me and how I feel about you, and that’s all I care about, so-”

“I fucking love you so damn much.” He shook his head, teeth showing through his smile. “And I know you know it. Just didn’t want you to get blind sided with it at the gallery thing. Tacky headlines and shit..”

“Thanks for telling me, Dieter.” You yawned then, the day catching up with you. “Tell Anika I said hi, and have a good time.”

“I will. And we will.” His mouth opened wide then, and he pointed at the screen in accusation. “That was your fault. I yawned because you did.”

“No,” you laughed. “You yawned because you’re tired. And so am I. And we both have big days tomorrow, so we should both get some sleep.”

“Wish we were getting it in the same bed.” You and me both.

“Dieter.” You narrowed your eyes at him and pursed your lips. “You know damn well if we were in the same bed we wouldn’t be doing much sleeping.” That earned you another laugh, this one weightier, and you knew it wouldn’t take him long to fall asleep once you hung up. I won’t be far behind him. “But yeah, I wish we were, too.”

“You’re right though, I’m beat. I was kind of dozing off before you called, so-”

“So let’s say goodnight, hmm?” You stood from the chair you occupied and started to make your way to the bedroom as he nodded. “I’ll talk to you before the show but crack an egg.” He rolled his eyes and snorted at your insistence to never wish him boldly harm by saying “break a leg”. Because we don’t need to invite injury. “I love you, Dieter.”

“Love you too. Sweet dreams.”

You dreamed of him that night, though it wasn’t exactly sweet. You dreamed of him and of you. Of him doing things to you like he’d teased about when you called him from the airport. And you woke up feeling great.

– – – –

The next two days flew by, and you couldn’t have been happier about that.

Not that you weren’t excited about what you were doing. You were thrilled. The gallery opening had gone off without a hitch. More than that, several of the pieces in the collection had sold between the two nights, leaving only a handful of others to sell throughout the duration of the showing. You’d been in touch with Dieter, too. Mostly via text, as both of you were working and not in the same time zone. But you’d talked on the phone and with video chat once or twice as well, Dieter telling you that both nights had gone well. By the time you were at LAX heading home, you were just itching to see it and him for yourself.

And to show him this. You glanced down at your arm, impressed at how the swelling was already down and starting to heal. I can’t wait to see his face.

The last conversation you’d had with him, his expression was less than thrilled over the round of tabloid headlines he all but predicted when he told you about his plans to see Anika.

While the fiancée is away, Bravo plays //CLICK FOR MORE//

Cold Feet in the Summer Heat for Dieter Bravo? Actor looking cozy with ex-girlfriend Anika Stoyanova following Midsummer performance

Xander Vance, Bravo’s Orion co-star and love interest front, row at the Delacorte - fuels speculation that the pair were more than on screen lovers

Artist fiancée nowhere to be found for first two nights of shows - Does this spell trouble in paradise for Dieter Bravo?

You rolled your eyes as you recalled the various alerts on your phone. Such bullshit. Sure, it sucked seeing those headlines and reading the venomous lies and stories attached to them. If you thought about it for too long, yeah, it hurt to know that there were people out there who took shots at your relationship - at Dieter and who he was, who you knew him to be, not to mention the terrible things you were sometimes called. People actually get paid to write that crap. Unbelievable. It bothered you, yes. But a lot had changed since the first horrible round of headlines had steamrolled through yours and Dieter’s lives. You’d learned how to handle the scrutiny and the speculation, how to ignore the unfounded rumors and how to take every comment from fans in stride. More importantly that anything though your relationship had grown strong and solid, and you were no longer worried that it would end over some stupid headlines. Because he made sure I knew that this is what matters to him.

It was the same for you.

Your flight landed in New York with just enough time for you to drop your things and home and head immediately back out the door to head to Central Park, finding your seat right before the actors took the stage. From the moment it began, you were completely wrapped up in the magic of Midsummer - in the warm night air and the swaying trees and the brilliant performances. When it was over, you were grinning ear to ear, on your feet applauding with a thousand others. Dieter was right. If anything went sideways, I missed it.

You made sure not to miss him for another second though, following his instructions to head backstage when it was over. “Security knows you’re coming. Some of the others are having family back after too so it’s fine.” Hearing him call you his family was something you’d never get tired of.

And neither was the way he kissed you when you’d been apart for more than a day. Even in public he managed to keep it looking decent as his tongue delved into your mouth and stroked slowly over yours, as though reminding you what it could do. You had to fight to stay standing and to keep from moaning right there in the dressing room. Not fair. He’s a damn actor and I’m only so strong. “Hey, you.” He said, lips still sealed to yours, one hand resting on your cheek and the other settling against your neck. “Missed you.”

It wasn’t until you opened your eyes and pulled back that you noticed he was still wearing the horns and flowers, and a short laugh burst through your attempts at catching your breath. I love him so much it’s stupid. You had lost count of how many times you’d had that thought. But as you reached up to pluck the wreath from his head, you had another. No one I’d rather be stupid for. “Hey yourself. Missed you, too.” Raising on your toes, you kissed his cheek, not caring that you were getting his sweaty makeup on your lips. “You were great, Dieter.”

“Yeah?” He used the thumb of the hand on your face to swipe the smudge from your lips as you nodded. “Thanks. It was a fun show tonight.” He sighed and smiled. “Glad you’re home.”

You hummed. “Me too. I’ve had something to tell you, well show you, really, for three days now and-”

“Show me, huh?” He arched an eyebrow and stepped back to look at you more clearly. “Show me wh- oh, shit.” Yeah. His eyes had dropped to the inside of your arm, and you turned it so he had a better view. “You…” He licked his lips and turned his own arm to line it up next to yours. “You got the other… the piece I cut out on mine.” He brought his eyes back up to yours then, big and soft and spilling over with affection. “I fucking love it. I fucking love it and I fucking love you.” He swallowed and leaned in to catch your lips with his again. There was a slight tinge of salt but you weren’t sure if the tears were his or yours and it didn’t matter.

“I fucking love you, too, Dieter.” So damn much.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @tentacruels @alraedesigns @practicalghost @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @haylzcyon

#dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #bad idea dieter #pedrostories #the bubble dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #june drabbles 2022 but make it 2023 #better late than never #midsummer #flower crowns #what fools #i love these fools

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allieebobo · 2 years

Note

what would the ros do if mc fell asleep on their shoulder. i feel like maybe rayyan would just shove mc off but i hope im wrong hshsjkl

HAHAH oh my gosh, I wouldnt put it past Rayyan to do something like that, anon :P Let's do: before they've admitted feelings for MC, because that's probably when Rayyan would be most lilely to do something like that :)

Tobin

They'd peer down with a small, affectionate smile. If there's someone else present, they'd murmur a lighthearted joke or wry comment, but softly enough that MC isnt disturbed by the noise.

Then they'd adjust themselves very gently, to make MC feel a little more comfortable.

They'd proceed to continue doing exactly what they were doing -very adeptly - without the use of half of their upper body.

Sam

Sam would grin and pull out their phone, quietly snapping a picture of MC so they can doodle an outlandish image on the photo with the paintbrush-edit tool.

