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#this came to me in a fit of procrastination
skrrtscree · 7 months
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Just a call away... 🦋💙
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ghostlyheart · 2 years
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I um... I missed you 🍊
I really have Feelings about Olu and Jim :') so happy these crazy kids got together
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therineye · 4 months
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some people who write magnus archives fic have never lived in a flat as a person in their 20s and it shows
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star-girl69 · 1 month
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Because Of You
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader
—-
synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.
a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask
thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!
Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)
warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!
—-
When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.
The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.
Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.
It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.
Until Alek came along.
You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.
You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.
And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.
But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.
While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.
So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.
Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.
Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.
—-
After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.
Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.
Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.
She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.
“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.
And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.
And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.
But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.
It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.
And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.
And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.
This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.
And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.
She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.
And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.
“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”
And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.
—-
The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.
It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.
As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.
And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.
But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.
Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.
Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.
But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.
Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.
All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.
And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.
“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.
She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”
You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”
She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.
“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.
And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.
A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.
But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.
And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.
—-
You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.
You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.
You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.
Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.
But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.
You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.
Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.
And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.
It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.
The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.
You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.
“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.
“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.
Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.
Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.
You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.
She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.
Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.
“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.
You suck in a breath. “Alek.”
“Al-huh?”
You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.
“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”
“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”
“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”
“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”
You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”
She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.
“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”
“Clarisse.”
“Beat him up?”
“Clarisse.”
“Physically threaten him?”
“Clar-”
She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”
“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.
“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”
“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.
“Mean.”
—-
Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.
Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.
All it says is:
I miss you, we could be something
She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.
She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.
“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.
She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.
“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”
“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.
She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.
“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”
—-
Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.
A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.
The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.
Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.
There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.
“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.
You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.
She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.
“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.
Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.
“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”
You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.
“Hopefully,” she echoes.
But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.
—-
Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.
At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.
Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.
The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.
It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.
The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.
It feels like nothing can hurt you here.
But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.
The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.
The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.
Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.
“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”
The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.
“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.
She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.
Her tone is genuinely confused.
“Are you, like, okay in the head?”
The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.
“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.
Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.
“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.
“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”
“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”
There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.
You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.
You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.
“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”
“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”
“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.
And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.
Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.
—-
You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.
Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.
“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.
“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”
She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.
“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”
She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.
“You’re crazy,” you mutter.
She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”
“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.
“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.
You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.
“You know I did.”
“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.
“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.
Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.
It feels so good to know she loves you.
When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.
“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.
“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”
You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.
“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”
“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”
—-
y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire
silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health
clarisse just being proud as hell
—-
this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄
—-
possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1
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reclinepilled · 28 days
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needy, e.w.
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cw: fluff!!! little angst, pet names (baby, beautiful, sweetheart, princess, gorgeous) like one curse word, reader yells at ellie, reader cries a teeny tiny bit, no masc/fem roles are established
desc: gamer!ellie is glued to her game while your patience runs short. also soft!ellie🙏.
a/n: happy march 1st guys! i wanted to share something i wrote while procrastinating some work. thanks for all the support on my last two posts. also the anon that sent in the request, im working on it <3 thank you for reading and reblogs are welcomed and greatly appreciateddd !
wc: 801 (i think)
PLEASE READ HERE ON INFORMATION ABOUT AND HOW TO HELP PALESTINE!!!
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you try not to be so needy, you really do. however, your heart can't help but get a little heavy watching ellie completely ignore your presence on one of your days off. and she's not even ignoring you to study or work, it's to play her stupid games.
sure, you played your fair share of video games, as you had an undying love for that one genre. however, you didn't come over under the impression that you'd be getting lonely in her bed, angry, while occasionally letting out a frustrated sigh. she didn't pay attention to those, too busy yelling at her friends on whatever fps shooter she was glued to.
you got angrier and angrier thinking about it and listening to her mash the buttons on her keyboard and throw insults out into her mic. you swear you can feel the annoyance in your bloodstream. you just wanted to do skincare and facemasks, watch some movies, and maybe even bake with your girlfriend. you decide to put your anger aside and give her the benefit of the doubt. you get up from her bed to remind her of what you two had planned. maybe she forgot?
"ellie, baby?" you say as you grab her shoulder softly to get her attention. she glances up at you then moves her headset off one of her ears, "yea- jesse, what the hell! he was literally one hp!" she yells. "anyways, sorry, what's up?" ellie finally gives you two scoops of her attention. "el, i thought we were gonna spend time together..," you say, shifting your weight to one leg as you cross your arms. "yea, yea, of course. just give me five more minutes," ellie says as she turns back to her game. "you literally said that 30 minutes ago, el," you sigh. "i mean it this time," ellie turns to you, doing a puppy face jokingly.
any other time you would burst into a fit of laughter, however right now, you were genuinely pissed off. you stare at her for a few seconds in silence, she stares back. her face slowly drops as she realizes you're pretty upset. next thing you know, you've reached over and put her pc into sleep mode. "y/n! why!??" she whines like a teenage boy going through puberty. "because, i came over on my day off to spend time with you, i could be getting a manicure or something.. but i've spent nearly an hour and a half watching you play this shitty game!" you yell then you walk out of her room, fed up. you grab your bag next to the couch and start to put your belongings away.
"sweetheart! i'm sorry, i really am!" she says as she follows you out of the room. you ignore her, now putting your bag on your shoulder. "look," ellie comes in front of you and softly slides the bag off of your shoulder, she notices how you're still looking down. she gently grabs your shoulders while looking down at you with an apologetic look on her face, "i am so sorry, i just got caught up in the game. i enjoy you being here, and i find your presence so comforting, beautiful. i never meant to make you feel unappreciated, i'm sorry once again." she takes her hand and lifts your face up, and notices your tear stained cheeks.
ellie's heart quite honestly shattered into a million pieces, she didn't know she made you feel so bad but she understands now. "baby, we can do whatever you want," she pulls you into a meaningful embrace while rubbing your back. "els, i love you, sorry for yelling and overreacting-" she cuts you off, "no don't apologize, it was pretty justified, i was being dumb," she lets out an airy laugh, "i love you back, princess."
she could feel you smile against her chest and it felt like 10 tons were lifted off of her back. she pulls away to place a soft kiss on your forehead, then your nose, one on your cheek, and long one on your lips.
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you straddle her on her bed while softly chuckling at the cute fuzzy animal headband you placed on ellie's head. you roll the jade roller all over her face, working in the serum you applied before. you can't help but admire how pretty she is. her constellations of freckles, each one so unique, her breathtaking deep eyes, and her long lashes you were so jealous of. little did you know, she was doing the same. you looked like a goddess from this angle, the light cascading down on your perfect figure emphasizing it. "hey baby?" ellie grabs your wrist. "yea, gorgeous?" you slightly lean back from her face, raising a brow.
"it's really hot when you yell at me."
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reclinepilled
please do not plagiarize any of my works or post them on other websites without given permission !
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gender-trash · 3 months
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(i am seriously late in posting about this due to The Problems BUT whatever! its here now!!)
somewhere around late november 2022, i asked my dad "hey are there any out of print technical books you'd like a reprint of for christmas?"
he linked me to a dubious black-and-white pdf of Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy. now, i wound up checking out a copy through link+, and the original edition is a really nicely put together book! the chapters are themed around various types of measurements (length, angle, etc), and they all have these cute little diagrams which the endpapers reuse in a lil repeating pattern... the image captions are done in this really lovely dark red that did not scan for SHIT... tons and tons of diagrams and illustrations and images (both color and b&w)... just, all around, a fucking nice book!! (see also @morrak's post about it here.)
and that made me feel kind of bad about the crappiness of the pdf, which is where the Problems began. i used my phone to take pictures of all the photos and color diagrams in the original and went about replacing them in the pdf, using what turned out to be the world's worst pdf editing software (i also got through replacing all the image captions in chapter 1 of 5 before my dad convinced me to give up). i did NOT finish the pdf editing before christmas 2022 (i was going somewhat off the deep end, because both my housemates were away visiting family and i had zero external structure in my life so it was just me and my cat and this stupid FUCKING pdf wrecking my sleep schedule together); i poked away at it for most of the rest of my time off and then got so goddamn sick of it i put the project away for months. "it'll be a birthday gift instead", i said optimistically (my dad's birthday is in april! it should have been enough time!)
gentle readers, i did not finish the pdf editing by april. mostly because it was such a miserable slog that i put it off until the last possible moment and then tried to make up for it with another death march.
hating both myself and the project again, i decided i was Not going to let myself typeset Anything Else before it was done, and then took a break to bind my immortal (using the renegade publishing typeset! i didn't do any typesetting!!). SURELY, i said, i can finish this in time for christmas 2023.
i'm sure you know where this is going.
in my defense i DID finish the pdf editing by christmas, despite first doing every other possible procrastination project (including a second edition of the little second century warlord book), because by this point my dad had managed to convince me to lower my standards. on the evening of the 22nd i kicked off the print job and said to myself "this will finish printing overnight and then tomorrow i can work on sewing the textblock!"
late on the 23rd, after lots of babysitting and using at least one cartridge of every color ink in my printer, the print job was finally done. (my sweet and lovely cat wants SO BADLY to hunt and stalk the printer while it is printing -- more specifically, the printed pages, i think because they tend to make noise and move and then STOP moving. for this reason, the printer is kept in the craft room, because the cat can be shut out of the craft room and thus prevented from chewing on the pages when i have an all-day book printing job going. unfortunately the craft room was also being pressed into service as a guest room at the time so 80% of the floor space was consumed by an air mattress which i had to repeatedly trip over in order to reach the printer and replace the ink cartridges.)
then i went to my parents' house on the 24th and 25th and apologized to my dad (again) for not having the book finished. but this worked out well because we finished putting together my awesome new book clamp:
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(the feet still aren't done being painted so they're just dry-fit on for now but you can still clamp books in it and that's what matters!!)
i came home, sewed the textblock (french link stitch over four linen tapes, with sewn endbands made of variegated embroidery floss over linen cord, and kozo paper glued over the spine)
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... and promptly realized i SHOULD HAVE PUT IN MORE OF A GUTTER because some of the text was getting reeeeeeal close to the spine. "it's fine!" i said. "i just have to make sure it lays flat!! what better time than to try out K118 binding, a technique i have literally never done before and which people on the bookbinding discord notoriously have a hard time pulling off first try! i even have tyvek tape for it!"
so it turns out that tyvek tape isn't actually tyvek with glue on it, it's tape FOR attaching pieces of tyvek TO EACH OTHER, which maybe i could have guessed if i'd done even the slightest amount of research or planning. at this point i think it was the 27th and i was still angling to get this thing done by new year's, so no time to order Actual Tyvek.
fortunately, i had ALSO received An Package in the mail with yarn for a totally unrelated knitting project... shipped in a tyvek envelope.
i peeled all the shipping labels and stickers off my tyvek envelope, cut that shit up, and glued it on there.
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and THEN it was time for gluing on covers, which i thought was going to be easy because i had actually thought ahead and ordered materials (specifically acid-free museum board), except when i cracked open the box of museum board i decided i Didn't Like It because the surface was too soft and easily dented, so i glued onto it the too-thin board material i'd previously been using (so that the cardboard goes on the outside of the book). this worked super well (the cardboard stuff has a tendency to curl up from the glue moisture, but the museum board doesn't!) and i'll probably use it on other stuff in the future.
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i thought the blue bookcloth i used was kind of boring but i showed my dad the available cloth options and he really liked it, so... what do you know? i cut the piece i used on the back cover very slightly too short but it wound up being covered by the leather, so you can barely tell.
and the leather... a scrap just baaaaarely big enough from my bag of leather scraps from discount fabrics... and this the first time i'd ever attempted to put leather on a book... AND YET the only complaint i have is that i didn't manage to put an even amount on the front and back. it's reasonably square and straight!! amazing!!
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i am super super happy with how this project came out (especially given the number of problems i encountered) and oh my god check out how much the spine bends
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AND, AS A NEW YEAR'S PRESENT, I FINALLY MANAGED TO GIVE IT TO MY DAD
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Capitano x GN Reader (SAGAU)
Am I writing this nearly a year after I said I would? Yes. My bad gang, the procrastination got the better of me. Honestly, looking back over my old writing on this account, I’m shocked I didn’t do Capitano sooner because I was/am obsessed with this tall, beefy man. (ngl, while reading some of my old writing, i was kicking my feet a little, past me was lowkey good at writing when I wanted to be). This is loosely based around what I was planning on writing for him last year, so hopefully it fits well into the story?
Contains - Capitano being actually so whipped for you, him trying to keep his distance and failing miserably, he ignores you for like a minute and you end up contemplating your life choices (real, i'm so not projecting here), he is very insecure about not being good enough for you (despite being the perfect man), dottore is lowkey more likeable here than in his own ending, mentions of murder, obsessive behaviour from all the fatui
Part one is here - the masterlist for the other endings is here
“Capitano?”
It almost surprised you quickly the Harbingers fell silent, as though even one word from you had stolen the air from their lungs, their arguments trailing away into a deafening silence. You waited, a confusing mix of anticipation and fear filling your chest as you stared at the half-opened door.
But no one came.
There were soft whispers and retreating footsteps, shadows that crept across your room as people bustled around in the hallway (Was it a hallway? Or another room? You couldn’t be certain). You heard a cold female voice giving hushed orders, but even her voice faded as you waited uneasily for some recognition of your words, of your pleading call for Capitano.
But no one came.
He had been there, outside your door, you knew that for certain. You heard him, condemning the other nations for attacking you, another Harbinger had even called him by name. So why was is, that when you called his name, he did not answer? Was he too busy, too disinterested, too proud, to speak with you? The door remained unmoving, and you began to wish that you had never said anything in the first place, even as you refused to look away from the door.
But no one came. 
It had been a mistake, you decided. Whatever offence you had somehow caused him was clearly great enough for him to ignore you, to reject your pleading request for him, to turn his back on the chambers that you rested in. Perhaps, when the other Harbingers returned, you could ask them to pass along your sincerest apologies to your favourite Harbinger (although you would not mention that he was your favourite to them). Maybe that would heal whatever rift had apparently formed between-
“Your Grace?”
Capitano stood in the doorway, straight-backed and with his hands clenched at his sides. Even a cursory glance could tell you that he was not thrilled about having to be in your presence.
“I’m sorry for my tardiness. I was asking the other Harbingers if any of them were able to attend to you in my stead, but it seems they are … unavailable.”
He slowly stepped into the room and made his way over to the fireplace, keeping a large distance between the two of you as he did so, refusing to step too close to the bed you sat in. 
