#laufeyfest
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Love to Keep Me Warm
Title: Love to Keep Me Warm
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 1.8k
Pairing: Harry Potter x Slytherin!Reader
Summary: Harry has learned to keep secrets from his best friend, but it helps when his best friend is a dense as a pile of rocks.
Authors Note: Day 3!...Week...3? Anyway, this fic was kinda heavily inspired by Lily's Boy by SomewheresSword on ao3. I literally devoured it in like a week, it was so good. I hate JK with a passion, but her characters are so yummy. Shorter this time, but I hope you guys like it all the same!
Love him to death, but there was only so much Ronald Weasley Harry could put up with. His best friend, to be fair, was a teenage boy with about 8 times the usual amount of sibling jealousy coursing through his veins which made him act irrationally more times than not. And, no doubt being best friends with the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Savior of the World, the Boy With the Scar - you get the picture - made those jealous spikes just a tad worse, especially now that his Mum saw Harry as one of her own children. So, Harry being the good friend he was, something he said to himself to justify his action, tried his best to be on his good side, sometimes bending to his will more than a standard friend would. Hermione, for instance, never made him feel like he couldn’t spend his money on an expensive new pair of Quidditch gloves, or a Wireless to keep up with the news. A glare, maybe, if the purchase was a little reckless, but that was her just looking out for him. Ron on the other hand…
Harry knew it was selfish, to want to spend the money he had on anything he wanted, but having grown up with nothing to his name, objects found themselves being a nice, new addition to his wizarding life. He got into the habit of buying two of everything, just to make sure Ron felt included. Ron’s bashful smile was more often than not a nice reprieve from his unknowing jealous glare.
All this being said, there has been a lot Harry had learned to keep private. Yes, the big things are harder, he still remembers the outraged look on his face when Harry told him about making Seeker, but the smaller things, those have gotten easier to cover up. Spending more time with Hermione? Easy deflection towards Ron’s recent tutoring sessions. Got a high mark on an essay? Ron trusts his word enough that paper proof is not even needed. Getting along better with the twins? He volunteered to be their new test subject so Ron didn’t have to.
Harry does feel a little bad. Should it be this easy to lie to your friends?
If that wasn’t enough, Harry was starting to feel strangely proud about being able to navigate his way through Ron’s troubled attitude. After all, a year ago he couldn’t imagine being so cunning without the fear and shame of deceit.
Peering across the Great Hall, he locked eyes with a certain green-tied classmate, blushing to the tips of his ears when he was met with a wink.
“Maybe if you followed the essay plan I made you, you wouldn’t be so far behind,” Hermione snarked, flicking her pen accusatorily at Ron across the table. Ron grumbled, waving the feathers away from his face.
“I can’t help it, ‘Mione! You have to admit that even you struggle to stay awake in History of Magic. It’s bloody awful,”
“Some of us actually like to learn, and any subject is interesting if you find something you like.” Harry could barely hear her, too preoccupied with the gentle smile he got in response to his goofy one.
“That’s not fair! You like to learn and you think everything is bloody interesting.” Ron huffed again, pushing away the heavily edited draft Hermione was passing over. “Let me get one minute of peace, at least while we eat. It’s nearly Christmas anyway, no one even cares about papers right now.” Harry subtly caught the flying kiss that was sent in his direction, mouthing ‘Seeker’ with a devilish The responding giggle made his heart flutter.
“Yes, they do! There’s a reason we get work over the holiday, mind you, because they want us to learn as much as possible before exams.”
“You’re being ridiculous! Binns is just as excited for the break as we are, he’s not going to expect O level work.”
“He’s a ghost, Ronald! And he doesn’t even celebrate Christmas.”
“Harry!” This made Harry finally peel his eyes away, jumping out of his skin now that he realized that both of his friends were eyeing him. “...what are you doing?”
“What?”
“Were you looking at…the Slytherin table?” Ron’s face only looked so disgusted for two reasons - when he thinks about his time belching slugs, and when he thinks about Slytherins. Harry’s knee started to bounce involuntarily.
“Just trying to get a rise out of, uh, Malfoy, you know. Not important. What were you two saying?” Ron looked mildly skeptical, but there was a little twinkle in his look at the prospect of annoying Malfoy. He spared a single glance to the other table - crap! Malfoy wasn’t even looking in this direction, let alone pissed at all - before deciding it wasn’t worth the extra thought.
“Tell Hermione she’s crazy for wanting to work so close to Christmas.”
“No, tell Ronald that he is going to get a T if he continues to do work like this.” The two stared at him, both daring him to oppose them. Harry scratched the back of his neck, guilty pushing a breath between his teeth.
“Please don’t get me involved with this.” He was thankful that Ron’s betrayed look didn’t affect him as much as it used to, but Hermione’s glare still made his blood run cold. There was something, however, in his eyes that made him suspicious.
“Since you both insist on sacrificing your grades before the holidays, I’m going to the library alone. You can finish your paper on your own!” Ron’s eyes widened, scrambling to grab his things as Hermione stomped away.
“Bloody-” Harry narrowly dodged an elbow, though his lap did get a nice Yorkshire pudding companion in Ron’s haste, “I can’t believe you’re not coming with us to the Burrow. I’m going to be stuck with that all break!” Harry snickered, reaching across the table for a napkin.
“Just be thankful she always ends up helping you anyway.” Ron’s bag fell one more time before he was finally able to pull himself away from the bench, racing out the door to beg Hermione for her help. Merlin knows what will happen if he brings back another P to his Mother.
In the chaos, there were still distinctly Ron things scattered around the table and floor. A quill, for one, and his Transfiguration textbook that Harry knew Ron would need by this afternoon. Harry chuckled to himself, bending down to pick up a fallen piece of paper, pointedly ignoring the little doodle of Hermione’s name with a heart. When he righted himself, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Across from him, with equally devastating smirks, were the infamous Weasley twins. Harry gulped.
“Ah. What can I do for you gentlemen on his fine day?” Harry asked awkwardly, shufflings Ron’s stuff into a pile just to have something to do other than admit that he was just a little bit nervous. Especially when the twins have that look.
“It’s the strangest thing, you know?” Fred started, leaning towards Harry. They boy didn’t dare speak, but leaned forward too, not knowing if he wanted to hear what would be said next.
“What is, Forge?” George said, mirroring his twin. They all looked a little silly, butting heads over the great, big table, but Harry couldn’t find himself laughing at the moment.
“Well, Gred, I think my eyes are started to trick me.”
“Trick you?!” George said in mock surprise. “Whatever could you mean by that?”
“What else could it be, if not trickery? You see, I was just enjoying my breakfast-”
“What a lovely breakfast it was, too.”
“=when I looked over and saw our very own Harrykins with bright red cheeks!”
“Bright red, you say?”
“As red as a baby’s bum!”
“Oh, my!” Harry felt his face burning once again.
“So I looked over-”
“And what did you see?”
“-to see our very own hero fraternizing with the enemy!”
“Wait!” Harry whispered, yanking them in closer. The devil twins had equally large smiles on their faces. He thought of coming up with an excuse for a split moment, but, Harry realized with dread, that those smiles only meant one thing - the twins already knew the answer and were only waiting for confirmation. Whether that confirmation was verbal or not was of little issue for them. A rock formed in his stomach. Knowing the twins, if they didn’t get an answer now… “No one can know.” At this, their eyebrows raised.
“Am I hearing things correctly?” Fred mimed cleaning his ear, George staring at him with blazing eyes. Harry gulped, nodding his head, unable to meet their eyes. Dread for inevitable pranks turned into dread at rejection, a bubbling fear that the twins would do what he always feared Ron would do one day, turn their backs on him.
“Our little Harrykins is all grown up!” George whispered loudly, ruffling Harry’s already crazy hair. Harry’s head shot up, looking up to see equally smiling faces. Mischievous, as always, but there was a certain softness at the corners. Harry’s confusion quickly covered all his other bad feelings. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us.”
“...what?”
“I knew you were the savior type, but I didn’t know you’d go as far as actively searching a snake pit.” Fred’s wiggling eyebrows made Harry smile sheepishly.
“It wasn’t on purpose…an accidental meeting, if you will, last Christmas.”
“Oh, ho! We finally have the real reason Mother’s beloved adopted child is not joining us this year.” Harry blushed again. “Now, do we have to go over all the safety procedures of a healthy relationship, Can’t have our special boy be defiled by evil, now can we.”
“No, we can’t, Gred.” Their smiles turned devious again. “Now, what was it Father-dearest said to us? Oh yes, the contraceptive charm is very useful in these types of situations-”
“And you can never be too safe, so remember to take a potion afterwards-”
“Okay!” Harry yelled, standing up. He hastily gathered his and Ron’s items, hurrying to the door. “Thank you very much!”
“We haven’t even told you about the dangers of teen pregnancy.” One of them, Harry couldn’t care anymore, yelled at his back, the other cackling loudly.
“Or the dangers of STDs-”
“That’s quite enough, you two! 10 points of Gryffindor for inappropriate language.”
Harry dared to look over his shoulder at the green table across the room as he exited the grand doors, blushing, something he seemed to be doing a lot recently, when he locked eyes with the one pair he desperately wished wouldn’t have noticed the frankly humiliating interaction. The mischievous twinkle in them made Harry dread the teasing that would come, once most of the school left for the holiday and they were finally able to do more than exchange glances across a sea of unsuspecting classmates. Sappy as it was, Harry thought, he couldn’t wait.
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masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist
#harry potter imagine#harry potter x reader#harry potter x slytherin!reader#harry potter one shot#laufeyfest#someonexsomeone#hogwarts imagine#hogwarts one shot#harry potter fluff
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Fragile
Title: Fragile
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 3.5k
Pairing: George Weasley x Reader
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament is a stupid idea...until it brings George something he didn't know he was looking for.
Authors Note: Day 6!!! Wel...okay I know this didn't go up last week. I had to take a week off because, in true fanfic author fashion, my landlord sold the house I was living in and we needed to find living asap lest we go homeless. But!! We did it!! I haven't slept and I'm so stressed I cried when we got approved for a new house, so I wrote this as a reward for myself! I hope you guys like it! I plan to get the one for this week out tomorrow so next Thursday will be back on schedule!
Dumbledore had made many confusing choices throughout the years George went to school with him as the headmaster. Allowing teachers to pick on students was the first to come to mind, followed quickly by random last-minute points to change the winners of the house cup (Fred told him several times to let it go since they won, but there was something that always nagged George about it), but this year’s TwiWizard Tournament was, he had to admit, quickly climbing the list. His brothers never mentioned anything about it, and neither had their parents, so why suddenly bring back a death tournament when everything around them was already a reminder of the death awaiting them outside the castle walls?
“A way to bond us all together!” Dumbledore happily explained, a twinkle in his eye that George knew only from the same look Fred got when he thought he was doing something brilliant, and since Fred was typically a coin toss on whether was would be true or not, George wiggled his nose in distrust. “I want everyone to remember this is a friendly competition, no matter how serious it may get, so intermingling is highly recommended. Now, how about we give a warm welcome to the two new schools joining us this year!”
It was as full of bravado as George expected, each school expecting to out-perform the other with shows of magic and flips and who knows what else, with Hogwarts left to do nothing but a jovial karaoke of their school's anthem. And, who was George to deny the crowd the twin’s spectacular singing voices? The giggles from the people around them were expected, but some coming from the other two schools was a welcome surprise. George couldn’t help giving it that much more of a performance, just to please his adoring audience, eyeing some of the lovely students in pale blue as they huddled closer to hide their laughter from a disapproving headmistress.
Then came the announcement of how to apply to the tournament. Fred only needed to spare his twin a glance before they nodded, each imagining the large treasure at the top of the podium. After years of selling products, snatching things here and there from Snape and Sprout and pretty much salvaging anything from anyone, there was a lump sum hiding at the bottom of Fred’s trunk, hidden cleverly in a bag disguised as a dirty pair of underwear, that would help improve their operation tenfold, but this? This would do more than they would ever imagine. How many products would they be able to make? How many ingredients they could buy to refine plans they only dared to dream of? Dare say, even turn their production into something so much more than a traveling trunk of wonder? George hadn’t hoped to dream so boldly so quickly, but this would be worth so much more than they could make for the rest of their time in school! This brain was whirling with the plans they already made, and how quickly they could be made real. And then…heartbreak.
“It’s for your safety!” he heard Fudge say, though it was nearly incomprehensible over the shouting throughout the Grand Hall, the twins louder than anyone else. Outrage! They were near enough to the age restriction, and who was some new old wizard to come in and make these decisions for them? Thus, the scheming began.
Even though he believed Dumbledore to be a bigger ditz than not, he did know his magic was stronger and more refined than the average wizard. Alright, the above-average wizard. But this was worth so much more than a little scolding, and he had seen the hint of a smile on the headmaster's face whenever the twins were on the verge of getting in trouble for their pranks. He had a soft spot for troublemakers, Fred decided early on, and it allowed them to be bolder than they would have under a more watchful eye. Jokes on him, George concluded many years later, that his more lenient attitude made him and Fred nearly overly confident in their abilities, especially their abilities to get away with things that a normal person couldn’t even think of.
A mountain of ingredients was needed for an age-altering potion, even one as temporary as they were planning on making. Illegal? Maybe. But there were no laws against age-altering potions so long as they didn’t get in trouble while under its influence or force someone against their will to drink it. A short 5 minutes, and only a few months of aging? They had made pranks much more elaborate, and they had spent more than their fair share of time over a bubbling cauldron. All they needed was to get the ingredients and everything was as good as set, right?
Wrong.
The first few ingredients were the easiest. George, ever the good student, volunteered to help Professor Sprout water the plants the first years were studying. She was so frazzled, bless her, that she didn’t notice George take clippings from a select bunch of herbs on the opposite side of the greenhouse from where he was supposed to be. Fred was able to sneak a little here and there from their shared potions classroom, and they had just enough money saved up for an innocuous visit to the potion shop down in Hogsmeade. They had more than enough flasks and bottles saved up over the years to dry the needed things appropriately, and the house elves were more than happy to allow them use of a burner to bring everything to a rolling boil. Everything was set for the brewing, needing to happen on a waxing moon to ensure they wouldn’t age too much too quickly, but there was still one, tiny, pesky problem left…
“How in the bloody hell are we going to find a Lightsparrow’s Talon!” Fred was beyond frustrated, pacing the room in front of his brother. The two had commandeered their dorm room, their roommates besides Lee Jordan knowing well enough now that being around the twins while they planned would inevitably cause them to get caught in the crossfire, with papers strewn all around the room. Theories, replacements, and possible combinations filled each page, all with nearly illegible scribbles confirming their uselessness. “I should have just snuck into Snape’s cupboard during detention when I had the chance!”
“And risk trouble not even McGonnogal could talk you out of? You know he’s only locked down even more since someone else started stealing from him.” Fred huffed, finally plopping down on his bed. “Besides, we don’t even know if he has any. None of the upper-level classes are brewing potions with them, and the Matron doesn’t have any potions that require them.”
“So, what? We just give up?” George rolled his eyes. After years of failed experiments, Fred’s grouchy attitude was more than easy to ignore.
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. I just think we need to get a little more creative.”
“But we’ve tried everything! That stupid library never has anything we actually need.” George just chuckled, walking over to his brother to give him a playful pat on the shoulder.
“Why don’t I go take another look before we give up all hope?” Fred huffed again, crossing his arms and slumping his shoulders like a child. “I haven’t reached the end of the Herbology section yet, and we have enough Swindlebrine powder for another go before the final product.” Fred looked at his twin once, before huffing again. A quick flop, and he was more or less laying across his bed.
“...fine. But, after dinner, we formulate a plan to take a look around Snape’s cupboard just in case.”