They have a whole phone gallery folder of the pics they've exchanged this way - sharks devouring each other's faces, dinosaurs popping out of open drooling mouths and so on. The drawings are sometimes hideously ugly when MC and Sam have to doodle with their non-dominant hand.

When MC finally wakes up, they'll immediately groan. "Goddamnit, not again," they'll sock Sam on the shoulder. "Why didnt you wake me!"

Rayyan

"Oh no," They'd grunt, "no you dont," and scowl down at MC. Only to realise how peaceful they look, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling slowly.

"Fuck me," they'd say, slightly more quietly this time, and sigh, resigned. "Someone goes out partying late last night, and I lose all functionality on my right side. Great."

But for all their grumbling, Rayyan pretty much stays put, allowing MC to continue sleeping until they finally stir. Then they'll hear all about what a nuisance they've been. "You owe me one," They say, disgruntledly.

Of the 4 ROs, theyd probably be the most likely to shake their heads and say, "ah, non, you are fooling nobody; you're not yet asleep and you're not gonna do it on me."

If MC gets up and frowns at them, they'll smirk and say, "eh, knew it," and probably get smacked in the arm.

If MC doesn't get up, they'll let out a quiet sigh, but surprise themselves by staring down affectionately anyway. "You're cute, at least," They'll whisper.

#ct:os #college tennis: origin story #rayyan #sam #tobin #g

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han-shinsuke · 2 years

Text

t a k a s h i m i t s u y a

“don’t pull away, Y/N,” he whispers softly as he goes after your lips.

It happened a very long time ago and the pain he caused you was no longer there. You’ve healed yourself successfully. Though, his younger sister Luna hasn’t, and been reminding her brother of the ‘crime’ he had committed whenever she’s gotten herself drunk. Takashi carries his sister to the room next to yours, scolding Luna as their both struggles to enter the doorway. When you slide the main door open, he calls your name, apprehensive of your action. To calm his noticeable nervousness, you give him a reassuring smile. You’ll just take a walk on the beachfront. You’ll be there when he decides to go after you. Besides, you’re not familiar of the place. Your legs are crossed together when you hear movements behind you.

“She’ll forgive you soon,” Takashi situates beside you, he’s so close that you can feel the warmth emitting from him. “Luna will forget just like how I’ve had done it.”

“It still hurts her, Y/N. Luna still has it in her phone.” his voice cracks. Takashi puts a hand over your head and tilts your face to his direction, “my sister is telling the truth, breaking someone’s heart is a crime.”

Truly over of the incidents in the past, the tears that damps your face are not because of the pain. As a grown up, those memories are now just memories for you but for Takashi, it still haunts him.

“You’ll make it again, Mitsuya Takashi.” your faith to this man never wavers. He had worked hard to achieve his dreams. Forgiving himself may not be that hard to do.

You were seventeen when you had your first heartbreak. It was kinda humiliating and frightening. It was you and your greediness to get noticed by him that had put you in shame. You used to be so fat, uneven skin tone and acne face. Takashi Mitsuya and his friends made fun of you, making you wear two-piece swimsuit and hanging a message board around your neck that says; Takashi Mitsuya will never ever date me. Worst, recording your pitiful situation.

After the high school graduation rites, you approached him. Mitsuya had graduated with the highest honor and delivered the valedictory speech.

“You’ll make it,” you said to him with a smile. Takashi needed it, a push to continue pursuing the career he always wanted.

You went to the other direction, miles away from his life. For the past decade, only in the magazine covers, interviews and fashion shows you could see his face and get updates about his colorful life.

Takashi Mitsuya, a fashion icon.

“So, Taka,” you giggle while patting your face dry. Your heart aches not because of your memories together but for the reason that he’s having a hard time dealing with himself. “Will you design a wedding dress for me?”

About a year ago, you had reconnected with your high school classmates at a get together party. Most of them are married and had grown matured like they supposed to. Some apologized for the way they had treated you and there were few that could not even look at you.

“But you don’t have a groom, Y/N. You’re not even dating anyone.”

Grinning, you show him a photo in your phone gallery. A screen capture of an email sent to you. Your aunt will introduce you to someone.

“It’s my dream to own a wedding dress, Takashi. Married or not. We’re now friends, right? You have to help me achieve a single dream.”

He takes the gadget from you and zooms in the photo to look into it. Then after a moment of thorough inspection, he tosses it to the sand and grabs you onto his lap, gripping your sides as he speaks.

“Is your aunt residing in Oregon and named Anari Torralba?” you never mention anything about your aunt to Takashi.

“Yeah, you know my aunt?” his grip loosens, moving both hands to your back, pushing you to him.

So close. So damn close! You scream in your head.

“Her username in the dating app is catfishdog, right?” Takashi continues stealing space between your face and his. He’s now eyeing your lips dangerously, answer his question and you’ll meet his mouth tonight.

“Yes, how—” he receives the confirmation he wants, it’s time to feel your lips on his.

Takashi Mitsuya smashes his lips greedily on yours, locking his hands behind your back so you won’t be moving inappropriately to the situation he’s creating with you. He needs you close to him, your warmth, your lips against his.

“Don’t pull away, Y/N,” he whispers softly as he goes after your lips, touching them with his own. Takashi’s doing it right, pecking on your upper and bottom lip gently, not wanting to scare you. He needs your willingness to be kissed properly.

Takashi presses a long kiss to the right corner of your lips. It’s just a light touch but it gives your heart a reason to beat erratically. A pattern you once felt... because of the same person.

“Do you mind giving me a real kiss, Takashi?” your gaze is hazy as you ask for it. He nods his head and smiles. Takashi thumbs your cheeks. He can tell you are on the verge of crying, must be from the overwhelming feeling of being kissed by him. You lean in to his face with your lips open, he does the same. Takashi initiates the movements, touching the back of your head to support its steadiness. As for his other hand, you feel it on your hips gripping as he starts rolling his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss he’s sharing with you no longer possesses restrictions. He’s getting bold leading your mouth to work with his in cooperation. Takashi has big hands, an advantage to freely squeeze your nape and tilt your head to any direction. He does it several times, tilting your head for the kiss to get deep and accessible to him. Drowned... that’s how you’re feeling while inside his arms.

“Ouch! Takashi—” you whine when he nips your bottom lip but still let him do his job. The kiss is about to end, you can feel it. You need air and so is Takashi.

“Fuck.” He snaps his lips away from yours, catching his breath. The absence of his warmth on your mouth feels lonely so you go after Takashi’s moist lips and kiss him again. He answers by entering your mouth. His tongue dips inside quickly, pausing the kiss. He laughs at your neediness. He finds it admirable.

“You’ll have your dream wedding dress, Y/N. I am the man you’re going to meet in Oregon. I’m the man your aunt Anari is talking about.”