“If you have any pressing concerns or questions, I can pass them along to the other Harbingers or to the Tsaritsa. I’m afraid that I will be of little help to you, but I will see to it that the others are aware of your needs.”
This was worse than being ignored, you decided. His cold, impersonal words, his desire to keep his distance from you, even his stiff posture, it also pointed to one thing. He hated you. He could barely stand to be in a room with you, let alone make conversation with you. 
You felt silly all of a sudden, for thinking that your favourite character would hold any sort of affection towards you. You felt a sudden tightness in your throat, and had to fight back the tears that threatened to appear.
“I’m very sorry to bother you so trivally, Capitano. I had just wished to speak to you, but if you are busy, I will not keep you. Please, return to your duties.”
You were impressed by how steady you were able to keep your voice, even as you still fought back tears. But Capitano did not move, instead he almost seemed to tense up more. 
“I did not mean-” To your shock his voice wavered more than yours and his composed facade seemed to crumble in an instant.
“It is not that I do not wish to serve you, I just… I don’t … I can’t…”
He hesitantly took a step forward, then another, before falling to his knees by your bedside. You watched, mind still reeling at how quickly his demeanour had changed, as his shaking, gloved hands clutched at his chest, as though he feared his heart might stop at any moment.
“Please, I beg you, do not hate me! I could not- I cannot live with myself if you think I adore anyone or anything else more than you. But I cannot serve you, I am not worthy. I failed you, when you arrived at Zapolyarny Palace, I was unable to help you! I am-”
His frantic words were cut off with a sudden sob, and tears began to appear at the bottom of his mask, dripping down his chin. His breaths were shallow and desperate, with his hands upon his chest digging into his flesh more with every passing moment. 
“Capitano…” You whispered softly, still trying to make sense of his suddenly erratic behaviour, while also wanting to soothe whatever pain he was suffering. 
“I am not like the other Harbingers. I am useless to you, Divine One. When you were brought to the palace, I was asked to bring you upstairs, so the Doctor could operate on you, but I was too scared. I feared that if I touched you, you would shatter to pieces in my grasp. My hands were not made to be gentle and you were already so close to death, I could not do it. The boy, Tartaglia, was the one who carried you in the end. I was too cowardly.”
“You don’t need to compare yourselves to the others, Capitano. You were merely concerned for my safety.”
“You do not understand. The Doctor brought every one of his segments home so they could operate on you together. When your wound became infected and a fever took you, Signora lay by your side and kept you cool, even as your skin burned. Pantalone has not slept since you arrived and he will not sleep, he says, until your chambers are furnished to perfection. Arlecchino has sent out every member of the House of the Hearth to kill those who dared to harm you, with orders to return with their heads as proof. And I sit here, idle, unable to assist you. The reason the other Harbingers could not attend to you, is because they are already doing so. I fail you, Your Grace, by being unable to find a way of serving you!”
You found yourself quite lost for words, unsure of how to respond to Capitano’s increasingly defeated behaviour. You weren’t really sure what you expected from The Captain, but this was definitely not it. His sadness and self-loathing made you want to ease his mind somehow, to find him a purpose that would hopefully make him, your favourite, feel more wanted. 
“I think … I think I might sleep now, Capitano.”
He merely nodded, before turning his face away from you and shakily standing once more.
“But-!” You lunged forward, grabbing him by his arm before he could move out of your grasp. His head whipped around, mask concealing whatever emotions his face might have shown.
“But I was wondering if you might stay? With all those people who tried to kill me, I would feel quite unsafe, sleeping alone and defenceless. I need someone strong to protect me and how fortunate am I that you do not have other duties to attend to, but can instead stay by my side!”
You paused, holding your breath, hoping that would be enough to convince him. He stared at you (at least, you assumed he was staring at you, the mask made it difficult) for a long moment, long enough that you began to wonder if he had even heard you properly.
“You want me to protect you, Your Grace? I… Yes. Yes, I can do that. Just- Just give me a moment.”
And he was gone, his arm pulled from your grasp, and his cloak swishing out the door. You barely had time to wonder what he had left for, before he returned. With a chair under one arm and a truly massive blade under the other, he swiftly reentered the room, positioning the chair right beside your bed. 
“There. Is that all right, Divine One? Do you need me to sit closer, or further away?”
“No, no, it’s fine, Capitano.” You laughed, grateful that he seemed more … positive? At the very least, he didn’t appear to be as miserable as before.
You lay back down, turning to face Capitano, who was balancing the sword across his lap as he watched you. Under normal circumstances, the idea of sleeping in the same room as somebody with a sword would have freaked you out, but with the stress of the last few days catching up to you, you found yourself more tired than you had realised.
You stretched a hand out towards Capitano wordlessly, who eyed it apprehensively.
“Can you hold my hand?”
He stared at your hand for a few more moments, before slowly placing his own hand upon yours, so softly that you could barely feel it. 
“Sweet dreams, Your Grace.”
Finally, we got there! Hopefully yall like this, i feel like the ending is a bit rushed, but god I love a man who pines. I’m probably going to write Pantalone next, this lowkey gave me some ideas for his ending. I’m also thinking about writing some non sagau stuff, I've got some thoughts about arranged marriage stuff with diluc and ayato <3
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biibini · 3 months
Text
modern!mizu headcannons
a/n: my brain has been nothing but her so it’s ab time i write ab her. i’ve read a bunch of modern!mizu headcannons ab her but i need more !! it becomes a drabble at the end but my girl deserves peace and happiness pls
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i’ve read a lot of hc w her in uni so i’ll prob stick to the similar things ive read + more
modern!mizu would def be in university studying mechanical engineering
ik this is specific but pls hear me out it fits bc shes a smartie & her adopted dad (master eiji) was a very technical person when she was growing up
she’s also in uni due to an engineering scholarship
modern!mizu is usually at the gym if it wasn’t for classes and fixing her bike
yes she has a motorcycle. i stand by this hc and many others who share similar ideas.
prob a kawasaki ninja but decked out w her own alternations
modern!mizu is a gym rat but is too stubborn to admit it, esp after taigen pointed it out once
likes to go in the early morning for the peace and quiet
she typically goes in for cardio and weights to keep her healthy and in shape but has dabbled in calisthenics before
taigen used to fence w her before he got into other sports such as basketball
(random thought but he just looks like he would play basketball player)
modern!mizu is very smart… but has a slight huge problem with procrastination
akemi has tried many studying techniques with mizu but it ends up her procrastinating and finishing alone
she prefers studying alone in the library or at her desk, until you came along
(ill elaborate on mizu & reader another time)
modern!mizu cannot cook for shit i’m sorry
she can kinda chef it up but it’s taken her a while she nearly burnt the kitchen and has repeatedly turned on the fire alarm and now ringo has ptsd
usually ringo will cook something or help her cook
speaking of ringo
her and ringo are roommates in off-campus housing 2 bed 2 bath
at first, dad eiji was a bit hesitant since he was helping mizu move in but warmed up to ringo once he cooked them dinner (his mom’s soba recipe)
mizu swears she saw a tear roll down her dad’s cheek that day
modern!mizu usually dresses more casually and comfy but still likes her dark blues
not to self indulge but she would like the baggy acubi look that she can move in
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(i know this is so inaccurate of others’ headcannons but pls the baggy button up + slingbag combo would go crazy)
ik she got a uniqlo drawstring sling bag
or just any sporty crossbody sling bag
hear me out pls
it’s easier to get on and balance on her motorcycle with comfy clothes and a secure bag
on mizu’s and ringo’s move-in “anniversary” (as ringo like to call it), he got her a lil keychain for her bag with a jingle on it as a joke to her initial move-in gift to him: a bell for being so silent
modern!mizu usually keeps to herself and her friends
after her ex bf m*k*o (yes im censoring his name he doesnt deserve to be typed out) , she’s very cautious of who to trust
thankfully, ringo, akemi, and taigan (as much of an ass as he is) has taught her to open up and be okay with who she is
but there are days when she prefers to be alone and sticking to her own business in peace and quiet
headphones on locked in 🎧
modern!mizu likes to wind down before bed with some chamomile or lavender tea
her temper used to control her feelings, especially when she was much younger
having a small routine at night keeps her calm & well rested
eiji initially started this routine after their long days of welding in the backyard
she can’t cook but give her a teapot and tea leaves, she will make it right
(ok im done imagining her life lets get to the good stuff)
modern!mizu loves little touches
whether it’s holding u by ur hand or shoulder or waist, her hand will always be there
her main love language is physical touch
the more comfortable she gets with u, the longer she’ll leave her hand on u
whenever u and her are out at a party or gathering, u implemented the secret squeeze if either one of u wants to get out
u haven’t used it before but mizu did a few times
it was when she just wanted to be closer to u in the comfort of her own bed
modern!mizu enjoys shopping w u
she kind of knows her style: comfy and light
but she never explored how to pair clothes together until u showed her some basic pairing
when she first met akemi, she was uncomfortable with more feminine styles and shopping for going-out tops with her
it mainly stems from just not knowing a lot of trends and seeing a wide range of items
she got accustomed the items but seeing u have fun trying new tops
totally not sneaking into the changing room and stealing a few kisses many kisses
modern!mizu also enjoys holding ur things for u
she won’t say it explicitly but she is silently expressive ab it
u need someone to hold ur drink while u fix ur shoes? she got it. need someone to hold ur bag while u go to the bathroom? she got it.
need someone to get a glass of water even though ur all comfy in bed? she will get it (for a price aka some extra cuddles & kisses)
she’s also the type of put ur hand behind ur back when ur in a crowd
ok thats all for now but hope u enjoyed ♡
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cherryobx · 3 months
Note
hiiii here to help you procrastinate! I suck at requests but I’m gonna make one and you can just see if you want to use it or not :)) so since I can’t personally hug you since your 24 hours away by car and I don’t have a drivers licence I want something cozy 👉👈 I’ve recently been obsessed with someone and for the first time I followed a twitch live stream because of him and it was so comforting to just listen to him play a game that I could fall asleep. so maybe something like gamer bf/gf and a sleepy reader OR a bookish reader, they’re gaming and the other reading or something. I want the coziness. but I have no clue if this is information that you can do something with so do whatever you want :)) and if you want to use it you can choose the character ☺️
Company || J.M.
Summary: JJ, your gamer bf, comes over and you spend a cozy evening together, sort of.
Word count: 0.7k
Warnings: no knowledge of gaming whatsoever, other than that none
A/N: thank you babe for this request!!!!!! and thank you for supporting my procrastination haha, hope you enjoy whatever this is (don't judge i haven't written anything in soooo long)
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JJ kept all of his gaming equipment at your place. He was scared of what his father might do if he ever got his hands on it in a fit of drunken rage. It was very expensive, he saved up for more than a year to afford all of it. You made space in your bedroom for another table so he could have his gaming station and his own little corner to game in. 
You loved when he was over at your place to play his video games you knew pretty much nothing about. It was a way for you to spend time together. Not in the sense that you were conversing or doing some activity together but just being in the same room with each other, enjoying each other’s company. It was so mundane but so sweet.
He had his headset on but only one of his ears was covered. When you asked about it one time he said he wanted to make sure he could still hear you if you needed anything. But in reality he also enjoyed the little sounds you made over at the other side of the room, whether it was blowing on your steaming tea, turning the pages of your book or the little laughs you let out when a character said something funny in your current read.
One evening he came over to game with his friends. He could tell you were tired just by the way you dragged your feet behind you and how you kept yawning every two seconds. You had a really long day behind you and all you wanted to do was curl up into a little ball under the warm covers in your bed and fall asleep.
He followed you into your bedroom and watched you flop face first onto the bed.
“Are you okay?” He took a seat next to you and placed his hand on your back, rubbing it in a relaxing motion making your eyelids fall closed.
“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled into the duvet.
“I don’t have to play right now, I can just tell them I can’t tonight. I’ll cuddle with you instead.”
But you insisted. “No. Go game with your friends. I’ll be out like a light in two seconds. Don’t even worry about me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Just come to bed when you’re done.”
“Of course.” He smiled and gave you a small kiss on your temple. 
He helped you crawl under the covers and tucked you in, making your heart swell. He gave you another kiss but this time on the lips. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips before he stood up and sat down in his gaming chair behind the desk you had gotten him.
He turned everything on and logged into whatever game he was supposed to be playing with his friends that night.
His voice was quiet when speaking to his friends, he didn’t want to disturb you more than he already has. He kind of felt guilty about his situation although you had reassured him many times that you aren’t bothered by his stuff in your room. You actually liked that a piece of him was always in your personal space.
“Sorry, my girl’s sleeping,” he whispered into the microphone. It tugged the corners of your mouth upwards in your sleepy haze.
You didn’t really focus on his hushed conversations but the low tone of his voice was so calming and relaxing, it lulled you to sleep in no time.
When JJ finally finished up with his friends, he took the headphones off, placed them on the monitor and quietly made his way to your bed. Lifting the covers gently, he climbed underneath them and joined you in the warmth of your bed. 
He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against him, stirring you from your sleep.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“‘S okay,” you slurred, already falling back asleep. JJ nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent and feeling the sleep take him over as well.
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shadowtriovibes · 10 months
Text
dance in a storm in my best dress
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Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3K
Summary: by request: "I have a fun idea! How about Sebastian and f!mc are "just friends" until one day she asks him to help her try on/give his opinion on some new dresses, and desire and spice ensue??"
"Go on and change back into your robes, Mister Sallow," the shopkeeper says. "I suspect we’ll be inquiring about your opinion shortly." While Sebastian returns to the back, Mr. Hill summons a modesty screen around the rack of dresses you’d pulled and waits patiently while you slip out of your school robes and wrestle your way into that first dress – the periwinkle blue. There are so many layers that it takes you at least ten minutes to even put on your crinoline, which Mr. Hill assures you he’ll let you keep on for all three options. "Have you even put one on yet?" you hear Sebastian call out when he returns. "Merlin's beard, you’ll take on a den of trolls by yourself but you’re bested by today’s fashion trends!"
“Thank you for coming with me,” you say softly, shyly tucking your face a bit deeper into your oversized scarf as you avoid snow swirling around you.
It’s not an intense blizzard by any means, but nevertheless you appreciate that Sebastian had agreed to trudge down to Hogsmeade with you that afternoon when he could have spent the day with a dreadfully boring book by the fire in his common room, which is typically how he spends any free time he has as a seventh-year N.E.W.T.s student.
“Of course,” he says easily. “It’s about time I came up for air, so to speak.”
