#she’ll say whatever is beneficial to her in the moment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taechaos · 3 years

Text

Social Media

from Textbook Love drabbles

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble(?), smut, college au

synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence

word count: 4.7k

a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.

The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.

But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.

“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”

“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“I was bored.”

“And where did you go?” he pries.

“None of your business.”

Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”

“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.

“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.

Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”

Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds.

Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all.

But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”

Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”

“Elaborate.”

“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point.

Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”

“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”

“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.

He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”

Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.

He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people.

His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”

Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before.

“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you…

“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”

Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I’ll talk to you when you’re not busy.”

He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”

You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”

It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”

Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”

You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”

“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”

Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.

“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”

“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.

Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.

Taehyung is a host too.

He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”

“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”

Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”

The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.

“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.

“He has an Instagram?”

He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images.

“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.

“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing!

“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”

It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips.

Click.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.

“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”

He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.

And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm.

“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”

Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well.

You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile.

A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you.

“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.

“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.

“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”

A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“What else did he tell you?”

You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”

“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door.

You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”

The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully.

“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”

You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter.

“I want you to be in it.”

He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”

“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.

Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?

“I-Is he not your friend?”

Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.

Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”

“Shut up.”

You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”

At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts.

His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him.

Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”

He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”

The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”

“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out.

His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.

And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy.

“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.

After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.

He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”

“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”

Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”

Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.

It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”

“I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”

Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.

“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”

Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.

“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”

“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”

“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”

Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”

“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”

A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you.

Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too…

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jjk smut #bts fic #kpop #jungkook fic #jeon jungoook smut

641 notes · View notes

keichan · 3 years

Text

The Confession (Part 2)

You had a crush on your friend Bokuto Koutarou in high school. Though he rejected you, you moved on years later. Or so you thought.

Part 1

wc: 2.3k

A/N: This was requested through an anon however I won’t be taking requests off of originals anymore. Truthfully this was really difficult to write since the rejection was actually something that had happened to me about a month ago with a pretty good friend of mine. Anyways feel free to send me requests and headcannons of other things! My inbox is DRY!!

“Hey. Let me in.” Bokuto’s voice sounded clear as day over the phone.

“I didn’t know you were back in Tokyo. Why are you outside the apartment?” You were on the brink of sleep when he called.

“Didn’t Akaashi tell you that I was visiting? It’s been a while. C’mere.”

You sighed. Bokuto has tried his best to keep in touch with you since he had graduated. The first year was simple per usual. Though you admitted you distanced yourself from him. However since you and Akaashi became roommates and started college. You just didn’t have time.

“Hey. “ You quietly opened the front door to let him in. He looked good as ever. He pulled you tightly into a hug as he sighed into your hair.

“Long time no see, huh?” He pulled away and started walking towards your bedroom. You yawned as you followed him inside. He stood at the door way as he studied the walls. You tapped on his shoulder gently and stepped around him to sit on your bed.

“So are you gonna crash on the couch again?” You yawned. He nodded. Still standing.

“I’ve had something on my mind for a while now and I’ve gotta say, I was wrong.” He said plainly.

“About?” You body perked up in bed. His golden eyes turned to you. The moonlight that peaked through the blinds illuminated his face.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to do it, but I have more time than I could have imagined since I’ve gone pro-“

“What are you talking about?” You propped yourself up, swinging your legs onto the ground. Bokuto wasn’t the kind of person to sound cryptic.

He sat on the bed beside you, now looking to the ceiling. Studying the cracks, the texture before returning his gaze to you.

“You know. Two years ago I said no because I thought it would be more beneficial for the both of us. I didn’t want to hinder you at all. So I acted like it meant nothing.” He sighed as he laid onto your bed. Eyes back to the ceiling. You swallowed a lump in your throat. What was he talking about?

“I don’t even know if you’d even still be interested. I mean we don’t talk as much. It was even a little awkward for a while.” He continued.

“I was hoping that you would want to give it a try.” He closed his eyes as he sucked in a breath, flailing his arms behind him.

“Give what a try?”

His body shot straight up and he looked at you knowingly.

“You know!”

Your hand quickly clamped onto his mouth.

“Akaashi’s asleep right now. You need to be quiet.”

He nodded as your hand slid down onto your lap.

“You know!” He whispered. “When you asked me out and I said no. That whole thing. I want to date. Or at least try.”

You gave him a dumbfounded look.

“You’re funny, Bokuto. I’ll give you that. I think I’m going to go to sleep now, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You began to get under your blankets, facing away from Bokuto.

“But, I”m being serious.”

“Goodnight, Bokuto.” You heard him sigh as the weight from the foot of your bed lifted. Your bedroom door creaked closed. You stared at your bedroom wall. The smallest, dumbest conversation made your feelings resurface.

“So where is she?” Bokuto dug into the breakfast that Akaashi had prepared for them.

“Oh? She’s on a breakfast date with some guy from her biology class.”

Bokuto froze with his spoon in his mouth.

“Date?” His voice is slightly muffled by the utensil. Akaashi nodded as he pressed his coffee cup to his lips. The steam fogged up his glasses ever so slightly.

“Yeah. I think he asked her last Friday. She left about two hours ago.” He placed the cup on the table looking at him knowingly. Bokuto stared into his food and flipped it over, cutting it into small bits. Akaashi glanced at his friend as the front door opened.

“Hey! Oh Akaashi! I didn’t know you were cooking this morning!” You looked over the counter before you reached into the cabinet to grab yourself a plate.

“You’re still hungry?” He questioned.

“Yeah! We ended up eating pretty quick and walked around the park off of campus! It was pretty nice!” Once you realized that Bokuto was poking at his food, you sunk awkwardly into the chair next to him. He didn’t say a word or even look at you.

“So!” You took a bite of your second breakfast. “What do you two have planned out today?”

“I have to go to a study group for English tonight. I’m not doing too well.” Akaashi stood to pour himself another cup of coffee. The sound of the liquid sputtering into the glass raised an unbeknownst tension between you and the gray-haired man beside you.

“I guess we can watch movies or something.” Your stomach dropped with the realization that your roommate has class at noon. Akaashi checked his watch as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

“I’m going to class. See you guys.” As soon as the door closed the silence was deafening. It felt like the two of you were sitting there for an hour, when in all reality the two of you finished eating in silence for three minutes. You made a poor excuse that you were going to take a nap. He tried to bicker with you to spend time with him, but you ignored the man as your bedroom door loudly closed behind you.

You groaned as you sat up in bed. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you rose and made your way to the kitchen. You slowed as you saw Bokuto looking around in the fridge. Using his other hand he was using a towel to dry his hair.

You let out a breath you didn’t know that you were holding. What do you say? Or do you not say anything. May as well pretend that the run in never happened. Again…

Turning on you heel, you proceeded to go back to your room, when a hand grabbed your shoulder,

“Y/N.” You turned to see Bokuto. Face to face he gave you a small smile. Drops of water littered his forehead. He was so close.

“When are we gonna talk about last night? Or are you gonna brush it off until I leave?” He spoke in a low tone. His eyes not leaving yours once. You attempted to turn away from him, but he yanked your wrist towards him. Nose to nose now, you gulped as you leaned away from him, but he followed.

“Why’re you avoiding me?” His eyes reflected the dim light from your kitchen stove.

“I’m not-”

“I know when you’re lying to me.” HIs grip tightened slightly. Bokuto’s breath fanned your face. Your eyes scurried, looking everywhere, but him.

“Just tell me.” He said gently.

“You don’t get to do this to me.” You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your head away from him once more,

“Do what?”

“Do you understand how long it took for me to get over you? I had to pretend like it didn’t bother me for the end of the year! I never ever told Akaashi what happened because I didn’t want it to affect the dynamic of our friendship. I was in love with you and I had to deal with that. You don’t get to tell me that you were wrong and you finally want to go out. You don’t get to say whatever you want so loosely when I know it doesn’t affect you the way it does me!”

HIs hand fell slack to his side. His head tilted to the side. His face was solemn.

“You know that’s not true.” His voice was barely above a whisper. You held your wrist that he held to your chest. At this point your body was trembling. You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or yell.

“I knew you liked me. I didn’t want to hold you back at all. I didn’t want to be a let down to you when I left. I took the last two years to be a better version of myself so that we can work out. I just wanted to be normal for you.” He clasped his hands together awkwardly. You nodded before waking to your room. He called after you, his footsteps creaking after yours. You slid down to the floor. You felt the door shudder on the other side, assuming Bokuto had done the same, tears began to slide down your cheeks.

Hugging your knees to your chest, Bokuto began to speak on the other side of the door.

“You know. From the moment I saw you I liked you. You accepted me for me and I loved that. I loved spending time with you everyday. I enjoyed every second of it. These negative thoughts kinda began to eat at me.” He choked on his sentence. You heard a deep inhale before he continued. “What if you get sick of me. I saw how my teammates would treat me sometimes. But I couldn’t help with the way I acted. It was just me. I couldn’t change that some things had me down in the dumps. Then it was the whole what if she likes me back? She’ll date me and then look at me how everyone else does. She’ll be around me too long and I’ll have to put up a front that’s actually appealing to you so you won’t leave. Just you leaving.” His voice faded.

You studied the wood floors at your feet. The way the crevices connected into each other. You made patterns along them to pass the time. Words couldn’t escape your lips. The minutes passing felt like hours. Your heart had a dull ache.

“And then you said that to me in the gym that day.” He began.

“When you said that, it was everything that I had ever wanted to be truthful. Though at the same time all I could think of was why would you like me? I don’t dislike myself by any means, but I just couldn’t understand why someone as good as you could like me. I couldn’t say yes and let you down. So I said no. Then I saw you the next day and it was like nothing had happened. So I assumed that it wasn’t a big deal to you. I assumed that it was just a simple phase of your life for you. And for me… For me..” He paused.

“I’m going to sleep. I’m sorry that I disrespected your personal boundaries. I’ll leave in the morning. I wish you the best.”

Tears silently poured from your eyes. You looked for patterns in the wooden panels again to soothe yourself. Maybe this was for the best. Just to part ways…

No.

You shakily rose to your feet, resting your hand on the doorknob, you took a deep breath before opening the door. Your legs carried you to the living room. But Bokuto wasn’t there. The blankets that he had used to sleep on the couch were nicely folded on top of the pillow he had used. His gym bag was gone.

You went to the bathroom. The lights were off. Towels were hung nicely. His toiletries were gone.

You ran your hands through your hair as your stared around the room anxiously. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes once again.

Exiting the room you made way to the kitchen. A note on the fridge.

Y/N, Akaashi

I had to get back to Osaka early! Coach called me earlier and I didn’t want to inconvenience the two of you since you guys were already asleep.

Till next time

You crumpled the note in your hand. It had probably been at least fifteen minutes since he had left your bedroom door. He couldn’t have made it that far.

You took off through the front door. Barreling down the stairs you made it to the street. You turned the corner to the train station, you saw him.

“Koutarou!” You shouted. The tall man turned to see you. His eyes were red and puffy. He took the palm of his hand to wipe at his eyes.

“You know Tokyo is dangerous at night. You shouldn’t be running around. You’re not even wearing any shoes. What if someone littered and you stepped on a broken bottle.” He cried harder as he kept looking at you. He took both of his hands and covered his eyes.

“Koutarou, the trains aren’t running right now. Come back with me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to inconvenience you. I know you don’t want to be by me right now so I’ll just sleep in the station until they start running.”

You froze in front of the man as he turned his head away from you, continuously wiping his tears away. Not once in the three years that you had known Bokuto Koutarou had you seen him cry.

You stepped towards him slowly. You arms wrapped around his back and you pulled him into a tight hug. You began to sob. You felt your body tremble as cries silently escaped through your mouth. You felt his hands clasp around your back, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Shhh.” He attempted to soothe you. Running his hand repeated over the back of your head.

“You don’t need to cry just because I can’t handle my emotions. You have that guy you’ve been getting breakfast with. You’re doing great with school. Just don’t worry about me.”

You lifted your head off of your chest to meet his gaze. He gave you a sad smile. Reassuring you that it was okay. He had streaks down his cheeks from where his tears had fallen. You used your thumb to wipe them away.

“But he’s not you.”

You gently pulled him down by the nape of his neck and placed your lips gently on his . His eyes widened in shock. You pulled away, giving him a small smile.

“I hope you know that I would never ever get tired of you. I like you for you. Nothing could ever change that. We’ve waited long enough. Let’s finally give us a try.”

“Really?” His hands rushed up to your cheeks. He held your face as if you were the most delicate thing to exist. Tears welled up in his eyes once more.

“Really.”

He placed his lips on yours once more. Turning his head to deepen the kiss, you placed your hands gently atop of his. You could feel him smiling with every motion.

Pulling away he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s go home.” You stuck your hand out towards him smiling. Your features glowed beautifully under the streetlight. He placed his hand into yours and the two of you returned to your home.

#bokuto #bokuto koutaro #koutarou bokuto #bokuto angst #bokuto fluff #koutarou x reader #koutarou #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu AU #fukurodani #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi

126 notes · View notes

hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Note

💫✨💕send this to ten bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going 💕✨

Have a nice day/night/dance battle with the peacocks! :D

Alright, since you are a) very cool and fun and b) you took the time to send such a lovely message, I’m going to give you a part of a fic series I started many moons ago and abandoned for other things

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hatter Has Definitely Kissed Every Executive At Least Once And This Is How It Went: Ann Edition

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Rating: PG-13

Tags: Alcohol, shenanigans, everyone’s cutting loose, mild reluctance (but these people don’t turn down dares so y’know)

Summary: As a “team building” exercise, all of the Executives have met for a little get-together; and with alcohol and a rousing game of “truth or dare” involved, what could possibly go wrong?

“Ann,” Chisiya says, “truth or dare?”

Ann sighs. Her red-lacquered fingernails tap rhythmically against the green of a beer bottle, the glassy sound barely audible above the chatting of the half-drunk executives.

“I already told you, I’m not playing.”

“The fuck you aren’t,” Niragi snaps, grip on his rifle tightening as he downs another shot of vodka, “no skips, that’s the rule.”

“If I had to do it, you have to do it,” Keiichi offers mournfully, taking a sad sip of bourbon from a crystal-cut glass, “it’s only fair.”

Ann turns her attention towards Hatter. He’s taking a healthy swig from—ew, is that a bottle of peppermint schnapps? She wrinkles her nose in disgust as he raises his eyebrows in a suggestive arch.

“This is a terrible idea,” she tells him for the fourth time in the last hour, “and you should feel bad for making us do this.”

“Ann. Sweet, darling,” Hatter takes note of her unimpressed grimace, “angry Ann. This is all an exercise in trust. A way for all of us executives to bond.”

“And because he loves the drama,” Aguni adds.

“I really do,” Hatter says wistfully, “So, come on. One round and then you can go back to summoning demons or whatever you do in your little basement crypt.”

Ann sighs. Everyone is looking at her with expectant eyes. She finishes the rest of her beer and puts the empty bottle on the table.

“Fine,” she says, “One round, and then I’m leaving.”

“The ice queen giveth in,” Chisiya says, the corners of his mouth turning up onto a mischievous grin, “So, pick your poison. Truth...or dare?”

“Dare,” Ann says coolly, and the room erupts. Even Last Boss, who had been lurking in the corner until now, gasps. In a rare show of camaraderie, Niragi slaps Chisiya on the back and tells him to ‘give that bitch a good one.’

Imbeciles. All of them.

“Everyone gather ‘round the table,” Chisiya purrs—yes, purrs—as he looks her with a twinkle in his eye, “because this particular date involves each and every one of you.”

“Even me?” asks Last Boss.

“But of course,” Chisiya says, “we need everyone if we’re going to play...spin the bottle.”

Ann feels the blood drain from her face. Oh, this little blond twerp is despicable. He is evil and terrible and—

“No re-spins. No backing out. The kiss must last a minimum of five seconds, but it can go longer if you feel so inclined.”

“I won’t,” Ann answers curtly. There is not a person in this room she could ever want to kiss. (Except for Mira, but. Well. That’s a thought for another day.)

“I don’t know,” Niragi says with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, the silver piercing winking at her in a supposedly seductive manner, “once you get a taste of a real man, you might find yourself hooked.”

“Perhaps Niragi wouldn’t be so bad,” Mira muses with a serene smile, “his oral fixation is off-putting on the best of days, but it might translate well to a more intimate experience. That is, until he starts talking again. Then it’ll be terrible.”

Niragi’s face twists into a sharp scowl as he tries to sputter a comeback; drunkenness and embarrassment have apparently robbed him of his mental faculties, so he crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Ann says with a huff.

She places her empty beer bottle, label-side down, on the long wooden table. For the first time this evening, everyone is silent. Honestly, it’s kind of nice—it would be better if she didn’t have to end up kissing one of them, but, beggars can’t be choosers.

“You know,” Ann says, “there is a possibility it could land on me. Does that mean I don’t have to kiss anyone?”

“That means you get to choose,” Chisiya says, “which...well, that will most certainly add some spice to the night, wouldn’t it?”

“Very evil,” Aguni concludes with a nod, “I like it.”

Hm. Well, it was worth a shot.

With one final, annoyed sigh, Ann places her hand on the bottle and gives it a powerful spin. Maybe it’ll spin right off the table and shatter on the floor. She wouldn’t have to do anything weird, and then she could just go back to her room and take a long bath. Alone. The way the universe intended.

It’s impossible not to watch the bottle spin, light refracting off the glass and casting flickering spots of light around the room. It’s just a kiss. She’s kissed people before. Many people. At least two.

Friends kiss each other all the time. Not her friends, but other people and their friends. And these people aren’t really ‘friends,’ but they’re...acquaintances. Colleagues. Does that make it better or worse?

It’s slowing down now. With each passing second, her fate is being decided by the neck of the bottle. Mira, Last Boss, Keiichi—oh, God, please don’t let it be Keiichi, they have a meeting in the morning, that would be so awkward...

But, luckily, the bottle does not land on Keiichi. It does not land on Niragi, nor does it land on Chisiya. Last Boss has also been spared, as have Aguni and Mira. That leaves only one candidate...

“Oh, Ann,” Hatter says, clapping his hands together and looking entirely too pleased with this very strange turn of events, “I always knew there was something between us!”

