#// do not perceive me im going to go curl up in a corner now

[so2uv]

@ so2uv's sappy time.

end of the year. ive survived and that's scary but you know what? it'll be fine. we'll all be fine and im promising that; whether it be this year, the next, or far in the future, we'll be ok :)) it's stupid how this platform, one that my friends teased me for using, left such an impact on me as a person.

AKA. MY END OF YEAR MUTUAL APPRECIATION POST. (warning: these got long and sort emotional for me to write. well, as emotional as i can get fjkdhgkjfd. sorry if my coherence gets lost later on. forgive me if you weren't mentioned specifically for something; i have more mutuals that expected. it's genuinely surprising.)

if you weren't mentioned specifically, there's still a note for you at the bottom. sorry for making you scroll for long to find it :'DD

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @tiredsleep . . . the mutual who has stuck through it all. oh tired. tired, tired, tired. i think im a little stupid for how happy i get when you like a post or send an ask or keyboard smash in my reblogs. a lot of what i said in my long ask to you a while back is what im trying to convey now. the way we met wasn't through much special; i followed you and eventually you followed back. it was slow going in the ways we interacted but the nicest things take time and im so glad we're the way we are now. we're strangers, two little guys on the internet, and i think it's beautiful how we have this. you're an amazing writer, an all around amazing creator of the worlds you build and the characters you create. i don't think you realized how envious i used to be of you; you made it seem like it was easy enough for you to connect with others, your writing was something id never achieve with mine, it was flat out jealousy. it was my fault we were distant to begin with. i soon figured out that praise was correct: you are among the most wonderful people ive had the pleasure of knowing and talking to you, even if it's just through a screen. there's so much more for me to say that i constantly struggle to put into the correct words to get the point across. just know that you have great things out there for you. have a great new year, tired. we'll make it. im so proud of you.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @aelatus . . . the last standing mutual of all my og (close) mutuals. hello atlas! im not sure if you'll ever see this on tumblr since i know you don't log on much but you've been my mutual through three blog changes now; was there for my xstar-kidx era and kozmiixs stage. we've been through shit together, had banter about grammarly together, lost certain mutuals together, have changed blogs, changed themes, switched fandoms, fell out of love with fandoms. it's been a wild couple of years, huh? im so thankful we've met and got close in the ways that we did and that we're able to call each others close. your birthday is soon so in the case that i forget to say this on discord: happy birthday, the xiao to my albedo. live a life of freedom and joy, my love /p.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @izukxnnie . . . hara :((( i don't think you'll ever come to read this message but that's alright; maybe it's for the better kdfgh. i know i sent you that long winded ask on your blog already but i miss talking and interacting with you, even with all my awkwardness. im still so regretful of that one time i sent a request to join your world but then you were busy and i didn't read your messages until later that day as in hours later bc i was at school and idk if i ever responded to them in the end. maybe i'll send you a message on discord later. maybe i won't bc i'll be too sentimental. i really hope you're doing more than well, that you're happy doing what you do.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @ay-asterisms . . . the mutual who introduced me to so many others. i really have you to thank for what i have now, ay. truly. you brought me deeper into the hq fandom and introduced me to jennie, atlas, and others. we don't talk much but i'll say what ive mentioned before, you remind me so much of the sun. but not as the bringer of life and the ball we see every morning; a sun in the sense that you're a star closer to earth but still a star, still out there where there are multiple. the difference is that you just happen to bring a warmth that others can't provide for ones nearby.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @cryo-locket / @lo-cinno . . . you. im not even sure how we became mutuals, and my memory is pretty good. we just spawned in each other's zones one day and went yeah, alright. honestly, ive never said this to anyone, but you were one of the reasons i decided to focus more heavily on chinese. our interactions reminded me of why i wanted to relearn the language for myself: for the social connections. i genuinely love talking to you and always find myself laughing at our conversations. mainly because our timezone dif is so odd so it's always late in the evening when im on. your ebg was so fun and with all the pain it brought / hj, im so happy to have been part of it. thank you for putting up with my 2 am rambles and crack, hope you found laugh or two with them.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @pr3tty-jennie . . . you intimidated me when we first met. i still remember it actually: you had that kamninari theme and the most recent post on your blog was about how you couldn't remember the word for chandelier in english but knew it in french. you've been through so much, endured so much, and i respect you so much. always have, always will. your life story and the past don't define who you show as a person and im so amazed by that part of you. have a good day, good week, good rest of your life pretty girl :DD

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @june-again . . . it's crazy, you know? crazy how far we've both drifted off from the original fandom that brought us together? but that's character development. speaking of that, ive gotten the absolute pleasure of seeing you grow as a person and go through the motions of life. it's always chill talking to you, jokes come easy hah! you're an amazing musician, june. amazing person, amazing at writing, amazing at music; you're outstanding so in the words of Freddy fazbear from security break, way to go superstar! i knew you could do it and i know you still can.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @junjiie . . . the seungmin to my minho, the other half of 2min, the self proclaimed jeno to my renjun (have yet to be a dreamzen my b :(() and the no. 1 solieber. i was serious when i said you're the reason my other blog exists; you've been the biggest hype person when it came down to me going out of my comfort zone and writing. i was so nervous going up to talk to you at first kjfdhgkj but now, you're just another silly guy in my phone screen :DD thank you for sending all your updates about life and putting up with mine even though they never get answered- seungmin to not only my minho, but hyunjin too, let's keep being #Silly, yeah?? it's already the actual new years day when you're receiving this so i hope the year is off to a good start.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @sohyuki . . . MINT im hoarding the ask that you sent me on christmas day. im always so happy when you've shown up on dash and while im sad about how you've let tumblr mainly behind, i know it's for the better since well, interactions have been shit and probably will never get back up to the standard we held them to, even with all the effort put in. you are such an amazing all around person and like i said in my christmas note to you, keep writing. hoard it, feed into it, you have something wonderful going on with it.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @kamiyatos . . . user kamiyatos!!! lee!!! HELLO!!! it's always such a pleasure to talk to you and i hope you know that i keep your ramble about malleus' character and your plot idea for him in the back of my mind constantly, even though that ask has been lost to my actions of deactivation on my old blog. you're the biggest ayato fan i know who supports my works about him vocally AND you understand my vision on his personality... it's truly touching, y'know? thank you for being there, even when we don't talk as much as we should. i hope this year has been kind on you and the next one is even kinder.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @yinyinggie . . . yingyingyingyingerkjshkjfdg ok this may come as a shock, or maybe you already knew and were just playing along, but we used to be mutuals before the summer of last year. secret identity revealed ig?? eh im sure if you dig far enough into my dark past™️ you'll find smth about it so im not going to say anything about it :P but! one thing has stayed the same for sure: you are so easy and so fun to talk to and make conversation with. you know that ramble i left on the astro twerk form about feedback for the server? yeah. im 100% truthful. you've made something so inclusive and positive, have done to much to get tumblr active, please know that your efforts aren't wasted. im sure they feel like it at times but i appreciate it so much. and im sure others have the same sentiment.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @mhiieee . . . MHIEEEEEEEE MY SCARA FAN !!!! i love and adore your works so much and not to mention your characterization of scaramouche is top tier. ive got a lot to learn from you, mhie; i don't think you realize how much there is to admire when it comes to you as a person. you find such meaning and connection in the words and the world, the sincerity that comes with it,,,,, it makes me want to sob and roll around while also simultaneously wanting to take your brain apart neuron by neuron and psychoanalyze you. not in the freudian way though. ive had the greatest honor of being able to interact with you on not just one, but two!!! servers!!! i think it's a little silly how much i smile when you reply to smth dumb ive said on disc. have a great new year :))

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @ryuryuryuyurboat . . . RYUUUUUU literally the most stunning person to walk the planet ever like. hello??? our first interactions came from that ebg funny enough. does a little ★🪽 anon ring a bell? i only ever got around to sending you one sabo during that time but i hope you did enjoy what i came up with on the spot, i never was very good when it came down to kaeya's character. you are so intelligent and such an amazing individual, please always remember that.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @snobwaffles / @2nobwaffles . . . SNOB SNOB SNOB i always think of the pokemon when your name comes up. in my head, you will always be snom, the bug-ice type pokemon <33 IT'S SO FUN TALKING TO YOU and we haven't been mutuals for long either. im always thinking of the advice you left me when it came down to my rant about an irls party and there's something about the way you're able to appreciate and take note and find beauty int he smallest of things that get brought up. i wish you the complete best that 2024 has to off you. keep calm and snob on :DD

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @itaerae & @mins-fins . . . im putting the two of you together because well, i met you both at the same time through the server. while i can't consider it and, ive never really had such an inviting time in a server, much less a network, as ive had in zumblr. really, it's you two that i owe thanks to. our silly little convos are so fun and im forever thankful that ive found people to talk to on a server for once.