Despite the ongoing pressure of your final year of school, it had felt like all of Hogwarts had been abuzz about the upcoming holiday ball for what felt like weeks. Even you and your treasured trio of Slytherins had made plans to go together, and your daydreams of twirling across an enchanted dance floor in a fabulous gown had helped get you through some of the most arduous study sessions you’ve ever experienced.
With your end-of-term exams having concluded the day before, there was now only one thing standing in the way of you blowing off some steam at the ball with your best friend.
You need a dress.
Poppy had been the one to inform you that Mr. Hill had specially ordered some lovely fabrics from London as soon as he’d caught wind of an upcoming formal occasion. While it’s certainly too late to have anything custom made, you hoped you’d be able to find something in his shop that would suit you with a few minor alterations.
You’d invited Sebastian to join you on your shopping trip primarily for moral support, as the two of you were going to the ball together as friends.
(Anne had been quick to claim Ominis as her date so that she wouldn’t have to take her own brother, and you and Sebastian had been equally loath to bother asking anyone else.)
However, you suspect you may also need some help physically donning the dresses. You may not know much about what’s in fashion these days, but hearing some of your classmates boast about precisely how many garment layers they’d be wearing had nearly made your head spin.
“Do you have your dress robes?” you press him skeptically. “Anne said you were procrastinating.”
“Yes, nosy,” he laughs. “Ominis made me pick some out last weekend, and Mr. Hill should have them in for me by now.”
“Good,” you say primly. “You’ll have to try them on while we’re there and make sure they fit.”
“This is now my second trek into Hogsmeade for this silly ball,” he points out with a cheeky grin. “I hope it’s going to be as enjoyable as you lot are saying it’ll be.”
“It will,” you insist. “We all need something like this, something that’s just… joyful, I suppose.”
Sebastian glances sidelong at you with a tender smile.
“Fair point,” he agrees. “Right as usual, you are.”
“You’re still surprised after all this time?” you tease him, bumping your shoulder against his while he laughs.
When the two of you walk into Gladrags, Augustus Hill perks up excitedly and slips out from behind the ornate counter.
“Ah! Just the young witch and wizard I was hoping to see today,” he crows. “Come in, come in! I dare say, it’s awfully frigid today.”
You hang up your cloaks while Mr. Hill rustles up a tray of tea for the both of you. Ever since that troll encounter years ago, the Gladrags shopkeeper has always had a soft spot for you and Sebastian, which often results in the two of you feeling downright spoiled every time you visit him.
“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” you say as you accept the warm mug he offers.
“Mister Sallow,” he says as he hands Sebastian his tea. “Your dress robes came in just this morning! Why don’t I send you off with young Otto to try it on and mark up any alterations?”
You glance warily at Sebastian, reluctant to split from him as you do your shopping.
As though he’d read your mind, Mr. Hill laughs and insists, “He won’t be kept long, my dear! Fitting a young man’s dress robes is a much simpler task than that which you have on your hands, I should expect.”
“Why don’t you just pick out some things to try while Otto works his magic?” Sebastian teases. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Once you agree, Mr. Hill sends Sebastian to the backroom while you sip your tea and discuss some of your preferences with the kindly shopkeeper. You admit to not being very knowledgeable about fashion, but you have some colors in mind that you think may suit you – as well as very strict expectations on how much range of motion you want to maintain.
“I need to be able to breathe,” you insist, glancing hesitantly at some of the impossibly small corsets in the window display.
Peering over his spectacles with a wise smile, he answers, “I think that can be arranged.”
He then begins to show you the collection of remaining dresses he has in stock. As the premier clothier for the majority of your fellow witches at Hogwarts, he doesn’t have an unlimited supply this close to the ball, but his selections don’t disappoint.
“This blue color is quite pretty,” you sigh, gingerly inspecting the sleeve of one of the dresses he offers.
“I suspected you might like that one,” he says brightly. “Let us pull it for now and select a few more for you to try on, hmm?”
You end up also selecting a red gown with a smart-looking cape that would show off your house colors brilliantly and a crisply white evening dress with delicate golden embroidery around the bottom of the skirt.
“This should do for a start,” Mr. Hill says.
“Really? No green?” Sebastian asks from behind you.
When you turn to remind him pointlessly that you aren’t actually a Slytherin, your words fail you.
He looked utterly dashing in his dress robes. At first glance, he appeared to be wearing what looked like a Muggle tuxedo, but the extra-long tails and high collar gave away that it was most certainly wizarding apparel. His jacket and pants were both inky black – so dark that they appeared to even darken the room around him, or maybe you had just lost focus of everything that wasn’t him.
Of course, having been expertly fitted by Otto, Sebastian’s robes seem to cling to every inch of him. The waistcoat makes his waist look exceptionally narrow, or perhaps it’s that his chest looks so broad. His shoulders appear to be broader as well underneath his jacket, and while the long tails might appear to shorten other men, on Sebastian they merely elevate the length of his legs.
He slips on a pair of white gloves that Otto hands him and you bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. He looks like a proper gentleman dressed like this, you think – not at all like the haphazardly-robed young man you’re used to seeing.
“Ah! Excellent,” Mr. Hill says with a clap, breaking your trance. “A perfect fit.”
“How do I look?” Sebastian asks you teasingly.
“B-brilliant,” you stammer. “It, um. Fits. You’re fit – I mean, it fits very well.”
“Of course, we’ll charm the waistcoat to whatever color you’d like to match your dress, once you’ve made your selection,” Mr. Hill explains as he gestures to the garment. “Or simply leave it white.”
“Of course we’ll match,” Sebastian says easily. “But getting this one to make a selection isn’t going to be easy.”
You scoff and turn back around to the rack of dresses to hide your persistent blush.
“Go on and change back into your robes, Mister Sallow,” the shopkeeper says. “I suspect we’ll be inquiring about your opinion shortly.”
While Sebastian returns to the back, Mr. Hill summons a modesty screen around the rack of dresses you’d pulled and waits patiently while you slip out of your school robes and wrestle your way into that first dress – the periwinkle blue. There are so many layers that it takes you at least ten minutes to even put on your crinoline, which Mr. Hill assures you he’ll let you keep on for all three options.
“Have you even put one on yet?” you hear Sebastian call out when he returns. “Merlin’s beard, you’ll take on a den of trolls by yourself but you’re bested by today’s fashion trends!”
“Come and help me then!” you whine.
“Er – is that alright?” Sebastian asks Mr. Hill.
“Of course!” he exclaims. “He’s your date, it would be unchivalrous not to assist you.”
That’s when you realize that Mr. Hill probably thinks you and Sebastian are properly dating, but for reasons you don’t want to admit to yourself just yet, you don’t correct him.
You could also sorely use some help as well.
“Mind the petticoat,” you mumble as he ducks behind the screen.
You’re both quiet as Sebastian helps carefully bundle up the skirt of the dress and drape it over your upright arms, slowly working it down your body so that it doesn’t catch on any of the boning in your corset. Once the skirt gracefully pours down over your petticoat, you gently smooth the bodice and turn around so he can lace up the strings crossing your back.
“Too tight?” he asks softly.
“N-no,” you murmur. “You can even do them a bit tighter, actually.”
You gasp softly when he pulls on the strings and cinches your waist tighter, and Sebastian pauses for a beat, but you don’t instruct him to loosen it.
Once he fumblingly ties the strings together at the small of your back, he mumbles, “All set.”
He offers you a hand to steady you while you shuffle out from behind the screen. Mr. Hill immediately laves praise onto the dress, and while you agree that it is quite lovely, a glance in the mirror reveals that periwinkle blue just isn’t a color in which you shine.
“No matter,” the shopkeeper insists. “Onto the red, shall we?”
Sebastian again helps you slide the dress off up over your head and replace it with the red one, this time lacing you tightly from the start. There’s a delicate cape that goes with this one, so you turn around to face him so he can drape it over your shoulders and tie the small silk ribbons that sit just at your collarbones.
“Ought to be plenty warm in this one,” he jokes halfheartedly, trying and failing to resist the urge to sneak glances at your décolletage.
“Is the cape a bit…?” you ask quietly, wrinkling your nose. “Is it too much?”
“What?” he asks dumbly. “O-oh, no, I – I think you look great. It’s a great dress, really.”
You’re nearly as red as the dress when you emerge for a second time, and once again Mr. Hill thinks you look like “a buxom Beauxbatons beauty from the boulevards of Paris.” However, regardless of your house pride, if you’re going to be blushing like this all evening at the ball – and the odds on that are significant – you know you simply can’t go with red.
“I have one more to try on,” you tell Sebastian softly. “It’s that white one, just there.”
You notice Sebastian’s gaze linger on the ornate embroidery, a pleased look passing over his face.
“It’s stunning,” he tells you. “Shall we get it on you?”
You merely nod, not trusting yourself with words at the moment.
The moment Sebastian helps you slip into the white dress, you know you have a winner. As if imbued with magic (and perhaps it is indeed), the white silk shimmers almost like the fresh snow outside the shop window. However, instead of feeling like a proper ice princess, you feel warm all over – especially where Sebastian’s hands mindlessly reach out to trace the fine embroidered patterns on your bodice.
“You look…” he exhales. “You just need to see, come on.”
He walks you out for the last time and even Mr. Hill refrains from commenting until you twirl in front of the mirror, your skirt gracefully lifting and falling with your movement.
“...I look beautiful,” you whisper. “Oh, Mr. Hill, it’s just lovely.”
“This is the one,” Sebastian insists. “You have to pick this one, it’s hardly even a choice.”
“Your companion is correct!” Mr. Hill crows. “My dear, it’s as if that gown was made precisely for you.”
Otto comes by to charm a few simple adjustments into the fabric of the dress and you watch yourself in the mirror with wide eyes as it molds itself to your body. Now it looks just like one of those custom dresses in the illustrations that the girls in your year pour over in the shopping pages at the back of the Daily Prophet.
“I think we’re done here,” Sebastian says quietly, his eyes still fixed on that one embroidered seam at your waist where your bodice meets your skirt.
“Of course,” Mr. Hill agrees. “Let’s get you out of that crinoline so I can send you two lovebirds on your way for a nice Butterbeer or two!”
As he babbles on about how it’s just like the last time the two of you came into his shop together, you meet Sebastian’s gaze and realize both of you are steadfastly refusing to correct the man. You know that you’re blushing, but seeing him blush just as fiercely is quite revealing.
After you pay Mr. Hill and make plans for Otto to deliver the dress to the castle once the storm lets up, you and Sebastian wordlessly trudge down to Sirona’s lively pub. There you manage to snag a small booth in one of the far corners – one that you’re well aware is a popular spot for snogging.
“So…” he says softly. “Lovebirds, are we now?”
“Don’t start,” you warn him. “You know how Augustus is, it’s usually just better to let him talk than spend all afternoon trying to correct him.”
“You didn’t even try,” he observes.
You counter, “Nor did you.”
Just then Sirona drops off your drinks and Sebastian forfeits his turn in your verbal duel by taking a pointedly long sip.
Then you forfeit your own turn when you get too distracted by the bit of Butterbeer foam on his upper lip to offer anything remotely witty.
“Well, regardless,” Sebastian eventually murmurs. “You did look beautiful in that dress.”
“Thank you,” you say. “And you were very handsome in your robes.”
“Proper fit, one might say,” he retorts.
The cheek, honestly.
“Sebastian,” you say quietly. “I need you to be honest with me about something.”
“Go on,” he says, taking another long sip while you consider your words.
Slowly, you ask him, “Since we met… have you ever once thought about us being more than just friends?”
“Have I ever once thought about it?” he repeats. “Of course I have. Countless times, probably”
“Then why haven’t you ever said anything?” you ask, staring deep into your mug to avoid having to meet his eyes.
You flinch slightly when Sebastian reaches across the table and plucks one of your hands off your mug. He laces his fingers with yours and pulls you closer, and the noise in the room seems to dwindle to a whisper as he meets your gaze.
“Between you and me, you’ve always been the brave one,” he tells you earnestly. “And I’d rather have only friendship with you than ask for too much and lose you entirely. Believe it or not I have learned when to stop.”
You smile ruefully at the reminder of just how much Sebastian has grown since you chose to give him the chance to do so.
He drags his thumb across yours. “So, if you want to be brave, I’ll be brave with you.”
You exhale shakily before you finally confess, “Of course I want to, Seb.”
You’re nearly in his lap at this point, and there’s absolutely no way the conversation you’re having could be interpreted as merely friendly by any onlookers. So, you think, why not be brave?
When you kiss him, the first thing you notice is that he tastes like the caramelly richness of the Butterbeer you’d both been drinking. But then it melts away and it’s just him, just Sebastian. He’s wonderfully warm, and underneath the initial sweetness he tastes a bit like the fluxweed stem he mindlessly chews on while he studies to help him focus.
His nose slots against yours as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, and you wonder what he’s noticing about you.
But a moment later, the feeling of his warm hand on your thigh immediately makes you lose your train of thought.
“Seb,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to press your forehead to his.
“Let’s go back to the castle,” he blurts out eagerly.
You fondly roll your eyes and let him steal another kiss before you push him back with a gentle hand on his chest.
“I believe you just said something about having learned when to stop?” you tease him.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he says cheekily.
“You’re just going to have to be patient, Mister Sallow,” you insist as you reach for your drink. “I thought I saw quite the gentleman in you today. I don’t suppose you could act like him until after the ball?”
“I could,” he offers. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“Tell you what,” you bargain, leaning in close. “If you can be a perfect gentleman from now until the ball, I’ll let you help me put my dress on, and then afterward I’ll let you take it off.” 
You hear him loudly swallow and take a deep breath before he holds out a hand for you to shake and breathes, “You have yourself a deal, love.”
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flowerui · 1 month
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♫ we both like apple cider, pgw
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fluff & light angst, 4.1k words ୨୧ first fic on this blog! feedback is appreciated!! ^_^ i've had awful writer's block for MONTHS so i hope i havent gotten too rusty,,,
wherein dancing is your favorite way to destress, until a certain gunwook park goes and spoils it all.
꒰ requested. gender neutral reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used), reader is a year older than gw, dancer reader, bff hanbin, one-sided enemies to friends to lovers, college au, misunderstandings, set in the us, does this count as forced proximity? light angst, fluff (it gets so cheesy idk what happened to me), drinking/underage drinking ꒱
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Dancing had always been your favorite way to unwind. After a long day of classes, practice is like a treat; the mental toll of having to listen to your professors drone on all day, and procrastinating assignments until the night they’re due is easily unraveled by dancing until you can’t feel your limbs—it’s unmatched.