The thing he’s talking about is tolerance—she tolerates him because it is both sensible and beneficial to be on his good side. He also, surprisingly enough, defers to her expertise on certain matters, which is more than can be said for her previous employers. They are friendly, certainly, but most certainly not friends.

And...lovers?

Out of the question.

But Fate (and a smug little blonde) have decided that they share a moment of passion. Could she have spun worse? Yes. Could she have spun better? Absolutely. 100%. Without a doubt.

But Ann is a woman of integrity. When she commits, she commits. And so, as she walks to the other side of the table, she keeps her spine straight and her head held high. She refuses to let these people see her falter.

“In addition to the parameters already given, I’d like to establish some rules of my own,” she says coolly, barely resisting the temptation to roll her eyes when he takes another gulp of alcohol. Yep, that’s definitely peppermint schnapps he has—she can tell by the stench of it, the way it’s sharpness burns at her eyes.

She’s always hated peppermint schnapps.

“Fine, fine,” Hatter says with a wave of his hand, “as long as you promise not to fall completely in love with me in the process.”

That gets a laugh from everyone—and even Ann considers cracking a smile at the thought of someone like her ever feeling something for someone like him.

“No tongue. No teeth. And,” Ann tell him firmly, “if you want to leave this room with your balls intact, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

The group ooh’s at that. Ann doesn’t look at them. She keeps her gaze focused on the man in front of her, watching him intently for any signs of weakness.

All she gets is a smirk.

“I would expect nothing less of you, Ann,” he replies, “however, you’re more than welcome to put your hands anywhere on my person.”

He leans in slightly, almost as if he’s letting her in on a secret.

“I could even give you a few suggestions, if you like.”

What a perfectly hideous thing for him to say. It doesn’t help that he’s fluttering his eyelashes at her like some kind of lovestruck cartoon character.

It’s annoying.

He’s annoying.

With a roll of her eyes, Ann grabs Takeru by the silk of his obnoxious robe and crashes her mouth against his-- because she’ll be damned if he’s the one kissing her.

Five...

The group gasps-- Takeru included, the noise muffled by the seal of their lips as she kisses him fully and firmly.

Four...

And it’s...not as gross as it could be, but it’s still a very odd experience. His lips are soft enough, and his beard-moustache-whatever-the-fuck is scratchy in a way that is. Well, it’s interesting. Not good, but...interesting.

Three...

“This is fucking weird,” Niragi shouts, sounding very disgusted.

Two...

“It’s like watching my parents,” Last Boss adds, “when they were still trying to convince my sister and I they were still in love and weren’t going to get a divorce.”

One...

And done.

“Okay,” Ann says flatly as she pulls away and swallows a grimace at the sight of her favorite shade of lipstick on Takeru’s lips (and is actually a very nice compliment to his skin tone, frustratingly enough) “Can I go now.”

For good measure, she releases his robe with a disdainful flick of her fingers and subtly brushes her hands off on her shorts. It’s not enough to get the scent of peppermint schnapps and awkwardness off of her skin, but it can’t hurt.

“A deal’s a deal,” Chisiya concedes, his eternally mischievous smirk stretched across his cheeks, “And I must say, I didn’t expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain so...enthusiastically.”

“That’s because nobody can resist me,” Takeru gloats, bottle of alcohol back in his grip as if it had never truly left, “It’s not her fault I’m so delectable--”

“Detestable,” Ann corrects under her breath.

“--And, even though you’ll try to deny it,” Takeru continues, disregarding her comment, “both of us know that there’s a part of you that liked kissing me.”

“I liked the part when she stopped,” Mira chirps cheerfully, “In fact, I think we all did!”

“You have no idea,” Aguni murmurs solemnly into his drink, his eyes darting towards Takeru with an unimpressed look. That’s...hm, there’s clearly some kind of story there, although Ann isn’t sure she wants to know about it.

Everyone begins talking amongst themselves once again-- Niragi has offered to spin the bottle next, and there’s a small argument breaking out over whether or not the group should continue with their original game of ‘truth or dare’ or pivot to this new one.

And, Ann?

Ann doesn’t stick around to find out.

#writings and such #alice in borderland #alice in borderland netflix #hatter/ann #what a horrifically cursed tag #NOBODY IS SAFE y'all better watch out #ann rizuna #danma takeru #last boss #niragi suguru #takatora samura #aguni morizono #mira kano #chisiya shuntaro #keiichi kuzuryu #fun fact: this takes place before arisu shows up so that's why he's not here

51 notes · View notes

mariesocuniverse · 3 years

Text

Relationships: NCT 127

Maeil (aka Daily)

there are two meanings to their ship name

first is, of course, their names mashed together but the second meanings is much cuter and the one fans use to explain their dynamic

When Mae found out their ship name was Maeil her first reaction was “Oh? Is it because I make sure to let Taeil hyung I love him daily?” while cuddling Taeil on a couch

he’s the same age as Mae’s older brother so she treats him as such

her brother is literally like “Are you replacing me with Taeil? I’m your reall brother!” and she’s just there sweating

part of Taeil’s hype squad and will fight donghyuck for the position of president

like the two were on vlive and spent a good fifteen minutes arguing about their positions in the club Mae won but donghyuck refuses to acknowledge it

he could be doing something simple and you can see Mae in the background with a big smile cheering

he’s also like her personal teddy bear whenever she wants cuddles and/or wants to rest

there are just multiple gifs floating around nct twt of Mae tackling Taeil for a hug or her just clinging to him on a couch because she’s either tired and wants to rest or just wants cuddles

absolutely adores his voice

there are multiple compilations on youtube about all the times Mae compliments Taeil on his voice and him just blushing the whole time

Maenny

was lowkey intimidated bc the man is a fucking tree and basically towers over her

but then he saw him play around with some other trainees and that thought disappeared real quick

he’s more like the protective older brother than like a parent like Doyoung or Taeyong

can and has used his height to his advantage when it comes to scaring people who hurt Mae or do something to make her sad

he was one of the first people who found out about her old company and he looked like he was about to storm their building probably would’ve if it weren’t for Mae

one of the first people she became friends with because he always answered questions she had when she was a trainees

before debut there were times people could see Johnny walk somewhere and Mae is just trailing after him like a lost puppy more like running because the man’s legs are long and he walks faster

there was this one time someone asked where Mae was and Johnny just shuffled to the side to reveal her behind him

his large frame was just big enough to hide her from everyone’s vision unless you walk past the two

you know that one vid of predebut nct performing Under The Sea with Johnny wearing the fish head? Mae was supposed to join him dressed as Ariel but the idea was cut last minute

there was this one time Mae couldn’t see something bc she was too short so Johnny lifted her up and put her on his shoulders

okay enough about Mae’s height

during shows he’s always encouraging Mae to talk more when she seems unsure whether to give her input or not

johnny, after an interviewer asks a question: “what do you think Mae?”

absolutely melts whenever she does aegyo because no matter how old she is he’ll always see her as the cute kid who followed him everywhere

MaeTae

honestly it’s hard to pinpoint where Taeyong’s protective parental energy started getting directed to Mae

like it might’ve been somewhere predebut but she doesnt know when

she’s like 50% sure she just blanked out and suddenly Taeyong appeared in her life scolding her for not taking care of herself

it’s not like she’s complaining abt it she’s really grateful to have someone like him in her life

when her family got worried abt her joining a group filled with guys he personally went to her house and calmly explained how Mae will be taken care of and how the group will make sure that she’ll be safe

first person to know if there’s something between SM and Mae that the other members don’t know about

he was also the first member to know about what happened with Mae and her old company

she knows she can trust him with anything

he found her alone crying in one of the practice rooms and she just poured her heart out to him

Whenever they go places as a large group he looks for Mae first before counting the other members

she got lost once and now he doesnt want her out of his sight for more than five minutes

she got him a “world’s greatest dad” trophy as a joke that he has on a shelf in his room

YuMae

you know how yuta acts with mark and winwin? yeah he does the same for Mae

if he isnt giving a hug to mark he’s all the way across the room with Mae giving her a back hug

Mae: does nothing

Yuta: aigoo look how cute she is :)

she doesnt ignore him tho she just returns the affection

likes to jump on his back for a piggy back ride or just run and jump to give him a hug

there was this one clip that went viral of Yuta talking to someone and he just pauses for a moment before turning around to catch Mae, who seemingly came out of nowhere, into a hug and turned back to his conversation

neither yuta nor the other person seemed fazed so this seemed like a regular occurrence to them

he teaches her japanese!

its beneficial to both of them because Mae can learn and Yuta won’t forget any Japanese while living in Korea :D

really really really loves his smile

like real whipped (A/N i wrote this while watching the under the sea performance and now im going through it)

like she sees him smile and that makes her smile and that makes fans smile

Can and has glared at “fans” and other people who make her uncomfortable whether it be at the airport or during their schedules

There was this one time Mae was walking ahead of him when there were fansites following them and he just pulled her back into his arms because he noticed an anti of hers was nearby

It’s like a lion trying to protect a kitten

2Young

again did not know how Doyoung because like a parent to Mae but she just ended up rolling with it

She just has this aura to her that makes you want to care of her and give her love

whenever they go eat together with the group he always put food on her plate, regardless of whether the managers glare at him or not he glares back anyway so they back off

“doyoung she’s been put on a diet-” “she’s going to eat whether you like it or not”

one time Mae got sick with a fever and he just burst into her room with medicine and soup

if taeyong has the “world’s greatest dad” trophy doyoung has the “world’s greatest mom” trophy that he says he’ll throw it away but has it perched on his desk

Mae’s also one of the members who like to clown him

she’s the one of the reasons he already has gray hairs

Mae has a folder of embarrassing photos of Doyoung’s childhood that his brother sent to her and refuses to delete it

she cant do anything about them tho bc Doyoung got his own folder of babie Mae pics courtesy of Mae’s older brother

Haechan has tried and failed to gain access to either of those folders

MaeHyun

major sibling energy

but not like the bickering kind of energy but more like very soft and uwu

there are a lot of people asking them “are you sure you’re not related?” during interviews and fansigns

Fans are just waiting for the two to do a duet bc come on SM you have a real life Disney prince and princess here

Let Mae be the Jasmine to Jaehyun’s Aladdin and perform A Whole New World together

She likes to poke his dimple

There’s this one vid where Jaehyun and Mae are sitting together and she just pokes his dimple and Jaehyun’s smile gets bigger

joked about if he could let her meet yugyeom and bambam bc of 97line and he just went no <3

when jaehyun was inkigayo’s mc nobody could approach her with the infamous inkigayo sandwich bc she was always with him not like anyone could try considering mae has several bodyguards wherever she goes

you know how jaehyun won the alpaca plushie in nct life? he gave it to mae bc he know how much she loved plushies

Honestly the majority of the plushies in her room were given to her by jaehyun

She has a bear named after him uwu

MaeWoo

Loves the energy he gives and thinks he’s so funny

He never fails to make her laugh whenever she needs cheering up

they used to be shy around each other when he first joined the group but they caught each other having a midnight snack so they just talked at 3am eating ramen until doyoung found them and told them to go to bed

now it’s just tradition for them to go to a convenience store together and eat ramen or whatever snacks they decide to get

nobody is allowed to join them its only a MaeWoo thing

Mae has natural aegyo but Jungwoo has taught her to use it to her advantage which she does but not often

Another one of Mae’s cuddle buddies

She just thinks he looks so soft so she just clings to him whenever he’s nearby

Major uwu energy over here when it comes to the two of them together

idk why but i dont see him as the type to be protective when it comes to her dating

he’s more like

“you dont have a boyfriend yet? damn people dont know what they’re missing”

or on the other side of the spectrum

“good luck to your future boyfriend he’ll need it if he’s gonna date you”

2Ma/MaeKyung

Older brother that doesn’t feel like an older brother

Majority of the time he kinda just feels like they’re the same age or younger so newer fans get shocked when they find out she’s younger

Like there was this one time Johnny the two were playing Smash Bros and Mark was whining because he lost and Mae was jumping in the background cheering it was his fourth loss in a row but he won’t say it

they were kinda awkward around each other at first so johnny literally had to stick them in a room together and didn’t let them leave until they talked to each other

it worked and they just vibed and rambled about different topics like trainee life and what mark’s life in Vancouver was like

speaking of Vancouver

one time during their stay in Vancouver they wanted to have a friend date but he lost her at a mall and took twenty minutes trying to find her until she used the announcement service to call him

he wouldve ask his Vancouver friends to go with them but some of them had a crush on mae so no <3

When she first starting writing songs and her own lyrics she went to Mark first and asked if the lyrics she wrote were good

They were amazing and Mark made sure to tell her that :D

mae’s reaction to his dream graduation was one of the saddest things czennies have seen so when she found out he was coming back she would not let go of him

Literally could not stop smiling whenever mark was with the rest of dream filming for Resonance

It’s just very wholesome and czennies are willing to riot if SM decides to separate them

Maechan

You know how I said Maehyun was the soft and uwu type of siblings? Well Maechan are the bickering type of siblings

You know the ones who like to bicker over minor things but still would protect each other for life

they have so much dirt on each other on trainee days lmao

Haechan to Mae: lmao what a loser

Haechan when someone insults Mae: listen here you little shit

The only person allowed to clown her is him and the rest of NCT

he heard a trainee talk shit about her once and they still can’t look haechan in the eye

he’s only a few months older than her but he uses the “i’m older!” card whenever he can

“i’m older therefore i get to go first” “excuse me sir but you’re only three months older than me” “but im still older”

they fight for the title of the favorite 127 maknae but they both know that can do what they want

Mae is more lenient towards the hyungs during yaja time than haechan is tho so she just vibes whenever they go to scold him when the games over

they do team up a lot so they’re a menace when they do something together

especially in games

their competitive nature plus their brain power together? its over it even started

50% of the time they have to be separated from each other when it comes to choosing teams

the other 50% is someone choosing both of them because they want that easy win

Those two are willing to risk it all even for a bag of chips

#24th member of nct #nct 24th member #nct female oc #nct female addition #nct au #kpop female addition #nct addition #nct dream female addition #nct dream female member #nct 127 female addition #nct 127 female member

153 notes · View notes

momoshin · 3 years

Note

Ryujin fluffy alphebet a-z 🥺🥺

A = Activities (What do they like to do with you? How do you spend your free time together?)

PICNICS! making your own food (or buying it sometimes) and setting a blanket in the middle of a nice park where kids and dogs could be easily spotted. she’ll ask you to read poetry to her, play her guitar for you, you’ll sing together, just two fools in love. also, scrapbooking! it’s something you both discovered you liked doing together very early on in your relationship.

B = Beauty (What do they admire about you? What do they think is your most beautiful feature?)

loves your lips, eyes and waist. she loves kissing you, but just looking at your lips makes her heart race, same with your eyes, she could keep eye contact with you forever, she just loves everything about them. and your waist is her hand’s favorite place, whether you’re sitting or standing, one if not both of her hands will always be on your waist.

C = Comfort (How would they help you when you feel down/have a panic attack etc.?)

ryujin won’t bother to pull you aside, she doesn’t care if there’s anyone around, she will stop what she’s doing once she sees any signs of you struggling and asks if you need a breather or if she can help in any way, if you say no, she will stay by your side and let her hands run up and down your back to help you calm down, will hug you if you let her and tuck her chin on top of your head while humming melodies to you.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

she’s so selfless, even with dates she’s always making sure you’re comfortable with wherever and whatever you’re doing, hands always entangled and she’s always willing to pay for whatever you want

E = Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)

dominant for sure, whether it’d be in bed or not

F = Fights (Would they forgive you easily? What are they like while fighting with you?)

she would hate fighting, the possibility of upsetting you to the point where you’d rather sleep on the couch than with her terrifies her, and as soon as you grab your pillow and a blanket, she grabs your wrist and tries to convince you to stay with her, puppy eyes full of apologies that her words couldnt quite express

G = Gratitude (How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what you are doing for them?)

SO grateful, ryujin is generally grateful for her life, where she is and such, but she always thanks you for doing small things for her, making her breakfast, anything really.

H = Hugs (What is their favorite way to hug and cuddle you?)

she personally loves when you casually come up to her and without interrupting her conversation, press up against her and wrap her arms around your shoulders yourself.

I = Inspiration (Did you change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?)

ryujin definitely holds less grudges ever since she met you, she doesn’t feel the need to see the people who have made her suffer, suffer, she doesn’t feel the need to prove herself to anyone, doesn’t listen to mean comments or people who just want to bring her down.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

mm depends ? she trusts you more than anyone, and she trusts both your friends, so when she gets jealous its more of a “why the fuck is that guy looking at my girlfriend like he wants to eat her” kind of thing, it usually involves someone she’s never seen before, and it leads to her walking over to the two of you and not so subtly placing a hand on your waist, calling you all sorts of nicknames while glaring at them

K = Kisses (Who initiated the first kiss? What kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?)

she initiated the first kiss! she’ll peck your lips so many times in the day but as soon as she has the chance she will pull you to the side and get her well earned dose of kisses. her kisses usually range from short, repeated pecks, they are goofy at times, sensual even, and she finds herself biting your lip gently every once in a while

L = Love Confession (How would they confess to you?)

in bed, the two of you looking at each other silently and then she just says all these things that sounds like she’s proposing because it’s so detailed and you can tell she loves you so much it’s quite inevitable for you to cry or get teary eyed as she talks about everything she loves about how and how good you make her feel

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would your marriage be like?)

Yes but not yet, she would probably propose at a meaningful place for your relationship, and i have this vivid image of her wearing a bodysuit like the one for the gda’s last year for her wedding, she’d let you make the important decisions but would be completely involved whenever you asked for her opinion and would try to help as much as she could so it didn’t all pile up for you.

as for marriage, i think the dynamic would fit you both perfectly, the shiny bands on your hands, loves the way ‘my wife’ slips off her tongue as she introduces you to someone, or whenever someone asks you about each other and uses the ‘your wife’ it just gives you both butterflies all over again.

N = Nicknames (What do they call you?)

baby, angel, my love, short versions of your name sometimes!

O = On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

everyone can notice, it’s like an aura she carries around and she’s instantly bubblier, in situations that maybe would’ve gotten a rise out of her she’s more patient, she’ll be nicer to her members and such,, she makes sure to text you good morning and good night, throughout the day, that she misses you, that she loves you, sends you small details when she can’t make it to deliver them personally, just always reminding you of her appreciation, besides, she never shuts up about you, her members claim are sick and tired of hearing ‘y/n this, y/n that’ but in reality, they love seeing ryujin so happy and loved.