“Deal.” They shared a smile, George patting Fred’s leg this time, before ducking out the door. The easiest way to deal with Fred, before food was served, was either to distract him with a problem or let him rest. Sleeping, George found, was always the easier option.
Since the new students infiltrated the school, every time of day was absolutely bustling with activity. Between the end of classes and dinner, most students preferred to hang out with friends, meaning the hallways were empty besides the random groups that walked to and fro their destinations, and teachers were either tucked away in their offices to grade work or in their private studies doing their personal projects. It was the time of day that Fred and George found it easiest to scout out prank spots, and sometimes got as lucky as setting up the bulk of it to finish after curfew. Now though? George had to spin his body in every direction to avoid the constant stream of people. His height allowed him an advantage of seeing over most heads, but it also meant people were able to get extremely close and bump into him without any warning. After years of getting away with pranking people in plain sight with the help of a crowd, he was more alert than ever.
Just up ahead, a group of Hogwarts students were loudly arguing with a group from Durmstrang. About what, George didn’t even want to know, but it was making it incredibly difficult to get past. With a huff, one that would impress even Fred, he slipped into a nearby hallway, not nearly as bad as the main corridor, but he didn’t waste much time before making a few more turns. The good part of sneaking out past curfew was the ability to explore every part of the castle without getting distracted. He and Fred nearly had the layout memorized, but the secret passages granted them much easier access. The way he was walking would take him the long way to the Library, but it was filled with empty hallways courtesy of the tens of abandoned classrooms. The further he walked, the fewer people he could see and hear around him, until he came to a pocket with absolutely no one. On either side, the roar of students was ongoing, but the reprieve did George a moment to breathe.
If this was your school, George thought bitterly, you wouldn’t be treating everything so disrespectfully. Honestly! Who even told them that wandering around the school was a good idea?
“I’ve already told you no, Dennel.” George stopped still. Just around the corner, he could hear the shuffle of feet, almost like they were walking in circles. Vaguely, he thought he recognized the voice, but no face came to mind immediately.
“My Darling, don’t you know that saying no now will do nothing to help you later?” That voice he did know. George groaned internally. The other bad part of all the new students was the absolute influx of activity in the classroom, namely from a group of Beauxbatons boys that thought it was so fun to flaunt their power and wealth and knowledge, even if they were wrong more often than not. It was almost like having the worst combination of Hermione and Draco, multiplied by 5. The leader of their stupid clique? Luc Dennel, a prat in every meaning of the word. “My Mother has already sent the robes. Do you want to break her heart?”
“That’s why I’m giving it back. You have no right to speak for me or dictate what I wear.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.” George leaned around the corner, peaking out just far enough to witness the conversation. With a start, he recognized you immediately. Although you only shared a few classes, George remembered you were skilled in the subjects you did share, and even went as far as helping those around you in spite of their magical school. At one point, you had even helped with some of his wand movement. His hand tingled in reminder.
“Get your hands off of me.” Dennel had you cornered in the hallway, positioning you so your back was to the wall with little room for escape. In your white-knuckled hand was a bag, no doubt the robes his Mother supposedly sent you, but above that, Dannel had his fingers gripping your wrist so tightly there was no debate on whether it hurt or not.
“Just submit to me already.” Dennel’s words were honey, but his tone sent a shiver down George’s spine. Not from fear, no, but from disgust. “It will happen sooner than you think. Why not just do it now?”
You were shaking. George could see even from his vantage point that your legs were on the brink of giving out, the grip on the bag the only thing keeping you from collapsing. A troubling burn whirled in his chest, the unmistakable feeling of needing to help someone bubbling to the surface. He could hardly remember the last time he felt this, though vaguely the image of Ginny shivering against him when people were accusing her all throughout her First Year of being strange for being so protective of her journal. His hand gripped his wand fiercely. He could hardly watch the way Dennel’s hand raised to touch your face.
“Surely the product in your hair didn’t make you deaf, eh, Dennel?” George rounded the corner then. Both you and Dennel jumped, whipping your heads to look at the unknown spectator to your conversation. George watched your shoulders deflate, from relief or embarrassment he couldn’t tell. George didn’t even flinch at the glare Dennel sent him. “Don’t you know it’s not very polite to corner unsuspecting people in a corridor?”
“This is none of your business, Weasley.”
“Oh? Apologies, I wasn’t aware you owned the hallway.”
“No, but I do own them. So, butt out.” In a single moment, before George could even wave his wand, your fist collided with Dennel’s face, sending you both flying with the grip he still had on your arm. George rushed over, pulling you from the floor and away before Dennel could recover. Your glare was fierce, but George could feel your shaking now as your body was pressed against his.
“No one owns me,” you growled out, laughing the bag at the body on the floor. Dennel recoiled as George flinched. Sympathy pains in this case, he hated to admit, always existed man to man, no matter who they were. “Not even you.”
George hurriedly pulled you along the corridor, away from his original target of the Library, to a hidden corridor. He winced once as the magical door closed behind him, hoping that after escaping that disaster you wouldn’t mind being alone in another low-lit corridor with a man just for a few moments in order to get you to safety.
“I’m sorry, I know you probably don’t want to be in this enclosed space. Just through here, though, will take you to the courtyard. We’ll be out quick, promise.” He tried to gently guide you, mindful of the painful bruise he could see already forming around your wrist, but you only managed one step before your legs gave out. George joined you on the floor quickly. “Woah! Hey, are you okay?”
He hardly knew what to do when you burst into tears, your entire body quaking with your silent sobs. His arms hovered awkwardly, too afraid to touch you but too worried to give you space. All it took was a gentle pat on your back before you turned, throwing yourself into his arms, seeking any comfort you could.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” George could barely make out the whispers between your chattering teeth.
“Oh, no, you have nothing to apologize for,” he reassured quietly. He took another moment, before wrapping his arms entirely around you, squeezing as tightly as he could to his chest. His back was aching with the effort to keep you both upright, but he tried to focus instead on quietly murmuring affirming words to you, watching as the candlelight flickered across the dirt walls in order to keep his breath deep and calming. Who knew that having a little sister that was terrified of everything would make him an expert in handling people?
The two of you sat there until your breathing slowed to a gentle rhythm, your body almost completely still, and then some. George continued his work, moving from reassurances to mindless chatter, just filling the quiet room with something other than your stuttering gasps of air, not letting you go for a moment. He worried you fell asleep for a second, before you gingerly sat up, rubbing your red eyes to get rid of any cloudy vision.
“I don’t normally do that, I promise.” George let out a startled laugh at your admittance, breaking the gentle atmosphere. You gave him a weak smile.
“I always knew Dennel was an ass.” This time you laughed, offering your hand to help George off the floor. Without needing the words, you looked each other over, whipping a smudge of dirt and a fleck of dust to ensure you both were clean. Well, clean as you could be after proactively cuddling on the floor. Your cheeks flared when you came to the realization of what you must look like to an outsider. You met George’s eyes again when he reached over and gently pat your hair down.
“Thank you.” George just gave you a smile.
“It was no problem at all.”
“Even if it means Dennel is going to be an insufferable ass to you now?”
“He already was.” That made you laugh again. George realized he really liked making you laugh. “What’s his problem, anyway?” At this, your smile fell. George felt like kicking himself. There was an awkward beat of silence. “You don’t have to-”
“He wants my hand in marriage,” you said at the same time. That made George gape. “Well, he wants my family’s business in order to save his, so marriage is what he’s set on now.”
“But…but he’s a Seventh Year! And you’re a Fifth Year! That can’t be allowed.” You rolled your eyes.
“Weasley. Surely you know of the old pureblood traditions. Fifth Year is hardly too young to arrange a marriage.” George just continued to gape at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to marry him.”
“Good!” Even George winced at how loud that came out. “I mean, good. He’s a prick.”
“A massive one.” Your smile was back. “So, is there anything I can offer my knight in shining armor for the rescue?”
“Rescue?” George huffed, taken aback. “You hardly needed the help with an arm like that.”
“Yes, I will admit, the punch was all my doing.” George laughed. “But most people would just drop me off somewhere near people and hope I was okay. You’re a special breed, Weasely, to sit with someone on the floor of a dirty corridor while they went through hysterics.” You cut him off before he could rebuke. “So, anything I can help the King of Pranksters with? I am in your debt.”
“That is a dangerous thing to say to me, lovey.” George’s mischievous smirk sent a chill down your spine. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to raincheck that favor. Unless, of course, you could get me a Lightsparrow’s Talon,” George laughed.
Despite the obvious sarcasm in his voice, you still responded, “Would a liquid form work?” That stopped his humor immediately.
“What?”
“Would a liquid form work? It’s the only type I have on me.” You rummaged through your pocket, producing a small bottle of…something that glimmered lightly against the candlelight. George wondered if he was going to have a jaw ache from the way it kept falling open.
“Where did you get that?!” Even as you held it out to him, he was frozen solid.
“It’s not in its purest form, but you wouldn’t need it to be anyway if you’re making a potion. If you mix in some snail secretion it should become tacky again without compromising the effects.” When he still didn’t take it from you, you waved it gently. “Well? Will it work?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“What? Oh, I brought it from home.” George gave you a funny look. “Liquid Lightsparrow Talon? Don’t you use it here as a cure for muscle and mental fatigue?”
“Lightsparrow Talon is extremely hard to get here!” It was your turn to look confused.
“The Talon is, yes. But if you gain their trust you can start a farm where they drop nearly all the time. The liquid form is a portion of the Talon ground down and liquified to make over a hundred doses per talon.”
“Is this common knowledge? How do you even know this?”
“The method is new, yes, but it’s been published hundreds of times over the years. The research team is based in France.” George smacked his hand against his forehead. Of course you would stop at E in the Herbology section, he thought miserably. If I had just continued for another row I would have answers for Fred by name. Your laugh pulled him from his thoughts.
“You’re pretty funny, you know that.” In a quick motion, you leaned over, tucking the bottle into his front pocket. His face flared red. “Let me know if you need anything else. The exit was this way, right…” Your voice trailed off as you made your way down the dirt path.
George felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
“Thank you, Dumbledore…”
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masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist
#george wealsey x reader#george weasley imagine#hogwarts imagine#harry potter imagine#laufeyfest#someonexsomeone#hogwarts one shot#george weasley one shot#george weasley imagines#george x reader#weasley imagine
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Everything I Know About Love
Title: Everything I Know About Love
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 3k
Pairing: Bella Swan x Reader
Summary: After a certain vampire left her life, Bella just tries to continue her life...without the expectation of meeting a drunkard at a party and talking about love.
Authors Note: DAY 5 WHOOP WHOOP I cant believe im actually doing it. Lots of reasons of life happening now that in the past ive let dictate my life, I'm actually proud of myself for keeping this going. Make sure to give yourself a pat on the back today. Afterall, you survived another one, against all odds :)
Though parties weren't really her scene, there was only so much more Charlie could take of her being in her room. Really, she had been feeling better little by little for the last couple of months, though she doubted she would ever feel completely whole again for a really long time, she wasn’t just wasting away like she was when Ed-...like she had been before. Jessica and Angela were being more than understanding, one more than the other though she didn’t want to name names, and the boys were keeping her easily distracted by asking her to tutor them. Jacob, of course, was doing more than enough by being by her side, even going as far as helping her fix up some old dirt bikes and teaching her to ride. Their weekly rides near the beach make the weekends that much sweeter, even if she’s probably spent more on laundry detergent in that time than she has her whole life.
So, she thought, you would think that all of this progress was good enough for Charlie to finally turn back to the relaxed, non-hovering parent she had come to appreciate, right? Wrong. Though he had gotten much better recently, finally stopping his stupid stop-ins to her room when she was quiet for too long, though it meant she was now doing her homework at the kitchen table rather than in the comfort of her room, he still looked at her like she was going to break apart at the slightest breeze, or even the mention of the Cullens. Cullen was a phrase much easier for her to say, recalling her near-death experience with Jasper and Rosalie’s sour face to cover Alice’s smiling face or Emmet’s welcoming demeanor or Esme’s gentle hands, but some words still caused her to shiver or go stockstill despite her reassurance that she was better, that she was going to be okay. Charlie knew better than to mention the redheaded Cullen if he could avoid it. And, so long as he remembered it, Bella was fine. Even if Charlie’s eyes betrayed his reassuring words, and his typical late nights at the office were instead moved to the house, papers scattered across the coffee table to act like both the crime map and coasters for his beer, she would continue to be.
She knew he was trying, trying as much as he possibly could for someone who didn’t really raise his daughter until the most hormonal parts, but it was like he didn’t even remember who she was…before. Scrapes and bruises on her arms from general clumsiness earned her a self-harm prevention pamphlet on her bed, missed meals earned her a furrowed brow, and any plans that weren’t outside made his mustache wiggle in an almost amused way. This, though, she almost wanted to scream at.
“Dad, seriously?”
“Listen, I’m just worried, Bells. It feels like you’ve been cooped up in your room for days.” It took all her willpower to not roll her eyes.
“Because it’s midterms? I’m not going to go out when these tests are important.”
“I know, but you even missed your date with Jacob this week!” She huffed.
“It’s not a date, Dad,” she said, exasperated that this was probably the millionth time she’s said the words but they never seemed to stick. “Plus, Jacob’s doing his midterms as well! You know Billy’s not going to let him go on that guy’s trip if he doesn’t get a B on his Math test, and he really wants to go.”
“I just don’t understand why you can’t go over and help-”
“And,” she cut him off, “I went out two weekends ago with the girls to get Prom dresses, per your request.”
“...I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright.” Bella huffed in defeat, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed. It was just supposed to be a peaceful afternoon nap before she got back to studying, a break for her eyes and hands from staring at the index cards thrown across her desk, but apparently, that was too much to ask.
“I’m fine, Dad, really. I just need to study.” Bella stood beside her desk, the picture-perfect student in every way. He still looked skeptical. She sighed. “Jessica is hosting a party this weekend. A get-together, to celebrate the end of exams.” She watched ruefully as he perked up immediately. “Can I go?”
Charlie played up the protective guardian, stroking his mustache in thought, before saying, “Will there be alcohol?” Bella just huffed again, rolling her eyes. “Okay, okay. As long as you promise to be responsible, and call me if anything looks suspicious, you can go.”
And that’s how she found herself sitting on the steps outside of Jessica’s family lakehouse. The perfect environment for debauchery, it was far enough away from Fork to feel like you were in the middle of nowhere without sacrificing any cell service. She could hear people cheering down by the water, jumping in although winter was just letting up across the PNW, and the music playing behind her made her blood thump heavily under her skin. For a long time, she found comfort in the sound of her own heart, the steady thumping she could hear if she paid attention, but now it just made her feel conflicted. The thing that Ed-...he loved about her, dare she say, most, a reminder of him that she couldn’t ever be parted from. It made her heart clench painfully. She took another sip of the drink in her cup, long warmed past the chill it once had.
Introverted to her core, Bella actually found herself thankful for the change in scenery. Although she had come to like Forks, there were a few downsides. Not only did everyone know everyone, which meant that her original plan to hide out in the library when the party was happening was quickly dashed when she remembered the weekend librarian was a frequent customer at Charlie’s favorite diner, but it also meant that midterms were not as much of a distraction as she hoped. Yes, her teachers were good, but the advanced placement curriculum at her old school made this school much easier. Jacob was gone this weekend too, receiving a B- on his Math test that made Billy roll his eyes, so he wasn’t there to shelter her from Charlie’s downcast eyes, and all of her school friends were going to attend this party, even Angela, who convinced her parents this was an important part of her adolescent upbringing. She thought Angela was her best bet to curb boredom and wandering hands, but as soon as she saw her boyfriend, it was game over.