That’s why, despite it being Wednesday (the second worst day of the week), you walk out of your last class with a skip in your step, like nothing could ruin your day.
Nothing except a man named Hanbin, that is.
After changing, you enter the practice room, ready to forget your worries. But before you can begin, you see a paper stuck on the wall beside the door—Hanbin must’ve finally put together the choreo for the solo and duet performances for an upcoming recital for some event on campus (truthfully, you can't be bothered to remember all the details, that's Hanbin's job), and decided on who’d best fit the roles. You’re a little late, so it’s just you who curiously shuffles over to take a look.
Seeing your name under Duet makes you smile until you read your counterpart's name. Gunwook Park.
You find a spot to sink to the floor in the back of the room. Suddenly, you’ve changed your perspective on dancing; it’s the worst thing to happen to you. You regret ever discovering this useless passion of yours, who even needs passions in this economy?!
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Hanbin would tell you otherwise, but you believe that you have pretty good ideas.
You’d tried to take an easier route and complain to Hanbin that you absolutely could not work with Gunwook for a duet. But he was adamant about not making any alterations at this point, at least not just because you don’t like Gunwook—what a traitor, what happened to friendship?
Since complaining about your unfair working conditions did fuck all, you came up with a wonderful solution. You get paired with the number one person on your shit list? Just don’t show up to rehearsals. Boom, problem solved. Though it’s easier said than done; you’re a creature of habit, and the disappointment of remembering you can’t destress with dance is depressing.
And, of course, avoiding both Hanbin and Gunwook is a chore.
It’s on day four that you consider, maybe Hanbin is right sometimes. You were only successful in avoiding everything except schoolwork because college kicks everyone’s ass, and finding free time starts to feel like finding a needle in a haystack. But, maybe ditching practice when you live with the leader of your dance team wasn’t your best idea. On Sundays, both you and Hanbin usually end up being home at the same time.
And like an idiot, you forget this detail and trudge out of your room at two in the afternoon (no, you certainly did not just wake up, thank you very much) to find something acceptable to eat.
As you’re rummaging through the pantry, you hear your name called in that tone. The one where Hanbin’s voice sounds mildly shrill and a bit patronizing, the one that lets you know you’re in trouble.
Yeah, not your brightest idea—it might take over the number two spot of your top three worst ideas, followed by trying to gaslight a random group of people into believing that Play-doh is edible after you’d had a drink too many at your first college party at number one. (To be fair, you did not expect a twenty-something-year-old man to have Play-Doh on hand and tell you to prove it. Yes, you tried. You vomited on the guy’s shoes.)
Rigidly, you slowly turn to face Hanbin, who has a terse smile on his face.
“...Yes?”
“I thought maybe you hadn���t shown up to rehearsals because you weren’t feeling well, but yesterday, Gunwook told me every time he spotted you on campus, you naruto-ran away.”
“Uh,” you fake cough into your elbow, “Must’ve been someone that looks like me? ‘Cause I have been feeling kind of under the we—”
You shriek and make a run for it when Hanbin stomps over with that creepy hamster puppet you’d given him as a gag gift last year in hand. Eventually, you get cornered and get a creepy hamster puppet thrown in your face. “You can’t just ditch practice because you have some petty one-sided rivalry—or whatever it is—with Gunwook. You’re risking embarrassing the whole team! What are you planning to do, just not learn the choreography?”
“You know it's not a rivalry...” You grumble.
“You’re being childish,” Hanbin sighs, “I’ve already told you that whatever your deal is with Gunwook is some misunderstanding, he’s a sweet guy.”
“Yeah, whatever.” You huff, probably not helping the childish accusation. You’re tired of hearing that about what a good guy Gunwook appears to be because you know what you heard.
Without another word, you stomp off to your room.
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If you had any hopes of getting out of going to rehearsal again, they’re promptly stomped on by Hanbin waiting outside of your class when you trudge out.
“Really?” You groan, and walk over to your supposed friend, “You don’t need to escort me.”
“I think I do,” Hanbin crosses his arms, fixing you with a look, like he knows you better than yourself… okay, he does ninety percent of the time, but that doesn’t mean he can act like it. “I’m pretty sure I saw you ready to head in the wrong direction before you saw me.” He says before grabbing your arm and pulling you down the hall.
“I don’t even get what your deal is with Gunwook,” Hanbin finally says when you’re about halfway to the studio, “I know you said you heard him say something… unsavory, but that just doesn’t sound like him at all. I think you should talk to him, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”
“I know what I heard, Bin…”
“I’m not saying you didn’t hear what you heard, but maybe there’s some missing context.”
You try to consider Hanbin’s words, even as you absentmindedly head into the changing rooms, and reluctantly shuffle into the practice room afterward, you truly do. 
But all the rational thinking and breathing techniques in the world cannot quell your ire when you see Gunwook. Calmly walking over and refraining from saying anything uncouth is a true test of mental strength—one that you are quite afraid of failing.
“Hey—” Gunwook rises from his spot in the corner of the practice room to greet you.
“Let’s get started.” You blurt out, aware of how cold and biting your dismissal comes off. To be fair, Hanbin didn’t tell you to be particularly nice, he just insisted you show up.
“Oh, right,” Gunwook’s expression wilts, but he clears his throat and plasters a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure Hanbin already let you know he wouldn’t be here to help us out today—he’s helping Natty with her solo. I’ve got the choreo down, so I should be able to guide you if needed.”
“I practiced at home.”  You did. A little bit, it wasn’t easy with the limited space in your cramped—ahem, homey apartment. But practicing a duet by yourself, then giving up after stubbing your toe on every fucking piece of furniture in your home, and practicing it with your duet partner are two different things.
“Oh, that’s good… um, I’ll start the music.”
Your name is followed by an exasperated sigh. With reluctance—because your phone’s home screen is just that interesting—you glance up from your phone, to see Gunwook eyeing you through the mirror. 
“Could we try to get through the routine? Maybe without you scratching me this time?” Gunwook gnaws at his bottom lip, sweat beading at his temple. He’s actually been hard at work, practicing while you sat in the corner of the room—essentially sentenced to a time-out after accidentally scratching Gunwook every time you tried to run through the routine with him. Accidentally.
You can’t help the frown that sets on your lips. Only to you, it seems, Gunwook Park is an enigma. When he first joined the team, he seemed nice, and he wasn’t much younger than you, you just never got the chance to properly talk to him. However, now you never want to speak to him, the fact that you have to work so closely with him is nauseating.
Tampering down all the ugly word vomit bubbling in your throat, you mentally repeat Hanbin’s words from yesterday to yourself, ‘You’re risking embarrassing the whole team’. Not only do you find most of your teammates to be more than bearable, but you also you can’t bomb a performance because you were too petty to practice the choreography, so, even though the thought of being so close to Gunwook—having to touch him makes you full body cringe, you suck it up.
“Sure.”
Begrudgingly, you get into position and wait for your cue. As the music starts up for what feels like the billionth time that evening, you miss the many nervous glances cast your way.
Succeedingly, you manage to not cause any more bodily harm, even when you have no choice but to get close enough to Gunwook to the point you cannot look anywhere but into his eyes. The urge to flee strikes, as unease among other odd emotions you will not address churn in your gut, but you deal with it (read: ignore it).
You manage to run through the routine once, then again, and again, and again, until your limbs feel like gelatin and you have no option but to sprawl out on the floor. It occurs to you how much you missed this feeling, you can barely believe you let your pettiness get in the way of it.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
Turning your head to the side, there’s Gunwook, also sprawled out beside you. Huh, you don’t even have the negative energy within you to loathe his presence in the moment.
“You just did. But you can ask one more thing.”
A goofy grin splits Gunwook’s lips before he turns his head back to face the ceiling, expression shifting a little more seriously. “Did I… was there something that I like did? Or said to upset you?”
Oh. Right. So, you haven’t forgotten your distaste for Gunwook. You feel your good mood sour, as you scoff, and force yourself to finally sit up—your limbs are very much protesting, screaming at you, matter of fact, but fuck them. And fuck Gunwook Park. “Seriously?”
You glance over your shoulder, Gunwook, who sat up shortly after you, only blinks at you curiously, as though he hasn’t got a clue.
“You really don’t know? Do you just talk shit about everyone and that’s why you can’t seem to remember me?”
“What…?” Gunwook’s brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”
“I heard you." You push yourself up off the ground, fixing Gunwook with an exasperated look, "After our performance at orientation in August, you had a lot to say about my skill, and how ridiculous I looked.”
“I don't…?” You watch as the confusion and then the recognition passes over Gunwook’s features, “No, I—shit,” he hangs his head with a groan, which doesn’t serve to dissipate any of your arising confusion. “That wasn’t about you.”
“I heard you say my name, don’t bullshit me.”
“I—okay, I definitely said your name, but it seriously wasn’t about you. There was this, um, character in a film my roommate watched for some project; they were supposed to be a dancer, but they were godawful. I was talking about the character, and I didn’t even think about how they had the same name as you, or about how loudly I was talking about that.”
“Oh,” you say, rather intelligently. You consider the thought that he could be lying, but he looks at you with such earnestness, remorse practically pooling in his eyes, you can’t even entertain the thought for more than a moment.
“Yeah, oh. I’m sorry you thought I was talking about you…”
“No, I’m sorry,” you quietly sit back down, anger gone as quick as it arose, and flop back on the floor with a sigh. Having your entire view of Gunwook Park debunked in a mere minute was not on tonight’s bingo card.
“I should’ve—Hanbin kept telling me it was probably a misunderstanding and to confront you, but I just stewed in my misguided hatred. God, Hanbin’s going to be insufferable once I tell him he was right all along.”
Gunwook huffs a laugh, “I’m glad we sorted this out, finally. Um, I guess we should wrap up for tonight since it’s getting late. Can I walk you home?”
“Don’t you live on campus? You don’t have to walk me home if you just have to walk back here…”
“It’s fine!” Gunwook smiles, oddly enthusiastic. Weird, personally, you dread having to walk home after practice. “I want to, and I guess now we can get to know each other? Now that you don’t hate me.”
“Yeah… okay, I’ll grab my stuff.” You sit back up again, as much as you’d like to become one with the floor.
“Okay, cool.”
“Cool.” you can’t help but smile, seeing the wide grin on Gunwook’s face. You’re going to choose to believe the warmth in your cheeks is because you’re still cooling off from rehearsing.
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The idea of rehearsing is a lot more palatable now that you don’t despise your duet partner. The actual rehearsals aren’t too bad either… they’re actually kind of enjoyable.
Hanbin was, in fact, very insufferable when you spilled everything that’d happened that day to him. He’d been waiting up for you, sitting on the armchair in your living room, and nearly gave you a heart attack when he flicked on the lamp beside him; like he was your mother and he’d caught you sneaking back in the house.
“Hey, how was class?” Gunwook has taken to waiting for you outside your classes on rehearsal days, you even say hi to each other when you see the other on campus, and maybe talk if you’re not busy.
“Don’t get me started…” you groan, “I have no idea what my professor was on about today, but I thought his jaw was going to unhinge before he finally stopped talking.”
Gunwook chuckles, and grabs your bag from you, cradling it to his chest. “I thought I told you I could carry my bag myself?”
“And I told you that you could try to take it back.” 
You did try, and you decided you do not like freakishly strong guys. “Whatever… what about you? How was your class?”
“Didn’t go today…” Gunwook trails off, glancing down at your linked arms. A habit after losing Hanbin in crowds one too many times. It feels nice with Gunwook, though. “Um, my roommate—” he clears his throat before he continues looking forward, revealing his red ears. Oh, that’s cute.
“He kept me up late ‘cause he needed help with his film project that he’s been procrastinating. I ended up waking up at like one-thirty…”
“Really? So, you just came straight here after waking up?” You tsk, choosing to look away from his pouted lips for your sake. “Did you even eat? Let’s stop by this café a few blocks away before we rehearse. It opened last month, Hanbin and I were supposed to check it out, but I think he forgot.”
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You’re not blind, of course, Gunwook is, well, objectively attractive (subjectively as well, perchance). With much coaxing, you might’ve been able to admit it a week ago when you hated him. But, his attractiveness is far too illuminated when you’re a mere inches from his face; faced with his distractingly pretty brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. Oh God, he’s cute. He’s so fucking cute, and you are so fucking screwed.
Before you can say something so embarrassing you’d have to migrate to another country and assume another identity, you take the initiative to part from Gunwook, carefully backing away, and clearing your throat, “Should we take a break?”
Except that doesn’t even help, because when you sink to the floor to watch YouTube, Gunwook is beside you, smushed at your side to watch whatever you’re watching. You can’t even remember what video you tapped on, but apparently, you’re seven minutes into a video when Gunwook reaches over to pause it.
“Hey, um, one of my friends—his name’s Junhyeon, his frat, Zeta Rho Xi is having a party this weekend. He kinda roped me into going, and I was just wondering if you were free…? I would, um, it’d be cool if you could stop by.”
Parties haven’t been your thing for a long time; you tried to party freshman year, since people seemed to go on about the college parties. You just couldn’t get super into it, plus only things like the Play-Doh incident came from parties… and that’s why you’re not sure why you say, “Yeah, no, I should be free. I’ll check it out.”
You aren't even free, you have an essay you’ve written approximately two sentences for that happens to be due Monday. But the smile on Gunwook’s face makes agreeing feel like the right choice.
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Immediately upon stepping inside, you remember why you hate parties. One, you lose Hanbin instantly. Two, trying to push through a bunch of sweaty, drunk people (who are surprisingly sturdy) is a pain in the ass. And three, it’s loud, you already feel like you need a drink. Or maybe three.
You manage to make it to a mostly empty kitchen, and at that point, you’ve lost any motivation to go search for Hanbin or even Gunwook. For the most part, you’ve given up caring about being ‘lame’, so, you’re perfectly content sitting in the kitchen on your phone at a party while sipping on possibly the worst quality beer you’ve tasted in your twenty years of life.
It’s maybe thirty minutes until you finally look up from your phone at the call of your name over the ear-damaging volume of music.
Hanbin stumbles into the kitchen, using Gunwook as support. You can make out your friend’s flushed cheeks, even in the dim lighting, you have no idea how he’s gotten drunk so fast. “There you are! I found Gunwookie, it looked like he was waitin’ around for you, ‘cause he was just in a corner lookin’ around… didn’t you guys exchange numbers?”
“I already told you I forgot to ask…” Gunwook mumbles.