P = Parent (What kind of parent would they be?)

idk if i can see ryujin with kids, but in the chance you do have any, she would be such a cool mom, taking them to her studio just so they could hop around to music while she choreographed something, maybe she has a room for them to play and nap if necessary too, and if you have a boy, she would be his hero literally, he’ll always want to be like her and copy her every move.

Q = Quirk (Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship or a cute quirk they have that many don’t know about)

she’s such a good cuddler/can make people fall asleep so easily, the way she expertly runs her hands through your hair or back lulls you into a deep slumber almost instantly, the kisses she presses on your nose and forehead only helping the matter

R = Romantic (How romantic are they? What would they do to make you happy? Cliché or rather creative?)

ryujin is so romantic in general, she just loves to express how much she loves you and cares for you in more ways than just saying it. and the long-lasting smile on your lips when she susprises you is so worth it too, it can range from bringing home a dish of chocolate covered strawberries to setting up a bath with rose petals and candles, to just taking a drive around the city to a pretty place she heard about, talking softly about everything and nothing

S = Secrets (Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?)

you pretty much share anything, honesty is very important for her and your relationship. plus she enjoys telling you even about the smallest details of her day

T = Thrill (Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?)

she doesn’t need to, ryujin is perfectly happy with your dynamic and so are you, but whenever the topic comes up she’s not opposed!

U = Unbearable (What habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable)

EATING IN BED. i know y’all have seen that livestream of her eating tangerines in bed, sticky, juicy tangerines. so whenever she brings a snack or anything to eat to bed she’s expecting your side eye to what she responds promising to not make a mess and to clean it if she does.

and her, she hates your incredibly weird eating combinations, the fact that you will offer some to her to try too, she finds herself gagging just at the sight or smell and threatening to break up with you for laughing.

V = Videos (Do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

of course she does, like i said, the two of you enjoy scrapbooking, that means making your own scrapbook with your own photos taken by each other or strangers you asked on the street, writing down funny highlights of your dates to remember whenever you go through it. also, she has you as her background, it’s a funny yet endearing sight to see her flaunting the front of her phone to everyone so they would catch a glimpse of you as her wallpaper.

W = Wedding (What is your wedding like?)

so much fun, lots of dancing, kissing, and teasing, specially when it’s time to take your garter off ;)). but the most endearing moment is cutting the cake, it’s funny, nerve-wracking because everyone is looking at you, yet a beautiful memory you’ll hold on to forever as long as the photos capturing the moment.

X = eXtra (What is an interesting fact about them that they’ve only told you?)

maybe that she wants to have a farm at some point in her life

Y = Yearning (How do they cope when they’re missing you?)

she’ll call you, of course, talk to you, but ever since you made her a playlist, songs that reminded you of her, of the two of you, whenever she’s missing you she will listen to it, even if she knows the song letter by letter she will listen to all of them until the pain in her chest dissolves into something lighter. even when she’s sad and with you, she’ll play the songs and lay in your arms, sometimes crying with the soft murmur of your singing in her ear.

Z = ZZZ (What is it like sleeping with them? Do they like to cuddle or do they need space?)

i don’t think she moves at all lmao, like you will find every hair and muscle just the way you last saw it before closing your eyes, most of the time she likes cuddling, i feel like she is a bigger spoon type of person, but she will hide her face in your chest every once in a while to be able to go to sleep.

#ryujin blurb #ryujin headcanon #ryujin !#ryujin x reader #ryujin fluff #ryujin imagine #itzy imagine #itzy imagines #itzy fluff #alphabet #my stuff

122 notes · View notes

purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

Road To Kingdom

The boyz 12th member

Mae’s masterlist

“A summary of Mae during RTK”

a/n: not @/ me using the performance names as historical events. Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open! 🧡

... After the concept meeting for Sword of Victory...

Mae cracked open the door to a practice room, making sure no one was inside before dropping her stuff, as well as her body, on the floor. The lightbulb making it almost impossible to keep her eyes open reminded her that she used to do that during her trainee days.

Here she was again, feeling hopeless like she was going to face the biggest challenge ever. And the girl was sure she wasn’t ready for it.

Minkyung had a problem of self-doubting even though she couldn’t pinpoint it, all the members seemed willing to take on the challenge, yet she felt like she’d be the downfall of the group. And yes, she had a thing for being dramatic as well, that’s why she rested the back of her hand on her forehead and sprawled out her other arm.

The door flung open with mild force, startling her from her thoughts and sending her body into a more normal position. Q entered the room without a word and just laid on the floor next to her. Both members looked at the ceiling deep in thought.

Mae went back to the idea she had during the meeting. Not a particularly bright one, though it did attack the fact she felt like an upcoming burden to the group. Taking a deep breath she mumbled, “I think I should take a hiatus”.

After her words, the room went back to silence. Her heartbeat had increased due to the heaviness of what she had spoken, and looking to the side, she saw Changmin frown.

“Are you sick?” He asked after a few minutes and the girl shook her head. “Physically or mentally unwell? Is there an issue we can fix?”

His questions made her taken back, for Mae it was very clear why her taking a break would be beneficial for the group.

“I’m saying because of the program”

“We’re joining a competition, so you want to drop out?” Changmin sat up confused.

“I’m thinking of the bigger picture. The group will do better if you don’t have to worry about me keeping up with you guys”.

“No, you’re not. I’m sorry, but you’re being selfish now” He chuckled. “We don’t mind if you need to repeat the same move a couple of times extra to understand how it goes. Do you honestly think it’s going to help being one person down?”.

“I figured I wouldn’t be setting you back. It can be stressing sometimes and -” She sat up trying to explain her thoughts, and he shook his head.

“Minkyung, you bring a lot to the team, just because you struggle with something doesn’t mean it’s worth losing everything else. When we were rookies I used to get annoyed because you were so quick to give up. But then you began understanding how you learn and your limits. And even though it takes you a little longer you push yourself. Why did you suddenly come back to assuming you can’t do it?”

“The meeting today. Everyone is preparing a lot, there’s so much thought involved and maybe not pulling it off would mean I failed you guys”

“I’m terrified too,” Changmin nodded, placing a hand on his chest “I mean, did you listen to the stunts they were talking about. My first thought was to run away. But then I remembered we’re here to prove ourselves”

Sighing, Mae looked at him annoyed “You’re a great dancer, and singer and whatever else, you’ll do fine because that’s how your body works”

“And you’re an insane performer” He cut her off with wide eyes. A random giggle left his mouth before he continued “I’m talking about acting and becoming another person on stage, you literally do that in the blink of an eye. This is your chance of growth. Who cares if you pull an all-nighter to get the right angle? When you’re on stage it’s like someone else entirely, and we haven’t even done some crazy concepts like we’re planning on doing”

“If the angles are wrong then we won’t look synchronized” The girl mumbled looking at the big mirror and Q chuckled.

“And that’s why you’re not going to rest until it’s perfect. None of us is going too actually. We’re going in as a team, with all our flaws and strengths”

“It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” She mumbled after a moment of silence. Changmin laughed and added. “I’m scared to death”

… Five hours before Catching Fire…

The last rehearsal before the performance had ended and the group went back to their dressing room. Sitting sideways on the couch, Mae rested her head on her arm and watched some members go get their makeup retouched.

Jacob sat on her side and stared at the girl’s blank face before laughing. “Can you blink, so I know you’re still alive?”

Blinking once, she slowly adverted her gaze to him and bit her lip “This is crazy”

“It’s not as fast-paced as they show it on TV though. At least we have some time to process what’s going on” Jacob shrugged making her narrow her eyes at him “But yeah. It is crazy”

“Sunwoo keeps going on high places. And there’s some acrobatic stuff I’m not sure how it works and-” She kept mumbling like she hadn’t been there for the tiring practices and rehearsals. Laughing Jacob interrupted her by adding.

“And you fake kicked someone”

“And I fake kicked someone” Mae repeated with wide eyes making him laugh and Hyunjae approach them.

“Hey, I’ve been jumping on high places too,” He said defensively making her stare at him and shrugged. Jaehyun laughing before patting her on the back “How about once we get home today you have a really long night to sleep”

“I’m good” Mae shook her head “I’ll sleep but tomorrow don’t let me miss the meetings please”

Agreeing with her, Hyunjae stepped back to the styling session and the girl stood up to use the restroom.

Just as Mae turned around the corner, a faint sound of a violin came from Golden Child’s door. Before she could fully process the song it was playing, the door opened wide showcasing Jangjun.

“Well, do we have a spy among us?” He laughed bowing at her and Mae repeated the gesture a little embarrassed.

“I was just passing by and heard the violin. I didn’t mean to interrupt” She said making an x with her hands.

“Nah, I don’t believe you” He teasingly said and dropped an arm over her shoulder, ultimately bringing her inside the room “So, what did you hear? Are you going to sell this information to your members? And what is it going to be your concept today, I can see the hunger games thing on your shirt, is it like a revolution”

“Uh, I don’t know… Hello” Bowing to the rest of Golden Child, the girl tried to remember what he had first asked her. “I only heard a melody, and don’t worry I won’t spread it around”

“Hyung, I told you not to play it right now” Bomin scoffed to Joochan, who seemed to realize he was still holding out his violin before hiding it on his back.

“But Mae-ssi is a friend, isn’t she? She will hold out the shock factor for us” He laughed making the girl nod and give them a thumbs up. “Do you know how to play it too?”

“I do actually” She laughed and Joochan gestured her to take the instrument “Oh, no it’s fine”

“You heard our song already. At least play for us or tell us something about your stage” Jibeom teased leading her to sigh and take the violin to herself.

Fixing up her posture, Mae quickly played a random song she had learned as a child making the boys cheer.

“Okay, I should be going now,” She said bowing embarrassed by their compliments and Denyeol nodded along. Fist bumping her before raising a finger.

“But, Mae if you could do us a favor” He started grabbing her attention “Please make sure you show you’re surprised”

Laughing she nodded making her way to the door, before leaving she held up her hands with her fists closed “Golden Child fighting!”

“Mae fighting!”

(requested by 🍓🥛 anon)

… Behind the scenes for Heroin…

“Why are we so embarrassing?” Sunwoo giggled and clicked his pen repeatedly. He and Mae were sitting on the same side of the table waiting for Leedo from Oneus to show up for the writing session.

Bouncing her leg, Mae hugged the boy’s arm and looked at the door expectantly, only to get startled by it opening up.

“Hello” The tall boy put his head inside the room and entered it slowly. The three idols greeted each other and sat down still a little awkward from being the first time they truly interacted.

“I got the demo, so we can write the raps to go with it” Leedo said unlocking his phone. A piano melody that would blend in with Sunmi’s Heroin started playing, and Mae quickly unlocked her own device.

Opening a piano app, she waited for the recording to be over before quickly replicating it on her phone in different tempos.

“You picked it up quite fast” Leedo laughed scribbling down on his paper, and she smiled. “Sorry, just a habit before writing. This way we can adjust it as we go”

“No yeah, sure” He cleared his throat and Sunwoo bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

“Anyway, for the lyrics, I was thinking we could talk about becoming an idol”

After finishing up with their rap parts. The three idols made their way up to the practice room where the rest had began working with the choreographer.

“Mae, come here” Juyeon called out as soon as she stepped in the room, so he could run over some parts with her and Ravn. “There’s only actual choreography for you after the last chorus, but we do some kind of puppet thing during your verse”

“My love for this song couldn’t be any bigger” Mae giggled and looked around the room for the camera “Sunmi Sunbaenim, if you’re watching this, let’s be friends”

Laughing, Juyeon pulled out a chair for them to start while saying “Watch out. Taemin Sunbaenim commented on danger, maybe she’ll actually see this”

“Wait, he did” Mae stopped with wide eyes and Juyeon nodded. “Holy sh-”

“Yeah” Laughing he pulled her arm “Just remember this is still a broadcast”

“Honestly, if she ever reaches out let me know. I want to be her friend too” Ravn added making them giggled, and she gave him a positive sign.

“As long as you don’t tell Juyeon, because he’s been censoring me a lot lately”

“Well, we have an agreement”

Sulking, Juyeon added “I don’t see how this is fair but okay”

… 1 minute after Quasi una fantasia …

The members bowed to the staff and extras before slowly stepping away from the stage. Mae could see some of the boys crowding around Juyeon who seemed pretty upset, though she had no idea what was going on.

Holding her side, the girl went behind the boy and gave him a back hug making them waddle together back to the dressing room. Once they were all settled back, she stepped away from the crowd and raised her shirt a bit showcasing a forming bruise right above her waist.

“Crap, how did that happen?” Kevin who looked her way at the right time said under his breath. “You need to ice it, probably"

“I bumped on the corner of the piano," She said recalling the incident. “Hopefully it wasn’t noticeable. The camera wasn’t turned to me anyway”

The one part that had gotten her most nervous during this performance was her piano solo for the climax of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Not only it dictated the rhythm for the first dance break, but it was also challenging for her as she hadn’t played something like this in a while, and it ended a few seconds before her part.

So strategically speaking, she had to run off the instrument as soon as it was done and went back to the center of the performance. Not without hitting her hip against the wood.

“Is it hurting?” He asked while waving for a staff member and asking them for ice.

“It’s starting to. Do you think it’ll leave a big bruise?” Mae shrugged and hissed as the cold hit her warm skin. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on something else “Well, not mentioning everything. How was the performance?”

“Weren’t you there to see it yourself”

“I don’t know. I kind of blackout every time we go on stage” She made him laugh, but her face was dead serious.

“Wait really?”

“Kind of. I can remember it roughly I guess. Today there was so much to focus on that I’m not sure if I was entirely present. I banged my hip and didn't feel it at first for all things”

“Dude, same I guess. I need to lay down and get smushed by ten weighted blankets tonight” Kevin added hugging her on the other side and leading them to the couch.

… 3 days before Checkmate …

“The synchronization feels off” Eric spoke from the huddle of members watching the recording of their practice.

“Mae…” Q started, but before he could finish the girl spoke “Right arm higher. I got it”

“If you got it then why didn’t you do it right away” He turned playfully to her and poked her nose.

Massaging her back, the girl laughed and walked back to her spot next to Haknyeon. The boy dropped his bottle on the floor to help her out “Did you fall on your side?”

“No. I did trip while running from one side to the center, so maybe that was it” She shrugged looking around the room “Nobody is intact”

“Tell me about it” He pouted and called Sangyeon closer. “Hyung, maybe we should work on another part. We’ve been doing this section of the chorus for too long”

“Go talk to the captain, I’m not in charge of that” The leader laughed sending him towards Changmin, Juyeon, and Hyunjae talking to one of the choreographers.

“They would listen if you’re the one asking,” Mae said leaning on his side and Sangyeon nodded.

“Yeah, but I already came all the way over here. I don’t feel like walking back” Sangyeon chuckled, looking to the side where one of the staff members started calling his attention.

“We’ve got the costumes ready if you want to do a rehearsal with them” Looking up at the leader, Mae separated herself from him to run for the stylists while he went to call the other boys.

After the stylists helped her put on her clothes, one of them brought a box and quickly pulled her to the side “I know we’re not doing hair and makeup for today. But I’d figure it’s best for you to have it on for the rehearsal so we can make sure it won’t fall”

“Wow, is she getting a present?” Eric laughed approaching them and the stylist opened the box to reveal a thin black tiara to go along with her outfit.

“The crown itself is one of the props, so we had to make it subtle, but we couldn’t pass away the chance to represent the nickname you were given during the program,” She said helping her adjust the thing on her head and Mae walked to one of the mirrors.

“Wow, thank you so much Unnie,” The girl said checking herself out in the mirror “My face looks dead but damn this is pretty” She added making Eric and New, who also had joined them, laugh.

“You know, during a chess game, the Queen is one of the main pieces” She turned around to them holding a hand to her chest and a teasing expression “Thank goodness we didn’t go with a narrative that would give me that role because I’d crumble under the pressure”

“Only for the first week, then it would quickly get to your head” Chanhee scoffed patting her on the back and making her giggle. Eric chuckled as well and urged them outside “Let’s go work, so we can get Kingdom’s lost princess back to her place”

“Mock me as you want, I never asked for the nickname”

124 notes · View notes

cabinofimagines · 3 years

Text

Reyna’s ABCs

A/N: Guys I’m so in love with Reyna -Danny

Request: Hey! Can I request an ABC list for Reyna? Idk if they're only for the 7 and if so, sorry for wasting your time. Have a great day! // Can you please do Reyna ABC’s? I can never find Reyna content // Reyna ABC’s please?

Words: 1,370

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

I see Reyna as the kind of gal who would spoil you. Just name it. Whatever it is you wanna do she’s in, she’s got you, food? Movies? Don’t worry babe she already has five places on her list that she’s sure you’ll love

Beauty - What do they admire in their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

She really likes your eyes and it’s going to sound kinda cheesy but she’s also a big fan of you’re personality and sense of humor, she just can’t get enough of you

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

She’s a natural leader, therefore, she knows exactly what to do to get you back on your feet, she’s learnt to read you like a pro and know exactly the kind of stuff that will keep you going. She might even use a bit of her power to give you the strenght to finish your day and then cuddle with you for the rest of the night.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

She sees a house on some place warm, probably a bunch of dogs, a life when you two can relish on being together and have nothing to worry about or feel ashamed of, she sees a quiet life, where you are her favourite constant.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Oh man, oh shit, Reyna tends to be controlling even without trying, it’s just the power she carries in her, you know? She definitely is the dominant one, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t melt at the sight of you.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

It’s hard for her to stop being angry, sometimes turns brutally cold and distant, but she always apologizes properly, or if it’s you who messed up, she always treats you gently afterwards so you know she still loves you

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Reyna’s had a rough life, she might get distracted in the heat of the moment but at the end of the day she’s always there kissing you good night and reminding you how special you are in her life. She never stops trying.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

When it comes to her “normal” life Reyna is an open book after a while of dating you, however, I think she prefers to keep her work to herself and forget about it while she’s with you.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

She’s a bit more chill after knowing you, she doesn’t feel as pressured as before to be perfect and that’s a huge relief to her. You’ve changed too, became a bit more daring and just a tad sporty, but really, Reyna is better with the whole “healthy stuff”

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Nah man, perhaps during the whole ‘are we flirting, do they like me?’ part she was jealous of random people approaching you and making you laugh, but once you start dating she knows she’s got you and no one can change that. (Unless you decide otherwise, ofc)

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

REYNA IS SUCH A GOOD KISSER OMG I BEG YOU MA’AM JUST ONE SMOOCH WOULD BE ENOUGH

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Probably came out stiff and awkward but she asked you out in one try. Her shoulders relaxed instantly the moment you smiled and said yes. She was so scared but won’t admit it lmao

Memory - What’s their favourite memory together?