#tr imagines #tr takashi mitsuya #tokyo revengers #tokyo manji gang #tokyo rev fluff #takashi mitsuya #takashi mitsuya x reader #takashi mitsuya x y/n #takashi mitsuya imagine #takashi mitsuya fluff #anime fic #anime fluff

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gas-station-chai · 11 months

Text

Stalker!Tony AU rambles from my notes app

Jantonio (Jack/Tony) based delusions from my plagued mind :3 Enjoy at your own risk.

stalker Tony au where he actually works part time at the gas station (like 4-6 hrs a day kinda shifts) but stays longer just to hang out/talk to the cute overnight manager who he usually takes over his shift. As he works there longer and longer, Tony realizes something: staying in that building doesn’t make you crazy, it brings out whatever crazy that was already in you. It takes some fucked up, repressed shit buried deep in your subconscious and brings that motherfucker into the light (example: Calvin Ambrose)

In Tony’s case? His little crush on jack is suddenly a full-on obsession. It’s a gradual spiral, but he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. In the beginning he catches himself trailing after Jack around the store, and he’s a little confused and embarrassed when he’s asked about it, telling Jack it’s the lack of sleep that’s making him weird, which Jack laughs at with an “I can relate to that.” He subconsciously begins going after anything Jack-related after that; a pen he chewed on here, a paper coffee cup he’d tossed after his shift there, even a few articles of clothing from his emergency kit in the closet (Jack would probably blame the missing shirts on Jerry, anyways). He doesn’t even notice he’s taking these things until he goes home and realizes his bag is a little heavier than when he first got to work.

At this point he starts to realize he’s losing it. He’s trying to reason with himself with the reminder of, 'how fuckin creepy this is with your face shoved into your coworker’s shirt while you're grinning like a psychopath,' but there’s a giddy, sick sort of glee he’s getting from it that overpowers his logical side, so he starts to up the ante.

It’s super easy to get pictures of Jack since his head is either buried deep in a book or in the clouds. Tony couldn’t be more thankful for his uncaring (if not a bit airheaded) nature. He thinks about getting a Polaroid camera so he doesn’t have to print photos off a flash drive somewhere public, and he knows if Jack heard the shutter and click of cameras, he wouldn’t question it. Hell, he’d probably just stuff in some earplugs to ignore the sound. But he holds off, reasoning that it’d be playing too risky. In the end, he settles for home-printed pictures on printer paper, which he obsessively pins to his room walls.

Tony never admitted to himself what he was doing was considered stalking until he actually started stalking him. It wasn’t even on purpose… at first, anyways. He’d been driving around town when he spotted Jack getting dropped off at the local bookstore, and that’s where it started. Tony’s phone camera was trained on his friend before he even registered his actions.

He told himself that this was a one time thing, that he’d be content with seeing him at work, but with every day and every “just one more time,” he knew he was fighting a losing battle with himself. (Jack doesn’t have many outfit variations so his photo gallery folder of him at New Pages looks like they’re all from the same day. Tony cherishes them all the same)

Since jack doesn’t go many places when he’s not working, it was only a matter of time until Tony eventually followed him home and found out where he lived. He thinks it’ll be difficult to get in when he’s not home cos he assumes he’s living with family, but after a long stakeout with no other sign of life in the house he concludes that Jacks living all alone.

He’s actually really proud of Jack for being so careful and prepared for a break-in with his three-lock system, but simultaneously disappointed at how easy it was to get in through the back door. It’s here that he starts taking more things to fuel his infatuation: from socks, loose hairs and even a few pieces of silverware that he’d assumed jack had used that day. He knew how fucked up and overboard this was starting to become, but he was long past the point of trying to reason with himself by now.

He’s torn between liking Jerry for his loose-lipped tendencies and hating him for his friendliness. On one hand, Jerry sucks at the whole privacy thing, which benefits him. Tony usually sugarcoats his questions about jack, disguising them as offhand comments about their manager, but sometimes he thinks he doesn’t even have to with the way the blond will easily blabber on about the tired man. On the other hand, there’s a jealous rage in the pit of his stomach every time he watches the ex-cultist bound towards Jack and start goofing around as if they were best friends.

Tony being jealous of how close Jerry’s getting to Jack, but not being able to get closer to him himself bc Jack throws him off whenever they talk (eg: The bar invite was supposed to be a date but Jack made it weird and Tony got infected by the awkward and didn’t know what else to say)

(I could link it back to cannon by making his obsession somehow lead to him getting in contact with Roger :eyes:)

#chai writes stuff #what a pinning lunatic (Tony)#oblivious till it’s too late (jack)#world’s most unhelpful wingman (Jerry)#stalker!jantonio au #i am so delulu please help me #stalking cw #tftgs au

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teddybasmanov · 2 years

Text

and the soul basks in the nirvana of resurrection

Chapter 1|Chapter 2: my laziness is flowing on the verge of enlightenment

Pairing: Freelancer/Gavin/Huxley/Damien/Lasko, background Elliott/Sunshine, background Avior/Starlight.

TW: coma, memory loss, memory alteration, mild angst/emotional hurt.

Notes: Words in italics are supposed to be not in English, words in singular quotation marks ‘like this’ are reader character’s (that’s the freelancer) thoughts. The freelancer is implied to be not from the US. Lyrics in the text and the titles are from this song. Everything is agonizingly good and tooth-rottingly sweet AU.

Word count: a bit over 2300.

who am I

and why do flounder

the thoughts

Half an hour before Cam’s arrival is spent in pretty relaxed banter and the freelancer finding out that some things never change. One of those things is apparently their phone and their music library on it. They scroll through their photo gallery, while their partners huddle around the bed, trying to look over their shoulder.

“So, this is the E&E closing, I’m assuming,” they look at the picture of Huxley and Damien wearing their medals, Huxley’s arm is wrapped around Damien’s shoulders and he’s trying his best to look displeased by it.

“Aha,” Lasko confirms, “if you want anything else you should scroll faster – there’re a lot of these,” he chuckles lightly.

The freelancer follows his advice and soon comes to something they recognize again, “And this is Friendsgiving!” they raise their gaze from the screen to the guys.

“It is,” Gavin smiles at them fondly, “It was wonderful, and your idea by the way.”

“As usual,” Damien joins in.

“Hey, dude!” Huxley goes to defend the freelancer.

“What? I was serious!” the fire elemental falls victim to his own usual sarcasm.

“Sure,” the freelancer wants to say something else but then someone knocks on the door. Cam’s habits are much more civilised than Gavin’s – he not only doesn’t’ rift in the middle of the room, he even politely asks if can come in.

Camelopardalis is distinctly inhuman and it’s not clear what’s playing a bigger role in it – his gargantuan height, his horns or the aquamarine undertones of his skin and hair. He sends everyone a slightly distant smile.

“Punctual as ever,” Gavin grins in return.

“Of course, my friend,” Cam nods, “Good day, to all of you, and you’re the freelancer, I presume,” he looks straight at them.

“I think I am,” they answer and it sounds like everything between a joke and a genuine concern.

“Would you prefer some privacy, while we try to figure out your memory issue?”

“I…” the freelancer hesitates, “Yeah, probably, I wouldn’t want to make anyone worry,” they smile half-apologetically at their partners.

The elementals look at Gavin as if asking him if it’s okay to leave, he gets up and they follow him.

“Call if you need anything,” and with that Camelopardalis and the freelancer are left alone.

“Mind if I sit?”

They make an inviting gesture and the daemon sits at the foot of their bed.

“Can you explain what and how you remember or rather not remember in a little more detail?” his voice stays calm and soothing.

The freelancer repeats the story they’ve already told their partners – about everything being fiction.