The evening air was crisp out here, a dewy smell that reminded her of all those summers she was able to take a break from Arizona’s dry heat. The view from the cabin was amazing. The calm lake and the tree-filled skyline listed a little weight from her chest, just for a moment, the closest thing she’s gotten to be around her old vampire boyfriend as she could get. There was that stint in her life where she thought changing everything about herself was a great place to start to get over her first love, but past the shoulder-length haircut and dirt bikes, there wasn’t anything actually fun to her in the more dangerous activities she tried about. A shudder ran through her at the reminder of her attempt at cliff driving. She took one look over the edge before demanding Jacob escort her back to their car. He just laughed at her, waving her over to instead sit on the rocks and look out at the horizon. It was there that she learned gazing out at a body of water, whether ocean or lake, made her feel a peace she had been desperately looking for. Something about the majesty of the water, she reasoned, made her problems seem so insignificant…
“I’m not gonna throw up, you stupid head!” Bella nearly jumped out of her skin as the back door flew open, releasing the stench of sweaty teens and blasting pop music she escaped outside to avoid, There was a rumble of voices in the wake of the person stumbling out before the heavy door swung shut with a bang. Bella jumped up, holding her arms out faster than she could think, though she had no clue why she thought she would be able to catch the obviously drunk teen when she could barely stand on her own two feet most days. The person barely noticed Bella, stumbling past them to throw themselves against the deck’s railing. Bella worried they were gonna hurl, or worse, throw themselves over, but they did neither. Instead, they gasped heavily, like they hadn’t had a good breath of air in who knows how long, before leaning back and basically stumbling onto Bella’s feet. With a bounce, they ended up right next to her, their head snapping up to gape at Bella’s equally wide eyes.
“Holy shit! How long have you been there?!” Bella opened her mouth, but no words escaped. Instead, she stared at this stranger and mimicked a fish. “Oh my god, did I just sit on you? I’m so sorry!”
“No, you’re okay.” Bella hesitated. “Are you…okay? Not gonna hurl or anything, are you?” That earned a laugh, way too loud to be from anyone but a drunk person.
“Yeah! I just needed some fresh air.” Bella smiled at that.
“That’s why I’m out here too. It’s way too loud in there.” That one earned her a blinding smile. Bella let out a small puff of air, only a little uncomfortable around this random stranger, and unsure about what to do next. Does she sit down? No, that would be stupid.
“Why don’t you sit too? We can keep each other company, and become best friends!”
“Best friends?” Bella jumped as her hand was grabbed, and could do nothing against the sudden strong force pulling her down. Her drink went flying as her butt hit the step harshly.
“Yeah! I’m in the market for a new one.” If they noticed her pained expression, they didn’t say anything. Bella rubbed her back as they continued, “I was supposed to hang out here and celebrate with her, but turns out she’s a two-faced skank and hooked up with the guy I liked.” Bella just stared, open-mouthed. “Oh, don’t worry! It stopped hurting about…” The finger counting was near hilarious, but Bella was too worried about them to laugh. “I don’t remember! A while ago.” Then they huffed, nearly doing a 180 in emotion. “Besides, it’s not like I was in love or anything. I mean, I hardly knew the guy. But there was something about him…”
“I know what you mean.” The words were out before Bella could even think about the consequences.
“You do?” Bella hesitated, before nodding. “Were you in love?”
“Um…”
“Oh no!” Bella jumped back, nearly catching an elbow to the face as the stranger threw their hands in front of their face, “I made you uncomfortable! Oh, I’m so sorry! Me and my big fat mouth…”
“No! No, it’s okay!” Bella reached forward, pulling their hands away from their face, trying to earnestly look into their eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just…a little fresh.”
“...you’re sure?” Bella nodded once. “Oh! You’re too nice!” Then, arms were thrown around her, pulling her face far too close to a stranger’s. “Woah! And pretty!” The stranger huffed. Bella shivered as their breath puffed against her face. “I bet you get loads of dates.”
“I wouldn’t say that-”
“And you probably know everything about being in love! Tell me about it, please!” Bella blinked. Drunk memory, she figured, or they just had a really bad one. “Please, please! I need to know. What if he was the one, and I never knew because I didn’t know what it felt like!”
“I don’t…” Bella could feel the rejection on the tip of her tongue. Denial would be easy, it’s not like she knew who this person was anyway. Plus, it would probably be easy to lose them in the crowd inside, and a phone had to be somewhere around here to call Charlie to come pick her up, despite the plan to spend the night here to help Jessica clean in the morning. But…there was something sparkling in their eyes that made Bella hesitate. This was a complete stranger, a person that, if they even knew who she was before this night, probably knew nothing of her previous relationship. Especially if they were this drunk. They were looking at Bella with the biggest, most innocent eyes, gleaming with so much unbridled trust and innocence that Bella felt her soft heart waver. “...know how to describe it.”
“Is it like how everyone says it is?” Bella laughed a little at that, gently pushing them away to settle their face back into their own personal bubble. In retaliation, they swung their knees so they knocked against Bellas, making their shoe tips touch for good measure.
“It can be. It was for me.” Their look of awe made Bella giggle lightly.
“Really?”
“In a way.” Bella paused, watching their eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Was that the answer you’re looking for?”
“I don’t know…maybe?”
“Then…tell me what you’ve heard, and I can elaborate for you?” Bella watched as they mouthed the word ‘elaborate’ before the meaning clicked and they nodded their head enthusiastically.
“Just not too many words, okay? You’re a little…fuzzy?” Bella laughed lightly, nodding. The stranger smiled. “Yeah, that’s perfect! Okay, so, enchanting in every way.” Bella nodded, and their smile bloomed brighter. “It's everlasting every day.” Bella hesitated, before giving a so-so wave with her hand. They frowned in response. “Stomach sick with butterflies?” At Bella’s enthusiastic nod, they smiled again. “Sweet obsession, rose bouquets-”
“Trust me,” Bella said, cutting them off. She felt a little bad, but this was too complicated for a yes or no answer. “From personal experience, obsession is not what you want. Not when it’ll eat you whole.” That caused another bout of eyebrow-wiggling confusion.
After a moment, they said, “Maybe they were just obsessed with being in love? Obsessed with obsession is how things end up…no good.” Bella felt her eyes widen in shock. For a drunk person, someone who could barely remember a conversation from a moment ago and for completely disregarding personal space, that was shockingly coherent.
In their short months together, Bella couldn’t count the number of times Edw- he talked about falling in love. Their late nights together were spent half in silence, just gazing into each other's eyes, and the other half was spent talking about anything they felt the need to say. For Bella, it was what she was thinking, how she was raised, things she liked. For him, it was how long he had waited for her, for someone who sung for him and made him feel loved as he had seen Esme and Carlisle interact throughout their many years. She remembered the way his eyes shined as he talked about them, about the love they had for one another, the way they fit together better than anyone he had seen in his 100 years.
“I have that now, with you.” He whispered before kissing her, putting any conviction he had in the statement with the first press against her lips. And she had believed him, wholeheartedly. Looking back on it now, she can see why Charlie and her friends were worried for her. Months of on and off, of not knowing if Bella was gaining his attention in a good or bad way, the way he proclaimed his love to her within a month or two of knowing her. But…she could still feel his insistence, his devotion, and the love that sparkled in his eyes when they were together. There was no way that wasn’t real…was it?
“Maybe you’re right…” Bella whispered, neither convinced nor closed off to the possibility. These last few months have given her a lot of time to think things through. Writing to Alice had helped a little in the beginning, but having Jacob there to talk to, to finally have someone to open up to, especially after learning his own secret, their friendship had never been closer. He was always there for her, especially on the bad days, and cheered her on when she was able to get back on her own feet. After finally asking out the girl of his dreams, he didn’t abandon her, instead introducing them so Bella was always welcome without a hint or suspicion of something else, something unsaid, being there. Bella felt a swell of adoration when she thought of Jacob, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the way she felt with him. But was that such a bad thing?
“You’re frowning.” Bella started, flinching as a hand gently pressed on the space between her eyebrows. She hadn’t even realized they had pushed together.
“You’ve given me something to think about.” That caused a smile.
“Really?” Bella nodded. “Good! I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Bella laughed. Their smile brightened even more. In one swift motion, with far too much coordination for someone so drunk, they threw their arms around her, pulling her close and smacking a wet kiss against her cheek. Bella’s face flared bright red.
“And you’re not just a pretty face too! You’re a gorgeous face with a kind heart!” They slumped against her, resting their head against Bella’s shoulder, snuggling as close as they could in their awkward position. “Thank you for explaining things to me. I think it made me fall in love with you.”
“Wha-” Bella stuttered. They laughed loudly, pressing their lips against her cheek again with more teeth than necessary.
“And you’re funny! You have to give me your number now. I’m not gonna let that stank bag get to you before me this time.”
Joke or not, Bella couldn’t help her burning ears or the way her heart beat out of them. She also couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat. The first time in a long time.
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masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist
#twilight imagine#bella swan imagine#bella swan one shot#bella swan x reader#bella x reader#laufeyfest#twilight one shot#edward cullen slander#someonexsomeone
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Street By Street
Title: Street by Street
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 3.5k
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader
Summary: It's really hard to love someone with everything you have when they have already lived.
Authors Note: guys!! its the first fic of Laufeyfest! I really wanted all of these stories to be love stories, but sometimes love stories are too easy. instead, how about a story that hurts mwahahaha
Miguel O’Hara was a man of a million expressions and emotions, but very few words. Though intimidating at first, it didn’t take long for anyone to listen to his short, clip sentences to realize that his care was beyond the measure of any normal person. His heart, despite being hurt, thumped with care for his city and its people, and his actions were always first and foremost to help those in need. It was, admittedly, that care that put you in his path.
It wasn't often that a civilian drew his attention. To be fair, most of his life had been surrounded by astounding people, whether the other geniuses that surrounded him in school, the classes he took at university, the capable scientists that worked alongside him at Alchemax, and even now, with the best the multiverse had to offer (though, he refused to admit that out loud to anyone but LYLA, the only other person who knew his complete plan). But, there was something about the way your eyes shinned in dedication, the absolute fury he saw on your face when the city treated its people poorly, the pride in the way your shoulders sagged after making progress in a corrupt city, that had him returning for more, whether it was stopping by to monitor you while you worked in a way so uniquely you, or to personally meet you in the lobby to once again say no, he didn’t have time to do a meet and greet at the Rec Center despite how great it was that you were fighting for union workers working the steam lines. He wanted to, more than he cared to admit, just to see that blinding smile he saw only occasionally thrown around whatever new project you were working on, but things were unstable right now. The dread in his stomach at the thought of being away from his computer long enough to let a world-destroying anomaly get away was too much, even for you. He did, however, feel his resolve slowly chip away whenever your posture slumped a little, despite the countless times he said no already, and bid a pleasant farewell with a promise to visit again soon.
“Don’t bother coming back”, slowly turned into, “I look forward to it” faster than even he could believe, and it surely didn’t help that the more Spiderpeople joined HQ, the more were there to witness his pathetic wave and gentle hand on your back as he lead you back to the front door.
“You know,” Peter B remarked one day, appearing behind him with a giggling MayDay. Only a few months old and she was already a little ball of energy, squealing and making more noise than Miguel ever wanted to hear at work. “She really seems like a nice woman. You should give her a chance.”
“What would you know?” Miguel growled, spinning on his heel.
“I’m just saying, man. You got this whole miserable brute thing down pretty good, but it wouldn’t hurt to let yourself live a little.”
“I’ve done that already, and look how that turned out!” Peter B stepped back, whether for his own sake to escape Miguel’s wrath, or to protect MayDay he didn’t totally know. Miguel huffed, shaking his head once. “You know my story already. I’ve lived plenty, and we can’t afford any distractions while the Multiverse is falling apart-”
“I’m not saying you should give everything to go on a coffee date,” Peter B interjected, ignoring the glare Miguel sent him. “I’m just saying that you lived a life that wasn’t yours. Why not give this world a chance to make you happy? You know there won’t be any chance of anomaly here.”
“You don’t know that,” he snapped. Despite his annoying tendency to bring his child to work and butt in when he wasn’t needed, Miguel didn’t know if his frustration was from Peter B’s interference in his personal life…or the fact that he desperately wanted him to be right.
“Coffee. You can do that, can’t you?”
“And who will be here if something goes wrong? You?” Miguel huffed in amusement, nearly missing the slight smug twitch in his fellow spider’s smile. Peter B placed a hand on his larger companion's shoulder, willing himself to keep it there despite every nerve in his body twitching to take it away.
“Sure, I can do it, if you want.” Miguel eyed the hand on his shoulder. “You also have LYLA and Jess and even Ben.” They exchanged a single, pointed glance. “Okay, not Ben, but you do have people you can trust to notify you if anything goes wrong. And, besides, it’s not like you have to hide who you really are, unlike the rest of us..”
So, in a rare instance of trust, Miguel approached you and asked you out for coffee.
Well, he really swung by while you were working downtown, scooping you up in his arms and bringing you to the quiet cafe inside HQ, demanding you tell him all about the fundraiser you approached him about last time. And, in a rare instance of admitting Peter B was correct, he didn’t have any regrets, not after your smile lit up your face, pulling out a folder from your bag to show him the plans.
Miguel was…to be honest, there wasn’t any word that could describe him better than odd. After a near year of being treated like every other average citizen to seeing him nearly every day to spending most nights together was a pattern you never expected to happen. Even more, you thought the unusual behavior was just that, unusual, but you had never met someone who could keep you on your toes so much. And, if you were honest with yourself, you loved every minute of it.
Yes, his demeanor would flip at the drop of the hat, but his morals never swayed from the dedicated man you loved. In a day you watched him badger a teenager before demanding they visit the medical ward for their injuries, pulverize a criminal on the street before swooping in to give you a gentle kiss, and throw a table across the room immediately after taking a selfie with his close digital companion. If you didn’t know him any better, you would be concerned for his health with the fluctuation in his mood, but there was something always stopping you from being afraid.
That thing? The simple adoration in his eyes when they met yours.
Being in his arms was always a pleasure, but you could stare into his eyes for hours without break, running your hands through his hair and just drinking in his entire being. Work would pass in a haze until you returned to his arms, and days off were spent walking around the HQ with him, staring longingly at him, and helping out where you could, which primarily meant distracting him when he started to bounce on his toes with impatience.
(Multiple Spiderpeople have caught you two sprawled on the couch in his office, you laying on top, just staring into his eyes and giving him gentle kisses every couple of seconds. It was the reason he now has a crude ‘Do Not Disturb. Idiots in Love’ sign outside his door that LYLA puts up near daily.)
So, when Miguel had to leave suddenly one morning, you thought nothing of it. HQ was needing him at any hour of the day, and being the protector of the multiverse was more than a simple 9-5 job. He planted a heavy kiss on your lips before departing, like he did every time (a silent apology for waking you up), and jumped from the landing outside your window. One glance at the clock, blinding numbers far too early to even comprehend, you rolled over and drunk in the scent he left behind on his warm side of the bed. Not seeing him that night was also not unusual, though you typically for some sort of message from him, just to let you know he was okay. Despite this, you tucked yourself into bed after a long day, ready to see him in the morning.
Then the morning came. By lunch, you still hadn’t heard anything. Dinner came and went. Then, two, three, four days and still not a word from Miguel. Now you were getting worried.
“LYLA?” you called into the watch on your wrist, legs crossed as you sat on your bed. A gift from Miguel if you ever needed something when he wasn't there, but you haven’t really had to use it recently. In fact, it took you over a minute just to clasp it around your wrist and find the button to turn the damn thing on, since it lived in your bedside drawer most days. Why have it on you when you were glued to Miguel’s side anyway?
“Hiya!” Her sudden appearance made you jump, a titling laugh escaping her digital lips. “What can I do for you?”
“Have you seen Miguel? I haven’t heard from him recently.” At this, her eyebrows furled.
“What?”