Probably the first time you told her you love her. She felt overwhelmed and just couldn’t believe what you said until you repeated like five times. That’s when people started to say her eyes had a new brightness in them.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

“Amor” probably, “sweetheart” when she’s teasing.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

No one had a fucking clue she liked you until suddenly you two are dating and everyone was like ??? It’s not like he ever tried to hide it though, it’s more on her actions or words that you can really tell she likes someone.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Not that she’s shy, she just doesn’t like others around when she’s being all cute with her partner. She likes to have privacy, feels that way it feels more special when she gets to kiss you.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Reyna CAN DANCE. She’s latina, she was born with them good steps. Definitely made you fall for her during a night out dancing in the middle of the street.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

I think she’s the kind to be ‘I worship you’ about her s/o, treats you like a unique treasure and at the same time it’s like she’s just hanging out with her best friend. Funny combination but it works perfectly.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

She’s a ride or die. Will judge you a bit if your decisions feel a tad impulsive or not like something you would do on a normal day. Probably will interrogate you as to why you decide to do something that feels too rash. However, if you manage to prove you’re not crazy lmao, she’s 100% there to support you.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

I feel like we’re answering this the same way with everyone but tbh that’s demigods for you lmao they really just want a break. Maybe she likes to plan a few trips from time to time just to take you to meet places, but most of the year is spent in a comfortable, calming routine.

Understanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Feelings are a tricky thing for her, but she’s memorized every little thing about you, so all she has to do is ask “how are you feeling?” and “can i help you?” and she’ll know how to procceed right after you give her an answer. But communication is key, Reyna isn’t a mind reader and she will need you to help her a bit.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Very important. You’re her family now.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Reyna’s favourite thing to do when she’s feeling down is lay her head on your lap and let you braid her hair while watching shitty actions movies.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

I’d say she likes it a healthy amount, but not very affectionate in public unless you ask for it.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

She pours herself in her wrk and tries not to get too worry, you can take care of yourself and she’ll see you soon, that’s her mantra.

Zeal - are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

She’s prepared to do sacrificies, but definitely not the kind who would throw away everything just to keep you happy, her opinion is that a healthy relationship should meet half-way.

Taglist: @beneaththeiceandsnow @bandshirts-andbooks @smileitsisa

#Danny's writing #valentines 2021 #valentines day #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna x reader #hoo imagine #pjo fanfic

122 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 3 years

Note

HC: Liz and Casey on a weekend getaway? 😁

Both Liz and Casey are so heavily buried in work constantly that they both kind of forget about vacations, about time off, about anything but winning cases and putting perps away.

But Liz is soft, and she loves Casey. Even more so, she sees a lot of herself in Casey. She was a young, ferocious attorney once and knows exactly how easy it is to bury yourself in work and doesn’t want Casey to become as bitter and stressed as she is.

Which is exactly why when Casey comes home frustrated, basically in tears over her current case, not wanting to talk about it or deal with anything, that Liz lets her have her alone time. She lets her run off to the batting cage to get her anger out, and when she’s home and out of the shower, Elizabeth hands her a glass of scotch, guiding her to the couch, wrapping an arm around her.

Elizabeth presses a soft kiss to Casey’s head, reminding her that she’s loved, that she’s appreciated, and that she’s incredible at her job.

It’s once silence takes over the room that Liz speaks again, saying she wants to take Casey out to the Hampton’s the coming weekend. Casey of course declines, but liz is insistent, she wants Casey to know that she’s taken care of and loved and that she deserves this weekend away.

Casey is surprised at the vastness of Liz’s Hampton’s house, but makes herself at home quickly, much to Liz’s pleasure. Liz just wants Casey to relax, to forget about the bullshit going on back in the city and she had no idea a weekend like this would be as beneficial as it was.

Casey’s eager to get into the ocean, whether she’s wading, swimming, surfing, or whatever, she’s happily laughing and forgets about everything else when she’s in the ocean. Liz obviously watches from the beach, or from a yacht, a smile on her face because Casey is happy.

Liz specifically likes it at the end of the night when Casey snuggles deep in her arms, letting the older woman press kisses to her head, she always thanks her, letting her know how much she loves her.

During the other days, Elizabeth shows Casey off around the seaside town, she takes Casey to her favourite bistros, her favourite little mom and pop shops to get the best local dishes, candies, food and the like.

Casey loves it. It’s when Liz does things like this that she realizes just how much the older woman loves her. Liz is so open to her and sharing her private life and moments, her favourite things with the redhead that it just solidifies their relationship even more.

When they get back to New York Casey curls into Liz’s side on the couch, humming in satisfaction at being buried in her arms once again, and that is when she murmurs that she had such a wonderful time, that she would love to take more vacations with Liz

And that’s when Liz laughs softly, and makes the promise that she’ll take Casey on a yearly vacation to wherever she wants around the world, ,letting her have the best time ever.

#elizabeth donnelly #casey novak #novelly #elizabeth donnelly x casey novak

36 notes · View notes

bybdolan · 3 years

Text

ANYTHING THEY WANT TO HEAR [based on cowboy like me by Taylor Swift and this edit] Word Count: 4225 ; Rating: T+ ; TW: slight mention of corruption of minors ; AO3 PLAYLIST

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.” “What do you mean?” “I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.” He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

read below the cut.

“May I have this dance?”

His voice is dark and low in all the right ways and for a moment Isis is almost lured into his sweet web, but then she remembers how he talked to the old lady with the sapphire ring earlier and she knows that he wants something from her she isn't willing to give him. So instead of answering, she lazily stretches her back like a cat in the sun and takes another sip of her champagne.

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” she replies after a while, and it's almost a bored sigh.

He laughs and exposes a perfect row of white teeth. “Cynical, aren't we?”

“Takes one to know one.”

Her eyes scan the crowd and she catches the eye of a man who is looking at her over the shoulder of the woman Isis assumes is his wife. Isis looks away. This is only her second day here. She has to give the men time to take her in first, let them see her exit the pool in her wet swimsuit and cross her long legs while waiting at the bar; so when they finally get to undress her, it feels like a relief, like unwrapping a gift you have been waiting for. It makes them feel special, to think that they of all people charmed her. Isis knows that men like that.

“You know that he's a married man?”

Isis smiles. “Hasn't stopped me before. It's their choice, not mine.”

She turns back to the man beside her. He's very handsome, all dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. There's something rugged about him, as if he was a statue somebody had left unfinished, and Isis has the sudden urge to put her hand on his cheek and feel the roughness of his beard against her palm.

He reaches out his hand and Isis takes it. His long slender fingers wrap tightly around hers.

“Jack. Nice to meet you.”

“Isis.”

“Did your parents give you that name?”, he asks, and she laughs and shakes her head.

“No. I did.”

“What's your real name, then?” He lowers his voice and Isis has to smile because she knows what he is trying to do. There's a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes when she doesn't lean in to hear him better.

“It was a church name. A good church name for a good church girl.” She enjoys the sight of Jack's white-teethed grin for a quick second before she turns away.

“I'm sure that's what you are,” Jack says, his voice still low and dark, and it sends shivers down her spine. He's good. If she talks to him for too long, he might get her where he wants her, but Isis isn't willing to give him that satisfaction. So she puts her now empty champagne flute on a tray a waiter carries past, rolls her shoulders in a way she knows makes her shoulder blades look good, and gives him an apologetic smile that he will know is fake.

“Well, Jack, it was nice meeting you, but good girls like me shouldn't talk to young men for too long. It gives them ideas.”

Her high heels are softly clicking on the tennis court floor as she is walking away and she can tell that Jack is looking at the silky skin of her back, exposed by her sequined gown, and for once she actually feels good about it.

The gentle wind that blows across the town square tugs at Isis' napkin and her blouse, but she doesn't mind it because the breeze is making the heavy heat slightly more bearable. Jack is sitting across from her, Aviator sunglasses up in his dark curls, head thrown back as he enjoys the cool air.

“Had I known how awful this heat would be, I would have gone to England,” he groans, and Isis smiles.

“I personally prefer sunshine over constant rain, but that might just be me.”

“Of course you do.” He grins. “It allows you to wear the skimpy bathing suits you love so much.”

Isis rolls her eyes at him over the rim of her sunglasses, but she doesn't actually mean it. “If you don't like me doing that, you have done a very bad job at showing it.”

Jack chuckles and looks up into the blue sky again.

They have been spending some time together these past weeks. It's beneficial to both of them to be seen together occasionally, in situations that suggest they are romantically involved. When Isis goes out with an older man later in the day, his ego is soothed by the impression that somehow, Isis chose him over Jack, and it's the same with the ladies that Jack dines with. Isis is aware of the way they look at her. Most with jealousy, some with desire. Isis feels sorry for the latter.

Of course they sleep together sometimes, secretly, and Jack always sneaks out of Isis' room when they are done, leaving her alone in the big, cold bed. She enjoys the arrangement, it is nice to do something just for her own pleasure, without submitting to others' wishes or expecting monetary gain from it. As much as they publicly exploit their sympathy for one another, their friendship – though Isis wouldn't necessarily call it that – is genuine.

“Do you think that store over there is selling an English newspaper?” Jack asks and Isis follows his eyes to the small shop across the square. She shakes her head.

“I doubt it. But why don't you just wait until we get new ones at the hotel?”

Jack shrugs.

Every week or so, there is a fresh stack of newspapers on the receptionist's desk, and Jack is always the first to buy one. He spends the entire morning standing around somewhere, hair dishevelled, completely engulfed in whatever news he's reading, and Isis knows he actually cares about the articles because there is a spark in his eyes that isn't there when he is reading Albert Camus by the pool.

“Why does it interest you so much?” She cocks her head to the side and drinks her Espresso.

“Because I care about what's going on in the world,” he replies, “I actually wanted to be a journalist when I was younger.”

It surprises Isis. For some reason, she automatically assumed Jack was like her, with no aspirations besides getting the most out of what they were doing.

“Is that why you started doing this?” She makes a vague gesture with her hand. “To get money for college?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I wouldn't sit here with you if that was the case.”

“Then what was the reason?” She doesn't know why it suddenly interests her so much.

“I didn't want to go to war.” There's a moment of silence. “All my friends got their drafting letters and none of their weird tricks to get out of it worked, so I figured the only way to not get shipped to Vietnam if my number was pulled was bribing the officers. And since I didn't have the money myself, I had to find somebody to pay for me.” He picks up his coffee cup, but instead of drinking he just stares at the dark liquid. “I borrowed a suit and snuck into the fanciest bar in town and somehow managed to get this widow – her name was Rebekah – wrapped around my finger. When my letter came, she gave the officer a thousand bucks to let me off the hook. I couldn't fuck her while being dead in the jungle, after all.”

The silence between them suddenly feels as heavy as the heat. Jack finally drinks his coffee, then his eyes go to Isis.

“What about you?” he asks. She looks away, gaze fixed on the child playing with a stray cat by the fountain in the middle of the square.

“I just wanted pretty dresses,” she says plainly. “My parents were very religious in an almost puritan way, my sisters and I weren't allowed to do anything that was deemed a distraction from our faith. I hated it. I wanted to be like the other girls in school. So whenever I could, I would take the bus into town and look at the dresses in the shop windows or flip through every fashion magazine I saw. And one day this guy came up to me in the streets and told me he'd buy me the dress I was looking at if I did a little favor for him.” Isis looks back at Jack, eyes all cold and icy through her tinted glasses. She puts her chin up, even after all those years. “I wore that dress like an armor. I felt like fucking Joan Of Arc. It was a fuck you to my parents and my church and my teachers and everybody else who thought they could control what I wanted in life.”

The wind blows her hair into her face. It sticks to her cheeks and her lipstick and Isis combs it back into place with her fingers angrily. It's an unusually rough motion for her.

“And then I just went with it, I guess. Always on the lookout for men who were willing to pay for my attention. It's so easy, you just look pretty and tell them anything they want to hear and that's it.”

Jack nods slowly, fingers toying with the white paper napkin tucked under his cup. “That's one of the reasons I didn't go to college with the money I made. I was scared of not being any good.”

Isis looks at him and her features soften. “That's a stupid reason for not trying.”

Jack gives her a crooked grin. “I guess.”

He looks at his hands and then at his wristwatch and makes a face. “Fuck, I've got to get going.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Her choice of words makes him laugh. “Yes. The blonde lady who always carries those expensive leather handbags, I'm sure you know her.”

Isis nods. “She looked at me this morning when I sat with you during breakfast and I'm surprised I didn't drop dead right then and there.”

Jack laughs again and runs his fingers through his hair. “She's the jealous type. I'm sure she'll be willing to do me a lot of favors if it only means I won't look at you for a few days.”

“You won't manage that.”

“Maybe.”

They both grin.

“If you are planning on ignoring me,” she says, “You should at least pay for my coffee.”

He shrugs. “I guess it would be the nice thing to do. But let it be known that I always pay for your food.”

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.”

He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

“A lot of people don't think like that.” She looks back at the child near the fountain. The stray cat is gone. She feels a tightness in her throat. “So it would be nice if you could pay for my coffee.” Her voice is a little shaky and she hates it.

Jack silently pulls his wallet from his pocket and puts a bill on the table.

“Thank you,” she says, without looking at him.

He stands up and nods his head as a good-bye.

Isis feels terribly embarrassed and uncomfortably close to him for reasons she can't quite explain, and when she watches him walk to the brown Chrysler he parked in one of the neatly marked spots on the other side of the town square, she has the urge to say something that will make him forget about how unusual this conversation was for them.

“You're really just in this for the fancy cars, aren't you?”

It's a stupid thing to say, now that she knows how untrue it is, but she hopes it's shallow enough to erase what they just shared and make them go back to the sly back-and-forth they've gotten so used to, always vague enough to be fun.

There is relief in his laugh that warmly bounces off the buildings and echoes over the piazza. He throws up his hands in an almost triumphant gesture.

“Damn right I am!"

And that's how Isis knows everything is fine between them. The smile eases its way onto her face without her noticing at first, but when she feels the warmth in her cheeks and in her gut, she bites her lip to make it stop.

Five weeks after his arrival in Italy, Jack gets sick. Isis blames it on a bad oyster, which makes him laugh because she says it in a way that allows no discussion and reminds him of his mother. There are flowers in his hotel room with Get Well Soon!-cards written in fancy ink, but it's Isis who goes to the pharmacy to buy him medicine using her broken Italian, it's Isis who comes to air out his room when he's too tired to leave the bed, and it's Isis who wipes the sweat off his forehead and reassuringly runs her fingers through his greasy hair.

She knows she has better things to do than sitting by his bed and conversing about the topics they only educated themselves about to appeal to the rich folk. The man she has slept with for the past two weeks has flown back to England (not without declaring his love for her in the form of a letter and a diamond necklace), and there are new visitors at the hotel who look at Isis the way she wants them to look at her, and she should be by the pool with her head thrown back and legs curved, or at the bar, touching their shoulders while laughing at the stories they tell. Instead, she is sitting on the cushioned chair in Jack's room with her legs comfortably stretched out, arguing about whether or not Andy Warhol is any good. Sometimes it scares her how much she enjoys his company. She'd rather spend the days with him than alone in her room, she doesn't remember the last time she felt like that about another person.

Her visits get rarer and shorter once Jack gets better and Isis finds a man that takes her to fancy restaurants and buys her flowy dresses in the shops in town, but she makes sure to see Jack at least every other day. One time, as she is about to leave, he tells her to wait and rummages through his bedside table until he pulls out the sapphire ring she had seen on the hand of the lady at the tennis court dance, all those weeks ago.

“For you,” he says, “As a thank you for your time and care.”

When Isis hesitates he cocks his head to the side. "I won't miss it. Blue is more of your color anyway."

Isis lets him slide the ring on her pointer finger and looks at how the blue stone catches the light.

“I'm surprised you actually scored that lady,” she says softly, “I would have bet she wasn't interested in you.”

It's not what she actually wanted to say and they both know it, but they let it slide, and Isis manages to hide how fast her heart is beating until she is alone in the hallway and presses her palm to her chest.

“Do you want me to light that cigarette for you, sweetheart?”

Isis nods and leans over so James can reach the tip of her cigarette with his lighter. She knows that her pose allows him a good look down her dress, and she can tell that he enjoys it.

“Thank you,” she says after her first exhale. The smoke drifts away over the town. The restaurant they are at has a nice view, but maybe she just thinks that because when she looks at the city, she doesn't have to look at James.

It's not that he is ugly – he still has a lot of thick brown hair and some of the bluest eyes Isis has ever seen – but she can't look at him without thinking about his wife, Elizabeth, who had left the hotel last week because she missed their children back home.

Usually, Isis doesn't care about the casualties of her actions, but guilt has slipped into her mind over the course of the past few days. When she told Jack about it, he just shrugged and said he doesn't care, he knows how these people would treat him if he wasn't staying at their hotel but working in his father's garage, and while Isis understands him, her skin is still the same color as theirs and so it’s not her anger to share. Besides, she doesn't feel bad for the men she lies to about her feelings, she feels bad for their wives.

She has never thought much about what it must feel like for them, to be betrayed by the ones they've sworn to dedicate their lives to, be hurt and discarded by the ones they love. Love had been a commodity to Isis, as long as she can remember, and it worries her that the term has started to feel more and more like the vague idea of ‘sacrifice’ she has read about in countless romance novels. It had always seemed so foreign to her, but she kind of understands it now.

“Is there something wrong?” asks James and Isis smiles sweetly and shakes her head. Her mind is trying to replicate how it had felt when Jack kissed her temple last week, when she asked him to stay after they had slept together. Of course he left anyway, but the tenderness of his goodbye kiss made Isis so happy that it frightened her.

“I'm just admiring the view.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and tilts her head in a way that shows off her long, pale neck.

James looks at her and grins. “So am I.”