“That’s an interesting case, I’ve never heard of anything like this, maybe I’ll be able to tell more if I see for myself. Only if you let me, of course,” Cam looks a little confused.

“Sure,” ‘Isn’t it what Gavin called you for?’ “Can I ask you just one question before that?”

“Ask away, I’ll answer what I can,” the daemon keeps his eyes on them.

“How’s Regulus?” the freelancer takes a shot in the dark and hits the target.

“How do you know him from?” it’s the first time Cam’s face significantly changes to express surprise. They don’t say anything, just raising an eyebrow to show that the answer is obvious.

“Oh, yeah,” Camelopardalis gets the memo, “He’s doing much better, his obsessive tendencies are almost gone, he’s still very protective of his charge though. They’re doing better too with his help – he’s so happy about it.”

“So, they’re together? He’s not contained in the department?” Now it’s the freelancer’s turn to be surprised.

“Why would he be at the department?” Cam’s dark eyes widen, “I’m friends with his steward – they’re great with empathy daemons with attachment issues, Regulus is going to be a very good daemon in time,” he smiles fondly again and the freelancer mirrors his expression.

“When you see him or his steward, please tell them that he helped me so much through some hard times. At least my memories are telling me that.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to know that,” Cam’s smile widens a bit.

“Okay,” the freelancer takes a deep breath, “Let’s see what’s wrong with my memory.”

“It won’t hurt, I promise,” the daemon puts his big hand with long elegant fingers right in front of their face and they feel something gentle but definitely foreign prodding their mind, pictures start flashing in their vision and they suddenly start feeling sleepy.

“It’s okay, relax, you’ll wake up when it’s over,” Camelopardalis says in his lulling voice.

When they open their eyes again, he’s looking at them with a strange expression.

“I take it you didn’t like what you saw?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Cam stumbles.

“Were the parts about you true?” the freelancer makes a guess.

“Yeah,” he lowers his eyes, as if ashamed of his own discomfort.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to make you watch all of that again, even if from a different perspective,” they reach out to take his hand, slowly enough to give him time to move away. He doesn’t.

“It’s okay,” he smiles again even if it’s weak this time, “The good parts are also true, after all.” They sit in silence for a little while.

“So, about your memories,” Cam clears his throat, “I cannot return memories that aren’t there, I’m sorry. If you’d want to forget any of that, I’m at your service.”

“Thanks, I’d rather keep it, if not because it’s all I have, than to appreciate how good everything is in reality.” ‘Or at least seems to be for now.’

“Well, Gavin has my number, in case you change your mind,” the daemon shrugs, still looking a little guilty.

“I think I can call them back in,” the freelancer half-asks and Cam nods.

When their partners come in, Damien is the first to ask:

“Did it work?” to which the freelancer scrunches their nose and shakes their head.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to live with it,” they turn to the daemon again, “Thank you, Cam, anyway, it was nice seeing you.”

Gavin offers to walk him out and they leave for a few minutes. While they are out the elementals try to comfort the freelancer and the freelancer tries to persuade them, they don’t need comforting. When Gavin comes back to such a familiar picture, he suggests that everyone needs to eat and is met with a four-voice protest.

When the elementals are forced to leave to finally have their late lunch/early supper, Gavin stays with the freelancer and feeds them as well ‘Literally feeds, get your head out of the gutter’.

“I want to see if your tastes are still as I remember.”

“Well, I like you very much, so they can’t be that different,” they tease, as he conjures a tray of food on top of their hospital blanket. The food is good, as well as the feeling of Gavin’s palm resting on their knee. Trying to inquire if he himself is hungry, leaves them with a vague mention of Huxely having a free morning today, from which they deduct that no, Gavin is not indeed hungry.

When the rest of the polycule comes back the freelancer hesitantly offers:

“Since Elliott won't be here for a few more hours, maybe we’ll do some more fact checking? I can talk separately with each of you, so as not to… disclose anything that was private before.”

Their partners agree and decide to go in the order of meeting.

…

“And then you told me your birth name.”

“You told me yours a few days after.”

…

“Did I cry when we discussed our families?”

“We both did.”

…

“You know I actually still like mini-golf.”

“I hope this time you can really play it.”

…

“And then we held hands on the trail.”

“Like this?”

“Like this.”

…

When they all gather in the freelancer’s room again they’re a little shaken by all the reminiscing, but mostly in a good way.

“While we still have a bit of time, can I take a wild guess?” the freelancer starts talking.

“Sure,” Gavin is settling on the side of their bed again.

“Gavin, do you know Avior?”

“Do you not?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Well, not in that quality,” they say with an uncertain intonation, “When did you see him the last time?”

“About a week before your accident. And you’ve seen him too, by the way, we had a double date,” Gavin says, uncertain of why Avior came up all of a sudden.

“Have you heard from him since?” the freelancer continues their inquisition.

“Well, we texted a few times. Why?” the incubus is getting more and more confused alongside the elementals, who are observing the scene.

“Can you call him now, please? I just need to hear him.”

“Sure. Avi? Am I interrupting something? So, you have a minute? Great. Yeah, so the freelancer has awoken and their memories aren’t that great at the moment and they want to talk to you. They’re worried, I’ll just let them explain themselves,” he passes the phone to the freelancer.

“Avior? Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon freelancer, good to hear from you again.”

“Can I ask you something? Full disclosure: it’s going to sound weird and like something I shouldn’t be aware of.”

“I’m already intrigued, go on.”

“Are you feeding off a dreamwalker, who’s obsessed with a cult?”

“No… Not at the moment at least, there was one a few years ago, but I left him when I got bored with his constant hatred.”

“Can you tell me a bit more about him? Anything weird? Any details that you still think about?”

“Actually yes. Firstly, I have visited him fairly recently and was surprised to find out that his academy friend has pulled him out of the cult. Secondly, I met my Starlight right after leaving that guy. I literally bumped into them.”

“Thank you, you’ve put my mind to a rest. Tell your partner, I said hi. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” they give the phone back to Gavin, “He’s not stuck in hell.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chuckles, “the closest he probably was to it, was that double date I mentioned.” They raise an eyebrow, “Because you and his partner have persuaded us to go to a Dante inferno themed escape room. He was furious the whole time.”

The freelancer lets out a nervous laugh, ‘Well, how interestingly my brains work, apparently.’

The elementals, who kept watching the scene with growing bewilderment, decide to interfere.

“Hey,” Damien shuffles a little closer to the freelancer, “You don’t have to tell us anything but we’re glad, that things are better than you remember them being.”

“Believe me, I am also very glad,” they let out a more relaxed smile.

About five minutes after the agreed upon time, they hear another knock on the door and a round-faced man in a headband peaks through,

“Sorry, I’m a little late, they were refusing to let me in,” he grins, not seeming too displeased with it.

“It’s okay, come in,” the earth elemental waves to the incomer.

“Would you like us to leave again?” Gavin addresses the freelancer.

“I don’t think we’re going to find out anything we didn’t already with Cam, so you can stay if you want,” they shrug with one shoulder, “Good evening, Elliott,” they turn to the man who is settling down on a chair beside the bed.

“Evening, congratulations on waking up!” he says cheerfully.