“Oh,” Hanbin lets go of Gunwook to slide up beside you, “Hey, did you know that, um—” Gunwook rushes over to slap a hand over Hanbin’s mouth, are they both drunk? It’s more difficult to tell with Gunwook, his cheeks always look pink…
Hanbin removes Gunwook’s hand with a glare, “Don’t interrupt me,” he chides, as sternly as he can while drunk. “Anyway, ‘m so glad you two figured things out. I hope Gunwook tells you about his massive heart boner for you.”
Hanbin makes it probably ten times worse by continuing, “He’s—he’s had such a big crush on you since like, um, since like the millisecond he joined the team. But this whole time you thought he was mean to you, isn’t that silly?”
What isn’t silly is the look on Gunwook’s face, he looks positively mortified.
“...Okay, Bin, I think you’re ready to go home already,” you smile tersely, side-stepping the topic for now, maybe forever actually. “Gunwook, can you help me with him?” You ignore Hanbin’s slurred protests. It must take a moment for Gunwook to recoup before he’s at Hanbin’s other side, helping you pull the drunkard up.
You avoid looking in Gunwook’s direction, despite the fact you can feel him burning holes into the side of your head. Of course, there’s no avoiding the conversation—inevitably, you’re going to have to talk to Gunwook about what Hanbin said, but maybe you can get out of it tonight…?
It’s not that you’re particularly afraid… okay, well, you are, except it’s just unnecessary anxiety. Now you feel better about admitting to yourself that you’re interested in Gunwook. But what if Hanbin’s drunk rambling was just drunk rambling, and it was all nonsense? Well, Gunwook probably wouldn’t seem so nervous if that were the case, but maybe he’s nervous because he just doesn’t want you to be under the impression that he—
“Oh, hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for Hanbin…”
“Oh, Hao, hey.” you mentally thank Hao for unknowingly rescuing you from spiraling into your annoyingly irrational train of thought.
“Do you want me to take him off your hands? We were planning to ditch before he disappeared.”
Okay, time to put on your big person pants and be an adult. “Yeah, thanks.” Handing Hanbin off is pretty easy, the man completely unbothered that he’s thrown two of his protégés for a loop (he’ll probably feel a lot worse about it tomorrow, especially when he’s hungover). What’s less easy, is being left with Gunwook.
“Well, since Hanbin aired everything out…”
“Right, yeah. We should talk, maybe outside?”
Gunwook nods, leading the way to the back door, you follow closely behind him. As not to lose him in the clusters of people, and maybe just because you want to, you grab onto his arm.
Outside, your eardrums thank you for finally getting out of there, though your nervous heart is another story, rattling against your ribcage incessantly. Warily, you avoid looking at Gunwook, distancing yourself a good few feet away from him, “So…”
“I like you,” Gunwook blurts as if he won’t get another chance to say so, “like a lot. I initially joined the team ‘cause of you actually, I hadn’t even danced since middle school. But you were so—watching you on stage at orientation felt so… enchanting.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks at Gunwook’s flattery, and he only continues, “I thought you were perfect, so obviously I immediately signed up for the dance team, even though I wasn’t even sure if I was any good at it anymore, just so I could have an excuse to see you. Only for me to never gain the courage to even talk to you…” Staring at the wooden planks of the porch beneath your feet, you see Gunwook’s beaten-up Converse come into view, urging you to look up again.
“Gunwook, I—”
“It’s okay if you don’t feel anything like that for me, I just can’t let the what-ifs get in the way of me trying anymore.” Oh, how could you not feel something for him? Surely anyone could fall for him just by staring into his pretty brown eyes.
The weird feeling in your gut, which must be those butterflies people talk about, amplifies, you think you’d have to be a fool if you didn’t feel something for Gunwook Park. “I don’t… not feel something,” you hastily avert your gaze, “I guess I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I am interested in you. I, um, would be open to exploring that.”
“I understand—wait, you… really?”
You look up in time to see the overjoyed grin split Gunwook’s lips. It’s infectious, you can’t help but mirror his smile, laugh tumbling past your lips, “Yes, you dork. You better sweep me off my feet.”  You playfully shove at his shoulder.
“I will,” Gunwook grabs your wrist before you drop your arm, thumbing at the inside of it, “are you free tomorrow?”
“I…” You aren’t free, remember that pesky essay of yours? “Yeah, I am.” Oh, well, you suppose it can wait; likely until tomorrow night, when you finally open your laptop at eleven-thirty at night, when it happens to be due at midnight. You happen to work great under pressure!
“Perfect, can I pick you up at your place at two?”
“Sure, are you gonna remember to ask for my number this time, though?” You tease, making a ‘give me’ motion with your free hand.
Gunwook’s cheeks somehow get pinker, as he finally lets go of your wrist and retrieves his phone from his pocket, handing it over with the new contact screen open. Quickly, you type in your number and then your name, cheekily adding a heart beside it.
“Can I walk you home? Or, uh, if you wanted to go back to the party, that’s fine too…”
“Nah,” you’d rather do just about anything else than go back into that mess, you’ve had enough parties for the rest of your college life, “I’m pretty tired, and I have a super important date with a great guy tomorrow.”
With a coy smile to match Gunwook’s shy one, you cozy up to his side and link arms with him, “Let’s go?”
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You’d still consider dancing to be a great way to unwind—still one of your favorites, it's just been demoted to second place.
Nothing ebbs away your stress like Gunwook popping into your room with your favorite food after you’ve been staring at your laptop screen for hours as if you were hoping your assignments would finish themselves. Or his hugs—always so warm, it’s like hugging an oversized stuffed bear. Or just… him.
Unrivaled after several years, dancing has finally met its match: Gunwook Park.
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som1ig · 5 months
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"i am screwed."
picking up the pace, your gaze wandered around the various store fronts, none of them being able to catch your eyes.
"i am absolutely, completely and utterly screwed," you mumbled under your breath.
today was february 18th which meant that it was your boyfriend’s birthday and you didn’t have a single gift for vernon. it wasn’t like you procrastinated or didn’t care but finding a birthday present for him was impossible. to avoid the struggle from last year, you even tried to get a head start -asking him what he wanted on the february 19th of said last year- but you still didn’t have a single idea. vernon just didn’t want anything.
"a great movie night with you is enough. materialistic stuff aren’t as precious as forcing you to stay in front of a screen for two hours," he had told you.
yes, but a movie won’t help me to find you a gift to celebrate your birthday, moron, you wanted to scream. yes you knew vernon didn’t have a lot of needs and, if he ever had one, he always brought it even before you knew it actually was something he wanted to buy. and yes, you knew that fulfilling vernon’s unconditional love for movie dates was absolutely amazing to him considering your difficulty to stay focused for so long, but you still wanted to find a present. and now, you had to find a gift that he’d actually like and use.
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at first, you thought about a lego set but cried at the price of the globe. then, you wondered if you could get him a sweater but realised none of them fitted vernon’s style. finally, you walked by an amazing cooking set before quickly reminding yourself that none of you knew how to properly cook without burning down anything.
you even called his parents and sister to find an idea but it seemed like his parents already resigned themselves to send flowers and his sister was in a similar state as you.
sitting on a bench to take a break from your three hours search, you cracked you neck when, at the same time, you felt your phone ringing in your hand. as vernon’s name appeared on the screen, a picture of the two of you in the background, you started to wish the ground shallowed you.
"hey ’sol, you answered overly enthusiastic in order to hide the panic in your mind, how are you?"
"great and you babe? i was at the mall and wondered if you wanted cookies for tonight?"
"you are at the what-" you almost choked.
looking around you, you sighed after insuring that your boyfriend wasn’t nearby.
"i mean- yeah of course. but this time try to check that they aren’t mixed with peanut," you teased.
"ah ah, very funny, y/n, the young man mumbled, ‘kay, then see you later, love you."
"love you," you repeated softly before hanging up.
with a deep sigh, you looked around and went into the nearest store.
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going out of the store, more disappointed than when you came in -which you didn’t think was possible considering how desperate you already were- when your eyes widened at the sight in front of you : your boyfriend, a pack of cookies and your favourite bottle of apple juice in the hands.
"y/n?" vernon asked, as astonished as you.
"hey ’sol, fancy seeing you here," you started.
"well, i did tell you on the phone that i was at the mall, your boyfriend observed, but you, i thought you were at your apartment?"
"yes, yes i was, you lied, but i wanted to check out the new collection of…"
"ralph lauren’s men section?" vernon completed, his eyes on the shop window.
"right," you nodded weakly.
"when you could just have checked it online?" he insisted, an eyebrow arched.
"okay i surrender, you sigh before explaining, i wanted to find you a present and i couldn’t. and yes i know you didn’t want a present but i just couldn’t imagine myself celebrating your birthday and not giving you at least one present! a physical one at least! giving present is my love language and it’s so hard for me to not give you one."
embracing you softly, you took five seconds to register that vernon was hugging you when he usually was so shy and discreet in more "public" setting.
"thank you for being so considerate to me and for being such an amazing girlfriend."
"i’m just being normal," you answered, blushing at his compliment.
"actually, i think there is something i’d like for my birthday," vernon added.
"really? you asked sceptically, something else than a movie night?"
"it might be cheesy but… how do matching sweaters that we could embroider sound?"
surprise spread all over your face, a huge smile appeared as you fully registered the idea and, after grabbing vernon’s hand you announced :
"let’s get us sweaters then. and throw away the cookies, you took the one with peanut butter again."
looking at your boyfriend with a fond smile as he realised his mistake, you thought that finding a birthday present wasn’t so hard after all.
a/n : first of all, i know this isn’t vernon’s birthday but i saw a reel of him saying the members didn’t give him any present bcs he didn’t want anything and hoshi saying he received expensive pants bcs his members were rich so i wanted to write something abt it. second point, i’m still experiencing a vernon brainrot
taglist : @junhour @lixiel0ver @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @islandheaven (send me a message or ask here in the comments if you want to be added)
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@/som1ig 2023 | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise
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jean0farc · 5 months
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#!! - 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑴𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ; ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ
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CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE
𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut.
𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Griffith X You (fem! reader)
𝖈𝖜: RAPE/NON-CON.
𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊:
Finally finished the fic after months of procrastinating.
This fic is not proofread or beta read.
Don’t try this at home, kids!
….And some rape down there. I don’t condone any of this irl (no shit). It is to note that it is part of the story’s progression and I only intend to explore such dark elements like the series always intended to do so in canon.
The “don’t like, don’t read” rule applies here. Kindly heed the tags one more time before proceeding.
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“Griffith…I…” you paused as you caught your breath. You were failing to fake self-confidence at this point in time, your legs shaking as you could only watch yourself give into the fear that made its way through your head and heart.
“I…wasn’t expecting your presence here…I….”
Griffith’s eyes narrowed in response, letting out a low hum. He was getting closer this time, giving you less time to react and run for your life.
You took a step backward, pressing your hands against the dresser for some support. You knew you’d hit a dead end the way you clumsily hit the wall, groaning softly in response. You waited and waited for a sign to attempt running past Griffith and escape the palace with all your will’s might. You still had your bathrobe on, which made you partially vulnerable to him, but you didn’t care. You just had to run away from the man who has been invading your personal space.
“Worry not, princess. I came not to disturb your slumber. What I ask for is one simple thing that I believe you and I could share. If I’ll allow you to do so, that is.” Griffith said.
“Who are you to tell me what to do with my Kingdom? This is my lair, as bestowed by my father before me. The fact that you’re trespassing does not make you worthy of seeing me at my-“
Your words were cut off by Griffith, his cunning tone making itself clear in the dead silence. “And who told you that this kingdom was entirely yours? Remember, your induction to queenhood was only taken into consideration because of your father’s sudden death. Besides, it’s not as if you have any experience in leadership whatsoever.”
“Are you underestimating me?” you asked, slightly annoyed with his attitude.
“Why, of course not.” Griffith said as he took brisk steps forward, making it almost impossible for you to escape. “Want to know a secret?”
You nodded in response.
“I killed your father.” Griffith said, shamelessly. He walked three steps forward, caging the both of you within a small distance.
“You son of a bitch! Why….why would you do such a thing?! My father has been-“ you were interrupted once again.
“I had to do it. There could only be one way to test as to whether Midland is fit to be led by a Queen all on her own…..and turns out, the ‘Queen’ in question has no experience.” Griffith said.
“How dare you insult me in my own palace!” you exclaimed. “I’m leaving!”
“Not when you’re barely dressed like that.” Griffith smiled deviously. “Now…..come here….”
“What….what are you implying?” you asked, attempting to charge your way to the exit of your bedroom. “N-never mind….I’m fucking leaving.” As you charged your way to the exit, you felt two hands wrap around your waist from behind. No, it was too late. Griffith caught you. Pulling you backward, he lifted you to your own bed and started stripping down until he wore nothing but his Behelit.
You attempted to escape once more, only for Griffith to pin you down to the bed and press his lips into yours. You fought against the sheets and turned your head to break the kiss, but your attempts were rendered futile as it only prompted Griffith to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Griffith kissed you harshly, and it frankly felt like kissing an untamed beast cornering its prey. You never knew Griffith was ...quite an expert at this, his mouth slightly nibbling at your lower lip everytime he retreated.
After finally pulling away from you, Griffith latched his face onto your neck, positioning himself next to your right ear. “Give yourself to me, Princess. After all, your Kingdom….will soon be mine.”
“No…NO!!!!” you exclaimed.
“A little stubborn, are we?” Griffith asked, tilting his head. “Well, it’s not like you’ve stood a chance. We’re taking off this one, okay?”
You kept tugging at your bathrobe’s ‘belt’ to keep it away from the filthy man on top of you. “Griffith, I don’t want this, please…..”
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Too stubborn.” Griffith said, his touch growing angrier as he grabbed your bathrobe by the waist, curling his hand to a fist. Using his other hand, he slid a sleeve of the wardrobe off your shoulder, revealing your bare shoulder and right breast. Griffith dug right in, his lips kissing your hardened nipple as he engulfed his mouth to suckle it whole. While doing the do, he used his right hand to slide off the other sleeve of your bathrobe, exposing your other breast and stripping you down to your naked form. Griffith pulled away from your nipple, impressed with how he rendered the Queen of Midland helpless under his touch.
“Mmmm……what a pretty little thing you make, just for my kingdom.” Griffith let out a satisfactory hum. “This will be a rather fun time showing them who’s deserving of the throne.” Next thing you knew, Griffith was about to go down on you, positioning himself around the area of your waist.