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @https-furina . . . the best server mother fr!!! omg it's so nice talking to you :((( i love the warmth of your words and how your emotions shine through text. it feels like i can practically envision the fond eyeball or the warm smile that you may or may not have on your face when messaging. i’ve had such a great time in the network and your pet names fjfbdjdbjdb have a great 2024 heh :DD

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @lethwal & @astrinityy . . . i don't think you guys realize how fun it was when we were all "debating" and accusing me of being a furry. honestly, i haven't had to stifle laughter like that in the middle of the night as hard as i did for a small while. not too long but long enough. it was a breath of fresh air and it was genuinely amazing to just be able to put the present on the back burner and play around like that. even though it was kind of late for me when that was happening- ignore that. it's always late for me when im online atp. i hope we can get past those baseless accusations you have both placed on me tehe. have a happy new years, you two. ALSO YIXIN!! GA-MING PROTECTION SQUAD RISEEEEE

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @/zumblr . . . there's so many of you and i can't find the proper words to express the welcome i felt when added to the server. it was nerve wracking, ive never really gotten around to talking to that many people or being that open on the internet before. it's funny how one summer can bring you out of your shell a little, eh? and all bc of some guys on screen lmao. thank you for the support and im happy to have met such wonderful people. thank you, again. @urielphix I AM. DETERMINED TO READ ADAD JUST YOU WAIT

𖣂 ┈ ⟡ ˒ @ everyone else, all my mutuals as of now and past, who weren't mentioned or mutuals who want to read something again . . . hello!! im sorry to disappoint by not adding you properly and for not giving a personalized thanks; it wasn't anything against it you at all. reason 1) i probably forgot as um. goldfish brain or 2) we just became mutuals pretty recently and haven't had the chance to really talk much / have been sort of long term but haven't talked much.

either way though, thanks for sticking around! im not the most. literate person. sometimes LMAO and im far from being a proud person of skill when it comes to the right words to say to people but im always happy when people find something worth it in my silly words. i hope we get to interact more in the future, as long as you can put up with my inconsistent (to say the least) replies and brain boggling posts that come from the depths of the midnight zone, that is. get ready for the ride that is this. clusterfuck of a blog place. LMAO,,,, if you haven't already scrolled through my stuff. if you have then um ready for more??? fkdjhgkjlghf

if you've made it to the end, thank you. and why?? im not that interesting or cool as everyone makes me out to be. if you had told 2019 me on tumblr that 4 years later, id be posting my works for everyone to see and also be proud of my own poetry, i would have laughed and called you absolutely insane. some of you have sat through me going through different gender and pronoun crises on dash back in 2020, and some of you ive only met this month.

whatever our situation is, i wish all the best for everyone . i’ll support you guys until the end of the earth and then some. have the happiest of happy new years, may your futures always be brighter than you say they are, and i’ll see you later 💛

sincerely — sol / jun

#🔎. navi ! #// do not perceive me im going to go curl up in a corner now #// ive never been this sentimental or thought out a personal post quite as much as this one #// vulnerability isn't my strong suit ok??? #// i wish these were more put together TwT

[hrina]

Something Strange

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: R WORD COUNT: 6.3k+ REQUESTED: no

uhhhh hi. so. this is my (first ever) halloween fic, ft. infuriatingly cocky ghostbuster!harry. i really hope you guys enjoy it, and just like every other writer on this godforsaken site, i’d love to hear any feedback that you might have. ok im done now lol go forth and read :)

warnings: cursing, brief nsfw content, a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions, and harry being an asshole with a secret heart of gold.

~*~

    October 2nd, 2021

Your attention is first caught by the massive, obnoxiously-coloured truck parked in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway. The entire vehicle is a shade of navy blue, though its sophistication is ruined by the neon green bubble lettering streaked across its doors.

Spooked? Call Styles’ Scares!

Beneath that, there’s a promise painted in bright pink:

Lasting results or your money back!

“What the hell?” you mutter.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit your car, momentarily forgetting about the groceries sitting in the trunk. Mindy and Gerald are standing on their porch, absorbed in a light-hearted conversation. When they catch sight of you trekking across the lawn, they smile brightly and offer up a pair of welcoming waves.

“Hi, there!” you call, shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “What’s all this?”

“Good afternoon, dear!” Mindy replies. She quickly descends the front steps, meeting you halfway and enveloping you in a tight hug. “How are you? It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

“You can drop in whenever you want,” you say, chuckling. “It’s not like I live very far away.”

“How have you been?” Gerald follows his wife, steadily making his way off the porch. “How’s school?”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Things are picking up, now, but I’m trying my best to stay on top of them.”

You toss your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the bright pickup truck parked in their driveway. (It really is ugly, you think. Probably one of the ugliest vehicles that you’ve ever had the displeasure of perceiving.)

“What’s going on?”

“Oh!” Mindy lifts her hands to her mouth, gazing at you with wide, serious eyes. “Our house is haunted.”

You balk. “Pardon me?”

“I know, I know,” she sighs, shaking her head. “It sounds silly. I didn’t believe it at first either, but—something keeps knocking our picture frames off the wall. And the lights! They start flickering at random intervals throughout the day.”

“Are you sure it’s not just rats?” you joke.

Gerald, who has now joined you on the lawn, holds up his hand solemnly. “We tried using traps, but they haven’t been touched at all.”

“Exactly.” Mindy nods, turning back to you. “We’re already worried about Joseph’s wedding next week, so one of the ladies at the community centre recommended Harry. That same day, Gerald gave him a call, and that was the end of it.”

“Who’s Harry?” you ask, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Er—” A deep voice sounds from behind you. “I am.”

When you turn around, you come face-to-face with one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He’s got mossy green eyes, dark pink lips, and brown hair that curls around his temples and behind his ears. Smooth skin stretches out over high, chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He’s wearing a pair of light-wash jeans and matching white sneakers. A black hoodie covers his broad chest; upon taking a closer look, you note that the two front strings have been tied into a picturesque little bow.

Mindy wastes no time, introducing the two of you immediately. When Harry holds out his hand for you to shake, you don’t hesitate.

“Did you want my card?” he asks, peering at you curiously.

You study his expression. Beneath his seemingly sincere exterior, arrogance runs wild and unchecked. You know this man. You’ve met him a hundred different times under a hundred different circumstances, and you’ve learned to recognize a lost cause when you’re staring it square in the face.

“Not at all.” You shoot him a fake smile. “I’m just the neighbour.”

“Right.” His lips twitch. He steps back, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin in the direction of the house. “Well, I should probably get to work. It was nice meeting you, babe.”

Your nose wrinkles as the pet name sinks in.

When you turn back around to resume your conversation with Mindy and Gerald, they’re gone. Your eyes bounce to the right, where you find them guiding Harry up the porch steps. Mindy has one hand on his bicep whilst gesturing animatedly with the other. Gerald opens the front door and holds out his arm, welcoming Harry inside.

You scoff, shaking your head in disdain.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” you mumble as you make your way back across the lawn. The trunk of your car squeaks when you pull it open, and plastic bags rustle as you gather your groceries into your arms.

Ghosts aren’t real. And Harry is obviously a scammer, based on…well, based on everything. The tacky design on his truck. The unprofessional wardrobe. The self-assuredness emanating from every cell in his body. Babe.

But Mindy and Gerald truly believe that their home is haunted. Trying to change their minds without a shred of physical proof is pointless. You blow out a soft sigh, accepting the grim reality of your situation.