It takes everything in Isis not to roll her eyes. Instead, she throws her head back with a laugh that bubbles like champagne, covers her mouth with her one hand and puts the other one on James'.

“Oh, stop it, Jac– James!”

The C is a full stop in her throat and she can tell by the look on James' face that he heard it. She intertwines her fingers with his and strokes his thumb to make him forget.

“I’m going back to San Francisco.”

“When?”

“In two days.”

“Why?”

Jack shrugs. “I’m bored of this place. These people. And the heat.”

Isis nods. She knows she would feel the same if it wasn’t for him, but it still feels like he punched her in the gut. She’s not reason enough to stay.

“I just felt like you should know,” he says when Isis doesn’t respond, and she nods again.

“Thank you for telling me.”

There is an uncomfortable silence. Isis doesn’t know what else to tell him, except for the truth: “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“I’m going to miss you, too.” She can tell that this isn’t all that he wants to say, but he stays silent after finishing his sentence and she wants to grab him by the collar of his stupid yellow shirt and call him a fucking coward. But she doesn’t. Instead, she grabs her book from the table next to her and tells Jack that she has to get ready for dinner.

When he knocks on her door hours later and asks her why she wasn’t at the dining hall, she tells him a lie.

“Come to L.A. with me.” The words fall from her lips carelessly. She had a plan on how to ask him, but then the sunlight made his skin glow even more than usual and suddenly, her words were stronger than her self-control.

“What?” Jack turns around, the look in his eyes somewhere between bewildered surprise and a deep sadness Isis wasn't expecting.

“I'm serious,” she says, voice shaking, “Come to L.A. with me. Or I come to San Francisco with you. I don't care.” She presses her hands into the wall behind her back. “We can live together and sell the other apartment so you can pay for college and finally become a journalist, and I'm sure that I'd find something to do, too, and –”

“Isis,” he interrupts her, and his voice is so gentle that it breaks her heart, “I... Why?”

She shrugs and looks at the shiny tiles on the floor. “I like being around you. And I want you to like me, even though there's nothing in it for me. I've never felt that way about anybody before I met you. And I don't want it to go away.” Her back is pressed against the wall so tightly by now that she feels like the wallpaper is going to swallow her. She doesn't dare to look at Jack.

There is a long moment of silence. Jack looks at his suitcase and sighs. His left thumb is pressed into the palm of his right hand, as if to distract him from pain somewhere else in his body.

“Do you think we can do this?”

It's not a no. Isis feels like she could cry.

“Maybe. I don't know.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“But what if we fail?” He turns to her and his eyes are filled with worry. “We both haven't done anything besides this in our lives. Do you really think we can just stop?”

“That's a stupid reason for not trying.” She puts her chin up. “The fear of failure. I've told you that before.”

He exhales and his shoulders drop.

“My god, Jack, look at us. Have we ever failed before?”

“This is different.”

“But it's still us.” Her hands are numb by now from being trapped between her back and the wall, but she doesn't care. She feels the same way she felt as a young girl, standing in front of the storefront windows, so determined to get what she wanted.

Jack looks very lost in the middle of his room. It's the first time Isis notices how big it is. “I'm just scared of hurting you,” he says softly.

“The fact that you care is enough for me.”

There's a short moment where neither of them move, as if they were frozen in time. Jack looks past Isis through the window, out into the sky, then back at her. She holds his gaze. She wants this. She wants him. So much that it’s clawing at her from the inside. He should know that.

Finally, slowly, he closes the space between them, wraps his arms around her waist and puts his head on her shoulder. He pulls her away from the wall and Isis feels the blood rush back into her hands. She buries her fingers in his hair. Jack softly rocks her from side to side as if she was a child.

“You know, I've always wanted to go to L.A.,” he murmurs into her neck and his words are echoing in her bones, “The palm trees look very pretty.”

“They are,” she whispers, “They are.”

“I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable these seats are.”

Jack chuckles beside her. “You've been in Italy for too long.”

Isis sighs. “Yes.”

She feels her body vibrate as the plane starts to drive. It will take them to Rome, from there, they will go to Los Angeles. Her stomach starts to twitch, like it always does during takeoff, but there is more to her anxiety today. The rattling of the tires on the concrete and the roaring of the engines drown out her thoughts. She closes her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jack's voice is as soft as ever and yet she understands him just fine.

“I'm nervous,” she replies.

“Is it because of the plane?”

Isis opens her eyes and smiles at him. It's an unsure smile, flickering somewhere between excitement and fear. She can tell from the look in his eyes that he understands what she is trying to tell him.

He reaches for her hand and starts drawing small circles on her skin with his thumb. The plane lifts off and suddenly everything feels very still and quiet, despite the engines’ constant roar.

Jack's thumb rests on the sapphire ring on her pointer finger.

“I can't believe you're actually wearing it,” he murmurs, “Considering how it came into my possession.”

Isis puts her head on his shoulder. “It was the first gift you ever gave me. It's mine now. It doesn't matter how you got it.”

Jack laces their fingers together and kisses her forehead. Then he turns his head back to the window and they both watch as the plane breaks through the clouds, into the bright sky.

#amy writes #cowboy like me #evermore #taylor swift #now excuse me for i have to scream #ahhh #i can't believe this is my first fully finished story in ages #i'm :')#i love writing #and i'm pretty proud of this #also: fun cameos by other everlore characters #i am a james is a girl truther but :/ i discarded this for this story. sorry queen <3 #this turned out more cruel summer i love you ain't that the worst thing you ever heard than intended #but alas #i'll stop rambling now #have fun!#tw sex mention #tw smoking

132 notes · View notes

dumbfuck-mojave · 3 years

Text

BUFFY SUMMERS OCD HEADCANONS

Since the media gives me no good/accurate characters with OCD or any character behavior I could relate to my OCD as easily as let’s say, ADHD, I present:

Buffy Summers OCD Headcanons that have no root in canon or within canon storyline, they’re just my habits. Now rewritten to not be a mess xoxo. Based on an anon I sent @prose-for-hire awhile back so if you reading this think it’s familiar that might be why.

I have enormous doubt she openly accepted it, even if she knew what it was and that she had it. I’ve had enough popular people pointing things out to know that she would, especially considering her popular status at her old school, consider it not normal/weird and find ways to hide it even if it caused discomfort. The whole start of the Slayer business and then moving to Sunnydale makes it so much worse.

There was a moment when she was walking to the library and, thinking she was alone, did one of her two-hand rituals. Walking into the library, she uses her left hand first to touch and open the door, then pauses and touches the other side with her right hand once she gets into the room. Sometimes it has to be both hands on the same side of the door, sometimes it’s opposite hands on opposite sides. Giles walks out of his office and sees her doing it. He also saw the time she had to hold herself back from touching Xander’s right shoulder with both hands after she accidentally brushed it because touching people constantly and randomly gives off red flags. She tries to bail once she notices but he makes her sit down and they have a long discussion and he makes her feel really comfortable and secure.

To the surprise of literally everyone, Cordelia is actually super understanding?? Like everyone is shocked when she butts in to talk about it.

Cordelia also has OCD, but is in near complete control of it, being able to play off any “mistakes” in public. But in the privacy of her home, she’s flipping her bedroom lightswitch off and on about 30 times to deplete the awful feeling in her bones. Her parents don’t really care, she’s on her own and tells Buffy tips on how to reign any compulsions in. Is it exactly healthy? No.

She’s also not playing with making jokes about it. Xander meant no harm, but she just about hit him for joking about it one day. Scoffs when she sees holiday shirts making puns about it. She’ll cut a bitch and clean the knife ‘till spotless, don’t test her.

Moving onto shorter ones:

Hours of getting frustrated carving stakes because there needs to be a certain number of carves/whittles into the wood but the stake is getting too thin and she starts crying.

Willow quickly picked up on her number patterns and whenever they have a snack break she’ll get Buffy two cookies/fruit snacks/energy bars/etc. Because Buffy feels more comfortable eating small, quick foods in pairs.

Following up on the ‘It gets worse” comment: Her obsessive thoughts are the worst, by far. It was already getting bad before everything happened but with all the shit she’s gone through, it creates more demented and dark scenarios that she can’t get it of her head. Doesn’t really help with self-esteem, even if she knows they aren’t her genuine thoughts.

Certain objects stay in certain rooms. If that object is taken out of said room, or just gets dirty/feels dirty to her, it will be wiped down.

Cares wet wipes around which is greatly beneficial to everyone because they’re dealing with gross shit 24/7.

Oz was down with whatever. His hi-fives are always guaranteed to be longer because he holds out one of his hands longer so she can touch it with both hands or holds out both hands so she can touch them with one. Or both. Whatever she needs that day. Very understanding.

(Happy to say that is based on a guy I know. Even if I don’t see him often it’s nice to know people outside my close circle are accepting.)

Tara does it too! Buffy actually went to do it automatically one time when she touched Tara, but hesitated and backtracked. Tara noticed and signaled for her to do it, smiling. They get along quite well, Tara is very supportive and does a lot of research on it, as most of the other Scoobies do.

Xander doesn’t do outside research, whenever he’s curious he asks Buffy directly. He’s trying, that’s what matters.

Poor Buffy is screaming internally everyday because of how careless people are with touching stuff. Wash your hands, you filthy animals.

That’s it! I hope you enjoyed? Yeah, I guess. Whether you have OCD or not. Remember to be understanding and accepting, peace out ✌️.

37 notes · View notes

mystic-kitten-writer · 4 years

Note

Girl my period just started😭 i have a question how is zuko when its yues time of the month?

Anonymous said:

How would Zuko act when Yue has got her period? I mean he's a human heater and that's undoubtedly beneficial. Just imagine them laying in bed and Zuko putting his palm over her stomach to ease the pain.😢

Enjoy~! 😚

AU: Limerence

Pairing: Zuko x Fem. OC (Ying Yue Jiang)

Masterlist

~ Fire Lord Zuko ~

“Baby?” I groggily groaned, my fingers slipping from Yue’s body as she squirmed in my grasp. The sensation of her back pressed against my chest disappeared, her legs untangling from mine, causing the blankets to shift. What in the world is she doing?

Even with closed eyes, I could tell the sun had yet to rise, mind waving back and forth between reality and dreaming. But the tiny whine that left Yue’s lips, her voice higher in tone than usual as she gently gripped my arms – pushing them away.

“It’s okay, Zuko. Bathroom.” Yue whispered, but no matter how unconscious I was, I could tell by her voice alone, almost breathless, that something was wrong. Tiredly, I found myself sneaking a peek, eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness of the room.

The coolness of her body left my touch ultimately, watching as her shadow sat upwards, her hair tickling my nose in the process. I yawned, blinking a few times to clear my vision. Yue’s hand was placed over her pelvis, rubbing the area. Her shoulders slumped, wincing quietly – pain.

Instinctively I found my body lifting, whatever blankets that covered us slipping.

“Babe-” I started, but at the sound of my voice, Yue’s body perked, the moonlight highlighting her expression. A tiny smile painted her face; cheeks flushed pink as she spoke, “I’m okay; I just really need to go.”

The smile that Yue bore at the moment was not the smile that I loved. It failed to reach her glistening eyes, and I saw the way she tried, terribly might I add, at hiding the sudden intake of air as another wave of discomfort hit her.

And they say I’m stubborn.

Effortlessly, I rose my hand, flicking my fingers as the candles by my nightstand came to life. The warmth of the flame cast a dim glow, Yue whispering a faint thank you and as she weakly crawled out of bed. Every movement of hers seemed sluggish, spotting how she bit her lip.

“I’ll be waiting, my love,” I whispered, and with that simple statement, Yue staggered to the bathroom, her hands balled into fists.

The moment the bathroom door shut behind her, I found my feet swinging over the edge of the bed, running my hands through my hair. How dumb does she think I am? As if I wouldn’t know by now. I snorted, scratching my head as my feet tapped against the floor.

Not bothering to grab my robe, pants lowly hanging on my hips, I walked to the bedroom doors. I opened them slightly, the candlelight from the hallway seeping into the room, and for a moment, I shut my eyes – the sudden luminosity a bit too much to handle at once.

The guards that stood shifted on their heels, looks of surprise etched on their faces as I leaned against the doorframe.

“Fire Lord Zuko- is everything alright?”

I nodded, rubbing my eyes tiredly, “Yes, but may I request a favour?”

“Anything.” The guards quickly responded, and I shot them a tired smile.

“Can a cook staff send over a plate of brownies, with a soothing tea for pain? The faster it arrives, the better.”

Their expressions softened, seemingly catching on, “Will do.”

“Thank you; you may knock and enter as you please, I’ll be waiting,” I spoke, before stepping back into the room, softly shutting the doors, the light from outside vanishing.

Sweets and painkillers, check.

Next, I need-

I found myself waltzing to the trunk that rested at the corner of our bedroom, my fingers gripping the edge of the lid. The hinges creaked as I opened it, the very thing I was looking for rested on top, neatly folded.

I reached forward, sweeping against the white fur of the tiny blanket, before letting the chest shut close. It was old, one of the sheets Yue brought from the Southern Water Tribe. But despite the frayed edges from the passing years, it wasn’t uncommon to see Yue happily snuggled with it, especially during moments like these. My sentimental baby.

“Zuko?” a tiny voice perked from behind.

My eyes widen, looking over my shoulder to see Yue standing in front of the bathroom, sporting the cutest of pouts. No longer half asleep, I could take in the current appearance of Yue, heart beating.

Yue really was adorable.

The way she sleepily rubbed her amber eyes, hair messy and the ruby coloured shirt she stole from me practically drowning her figure. But despite her frazzled appearance, she looked nothing short of gorgeous.

“What are you doing?” Yue whispered again, and as much as I could stare at Yue, appreciating her beauty, I saw her whimper in pain, her hands falling over her stomach.

I smugly rose the white blanket in my hand, and Yue looked surprised, “How did you-”

“Know that you just got your period?” I grumbled, unfolding the blanket.

Yue bashfully nodded, taking a step closer. “Please don’t tell me I leaked or something. I’m so sorry for causing you trouble-” Yue blurted, panic seeping in, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her.

She’ll never learn.

“You didn’t leak, but even if you did, who cares. Now, come here.” I started, pulling the blanket wide, and while Yue looked embarrassed, biting her lip, I spotted that glow of happiness beginning to appear.

She shyly shuffled herself forward, before throwing herself in my arms. Yue’s head snuggled deep in my chest, chuckling as I wrapped the fluffy blanket tightly around her frame, the sweet smell of vanilla filling the air.

“I got brownies and a tea on the way, and we’ll cuddle until you fall asleep,” I whispered into her hair, placing a soft peck over her. Having Yue in my arms, happiness essentially radiating off her despite the pain she was undoubtedly experiencing, had me feeling a bit cocky. How well I knew Yue at this point, like the back of my hand.

“Zuko?” Yue hummed into my chest, a content purr in her voice.

“Yes, baby?”

“C-can you do the thing?” Yue mumbled, and I pulled back slightly to look down at her. Her cheeks were no longer a sickly flush, but a beautiful red – an expression that begged for cuddles.

“What thing, love?” I enquired, and Yue whined, “You know, the thing.”

I grinned sheepishly because the truth of the matter was I knew exactly what she wanted, but the look on her face was priceless. I really am a sadist-

“Oh, the thing. You mean, this?” I teased, and Yue mewled.

My palms heated in a flash, sneaking my touch into Yue’s makeshift cacoon, hot hands caressing her lower back. The way her body relaxed into my hug, sighing in utter bliss. I watched with amusement at the way Yue’s eyes fluttered shut, her muscles slowly beginning to loosen – at this rate, she was going to fall asleep standing up.

“Let’s get into bed, love, and I promise I’ll rub your tummy all night,” I muffled, and Yue agreed, “Thank you, Zuko.”

“No problem, love.” I lovingly spoke, ready to walk her into a beautiful thing called bed.

My hands gently jostled her, tugging her along, our nighttime cuddles my guilty pleasure. But Yue’s velvety voice stopped me for a moment, causing me to gaze down towards her golden eyes.

“Zuko?” she hummed, her lips parting.

“Mhmm?”

“Thank you for everything. For taking care of me.”

The way Yue’s doe-like eyes met mine, her pupils blown-wide as she stared at me like I was the universe and more. Love, that was her expression.

“Anything for you, baby, and I mean anything.”

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters besides any original characters I have created.

Cross-posted on Ao3/Tumblr/Quotev/Wattpad to discourage plagiarism.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

#atla #Zuko #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #zuko x oc #limerence #zuko scenario #ying yue #I swear Yue and Zuko are too cute #request

288 notes · View notes

into-the-stratosphere · 3 years

Text

Champagne Morale

Arthur x Forger Fem Reader

Summary: Going undercover at a charity ball hosted by one of the richest men in the country was hard enough as it was, but Arthur was certain flying solo would draw more attention than he’d like. If only he knew someone who could act well under pressure and improvise at a moment’s notice... like a top-notch forger. He just hopes she’ll say yes last minute.

A/N: Found this absolutely gorgeous picture (I’m still trying to find credit for it 🥺) and thought the guy looked like Arthur and this came from it. Hope you enjoy!

Champagne Morale

Arthur x Forger Fem Reader

Warnings: None besides brief mentions of some drinking.

WC: 2309

Pre-Inception

This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned to spend her Saturday night.

(Y/N) was dressed to the nines in a gown worth more than all the rest of her wardrobe combined, surrounded by the city’s wealth feigning charity. The older couples stalked the ballroom floor in their finest, eyes catching on anything less than spectacular, staring her down, trying to determine which family she belonged to in order to deserve a place on the guest list. They were like vultures on the hunt, scanning for any sign of imperfection. The only comfort she found was her hand tucked into the crevice of Arthur’s arm, leading her from the prying eyes— her “date” for the evening.

He’d been frantic when he asked her to accompany him earlier in the week, barely letting her get her door open before he’d launched into his rehearsed speech; he’d only just found a way to squeeze his name onto the private guest list of their next target’s charity ball that he’d forgotten to account for the plus one attached to it.

“It would look more suspicious if I arrived alone, plus you’re an excellent forger, so we could better cover each other if we started drawing anyone’s attention.”

She leaned on the doorframe, a bemused smile spreading her lips as he continued to list why it would be mutually beneficial for her to accompany him. He could go on for hours and not list the same reason twice, she thought. Ever the vigilant point man. (Y/N) held up a hand, Arthur falling silent at the gesture, holding her gaze.