“Don’t resist, Princess. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs wide open.” You hesitantly obeyed, up until Griffith grabbed you by your inner thighs, spreading them wider and raising them. Finally, he slipped your legs up his shoulders. It felt dirty having someone’s face right up your pussy, especially since this was your first time. Your mind wandered as you closed your eyes, hoping everything you just witnessed was just a dream. But no, it wasn’t. You fought against Griffith’s clutches, tugging at his hair and pushing him away.
But this just prompted him to dig right in, lapping at your fluids as he used his hands to part your lips for better tasting. You muffled a moan from the pleasurable feeling, covering your mouth with one hand. Griffith’s tongue worked you in fast, yet practiced motions—the tongue moved swiftly and curled just the right amount to send you shivers down your spine, earning muffled whimpers from you.
Granted, vibrators didn’t exist in the Medieval Era of Midland, so you might as well indulge in that feeling of someone’s tongue right up your pussy.
Griffith withdrew from eating you out for a while, his breathing and humming loud enough to send you goosebumps. “Mmmm…. You’re already this wet from a little kissing and heavy sucking. I wonder how it would be like to have you sing while having myself fully inside you, to have you clench around me while I slowly take what’s rightfully mine.”
“L-let go!!!!” you screamed. “I don’t want this!!!”
“You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, Princess. After all, you’re something…..” Griffith said, strict and unwavering. “Magnetic.”
Griffith moaned as he dug right back in, his tongue hovered over your clit. He started tracing small circles in a slow pacing, which left you impatient and begging for more. You tugged into his hair trying to fight him off, but as previously stated, you were left with no defenses against his strong grip.
“Griffith!!! Oh God…..!!!! I’m gonna…..!!!”
The feeling gave you that guilt, guilt for enjoying this man’s advances on you, and guilt because you just couldn’t believe your sense of authority was being challenged by a man of common birth.
But Griffith refused to stop. No, he didn’t stop suckling at your clit gently to give you a break. Griffith was merciless in the bedroom, leaving you with no choice but to accept the fate you’ve been accustomed to.
“Agh! Griffith!!! Stop….!!!!” you moaned out loud.
Griffith’s tongue kept going, and it wasn’t long before he inserted two digits inside your entrance without warning. He just didn’t care. His tongue slowly picked up the pace, speeding up and finally making you reach that sweet, sweet climax you’ve been waiting for. You fucked back subconsciously against his tongue, riding out your orgasm until it was ready to subside. After coming down from your high, you suddenly realized Griffith was looking down at you icily with his bright blue eyes, his body towering over yours despite lying down in bed.
You were screwed. What was about to happen next?
“Hmmm…..perhaps you are ready to take all of me. I’m going to fuck you so good you’d actually forget being the Queen of Midland.”
“No…..NO!!!!” you exclaimed, attempting to get up and reach for the door. You were stopped dead by Griffith once again, leading him to push you back to the mattress and grabbing you by the legs. Spreading them wider, Griffith let go of your legs, only to stroke his length before initially inserting it in your entrance. Slight precum formed through a pearl-like shape at the slit of his cock, adding lubrication to the process of entering you. Before you knew it, Griffith made efforts to adjust and bury his length within your vagina, though you ached in retaliation.
“Aghhh!!! It hurts! It burns! Let go!”
“Hush, princess. I know what I’m doing.” Griffith said as he spread your legs open for a better view. He adjusted himself by taking slow yet sure steps in burying his length into you, filling you to the brim. You were at this point begging to be freed from his grasp, though your fainting strength was no match for him.
Placing his hands on your wrists, Griffith pinned you down and started thrusting his hips in a slow, yet ambitious pace. You bit your lip to hold back your moans, but it was all for naught. You let out a small “uh” while he rocked in and out, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air as he leaned closer to your ear to speak.
“You don’t stand a chance against ruling Midland.” Griffith muttered at an intimate distance from you.
“What…..Huh…..?” you whimpered, your breasts being grabbed as it bounced from Griffith’s thrusts. “What….do you me-ngggh!” you grunted, trying to resist him by trying to get up. “I owe you nothing! Just please, let me rule my Kingdom in peace! I’ll do anything…..anything….but this…..!!!”
“Surrender your pride, little one.” Griffith said as he caught his breath. “I want you to dream of this.”
As a means of defending yourself, you attempted to grab Griffith by the hair to pull and tug on it roughly. However, your efforts to distract Griffith failed. You had to take responsibility for what had to happen next, and it was all because Griffith wanted a taste of your kingdom.
“I have every right to follow my dream, princess. And I want you and your kingdom surrendered to me. That is the pinnacle of achieving my dream.”
“You’ll…..you’ll never…..have my kingdom…..” you fought your way to speak in the midst of denying the pleasure Griffith gave you.
“You’ll take whatever I deem right to give you, princess. After all, your kingdom and this body will be mine.” Griffith said.
You screamed as loud as you could that the servants and every guest would hear you. The walls were soundproof, but you didn’t have a choice.
“Please!!!! I don’t want this! Please get off!!!”
“You do know screaming out for servants to assist you won’t do your kingdom justice, right? Mmmmm…..”
Right on the dot, Griffith stopped thrusting, pulled out, and aggressively flipped your body over that you were facing the bed. With one fell swoop, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pinned your head to the pillow to muffle every moan and protest you had up your sleeve. Without warning, he repositioned himself right up your entrance, taking you from behind.
“This is a far better idea to keep your mouth shut and do as I say.” Griffith commanded.
“Mmmmmhhhh…….mmmmhhhhh!!!!”
The sounds of lewd clapping resumed, Griffith’s cock milking every last bit of your pussy’s juices with fervor. There was no turning back now, and he was truly getting at it, without any form of warning or informing you of any discomfort felt. It was like Griffith only cared for his own pleasure and never left crumbs of remorse for your wellbeing. This left you scarred—physically, emotionally, and most significantly, spiritually.
“Mmmmmm……I’m getting quite close.” Griffith smirked as he leaned forward. “What are you going to do about it, princess? Squirm? Run away?”
Your eyes widened at his remark, your body telling you to escape as he was nearing his release. You certainly did not want to carry his child, nor want to do anything with the monster who pounded on you animalistically.
“Noooooo!!!!!!” your voice protested while being muffled by the pillows where your head rested.
“As I said, you’ll take whatever’s been given to you. Now….”
It wasn’t long before your body betrayed you. You felt your climax approaching despite being against the thought of Griffith fucking you. Subconsciously, you fucked back, trying to get Griffith’s cock deep in you before you could feel his fluids leaking straight from your soaked cunt.
Three.
Two.
One.
Your moans and grunts filled the pillow, adding to its warmth while Griffith bit down your neck out of extreme pleasure. His thrusts sped up as he began to feel ropes of cum shooting itself inside you before pulling out. And the feeling was mutually GOOD. You let out a groan as your muscles relaxed, Griffith moaning as his cum began to leak out from your newly filled cunt. You were soaking wet and drenched in sweat as Griffith stayed inside you for long.
You were now marked as his. You didn’t know what to do at this point as you were deflowered after your coronation day.
“Sleep well, princess. Provided you are to raise a child from our time together, just let me know. We can build a kingdom where you could rule by my side.”
You couldn’t respond, which prompted Griffith to flip your body back to lying on your back. It was truly a tiresome night, filled with intensity and passion as Griffith stole everything from you.
You just never stood a chance.
Your eyes suddenly admitted defeat, staring up at Griffith as he looked down at you with a look of an angel. He was charming, so to speak, but heavily dedicated to what he promised to achieve.
And he achieved it.
He achieved his dream.
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gigglingtiggerv2 · 5 months
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Chapter Five: Checkmate!
Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character (Neurodivergent)
Warnings / Tags: Jealousy / Teasing / Humour / Mild smut / Slow burn / detachable penises / Betrayal
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2.5k
Summary: In which Loki realizes he has more serious problems than a simple case of blue balls.
Full Chapter List
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Once she felt she’d tortured him enough, and before lockjaw became a serious concern, Lex levered herself and her precious companion from the bath and wrapped them both in the warmest, fluffiest towels she could find.
The water had long since turned cold, something that never happened when Loki was around to maintain the perfect temperature, and she shivered as she hunted through the wardrobe, looking for something cozy to wear.  
Did she even own pyjamas anymore, she wondered?  She’d certainly had several pairs once, but they hadn’t been needed since she moved in with Loki and she’d noticed that he’d been surreptitiously removing all clothing of which he disapproved.  Which was pretty much everything she’d ever owned and would undoubtedly include her Avengers PJs.
Eventually, she gave up the search and settled on a fleecy undershirt that was probably meant to fit snugly beneath armor but, on Lex, came down to almost mid thigh.
Once she’d ensured that Richard was completely dry and thoroughly moisturized, she perched on the edge of the bed and gave him a careful inspection.  He was thankfully starting to lose the violent puce hue which had suffused his skin for the last hour or more but still flinched at even the lightest touch.  
She may have gotten carried away, she thought with a flash of guilt.  Yes, she’d intended to teach Loki a lesson for abandoning her, but she’d never intended to cause him distress, let alone actual harm.
As she leaned forward to open the underwear drawer where he’d spent the previous night, Lex felt Richard wilt a little, and another pang of guilt tightened her chest.
She closed her eyes and heaved out a sigh.  “Okay, fine, you can sleep with me tonight.  But only because I have no desire to find out what Loki would do to me if you caught a chill.”  She followed that train of thought for another couple of stops, “Plus I can’t even begin to imagine the mess you would make if you started sneezing all over the place.”
Richard gave a little hop of joy as she drew him under the covers, immediately wriggling beneath the undershirt and settling between her breasts.  At that point she could have sworn he gave a happy sigh of contentment.
Lex drew the covers to her chin and laid one hand on the slumbering penis.  Due to the logistic challenges caused by the difference in their heights, she and Loki had never slept like this, and she was forced to admit it was rather comforting.
Maybe they needed an even bigger bed!
Beneath her fingers, she felt the steady, reassuring throb of his pulse.  Loki’s heartbeat, she realized, and that unexpected reminder of his presence suddenly made him feel very close.  Not wanting to cause any further over stimulation, she let one hand rest gently against him and the familiar, soothing rhythm gradually slowed.   Somewhere, far, far away, Loki was drifting off to sleep.  Comforted by that thought, she felt her own eyelids grow heavy and close.
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The following morning, Loki stiffly assembled himself and donned the required ceremonial armor.  He had managed to snatch some sleep, once Lex had relented, but his whole body still felt peeled raw.
With a movement born of long ingrained habit, he swirled his cloak about his shoulders, managing to send a large pile of scrolls and parchments tumbling from his desk.  He had no desire to read the listing of his many failures and transgressions - which were the only reasons anyone ever put pen to paper, he kicked them into a corner and mentally filed them under ‘future Loki’s problems.’
That was one of Lex’s sayings, he realized, regularly employed whenever she wished to procrastinate.
As she surfaced in his mind, he felt a pang of lust and longing so strong it almost took his breath away.  What was he doing here?  Asgard be damned.  It and all its inhabitants could spontaneously combust for all he cared.  This farce needed to end and it needed to end now.
Barely giving his appearance a second glance, he threw open the doors to his chambers and stalked down the vaulted hallway.
At the far end, he could see Grenalda waiting for him, surrounded, as usual, by her coterie of twittering hand maids. At his approach, she took a step towards him, straightening to her full height and bestowing him with a chilly regal smile.
“And he finally chooses to grace us with his Princely presence!  Ladies we are honored, are we not?”  The flock of maidens surrounding her giggled in response.
Expression tightening, Loki pulled at his cuffs before fixing her with a glare.  “It is not yet the hour, I believe my arrival can still be considered punctual.”
“After your abrupt, some might say rude, departure last night, the entire palace has been taking bets on whether you would show up this morning at all.  A little reassurance would have been nice!”
She was in rare humor this morning, he thought, a sour grimace twisting his mouth.  They’d been friends once, but that camaraderie had long since withered into barely concealed contempt.  He pulled himself to his full height and returned her glare.  “I am here, am I not?”
“In body, at least.”  She paused and ran a critical eye over his appearance, “Though what you were doing with that body last night is probably best left unmentioned.”  She wrinkled her aristocratic nose.  “You look like whore’s washcloth.  Are we not making even the least effort these days?”
“I spent the night in my chambers, alone.” He tilted his head, to return her scathing look.  “Can you say the same?”
The faintest hint of a blush stained her cheekbones and Loki snorted.  Clearly not.  He imagined Grenalda had made her usual furtive trip to the stables to work out her annoyance at him.  She did like to avail herself of all the facilities whenever she was in Asgard.  Sadly, whichever stable lad she’d chosen, had not performed well enough to restore her mood.
Loki had a brief out of body flash as to what the rest of his life might look like if this marriage were to take place.  The simpering, fawning flunkies - the endless, droning meetings - the tedium of lavish state events and that ever present look of profound disappointment on his wife’s face.
Dismissing the Ladies in Waiting with an abrupt wave of his hand, he took hold of her arm and pulled her aside.
“We are agreed,” he snapped, “we put an end to this today?”
Grenalda shrugged out of his grip and glared at him.  “Yes,” she hissed, “it is agreed.  I find I have no desire anymore to settle for the disappointing, second son of Asgard.”
That should have stung, he thought, but at least they were true.  He found he no longer cared how he was seen by the great and the good of this world, and valued Grenalda’s opinion even less.  His life, his home, were elsewhere now.  A smile curved his lips as his awareness drifted to another realm, one where he could feel Lex stretched out beneath him, on her back.  
She was probably snoring.
Even that he found completely enchanting.
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After an interminable wait, the doors to the throne room swung slowly open and a discordant fanfare of trumpets announced their arrival.  Odin and Frigga sat on their thrones at the far end of the gleaming hall.  Neither cracked a smile as Loki and Grenalda performed their perfectly synchronized entrance, but Loki was sure he caught a gleam of mischief in his mother’s eyes.
When they reached the appointed spot, Loki bowed to his parents and then to his fiance. Grenalda released his arm long enough to return the gesture with a graceful, sweeping curtsey to all parties and then gripped his sleeve once again.
Her hand was shaking, he noted.  She was nervous.  Why?  They had performed this ridiculous pantomime many times, normally accompanied by shared sidelong glances and the occasional rolling of eyes when attention was directed elsewhere.  But this time her gaze remained firmly fixed on the figures on the dias in front of them.
Loki felt ice starting to trickle down his spine.  
Something was wrong.  
Something was very, very wrong.