Your neighbours are gullible, trusting people. And for the next few days—whether you like it or not—Harry is here to stay.

      October 5th, 2021

You’re approximately two seconds away from chucking your textbook against the far wall.

You’ve been trying to finish this chapter for the past hour. And though you pride yourself on being tolerant when it comes to petty annoyances, your patience is wearing thin. A quick glance out of your bedroom window reveals Harry’s hideous pickup truck parked—yet again—in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway.

You roll your eyes. Of course.

The piercing, raucous whirring starts up again; you release a frustrated yell, slamming your book shut and leaping off your bed. You’re muttering obscenities under your breath as you stalk down the hall, stopping briefly to slide on a pair of fuzzy slippers. When you yank your front door open, the chilly autumn air settles into your bones.

The clamour grows louder as you stomp across your shared lawn. When you knock on Mindy and Gerald’s door, the commotion is nearly unbearable. A few seconds go by, during which your presence remains unacknowledged; you rap once again on the wood, hoping that the sound will be conspicuous enough amidst all of the background noise.

Sure enough, everything goes quiet. Your shoulders slump with relief just as the door opens. Mindy greets you with a friendly smile.

“Hi, dear,” she says kindly. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi.” You force yourself to mirror her affable expression, hoping that she can’t see the pained exhaustion brewing in your eyes. “Could I just—could I speak with Harry, please? It won’t take long.”

“Of course.” She nods before peering at you anxiously. “Don’t tell me that you’ve got ghosts, too.”

“No.” You shake your head. Ghosts aren’t real, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “No, I just—I just need to have a quick word with him, that’s all.”

“Alright. I’ll go fetch him.” She turns around and totters away.

You hear her call his name, followed by the telltale sound of shuffling. After a few long moments, he’s there, leaning against the doorway with a bemused look on his face.

“Evening, babe,” he says coolly. “What’s up?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, folding your arms over your chest.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot upward. He hadn’t expected you to greet him with such animosity, you suppose. His outfit is nearly identical to that of the other day, save for the red bandana perched atop his head. He buries his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging nonchalantly and pinning you with a blasé, unimpressed gaze.

“Noted,” he says. The corners of his lips curl up into a crooked smirk as he repeats, “What’s up?”

“You need to keep it down,” you say flatly. “I don’t know what kind of fake ‘exorcism’ bullshit you’re trying to pull off, but the noise is driving me insane. I need to study.”

“‘Fake’?” Harry parrots. “You don’t believe in spirits?”

“No,” you deadpan. “I don’t.” You narrow your eyes, studying the subtle movements of his face. “And if I had to take a wild guess, neither do you.”

“Really,” he says, chuckling softly. It isn’t a question.

“Really.”

Harry watches you, tickled by your obvious exasperation. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“Look at that,” you say, rolling your eyes. “He does have a brain.”

“You’re so judgmental.” He laughs, shaking his head. “How can you dislike me when you barely even know me?”

“I know enough,” you reply, scowling. “I know that you’re a fraud who takes advantage of people and their fears. And for what? Just so that you can take home a paycheque at the end of the day?”

“Ouch.” Harry feigns injury, placing a large hand over his heart. “That hurts, babe.”

There it is again. Babe.

“You know what?” Your nostrils flare. “Forget this—it’s like trying to explain rocket science to a toddler.”

He grins. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m much cuter, though, don’t you think?”

You scoff, pedalling backward. “In your dreams.”

His delight only seems to grow when your retort sinks in. You whip around, descending the porch steps and storming back toward your house. When you chance a glance over your shoulder, Harry is still standing in the doorway, a shit-eating smile stretched wide across his cheeks.

“Just keep it down, okay?” you call irritably.

He raises two fingers to his temple in a mock-salute, and you march away without another word.

      October 8th, 2021

“You’re sure?”

You laugh. “Yes, Mindy, I’m sure. I promise.”

“Alright,” she assents, blowing out a quiet sigh through the phone. “I went grocery shopping today, so our cupboards are fully stocked—help yourself to anything you’d like. Also, when you flush the downstairs toilet, the water may look like it’s rising, but it goes down after a second or two.”

“Noted.” You snicker. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” she says. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” you reply. “Tell Joseph and Amy that I said congratulations, yeah?”

“We will! See you later, dear.”

“See you later.”

      October 9th, 2021

When Mindy and Gerald get back tomorrow afternoon, you’re going to wring their necks.

Agreeing to housesit whilst they celebrated their son’s wedding a few cities away? Sure. Fine. You had a long night full of nothing planned—sitting in front of the television, munching on some snacks, relaxing for the evening and trying to forget about all of the schoolwork waiting for you at home. You were in the middle of watching a Golden Girls rerun when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” You stood, setting your bowl of popcorn aside. The knocking continued as you made your way to the front entrance, wiping your buttery fingers against the dark leggings covering your thighs.

“I’m coming,” you said exasperatedly. You opened the door, ready to shoo away whoever it was—a salesperson, probably.

Instead, you came face-to-face with Harry.

And now, you’re here—slumped on the couch, angrily shovelling popcorn into your mouth. You keep your gaze trained on the television, trying your hardest to avoid the man who is setting up his “equipment” in the middle of the room.

“Can’t you do this in the kitchen?” you deadpan.

He flicks a switch on his machine—it looks an awful lot like a standard centrifuge. What a fraud.

“Spirit energy’s strongest in here,” he grunts. His knees scuff against the carpeted floor.

A derisive laugh falls from your lips. “Mindy and Gerald aren’t here—you can drop the act.”

Harry glances up at you, his pretty green irises glimmering. “What act?”

You roll your eyes and look away, fixing your attention back on the grainy screen.

Neither of you say anything for the next few minutes; tension builds, saturating the air and making it hard for you to breathe. Eventually, Harry breaks through the awkward silence. You want to scream.

“Er—” he starts, expectant. “Do you mind stepping out for a second? I need the room.”

Your nostrils flare. “Excuse me?”

“I need the—”

“I heard you,” you say, sitting up straight. “You don’t need anything. What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, babe.” His tone is genuine, but you can sense the mirth simmering just beneath the surface. His lips twitch, and your frustration boils like water over a stove.

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest. “And stop playing dumb. Other people might put up with your pseudo-spooky bullshit, but I won’t. Ghosts aren’t real!”

The lights go out.

You gasp, straining your eyes in an attempt to regain your bearings. Slowly, blurry shapes and shadows materialise in front of you. You fumble around for your phone, picking it up and tapping the screen. A moment later, the device’s flash lights up the room. You shine it from side to side, eventually settling on Harry, who is looking up at the ceiling in complete and utter bewilderment.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Done what?” you squawk, glaring at him. “The power went out. Big deal.”

The lights flicker fleetingly, and then the room is dark again. Your eyes drift over to Harry; he’s smirking.

“This isn’t a ghost,” you say stubbornly, waving your phone around. The bright light bounces across the walls before you steady yourself, positioning the beam back on him. He stands, sinking his hands into the deep pockets of his sweatpants.

“And how would you know?” he teases, cocking one eyebrow challengingly.

“Because,” you scoff. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Something crashes to the floor. You yelp in surprise, your head snapping to the right. When you shine your light in the direction of the noise, you find a shattered picture frame lying on the ground.

“What the fuck?” Harry murmurs, advancing toward the mess.

“Careful!” you say, holding up your hand. He stops in his tracks, peering over at you in confusion. “There’s glass, idiot,” you explain, climbing to your feet. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He shoots you a crooked smile. “You do care.”

“I don’t.” Your response is curt. “I just don’t feel like driving you to the hospital so that they can remove fragments from your foot.”

Harry chuckles.

You sigh, squinting at the fallen frame. “We can clean it up when the lights come back on,” you say, mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

He nods and yawns, stretching his arms out above his head. “Suit yourself, babe.”

“The next time you call me that, I’m going to—”

“What?” he asks, padding over to the sofa. You watch him approach with a deep scowl on your face. He collapses onto the couch, slouching and spreading his legs obnoxiously wide. “You gonna beat me up or something?”

You shake your head in disbelief, stepping away from him. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“So you say,” he replies, unbothered.