“Is he on a mission or something?” When she didn’t move, you clenched your fingers nervously. “I know I’m not really supposed to know any details but I figured maybe you could tell me if he’s okay or not. That’s something I’m allowed to know, right?” She continued to stand still like her model was completely frozen. “LYLA?”
“Sorry!” Her entire being glitched, bouncing up and down before swaying like she gave herself an electric shock. “I was just trying to see where Miguel’s watch was to let you know.” She gave you a pleasant smile, but there was something making the corners twitch suspiciously. “He’s currently at the cafe at HQ. I thought he was here with you this whole time.”
“With me? But he left five days ago and hasn’t come back. This is the first time I’ve heard anything.” Her smile turned completely.
“He hasn’t been with you? I thought…your watch is usually here so I didn’t even think to check…” She looked at your earnestly, before glitching again.
“LYLA? Is something wrong?”
“It’s just…he hasn’t let me come into the office recently, so I thought…And he hasn’t really been on duty since we had a minor anomaly warning the other day in the underbelly.” Your confused look turned to alarm. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe he just found … something?”
“But wouldn’t he tell you?” When she didn’t say anything, you jumped up, practically throwing the watch around while you threw your jacket and shoes on.
“Woah, woah, woah! What are you doing?”
“LYLA, he’s acting weird. Weirder than usual. If something’s going on…I need to know.”
“But you shouldn’t go out right now! It’s really late, and you have no one here to-” You smiled gently at her.
“I’ve lived here my whole life. Dedicated myself to it. Don’t worry, LYLA, I’ve walked these streets long before the protection of my Spiderman.” These reassurances didn’t do much to stop her from practically begging you to stay home and wait until the morning. You could hear her telling you she was threatening to send messages to Miguel that you were coming, threatening that she wouldn’t let you in the building so there was no point in going, even going as far as to activate the beeping notification on your watch that sent Miguel your location. You didn’t care. If something was bothering Miguel, you didn’t want him to be dealing with it alone, not after learning all about the near-debilitating, self-destructive depression he went through after losing his daughter.
HQ wasn’t close by any means, and your body was nearly frozen by the time you arrived at the front of it, too worried about Miguel to do anything about your pajamas. The building was burning like the brightest beacon, still managing to catch you in a moment of awe, before you approached the front doors. When you pulled on them, they rattled but didn’t open.
“LYLA?”
“I think you need to go home.” Her serious tone alarmed you.
Raising your arm so you were eye to eye, you stared at her. “What? LYLA, seriously what’s going on?” Her body glitched in and out on your wrist, her eyes flickering between you and the door. “If it was a mission or some Spiderman-related thing you would have just told me, so what’s really going on?”
Her mouth opened and closed, before deciding on, “He’s in there with a woman.” Your eyebrows raised.
“Okay? A woman I know?” LYLA flinched but didn’t say anything. “LYLA, seriously. He’s a grown man, not some hormonal teenage boy. What woman?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“What?” She hesitated, then circled her hand in a motion you didn’t recognize. Beside her holographic body, a screen appeared. Miguel and a woman sat side by side, so close together that her side completely lined up with his. He was holding her hand gently, and her eyes were batting up at him, the HQ cafe’s sign brightly lighting up their faces so you could see their dual smiles. It took a double take to realize that, while you didn’t exactly recognize her, you did recognize her features. Your knees gave out, hitting the ground hard enough to bruise.
LYLA didn’t say anything, taking the photo away from your searching eyes.
“But...but…but…” Your brain couldn’t process it. What was Tempest doing here? You tried a few more times to form words, but your brain and your mouth refused to work together. Finally, they managed to form, “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t want you to know.” Your eyes narrowed, mind stilling.
“You knew?” LYLA’s eyes widened.
“No!” Your skepticism was clear on your face. She winced. “Okay, I knew. But I promise that I didn’t know what was really happening.” You scoffed. “Miguel returned back from the investigation like he had seen a ghost. Then he asked me to replay the footage from the surrounding streets, and that’s when we saw her. He didn’t know that there would be a Tempest here! He left almost immediately after that, and when I saw his signal head towards you, I assumed…”
“But that doesn’t-”
“He brought her back to HQ later that night. He asked me to run scans on her and said he was going to distract her while I ran an analysis. That was it.”
“But it wasn’t, was it?!” Your furious tone made her flinch. Your eyes widened. “This is what you meant, wasn’t it? When you said he found something.”
“The scan came back negative for anomalies. She’s supposed to be here, she belongs in this world.” Your heart stopped.
“You mean…he has a chance…?”
“Any time I tried to get in contact with him that last couple of days, he told me he was off duty and that I should only contact him if there was an emergency. I thought…I was hoping he was spending it with you.” Your body was burning, the cold mixing with the chill that settled deep in your bones. Miguel, who you thought was the love of your life, had found something to bring back Gabriella, a second chance at the life that was cruelly taken from him. The happiness he had that, while he was very happy with you, didn’t stop you from catching him staring longingly at the only photo he had left of his daughter. “He loves you, you have to know that-”
“But why would he?” You ripped the watch off your arm, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “I just…I want him to be happy, more than anything. And I can’t…I can’t give him Gabriella.” LYLA started to protest, but you just shook your head. “Just…take care of him for me, okay?”
“No! Wait!” You placed the watch gently on the floor of the building. She continued to shout, the familiar ding of Miguel’s notification blasting rapidly. “Don’t leave! Please!”
You smile sadly at her, turning on your heel, taking the short walk back to the sidewalk with her voice slowly fading away. Despite your best efforts, tears spilled over, too large to allow you to see beyond your feet as they dragged along the pavement. Hiccuping sobs made your steps stagger, nearly crashing into the hedges that ran along the length of the Spider Society HQ. With a huff, you finally had to sit down, allowing the painful weeps to bubble over. Your heart was breaking into a million pieces, and your hands were shaking too much to catch the pieces.
“Hey! You there! Are you okay?” The voice was faint, barely audible over the whirling thoughts that muted everything around you. A figure crouched down in front of you, but it was still too hard to make out any features. ”Woah! Wait, what are you doing here? Where is Miguel?” The figure’s hands came into view, but they didn’t get close enough to touch you, only just enough to see that they hovered awkwardly in mid-air.
“...Peter?” you said softly after a minute, blinking rapidly enough to barely make his face. You pushed the heels of your hands into your eyes, wiping away as many tears as you could. “What..what are you doing here?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” He finally settled on patting your head, though you could tell it did not come as easy to him as it did when he did the same to his daughter. “Why are you out here?”
“I, um…” You huffed. “I was just leaving.”
“Leaving?” You nodded.
“Yeah. I, uh…,” Think brain! Come on! “...am about to start a new project at work that will take me away for a while so I just wanted to say goodbye to everyone. I didn’t realize how late it was though.” Finally clear-visioned, you made eye contact with the Spider person you had come to know the most, smiling gently at him. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you, though.”
“I’m on patrol tonight since Miguel couldn’t be here.” Your heart panged dangerously hard. “I thought for sure-”
“I’m glad I was able to see you before I left,” you interrupted, pulling yourself to your feet. Peter B just stared in confusion, slowly rising after you. “It’s so last minute, I was just going to send you a message through L-LYLA,” you pushed through the stutter, “but now I can give you a real goodbye.” You hugged him fiercely. Peter B hesitated only a moment before hugging you back.
Your knees almost gave way at the comfort he provided, your arms locking even more. You were going to miss him, dearly. Now that Miguel had found his real love, where would that leave you in the mess that was the Spider Society? There was no reason for you to come back, not when Miguel was the only reason you went in the first place, but there were people in there you had come to care deeply for. Surely they would come out once in a while, maybe you could catch them then? Or maybe you could just walk up to the building like you always did, requesting LYLA to send them down so you guys could get something to eat together? The thought of your new friends made the pit in your stomach grow.
What would you do now? You had been so wrapped up in Miguel the last couple of months that you weren’t even sure what was going on on the day-to-day. Work had been so far from your mind that you had only taken on small projects here and there, leaving the bigger decisions to others so you wouldn’t have to stray so far from HQ. You hadn’t met up with your old friends and coworkers in months, let alone without Miguel at your side. Would they even want you back? How could they, when you had essentially broken their trust in you by picking a man over your friends, your work, your city?
You pushed your head into Peter B’s chest further, allowing yourself just a moment more of his support.
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” His voice broke your swirling thought cycle, jolting you back to reality. You gently let him go, twitching your face into the best smile you could muster.
“I’m fine,” you lied, “just tired from all the preparation. I need to be heading back though.”
“Let me take you.” Before you could protest, he stopped you with a raised hand. “Please.” You smiled again, this time a little more sincere.
“Thank you, Peter.”
After arriving home, you rushed to your laptop, typing the fastest message you could to your coworkers. After a minute, the late crew chimed back, more than happy to have you on board for the underbelly project they were having a hard time finding a leader for. Their enthusiastic, praising messages brought a smile to your face.
This time, you swore, Miguel was going to get his happy ending, and you were going to get yours.
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masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist
#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel x reader#niguel o'hara one shot#laufeyfest#miguel o'hara x you#reader insert#spiderverse imagine#miguel imagine#spiderverse one shot#spiderverset angst#miguel o'hara imagines#miguel ohara fic#miguel ohara imagine#atspv x reader#miguel x you#miguel ohara x you
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Dear Soulmate
Title: Dear Soulmate
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 2.3k
Pairing: Edward Cullen x np!Reader
Summary: Edward has a hard time expressing himself with words, so he turns to music instead.
Authors Note: Day 7!! Told you I would do it!! I had such a hard time writing this because, apperantly, i cannot think of the words that describe the feeling of love that completes you entire being the way Edward thinks about it. I mean...does it work that he can't express himself and neither can i? maybe?
There were many things to love about the vampire life that was bestowed upon Edward. First and foremost, the fear that consumed most of his teenage years was practically nonexistent anymore; it took many years for Carlisle to convince him not to wear his mask anymore when he was around people, and even more to show that Edward wouldn’t ever get sick again, despite every rational part of him denying it. The mindreading was hard to get used to, but it did allow him a unique type of freedom to explore the world without the slow caution that Carlisle and Esme had to. He had more time than he knew what to do with, all the hobbies and dreams he had as a kid suddenly being possible now that sleep wasn’t an issue. He didn’t have to give up as many aspects of his human life as he thought, especially things like his studies or music that reminded him so much of his mother.
His Mother…
With the positives, there was always, naturally, the things that made his life a living hell. The fear of outside forces on him were near eliminated, but going from prey to predator was difficult to handle. Things as simple as handshakes and opening doors became calculated, and the amount of walls and furniture he accidentally destroyed throughout his early years cost Carlisle a fortune to replace. His mindreading nearly broke his mind, especially when they first attempted to move into cities, too many voices swimming through his mind to even hear those speaking aloud. And their thoughts…Carlisle showed him that humanity was worth preserving, worth saving, but there were so many vile people all around, thinking unthinkable things and sometimes going as far as acting on them. He loathes to remember his ‘rebellious phase’, as Esme indeeringly calls it, as, for the first time since turning, he was able to do something about the voices. Even now, as he attributes those murders as the reason he’s able to manipulate his mindreading more like a radio than an onslaught of noise, he shudders at the memory of those final thoughts slowly fading away.
And, time. He vaguely remembered sitting through his lessons as a human as lamenting the time passing so slowly he thought he would die of boredom. The flash of jealously is not uncommon when he thinks of those very human emotions he once had. The possibility of infinity is beyond what he ever could imagine, and the understanding he would remember every single detail of it drove him mad. Those human memories, those would cease to exist in only a few more years as they faded away, but his vampire memories would never go. And he would never stop making memories, or have things like sleep or becoming comatose as a buffer to slow the onslaught. He was desperate for the first year, writing every memory he could of his human life, especially those of his Mother, who, now, was no more than her favorite Edwardian dress and a silhouette. As he reread his journal over and over, the story became more and more like a novel he plucked from a library shelf, lost in time for a person he didn’t even recognize. He couldn’t attend school or play music, no matter how much he loved it, because the feeling that something or someone was missing ate him alive.
If Esme and Carlisle hadn’t been there to help him through these impossible feelings, he feared he never would have made it out the other side.
He could see how hard it was on his new parents to watch their son suffer at the hands of fate. Carlisle’s forgiveness when he returned burned through his nonbeating heart, and Esme’s relentless kindness balled guilt low in his gut. And, worst of all, he wanted to express his love for them, his thankfulness at their patience with him, but as eloquent as he was, there were never the right words to do it. Edward knew they knew his appreciativeness, but he always wished he could express it beyond his devotion to them.
The first time he sat at the piano after his mind accepted his new life, Edward nearly convulsed at the pure adoration in Esme’s thoughts. His fingers were clumsy, not quite used to the power and dexterity that vampirism brought to every part of his being, but the song was his Mother’s favorite, and his muscle memory was stronger than his recollective memory of her face. Too fast, then too slow, but Esme’s thoughts never faltered from their awe at the notes twinkling from within the wooden piano. Her thoughts made him smile so wide his cheeks ached. They ended up sitting together in the lounge for three days, Edward playing every song he could think of, Esme watching his every move and thinking of only her love of music and her new family. Carlisle liked to joked sometimes that, had he not finally returned home after a long weekend away, the two of them would have remained sitting in the lounge until the building collapsed around them. Though they hadn’t done another musical marathon since, Esme never failed to appear in the room when Edward played, her soothing thoughts weaving in time with the notes.
Then, that Christmas, Edward gifted Esme her very own song. If she could have wept, Edward had no doubt that she would have, instead pulling him into a hug so tight he was worried he would crack apart at the seams. She insisted he played it for her, and he did, everytime she even thought about it.
From that Christmas on, Edward turned his unspeakable feelings into music. Everyone in his life had their own music journal, filled with notes and keys and rhythms that conveyed every feeling that Edward had ever felt. Esme’s journal was filled with the slow melodies of love, Carlisle’s contained the rhythmic beat of loyalty, and as more people joined their family, so too did their journals get filled with every song he created. Rosalie scoffed at the way her songs commanded attention, though her thoughts always betrayed her pride in being someone’s muse, and Emmett’s randy tunes always made him laugh. When Alice and Jasper joined them, Edward began to experiment in a collection of genre’s to convey Alice’s changing visions, and Jasper’s fluid tangle of emotions. Edward and Jasper grew exceptionally close then, Jasper finally having someone who could relate to his complex understanding of being, constantly assaulted by other’s emotions and not always knowing which were his true feelings, and finally having a way to express that to others in ways words failed him.
Then, there were the secret journals that were for his eyes only. Esme knew, of course, Edward trusted her with every part of his being, but he never dared show the vulnerability within those pages. He composed pieces for every deep feeling he had - resentment, fear, hope, envy, rage, happiness - just to be able to get rid of the knot of emotion that tangled itself inside him. His family was too close, to all knowing, to really keep private things truely private, but he appreciated the effort anyway. Jasper would always be able to tell what emotion he was using while composing, as Alice had the ability to see which piece Edward would start next. Carlisle had a look that, even without reading his mind, Edward knew meant that he knew exactly what each song was. Rose, even, afforded him some privacy, pulling Emmett out the door with her to go shopping when his verses would become too filled with emotion. He allowed her a couple snide remarks about it here and there as a thank you.
The most embarrassing of the collection, though, was the small black embossed one Esme had gifted him many years ago. It was a souvenir from their trip to Paris for one of their many honeymoons, the first time they left Edward alone to fend for himself. The cover was intricately detailed with the Lovers of Peynet, a story of love and peace that Esme fell in love with immediately. It was only fitting, then, that Edward used that journal to write his own complicated feelings of love. He was, after all, surrounded by it all the time.