“If you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask, Arthur,” she said, throwing a wink his way before closing the door. The last thing she caught was his mouth gaping as he stammered, the tips of his ears hinting pink.

She bit her lip to keep the self-satisfied smile off her face from the memory, reveling at how she of all people could get Arthur to crack. Glancing around, she accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, sipping on it a moment before looking towards her companion. He looked dashing, really; his suit was trimmed to perfection, expertly accentuating his slim but fit figure. A black bowtie sat snugly at the base of his throat, albeit a bit off kilter. She stopped him a moment to straighten it, letting her fingers linger a beat on his lapels before smiling up at him. He grinned, a familiar half tilt of his lips before offering his arm to her again. The only thing he hadn’t changed was his hair: slicked back, his signature.

As they paced around the edge of the room, (Y/N)’s eyes darted from face to face. “Which one is he exactly?” She whispered from behind her champagne glass.

Arthur minutely jutted his chin towards a man standing near the temporary stage, surrounded by laughing millionaires. Whether what he had said had actually been funny was only consequence; anything the surrounding gnats could do to earn his favour, they wouldn’t question.

(Y/N)’s eyes fixed on the man over the rim of her glass, studying his mannerisms. He was at least mid fifties, wearing a mild suit that, while designer, didn’t quite suit his loud voice. He slapped the man next to him on the back with a laugh, the poor recipient buckling under his heavy hand. She tilted her head, watching the target hand his plate off to the staggering lackey. Though he grinned at his boss, she could see the pressure building on him as the night went on. There’s the right hand man.

She turned to Arthur, handing him her nearly drained champagne glass, “Darling, would you mind holding this for me a moment? I’ll be right back.” Before he could protest, she was halfway across the room, bee lining for their target.

He pressed his lips together, watching as she slipped into the inner circle of groupies with ease, throwing her head back with laughter at whatever their target had just said. His jaw clenched at the sight of the man turning his attention her way, bringing her hand to his lips in greeting. He gestured around the room, and Arthur swore he felt a blood vessel pop as the man put a hand to the small of (Y/N)’s back, showing her around the stations he’d had arranged for the ball.

He tried distracting himself, finishing what was left in (Y/N)’s champagne glass as he made a mental note to grab her another before she returned. A passing waiter took the empty flute from his hands, leaving Arthur to shove his hands in his pockets, gripping his loaded die with white knuckles as he turned away from the pair now meandering by the reflection pool, a posse of millionaires trailing slowly after them.

As long as she’s having fun. If he clasped his die any tighter it would surely shatter.

Arthur wasn’t left to his sulking for long; (Y/N)’s laughter drifted by his ear a few minutes later, and he turned his head to see his target walking her to where he leant against the wall. The man eyed Arthur up and down, standing straighter before pressing a final kiss to (Y/N)’s knuckles. She looked up at the host through her lashes, a coy smile gracing her features that made Arthur’s heart pang.

I’m not… no, I couldn’t be jealous.

(Y/N) was his friend, had been for years. Are we really only friends though? All his memories with her flashed through his mind in an instant, flushed cheeks and tentative touches. As he watched her bid their host a far too fond farewell, his pulse raced. Is that all we are?

She grinned until the target finally turned away from the pair, letting the disgust fall over her features when she knew his gaze was elsewhere. “I swear to God if he touched me one more time I was going to vomit.”

Arthur could barely restrain his laughter, the target shooting him a glare that he didn’t care to cower from. He wrapped one arm around (Y/N)’s midsection, rubbing soothing circles into the exposed skin as she brooded.

“Am I allowed to spend time with my date now?”

“Come on, you know I did that for the intel. Plus I can learn so many new characters from those snobby wannabes.”

“I’m sure you did.”

He grinned as she threw a weak punch into his chest, minding how she just as quickly drew back into his hold. The little green monster was sated for now. In fact, it certainly didn’t mind when she asked him for a dance, to get the feeling of his hands on me out of my mind, dragging him to the middle of the room where they blended in with the swarm of couples roused by the band.

He took her hand, his other falling to her waist, swaying quickly to the jazzy tune, watching laughter, genuine laughter bubble up her throat. Arthur dipped (Y/N) low, breathless by the way her hair fell from its intricate styling. He grinned at her, pulling her back into his chest, their breaths mingling as the tempo picked up again. For a song, they weren’t two con artists studying a target, two friends pretending to be dates— they were a complementary pair, dancing the night away oblivious to the pompous splendor surrounding them. Anyone who looked at them could tell the chemistry they shared— even the jealous host watching from the sidelines, his arms crossed over his chest.

When the song ended, their chests heaving from exertion, all the room applauded the quintet situated on the temporary stage, bowing to their audience before starting up their next melody. (Y/N) and Arthur drifted away from the dance floor, locking arms as they sought the cool air blowing over the reflection pool.

They strolled around as they talked, glancing over the small tables of finger foods scattered on their way, careful to keep a good deal of distance from the man of the hour who hadn’t stopped shooting Arthur venomous looks since their dance ended. (Y/N) was pointing out a tray full of exotic caviar worth as much food that could feed an entire household for months when Arthur noticed the security on the edge of the room, eyeing the pair with wary expressions.

He watched from his peripheral as one stepped up behind the host on the stage, preparing himself for his speech to thank all the wealthy donors in the room as the band was packing away their instruments. He stalled as the guard whispered in his ear, his gaze latching onto the pair once more with a newfound suspicion.

Arthur cleared his throat, turning (Y/N) away from the stage with a hand on her arm, looking out over the calm waters. “We may have to leave soon.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, masking her surprise with a pleasant expression. He could tell she was listening into the conversations around them, trying to key in to how long they had.

The security detail became more mobile across the room, moving towards the exits of the venue. Arthur swore under his breath, slowing their pace to be equally spaced from the nearest guards. “We’re going to need a diversion.”

“Already on it.”

Arthur didn’t need to question her plan, feeling her weight drop onto his side as she giggled airily— playing drunk, he realized. An older woman nearby scoffed under her breath, something about minding how much one should drink in public, and Arthur shot her an apologetic smile, draping one of (Y/N)’s arms around his shoulders to better support her. One of her heels caught around the hem of her dress, (Y/N) kicking it away in a mock drunken huff, pressing further against Arthur’s body. Were he not so hyper aware of the extra guards appearing from the exits, he would have taken just a second to appreciate the sensation of her warmth bleeding into him, filling his chest until he felt he could float without a dream.

He tilted his head down next to her ear, “Alright, we’re going to need a better distraction to get out of here— maybe a prior engagement we forgot about that we need to get to right away—“

Arthur didn’t need to finish the rest of his plan as (Y/N) deftly swiped a leg from under him, teetering over to the side—

Where the reflection pool lay waiting to catch them.

Gasps shot through the crowd to see the tipsy couple splash into the water, rushing to the pool’s edge to watch the chaos. While the host hastened to the microphone to call for attention and order, the feedback making all the guests cringe under the volume, under the surface Arthur shook his head incredulously at (Y/N), who only shot him a cheeky wink.

The two emerged, beautiful clothes ruined, gasping for air. A handful of guards reached for their hands, pulling them from the water as some waiters went off to fetch some towels. (Y/N) shivered, clinging to Arthur’s arm as she sobbed, apologizing for ruining such a lovely evening meant for charity.

Arthur had to keep from rolling his eyes at the theatrics. Expert forger indeed, there wasn’t a single face without a pitiful turn of the lip, (Y/N)’s performance tugging at her audience’s hearts. If he didn’t know her, he was sure she’d even get a reaction out of him.

She shivered in his arms, stumbling to her feet as her gown clung to her legs. She sniffled, her mascara dripping down her face— whether from the water still dripping from her hair or her expertly crafted tears no one could tell. As a waitress passed along some warm towels, Arthur thanked her and began to move towards the exit, catching the glimmer of mischief in (Y/N)’s eye as they finally passed through the crowd.

As the wealthy elites finally drew back towards the host on the stage, Arthur risked a whisper to his date, “Certainly not what I had in mind, but you definitely got the job done. You know, if you wanted our date to be over, you could have just asked, (Y/N).”

Arthur could only glimpse (Y/N)’s bemused face as she realized what he said before she pushed him towards the pool again, but not before he caught her wrist and dragged her back in with him.

The host sighed on stage to see the happy couple go under once more, smothering the jealousy at having lost quite a catch.

Before (Y/N) could begin to swim for the surface, Arthur pulled her face towards his, grinning as her lips met his eagerly, bubbles dancing around their bodies as they floated a moment, too caught up in one another to care for air or what waited for them when they’d resurface once more.

They finally broke apart, pulling one another to the surface to greedily drink in lungfuls of oxygen. The only crowd to greet them this time was the waitstaff informing them they would have to leave. The two ducked their heads in apology, rushing out the door before anyone else would think to stop them.

When they burst onto the street in front of the lavish venue, wrapped in one another in a desperate attempt to keep warm, (Y/N) turned to Arthur, teeth chattering, “You know, I think I’d prefer we stayed dry on our next date.”

No, she certainly didn’t expect to spend her Saturday night drenched to the bone with a man who’s kisses tasted like champagne and confessions, but she definitely didn’t regret it either.

#inception #inception 2010 #Arthur inception x reader #Arthur inception x fem reader #Arthur inception #Arthur inception x forger reader #forger reader #fanfiction #reader insert #into-the-stratosphere #into-the-artmosphere #my writing #my work

70 notes · View notes

philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Fandom: The Case Study of Vanitas (Mochizuki Jun)

Pairing: Noé/Vanitas

Tags: #vanitas pines for noé, #implied/referenced past rape/non-con, #implied/referenced past childe abuse, #blood and unjury, #angst and feels, #forehead kisses

Words: 3.7k

Summary: Vanitas can’t sleep so he does the only other thing he’s good at besides curing vampires from the curse: harass Noé. It escalates royally and doesn’t end good. No one is surprised.

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Moonlight casts slim, silver lines on Noé’s face.

Sitting on the windowsill, Vanitas can see the slow and steady rise of Noé’s chest, a constant rhythm speaking of life. How he has survived until today is still a wonder to Vanitas. Only a few feet separate him from the sleeping, defenceless body—a body he knows all too well capable of pulling tense like a bowstring when ready to strike; an animal equipped with lethal tools to hunt and destroy. But Noé is a paradox of black and white, a pacifist at heart that opens up too easily, too quick. Why else would he be interested in someone like Vanitas?

Their conversation at the top of the bell tower is still ringing all too clear in his head, a memory he’d rather strip from his mind and drop in the deepest part of a vicious, dark sea. Noé is dangerous, because unbeknown to himself, he has worked a strange magic on Vanitas, pulling at invisible chains curling around his neck however Noé pleases. If Vanitas didn’t know better, he’d call it Fate, but she has abandoned him long ago to suddenly return like a sullen lover and beg him for companionship.

“Louis,” Noé murmurs, drawing back Vanitas’s attention, and no, he isn’t jealous, not in the slightest. He just wants to reach inside Noé’s mouth and rip that name out of him. He hates that even though Noé is easy to read like an open book, it turns out its pages are filled with enigmas Vanitas is unable to solve.

A little huff escapes him as he slides down the windowsill, his feet landing eerily quiet on the floor. Watching Noé snore undisturbed, he’s quite sure he’s met what must be the worst vampire of his kind. What else explains his utter lack of awareness of danger? Vanitas imagines slipping right next to him and sliding a dagger across his throat or put the barrel right above his heart, pulling the trigger.

He’s so easy, Vanitas thinks, barely holding back a scoff. In so many ways.

Noé shifts, and Vanitas stops, only noticing then he’s already crossed the room and has almost reached Noé’s bedside. And that’s another thing he can’t stand about Noé: He makes Vanitas do things impulsively, barely spending another thought if what he’s about to do is beneficial or utterly disastrous—no matter that, in most cases he is already moving, already talking, and it’s so aggravating that 80 percent of what he’s saying in a sentence starts or ends with Noé’s name on his lips. Like a blessing, like a prayer. Vanitas doesn’t pray, not anymore. He’s stopped long ago, and no God, Saint or Martyr’s promise of benediction would be enough for a reward to make him resume.

So they punish him, and surely Noé is just another part of what they hold in store for him. Another explanation isn’t possible, because why of all nights in which he has visited Noé, this time he wakes up, his warning only a little hum before Vanitas is met with a sleepy face and white hair adorably ruffled.

No, not adorable, he tells himself. Terrible. Annoying.

“Vanitas?” Noé’s voice is rough on the edges and thick with sleep. “You can’t sleep?”

Vanitas feels challenged to say, “No, watching people sleep is one of my many exotic hobbies!” but he’s tired and sort of really desperate for some form of rest, so defeated, he admits, “No, I can’t.”

Noé considers him with more regard, and Vanitas wonders what he thinks, watching him stand in his room, barefoot and with deep shadows under his eyes. Just the previous day, he'd commented that Vanitas wasn’t looking well at all, and he'd asked if they should rest for a while. Vanitas had pressed on even harder, refusing Noé another good look at his battered form.

The silence stretches before them like a lazy beast, unmoving but still ready to pounce any second. Eventually, Noé offers with a carefully even voice, “Do you want to know what always helped me falling asleep when I was a child?”

Vanitas scoffs. “No, I really don’t.”

“Good,” Noé says, either not noticing or ignoring Vanitas rolling his eyes. “Whenever I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d go to Domi’s room and climb into her bed. Knowing someone was beside me helped, and I can sleep much better with someone warm next to me.”

“My, do I look like a ten year old boy, barely able to fend for myself that I need to share my bed with someone?” Vanitas cocks his head to the side, squinting at Noé from under his black lashes. “And who would want to lie next to a rough sleeper like you, ending up as a body pillow for your serving!”

Noé arches a slim, white eyebrow and lifts his blanket. Vanitas stares at him for a moment, then moves towards him like a moth to the flame and crawls under the sheets, settling right next to the other boy. “What a splendid idea!” no one says, because it isn’t.

Noé is a furnace beside him. Whatever space Vanitas tries to bring between them, he immediately bridges, pressing his arm against Vanitas’s.

“Dominique is going to kill me if she hears about this,” he murmurs into the darkness, ignoring how Noé’s calf feels against his bare ankle. “If you so much as mention it to her, I will haunt you down and slay you.”

Noé hums as he turns around to face him, snuggling into the blanket. Vanitas tries to lie as still as possible. He imagines he is a rock at the bottom of a vast sea where he’s been for hundreds of years and will remain for another hundreds of years. It works until he feels Noé’s warm breath ghost over his cheek and in his imagination, Vanitas sees the rock carried away with the water current.

“She won’t bother,” Noé says. “Like I said, we used to do that all the time as kids. Me, Domi and—” The sudden silence feels like the air sucked out of the room so no sound can travel. Vanitas can feel his shoulders tense, his breath caught somewhere on the way from his lungs to his mouth.

Don’t say Louis, don’t say Louis, he thinks.

“And Louis,” Noé finishes quietly, another breath on Vanitas’s skin.

“Then we must be talking about a different Dominique,” Vanitas says, not indulging at all in the boy that’s written in blood on Noé’s tongue and hands. “But then again, you are her favourite thing, and she would do anything for you. Do me one favour, would you? Don’t invite me to your wedding.”

Noé makes a strange, curious sound, and draws his knees up to his chest. Vanitas tries to accommodate by moving further towards the edge but half of his body is already hanging off, barely covered by the blanket. He shivers and turns to his side, now facing Noé and notices too late what a terrible idea that is with only a few inches separating their faces. His eyes shift from Noé’s ears to his cheekbones and focus on where his lashes throw dark shadows on his skin.

“Wedding?” Noé blinks up at him. “Me and Domi? What makes you think that we would marry?”

“What makes you think you won’t?”

“Dominique is like a sister to me.” Noé hums another little, low note, leaning his head forward. Vanitas leans back. “No, she is the sister I always wished for. I love her as family.”

“Why, go and break her heart like that.” Vanitas sighs, faking a concerned huff. Either the soft fabric just under the tip of his fingers is his own coat or Noé’s pyjama, and he doesn’t dare moving to find out. “Or maybe you’re actually naive enough to believe she feels the same way.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” He can practically hear the other boy frowning. “I’m certain she too loves me as a brother. And should she ever decide to marry, I’ll surely be sad, but it doesn’t matter as long as she’s happy. I just know she’ll be a beautiful bride.”

Vanitas rolls his eyes, unable to believe such gullibility and there’s nothing he wants to do more than claw his way into Noé’s heart and see what makes him tick like that, what mechanics work to produce such a strange specimen like him. But before he can give back a snark remark, Noé suddenly asks, “What about you?”

“Oh, I would make a lovely bride, thank you for asking.”

“No, I mean marriage,” Noé says after a poorly restrained chuckle. “Are you considering to marry Jeanne?”

Vanitas’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ before he barks out a laugh. “What in Heaven’s sake makes you think that?” he says, pressing one hand against his forehead because surely whatever Noé comes up with now will give him the headache that’s asserted itself within him since their first encounter.

Noé is quiet for a moment, then whispers, “Because you love her.”

Vanitas stops laughing. The headache doesn’t come, it’s dulled by the strange tone in Noé’s voice, one he fails to identify. It’s like grabbing mist, the whitish mystery clearly visible but slipping through his fingers.

“That is a very strong assumption,” he starts slowly, hearing the edge in his own voice. “But tell me, Noé, do you see me as someone who is capable of loving?” Noé’s breath hitches, his answer clear to Vanitas before even spoken, so quickly, and with a voice dark and hard, like late-winter ice, he adds, “A vampire of all things?”

Noé’s breath hitches again, this time sounding like a knife stabbed into his side. It does something funny to Vanitas, makes his heart jump a little out of tact, and he feels a smile slowly forming his lips into a crooked line. His hand sneaks up from under the blanket and reaches to grab a white lock, playing a contrast of black and white between his gloved fingers.

“I don’t love, Noé,” he whispers, pushing his cheek into the pillow that smells of Noé. “Not you, not Jeanne. Not humans, and certainly not vampires. I only consume those of value to my cause.” Like you. Like Jeanne and that boy she holds so dear.