“You’re so—”

You break off, producing an angry noise in the back of your throat. Harry winks at you; in response, you whip around and storm away, carving out a path from the living room to the kitchen.

You shine the light from your phone across the cupboards, making a beeline for the fridge. When you pull it open, the cold compartment is dark. Squinting, you reach for one of the many water bottles stacked on the top shelf.

Stupid Harry, with his stupid smile and his stupid eyes and his stupid attitude and his stupid bogus business. You can’t believe that Mindy and Gerald were naïve enough to fall for his bullshit. You need to have a long talk with them when they get back, you think—to ensure that they never swallow a pill this big ever again.

“Thirsty?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, pointing your phone toward the kitchen’s exit. Harry is standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You bring one hand up to your sternum, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking your head. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He snickers lowly. You turn your attention back to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and uncapping it quickly. Through the darkness, Harry watches you gulp down the cool liquid; you pretend not to notice.

“Can I help you?” you finally ask, wiping your mouth with the heel of your palm.

“No.” He shrugs. “Just…looking, I guess.”

“That’s creepy,” you reply flatly. He laughs.

“May I steal a bottle?” he says, padding across the tiles. “I’m parched.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I—sure. Whatever.”

And though you try, you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from him. He hums as he opens up the fridge, leaning forward to get a better look inside. You play with the hem of your sweater, standing behind him awkwardly. When he peers over his shoulder, you quickly look away, feigning interest in the marble countertop next to the sink.

“Er—” he starts. He fixes you with an inquisitive look, glancing down at the device in your hand. “Would you mind? I can’t see anything.”

“Don’t you have your own?” you ask.

“Yeah, but you’re already holding yours. Come on.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

You draw nearer, lifting your phone and shining its flash into the fridge. Harry hums, plucking a water bottle off the top shelf with a satisfied smile. When he turns to face you, a puff of air catches in your throat; he’s awfully close, his torso brushing almost imperceptibly against yours.

You stare up at him, stunned. There’s a small mole beneath the left corner of his mouth. Part of you—an insignificant, microscopic part—fights the urge to reach out and run your thumb over the mark.

“I’m sorry for calling you a piece of shit,” you blurt.

He inhales deeply, chest expanding and fitting a bit more firmly against your own.

The contact snaps you out of your trance. You retreat, backing up against the counter to maintain your balance. Harry clears his throat and glances away.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Unable to find the right words, you simply nod.

The two of you stand there for a long moment, sinking into a pool of uncomfortable silence. Just when you think that you’re going to choke on the invisible tension, a faint buzz resonates through the air. Less than a second later, the power returns, illuminating the kitchen in a wash of warm, brilliant light.

“Thank God,” you mutter. You shut the flash on your phone, sliding the device beneath the waistband of your leggings.

Harry blinks rapidly, disoriented. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He waves your question away. “No, it’s—it’s nothing.”

And you don’t really feel like pressing the subject, so you let it go. A tired sigh falls from your mouth as you scan your surroundings.

“Help me find a broom,” you tell him. “We need to sweep up the glass in the other room.”

His lips twitch. “What’s the magic word?”

There he is. The same insufferable man who has been pushing your buttons all week. You scowl, shooting him a displeased glare.

“Forget it.” You drag your fingers down the left side of your face. “I’ll do it myself.”

~*~

“You sure you don’t want my help?” Harry calls, kicking his feet up onto the sofa.

You grunt, crouching next to the shattered glass on the floor. “Positive.”

The broom and dustpan that you’ve acquired from the laundry room are old and frail, but you suppose that they’ll get the job done. You set the dustpan down on the ground, wrapping your fingers around the broom’s handle and trying to maneuver it in an efficient way. It’s no easy feat, but eventually, you manage to create a small, compact pile of shards. Gingerly, you reach for the picture frame, plucking it up from the ground and setting it off to the side. Next, you take your time sweeping all of the fragments into the dustpan, inspecting the floor for any lingering bits.

“Struggling over there?” Harry asks.

You grit your teeth.

“No,” you counter in a matter-of-fact tone. “I think I got it all, actually. No thanks to you.”

You throw the last part over your shoulder, coupling it with an accusatory frown. Harry holds up his hands in surrender, suppressing his amusement.

“Shouldn’t you be exorcising spirits?” you ask. Sarcasm drips from your words.

He chuckles. The couch squeaks as he shuffles around; a moment later, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches your ears. You stiffen when he stops next to your squatted form.

“To be quite honest,” he begins, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’m having a much better time watching you.”

“Creepy,” you say. “Again.”

He laughs, lowering himself to his knees. In the periphery of your vision, you watch him pick up the abandoned picture frame, turning it around and studying the photograph inside. His cheeks lift with the slope of a familiar smile, but somehow, this one is different from the others that you’ve witnessed.

It’s real. Sincere.

“Nice, don’t you think?” Harry asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

He extends his arm, revealing the photograph. Mindy and Gerald’s beaming faces stare up at you, a balance of bright grins and crinkled eyes. Subconsciously, your lips curl upward, and you take the frame from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, running your fingertips over the photo. “They look happy.”

“How long have you known them?” he asks. There’s no malice behind the question.

“Since I moved in,” you say absentmindedly, admiring the ornate frame around the picture. “A few years, now.”

He hums in response. “They talk about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope.” You cast a wry look in his direction.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah. They look out for you, it seems.”

“I try to look out for them, too.” You sit back on your haunches, groaning quietly. “Which is why I was surprised that they didn’t come to me when they first thought their house was ‘haunted’.”

Your intonation changes on the last word; you still don’t believe that your neighbours are being plagued by spirits, despite the plethora of peculiarity that you’ve witnessed tonight.

“Maybe they didn’t want to worry you,” Harry suggests.

You roll your eyes. Even now, he refuses to drop the act.

“Sure,” you say. “So, hiring a spirit exterminator—or whatever you pretend to be—was a better move?” You snort softly, climbing to your feet. “How much are they paying you, anyway?”

He purses his lips. “They’re not.”

You freeze.

A beat of silence drags out, during which you swallow your shock. You clear your throat and lift your chin, staring down at Harry banally.

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“You are!” you insist. A short, incredulous laugh tumbles off your tongue. “You are one hundred percent fucking with me.”

“I’m afraid not,” he says.

“Your truck, though...” you say. “‘Lasting results, or your money back’?”

“I’ve got to make it look legitimate, don’t I?” He smirks. “But it’s cute that you remembered.”

Your eyes lock with his, and suddenly, it’s almost impossible to breathe. His gaze is deep, open, and honest. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Instinctively, your legs carry you a few paces back, veering toward the sofa. You plop down onto the plush cushions, clutching the picture frame tightly between your fingers.

“Then, why—?” you break off, shaking your head. “Why would you—?”

“Peace of mind,” Harry shrugs, still rooted to his spot on the floor. “Ever heard of the placebo effect?”

“You admit it, then,” you say, sitting up straight. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

He nods, blinking languidly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“So,” you start, trying to make sense of the situation, “you let them believe that you’re actually cleansing the house—for free, too—just to—?” You glance around the room, searching for the right words. “—just to put them at ease?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

Sweet. Thoughtful.

“…ridiculous.”

Harry chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I—” You hesitate, depositing the photograph next to you on the couch. “This whole time, I thought you were just…”

“A con?”

You bring your fingers up to your mouth, nodding silently and studying him with big, rounded eyes.

He shrugs.

“I mean, I never really got the chance to explain myself. You’d already made up your mind about me, hadn’t you? So, I thought I’d just let you stick with your assumptions—it didn’t bother me much.”

“I’m a horrible person,” you say, mostly to yourself.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. You’re just a bit judgmental, that’s all.”

“You’re right.” You nod again, bowing your head in shame. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, babe, really.”

You stand abruptly, abandoning your spot on the sofa.

“I should finish up,” you state, embarrassed beyond belief. Harry watches you closely as you approach. You crouch down next to him, reaching for the dustpan with shaky hands. A few small shards of glass are littered at the brink of the collector; you nudge them away from the edge, trying to be as careful as possible.

“Ow!” you suddenly hiss, retracting your arm quickly. You twist your wrist, fixing your attention on a thin cut engraved into the pad of your index finger.