“Thank you. At this point I’m honestly not sure what you can do, since the memory modifier was here already and couldn’t fix anything,” the freelancer spread their hands helplessly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his demeanour falters, “I can tell what I saw in your dream if you want, or just answer some questions.”

“That would be nice. Actually,” they squint almost mischievously, “Did you accidentally call me sunshine while calling for me?”

“Yeah, I might have, sorry,” Elliott rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, it was sweet,” the freelancer reassures them.

“So, did you actually hear it after all?” his curiosity takes over.

“You were saying something about the screen in front of me being not real, right?”

“Yes, I did, actually,” he sounds surprised.

“Then I heard it, several times in fact. It affected me quite a lot,” they admit, biting the inside of their check. “May I ask you something not about my dream?”

“Sure,” Elliott draws the vowel, a little confused.

“Why are you in the city?” the freelancer asks in a suddenly strict voice.

“On a vacation with my partner,” he answers carefully.

“And that’s all?”

“And that’s all,” the dreamwalker is surprised by a sudden interrogation.

“Okay,” they pause, seemingly satisfied with the answer, “Say hi to Brachium, then.” They expect a reaction if not an overreaction, but Elliott just gives them a long look and, after they hold his gaze, says:

“Sure,” he rises from his chair, “I think I’ll go, you’re right, I can’t do much that a memory specialist couldn’t. Good luck in your recovery and good night,” he sends them a wave and another smile, which they return.

“Who’s Brachium?” Damien asks, when the dreamwalker leaves.

“He knows,” the freelancer answers evasively, while Gavin gives them an odd look. He might know more than they think he does.

Later in the evening, the doctor says that if everything is okay in the morning, the boys are free to take the freelancer home.

“Do we all live together?” they ask in happy surprise.

“Yeah, big house, personal rooms, a big one for… common activities,” Gavin answers in a smirk and a quirked up eyebrow.

“What? Like in 2012 Avengers fanfiction?” the freelancer lets out a half-chuckle half-scoff.

“You’ve already joked like this!” Lasko exclaims.

“At least twice, in fact,” Damien notices dryly.

“Well, I don’t remember it, so it doesn’t count!” they laugh, baring both rows of teeth and happily squinting.

Gavin stays with them for the night.

#redacted asmr #fanfic #coma fanfic #finally finished #I was dying to make this 2012 Avengers fanfiction joke

15 notes · View notes

v-0x · 1 year

Text

youre already mine

how did you end up in this situation? pinned against the wall with your arms above your head watching me scroll through the photo gallery on my phone and seeing naked picture after naked picture of yourself while you were changing, showering, and sleeping. you stare at me with murder in your eyes

"i'll kill you in your sleep if you don't delete those"

i look down at you giving away a slight grin and can't help but laugh, you're so cute when you hate me

"i'll delete them, no problem, all you have to do is give me your body for a week. do everything i tell you and the pictures will be gone for good"

with the same ferocity in your eyes i feel your body tense up and reluctantly give in

"you fucker, i'll make sure you regret this"

"oh i'm sure you will, now get down on your knees slut"

i grab the back of your head and force you down on your knees pushing your head up against my thighs, you can feel my hard cock through my pants already. i pull my pants down and let my cock spring out slapping you in the face, watching you squirm in embarrassment as you look up at my member that's as big as your head. holding your head by your hair i rub it against your cheeks and lips

"see? it's pretty hard already even when i'm dealing with an insubordinate brat."

"fuck you" you manage to get out while my cock is pushing against your lips

"don't worry your pretty little head, i’ll turn you into my pet"

i pull my cock away from your mouth and order you to wrap your tits around it but you're distracted wondering why you felt a twinge of disappointment when my cock left your lips. but i'm done waiting, you don't see my hand coming as i slap you, hard. the stinging sensation left on your cheek, a reminder as to what will happen if you disobey me. you quickly get down and slide my cock between your tits drooling over yourself, while i hold your mouth open with my thumb, to use as lube while you avoid any eye contact with me in pure embarrassment, how did this happen to you? you don't deserve to be treated this way, why are you letting this happen?.... why are you so wet?

as if sensing your emotions i pull your chin up and look into your eyes

"it must be really humiliating for you to be defeated by me so fast, it's only one week so why don't you swallow that silly little pride of yours, be a good cock whore, and suck my cock while i fuck your tits"

before you can even get a single word out my hands are on the back of your head, pushing your head down onto the tip of my cock sticking out from between your breasts. feeling immense hatred and pure futility you begin working my cock up and down with your tits while sucking on the head and massaging it with your tongue

"i knew it was only a matter of time before i'd have you kneeling before me like this. damn this is like a dream your mouth is so wet and warm"

you look up at me with my cock in your mouth, your eyes begging me to shut the fuck up and get this over with, and again i’m already in your head knowing your every thought;

"oh no i'm going to savor this feeling, i'll make you remember the taste of my dick well, since i'm going to be your master from now on"

you feel my hands move to the back of your head again

"i heard bratty throats feel the best"

pushing your head all the way down until my cock is deep down your throat, you feel it throbbing and pulsing each time it reaches into your throat. i push you down one last time pushing every inch of me as far down your throat as it goes feeling my cock throb and force a giant messy load into you. you feel with every pulse more and more cum being pumped down your throat. finally i let go and you fall backwards spitting out my cum on your hands and knees, watching tears drip from your face onto the floor.

"ahh you just had to spit out all my cum i gave you, pathetic, you don't even have the guts to swallow. now i'll have to punish you"

while you're still catching your breath and spitting out the last of my cum, i walk behind you and pull aside your panties to see your pussy is soaking wet for me. i grin but hold in from teasing you, right now you need to be fucked before your brain can recover, finally feeling my cock inside your pussy, which i know is what you're body wanted this whole time, will push you over the edge and will make your body mine even if you don't know it yet.

you feel my cock pushing against your pussy

"hey wai-- AAAAH"

you can't even finish the thought after feeling every inch of my cock slam into your pussy with no regard for your comfort

"fucker.... what are you doing?"

"this is the punishment for not drinking my cum, i’ll fuck you until you submit for me and cum"

"that'll never happen, i won't let you get awa--AHHH"

i interrupt you again grabbing both of your arms and using them to pull your ass back while i thrust my cock deep inside you. our bodies slapping together with every thrust you feel like your whole body is taking a pounding while i fuck you

"your pussy is twitching like crazy, haven't been fucked this good in a long time? doesn't it feel great being rammed so deep and so fast?"

you look back at me "ha why are you so proud?! this is nothing"

i lean forward and grab your tits, pinching, twisting, and pulling your nipples while my cock keeps fucking you

"you sure you don't feel a thing from this weak dick?"

you’re moaning with every thrust now and i feel your pussy tighten around my cock every time i play with your nipples. i can feel your pussy juices dripping down our legs

"didn't you say you didn't feel anything from my cock? then what's all these juices overflowing from your pussy about?"

"sh..shut up..! i don't feel a thing...!!"

i lean forward and whisper into your ear

"really...? trembling all over just from my dick? What a weakling.. hahaha"

you try to stop it but you're just too turned on and my cock feels too good, with that last phrase whispered in your ear, now bouncing around your mind you scream and moan as your whole body shakes while you cum around my cock. your body goes limp the only thing holding you up is me holding onto your arms still.