Noé seems to understand, but he doesn’t pull away from Vanitas’s touch, which speaks volumes of whatever this connection between them is. No, he slightly turns his head, nuzzling into Vanitas’s hand, and with a shudder Vanitas realises how vulnerable the inside of his wrist is just inches away from Noé’s mouth and those hidden teeth that can easily rip apart his skin.

In this short moment he begs to whatever deities currently punishing him that he would bite him. Because then everything would easily fall into place, and he could kill Noé without second thought; without remorse.

Silver lines return to Noé’s face, and Vanitas blinks up at the window, at the narrow slit showing the moon emerging behind thick clouds, making Noé look like a piece torn out of the night sky: silver and black.

“Ah, but it seems there is someone else who adores you,” he says, his voice rising to a playful, ironic tint. He nods his chin towards the moon, and Noé turns around and away from Vanitas’s hand, blinking into the soft light. Just for a split second, his fingers twitch—toward Noé’s throat, his cheek, his lips?—but he already pulls it back under the blanket, still feeling exactly where Noé has touched him even through the thick fabric of his glove.

“La lune?” Noé turns back to Vanitas, brows drawn together.

“Yes, the very one. But I don’t recommend giving into it. You can only go so far on a roof after all before you reach the end.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know the story? About the man falling in love with the moon. He climbed up to a roof to reach her, but well. I think you can imagine the end of that.”

“It sounds like the moon is a harsh mistress,” Noé says slowly, surprising Vanitas in joining his antics, even following his train of thought. “La belle dame sans merci,” he whispers. “Then you two aren’t so different.”

Vanitas raises an eyebrow. “Beg your pardon?”

“Just as distant,” he says, shifting away from Vanitas for the first time. Good, Vanitas should think. Stay away from me. But instead he goes rigid and demands, Don’t go. “Just as out of reach.”

“Thank you, I try to keep things interesting,” Vanitas says, his voice hollow.

Noé surprises him (there it is again, being surprised when Vanitas has sworn that he’ll never underestimate another person ever again) by giving a soft chuckle. “But that makes me want to get closer to you even more, Vanitas.”

His mouth goes dry. His brain tries to follow up with whatever might rebuilt the wall between them, brick by brick, but instead his mind betrays him and takes over his mouth, babbling, “Did you know Alain Chartier wrote the poem about the merciless belle dame? It’s a little tacky to my taste, but then again, I wouldn’t beg anyone for their adoration. It’s a silly concept, the dialogue between the Lover and the Lady, I mean why would anyone ride out to enjoy a party, only to languish at the feet of—”

Noé groans. He stops the onslaught of words by slapping a hand on Vanitas’s mouth. The sudden silence stretches into uncomfortable territory until Vanitas can’t bear it anymore. He stares at Noé out from the corner of his eyes, and parts his lips to drag his tongue over Noé’s fingers. Noé flinches, and looks back at him with wide eyes. What usually did the trick to gross people out (Dante for example was fairly familiar with this concept and never failed to meet Vanitas’s expectations to draw away quickly) doesn’t work on Noé. He remains transfixed on Vanitas’s face as if all secrets of the universe display on his features, and Vanitas starts to questions his action. Suddenly, Noé shifts. He props himself on one elbow and leans over him, casting a long shadow over his upper body.

Just then, Vanitas realises what a dangerous situation he’s in. Up until this moment, he thought Noé to be shy, but that isn’t right at all. Noé is quiet resolve, and steadfast loyalty, he is the very silence ready to pounce and turn peace into havoc. It’s evident in how he watches Vanitas behind half closed eyes, those ruby mirrors considering him with an unreadable expression. His heart picks up, and before he can ascertain if this is a game he can win, he answers with sultry eyes himself, and mouths “Kiss me” against Noé’s skin.

It’s just out of curiosity, he tells himself. He wants to rile Noé up a little, see how far he can go and where he draws the line. Maybe Noé won’t do a thing and play the blushing maiden Vanitas imagines him to be. They both know it’s a dare Noé will lose because he respects Vanitas’s boundaries too much, and that little victory satisfies him already enough to smile into Noé’s hand triumphantly.

Noé considers him with a blank expression before his eyes slowly drift to his hand where it’s still secured over Vanitas’s mouth. Something changes in his eyes, they grow soft, and Vanitas immediately regrets what he’s done because he can’t bear the warmth in them, the unspoken promise of whatever Noé is willing to give him. He thinks about squirming out of the boy's touch, but he’s started moving his hand already, settling on Vanitas’s eyes. His heart stops. Rotten memories claw at the edge of his mind, hungry hyenas demanding blood and misery that this kind of darkness brings. Before he can lash out and push Noé away, soft moon light illuminates the darkness behind his closed eyes again, and he takes a deep, shaky breath, only now noticing that he’s stopped breathing. His eyes snap open, locking with Noé’s as he brushes black bangs out of Vanitas’s face. The moon shines a halo around Noé when he leans down and kisses his forehead.

It’s perfect.

Vanitas hates it.

He doesn’t move.

Noé’s lips are surprisingly soft. So is his smell, a faint fragrance of sandalwood with the sharp tint of clove and something coppery hidden under the layers, and there’s nothing better to describe it than home. The realisation cuts him in a sharp, painful flash, one that robs him of the air he’s only just now regained. Noé is careful that no other part of their bodies is touching, and it’s the last act of kindness that pushes something in him into a bottomless, black hole.

His fingers splay on Noé’s chest as he pushes him away, staring up into a slightly flushed face. The blushing maiden. Despite everything, it makes Vanitas smile.

“You live dangerous, my friend,” he murmurs, playing with a shirt button close to Noé’s collarbones. “But I will condone it this once. It seems I forgot one gets burned when playing with fire.”

Noé leans back, one hand beside Vanitas’s head carrying his weight, contemplating. Vanitas already knows whatever he’s going to say, it won’t be good.

“I never thought of you as someone who would yield to anything,” Noé says eventually. “Not even fire.” And quieter, he adds, “Ignis aurom probat.” Fire tests gold.

A shudder ripples through Vanitas’s body, stealing his control and causing him to laugh involuntarily because he doesn’t see himself as pure as gold, and Noé is so much more than a simple fire. Noé is a searing blaze, devastating cities and forests and leaving ashes of their self, allowing them to rebuild and regrow and turn away from an unwanted past. Vanitas would gladly sell his soul for such an opportunity, but he’s shackled by the shadow of a little boy half his height with a sweet voice and eyes the fairest blue even the sky envies.

“You’re quite the charmer, but you do know what they say about gold, don’t you?”

Noé hesitates, shifting a little, and even Vanitas with the little imagination that he has, can quite clearly picture how the muscles must shift beneath Noé’s dark skin on his back. He closes his eyes and breathes through his mouth. “Gold gives to the ugliest thing a certain charming air, For that without it were else a miserable affair.”

Noé pales. “I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh.” Vanitas smiles a smile Lucifer must have worn just seconds before God banished him from Heaven. His eyes don’t leave Noé for a second when he lifts a finger and presses it against Noé’s lips.

“I know, you didn’t mean to.” He rolls his eyes, voice in a mocking tone imitating what Noé was going to say because he’s easily predictable. “And you would never hurt me. But that makes us different. Because I will gladly hurt you if you let me.” He follows the soft curve of Noé’s lower lip with the tip of his finger until he reaches the corner of his mouth. There he curls his finger inside and pulls one side into a crooked smile. A sharp tooth grazes his skin, not quiet enough to break it, but a shiver travels down his back nonetheless.

Noé pulls Vanitas’s hand away from his face, looking down at him like he’s a strange animal he’s never seen before. A dull sadness settles over his eyes, but it’s too quick for Vanitas to really acknowledge.

“Not gold then,” Noé concludes with resolution in his voice. “But quicksilver.” And with that, he places Vanitas’s hand carefully back on his chest, and retreats to his side of the bed, laying down so Vanitas is faced with his broad back, his body completely turned towards the moon.

Vanitas blinks, stretching out one hand to follow the curve of Noé’s spine in the air with a finger, imagining what it would feel like to curl against this strong body and hold onto something what won’t break under his touch. He stays like that until he hears calm, deep breathing. Only then he lifts that same finger that’s been inside Noé’s mouth to his lips and sucks slowly until his mind talks him into believing it’s actually Noé he tastes.

I don’t love, he repeats over and over in his head until his eyes fall close and he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning starts just like Vanitas has always feared a morning sleeping beside another body would go. Waking up slowly to a woman’s voice in the far distance, he’s still walking on this slim line between sleeping and waking, a coma really, when his conscience registers a heavy arm around his waist and warm breath in his neck. His body locks up into one painful, tense muscle; all desperate instinct and frightened awareness because No, I don’t want Doctor to touch me, and he starts frantically scrabbling for the dagger below his pillow only to find nothing. Vanitas feels punched back to when he’s eleven and caged under Moreau’s heavy, naked body, a choked whimper like a wounded animal leaving his mouth. The arm moves, allowing the tiniest leeway. Vanitas doesn’t think. He swings his arm as hard as he can and hears the satisfying crack of a bone breaking. The man beside him gives a surprised shout, and Vanitas jumps to his feet, ready to break more than bones as the door crashes open at the same time, a woman storming inside.

“Noé?” Dominique cries, taking in how he's bent forward on the bed, holding his face. It doesn’t stop the blood dripping all over the white sheets, and Vanitas grows cold when her sharp eyes land on him, a furious hate boiling inside them. “What have you done, human?” she hisses, reaching Noé’s hunched form within few steps.

Vanitas is lost for words, a quite frequent reaction whenever he’s in Noé’s proximity. But it isn’t like anything he’ll say can excuse or save him from Dominique’s wrath, so he just stands there, dumbfounded, and watches her valuate the graveness of Noé’s broken nose, wondering if the man who’s fallen off the roof in the pursuit of his love lost as much blood as Noé right now and if that was worthwhile, or if he’d have rather poisoned himself with quicksilver.

Not that it matters.

Both end in a painful, slow death.

I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci Thee hath in thrall!’

[John Keats]

#philliamwrites #ap3 #fanfiction #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #vannoe #vanitas #noe

39 notes · View notes

isis-astarte-diana · 3 years

Text

One Of Those Days

Summary: “I can help you, if you want. Give you something to cry about.” Missy always seems to know exactly what you need.

Warnings: NSFW. Mummy kink. Spanking with a kitchen utensil an implement. Dodgy dynamics. MIHOW.

Word Count: 5499

NB: Hey, so, uh, this is a thing I wrote! You literally asked for this, I wash my hands of it. This is a kink that walks a fine line and I know that, so I’ve done my best to keep it on the side that I think is more-or-less palatable, ie. this is some fluffy smut about a rough day made better by spanking, snuggles, sex and submission. I think a lot of us could go for that every now and again!

"Now, what was that in aid of?”

The sound of Missy’s voice behind you would usually make you jump; she has a tendency to appear out of nowhere, catlike and silent on her feet despite her Edwardian heels. There’s a faint glimmer of amusement to her tone that, on any typical day, would have you prickling with delight.

Today is not a typical day.

You scrub a hand over your face, turning away from the cupboard door that you’ve just slammed with vicious force.

“Sorry,” you mutter, your jaw tight. “I’m just in a bad mood.”

“Yes, I can see that much.” The teasing lilt is still there, but you can hear a hint of warning blooming in the words. “Quite the stroppy little thing, today, aren’t you?”

“Missy,” you caution, trying hard to keep the bite out of her name. “Just- don’t. Seriously.”

“If you think I’m going to tiptoe around you just because you’re on the rag then-”

Incensed, you turn on her, snapping back, “I’m not on the fucking-!”

The words die in your throat when her hand slams down on the kitchen counter beside you. She’s much closer than you expected, close enough to make you cringe back until the edge of the countertop digs into the base of your spine. She cocks her head, her eyes sparking dangerously, her painted lips curled into a half-smile with too many sharp teeth behind it.

“Careful, dearest,” she chimes sweetly. “Try again.”

Your gulp is deafening in the stillness.

Tentatively, you make another attempt. Your sour mood still shines through in your voice. “I’m just- I’m having one of those days. I don’t know why.” Missy raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, waiting with all the patience of a half-submerged crocodile for you to make another mistake. You turn your face away and take a steadying breath. “Everything- everything is getting to me. Everything’s too much. I feel like I’m gonna scream or break down in tears any second.”

“Maybe you should.”

You scoff wryly at her response and her other hand darts out, cool fingers taking hold of your chin, guiding your eyes back to her. Bristling at her audacity, you shrug her off. Her palm lands on your cheek, not harsh enough to be called a slap, but certainly with sufficient force to remind you that she would strike you if she had to. It pushes you into acquiescence as she turns your head once more.

Her expression has you dragging your bottom lip between your teeth, averting your eyes to avoid her gaze. She’s looking into you, through you, leaving you feeling pitifully exposed.

“I mean it.” Her thumb sweeps across your cheekbone with tenderness juxtaposed to her stern voice. She has a perfect way of doing this, of trapping you between severity and softness, disorientating you so that you never quite know if she’s about to kiss you or bite you. It consumes your attention and starts to unravel some of the throbbing knots in your mind. “I can help you, if you want. Give you something to cry about.”

Only Missy could make such a threat sound like a consolation.

Reaching up to cover her hand with your own, you risk meeting her eyes. Her lips quirk in encouragement. You’ve played this sort of game before, of course, but that doesn’t make it any easier to ask for; and she will make you ask for it.

Regardless of what you do now, pain will come. You were rude - downright nasty, in fact - and while she loves an argument better than anybody, she has her limits. Being snapped at like that is one of them. Your chances of sitting comfortably tonight are already miniscule. All that remains is for you to decide the context.

“Please.” It’s quiet, strained, the best you can manage. “Please... mummy.”

It’s hard to say if it’s uttering the words that knocks the wind out of you or if it’s the beaming smile that spreads across her face.

“Good girl,” she praises gently, her fingers curling under your chin with ticklish pressure that softens your tense posture immediately. It’s remarkable how easy this is for her, how swiftly she can turn you into whatever kind of creature she wants you to be, without even the barest hint of hypnosis. She can have you howling with rage, scratching and swearing and fighting her for all you’re worth, in one moment, and falling to your knees to worship at her feet in the next. If it weren’t so mutually beneficial it might frighten you.

Sometimes it still does.

“Mummy,” your voice is a cracked whisper as you nuzzle into the touch. She gives you a sympathetic pout and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry I was rude.”

“I know you are, poppet.” She brushes a stray bit of hair behind your ear and loops her other arm around you, pulling you into her embrace. You gratefully accept it, tucking your head against her shoulder. “You’re just a sulky little girl, today, aren’t you? It’s not your fault.”

“S’no excuse,” you mumble into her blouse. It’s awkward, physically, to fold yourself up against her like this, but the soft cotton under your cheek and the scent of her perfumed neck call to you irresistibly. Your fingers press into her corseted back, savouring the warmth of her.

“No, it’s not,” she agrees, without reprimand. “But I’m not cross with you.” Her fingers card through your hair, her nails dragging soothingly against your scalp. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, hmm? We could have nipped this in the bud first thing this morning, before it ever got this far.”

“I don’t know.” You hold tighter to her, the soft admonition making you feel faintly ridiculous. “I just thought it’d go away on its own.”

“Silly girl.” She sweetens the words with a soft kiss to your ear that sends a pleasant tremor through you. Her palm presses between your shoulder blades, rubbing firmly. “You know that that’s what mummy’s here for.”

You’re already close to tears just from this tenderness, and you nod against her shoulder, sniffling them back. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, none of that, love,” she croons. “It’s alright. I’m here now, and I have the perfect medicine for a fussy girl like you.”

Missy, expertly as ever, changes your mood like she’s flicking a light switch. Desire creeps slow and warm down the back of your neck. The gentle touch of her nose, her lips, against your ear becomes a caress as sensual as anything you’ve ever felt. With one last peck she looses her arms from around you.

Being let go of after she’s peeled back your defences like this, baring all of your rawest parts to the world, is torturous, but she entwines her fingers with yours and squeezes your hand to soften the blow.

“I think that this,” she reaches past your shoulder and plucks something from the counter behind you, utensils rattling together in their holder as she disturbs them, “should do very nicely. Don’t you?”

Smiling like she’s presenting you with a gift, she holds up the wooden spoon and shows it to you.

The sight of it makes your mouth go dry.

You’d always assumed that there was such a thing as a cruel implement; that pain and pleasure hung upon the tools used to create them, in at least some small way. That notion has long since been cleared from your mind. Sensation, in all its guises, is what Missy chooses to make of it. She can kiss you into agonies or beat you into euphoria, depending on her mood.

She’s used this on you before, but only ever with playful intentions. In this moment, playful she is not. The fact that she isn’t cross with you doesn’t mean that you will be spared; only that she’ll whisper words of encouragement rather than sharp reprimands while she takes you apart.

“So quiet, now?” She purses her lips, a soft note of displeasure in her voice. “Cat got your tongue, dear?”

You shake your head, not taking your eyes off of the spoon. “No, mummy.” You have to pause to wet your lips. “That- that would be good.”

Her face softens as if she’d been braced for you to protest. “Oh, my poor girl.” Once more, she squeezes your hand. “You really have had a miserable day, haven’t you?”

Feeling tears tug at your throat again, you nod silently.

“We’ll have you feeling better in no time. Come along.” Letting her chosen weapon hang at her side, she gently tugs you away from the counter. “I think we’ll do this in the bedroom today.”

With your eyes cast down you follow her through the TARDIS, its warbling hum a familiar comfort. Like everything else she does, Missy’s choice of location is always symbolic. If she were to bend you over the kitchen counter you could expect to have your arm twisted up behind your back - not necessarily with unkind force - and your clothes in disarray to expose you best. In the bedroom, things would be tidier. You would, you will, be bare across her lap, your fingers twisting in the duvet, the rhythm of her breaths and the shifting of her thighs reverberating through you like an extra heartbeat.

She’s utterly fearless as she strolls the halls, humming something to herself under her breath, the wooden spoon in her hand for all and sundry to see if you were to be witnessed. You doubt that your private activities are a mystery, as such, to your travelling companions, but the thought of the tableau that you would make as she leads you to the bedroom like this is enough to make you wince.

All shame is forgotten when you arrive.

“Would you be a dear, and fetch mummy’s box of tricks?” Missy lets go of your hand to brush your cheek with her knuckles, her voice a sweet and conspiratorial whisper. The feathery touch has you ducking your head with a shiver. “I’m certain I can find something in there to turn that little frown upside down.”