“What happened?” Harry asks, leaning forward.

You shake your head, waving away his worries. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just got nicked, that’s all.”

“Let me see,” he requests, holding out his own hand.

You pause, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and stealing a quick glance at his face. His expression is concerned, but neutral. Your hesitation is silly, you think—he may be a bit of a jackass, but he’s not going to hurt you. You’ve already condemned him once before, and you were wrong.

You don’t want to make that mistake again.

After a brief moment, you give in, sliding your knuckles into his open palm.

“It’s alright, really,” you say, speaking around the lump in your throat. “The piece was tiny—it hardly broke the surface.”

Harry inspects the laceration closely, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s not that serious, you want to tell him, but you refrain from letting the words escape. Part of you is enjoying the way your hands fit together so perfectly. You don’t want it to end—not yet.

“You’re bleeding a bit, babe,” he announces faintly, brows cinched in concentration.

“I am?” You try to tug your arm back, but he keeps a firm grip on your wrist. A low, confused noise echoes in the back of your throat; Harry peers up at you, his features unreadable.

“It’s just a spot,” he murmurs. “Let me.”

And before you can say or do anything else, he’s taking your finger past his lips and giving an easy, gentle suck.

You squeak.

The sound snaps Harry out of his trance; he releases your hand and recoils hastily. You exhale, driving out the stale air gathered in your lungs. When you peek up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s already watching you, shoulders taut with anxiety.

“Sorry,” he stammers. His nostrils flare. “That was weird—sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “Er…thanks.”

“No worries.” He swallows.

“Alright.”

Awkwardly, you wipe your clammy palms against your thighs. Harry seems to be looking at everything except for you; his gaze flits to the ceiling, then to the couch, then to the floor. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and push yourself up off the ground. The room is painfully quiet as you slowly slink back toward to the sofa.

“I should probably put this somewhere safe,” you mumble, picking up the forgotten picture frame.

Warm air floats over the nape of your neck. You gasp and spin around, nearly toppling over in your haste. Harry’s hands find your shoulders, steadying you and crowding you closer to his chest. You glance up at him; your shallow breaths mingle together in the narrow space, noses only inches apart.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice no higher than a gruff whisper. “Tell me. Please.”

In response, you fumble for one of his hands, grappling at his wrist; he loosens his hold on your arms, confused but willing. He’s motionless as you lift his knuckles up to your mouth. You glance down, tilting your head to the side and studying them carefully. Harry says nothing when you press a soft, feathery kiss to the pad of his index finger.

But then you’re dipping the tip of the digit between your lips, and suddenly, he’s undone.

“Fucking—”

He grabs your face in his palms and seals his mouth to yours.

The two of you stagger backward, tumbling onto the couch. Mindy and Gerald’s picture frame slips from your grasp, landing on a neighbouring cushion with a faint thud. Reflexively, your legs part; Harry takes his rightful place between them, slanting his body accordingly. When he applies the faintest hint of pressure, you moan.

“Fuck.” He draws back, his warm breath wafting over your chin. “Don’t.”

“‘Don’t’ what?” you ask, puzzled.

He shakes his head. “Don’t make those noises. It’s—you’re—I’m—”

He curses quietly and reaches for one of your hands. You allow him to guide your palm lower, inhaling sharply when you feel the slight bulge protruding from his trousers. Instinctively, your fingers close over the subtle ridge of his cock. His shoulders stiffen, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“You’re hard,” you murmur, as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Not fully.” He swallows. “But I’m getting there.”

“Because of me?” you ask, peering up at him innocently.

“Yeah.” Harry expels a wobbly, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, babe—because of you.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as the familiar moniker falls from his mouth. He notices your unusual reaction, mouth curling into teasing smirk.

“What?” he says, lifting one eyebrow. “No nagging, this time? I thought you hated that nickname.”

You grip the collar of his sweater and give a gentle tug, guiding him down for another kiss. When the two of you finally break apart, you shrug. “It’s growing on me.”

He smiles.

“Do you—?” you pause, pursing your lips. The question sounds silly—presumptuous, even. Rather than finishing your sentence, you lift your chin, gazing up evenly into Harry’s green eyes and declaring, “I think I want to sleep with you.”

His cheeks dimple with a wide grin. “Is that so?”

You nod.

“Right, then.” He kisses your nose and pulls away. “There’s a condom in my wallet, but…I may or may not have left it in my truck.”

You groan, allowing your head to fall back against the sofa with a heavy thump. Harry chuckles at your theatrics. After a brief moment of contemplation, you compose yourself and sit up quickly.

“That works, actually,” you say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Grab your wallet, and then we can go to my place. I don’t think my neighbours would be very happy if we fucked on their couch.”

He laughs, climbing eagerly to his feet and shooting you a smug wink. “You got it, babe.”

      October 10th, 2021

It’s nearly half past noon when you step out onto the porch the next day. You yawn, squinting up at the sun shining brightly in the sky. There are no clouds in sight; the slight chill of the autumn air tickles your exposed arms. You tug on the waistband of your sweatpants, keeping the material seated firmly on your hips.

“Good morning, dear!”

You jump, head snapping in the direction of a familiar voice. Mindy and Gerald are sitting on their veranda, nursing twin cups of coffee and looking awfully cozy. Gerald smiles at you, folding up his newspaper and setting it on his lap.

“Good morning!” You wave before re-evaluating your words. “Well, it’s technically past twelve, so good afternoon.”

Mindy laughs.

“How was the wedding?” you ask, approaching the side of your deck. You lean against the thin metal railing, combing your fingers through your messy hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back this soon.”

“We woke up early,” Mindy explains. “And the wedding was fabulous. Amy wore the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” You grin. “Do you have any pictures?”

“Of course! Just let me run inside and grab my phone—”

“Mornin’,” a gruff voice says from behind you.

You gasp and spin around, bringing a hand to your chest. The sight laid out before you has your heart speeding up, galloping wildly and battering against the confines of your ribs.

Harry’s wearing that same hoodie from last night. Your gaze trails lower—he’s also sporting a pair of grey boxers and white socks. There’s a mug nestled in each of his large hands, his spindly fingers wrapped around the handles comfortably. Your eyes lock with his sleepy ones, and your breathing hitches in your throat.

“Morning,” you whisper, unable to muster up anything louder.

“I—” Harry clears his throat, stepping closer and extending his left arm. “I, er, took the liberty of making us some tea. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s—” You swallow as you accept one of the mugs, suppressing a giddy smile. “It’s completely fine. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You nod shyly.

He chuckles. “Good.”

His gaze wanders over your shoulder, and it’s then that he notices Mindy and Gerald sat on the neighbouring porch. Without even batting an eye, he lifts his hand in a friendly wave. “Morning, you two. How was the wedding?”

You turn back toward the couple, a sheepish look on your face. Mindy is beaming, and Gerald is trying to hold back a laugh. Heat creeps up your neck; you wish that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“It was wonderful!” Mindy trills. Her enthusiasm has skyrocketed. You pinch the bridge of your nose, utterly mortified.

“Yes.” Gerald finally pipes up, smirking knowingly. “It was great. What about you, though? How was your night?”

“Fine,” you blurt before Harry can respond. “It was fine.”

The duo share a look, and then Mindy giggles girlishly. You bring your mug up to your mouth, taking a long sip and groaning into the cup. Harry’s arm snakes around your waist, making you jump. You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s fighting a smile.

“Well—” Gerald clears his throat, plucking his folded newspaper from his lap and rising to his feet. “I think I’ll be going, now. Need to catch up on those few extra hours of sleep.”

“Me too,” Mindy says, nodding fervently. She directs her next words at you. “If you pop by later, I’ll show you those photos, okay?”

“Okay,” you croak.

She shoots you one last grin before disappearing inside.

“God,” you say immediately, hanging your head. “That was torture.”

Next to you, Harry laughs. You aim a weak swat at his chest. He snickers, catching your palm and ducking down to drop a gentle kiss against your knuckles. You exhale shakily, twisting your body around so that you can face him.

“Your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, running your free hand through his dishevelled curls.

He cocks one eyebrow. “And whose fault is that?”