"what a flashy way to cum. i'm going to enjoy using you and making you my pet this next week"

"i'm.. definitely.. going to.. kill... you" you manage to get out between gasping breaths

"yeah yeah you can try, you're so cute when you hate me" i throw you a towel

"clean yourself up and be ready, i'm going to use you again in 3 hours"

i walk out of the room and leave you laying face down in a puddle of your juices and my cum, ass still up in the air. how did you end up like this? how did you let something so disgusting and awful happen to you? how are you going to stop me?.... why are you so excited for next time...?

to be continued

0 notes

tsumusfattytuna · 2 years

Text

kitty.

Haitani Rindou headcannons:

Rindou knew of your soft spot for cats and how bright your eyes shine when you see them.

he isn't that attached nor detested the feline creature, but still find himself watching you quietly as you giggled and played with them.

but without you, it's totally different.

when he goes outside, whether for gang fights or other businesses, he'd take photos of every stray cats he sees in the streets. every stray that he could see.

tuning in from a conversation, eyes trailing towards the small beings and randomly fishing out his phone so that he could snap photos of the cats a few steps away.

he does them sneakily, out of anyone's sight because rindou.

cat photos takes up most of his gallery, but that's alright ♥

later that night, he'd send all of them to you before bed without context.

tired eyes, slumping into the pillow, screen lit in his dark room but always, always anticipating your comments no matter what.

'AWW, look at his eyes!! :'(((💗💗💗'

'FLOOF!'

'rinnnn shes's so cute helpppppp 😭😭😭'

'baby has SOCKSSSSS!'

'look at this distinguished gentleman :'(('

'hgngjggnhghhh look dis kittys ears.whiskers. wanna bite. cute. for WAAAAAT>:('

'thank you, rindou :'> '

rindou's heart swells with happiness at your replies.

dumb, he smiles, and sometimes even laugh reading your remarks on very single photo which he'd sent.

you are up, wild and excited over some furry beings, and he's down bad for it.

it's an exchange of serotonin, you see. your happiness over cats brings him happiness.

rindou doesn't mind doing this every day.

tossing and turning in his bed, picturing you all jolly in his mind. he runs a hand through his hair and brighten at an idea.

he grins, imagining your gleeful expression if he bring a real cat with him to see you tomorrow.

"...at least one of us is in a good mood."

"get out, brother."

but please tell him to be careful! One time he chased a stray for a photo but ended up ramming his head into a pole.

thats fine bc he got ur full attention the next day.

to conclude, he loves you, and he loves cats' effects on you <3

this boy has been on my mind for months >:( pay up, haitani.

do leave comments & interact below! xx

527 notes · View notes

xx-thedarklord-xx · 3 years

Text

Is This On?

Also on Ao3

Muggle things weren’t that complicated. If Potter could master them, then so could Draco. Refrigerators were a godsend and whoever invented the telly was a genius. He had figured out the function of a light bulb instantly, it was the electricity itself that he still hadn’t fully grasped. Where did it come from? How did it know when to work? Some things, however, didn’t make any sense no matter how many times it was explained to him.

The internet.

Draco didn’t understand where it began, where it was located or how it worked. All he knew was that he could ask questions to the phone Harry gave him and it would answer back. Sometimes the lady trapped in the phone would send him to the internet to provide information or other times to a little telly inside the phone too.

Which led him to his current predicament.

Harry sometimes used the internet to talk to Granger. There was a little camera on the computer. At least that’s what Harry said but hadn’t really ever showed him much more than that. Could he use it to talk to Harry?

Draco poked the little camera several times, trying to get it to work. He typed in the password that Harry wrote down hoping that would help. When he was met with a photo of the two of them, he tried not to be endeared. Potter would be such a sentimental sap.

“How does this work?” Draco muttered to himself as he stared at the little icons. He couldn’t remember the steps Harry had taken to talk to Granger. Would it even work if he had remembered? He didn’t want to talk to Granger, he wanted to talk to Harry.

“Internet show me Harry.”

Nothing happened.

Draco huffed. It had been a long shot anyway. Reluctantly, Draco pulled out his phone and hit the button that brought out the lady inside. “How do I call on the internet?”

She repeated his question to him as if that was going to help somehow before he was brought to a list of options.

“Skype.” Draco wrinkled his nose. That didn’t sound familiar. He set his phone down and opened the same icon on the computer that his phone had brought him to and typed in Skype.

The first thing that popped up was a little telly. Harry called them videos, but Draco liked that they were little tellies and didn’t care what Harry said. The little telly was boring and showed him too many steps to follow. What drew his attention were more little tellies that he could select from. Some were about Skype too, but others were about all kinds of things.

Make-up. Music. Food. Books. Sports.

There were too many to choose from. So he watched several different little tellies. A lot of them were boring and he ended up either leaving for another one or skipping to the good stuff. Some people weren’t the actors that they thought they were. Honestly, where was the charisma? The charm? He could do it much better.

Draco paused, thumb over the mouse as he thought about it.

He could do it better than most of the people in the little tellies. He had the charisma that they didn’t, he had the charm, the looks, the better smile. And his life was much more interesting than these people. Those with boring lives shouldn’t talk for an hour unless their aim was to put people to sleep. Oh, that was another thought. Were there little tellies to fall asleep? There were little tellies for everything. He rather liked the internet, even if it made no sense.

Draco watched a few more little tellies before he figured he knew enough to do it too. It wouldn’t let him make a little telly until he created an account, which he thought was kind of rude, but it was their rules. A lot of people didn’t use their real name, so he chose not to either. It took him longer than he wanted to find something that suited him.

Slytherin’s Heir.

Finding out that Harry and his idiot friends thought that he had been Slytherin’s Heir had been flattering. Oh, they hadn’t thought that, but they didn’t realize the kind of compliment it had been. What he wouldn’t have given to be Slytherin’s Heir. That kind of power and social status would have made him untouchable.

With his name chosen, it wanted a photo, but Draco didn’t have any photos of him on Harry’s computer. So he didn’t do anything, let the internet do a blank one. Draco’s foot tapped a few times as he realized his account was complete. Now all he had to do was make a little telly.

It took a few times to find the right succession of buttons to find the live option. He didn’t really understand what being live meant, but he did know that meant that he didn’t have to have a little telly already made, that he could create one right there.

“Is this on?” Draco asked, lips pursed as he poked the camera. “I’m not really sure if this is working. Honestly, I was trying to talk to Harry when I decided to make a little telly. Harry’s my boyfriend. Hi Harry.”

Draco waved at the camera with a small smile. He wished he could see Harry’s face.

“Harry’s actually mad at me right now. He’s an annoying prat who likes to think he’s right all the time.” Draco paused; one side of his face scrunched as the thought about what Harry’s reaction would be to his little telly.

“Maybe mad is an exaggeration,” Draco sighed, one hand pushing through his hair. He hadn’t slicked it back in a few days, too out of sorts to feel up to it. His hair fell into his eyes which was an annoying reminder of why he liked his hair slicked in the first place. “He’s more disappointed.”