Esme and Carlisle were so perfect for each other that Edward could never fathom the fact that both had relationships before. Esme’s compassion matched Carlisle’s perfectly, and Carlisle’s thoughts were only ever burning passion for his wife. Alice and Jasper moved with one another like no one else he had seen, adapting without needing to speak to always be there for one another. Jasper never seemed to need his empathy to be attuned to Alice, and Alice, in turn, worked patiently everyday to help Jasper untangle the twisted life he led before meeting her. Even Rose and Emmett worked! Emmett’s unwavering devotion and love for his Rose was unlike anything Edward had seen, rivaling those fake ties he witness between the Volturi in Carlisle’s memories. Rose, as standoffish as she seemed, cared for Emmett so deeply that they didn’t even have to be true mates to love as fiercely as the others. Choice, Destiny, Edward wanted any of it, to hold someone like Carlisle and Esme, to love like Rose and Emmett, to be understood like Alice and Jasper.
The pages of his book were filled endlessly with the different versions of love he both dreamed and attempted, but nothing ever came close to the feeling he got when he watched his family with their true loves. He always left them when the feeling got too much, bolting out the door as soon as Jasper was able to make the connection. In those instances, the only thing he would leave with was the clothes on his back, and the black embossed notebook in his hand.
The pieces, just as his thoughts, were complicated and unfinished. He tried more times than he could count to figure out the notes that most encapsulated his feelings, but it would always come up short. Melodies would stop midway, notes scattered like a puzzle waiting to be put together. More than a few times the notebook would end up thrown across the room, something Edward perfected in order to release some frustration in a human way.
There was only one song finished in the entire book. The pages were flicked through so frequently that they were warped along the spine, and the ink rewritten so many times the pages were on the edge of ripping right through. Edward revisited this song whenever his thoughts became too repetitive, pretending they were written by someone else just to have something to relate to besides himself. There were no wishes written in the lines, only wonder, hope, at the thought of a mate, a soulmate, really existing out there for him. A vampire, a human, something else? Female, male, neither? What would they look like? How would they react to his mindreading? Who were they?
Edward had only played the song outloud a handful of times. The first was an accident. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he didn’t realize Esme had come into the room, watching him intently as he wiggled his fingers over the keys in order to play without making a sound. Her abrupt thoughts of curiosity allowed him just enough courage to gently play the piece for her. A passing thought of longing was all Esme had to do for Edward to stop abruptly, jumping from the bench and racing out the room without a word. After that, she didn’t ever push him to play it again, even going as far as chastising herself in her own thoughts when the thought crossed her mind. Edward smiled gratefully at her whenever it happened. The next time they had the house to themselves, Esme was privy to the song in it’s entirety, the melody soft and sweet. Her chin wobbled, and her eyes grew large, the signs Edward had come to associate with Esme crying without being able to. When it was just the two of them, she would often ask for him to play it for her again, and Edward loved her too much to deny her request.
After playing it for everyone but the person it was about, he found it strange, completely unbelievable, that he was now able to play it for the very person he wrote it for. You were sat beside him, awe in your face as his fingers tapped the keys to reveal the melancholic song. You were pressed so closely to him, the lines of your body curving into his. As his arm reached across you body to play the keys on your other side, you absentmindely rested your hand on it, reminding him of the times he took pretty girls for walks in the park during his human years. If he still had a working heart, he knew it would be beating out of his chest, but he didn’t need a heart to feel the sweet of adoration deep inside him whenever he looked at you.
Even as the original song ended, his fingers continued as if reading from his black book, melodies mixing and unfinished songs melding together to try and show you just a smidge of the emotion swirling inside him. His very own notebook brought to completion as you sat there, switching between watching the way his hand glided elegantly across the keys and his face, which hadn’t taken a moments break from yours. He effortlessly leaned down everytime your eyes met, pressing his lips to yours, stealing your breath from your lungs, and replacing it with the melody of his love.
A new song was already writing itself out in his mind; a rhythm based entirely around the way you looked at him, eyes wide and lips pouted, and the gratitude to whatever force brought you into his complicated existence. Yes, that would have to do for now. Just until, Edward decided, he could find some other way to express the irrationally wonderful love he had for you.
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masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist
#laufeyfest#someonexsomeone#edward cullen imagine#twilight imagine#twilight one shot#edward cullen x reader#edward cullen one shot#edward x reader#edward cullen imagines#twilight imagines
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Just Like Chet
Title: Just Like Chet
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 3.9k
Pairing: John Price x np!Reader
Summary: When you finally get some time off work, anything could happen...including falling head over heels for a man you just met!
Authors Note: Day 9!! So...sorry for this one guys, but things were looking a bit too happy around here. Some real life stuff in this one yikes but I am just a sucker for John Price and how absolutely yummy he is, so hopefully this fits well with this character? Just like all my stuff, as soon as I finish I publish it, so I would love to hear your thoughts on this one!
When you get to a certain age, you start to realize that life becomes just the same constant dreg until death. School at least provided structure, the promise of a place to be for most of the year with the excitement of escaping those walls for 3 whole months to bask in the sun with your friends. Once school gave you the boot, because only a handful of people ever stay for the rest of their lives, work is the next closest thing. And work? It does not give a single damn if you’ve been there for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week like you had been doing your whole life. A vacation? Good luck getting even a moment's rest, even if you requested the time off months in advance and worked above your pay grade for most of that. Even if you were dead tired on your feet, and on the verge of a mental break. Even then, and so much worse than that.
You liked to believe you were a hard worker. Tried to help out where people needed you, completed your work on time, and participated in every lame attempt the company made at bonding coworkers. You had some vacation here and there, but it was extremely rare for you to be granted more than a long weekend here and there.
This is why it was practically a miracle you were sitting on the flight, let alone getting to turn your phone off without fear of a bombardment of calls. Your work, for lack of better words, was getting heavily investigated by some external company, your status at the company meant you were privy to only the bare minimum, which meant a complete shutdown of all productivity until the investigation was over. Projected for an entire week, no one was allowed to access their accounts, their emails, or their reports, lest something was corrupted or changed while being investigated. And, since it was the company under investigation and not any particular low-paid employee, the company was giving PTO for everyone the entire week. You could barely believe it.
Your friends completely jumped at the chance for a vacation, finally something longer than a few days close to home. No, this was a trip to go all out while you could. Corny Hawaiian shirts were a must, matched with warm weather and open-toed shoes were the only thing on their minds as they sent the flight information for you to join them on a week-long trip to Mexico, some small town that was designed specifically for tourists looking to relax by the beach with a coconut in hand and a bustling nightlife. And, with one of your friends working with you at the company, there was hardly a time when everyone would get to be together. It took some convincing on their part, but you couldn’t seem to regret it in the slightest as your nerves built the higher the plane climbed in the sky, practically bouncing in your seat through to landing. Did you look a little crazy? Yeah. But, the goofy grins you shared with your friends made any embarrassment fly out the window. This was your vacation, dammit, and you were going to enjoy it to the fullest.
Landing was a breeze, and getting to the hotel was even easier, what with the endless line of taxis waiting outside for any customer walking their way. The hotel was used only for a drop-off of sorts, and you were down at the beach before you knew it, slathering sunscreen on in hopes to combat the burning sun rays that warmed you to your very core. Even as your skin started to get the hints of sunburn didn’t stop the absolute bliss you were feeling.
Despite being thoroughly exhausted from a day of lounging by the crashing waves, your friends insisted on dragging you out to a nearby club after dinner.
“I’m tired,” you whined jokingly, flopping down on your bed. The others were tossing your clothes left and right, trying to pick out the best outfit to match the rest of them with your mix-match styles.
“You’ll have one specialty cocktail and completely change your tune,” one of them teased, pinching your thigh. The others laughed at your yelp. Why did they have to know you so well?
The music was thumping through your veins, and the alcohol blasting through your chest. Or, wait, was it the other way around? Either way, something commanded your hips and arms to swing the way they were, without an absolute care in the world. Your empty glass was getting swung along, sometimes acting as a microphone, and sometimes being used as a shield to ignore the several people who tried to come up and talk to you. Too many words to think clearly, and alcohol was a much more tolerable than any person who couldn’t take your blabbing as a clear indicator you were too drunk to care about them. After the third attempt to take a sip of your drink, one you swore you had just a second ago in that empty glass, you excused yourself from the man stuttering in front of you. You smiled politely, gestured to your drink, and disappeared into the crowd.
Across the room, you could barely make out one of your friends getting rather handsy with someone, the room too dark to tell if it was one of your other friends or not, and passed another on your way to the bar, sharing smiles. Once you threw yourself against the bar, because, let's be honest, you were never that coordinated with the amount of alcohol you had in your system, you spotted your last friend getting chatty with a group of handsome men. They were huge, much larger than your average gangle of testosterone, all dressed in tight-fitting shirts and cargo pants. Two of them were splitting your friend's attention, one with a goofy smile and another with a small mohawk, while the other two were positioned on either side, seemingly surveying the very drunk crowd around them. You could barely look at the one in the surgical mask, his eyes too piercing to look at for more than a glance, but the other looked…softer, a little more approachable. He stood, as opposed to the others all sitting at the bar, a glass of something amber in his hand, his stance seemingly relaxed, but you could tell by the way his eyes drifted over the crowd he was ready to pounce at any second. The way his arms were crossed made his arms seem just a little bigger, and honestly, if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through you, you would have blushed at the sudden desire to bury your face into his chest. His beard was neatly trimmed, his hair just as put together, and there was shine of something around his neck. Military, maybe? You vaguely recalled flying over what looked like a military camp on your way here, so maybe this town worked well as a getaway for them too?
A loud laugh from your friend made you jump, eyes tearing away from the handsome man. They looked like they were having fun, playfully hitting one of the men on the shoulders, before dipping down and taking another sip of their multicolored drink. In that moment, they glanced up, catching your eye across the sea of the bar. They let out a call, too far away but you knew it was your name, and they waved frantically to get you to join them. You hesitated, just a moment too long because that scary masked man was looking at you now and it set you on edge, before making your way over.
“Barkeep! Another one of these for my friend,” they cried as you approached, pointing at the slushy drink in front of them. “Guys! This is my friend, the one I was telling you about that works with me! This is Johnny and Kyle!” Your friend swayed gently, the one they called Johnny rested a hand on their waist to steady them, pulling you close until their month was practically in your ear. “Aren’t they so hot?!” Even you could tell that the attempt at a whisper was a complete failure. Though, based on the matching smile the men had, they didn’t seem to mind. “Don’t worry. I saved the hot mature one for you.”
A drink was shoved into your hand as they pushed you, your back colliding with the man you were practically drooling over earlier. They gave you a wink, before turning their attention back to their two companions.
“Woah, there.” Oh, no. That voice would surely make your knees collapse from under you at this rate. “Steady.”
“Sorry,” you managed to squeak, righting yourself too quickly that you tripped over your own tangle of limbs. The man still had a firm grasp on your arm, pulling you to fall into him once again rather than tumble to the floor. Your face was burning.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I think I’ve had more than I usually do.” He chuckled. Oh no.
“It’s a club. You’re supposed to get a little drunk.” At this, you smiled.
“I don’t know if I could quality as ‘a little’ anymore, but thanks anyway.” He guided you to the chair he had previously been standing behind, slotting himself so he was completely facing you. You tried to make sure your eyes were firmly on his face and not where they so obviously wanted to ogle at the way his arm looked as it propped him up. Simultaneously, your brain was completely short-circuiting as he leaned closer, practically making out with your personal bubble, in order to hear you over the thumping music. Don’t kiss him, don’t kiss him, don’t-
“First time?”
“In a while,” you admitted. “I don’t get out much.”
“Work?” You hummed. “I know that feeling. Your friend said you worked together. Same thing, or different department?”
John, as you found out later, was easy to talk to. A little too easy, if you were being completely honest, though you did chalk a lot of that up to the alcoholic slushy you nursed the rest of the night. He was fun, in that goofy dad energy sort of way, making you laugh a little harder than you wanted to admit. He was extremely attentive too, repeating himself when your face displayed the disconnect between your brain and your ear, smiling all the while. You were sure you were annoying him with your non-stop babbling, but he genuinely seemed like he wanted to listen to what you said. He even leaned into your touch when the alcohol got the better of you, laughing when you caught yourself running a finger up and down his arm or when you leaned closer to not so discreetly take a sniff of his cologne.
And, if your night ended up with you in bed together, him pulling sounds out of you that you had only thought possible in raunchy movies, then who were you to complain?
Despite your trip taking an unexpected turn, your friends were more than a little loud in support of the additional person that joined you nearly every day of your remaining trip. John easily won over your friends, his soft smile and kind personality were hard to dislike, meshing so well that them joining you two for breakfast that first morning after was hardly awkward. He joined practically every meal you had, discreetly running his hand over your thigh or bringing your hand up for a gentle kiss, accompanying you on long walks on the beach and even longer nights in your bedroom. John just made you so comfortable, with both yourself and him, that you felt like you had known him for months rather than days. Those early mornings, just laying naked next to each other, voices soft as daylight broke the horizon, made all the stress of your everyday life drift away. Was it crazy to think you were in love with him? Absolutely. But it didn’t stop the neverending trail that led you to think about the possibility of letting yourself love him, about the possibility of this week becoming every week with John by your side. It made you absolutely giddy in a way you never had before.
The week was even more blissful than you could have imagined, beating out every other vacation you'd ever had by a mile. The thought that this trip was almost over made tears well up in your eyes, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t stay in touch, right? John told you he wasn’t stationed in Mexico, just visiting for something work-related (top secret he had whispered with a smile and a kiss), so maybe he could be stationed closer to you? Or, you felt it crazy to admit, maybe…you could move a little closer to him? You shook your head immediately at the thought. You had known him for a week, a week, but there was something about John Price that made you want to think irrational thoughts if it meant you got to keep him.
On the last night of your trip, your friends pulled you along to a nice restaurant, the best one in the surrounding area of the hotel, and gorged on the best food of the trip, drinks, of course, in hand. They teased you endlessly about your John, one of your friends going as far as teasing that maybe John could get them in contact with the other hotties on his team. Johnny and Kyle had ghosted your friend pretty hardcore after that night, but they didn’t seem off-put by it, instead turning that night into a challenge of sorts to sleep with as many people as possible before going home.
“Two out of five of us hooking up with guys from that unit has to be impressive right?” One of them joked, laughing goodnaturedly as you swatted at them. “Let’s make it five out of five!”
“As long as John is off the table,” you smiled, “you lot are hot enough to bag them without my help.” They cheered, clinking glasses together before ordering another round.
You promised John you would meet him at your hotel room when your dinner was over, wanting to spend a little more time with him before your early flight the next morning. With a hundred promises to see them in the morning and promising not to run off with John in the middle of the night, you left the girls at the front of the restaurant, heading back to the hotel as they headed back to the bar for one last hurrah. A little drunk, but the confidence it gave you made you practically skip back to the hotel, giddy with the prospect of getting John all to yourself for the rest of the night. Besides, if you didn’t get any sleep tonight, that’s what the plane ride was for.
Just at the entrance of the hotel, you stopped dead, quickly ducking behind the nearest wall. Your John was talking quietly with that masked man you saw on the first night. He looked a little different, beanie pulled low on his head to accompany the mask, but you recognized him by the hunch in his shoulder alone. Besides, who else would wear a mask in this heat?
“...isn’t a part of the plan,” you managed to catch the masked man say, “...compromised…could find out…vulnerable to the mission…”
Compromised? Find out? You had a horrible feeling, like a rock sinking in your stomach.
“They don’t know anything…” John said, anger on his face. His voice was a little louder, rough and clear in a way that sent shivers down your spine.
“...don’t know…already got the information…” John said something in response, too low for you to make out, but it made the masked man tense. “...leave soon…Cut off contact then and be done with it. They don’t mean anything to you anyway.”