“Okay, mummy.” She flicks the tip of your nose with her fingertip and makes you squeak. Her smile widens.

“You see? It’s not all so bad, is it?” Her lips follow her finger, pressing a soft kiss to your nose. “Go on, poppet. You know where it is.”

The box of toys that she refers to is, you believe, a reupholstered sewing box, lined with black velvet. It sits on the middle shelf of the armoire, its mahogany grain gleaming in the rosy light of the bedroom, and you bring it to her with nothing short of reverence. It’s heavier than it looks.

It is, of course, bigger on the inside.

Missy takes it from you with a saucy wink and sets it down on the bed, atop the damask sheets, balancing the wooden spoon across its lid. It’s an impossibly tempting sight; she holds relief of every kind in her delicate hands. Something, almost a giggle, anticipation making you giddy and restless, bubbles up from your chest. You bite your lip to stifle more.

“Oh, my lovely girl.” The corners of her eyes crinkle as she takes both of your hands in hers, pulling you closer to stand in front of her when she sits at the side of the bed. “This is all you needed, isn’t it? A little bit of attention. A little bit of discipline.”

The words make your throat feel tight. Your eyes flit from her face down to the shape of her knees beneath the plum skirt. It’s too easy, teetering here on the precipice between symptom and cure, to let anxiety overtake you again, and your face heats with prickling self-consciousness.

“I’m not doing this because I’m cross with you.” She lifts your right hand to her mouth and brushes a soft, damp kiss across your knuckles, her eyes trained on your face all the while. “It’s for your own good. You’ll feel better for it.”

You offer her a shallow nod and murmur, weakened by the tears that bite in your throat, “I know.”

With another encouraging squeeze to your hands she lets them go, lets you brace them on her shoulders as she takes hold of your hips and guides you between her parted knees.

“You really are ever so pretty, you know.” Her fingers creep under the hem of your long shirt, trailing light and ticklish at the bare skin above the waistband of your leggings. You shiver under the touch. “I’m terribly lucky to have you.”

Your breath hitches. “Missy-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she stills her hands, cool palms flat either side of your waist. One eyebrow quirks. “Mummy’s talking. It’s rude to interrupt.”

She’s almost too good at this.

“Sorry, mummy.” Pressing your fingers into her shoulders, you bend to kiss the dark, unruly hair at the crown of her head. She curls her fingertips against your sides and rubs slow circles there.

“Such a soft little thing, you are.” It’s uncanny, how you can be stooped over her like this, your cheek pressed into her hair, and feel entirely at her mercy. When her fingernails drag across your skin, sending you twisting and whining at the feathery sensation, she titters. “Oh, I could just eat you all up!”

Missy bunches up the fabric of your shirt in her hands and lifts it to your waist, baring a few inches of skin above your leggings. Her mouth descends with unbridled glee. Cool, slick kisses attack your stomach, and you squeal, caught off guard and entirely delighted. Emboldened by your reaction, she pulls you tighter to her mouth, fastens her open lips to the soft flesh just above your navel and blows.

It tickles, of course, rippling through you until you almost lose your breath in a shriek, but it does more than that. You draw tighter around her, wrap your arms around her shoulders, shifting your thighs together as the sensation washes down your spine as well as up. Another flicker of arousal unfurls in your abdomen and licks at your cunt. Obviously aware of the effect that she’s having, she nuzzles her nose just above your waistband, tickling the skin there with her breath.

“You're such a good girl for me.” When she starts to work at your leggings you straighten up, keeping your hands on her shoulders, widening your stance to help her ease them over your hips and down your thighs. It’s impossible to ignore how close her face is to your exposed underwear. “You’re not going to give me any trouble, today, are you, hmm?”

It feels like a lot to promise. Still, you nod.

“You’re going to be a brave girl, and come over my knee without a fuss?”

“Yes, mummy.” That much, you think you can manage. What comes after is anybody’s guess. “I promise.”

Bravery, for so long, meant stoicism to you, as if the two were interchangeable. You’d always assumed that they were. The first time you’d done something like this, been brought to a helpless flood of tears at her hand, the shame of losing control in such a way had almost crushed you; the memory of her fingers combing through your hair as she crooned how well you’d done, how brave you’d been for her, never fails to give you strength now. For all of her madness, there is method, and for all of her sadism there is an odd sort of compassion.

You don’t doubt that she enjoys her role in this. Missy has no pretences about her desires, and even while she soothes or rebukes you in the midst of your torment she makes no bones about how gratified she is to be inflicting it. The pleasure of watching you endure for her is only ever made sweeter by the shrieking, sobbing, squirming evidence of just how much you’re suffering.

Your devotion is paid in blood, in sweat, in boundless tears. Hers is paid in the freedom to give them.

She strips off your leggings and your knickers and leaves you standing there in your oversized shirt, braless beneath it. The hem covers what little modesty you may have.

“On, or off?” Missy toys with the fabric, cocking her head as she gazes up at you. You pause for a moment to consider the question. It’s comfortable, this shirt - one of your favourites, one that smells of her and feels soft and warm enough that you reached for it this morning as soon as you knew what kind of day it was going to be.

“On,” you answer eventually. “Please.”

“As you like, poppet.” She sits further back on the bed and pats her lap. “Come on, then. Let’s have you.”

It should be absurd, this entire scene, the way you eagerly climb onto your knees on the bed and lie yourself across her lap without hesitation. When she lifts the hem of your shirt higher to expose your arse it should make you feel ridiculous, and it does, in a way, but there’s an inexplicable comfort that comes with that. She revels in it, in turning you into this - whatever this is - and you bask in her obvious pleasure with complete abandon.

“So well-behaved for me,” she murmurs, one hand curling into the bountiful fabric of the shirt, resting low on your back with grounding weight. “My good girl.”

You cross your arms on the duvet and cradle your face with them, cheek pressed into the damask. The first touch of her cool palm on your arse makes you shiver, and then sigh contentedly when she begins to massage and squeeze the soft flesh there.

“It’s been too long since we’ve done this, hasn’t it?” Her voice is soft, a little teasing lilt to it that makes you smile. “You know that you can ask me whenever you like.”

“I know,” you tell her again, feeling your toes curl and flex from the gentle stimulation. “I just... I feel silly. Asking you.”

“Oh, poppet.” She presses her knuckles into your back to rub there. “Taking care of you is never a chore to me, you know. It could only ever be a pleasure.”

It’s too much for you to answer to; too much for you to think on, for long, without falling apart. Luckily, she doesn’t wait for you to speak. Her ministrations cease abruptly and she lands a single, hard smack on the left side of your arse.

You jerk across her lap, breath catching. As the sting begins to sink in you hiss, near-silent, “fuck.”

“Such language,” Missy chides, hiding her amusement with enviable skill, completing the symmetry with another swat that makes you gasp. “Do you think that’s appropriate for a little girl?”

She hits you again, and you squeak, shaking your head emphatically “No, mummy. I’m sorry.”

“I should think so.” Another smack; the warmth is slowly building under her hand, a wash of prickling pink heat. Some of the tension is starting to ease from your back, your shoulders, your neck, muscles you hadn’t realised were tight beginning to loosen. “I ought to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Oh, please don’t!” There’s barely a trace of play-acting in your panicked whimper. The first time she’d made such a threat, you’d assumed that it was in jest; you had, of course, assumed wrongly, and you have no intention of repeating that experience. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“Bold words, my dear.” When she lands a particularly sharp slap low on the curve of your arse, she follows it through, digging her fingers into the stinging flesh and squeezing hard. Your fingers wind into the duvet cover as you turn your head and cry out into the fabric. “I shan’t warn you again.”

Frankly, you’re lucky that she warned you the first time.

With that, she begins to warm you up properly. Because she is not cross, and because this is not a punishment, she doesn’t tease you. The rhythm she takes up is steady and unflinching, a pattern of blows delivered with clinical precision. That sting of warmth blooms into a glow, and then a burn, until your breaths are short and your lips are curled back in a tight grimace.

The sensation is not yet much beyond discomfort, but it’s enough to draw you out of the depths of your own mind, pulling you back into the body that she holds against hers. Beneath you is the soft wool of her skirt, the comfort of the bed you share, the stability of her powerful thighs. Above you she presses the heel of one hand into your back and uses the palm of the other to set you alight. Nothing matters, nothing exists beyond these sensations.

All too soon, she stops.

“There we are,” she coos, rubbing at the sting with tenderness you know better than to mistake for mercy. “Isn’t that nice?”

It’s beyond you to answer, but you offer her a stunted nod, nuzzling into the duvet beneath your face. You draw a steadying breath. Tears sit heavy in your eyes, waiting to fall, impatient for the pain to come.

“You’re so lovely and pink.” Her fingernails drag a spiralling pattern across your sore arse, setting your thighs trembling. “This always calms you down so nicely. You’re such a meek little thing, really. You just get yourself in a muddle, sometimes.”

She tightens her grip on your shirt, replacing the ticklish touch of her fingernails with the cool, smooth back of the spoon. It's the most tantalising threat she can give you.

“Aren’t you lucky, hmm?” She adjusts her position, lifting one leg just enough to tilt your hips and expose you better. “To have a mummy who cares about you so much?”

The first snap of wood against your already-heated skin is like a lit match. You cry out, pulled from your stupor, hands fisting into the duvet cover. It takes all of your strength to turn the expletive that races up your throat into a wordless yelp.

“Oh, you are so cherished, my love.” Her voice is soft when she strikes again, on oh, god, the exact same spot, sharp as anything. “I just adore you.”

Three, four, five times she brings the back of the spoon down in the same place, low on the curve of the right side of your arse. The skin there turns tight with blistering heat. Your throat thickens as the tears gather momentum, pitiful whimpers spilling from your grimacing mouth. Just when you think you can bear it no more, this repetitive pattern of merciless strikes, she switches sides and begins to do the same on the left.

“You really do make me terribly proud, you know.” The cadence of her words is a dizzying juxtaposition to the steady rhythm of her unfaltering smacks. “Entirely vexed, at times, but always unutterably proud.” Without warning, she switches back, catching you off guard with a blazing strike to the red-hot patch of skin she was previously administering to.

The dam breaks with a vengeance.

You shriek, lurching forwards, holding tight to the duvet as the tears begin to fall, it seems, all at once. The speed with which it overcomes you is startling. Your hips shift over her lap, legs kicking weakly, vainly seeking to retreat from the pain.

“Good girl,” Missy croons, winding more of the fabric of your shirt into her fist to keep you from moving too far. “There you go. You just relax and let me help.”

Having achieved what she’d set out to do, piercing the thin skin that held back your cries, she sets to work on turning the rest of your arse as sore as the two spots she’s been abusing with such precision.

You might be begging; it’s hard to tell. It’s hard to notice anything but the faultless way she applies her chosen weapon to your stinging flesh, carrying you on a wave of incandescent pain through that horrifying moment of losing control. You twist, you writhe, you push your face into the sheets until the fabric turns wet and cool with tears, and all the while she feeds the fire in your skin and soothes you with soft praise.

When you finally reach back, overcome by the pain, every square inch of skin tight and blazing, she knocks your hands away.

“Enough,” you manage, through great, hiccupping sobs. “Enough, that’s enough-”

“Almost, poppet.” She presses her hand down into the small of your back again, rubbing firmly, easing the cries from your lungs. “Just a little bit longer.”

“No, no, but-” wiping your streaming eyes with the back of your hand, you squirm in her grip. “I’m done, I- I don’t want-”

“Oh, hush now.” She cuts you off, striking again, this time lower; the sensitive patches at the very tops of your thighs, the spots you feel when you walk or sit, are still due to be paid attention in full. “If something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well, dearest. I take my duty to you very seriously. I’d hate to leave you wanting.”

Wanting is, perhaps, a strong word for it, but she does have a point. Being pushed just beyond the limits of your comfort never fails to leave you feeling better, in the end, once the tears have dried up and the endorphins begin to fade.

Fortunately for you, pushing is Missy’s speciality.

You’re a mess before she’s finished. The duvet cover is twisted up in your hands, folds of it stuffed into your mouth to muffle the helpless cries streaming from you. Your shoulders shake with desperate sobs. The heat that radiates from your punished skin seems to flow all the way down, merging seamlessly with the warmth of the slippery arousal that spills from you almost as readily as your tears, until it’s impossible to recall the border between desire and distress. Every nerve is alive and screaming. For half a second you wonder what could have possibly possessed you to ask for this.

And then she stops; and you remember.

“There’s my brave little girl.”

Slender fingers card through your hair, the palm of her other hand sweeping across your overheated skin. You keen miserably into the duvet, struggling to catch your breath, nuzzling against her hands. She clicks her tongue in sympathy.

“Oh, poppet.” The heel of her hand presses into the sore flesh of your arse, making you yelp and jerk, but this deeper pressure helps to ease the worst of the overwhelming sting. “Shh, shh, it’s alright. Just let it go. Mummy’s got you.”

Missy takes to this role as she takes to everything; with complete and utter mastery. She coaxes every drop of pent up emotion from you with her tireless hands, soothing pain as readily as she inflicts it, consoling what feels inconsolable. With immeasurable patience she cradles you in her lap while your wracking sobs die down into pitiful whimpers.

“There we are,” she coos eventually, scratching gently at your scalp with her blunt fingernails. “Do you feel that? It’s all gone, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you admit with a sniffle. “Think so.”

“Oh, I know so, dearest.” Satisfied that you’ve calmed down, she lightens her touch again, letting her fingertips trail across the intense heat left behind by her ministrations. Her touch feels like ice and you shiver. “Just like magic. I’m really rather good, if I do say so myself.”

It strengthens you, and you roll your eyes fondly, blinking away the last of the tears. Your smile is watery and genuine. “You’re the best.”

“Oh, you know it makes me all tingly when you say things like that.” Her fingers spiral lower. As they creep towards the apex of your thighs you start to shift over her lap again, for an altogether different reason. In the afterglow of pain, the catharsis of weeping, your earlier arousal makes itself known once more. “My sweet little girl. You look delightful like this.”

It’s supposed to be teasing, but the brush of her fingers against the inside of your parted thighs makes your breath hitch, turning the question into a tentative whisper. “Really?”

“Really.” You spread your legs wider, allowing her the space to spider-walk her fingers along the inside of your right thigh, drawing your attention to just how slick you are. “All pretty in pink, and behaving so nicely for me. I could do anything to you.”

“Would you?” You risk a glance over your shoulder for the first time and find her eyeing you with a mischievous twinkle. It makes your heart race. “Please, mummy?”

“Oh, you are incorrigible, my dear.” She pats the back of your thigh, just shy of the sore spots. “Up you come. Let me see that lovely smile.”

Shifting back up onto your knees is awkward, and the hem of your shirt falls back down with the movement to irritate your stinging skin. Missy holds you steady as you sit back on your heels beside her.

“There it is.” Her fingers curl beneath your jaw, gently tilting your face to her. Conscious of the state you must be in, cheeks flushed, eyes red, dry tears cracking on your face, you smile weakly. “Do I get a kiss, now that you’ve finished sulking?”

There’s no trace of admonition in the words. Your smile widens, and you nod tentatively. “Yes, please.”

“Such good manners.” She grins sharply, leaning in to nuzzle your nose with hers. “It’s a wonder I don’t do this every day.”

Her fingernails skim along the curve of your jaw when she kisses you, tickling your earlobe until you giggle into her mouth. In her lips you can feel the curve of a genuine smile; not teasing, not mocking, utterly without performance. It makes your heart flutter.

When you break away your arms loop around her shoulders. “Thank you,” you murmur against her cheek. “Really. Thank you for this.”

“My pleasure, dearest.” Trailing her fingertips down your neck, she adds softly, “I mean it, you know. Every word.”

You hold tighter to her, feeling yet another prickle of tears. It’s easier, like this - easier for her to say it, easier for you to hear it, how deeply she cares for you. When your role is meek acquiescence you can lie still and let her worship you, and she, for her part, can do it, free of interruption or inhibition. In these moments it occurs to you that you are not the only one liberated from shame.

Your lips catch the corner of her mouth. “I know.”

Again, with effortlessness that astounds you, she catches you before you can fall into another well of emotion.

In a vertiginous display of speed she knocks you onto your back on the bed and straddles you to pepper your face with soft kisses. You shriek with delight, squirming underneath her, the raised pattern of the damask duvet cover irritating your stinging skin in a way that feels entirely too sensuous. The plentiful folds of her wool skirt warm your hips and thighs.

“That- ah!” Her hands dart underneath your shirt, fingers wriggling against your sides. “Mummy, that tickles!”

“My goodness, does it really?” Feigning innocence, she shifts lower, working feathery kisses over your throat now instead. “And this?”

“Yes!” You shiver under her touch when she drags her fingers further down, over your hips.

“Oh, well, I suppose I’ll stop, then.” Missy pauses dead still, her fingers curling into the dimples of your hips, her keen eyes fixed on your face as she peers up at you. She’s poised to strike, moments away from slotting herself between your thighs, and you bite your lip.

“Well... no.” Face heating under her gaze, you shift against her, rolling your hips. “I didn’t say that.”

“Make your mind up, poppet,” she teases, but she resumes her journey and swiftly has your legs hooked around her shoulders, her arms looped about your thighs to keep you open for her. Your back arches when you feel her breath against your vulva. “Are we playing, or aren’t we?”

The sight of her, lying on her stomach, her stockinged feet in the air and her ankles demurely crossed as she gazes, catlike, up from between your legs, plucks your spine with desire.

“Yes, please.” Once more, you tangle your hands in the duvet. “Please, mummy.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Her face splits into the familiar predatory grin and she holds your gaze as the flat of her tongue strokes the length of you. It’s enough to make you quiver, a hoarse cry ripped from your mouth at the heat, the velvet-soft touch of her. You can feel her throaty chuckle in your bones and when she pulls back, the loss makes you whimper.

“If you’re a very good girl, I might even let you choose a toy.”

#mine #nsfwork #missy x reader #the master x reader #gomez!master x reader #mummy kink tw #mommy kink tw #daddy kink tw #request #does it piss anyone else off how much i overuse italics in literally all of my fics????#i have a Lot to Emphasise and i've tried not doing it but it just Feels Wrong

80 notes · View notes