“Who comes before us on this day?”  Odin’s voice echoed around the vaulted chamber, signaling the start of the ancient ceremony and for the first time, Loki fumbled for the familiar words.
Thankfully no one seemed to notice his hesitancy and apart from Grenalda needing to kick him in the ankle at one point to remind him to swear his oath of fealty, the brief scene passed without a incident.
Once the formalities were complete, Odin relaxed back against his throne and raised his chin.  “So, who’s turn is it this time?”
Loki blinked.  “I beg your pardon?”
“I am merely enquiring as to which of you two ne'er-do-wells, will be stepping forward to offer your excuses as to why this wedding should be delayed - yet again!”
Loki winced.  He had hoped they had another few centuries before Odin cottoned onto what they were doing.  Perhaps this was the cause of Grenalda’s nerves?
She shot him a sideways look, swallowed hard and then stepped forward.
“It is I, my King.”
“Let me guess, you wish to postpone the nuptials until a certain rare flower you desire for your bouquet is in bloom?”
“No, Sire.  We… we wish to end this betrothal.”
Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Loki stepped forward to offer his support.
“End it!” Odin roared.
“Yes my Liege.”  Spine straight, Grenalda moved towards the king.  “We have tested the patience of Asgard long enough.  Neither of us is getting any younger, so we feel it is high time we put this childish charade behind us…. and... and wed.”
There was a rushing sound in Loki’s ears and he shook his head in an attempt to dislodge it.  He had misheard… surely???  There was no conceivable way Grenalda had just said–
“Oh this is marvelous!” Frigga leapt to her feet and clapped her hands in joy.  “It has been too long since we last hosted a wedding.”  Descending from the dias, she paused briefly in front of Loki.  “Is there anything you wish to say, my son?”
Mouth open, Loki found himself unable to utter a single word.
“No?” She patted him on the shoulder.  “Perhaps we should give these lovebirds some privacy?”  She fixed Loki with a steady gaze.  “I’m sure something will come to you, once you have recovered from all the excitement.”
With that, she took Odin’s arm and swept him from the throne room, the honor guard, snapping to attention as they passed before peeling away, in formation, to follow them from the chamber.
As soon as they were alone, Loki whirled around and grabbed Grenalda by the shoulders.  “What did you do!” 
Maintaining a surprising amount of poise, despite the strength of his grip, she raised her chin.  “I ended our engagement, just as we agreed.”
“By setting a date for the wedding??!!”
“It seemed the swiftest way.”
“I thought you had no desire to be tied to, what did you call me, oh yes: the disappointing, second son of Asgard!”
She patted his face, “Oh Loki, you have been too long from Court, have the rumors not reached the backwater planet on which you now reside?”
“What rumors?”
“It is now common knowledge that Thor is enamored of a mortal.”
“So?”
“Well, the current whisper, gripping the court, is that Odin has made it clear that no midgardian shall ever sit on the throne of Asgard… and since this threat seems to have had no impact on your brother’s affections…”
Loki’s eyes widened.  “You mean…”
“Yes!  People are assuming he will shortly be removed from the line of succession.”
“But… but that has not happened.  There has been no proclamation.”
“Not yet, but the major families are already manoeuvring, in anticipation of an upset.”  Her eyes narrowed, “Surely, you have already begun to receive overtures and invitations?”
“I-I…” Loki hesitated, remembering the vast pile of parchments and missives that had greeted his arrival, and which currently lay, unread, in the far corner of his bedchamber.
She gave him a fond smile. “So you see, my heart, you are no longer the forgotten Prince.  Asgard now sees you, potentially, as her future King.  Which means, whoever you wed will become–”
“Queen of Asgard!”
“Precisely.”
She stepped away as Loki’s hands fell limp to his sides.  Expression business-like she gave him another appraising look.  “So now you see the need for me to move swiftly.  The vultures are already circling and  I have invested far too many centuries in this endeavor to have the throne stolen from me before I even have the chance to sit down.”  She straightened the collar of his tunic and pinched his cheeks to restore some color to his bloodless face.
“Do not fear,” she said in a soothing tone, “everything is in hand.  There is nothing you need to concern yourself with.  I’ve been speaking with your mother for a few weeks now, setting plans in motion and finalizing the details.  The wedding is scheduled for a few days' time and the invitations have already been sent.”
“Wedding?” Loki mumbled, his thoughts feeling strange and slowed.  “Invitations?”
“It’s going to be a beautiful ceremony,” she said with a happy sigh.  “And of course, the color scheme will be green and gold.”
“Color… scheme…” These were the last words Loki managed before his vision blurred and he felt his life flash before his eyes - all in all, he wasn’t impressed by what he saw.
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Richard tilted his head, as if considering the board and then bent and carefully nosed a counter into a vacant square on the checkerboard.
“You can’t move backwards,” Lex repeated and then sighed.  Trying to teach a penis to play checkers was an exercise in futility  - not to mention Richard was an even worse loser than the rest of him.  When Lex had had the temerity to win the first game, he’d thrown himself on the desk in a full blown tantrum, drumming his balls on the surface and writhing as if in pain.
That had been entertaining for a while, but after the third theatrical episode, it started to wear thin and Lex found it easier to simply ignore his blatant attempts to cheat and just let him win.
The little dance he performed when that happened was absolutely adorable and she’d filmed it for posterity  - and to torment Loki with later when he finally returned.
Without warning, a shudder ran through the disembodied penis and then he softened, keeling over on the desk.
Lex froze.  She’d never seen Loki completely flaccid.  
Even that one time Thor had walloped him with Moljnir hard enough to render him unconscious, he’d still remained semi-erect the entire time (Lex knew this because she’d checked).
This was not good!  
Terrified as to what this new state might mean, she raised her eyes to the ceiling and yelled “JARVIS!! GET THOR!!!”.
Returning her attention to the felled appendage, she stoked Richard gently and crooned encouraging words.
There was no response.
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Next Chapter
153 notes · View notes
sugaryplum · 5 months
Text
the tale of sugar cookies
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pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader summary: about how your procrastination got you a first date and a night spent in hogwarts’ kitchen. warnings: language mistakes, lots of cuteness, i made some hogwarts–related stuff up AND I’M SO SORRY TO ALL THE BRITISH PEOPLE. the name “cookies” just fits better. notes: first piece of the autumn(ish) collection, prompt here being baking together. i’m happy with the premise of this fic, i think it’s super cute. i’m a major procrastinator, currently supposed to be studying for the exam i have in a few days so i very much resonate. and i could really eat a sugar cookie right now yum yum
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your knee is bouncing. it’s stupid, really. consequences of some of your dumb choices catching up with you. you’re desperately in need of help, but now you try to focus on theo, who’s heading towards your library table.
he says “hi, y/n.” as he sits down next to you and you chuckle faintly. “i get a whole hi? you sound particularly excited to see me.” he rolls his eyes and smiles ever–so–slightly. “don’t acknowledge it or i’ll go back to just nodding.”
you two are in something. you don’t exactly know what it is and can’t pinpoint when it started, but it’s definitely something more than just study buddies, acquaintances or even friends. you’re a people person by nature, you’ve had so many friends over the years, but this, this is different. this is butterflies and hearts all around. this is overhearing his roommates talk about you, calling you “nott’s girl”. you can’t help but blush at even the thought of it.
today however, neither the boy sitting next to you, nor the essay you’re supposed to be finishing with him are the things on your mind.
“alright, you have to stop this.” after fifteen minutes of your mindless writing, theodore’s hand lands on your knee gently. the touch makes your heart go a bit faster. “you will bounce your knee into oblivion.”
“i’m not sure if oblivion takes in bouncing knees.”
he doesn’t acknowledge your poor attempt at a joke and just looks at you. it's the kind of expression that makes you want to tell him everything immediately. so you do.
“you’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”
“most things you say are a bit ridiculous, didn’t stop you before.”
your problem is fairly simple. you’re supposed to have one hundred sugar cookies in your dorm by halloween. that’s in two days. so far, there are no sugar cookies in your dorm and you want to drown in your sea of procrastination.
theo’s brows furrow. “one hundred?”
“it’s a hufflepuff thing. i’m sure you’ve heard of it.” you sigh, when he looks clueless. “every halloween we give first–years the opportunity to go trick or treating around all the dorms of older students. so the older students such as myself need to have treats prepared for each kid. most of the people just buy some sweets from hogsmeade but i thought it would make an excellent idea to make them myself. i got all the ingredients and stuff but never got around to do it, because the amount is overwhelming. and now halloween is so soon and i have nothing.” you’re almost breathless when you finish your rant, ready to take his scolding. what came upon you when you decided to do this? you had a whole month to go to honeydukes and buy some candies instead.
he’s quiet for a couple of seconds, looking at you the way he always does. a hint of excitement appears in his eyes, as if he got an idea. “i could help you.”
“what?”
“you heard me. tonight you need to finish this essay.” he looks down at your parchment with only the first few sentences and random doodles all around them. “but tomorrow we can do this. bring the ingredients and we’ll meet up in the kitchen. i end practice six thirty, we could start at seven.”
“you think we can make one hundred in one go?”
“nothing i can’t do.”
“that’s not true. but i’ll go with it this time.” you smile. it means a lot to you. not even the act itself, but the fact that he, of all people offered to help you. theo isn’t exactly a person who expresses his feelings easily, he’s not like you. and he definitely is not a person you could imagine in the kitchen, baking cookies for first–years. you thank him and hope he doesn’t notice the red on your cheeks. as expected, he doesn’t answer with anything but his eyes. you go back to the homework, calmer and happier.
time passes and you start feeling sleepy. you tell theo you’re going and you pack up your bag. when you stand up to leave, you hear his voice again.
“so tomorrow? kitchen? seven?”
you smile.
“it’s a date.”
you’re meant to turn around, but once you realize what you said, you freeze and your expression changes. your eyes stare at him for an excruciatingly long second, petrified. but all he does is shrug his shoulders slightly.
“yeah.” not even looking at you. he reacts as if you sky is blue. you can’t help a smile forming on your lips that only turns more beaming when you turn around and he can’t see your face. it’s a date. damn.
being a hufflepuff has it’s perks. one of them is constant access to the kitchen, accessible through the back of the common room. there were so many times throughout the years when you skipped the normal hogwarts’ dinner to cook something homely. or countless moments stumbling there in the middle of the night to make hot chocolate. you thanked helga everytime when you, or your friends got to taste the goodness you prepared.
today you’re also thankful. it’s almost seven in the evening and you’re giggling, seeing as theo is struggling to put on an apron.
“here, i’ll help you.” you tie it and step back, looking proud of your work. “you look like a professional.”
“i am a professional.”
“have you ever actually baked anything?”
“...no. but isn’t it just a couple of–” he moves his wind a few times to demonstrate what he means and you chuckle. he has no idea what he signed up for. “this will be fun.”
you put your arms on the table. “we’re doing this without magic. it’s better like that. tastier.”
he’s not talking for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something. “you’re joking. it’s one hundred cookies. how is a normal, sane person supposed to bake it all in one night, muggle style?”
“that’s exactly what i need your help for.”
“this is a trick, you’re tricking me.”
“not a trick, just my undying charm that caused you to worry about me so much, that you offered me help and now we’re gonna spend the evening baking cookies. you might actually learn something from it, it’ll be good for you.”
“cruel woman.” he shakes his head, but comes up to you anyway, getting a pinch of sugar into his mouth. you give him a scolding look and take away the sugar bowl.
“i’m gonna show you how to make the dough. it’s simple and we need a lot of it, for six whole batches.” his eyes follow you around the kitchen, when you take out ingredients from the shelves. “we need to mix everything together. first, butter and sugar. then flour.” you start mixing things in a big bowl with a spatula, stealing a few glances at the boy in front of you. he’s smiling.
four batches of cookies later, fifth one in the oven, theo really gets into it. at first he seemed skeptical, but now you can see the care in his eyes, when he adds the flour to the bowl, making sure he doesn’t spill anything.
“look at you! doing so well, you might end up as a cookie maker after a–” before you get to finish the sentence, he gets some flour in his hand and throws it all on your face.” when you open your eyes, you see a small grin on his face. “you look like a ghost.”
you talke a big breath and exhale slowly. then you steal the flour from behind his body, ready to fight back. “you are not getting away with this!”
a sweet war starts between you two. each of you fire your shots. all you can do is laugh, there’s powdered sugar on your nose, cheeks and lips. you feel like a small child, so carefree and innocent.
laughter distracts you from the situation you’re in. theo is holding you by the wrists, preventing your hands, armed with a spatula of dough, from rubbing the mass into his face. your eyes open to meet his and in one moment you both turn quiet. you might be delusional, but this seems like perfect time for a kiss.
his lips crash into yours so suddenly, that you barely get the chance to register that it’s actually happening. when he backs away after a second, you pull him in once again, this time him much more confidently.
„you taste like sugar.” you whisper against his lips.
„i wonder why.” he whispers back and kisses you again, and again.
you like the softness on his cheeks when you touch them, and way his hands wrap around your waist. you stay like this for a moment, closer than ever before, until you’re brought back to reality by the oven alarm. sugar cookies. you pat his shoulder and run to get the baking tray.
when you turn back to him, he’s still leaning his lower back on the table, looking at you, smirking. you pretend like you’re not extremely flustered and point to the bowl he never finished mixing. „work, theo! this dough won’t mix itself!”
he quickly grabs the spatula again, saluting to her with it. „yes, chef!”
you giggle. „i don’t think it works like that in cookie shops.”
„yes, chef.” he murmurs quietly, glancing again, as if to see how you react.
you roll your eyes, smile and look away, feeling your cheeks getting hot. your face hurts from all the smiling, but with the smell of sugar cookies and theodore’s eyes on your back, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to stop any time soon.
325 notes · View notes
miyseung · 6 months
Text
𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒
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summary: ahn yujin was a name you didn't want to hear ever since your break up three months ago. sure, it hurt at first, but now you were okay, you were over her. until she gave you a letter.
genre: angsty fluff
includes: panic attacks (happens twice), parties, mentions of alcohol (reader doesn't drink) and making out, all of lsrfm and ive except leeseo and eunchae, lizrei side ship, reader is in denial, angst with a happy ending, exes to lovers, lmk if i missed anything
pairing: ex! yujin x ex! fem! reader
word count: 3.1k
a/n: this took way longer to type down than i'd like to admit
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With shaking hands, Yujin gave you a small envelope before dashing off in the opposite direction. Your heart leaped as you guessed what it was.