“That’s no way to speak to your superior, Lieutenant.”
“This is why…leave Johnny…seduce…” His voice was so low you could barely hear him, and you had a feeling that whatever was said was more to himself than anyone else. You gulped, tears on the verge of spilling. “I want to trust you, Captain, but you’re too close to this.”
There was a part of you, a naively desperate part, that wanted John to continue to use that voice, deny to this masked man that you weren’t the target of whatever information they needed so John would still be able to see you past this trip. Your heart sunk as John signed, rubbing his hand up and down his face once, before meeting eyes with the masked man again.
“You’re right. I’ll handle this tonight.” They looked at each other for a long moment, before the masked man nodded once, turning on his heel. You quickly ducked behind the wall, hiding in the shadows as the man walked past you with only the smallest falter in his step. When he disappeared at the next turn, you stepped out from the alleyway. John was gone as well, no doubt heading up to your hotel room to break your heart or keep his promise to spend the night with you.
It was like your feet couldn’t decide what to do, too uncertain to head towards the hotel but also too cowardly to run away. You wanted to see him, pathetically so, but was that desire enough to override the betrayal you felt deep in your bones?
You scoffed to yourself. Who were you kidding? John had only known you for a week, what other reason would there be for him to approach you as hard as he did other than to get intel? You felt like a fool. No wonder he asked about your work so much, about the investigation that brought you on this trip, and the connection your friend had to the company! At the time it just felt like he was trying to make small talk, the easy questions you ask in the beginning of a relationship, but those happy memories were tainted now with the knowledge he was just using you for information. All those nights together, the hours you spent talking, the things he told you; were any of those real? You hiccuped a sob, pushing your hand against your mouth to silence the sound, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling. You felt dirty, hurt, used.
By the time you reached your hotel room, your face was dry, a little makeup reapplied to hide the puffiness, and your mind a little clearer. You took a second longer to compose yourself before pushing open the door, the smile that used to come so easily to your face when you saw John only a little difficult to recreate from memory. John looked up from his book, stretched out on the bed in a way that used to make your stomach flip in happiness. That flip was still there, but even he could see the flash of bitterness.
“Darling?” You shivered at the nickname. “You alright?”
There were a million things you wanted to say to him. Yell, scream, throw things, and demand answers. Sob uncontrollably and ask if any of it was the truth. Leave and never look back.
“I’m just gonna miss you. So much.” The words were as shocking to you as they were to him if his face was any indication. He was up in the next moment, wrapping his arms tightly around you.
“Oh, my dear…” he whispered against your head. You shook lightly in his arms, betrayed by both him and the words you spoke into existence. It didn’t go unnoticed by either of you that he offered no other verbal comfort. What would he even say? That he would keep in touch? He would move the earth to stay with you? That this week had been the best that either of you had ever had and the thought of it being over was breaking something deep inside? No, as much as those promises wanted to be real, there was too much to consider to say something that definite. Instead, John pulled away gently, kissing you with everything he had.
He loved you slow that night. It was everything you had dreamed about, the exact way you had told your friends you wished the night would go. For those hours, you forgot about your pain, just for a little while, to completely enjoy the little slice of love John Price allowed himself to give you. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, held you like a precious thing, like his precious thing. As much as you knew you should, as much as you knew your friends would be pissed at the situation, you didn’t even have the heart to be upset at him when he looked at you with that unspoken regret. You just kissed each of his cheeks gently, running your fingers over the creases in his face to smooth them away and allow yourself to give him some comfort. His loving gaze, the one that didn’t falter at any position, brought tears to your eyes. That night, you allowed yourself to be just a little greedy, and you could tell he allowed himself the same. A silent goodbye, even if neither of you wanted it.
When the sun rose the next morning, it was like the final notes of an epic symphony, a gentle fade from the swell of instruments, all culminating in these final moments before silence. You woke, as much as you wanted to sleep through his departure, keeping your eyes closed as you tracked his movement through the room. In all honesty, you were surprised he was still there. Surely it would have been easier for both of you if he slipped out in the middle of the night, taking everything that reminded you of him and disappearing without a trace, never to be heard from again. But, there was something odd in the way he moved. It was like he paused after every task, taking the few steps it took to make his way back to your side, running a hand over your sleeping face before grabbing something else, and repeating the cycle. After the first few times, you dared to lean into his touch, which earned you a kiss on the head. The tears were gathering again, despite your refusal to allow them to fall. When the last of his stuff was gathered from every nook and cranny, he approached your side one final time.
He reached out, running a hand over your face like he had been. You followed by leaning into his touch, as you had been. But when his hand continued to move, using your chin to guide your lips to his, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling, or the desperate movement of your lips as you bid him farewell. There really was a language all of its own in a kiss, you had found out in that kiss, and John’s was an essay of an apology, pushing against yours until both of you were out of breath, trying to get you to understand something he couldn’t say out loud.
John ran his hand over your face one last time, kissed your head, then disappeared from your life, leaving only silence in his wake.
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masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist
#someonexsomeone#laufeyfest#cod imagine#cod one shot#cod mw imagine#john price x reader#john price x you#john price imagine#john price one shot#modern warfare imagine#call of duty imagine#call of duty one shot
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From the Start
Title: From the Start
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 2.7k
Pairing: Mark Lee x nb!Reader
Summary: It's so hard to love your childhood friend, especially when he's a big ol' idiot.
Authors Note: Day 10!! So...you may have noticed I missed the release. I'm actually so sad about it, but there was so big changes in my life recently that had priority over this unfortunately. I still want to complete it though, for my own sake as well as the promise that I would, so here it is! Only one more left to go!
If there is one thing you can always count on, it’s your best friend Mark. He’s the type of person who would willingly make a fool of himself to make others happy, who would give you his jacket even when he’s cold himself, who would gently pat your hair when you’re having a bad day because there was nothing he could say that would make it better so he makes sure you know he’s there for you without words. He’s a dork at the best of times, and a doofus in the worst, making fun of you without knowing but always ready to apologize when he realizes. He’s gentle and kind, stupid and naive, and the best friend you’ve ever had. The longest, if you’re keeping track, not really knowing a world without Mark in it.
So, naturally, with all his good qualities, you’re head over heels in love with him. And, naturally, since he’s so consistent, he’s too much of an idiot to realize.
You kind of thought it was obvious. I mean, all his friends seem to know it, though they are smart enough to only tease you when he’s not around, and even your parents have a sneaking suspicion that your journal holds a lot more hearts than you’re letting on. Your teachers, whether they do it because they know you like him or because you’re friends, always let you pair off, even going as far as just handing off assignments without a word to one of you when the other is out sick. Attached at the hip, the cause of many failed jealous relationships, your friendship with Mark is something you’d overcome any hardship to keep close. And, sure, should you be getting sick of his constant dismissal of other people’s jabs at your friendship being more? Should you feel dread in your chest, the unspoken rejection that weighs on your heart? To be honest, you hardly notice it, because as soon as it starts to get a little unbearable, Mark just has to flash you a smile, a special secret smile that softens his whole face and relaxes his shoulders, and your heart jolts alive all over again. It should be unfair, the way he’s able to elicit this love-at-first-sight feeling just by looking at you, but that’s Mark for you. An angel in disguise.
Even when he gets into relationships (because, let’s be honest, Mark is such a catch it would be weird if he’d never been in one before) there’s never an ounce of doubt in your friendship despite the new addition. Jaemin jokes that all potential significant others have to pass a test in order for Mark to ask them out, one that involves them trying to get close to you in order to garner his approval, the very same one that has Mark shyly asking your opinion on them seemingly the day before you either see Mark asking them out or start to ignore them. You blush, always with his teasing, but Jaemin’s words seem to have some truth to them because anyone you have a neutral or negative opinion of disappears from Mark’s side almost immediately after. And, from the goodness of your heart (damn you, heart), you always give him your honest and true feelings, even when you know this means Mark will start dating. Haechan can’t believe you, it’s honestly the thing you two fight about the most, and always yells at you the next day for not telling Mark your feelings.
“He eats out of the palm of your hand and you lead him right to someone else!” he yells, crossing his arms with a glare on his face before grabbing you, hugging you close, and taking you out to ice cream despite your protests. Honestly, you want Mark to be happier than anything, even if it means him being with someone else. Haechan, for all of his loud complaints, never says anything as you cry into your bowl, sniffles hidden behind bites of your frozen consolation prize. His glare is fierce, but his hand is gentle as it strokes your hair. “Honestly. What are we going to do with you?”
Mark, at least, has never made you feel excluded or unwanted when he does have a relationship. He’s sweet, inviting you along before blushing bright red when you point out that he could use that outing opportunity for a date with his new significant other instead of a hang out with you tagging along. The common occurrence means he always tries to make it up to you, despite never having plans in the first place, but if it means more time with Mark you jump at the chance. His friends make up for his absence a lot, pulling you along even when you insist you’re fine, which inevitably means that Mark having a partner often coincides with times your close-knit group of friends is closer than ever. You didn’t even realize it yourself until Chenle pointed it out.
“What are you talking about?” you questioned one day over a game of Monopoly. Somehow you were roped in, once again, to join the boys to hang out in Jeno’s basement while Mark went on a date with his newest girlfriend, a boring but otherwise sweet girl named Miyeong. You were sort of blindsided by this newest partner as you had never seen Mark look in her direction, let alone talk to her in order to develop feelings. While he was out, Chenle coerced you into the game, batting his big eyes in a way you could never say no to. You should have realized you were a sucker when Jaemin was the only other person to say yes, the other boys tearing through packages of snacks and watching some random movie. So far, Chenle had over half of the board bought out, and Jaemin was about 2 dollars away from bankruptcy.
“You’ve never noticed it?” At your confused face, he scoffed. “Come on. There’s no way.”
“They didn’t even notice Mark wouldn’t date someone until he got their approval. How could you possibly think-” Jaemin cut himself off, squawking when he realized he just landed on Go To Jail.
“That was karma,” you snickered, dodging the flying money and Jaemin threw his arms in the air in defeat. “Besides, if Mark didn’t like them, why would he even go out with them?”
“So that he has an excuse to hang out with you more.”
“Chenle. What on earth are you talking about? Mark and I literally hang out all the time?”
“Yeah, but that’s for homework and stuff!” You scoff, moving your piece and narrowly avoiding Chenle’s housed yellow space. As you pick of 10 dollars for winning the lottery, Chenle stares at you intensely. “You really don’t know?”
“No, I really don’t know.”
“Yeah, enlighten the room!” Jeno calls from his spot on the couch. The others have all stopped what they're doing in order to look at you two.
“Really? No one else noticed?”
“Chenle, I don’t think this is a good idea-” Jisung starts before his best friend cuts him off.
“You never made the connection between his dates and your dates?” You blush but otherwise shake your head. Chenle looks at you like you’re stupid, which honestly, sort of feels like it with the way he’s stating things like they were so obvious. “When you and Mark hang out, what do you normally do?”
“I guess it depends.”
“But, on average, would you say you go over to his or he comes over to yours and you guys do homework?”
“Sometimes, I guess. We watch movies when we don't.”
“Wait, but didn’t you just go to that art installation last weekend?” Jaemin asks, the game all but abandoned.
“Well…yeah. He said he saw a poster for it and wanted to go.”
“But he didn’t invite his literal girlfriend who he was hanging out with at the time?”
“What? He was hanging out with his girlfriend?” Chenle sighs, slapping his forehead.
“Yes, idiot. Mark was on a date and saw a poster for something to do and wanted to go with you.” You pause, but otherwise don’t make the connection. “Okay…what about the Fair?”
“What about it?”
“Mark took you to a Fair, a decidedly romantic and very obvious date spot, instead of his friends or even his girlfriend. And! He waited until the end of the summer to take you instead of the beginning.”
“But he knew I wanted to go but hadn’t been able to,” you defended.
“But why didn’t he go? Why didn’t he go twice? It wasn’t like there was anything stopping him from doing it.” You sighed, pinching your eyes.
“Chenle, can you just get to the point?” Chenle looked at you in disbelief, looking around the room to get some backup but was only met with a bunch of confused faces.
“Are you guys serious? Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“Not all of us are creepily perspective,” Jeno quipped, which earned him a glare.
“Mark wants to take you on dates but doesn’t know how to do it without an excuse, or because he’s extremely stupid, and the one he’s obviously decided on is ‘making it up to you’ when he has to hang out with his significant other.”
You couldn’t help it. You laugh, and honest to goodness laugh that shakes your whole body and makes tears spring to the corner of your eyes. You laugh shrill enough that it echoes in the room, the only sound in the room, really, because Chenle has managed to stun the rest of the people in it. So you laugh, loudly in disbelief, because if you didn’t you’d be worried about the possibility, no matter how small, that Chenle might be right. And that’s just too much to process, especially since the only reason you’re hanging out with them now and are able to have this conversation is because Mark is on a very real date with his very real girlfriend. Mark dating only so he could ask you out? What kind of stupid logic is that?
“I’m serious!” Chenle yells after a minute, crossing his arms, and if he was standing, you had no doubt he would be stomping his foot like a child.
“Chenle, be serious. How could you have possibly made that connection?”
“He has a point,” Renjun muses, stopping your laughter instantly. There’s something about the way he stares off that has you on edge.
“What? Renjun, come on, not you too.”
“No, I think I agree with him,” Haechan pipes up. At your disbelief, he continues, “I mean, think about it. Aren’t you hanging out with him tomorrow?”
“Well,,,yeah? It’s a Saturday?”
“And he’s taking you to the new exhibit at the aquarium.” Before you could protest, he continued, “Do you even know what he’s doing right now with his girlfriend? They’re taking a walk around the park.”
“A walk in the park is very romantic.”
“At 5 o'clock on a Friday? Yeah, if you’re going to dinner after, but Mark is coming here soon so we can watch the newest episode of A2K. There’s no way that’s enough time for a romantic dinner, let alone a casual date at a cafe.”
“What, so Mark’s just a bad boyfriend?”
“No! Well, yes.” Haechan sighs, getting up in order to crouch in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I think Chenle has a point. Mark is an idiot, in that we can all agree, but there’s an obvious difference in how he treats you when he has a partner and when he’s single.”
“So, what?” You stand, torn between being furious and being embarrassed, nearly knocking Haechan onto his ass. At the moment, you didn’t know which was directed where, but either way it made your face burn and your hands sweat profusely. “He’s just been taking me on dates when he has a partner because..what? Does he want to date me? Don’t be ridiculous! If he wanted to date me, why wouldn’t he just ask instead of going out with someone else?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship?” Jaemin offers.
“And instead everyone thinking he’s a cheater is better?” You can’t help your voice raising. There was no way, absolutely no way, your friends were sitting in front of you telling you the person you had been in love with since you held hands in Kindergarten returned your feelings.
“You know Mark better than any of us,” Jaemin rose at his words, taking your hand gently in order to get you to look at him. “You know his heart is good, but his actions don’t always make sense. Especially when it comes to his own feelings. Don’t you remember how he wanted to impress Sasha Kim in Middle School and ended up giving her a black eye? It’s like his logic flies out the window.”
“But what if you’re wrong?” You couldn’t help the small tremor in your voice. It was so quiet you could hear the shakiness of your breath as you exhaled, mimicking the way your hand was trembling. Jaemin held your hand tighter, pulling you slowly closer to try and comfort you. “It could ruin everything, and what I have with Mark is special. I can’t accept-”
You nearly jumped out of your skin at the loud noise across the room. Everyone whipped their head around, comical if it was any other situation, horror on their faces as they made eye contact with a very red-faced Mark. At his feet, the pile of precariously stacked magazines now collapsed, knocking along with it the bucket of Jeno’s Grandmother’s gardening tools. You paled instantly, pulling your hand away from Jaemin’s to cover your mouth. Mark? Here?