You scoff. “Shut up.”

He chuckles quietly and steps closer to you, holding out his mug. You smile in assent, mirroring his movements and clinking your cups together.

“So,” Harry starts, sipping his tea casually, “you gonna let me take you out on a proper date, sometime?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to ignore the flurry of butterflies flapping around in your stomach. “I’ll go—but only if we take my car. I refuse to drive around town in your tacky truck.”

“It’s not that bad!” he protests.

“It’s awful,” you tell him, shaking your head. “It looks it was decorated by a preschooler during arts and crafts.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes playfully, giving in. “Any other requests?”

You pause, lost in thought.

“One more, actually,” you say, fixing him with a challenging stare. “You need to come clean to Mindy and Gerald.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Alright.”

“Really?” You balk, taken aback by his compliance. “That’s it? But I—I had a whole speech prepared.”

Harry laughs softly, cradling your face with his free hand and kissing you slowly. Your fingers tighten around your mug. When the two of you break apart for air, he shrugs.

“I started considering it after everything that happened last night. Keep your speech, though.” His lips twitch. “You’ll be needing to scold me again in no time, I’m sure.”

Your shoulders shake with a silent giggle. “You’re probably right.”

“Also—” Harry clears his throat, soothing the ache with another sip of tea. “You may want to suggest that they hire an exterminator.”

“An exterminator?” you repeat, blinking in surprise. “But…they don’t have rats. Gerald said that the traps hadn’t been touched.”

“Not rats,” he hums. “Squirrels, I believe. Living in the walls.”

“And how did you reach that conclusion?”

“I’ve been doing this for a while, babe—I’ve seen my fair share of pests. Plus,” he clucks his tongue, “they like to chew on wires.”

“Really?” You sigh distantly, pinching your bottom lip. “God, that sucks.”

“It does.” He nods, wrapping his fingers around your forearm. “But you can tell them later.”

“Later?” you say, brows knitting together. “Why not right now?”

“Because,” Harry grunts. You squeal when he crowds you up against your front door. He cups your jaw and tilts your chin up with his thumb, handsome face splitting into an easy, salacious grin.

“Right now, I’m taking you back to bed.”

~*~

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! and as always, don’t forget to share your thoughts. thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #spookrry #harry writing #ok here it is 🙃 i lowkey feel like its gonna flop but w/e

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Anniversary Drabble: i miss u like ... a lot (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first! but this drabble can be read alone

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: One night until Taehyung is back from his boys’ trip but you miss him too much.

Genre: fluff, smut, kinda crack?, boyfriend/established relationship au

Warnings: unprotected sex (oc on contraception so don’t u do it), teasing over the phone, riding and grinding, just kinda vanilla i-missed-u-so-much sex, a particular selca

Word count: 5k

A/N: It was Heatwave’s one year anniversay on the 17th so I decided to write a quick(?) drabble for this. I fully intended on posting this on time, but wanted to change up some stuff so only managed to finish this now. Happy birthday to my first fic and forver my baby!

MOSTLY UNEDITED

.

The absolute one thing you hate most about your boyfriend being away from you is your boyfriend being away from you.

You have never been the clingy needy type, that is more his role in this relationship, nor are you really one to show affection. In fact, you would hate for that false image to be perceived of you because all that sappy shit makes you want to throw up your dinner. But one thing you’ve learnt since Taehyung had gone away on a week-long boys’ trip down by the coast is how cold the house feels in his absence, despite being in the middle of a sizzling summer.

Everything is so eerily quiet without his random outbursts into song and fits of laughter. Having spent 3 years living together, you have gotten so used to his constant presence that you had even caught yourself several times calling out for him only to remember that he isn’t here. Waking up without his arm draped around your waist, slided up your top at some point during the night, impacts you more than you’d like to admit.

Are you glad that he’s having a great time with his friends by the beach, relaxing all day and drinking all night? Of course. Are you having a great time all by yourself over here in the absence of your boyfriend? Certainly not.

Though, of course, this isn’t something you would confess to out loud, especially to him. He doesn’t need to know how often the thought: ugh fuck, I miss Tete is crossing your mind, lest you want him to rub his smugness in your face.

It isn’t just that. Your relationship hasn’t been without its tests in the course of its years and things have only finally stabilised. It’s not that you don’t trust Taehyung to be with his ladish friends for seven days, shirtless dusk till dawn, intoxicated to the point where he calls you thinking that you’re the pizza delivery guy but…

A hammered Taehyung at a beach full of girls who are no doubt thirsting over him leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You trust him to be loyal to his core, but you don’t trust anyone else to keep their hands from copping a feel. No matter how you look at it, you would just so much rather he be at home with you right now.

You have endured this for six days. Six full days without Taehyung. Six full days with no sex, no tummy kisses, no clammy hand holding even though you’re only to get groceries. Just one more night and this torture will fucking be over, praise the lord. But you also don’t know how much more you can hold back that I miss you text because you’re combusting from the need to see him again.

It’s almost 4am. Your sleep schedule is fucked and it’s really his fault.

The bright screen of your phone offers the only luminescence at this hour. Your messages from him in the past week have not been shy of your daily dose of Taehyung - clips of the beach (always mischievously caption with something along the lines of “thinking of Mykonos ;D” where you went on your first holiday together), selfies that you dwell way too long staring at because you miss that face buried in your neck, drunk videos of the antics him and the boys get up to that you’ll definitely chastise him for when he comes back yet can’t help but laugh at. You find yourself scrolling through them every single night.

Your personal favourite: a pouty selfie he sent you after he dropped his ice cream, the picture you always go back to and the one you’re staring at right now. His hair is frizzy from the sea, lips jutted out childishly and cheeks puffy. Your chest constricts, fuck...

Just one more night, you remind yourself. And then he’s back and all yours again.

Then suddenly, the phone in your hand vibrates, short and abrupt. The bar slides down from the top of your screen reading New Message from Tete. Surprised, you scramble to open it, maybe a bit too desperately for you to be proud of.

04:11

Tete: bby

You blink at those three letters, lips pressed together because your heart is cinching.

Tete: ur prob aslep rn but

Tete: i missu

Tete: <334

The typos indicate that he is wasted, and you take a guess that he has just returned from their last night out of the holiday. The corners of your lips turn up knowing that he is thinking of you right now.

You: no im awake

Your fingers are itching to reply with i miss u too, and it takes all your willpower and stubbornness to stay true to your steadfast self. There is just something so unpleasantly moist about these kinds of texts, something that makes you cringe and gag when you read them. You refuse to be one of those people. A heart is all that you allow yourself to reply.

You: <3

You: r u drunk?

Tete: drunk in love

Tete: yes

A giggle escapes you at his god awful cheesiness - drunk, sober alike. Insufferable. But probably Taehyung’s most endearing quality.

You: did u have fun!!

Tete: yeah

Tete: but i miss u

Tete: more than i had fun

God, you feel like a teenager again, suddenly overcome with this gushing urge to roll over and scream into your pillow. You’re glad he’s merely texting this to you right now because if he had said this to you face to face, your skin would most definitely stain scarlet from neck to hairline, scalding to the touch. Even months into officially being his girlfriend, these curveballs of overwhelming affection throw you off guard.

Again, the compulsion to tell him you miss him too yanks at your heartstrings. You truly don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to say how you feel, let yourself be soft and vulnerable. You know it’s one of your flaws so it’s something that you’re working on, but you can’t say you’ve made much progress.

But just as you decide that maybe you should take the plunge, suck it up and just text him those three words, he sends you a picture.

Tete:

No, not just a picture. A selfie, of him in bed, shirtless under the covers. “Oh, fuck…”

Hand clasped over your mouth to prevent any sound from involuntarily escaping, it takes a moment for your breath to return to you and for you to stop gawking. At this hour… Really? Is he seriously doing this to you right now?

His sleepy eyes. His messy curls. And his fucking nose mole.

The undoing of your existence.