Draco grimaced as he remembered the last time he had seen Harry.

“He loves me,” Draco whispered, hating that his cheeks were warm. “He says it all the time. At least he used to.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped as he slumped in the chair with wheels that Harry insisted on using even though Draco thought it was a safety concern.

“When I say all the time, I do mean all the time,” Draco grinned. “He didn’t hear that growing up at all and I think he says it so much because he’s trying to make up for lost time. I don’t mind. I like hearing it. Makes me melt a little bit to know that he loves me so much.”

Draco frowned, sitting up straighter.

“You better not tell him that though. That’s embarrassing.” He waved a finger at the camera in what he hoped was a threatening manner.

“I didn’t hear I love you growing up either. It was rare to hear my parents say anything even hinting at love. But the thing is, I’ve always known they loved me. I could see it in the things they did. When my father would show me a new spell or help me with my hand movements. My mother would bring home my favourite sweets whenever she went out. They would stay up later than was presentable with me and listen to the radio.”

The smile on his face was bittersweet. As much as he knew that his parents loved him, it would have been nice to hear it more than they did.

“I guess I picked up their habit,” Draco winced. “I tell Harry I love him… sometimes. I try to tell him more, but the words don’t come easy to me. My parents knew I loved them, and they certainly didn’t need me to say it. But I try to show Harry too!”

Draco’s hands had begun to move in the beginning but were now thrown in the air.

“I make sure whenever he’s on a case to keep his plants watered, even if the one Neville gave him has it out for me and tries to kill me. When he’s having a bad day I make sure his duvet smells like mint because I know he’s going to collapse on our bed and not move for longer than is healthy and for some reason mint is his favourite smell. I don’t really know how to cook that well but the lady in my phone helps me order from Harry’s favourite restaurant and I do that when he’s feeling sad and sometimes when he’s really happy too.”

Draco’s lips turned downward the longer he talked. It bothered him that Harry couldn’t see that he was loved.

“I’m not a people person but I willingly go with him on what he calls adventures around London. Adventure is accurate because wherever Harry goes, trouble follows. Last month we had to run from people with sticks on horses. Harry said they were the law, but I feel like if you were lawmen then you should dress better but that’s beside the point. Then there was this one time we got kicked out of a library. That was more my fault, but Harry was the one who didn’t tell me that the books didn’t talk or yell. Who wants to go to a library with silent books? That’s like going to a gallery where the paintings don’t talk. What’s the point?”

Muggles were weird, honestly. There were a lot of things they did that were smart, and he wished that Wizards would adopt too. But a large amount of what Muggles did was boring. They lived boring lives and he felt bad that they didn’t have Magic to spice it up.

“I try to show with actions how much he means to me, and I thought I was doing a good job at it, but I guess not.” His eyes closed as he remembered the hurt expression on Harrys’ face.

“He told me he wished I would tell him I loved him more. I told him there was no point. Which in hindsight, I’ll admit was a mistake. I don’t take it back, mind you. But I wish I had explained better before he left. I meant there was no point in saying it more if I could tell him through actions. Which I have been doing since I realized I loved him. I thought he knew. I thought he could see how much I love him.”

Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat. He wasn’t worried about their relationship, not really. Harry sometimes needed a few days to cool down when they argued. Only usually, it was anger that was the parting goodbye and not a heartbreaking sadness.

He looked back to the camera, hating that his eyes were wet.

“I love him, so much. I could talk about all the things he does for me that I love. Like the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel loved and whole. The way he holds my hand too tight, like he thinks I’ll pull away. As if I ever would. Or the way I feel like I’m high on liquid luck whenever we’re together. But those are selfish to point out. I don’t want to talk about me when I bring up what I love about him. That’s conceited.

“I love the way he throws a fist in the air when he gets an answer on the telly right. I love his stupid hair that has to be sentient at this point, never lying flat. I love the softness in his eyes when he’s happy, the way they shine so brightly. Almost as bright as his smile. I love how kind he is. I know I give him shit for that, which I should, but there’s a goodness to him that isn’t common anymore, and I love that. I love how much he cares about other people.

“I love how hard he works—puts every ounce of himself into whatever he’s working on no matter how big or small. I love how smart he is, even if he doesn’t see it himself. He thinks of the world in ways that others don’t—a genius to him that fascinates me. I love how much he loves. He loves with everything that he has. He loves people in general. Wants to see the best in them, has a faith that never wavers. His friends are his family, his family is his world and the love he has for all of them is another extension of himself that is everlasting.”

Draco blinked through the wetness as he sniffled.

“I’m honoured to be part of that love. To know that he could care about me a fraction of what he feels for others is overwhelming. I know he loves me; Merlin knows that I do. How could I not? He doesn’t just say it, he shows it. And I just wish that he knew how much I loved him too. I know I don’t say it enough, and I try, I do, but I had hoped that he could see it. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I didn’t show it enough, maybe I didn’t try harder. Maybe I should have done more.”

Draco wiped at his cheeks hating that he let his emotions get the best of him. Especially on his first little telly!

“What hurts the most is that I don’t know how else I could have showed him,” Draco laughed bitterly. “I really don’t. I give so much of myself to Harry, perhaps that’s not healthy, but it’s true. I love him so bloody much and I hate that he doesn’t see that, that he doesn’t know. How could I not love him? Harry, how could you not know that I love you?

“I love you…”

Draco took a deep breath, wishing it wasn’t as shaky as it was as he twirled in the chair. That had to be the reason Muggles had such dangerous chairs, so they could twirl.

“My first little telly wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Draco smiled wryly as he placed his chin on his palm. “I was supposed to charm you all with my good looks and witty personality. And what did I do? Cry over my relationship issues. Like anyone wants to see that. Maybe I’ll tell you the story of how Harry and I fell in love next time. Or maybe the first time we met. Something happier than my tears. Pansy always said I’m an ugly crier—the jealous bitch—so no sad topics next time, I promise.”

Draco leaned forward; lips pursed as he tried to figure out how to turn it off.

“I’m not sure anyone is going to see this. Maybe that’s for the best. I just know I look like a cross between Doxy droppings and Weasley on a good day. I hope you all are having a better day than I am. I’m going to go as soon as I shut this off.”

Draco frowned, clicking a few buttons before he gave up and shut down the whole computer. The simplest solutions were for the best. He spun in the chair one more time facing the rest of their flat, wishing not for the first time that Harry hadn’t taken his happiness when he left.

——

Watching his little telly back was a painful experience. His charm and charisma were there, but it didn’t look as polished as some of the other little tellies he had seen. He’d just have to keep trying.

Draco was about to start a new one when he noticed that there were a lot more numbers than there should have been at the bottom. It had been two days since he had made it, and he expected there to only be his replay.

Not the 819,543 that stared at him. And every passing minute the number grew by the tens of thousands.

Draco double checked that he was on his little telly and not someone else’s before he covered his mouth. Did that many people see him cry? Merlin, what did he do? While the thought was horrifying, what truly scared him was that there were comments.

There were comments.

Oh no.

Draco groaned, already blaming all of this on Harry. And the internet, the internet could take the blame too. With one eye closed, he scrolled down.