Yujin was your ex. It had been three months since you both ended things. She told you that she didn’t feel like she was in the right mindset to continue being in a relationship anymore. While you were grateful that she didn’t just ghost or ignore you completely, damn right did that hurt. What was worse was how you couldn’t really blame anyone for this since it was no one’s fault.
You had moved on though. You had bandaged up your wounds, and the ghosts that haunted your which reminded you of her had been exorcised. 
You were ready for this letter, but you weren’t going to read it on campus. Shoving the envelope in your purse, you walked out. Autumn was evident — leaves were turning orange, brown and yellow, falling out of trees and flying away with the gentle, cool breeze. You pulled the beanie you were wearing more over your ears, not wanting them to go cold. The sound of soft, calming music playing in your earphones accompanying the visual treat your eyes got to see made you smile to yourself and momentarily forget about Yujin and her letter. Upon reaching your dorm, you took out the dorm key and unlocked it, seeing the living room pristine as usual. Trust Rei and Wonyoung for that. You went into your room, which was a stark contrast. Throwing your purse and bag onto your bed, you flopped into your chair in front f your desk exhausted. It was a Friday, which meant that you had the weekend to do your work (or procrastinate), so you stayed in your chair in an odd position, almot like a ragdoll.
Your eyes darted to your purse and you sighed.
Yujin.
‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ a voice in your head said.
‘But satisfaction brought it back,’ another one argued.
You reached out for your purse. If you didn’t read it, you’d be in the dark about what Yujin wanted to tell you, and it’d be rude to ignore her and what she wanted to say. Your fingers traced the edges of the white envelope, as if scared to read the contents. Slowly peeling off the seal, you undid the flap and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it carefully, heart beating quic-
“Y/N, Y/N, me and Wonyoung are going to the mall to get some new clothes. There’s a limited edition collection. You coming?”
This could wait. A distraction was exactly what you needed.
“Sure. Give me ten minutes to get ready.”
“The outfit you came back in is fine.”
“Bu- Wait, you saw me?”
“Duh?”
“Oh. Alright then.”
Placing the envelope in your desk drawer, you took your purse again, before opening the door of your room. Rei and Wonyoung were waiting in the living room, Rei giggling at her phone and Wonyoung teasing her about it. Their outfits fit them and their personality perfectly, and for a minute you felt self conscious. Their fashion sense was to die for.
“Ah, Y/N! Ready?”
“Yep. Wonyoung, I really like your shirt. It’s cute.”
She smiled sweetly at you.
“Thank you. Yujin bought it for me.”
Your face froze at the mention of her, and Wonyoung (being the caring person she is) immediately apologized.
“Ah, sorry. I know things aren’t all…smooth sailing…with you guys.”
She grimaced at her own mistake, but you didn’t notice. You were thinking about the letter, and your mind was tracing back to the memories of the year you were together, and oh God, oh God-
“Y/N?”
You could feel her hands on your shoulders, concerned eyes looking down at you.
“You’re shaking…”
She hugged you tight in a moment so rapid you barely felt it. Her arms wrapped around you protectively, one of her hands patting your head like a mother comforting her child. Rei was nearby too. You didn’t see their faces, since your eyes were closed shut so that you could prevent your tears from falling, but you could hear Rei softly talking and reassuring you that everything was okay, a stark contrast to how she usually was.
“Y/N, listen to Wonyoung’s breathing, okay? In and out…in and out. That’s it, that’s it. Nothing’s going to happen, you’re just fine.
They didn’t know what else to say. Neither of you did anything wrong, and Yujin was their friend too. It was a confusing thing to handle.
“Y/N, how do you feel now? Do you still want to come?”
“Yeah. Need to take my mind off things.”
“You sure?”
“Mm.”
“Not a clear answer.”
“I am.”
Rei sighed before nodding.
“If you’re okay.”
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Five hours.
You were at the mall for five hours.
And it sure as hell did take your mind off things.
There you were in your room — stomach satisfied, bags with clothes, stationary and other random items (maybe a plushie or two) in the corner, yet your mind was still restless. Delaying the reading of the letter was not a good idea, since now you had even more nerves than before. You had to open it at some point, but holy shit could you just not do it? You took out the paper inside and unfolded it slowly, your hands shaking as much as Yujin’s when she gave it to you.
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Dear Y/N,
It’s been three months. I thought I moved on, really.
As I write this to you, I realize I haven’t.
I’m not asking you to take me back, but I can’t sleep properly at night because I think about you and cry so much.
~ Yujin
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Your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped. You thought you had healed, but this? These three sentence ripped off the bandages and rubbed salt into the wounds in your heart. You put the paper on your desk, wanting to process what you just ‘blessed’ your sight with, although your brain begged you to read it again. In the end, you gave in and read through it again.
And again.
And again.
And then it hit.
Yujin still loved you. It was so simple with the way she wrote it, but due to the shock factor, it didn’t click.
Yujin still loved you.
No wonder she was shaking.
There was another question — did you still love her too?
Didn’t you move on?
Didn’t you?
Or had you been lying to yourself this whole time?
Leaning back in your chair, you started thinking. You would think about her every night, every time you were bored, every time you were free, every time you were stressed — basically, all the time. You’d think about how she’d hold you, comfort you, hug you, kiss you, cuddle you, talk to you, laugh with you, cry in front of you, vent to you…and more.
Whenever you found yourself in an unideal situation, your mind always darted back to Yujin. ‘What would Yujin do?’ was something you’d ask yourself when you were in hot waters. 
Maybe you weren’t over her.
Maybe you still needed her.
Scratch that maybe.
You still loved her.
This realization — this enlightenment — shook you to the core.
The world was spinning around you. You desperately needed her. You needed her with you, to hug you, to calm you down and to tell you that everything was going to be alright. 
But she wasn’t here, she wasn’t here.
Interrupting the loud and muddled thoughts in your brain causing havoc was a soft knock at your door. 
“Y/N-ah? Can I come in?”
Hastily shoving the envelope and letter in your drawer, you call out.
“Sure, Rei!”
You saw the door handle slowly move, and the girl entered. Her eyes scanned the room, before finding a spot to sit on your bed. You tried to act cool, willing your eyes away from the drawer.
“Y/N, how are you feeling now?”
“What do you mean?”
“A lot, honestly- but right now I’m referring to the slight panic attack you had earlier…?”
“Oh, that. I’m fine, I swear. Yujin’s name just brought back back memories, and- I don’t really know.”
She nodded, her face making it evident that she was lost in her thoughts.
“So the reason I came here is to ask you something.”
“Go on.”
“There’s a party happening tomorrow evening Wonyoung’s not going because she wants to complete her assignments, and I don’t want to go alone…”
She pursed her lips into a thin line and looked at you, a tad bit of hope in her eyes.
“I mean, sure.”
“It’s going to be in Yujin’s dorm…Gaeul and Chaewon are hosting it. I’m pretty sure that Yujin won’t be coming out of her room though.”
That made you freeze. Even though Rei had mentioned that it was unlikely that you’d see her, there was still a chance you would.
Did you want to risk it?
Rei had no one else.
Things could either go spectactularly right or horribly wrong.
“I’ll come.”
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
“You’re sure sure?”
“I’m sure sure.”
You laughed a little, and she smiled too.
“Tomorrow, 7 p.m. Wear something…party-ish, but not too formal, I guess? You know what I mean.”
“Yup.”
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6:45 p.m.
You were sitting on the couch of the living room, wearing an outfit you deemed appropriate for the party. Rei was still getting ready in her room, so to pass the time you were on your phone, scrolling through your Instagram feed.
Chaewon. Like, comment.
Gaeul. Like, comment.
Wonyoung. Like, comment.
Jiwon, Rei. Like, comment, cute.
Yujin.
She didn’t post anything fancy or pictures of her going outside or having fun.
It was just selcas of her wearing her new headphones. She had her favorite lipgloss on, her hair was in a bun and she was wearing her glasses in the pictures.
10 minutes ago.
She probably wasn’t going to be in the party then, since her outfits for parties were completely different.
You should have been sighing in relief, but no — you felt your heart sink from disappointment.
Yet, you were staring at the pictures. She looked adorable, and she was smiling brightly in the last picture, and damn it you were falling for her all over again.
If you weren’t down bad before, this cemented it.
You wanted to see her smile, you wanted to see her face right in front of yours, not on an Instagram picture that didn’t fully capture and present her beauty. You wanted to see her laugh because of you. You wanted her to be with you, and it hurt.
You quickly turned off your phone as you heard footsteps. Rei came in, shining with excitement. She looked stunning. You grinned at her.
“Trying to impress someone?”
Her face turned red, and she looked away from you.
“Uh…um…”
“Is Jiwon coming? Your precious Liz?”
She was cosplaying a tomato at this point, giving you your answer. Liz was a nickname for Jiwon that only Rei had permission to use, and bringing it up was how you could squeeze stuff out of either of them that they were unwilling to divulge at first.
“She is, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Cute. Love the Instagrm post too, by the way.”
“You saw-?”
“Of course.”
“Y/N…”
“I’m not stalking you both! I follow you girls, remember?”
She sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. We should get going now, it’s 6:57.”
You realized how quickly time passed while you were staring at Yujin’s pictures. You stood up and walked out the door, not really expecting anything.
When you reached, the strong smell of alcohol hit your nostrils and you winced, not really liking it. You couldn’t back out now, however, so you just shrugged it off before sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room as people danced, socialized and drank all around you.
You didn’t know anyone at the party on a close basis save for Gaeul, Chaewon, Sakura, Yunjin, Kazuha and of course Rei. You preferred to keep your circle of friends relatively small so that you wouldn’t be involved in any drama, although you liked hearing about it. You always thought it worked effectively, but now you were wondering what it’d be like to be on the dance floor with a few other friends.
Chaewon and Gaeul came over and talked to you at some point, but they had to leave after a while since they were the hosts and had attend to other guests. Chaewon told you that Yunjin and Kazuha didn’t want to come. Sakura was busy, so she couldn’t. Just like Wonyoung, you couldn’t help but think.
You were thirsty and they had arranged some juice in the corner for those who didn’t want to drink. You got off the couch, deciding to let the couple making out nearby have some space. You went over to the table with the juice, and you took a bit of time to choose what you wanted to drink. As you were troubling yourself with this very hard choice, you heard a quiet and groggy voice right behind you.
“Hey, can you pass me a cup of apple juice?”
Extremely familiar voice. Your fingers gripped the plastic cup in your hand tighter.
“Yu…Yujin?”
You turned around, and your guess was right.
There she was in full glory.
She had those headphones on, and was wearing an oversized shirt and sweatpants that looked comfy. You subconsciously tugged at the collar of your dress. Her hair was ruffled, and her eyes were red and puffy along with her face looking sullen, making it obvious that she had been crying before.
“Y-Y/N? I’m sorry, I-I’ll just get-get it my-myself-”
“No, it’s…fine. Apple juice, right?”
The tension was so thick that your 3rd grade English teacher’s ass was (quite literally) shaking. She nodded, and watched you pour her a cup. You could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to say something, and you guessed that it was about the letter.
Suddenly, you could feel her hand on your shoulder, before she gently pulled you close to her as she wrapped her arms around you in one of her familiar and comforting hugs. Her hand was in your hair, stroking it.
“Come, let’s go to my room. I’ll help you calm down.”
You didn’t say anything in protest, instead simply allowing her to take you. The two of you went inside her dorm room, and she closed the door, locking it. Your eyes darted around the four walls you were in, and your mind flashed with memories of that whole year you both had. You set free the tears trapped in the prison that was your eyes. She hugged you tightly again, her voice soothing.
“Y/N, darling, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry.”
The petname she reserved for you, ‘darling’, slipped out of her mouth, as she always used to use that with you. She froze for a moment, but as she saw that you had no reaction to it, she relaxed. Back then she could call you that unabashedly, but now she had to be careful. You didn’t care though, you loved the way it rolled off her tongue.
After a few minutes, you had finally calmed down. You looked at the plastic cup in your hand, noticing that it was now half empty. You were sure that it was nearly filled to the brim before though. Your eyes trailed to Yujin’s shirt and you saw a few stains on it, solving the mystery of the missing juice. Were your hands really shaking that much?
“Um…sorry about the juice on your shirt.”
“Nevermind it. How do you feel now?”
You slowly moved the cup — now only contaning half of its previous content — to her free hand, but she gently pushed it back and tilted your hand upward, towards your face.
“You drink it.”
“But-”
“Drink.”
She smiled a little at you, and you were mesmerized. You probably looked like an idiot right now, gaping at your ex, but could you really care? She was here, in front of you, smiling at you, and your eyes darted to her lips almost instinctively, missing how they felt on yours.
“Y/N, how do you feel now?”
Obviously, you couldn’t stare forever.
“Better. Thanks Yujin, you…really helped.”
She tilted her head at you endearingly in her usual manner, her smile getting wider, although there was some sadness behind it.
"I missed you."
Her eyes widened, her facial features rearranged into surprise, confusion and a tiny bit of hope.
“You…missed me?”
You looked at your fingers, fiddling with them nervously. 
“Uh…sorry if it was a bit inappropriate to say rig-”
“No, no, no- don’t apologize, Y/N.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t mind.”
Her eyes looked deeply into yours, searching for something, searching for an answer. You knew what she wanted, and you took a deep breath.
“I…I read your letter.”
Her eyes widened, and her fingers intertwined with your desperately. You missed the feeling of her hand fitting perfectly into yours badly, and you didn’t realize that until now.
“And…? I’m not going to react harshly to anything you say, I just-just need an ans-”
“I want you back.”
Her eyes were about to pop out of their sockets at this point. Her face was full of disbelief.
“Re…Really?”
“Yeah.”
Gently taking the plastic cup from your hand before setting it on the nightstand near her bed (one you remembered well), she held the other hand too, a silly little smile on her face.
“Y/N, you don’t have to if you don’t wan-”
“But I do. I want you. I want whatever we had. I need it all back.”
Her smile reached her eye, squeezing out a few tears. One of her hands moved from yours to cup your cheek. 
“Thank you for giving me another chance, Y/N darling. I was scared of what you’d say, if I’ll be honest.”
You smiled at the familiar nickname, and inched a bit closer until your foreheads were touching. She giggled softly, a sound that warmed your heart.
In a quick movement, you felt her lips on yours in a small yet delicate peck, as if anything more would make you break. She pulled back, looking away shyly. Your eyes were wide, and your face was frozen in shock. Your lips were parted slightly for a moment, before you put a hand on her shirt collar and tugged it, making her jerk forward so that her lips could meet yours again. 
Just like that, you both were back in the old times.
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