“Oops,” Mark said sheepishly, quickly leaning down to gather the mess he somehow made in a matter of seconds. Minutes? Your dread only grew with the realization that Mark very well could have been there this whole time and heard everything. No one dared speak as Mark picked everything up. Once he finished, Mark ran his hands through his hair, an embarrassed smile on his face. “Well, hopefully, that was embarrassing enough to distract from their rejection, eh, Jaemin?”
You didn’t dare look at anyone’s face before you snatched your bag from the floor, walking as fast as you could while dodging the various hands that tried to stop your escape. You couldn’t even look Mark in the eyes as he whispered your name as you dashed past him, too embarrassed to give in like you normally would at that soft voice of his. Jaemin called your name too, followed by Haechan, then the rest of the boys, but it was too late. The upstairs door was already slamming shut, cutting off their voices, and hiding your figure as it disappeared down the street.
Your phone was blowing up with texts by the time you got home. Jaemin was worried, Haechan was cursing, Jisung was apologizing, Chenle was laughing, Jeno was confused, and Renjun, above all, was asking how you were doing. You sent him a reply, but were too embarrassed to respond to the rest, flopping down on your bed in the most dramatic way possible, already dreading the message you would have to craft to get out of hanging out with Mark tomorrow.
How could you face him with the thoughts that were swirling through your head? If Chenle was right, and that was a big if, there were way too many questions you couldn’t live without knowing. Why would Mark act like that? How could he have a significant other when he wanted to date you? Did he know about your feelings? That question made your face burn.
If Mark did feel anything for you, how could he act so normal around you? Being his best friend, you were there for every one of Mark’s crushes, the big ones and the small ones, and he always had the same tell no matter what; a burning face, the failed smooth moves, and the ultimate discussion with you about his feelings. Your heart was beating out of your chest, far too excited about the prospect that maybe he did have feelings for you, and far too scared about the possibility that he never would.
A few hours later, your phone binged! with the special sound reserved for Mark’s messages. Your phone nearly slipped out of your hands when you read his text.
From: Markle
Are you still down for our date tomorrow? I think we have some things to talk about haha
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masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist
#someonexsomeone#kpop imagine#laufeyfest#nct imagine#nct 127 imagine#kpop one shot#mark lee one shot#mark lee imagine#mark lee imagines#mark lee x reader#mark lee x you#nct fanfic#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#nct dream x reader
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Falling Behind
Title: Falling Behind
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 3.2k
Pairing: Lee Taeyong x np!Reader
Summary: Taeyong just wanted a little time alone, was that too much to ask?
Authors Note: Day 8!! We're getting so close to the end now! I finally got to see Barbie yesterday, after a series of 'only this type of thing could happen to a ff author' level hijinks, and wow. Did i love it? yes. Do i have extremely conflicted emotions on it? double yes. Did i make me sob? absolutely yes. So, please take his awful meet cute as I scream into my pillow
If there was one thing about Superman that Taeyong understood, it was the appreciation of a simple disguise. Yes, only popping on a pair of glasses and becoming an entirely new person was a little farfetched, even he could admit that, but taking it just a little step further and adding a mask or hat made him completely disappear into the crowd. He was grateful, eternally so, that he was able to pursue his dream of music, exploring parts of himself he never thought he could, yet…there was a part of him, a really small part of him, that desperately wishes for the peace that came with his life before his music career. He was handsome, his mom made sure he knew that, but he didn’t think he would stop cars on the street or get free food with a flash of a smile like some people he knew. He could exist in the world and not have to think for a second that he would cause a mob just by walking by a group of people. Hence, his other great appreciation in life; his mask.
After a minor incident here and there with some unruly fans, Taeyong knew the drill by now if he wanted some alone time. Hair had to be tucked away, as the colorful strands would stand out too much, and glasses had to be on if he was going to take his mask off to eat or drink briefly. He could stay at a cafe for a little bit, but not too long, lest people started to notice him. Walks in the park were strictly forbidden unless he had a guard with him, and public transportation was an extreme no-no. Always notify staff where he was going, never stay out too late if he had a schedule the next day, and if he came back with any scapes or bruises in places that were too suspicious, he could kiss his privileges goodbye for the amount of time deemed appropriate by the injury. And absolutely no talking to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary,
Stifling? A little bit. He was just happy to be let free every once in a while, unlike some of his other members.
Today had him in the unmarked black bucket hat, brim just big enough to cover the tops of his eyebrows that had been dyed blue from his most recent stage, his favorite spring tank top, baggy cargo pants, and his favorite chunky tennis shoes. With a worn-out satchel thrown over his shoulder, he thought the outfit would fit the fresh spring air that pushed through the city. And, with his favorite cafe being in a relatively remodeled part of town, his outfit didn’t stand out much as soon as he joined in the groups of young adults all enjoying a weekend away from school or their jobs. This cafe in particular had a rotating staff of seasonal workers as well as a bustling crowd of young entrepreneurs, either meeting at the cafe for meetings or to take advantage of the free high-speed internet. Taeyong found he could often stay there for longer than most, and it made him absolutely giddy. His steps had a little more spring in them as he jogged up the stairs.
The modeling, the training, the shoots, the recording sessions. They never seemed to stop, which meant he couldn’t either. So, on a rare day he was able to have alone, a random Tuesday that was supposed to be filled with the newest stage fittings but seemingly got canceled out of nowhere with no other thing to fill it, he jumped at the chance to get out of the dorms. Yes, he loved his members, he loved spending time with their stupid asses and watching them get stupider by the minute, but there was only so much of them he could handle. Love him to death, but if Johnny asked him to go out one more time, his form of relaxation, Taeyong was going to jump him. He nearly kissed his manager when he agreed to let Taeyong venture out alone, his mind already on his favorite place.
As usual, the cafe was near rowdy with people. The person who took his order didn’t spare him a second glance as they took his order, and neither did any of the handful of people he passed on the way to a table in the corner. It was piled with dirty dishes, but he didn’t mind pushing them towards the edge in order to actually have a place to sit away from the door. Plus, as soon as the waitress brought his drink and pastry over, the table was quickly cleared, leaving space for his worn notebook and laptop. His headphones, already pushed over his ears, were ready to repeat the same melody that was in desperate need of lyrics. Though, he only got as far as plugging them in, before a notification had him opening his email. There, in bold letters at the top, was a digital invitation.
You, Lee Taeyong, are proudly invited to the wedding of… was all the message was able to say in the small preview box. In an instant, all the happiness and motivation of the day drained from his shoulders.
He should have expected it really. He was, after all, there when the proposal happened. A lovely high school reunion of sorts, packed with people he knew and people he didn't, all wanting to see what their classmates had been up to in the years between their graduation and the present. Taeyong originally wasn’t going to go, but he was a sucker for the puppy dog eyes his friends gave him when they asked. It was a little awkward at first, people being too afraid to approach him first, but the night mellowed easily with the copious amounts of alcohol being served. The proposal was done by a couple he knew met in high school, though he wasn’t particularly close to either of them.
“A big wedding,” he mused to himself, the only logical explanation he had for why he of all people was being invited. With a huff, he pushed the laptop closed, not bothering to view the message in its entirety right now, before slumping in his hair, his eyes fixed on the view out the window. Being on the second floor on a relatively busy street, there was more than enough to keep him entertained as he gathered his thought.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for the couple, he reasoned with himself. It was, well, that the couple wasn’t him. This wasn’t the first time romance had his thoughts racing to the point of unproductivity, he had to think about it often enough with what SM wanted him to be producing. This was, of course, added on top of the fact that he was a romantic at heart, and pretty much everything around him reminded him of romance in some way or another. A lone tea cup on a table? A tragic love story of a recently widowed elderly woman. A jacket left on the bench at the park? Of course, it had to be left behind by a couple who were too excited to splash together in the nearby river to realize they forgot it. Two people sitting remotely close to one another in the library? A private meet-up between the children of rival companies. Love stories were endless to create. It was both a blessing, as it allowed more than enough material to write pages worth of music, and a curse, since it was literally all he could think about all the time
Before, this was a fun thing for him to dream up. Life as an average citizen meant that romance was filled with endless possibilities of meet-cutes, raunchy escapades, and scandalous affairs. Now? There was too much to risk to allow himself to fall for any pretty person that crossed his path, no matter how much he yearned for the simplicity and comfort of love. Heck, he hadn’t ever really been in a relationship, a true one, where you were able to spend all night basking in the presence of the person you loved and talk about anything your heart desired without it ever feeling like there was an end. Only through his music was he able to speak freely on his melancholy thoughts, as any hint of romance between him and someone else had the power of the company raining down on his head. Even his bandmates, who he wanted to trust with his entire being, were too risky to tell.
So, more often than not, his music was his only outlet, and his thought was his only real safe space to think. He was sure, absolutely positive, that being able to talk things out would clear a lot of his doubts. For now, he could only wish for a moment he could be so vulnerable.
Things were in a constant loop of doubt. Ever since he loved into the city, moved away from his home, and had to fend for himself, it feels like he’s been stuck in an endless loop of self-doubt and critique. It seems like life for others has been moving in a natural progression, the number of couples in his life growing exponentially. Couples, he could handle…to an extent. Some lasted, some didn’t, but there was some part of himself, however bad, that could talk his way out of feeling sorry for himself when he saw them. Love was obvious in his eyes, and those same eyes saw the number of couples that would date just to have someone. Arm candy, social status, a way to starve off loneliness. He started to get good at seeing the subtle differences, especially when he was finally able to go out on his own and people-watch to his heart's content. Marriage, on the other hand, was something too ingrained in his brain as synonymous with love that now, as those very couples he tried to deny were tying the knot, made him feel so very little. It felt, for lack of a better phrase, that he was beginning to fall behind in whatever stupid race life was. It made him feel…hollow.
He sighed, willing himself to pick up his nearest pen and put it against the paper in his notebook, just to do something to get those thoughts to stop. Sometimes, with a little luck, his melancholy thoughts could translate themselves into lyrics that rid them from his head. Lines and dots, lines and dots, but no real words. After nothing appeared on the page, he signed heavily, tossing the pen against the pages one more to throw his head back to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Are you alright?” His head whipped up, hand unconsciously lifting to make sure his mask was still in place, as he made eye contact with the person standing beside the other chair at his table. His face flushed when he met your eyes, his mouth drying at the way they sparkled with genuine concern for him. You were wearing an apron with the cafe’s logo, and a pot of steaming coffee in your hand, silently gesturing to his near-empty cup. He nodded once, a response to your vocal question, but you didn’t move from your spot beyond filling his cup. He thanked his mask for being in place as he winced, his perfectly sugary mocha getting filled with pure black coffee. When he didn’t respond, you seemed to panic. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you seemed happy when you arrived, and you, uh, you’ve been staring out the window for a while now.” Taeyong’s eyes widened. “Oh! I don’t mean that I’ve been staring at you! I just noticed- I mean, you’re awfully handsome-- no wait I mean…”
Taeyong couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped him at your flustered face. You only reddened further at his laugh.
“No, I’m sorry this was dumb. You’re obviously working. I’ll just…yeah,” with a soft sigh, you headed back behind the counter without another word. Taeyong watched your slumped shoulder, a smile stretched on his face as you disappeared behind the swinging door. It grew even more as he watched you smack yourself on the head, gesturing wildly as your mouth moved with obvious embarrassed passion. He wondered, full of glee, if you knew he could obviously see you through the window on the door.
As much as he hated to admit it, the disturbance was exactly what he needed to forgo his sadness. His hands made quick work of a new song, a hopeful melody all about seeing someone beautiful in public only to embarrass yourself when you try to approach them, keywords and snippets of lyrics filling the page in a way only legible to him. He didn’t stop, didn’t allow himself to, until his hand started cramping so bad he had to switch over to his laptop for some reprieve. Too focused, he kept making the mistake of sipping on his ruined coffee, gagging every time his tongue met bitter coffee. His empty plate was quickly filled with sugar packets, but that did little to change the flavor. He was midway through another horrible sip when you approached again.
Bashful, looking down at your feet, you held out a new cup and saucer, the shape
distinctly different from the one he was holding. He slowly lowered his cup, pushing his mask over his face, though he doubt you would have noticed. If you weren’t looking down, the blush-covered cheeks were more than enough proof that you would’ve found a different way to avoid eye contact.
“I-I’m sorry about your coffee…” you said softly, holding out the cup again. Taeyong took it, if only to stop the clinking of cup against plate as your hand quivered, his mouth open to respond, when you continued, “I’m still-I’m still learning what drinks are which and I thought your cup was the one for plain coffee but I-...I should have asked before filling it up and ruining your drink. Please forgive me!” You bowed deeply as you finished. He was the one blushing now, standing quickly, one hand still holding the new coffee while the other hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure if he should touch you to tell you that bowing wasn’t necessary at all or break one of the rules and speak.
Before he could decide, you rose just as quickly as you bowed, knocking your shoulder against the hovering cup. As quick as his dance reflexes allowed, Taeyong righted his hand, saving the cup from smashing against the floor, but not stopping the pipping hot coffee from spilling over his thumb and onto the open pages of his notebook below. You cried out as Taeyong did, placing the cup down as quickly as he could so he could stick his burning thumb into his mouth.
“Oh, no! I’m sorry!” Your apron, barely organized before, exploded in haste on napkins, both them and the other random things you had in the big pocket falling to the floor. A small notepad, more than a couple of pens, straws, and miscellaneous wrappers scattered at his feet as you hastily shoved the thin paper napkins onto his notebook with one hand, trying to salvage as much of the ink and paper as you could, while the other pulled his hand away from his mouth to hastily blow on it. Your eyes were welling with tears now, glittering at the brim of your eyelids, as you tried to do everything yourself. Behind you, he could see your commotion caused more than a few eyes to watch the show, some snickering while others winced sympathetically. Behind the counter, he could see your coworkers trying to keep the line moving while keeping an eye on you. Whether it was to determine if they were needed or because they were worried you were going to do something else horribly embarrassing, he couldn’t tell. When no one approached, and you were getting near frantic with your movements, Taeyong gently reached out a hand, laying it on top of yours where it held his wrist in a vice grip. Slowly, your lips stopped blowing and your hand stopped wiping, tears spilling over. Finally, you met his eyes.
“It’s alright,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice low. “Thank you for your help.”
You simply searched his eyes for a moment, trying to see how truthful he was in his reassurance, before you gently let your hand slip out from under his. The chatter of the restaurant started up once more, placated by his calm demeanor.
“I’m…I’m…” You couldn’t find the words. Taking a step back, you bowed deeply again. “I’m terribly sorry!” Teayong pulled you up quickly, too nervous at your habit to bow to second guess touching you again.
“It’s alright, really. I’m not seriously hurt, and you got whatever landed on my notebook. It’s too old for me to care now about a little spilled coffee on it.” Your face was riddled with worry, especially as he shook out his hand, trying to cool the red mark on his thumb.
“Oh!” Quickly, you reached into your other apron pocket, pulling out a small tube of burn cream and a bandaid. You hesitated for a second, hand awkwardly held between handing the items to the handsome stranger or helping it apply it. Taeyong hesitated a moment too, before holding out his hand for your to help. Your tears had slowed now, but your tear-stained face coupled with the grateful smile made his heart leap into his throat. “I-You get burned quite a bit when you’re learning to make drinks,” you explained, expertly applying a dab of cream on the worst spot and wrapping it securely in the bandaid. Taeyong flexed his finger, impressed with the range of motion he still had, as you gestured to the countless small burn marks that littered your arms and hands. “It’s probably the thing I’ve gotten best at since starting here, healing a burn.”
“Thank you,” he replied softly. You beamed at him, before worriedly looking down at the table again.