NamelessHope 1 day ago Anyone else find this endearing? He’s like an old grandma that doesn’t know how the internet works.

Sorrymum 5 hours ago He’s so cute. Why can’t you be single?

Michael the Sexual Taco 2 minutes ago His partner is trash. It’s so obvious he’s in love. How could Harry not see it?

Bleach 2 days ago First!!!

CubesAreTriangles 13 hours ago Go bottom go!

Potatoes for Life 7 hours ago Nooooo don’t cry! If you cry I’m going to cry

Draco squinted at the comments. Why were Muggles so fucking weird? And what did they mean bottom? Did people just assume things like that? He liked to fuck and be fucked, thank you very much.

Meaty Meat 10 minutes ago Y r u gay

Draco snorted. Okay, maybe Muggles were entertaining.

Casey J 1 day ago I can’t tell if you’re just ranting or want advise. If it’s the former, then ignore me. But maybe Harry does know you love him. I think it’s obvious that you do, so he must know that. Maybe he needs it said too.

Randy Rants 8 hours ago You need couples therapy not the internet

ParsleySnips 2 days ago I totally cried

Pearl’s Pearly Pearls 2 days ago I want to be loved like you love Harry.

SwiperNoSwiping 1 hour ago If you two don’t break up you should do another video with him.

Draco scowled. They weren’t going to break up. A touch of hesitancy filled him at the thought. It had been 6 days since he last saw Harry. Not their worst fight, and he would’ve tried to find Harry and talk to him if it had been completely silent. But Harry sent a Patronus every morning that nuzzled him awake. The Patronus didn’t speak a message but the love he could feel was a message all on its own.

Karla S 1 day ago Am I the only one who caught that he said spell? Is your father a devil worshiper?

Gigi’s my Daddy 2 days ago Little tellies. That’s so cute. That should be our fandom name when you blow up.

Gay4You 20 hours ago I’ve never been invested in someone else’s love life this much. If you and Harry don’t make up I’m going to riot.

Draco looked through several more comments before he pushed away from the computer. There were a few rude ones and a lot more supportive ones, but all of it made him nervous. He didn’t like that so many people knew about his feelings. It was his own fault for making the little telly, but he didn’t think anyone was going to see it!

Part of him was panicking. He could delete it, probably, if he asked the lady in his phone how. But did he want to? Draco bit his lip, unsure what to do. If he deleted it, all those people who saw it would still remember it, so he’d only be stopping new people from viewing it.

Before he could go over the pros and cons of either option, the front door slammed open, causing him to yelp and jump out of the chair.

Hands raised, Draco glared at Harry, who was staring at him intently, chest moving rapidly.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco sneered. “I nearly came out of my skin. If you’re trying to kill me, you almost succeeded. Merlin don’t do that a—”

Draco cut off when Harry marched toward him, eyes still intense. His mouth was still open, ready so say something, but nothing came out when warm hands cupped his cheeks.

“Draco, I’ve always known you loved me.”

Oh no.

He closed his eyes tightly. Harry watched his little telly. How? Why?

“Hey,” Harry whispered, thumbs moving in a gentle caress. “Look at me.”

Draco shook his head. He didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.”

That had his eyes opening before they widened. “What?”

“We’re so different,” Harry began with a wry chuckle. “Everything about us is different. And for some reason I forgot that. I assumed that our love language was the same. But the beautiful thing about languages is how different they are. I expected yours to be the same as mine and I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Draco hated that his voice wavered.

“You’re right, I do say I love you a lot.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Draco hurried to explain. “I didn’t mean it to sound—”

“I know,” Harry shushed him, a thumb placed over his bottom lip. “I say it because I don’t want you to forget that I love you.”

Draco shook his head, wanting to tell Harry that he could never forget. How could he? But he didn’t want to interrupt.

“When I was little, I didn’t just want to be loved by my relatives, I wanted to love them too. But they hated me, and the feeling was mutual. I wanted to love someone just as much as I wanted to be loved. And I guess I say it so much as a reminder to never forget that. I love you, Draco and I can’t help but say it over and over again.”

“I know,” Draco parroted as he pressed a kiss to the thumb still over his lip. “I love that you say it so much. I don’t want you to stop. Lately, you’ve been saying it less.”

Harry’s eyes closed briefly. “I’m sorry. You don’t always say it back and that hurts. I thought you didn’t want me to say it. I thought—”

“No,” Draco shook his head again, this time more violently. “Please no. I’m sorry. I want to say it more, and I promise I’ll try but please don’t stop saying it if I can’t.”

Harry shushed him again and if he wasn’t so close to crying, he’d probably have hexed Harry for treating him like a scared child.

“You do show me that you love me,” Harry said, eyes soft and full of the love that Draco wasn’t sure he could live without. “All the time and that’s your love language. You show me through actions, and I needed the reminder.”

“I want to give you the love you deserve,” Draco whispered, blinking rapidly, willing himself not to cry. “You deserve to hear it just as much as you give it. And I’m sorry I don’t do that.”

“I don’t need it,” Harry argued, eyes narrowed. “And don’t you dare presume to know what I deserve. I get to decide that, and I’ve already given you my heart. So it’s up to you to keep it safe.”

Draco inhaled sharply. Harry’s love was special. “I want to love you vocally too. I want to love you the way you love me.”

“The way you love me is exactly what I need.”

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I feel like you’re settling.”

“Not your decision.”

“Harry—”

“Draco,” Harry began, flicking him in the forehead. “If you want to say it more, I won’t object. I’m just telling you that I don’t need it like I thought I did. We’re in love and it doesn’t matter how different we show it. The love is still there.”

“Okay,” Draco sniffled, wiping his nose on Harry’s shoulder when he was pulled into a strong embrace. After days of no contact, he basked in their combined warmth. A feeling he had missed more than he thought possible.

Draco turned his head, mouth near Harry’s ear as he whispered,

“I love you.”

If Harry held on tighter, and Draco felt a wetness on his neck, well that was no one else’s business.

~Fin

———

Short Extra

“Hi little tellies!” Draco waved at their new camera, one that Harry now manned, taking in Draco’s new hobby in stride.

“I had planned an intro like all the rest of them do but that’s so boring. Over here we’re better than everyone else. So I said fuck it and tossed it away. Let’s just get to the good stuff. You’ll never guess what Harry did yesterday. It was so embarrassing.”

“Do you have to embarrass me to so many people?”

Draco grinned, nose scrunching at Harry’s glare. He knew his followers wanted to see Harry, but Harry didn’t want to be in the little tellies like that. Plus, Draco kind of liked that it was just him.

“What do you mean?” Draco blinked, adopting an innocent expression that had stopped working on Dobby when he was three. “I’m just telling my friends.”

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, eyes on the subscriber count that was rapidly increasing. “All 3 million of them.”

It still blew his mind that so many people wanted to hear him talk about his life. He had known from the beginning that he could pull it off. Had always known he had more charm than everyone else on the internet. His little tellies were clearly superior.

And to think it all stemmed from his love of Harry.

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This is a story for @rieraclaelin who I know has been having issues reading fic lately so please don't feel like you have to read this at all. I just wanted there to be a gift for you whenever you do feel like readings stories. I adore you!

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Youtuber Draco

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