Tete: this boy misses u :]

You: bruh

You: bruhhhhhhh

You: taehyung

Tete: oui my lady :))

You: 👁👄👁

You: can u not do this to my heart

You: y did u send me this </333

You: what was the reason

Tete: coz i miss u

Tete: do u like it

Tete: :D

‘Do u like it’... Actually, you have tears in your eyes, albeit mostly due to staring at a screen for too long so late at night, but it’s certainly contributed by this selfie. You tell yourself you’re acting out because it’s been six days since you last saw him. Perhaps Taehyung Withdrawal Symptoms is the explanation behind why you want to print and frame this picture because that is definitely not a normal reaction to a picture. But this is a masterpiece.

You: taehyung my soul left my body

You: like i could weep

You: u look so soft and fluffy

You: :’(

Tete: lollll

Tete: simp

This boy has some nerve?! Simp! He called you a simp?! Laughing like a maniac, you can’t even pretend to be mad at him, not after this picture he sent anyway. So you guess you are a simp. This selfie is your kryptonite.

Tete: jkjkkkkk

You: hahahaha

You: y r u doing this to me

You: its 4am

You: u can’t send me this rn

You: i won’t be able to sleep

Tete: o yeah how come ur still up?

Tete: go to sleepppp

You: can’t sleep

Tete: aw no whyyy

Because you miss him that’s why.

You miss Kim Taehyung. You miss Tete. You miss your boyfriend, your best friend, your other half. You miss his touch, his smile, his wide eyes when he’s confused. You miss his morning snuggles and late night kisses. You miss the way he hugs you from behind as you prepare your meals. You miss the wandering hands that he can’t help when you’re out in public. You miss playing PUBG together until the sun comes out then both sleeping past noon. You miss taking baths together where bubbles would get into your mouth as your kisses get heated.

You just miss him.

It’s only been six days and you’re in this state. What has he done to you?

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you let out a great sigh and deflate. No other reason offers itself for you to be awake at this hour; he knows you cherish sleep above anything. Teeth digging into your lip, you inhale long and hard, then exhale the gust of your cowardice. It’s not that deep, stupid. Fuck it.

You: coz

You: i miss u

You: like … a lot

You: 🙄

It’s final - you guess you’ve become a mushy wet sap. Truly it is embarrassing how big of a step this is for you; but the sense of pride and accomplishment feels oddly validating. Baby steps. The eye-rolling emoji right after is subconscious because you could only betray the core of your character that much. Forgo it and taehyung might not believe that it’s you.

Tete: omg

Tete: :D

Tete: rrly?

You: *blank kissy emoji*

Tete: wow

Tete: u actually don’t know how hard i’m smiling rn

You: simp

Tete: ofc that’s my middle name

Tete: i miss u a lot too

Tete: like a lotttttt

Tete: i’ll show u how much when i’m back

Ah… Of course, the Taehyung specialty - smothering you with his affection. You freeze at the thought of his wildfire kisses and head between your thighs. Nothing screams of how much you’ve missed each other more than a good dicking down, climax after climax until you’re both panting messes of sweat and entangled limbs. The anticipation makes you squirm under the sheets, legs pressing together.

You: pls do

You: i need u

It’s uncertain what spirit has possessed you at this ungodly hour for these words to come out of you. There’s an instant flash of ickiness, but you let the self-cringing simmer and dissipate into the realisation that this is okay, this is normal. Taehyung’s your boyfriend, couples text like this. You need to grow some.

Tete: fuck baby

Tete: i’m so not used to u texting like this, it's driving me crazy

You: crazy how *cat smirk*

If you weren’t smiling before, you’re definitely grinning like an idiot now. His reaction is predictable, yet oddly still, an incredible wave of satisfaction hits you. And because you want to savour this moment, maybe give him a taste of his own medicine, you send him a picture of yourself.

Camisole strap slid off your shoulder, hair splayed out, bottom lip deep red from biting down on it too much. Just to return the favour.

Tete: y/n

Tete: call me now

-Incoming call from Tete-

Laughing to yourself, you wait a good few seconds before picking up to prolong his torture. “Yes, Taehyung?” You put your thumb between your teeth to suppress the laughter.

“Fuck.” Against the silence of the night, the low rasp of his voice permeating into you from the speaker of your phone sends tingles up your toes. You’ve fucking missed his voice more than you thought. “Y/N… You can’t do this to me.”

“I told you, I miss you. Like… a lot.” The saccharine tone in your reply is foreign to your own ears, but you like the sound of it and the deep rumble it elicits from your boyfriend.

“How much?” Taehyung eggs you on. His words are barely slurred, so you gather that he has sobered up at least for the most part by now. Yet there is still a slowness to it that suggests

“Hmm, like… I touched myself every night at the thought of you a lot.”

A sharp inhale. Then silence. But you know better so you give him a moment to gather himself.

“You shouldn’t be putting that image in my head.” Exasperation is evident in his voice, desperate and yearning. You can imagine him now, one hand on his phone, the other sliding over his pants that are getting a bit too tight for comfort. Your breath hitches.

“Then you shouldn’t have sent me that picture, Taehyung…”

“You said it was soft and fluffy. What you sent me back was not soft and fluffy.”

“Just because it’s soft doesn’t mean it doesn’t turn me on. You do things to me… okay?” Heat trapped beneath the skin of your cheeks, your grip on the phone against your ear slackening as your thighs rub together.

“Fuck, I’m getting hard, baby…” Nothing gets him going more than the knowledge that he turns you on, it’s his weakness but somewhat his strength.

“That’s… unfortunate. Are you going to do something about it?”

His gulp is audible even over the phone. “Uh…” A sigh. “Um. Maybe. Thoughts are being thought.”

“What kind of thoughts? Thoughts about me touching myself and moaning your name? Thoughts about how much I wish my fingers were your cock thrusting so deep into me that I feel it in my guts? Or are you thinking about what you’ll do to me when you’re back tomorrow? Fucking my mouth until I’m crying or filling me up with your cum first?” Your hips buckle at the filth leaving your mouth. This is more like you; you haven’t abandoned your nature after all.

“Oh, fuckkkk.” His moan resonates into your skull, not quite as if he’s here with you but good enough to fill your desire. “Y/N… I need you so badly.” Breath ragged, you hear movement of his sheets in the background as he adjusts into a more comfortable position.

“Are you stroking your cock right now?” A warm slick oozes out of your own entrance. There’s something about Taehyung masturbating to you that elevates you to a different kind of high.

“What do you think, baby?” As you listen closely, you hear the slow rhythm of his pumping, and your fingers ache to pleasure yourself. ‘The things I’ll fucking do to you when I’m back.”

“Mmm, but it’s late, Taehyung, why don’t we go to sleep.”

“Wait, what?” The stroking stops instantly and surprise in his voice releases a smug satisfaction into your veins. The equivalent of pouring a bucket of ice water over his head right now. Teasing is an old undying habit, what can you say? “You wanna end the call now?”

“Yeah, we should sleep, babe.” Grin unsuppressed, you turn over onto your side, probably a bit too pleased with yourself at your success. Taehyung is an easy victim always.

“What the fuckkk?” Your boyfriend groans. “You’re seriously going to tease me this hard then leave me high and dry?” When you offer no more response than a sly chuckle, he add, “You’re so evil.”

“Save it for tomorrow, Taehyung. Think about it, we’re one sleep away from seeing each other again.”

“Fuck, I know. But you just got me so fucking horny, bruhhh. I thought we were gonna have phone sex.” You are still laughing at his whining, basking in the victory you’re holding over him.

“Taehyung, save it for the real sex.” The idea of phone sex crossed your mind several times to be honest, but you really want to collect every single drop of desire and longing and unleash it tomorrow. Raw and pent up. Nothing to dampen the fire.

A sigh of defeat down the line. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know?” You know. “How am I supposed to sleep now though? I’m so rock hard that it hurts.”

“You can figure that out yourself, big guy.” Your cheeks ache from smiling for too long; they often do during calls with him. “One sleep away, okay?”

“Ugh, fine, you demon. I can’t believe you sometimes.” He lets out another sigh. Your heart skips at the anticipation of how he will punish you for this. “Good night, I miss you.”

“Good night, I miss you more.” There’s a sudden change of tone with these words. Because you truly mean it. Sex and physical intimacy aside, you really just missed his voice, his banter.

You fall asleep almost immediately.

.