“I’ll have someone bring you a new coffee, since I ruined the last one…two.” You winced, thinking for a moment before leaning down, writing something quickly into his notebook with his discarded pen. When you righted, he noticed it was a number, a small arrow pointing towards the drying stain. “My KakaoTalk, so I can pay for a new notebook.” Before Taeyong could protest, you held up your hand, stopping him. You were back to looking at your feet, avoiding eye contact completely. “Please let me do this. It’s the least I could do.” When he didn’t respond, you nodded once, picking up both cups on the table to get him a new one.
In your desperate desire to escape, you didn’t notice Taeyong’s bright red face, eyes blown out in absolute wonder. No, you were firmly hunched over the espresso machine, getting chewed out by your manager, to notice him let out a giggle, flopping back into his seat and running his burned thumb softly over your number scribbled into his notebook.
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masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist
#someonexsomeone#laufeyfest#kpop imagine#nct imagine#nct one shot#kpop one shot#nct 127 imagine#nct 127 one shot#taeyong imagine#lee taeyong imagine#taeyong x reader#lee taeyong one shot#taeyong one shot
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Laufeyfest Masterlist
This was made in celebration in Laufey's new album "Bewitched" coming September 8th, 2023! Each story is inspired by the name of the fic, though keep in mind they aren't explicitly song fics. Thank you, and enjoy!
Street by Street // Miguel O'Hara (3.5k)
he’s hot but at what cost, alluded cheating, happyish ending, np!reader
James // Remus Lupin (3.5k)
friends to lovers, misplaced love, intentional miscommunication between friends, np!reader
Love to Keep Me Warm // Harry Potter (1.5k)
young romance, winter is the best time for young love tbh, slytherin/gryffindor pair, np!reader
Valentine // Draco Malfoy (2.5k)
traumatic pasts make loving hard, post Hogwarts, acquaintances to lovers, nb!reader
Everything I Know About Love // Bella Swan (3k)
strangers to lovers, drinking/drunk acitivites, edward slader, nb!reader
Fragile // George Weasley (3.5k)
strangers to lovers, dickhead man creates yummy tension, love interest isn't from Hogwarts, np!reader
Dear Soulmate // Edward Cullen (2.3k)
hes a sap, no Bella, fated mates, np!reader
Falling Behind // Lee Taeyong (3.2k)
coffee shop au, strangers to lovers?, painfully awkward, np!reader
Just like Chet // John Price (3.9k)
stranger to lovers, love is hard when your man is government propaganda, np!reader
From the Start // Mark Lee (2.7k)
school AU, friends to lovers, unrequited love or is it?, nb!reader
Promise // Hobie Brown
long distance, exes can be friends, cross dimensional relationships are hard
Spin Offs
Bus Boy (Beautiful Stranger) // Megumi Fushiguro (2.5k)
nonsorcerer au, strangers to something more?, unrequited love or is it?, minimal dialogue, nb!reader
tip! - m! = he/him, f! = she/her, nb! = they/them, np! = no gendered pronouns used (only “I” or “you”)
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It's Here!! Laufeyfest!!
Hey guys! I have an exciting thing planned that I hope will actually force me to write and not just abandon things like I normally do…haha. So! Welcome to Laufeyfest! In preparation for her new album, finally something to break me out of listening to A Night at the Symphony on repeat, I’m releasing 1 new story a week inspired by a handful of my favorite songs. Obviously this isn’t all of them, and I might do another round of this later, but for now these 11 stories will hopefully get you as excited as I am. If you guys have another song and character you want me to write for please don't hesitate to ask and I’ll add it to the list!
I listened to the song on repeat while brainstorming each story, going with my gut instinct on which character I headcannon for each storyline, so that’s why there is kind of an inconsistent pattern. RIP to the other characters I love you just didn't make the cut lmaooo
See you every Thursday!!
Street By Street // Miguel O’Hara
James // Remus Lupin
Love to Keep Me Warm // Harry Potter
Valentine // Draco Malfoy
Everything I Know About Love // Bella Swan
Fragile // George Weasley
Dear Soulmate // Edward Cullen
Falling Behind // Lee Taeyong
Just like Chet // John Price
From the Start // Mark Lee
Promise // Hobie Brown
New album, Bewitched, drops September 8th :))
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Bus Boy
Title: Bus Boy
Author: SomeonexSomeone
Word Count: 2.5k
Pairing: NonSorcerer!Megumi Fushiguro x np!Reader
Summary: There's a really cute guy on your bus ride.
Authors Note: completely inspired by Laufey's "Beautiful Stranger"! okay listen listen listen I know Laufeyfest is over but I love this song sm and I'm sad I didn't put it on the official list so like just think about this as a spin-off type deal okay?
There's a really cute guy on your bus ride. Like, not just a fleeting, ‘eyes skimmed and appreciated and moved on’, but more of a ‘eyes skimmed, couldn’t comprehend what it saw, near whiplash to make sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing’ cute. He wasn’t looking at anyone near him, but the way he fluidly moved with the bus and the people around him made it clear he was more observant than his relaxed stance appeared. He was looking out the window, the sun shining just right on his face so every sharp angle was highlighted, his eyes sparkling as they watched the passing scenery. Eyelashes long enough to question if they were real or not barely fluttered as things whipped by, and didn’t move in any way to indicate he knew you were staring (which was impressive because you had been staring at him for just a tad bit too long at this point, and oh god, why won’t you look away? This has to be getting weird right?). His hair was dorky in an endearing way, spiked up in all directions, though it didn’t look like he had to use any product to get it that way. Effortless, just like the rest of him.
You were rather reluctant to come all the way out to the countryside for your summer vacation. To be completely honest, you nearly burst into tears when your parents decided you would go help out your grandparents for the summer, needing to ship you away while they went to whatever new conference they needed to attend. Plans that had been in the works for months suddenly went down the drain, and there was nothing you could do about it. You loved your grandparents, you really did, and their adorable farm on the outskirts was often a great place to get away and relive old memories. But, to be honest, there hasn’t been anything fun to do down there in years. You were older now, nearly the age where you would set out on your own adventure with all the freedoms and restrictions adulthood provided, which meant that you were much too old to be digging around in muddy creeks to look for frogs, or dressing up in ridiculous outfits to entertain your grandparents’ many friends. Both of those memories forced a shiver up your spine. If they made you reenact The Princess and the Frog again…
That was what most of the bus ride had consisted of, reliving old memories and having to physically stop your face from contorting by squeezing your hands together, until just as you were pulling into the town center, the cutest guy you had ever seen sat right across from you without warning. Your long stare was interrupted by his very being, and the way the sun haloed his head almost made you question if you were witnessing a real encounter with an angel on Earth. To be fair, you were sleep-deprived, barely managing to hop on this bus before it left the train station, bag being hastily shoved back together when it popped open from the force of your desperate attempt to get aboard. A complete mess, for lack of a better description. And here was some guy at… 5:30 am (?!?) looking like he was one wardrobe change away from walking down the runway. He definitely caught your eye, to which you hastily looked away, trying as hard as you could to will the universe into help you this one time in making the cutest guy you’ve ever seen not remember the person who made a fool of themselves by ogling at him with drool dried to the side of their face.
Now you think the universe listened a little too hard. Of all the things to really pay attention to, it had to be your wish to be forgotten by Bus Boy (Vehicle Man? Beautiful Stranger? Hot Farmer? Angel Guy? You had yet to come up with a good enough name to describe him), and not any of the other countless wishes you made before getting onto that fateful bus. You’re a little embarrassed to admit, but ever since that original meeting, you’ve been trying to get a second chance at a first impression. Any errand your grandparents needed to do, you were the first to volunteer. Grocery shopping, delivering or picking up from friends, even going as far as going back to the train station to pick up an emergency order, all to get a glimpse at your cute Bus Boy. It was even expected at this point, no one asking before dumping something in your hands with the shared bus pass placed on top. It was mortifying the teasing that came with it now, most of your family, and their friends, figuring someone was the reason why you were too excited to head into town, despite the many, many excuses you came up with to justify your actions (you were pretty proud of yourself for some of them, but, alas, your family is too romantic to want to believe anything else).
In the least creepy way possible, and with a lot of trial and error (which is also definitely not creepy), you were starting to notice a pattern in his daily routine. He rode the bus at an ungodly hour in the morning, seeming to head from the larger town to the farmland on the outskirts, getting on long before you would and a handful of stops before you, which made it difficult to see him then. In the afternoons, it seemed like he was the same type of errand boy you were, whether by choice or not you weren’t sure, but he rarely carried anything with him and it was a completely random chance that you would see him. At night, or, really, around sunset, he would be on the bus headed back towards the town, seemingly going home.
This seemingly random schedule, and the complete opposite nature of your bus routes, made it nearly as hard to avoid him as it was to see him. It seemed almost karma in nature the way he would always show up on days you weren’t feeling your best, just trying to get in and out or not bothering to put any effort into your appearance, and those instances where you were feeling great, on top of the world in confidence, he was nowhere to be seen.
Which is, of course, how you ended up here, staring (gawking) at him on the hottest day of the year. This had to be the ultimate punishment, all that complaining from the beginning of summer and the secret wish you had that something, anything, would prevent you from being forced to the outskirts of civilization topped with the fact that you’re kinda sorta stalking this guy who, let’s be real, has no clue you exist.
It was the most brutal day of your stay so far, being sent to your grandfather's close friend to help them move some things around. Easy enough, right? Wrong. It was only after you got there that they dared to tell you that they needed the entirety of their old shack emptied so they could tear it down to build a new one. Very exciting for them, a very mud-covered day for you. There wasn’t much you could do to salvage your clothes from the brunt of it, completely stiff from the dirt and grass and just years of grime that thrived in that neglected shed. One tumble involving a rusted bucket of mystery liquid destroyed your pants and shoes, and an accidental bump into a support beam sent a rain of rotten wood to really add to the whole experience. The couple was nice enough to send you back in some spare clothes so you wouldn’t dirty the bus with the worst of it, but you must have been a sight anyway because not a single person on the entire ride back had the decency to look subtly. The pants fit, thankfully, but they were bright pink and fuzzy, and the shirt was an old button-up that was nearly as ratty as the ruined clothes in the plastic bag by your foam sandal-covered feet.
To be honest, you were near tears, feeling pathetic.
And to make matters worse, Bus Boy, naturally, had to make an appearance and kill any happiness you hoped to find at the end of a grueling day. Sitting prettily, taking a break from the newspaper spread across his lap to watch the passing landscape, like some artist's wet dream. What were the odds that he was going to be on this stupid bus, far later than he ever did, passing all his usual stops, prolonging this horrible moment? You wanted to curl up into a ball, but there was also something healing about staring at this beautiful man that made breathing simultaneously easier and harder.
Now that you were looking closer, you could tell something was a little…off. What it was, you weren’t completely sure, but his usual relaxed stance was a little stiff, kind of like he was getting ready to bolt the moment the door opened. Honestly, you were surprised every time the doors opened and he remained where he was, just as tense, if not more, as the minutes passed.
Not that you were looking that closely, of course.
The one mission you had currently was to make it off the bus before he could get a good look at you. Not that you had any idea if he noticed you, before today or even right now, but the idea that maybe this could be your second first impression made you nearly jumpy as he looked. After that initial gawking session, you would only let your eyes pass briefly over his, just to make sure he wasn’t looking at you, before returning to look towards the front of the bus, willing it to go just a little faster. Of all the days to have Bus Boy ride past his usual stop, it had to be today. Your hands couldn’t sit still in your lap, one too many passes over your face has made it impossible to figure out if you just added more dirt or you were just that gross, and you had to force your leg to top bouncing because it kept nudging the bag at your feet, the crinkle of plastic booming in the nearly empty bus.
Then finally, finally, it pulled up to your stop. You were on your feet before the bus came to a complete halt, a rookie mistake as the doors always took a second longer to fully open, and, of course, Bus Boy had to be sitting right next to the exit. You bounced on the balls of your feet, the longest 4 seconds of your life. You couldn’t help it, casting one last look at the boy you had tried so hard to ignore all ride. And, to your horror, he was looking right back at you, stunning you into near rigor mortis.
Cute? What was I thinking? This guy is gorgeous!
“I-” his soft voice started (of course he had to have a nice voice too, are you freaking kidding me-), but you didn’t look up, forcing your way through the door the second they were wide enough, calling out a thank you to the driver over your shoulder, practically sprinting down the hill to your temporary residence. You were absolutely mortified.
Megumi watched you bolt with wide eyes, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He slapped a hand over his mouth, hiding his expression from anyone who dared to look over at him. It was the only thing he could do to stop them from shaking.
It was how Yuuji and Nobara found him three stops later, his legs nearly jelly as they pushed himself off the bus and into the darkening evening. His tight grip on the wad of newspapers he brought was nearly humorous.
“Woah! What’s up with you?” Yuuji called, jogging up to meet him. He was carrying a bag bursting with snacks under his arm, bounding up to him in anticipation of the star gazing the three were going to do tonight. Nobara leisurely strolled up beside him, arms gently carrying a blanket Megumi recognized as Yuuji’s. Megumi shook his head once, twice, trying to snap himself out of the spell you had cast on him, instead taking a second look at the now obvious women’s bag his friend was carrying.
“What’s with the bag?”
“Oh! Nobara was complaining about her shoulder acting up again, so I offered to carry it for her.” Megumi side-eyed his other friend, who was skillfully dodging his gaze in favor of examining her nails. It’s more than three months now since Nobara injured her shoulder helping our Yuuji and his older brother Sukuna reinforce a collapsing wall in their house (she was excellent with a toolbox, though it was rare for her to do any of the actual dirty work), a minor injury that didn’t even have her hospitalized, but every once in a while her shoulder will mysteriously ‘act up’ and Yuuji, who was horrified that his friend was injured in any capacity helping him, immediately is at her beck and call. “Gojo and the rest say hi, by the way. We passed each other on my way out, and he wanted me to bring you this.” Megumi rolled his eyes at the condom deposited in his hand.
“What an idiot.”
“He really is. Did he seriously think you’d have the courage to ask even though you’ve been creeping on them all summer without a word?” Megumi swung out his elbow, but Nobara simply sidestepped, putting Yuuji between the two of them.
“Shut up.”
“What, was your beautiful angel even more breathtaking today that you couldn’t ask them to come?” Nobara teased. Yuuji laughed, jostling Megumi to match the goofy atmosphere. After all, it wasn’t every day that their cool and collected friend looked as vulnerable as he felt.
Megumi hesitated, recalling immediately the adorable shyness you displayed today, something he hadn’t seen since that first night he saw you. Your face was covered in dirt, obviously exhausted, and in clothes that were definitely not yours. He easily remembered your flushed face as you made eye contact, the longest he’d had the pleasure to hold. He felt a pleasant shiver run up his spine.
“Yeah. Something like that,” he mumbled, his cheeks flaming bright pink. His companions didn’t give him a moment of peace, hounding him immediately for his more than obvious crush. Megumi rolled his eyes at them, chucking the unneeded (but not unwanted) condom in the trash as he ushered them to start their climb up the hill.
Next time, he thought, falling into step with his laughing friends. Next time, he’ll pluck up the courage to finally ask you to hang out outside your near-daily bus rides. And, while he’s at it, tell you just how beautiful you are.
______________________________________________________________
masterlist l Laufeyfest masterlist
#someonexsomeone#megumi imagine#megumi fushiguro imagine#megumi one shot#megumi x reader#jjk imagine#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk one shot#domestic megumi
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Masterlist
I am Trying to be more organized please and thank you lmao
「Broad」
Youtube
Kpop
「Specific」
Modern Warfare
Spiderverse
Hogwarts/Harry Potter
Twilight
Jujutsu Kaisen
「Events」
Laufeyfest
tip! - m! = he/him, f! = she/her, nb! = they/them, np! = no gendered pronouns used (only "I" or "you")
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