You don’t think you’ve heard a sweeter sound than the keys rattling at the door the next day. Practically leaping off the couch where you had been awaiting him in your Taeyhyung-less boredom, you run to the door.

As it swings open, heat courses to your chest when your eyes land on his, so full of comfort. Your boyfriend is home. Handsome as ever, much more tanned than your memory of him and much more attractive. White t-shirt and loose black shorts, a mundane outfit that only he could make look exceptional.

And as much as you want to sprint up and throw yourself onto him, your feet stay planted on the floor.

“Hey.” You barely breathe out.

Stay calm and composed, you tell yourself. It was only one week without him, it’s not like he’s returning from war.

But Taehyung doesn’t even reply, because in two long strides he is standing before you, bags tossed to the side, a sign of their insignificance in the presence of you. His arms find their home circled around you, face buried in your hair before you can utter another word. You don’t hesitate to return his embrace, holding his waist as you let yourself fall into his chest. He smells like what summer should, the ocean, sweat and young love; his familiar musk greeting you as if he never left.

Your lips meet his, strong and full of intent. He’s so unexpectedly soft when he kisses back, a timeless romantic dance like he is saviour your taste on his tongue.

With your weight leaning on him, he slowly topples back, stepping hastily until your bodies land on the couch. You fit your legs on either side of him as you burrow your nose in his neck and breathe him in, memorise him. In nothing but a large shirt, your bare thighs are exposed for his roaming.

When you pull away and face each other, you are struck by his beauty. His skin is sun-kissed and glowing, hair an effortlessly beautiful mess, the slightest hint of a stubble peeking through below his nose. Your heart belongs to him forever, you know it without a doubt.

“You smell so good. I missed you so much, baby.” And his voice… That deep baritone honey that you have taken for granted all this time - music to your ears.

“Imissedyoutoo…” You mumble, shy under his undivided attention and mercilessly unbroken eye contact.

With your chests pressed together, his chuckle rumbles into you. “What was that?”

“I missed you too… I guess.” Face flaming, you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at your admittance, fingers twirling around his curls to preoccupy yourself.

But he cups your chin and turns your face to him, forehead pressing up to yours until your noses are touching, breaths mixing. “That’s not what you said last night.” Taehyung smirks, hands sliding down to your waist, the material of your shirt bunching up in his hands. “Do I need to remind you?”

“No…” You find yourself unable to keep your eyes open, your core pulsing mercilessly as you grind onto him. “How are you already hard, Taehyung…” And though you mean to scold him, it comes out breathless.

Lips hovering, he traces the edge of your jaw, tingling the sensitive little hairs on its way to your ear. When he reaches the shell of your ear, warm breath infiltrating so relentlessly into you, you almost lose yourself right there on his lap. “Don’t you know how much I love you?” He whispers.

“Show me.” Is all you make out.

His hands are already beneath your shirt before you even notice, palms kneading into your breasts as he takes your nipples between his two fingers and rolls. As he kisses you again, the same tenderness exchanges between your lips. It’s a different kind of desperation to be so slow and gentle, one that means so much more than sex, one that’s telling of how much you truly missed each other. Your hips roll with a mind of their own over him. One hand of his comes down to your ass, guiding the waves of your rocking. And each time his stiff clothed member digs into your clit, you whimper into his mouth.

Carefully, Taehyung rolls you over onto your back, sucking your bottom lip to keep the seal from breaking. He pulls away when he’s on top of you, and a string of glistening saliva bridges between your mouths. “Foreplay or no? Tell me what you want?” Compliant as ever.

“I need you to fill me up right now. Anything else can wait.” You watch the devotion ignite in his eyes. His fingers are in a hurry as they pull your panties off, knees spreading your legs open as he kneels between your gaping entrance. He tugs his shirt off from the collar, such smoothness in his action that your insides coil up. His newly-bronzed rich skin revealed, you can’t help but reach up and run your hands down from chest to navel, revelling in his blemishless ridges.

A low sound reverberates from the back of Taehyung’s throat as your touch travels down to unbutton his shorts. They fall loose. His hard throbbing members springs free, a glistening bead oozing from his slit. “You didn’t wear boxers?”

When you glance up, you notice his sheepish grin. He presses his mouth onto yours, still smiling, guiding you back onto your back. “I just couldn’t wait.” Taehyung whispers. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, especially since last night… Ah, fuck.” Another deep groan erupts from him as you reach down and slather that bead of precum all over his tip. His head falls onto your neck, writhing under your merciless stroking.

His tip brushing against your clit, your toes curls at the teasing of your weakness, hips jolting up involuntarily and perhaps a bit too violently. You’re so embarrassingly sensitive after this many days without Taehyung, and he notices from your breathless reaction. Smirking, he takes his shaft in his hand and runs his stiff head over your clit mercilessly. And as you roll your head back helplessly, he nibbles onto your exposed neck, faint stubble grazing your skin.

“Quit the teasing…” You whine, unable to withstand the build up of twisting pressure begging to be fulfilled between your legs. “Just put-”

Taehyung pushes himself into you so abruptly that you yelp. And there it is, that mind-melting stretch of your walls that you’ve so much missed. “Fuck, Taehyung…” Your entire core feels ablaze, so numbing that your nails dig into the leather of the couch before they find grip on his arms.

“Like that, baby?” His voice his strained, as if he’s struggling not to lose his mind as well.

Nodding because you can’t make out a word as he slowly pulls out, you grab his face and pull him up to meet your lips. You whimper into him mouth when he rams into you again, hitting your walls in full force, no mercy. His kiss doesn’t lose its sincerity despite the juxtaposition of his vigorous thrusts, though you can’t say that he is quite as gentle with as before. You pinch his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking on it as your fingers get lost in his hair.

After seven days of deprevation of his cock, your cunt is leaking with the fluid of your arousal, aiding in the ease of each plunge. You feel the stiffness of his ridges pulling you open as he slides in and out of you. “Fuck…” He pants, mouth hovering over yours.

“Let me get on top.” Taehyung’s eyes flash at your suggestion, instantly rolling onto his back. He slips out during the switch of position and the wetness of your cunt is assailed by a sudden rush of cool air.

You swing your leg over and mount him, watching him watch you pump his dick, your own liquid slathered over him sticky in your hand. Letting his member fall against his abdomen, you grind over him between your folds, hands splayed out over his chest. The friction created each time your clit would slide over the thin pinch of skin where his tip unfolded into his shaft has Taehyung a groaning mess.

He looks remarkable under you.

You push his sweat-dampened curls out of his forehead, eyes half closed in euphoria, half watching you roll your cunt so lewdly over his length. You know you could make him cum like this if you continue. But you want him to cum inside you first, you want to feel that thick hot spurt of his desire shoot again and again into you until his cock is twitching.

So slowly, lubricated by your wetness, you sink inch by inch down until the skin of your ass meets his thighs. This angle fuck with your mind; you think you feel him at your cervix. Then your hips start to do what they know best, pounding over him with a rhythm that you’re proud of.

Taehyung grabs hold of your waist, your breasts, fury in his eyes as he watches you ride him with such determination. “I love you so much.” He heaves between heavy breaths.

“I love you, I missed you more than you could imagine.” You huff, thumb running over his red swollen lips.

“I love when you admit it.” He sits up and takes the swell of your breast in his mouth, making his way to your nipples where his tongue relentlessly flickers over.

Your thighs are starting to burn, core aching because his cock is thrusting up into you so deep that you feel it in your guts. The signs are appearing - your vision is going hazy, walls squeezing tightly around him, tangle upon tangles knoting in your stomach. His are too - his head is slumped against your chest, arms crossed behind your back as he holds you close to him, whole body starting to tense as he begins to curse.

Pace quickening, you don’t let the tire of your muscles stop you from your chase. The slap of your skins ringing in your ears, you keep riding, cunt swallowing his cock whole each bounce. Taehyung breaks first. “Fuck!” He calls out into your neck. His cum squirts into you, pulse after pulse, your boyfriend’s hips jolting each thrust.

“I’m so close, babe, keep going for me.” You plead, knowing how sensitive he is right after his climax. He nods wordlessly, face still buried in you hair. The lubrication of his cum abolishes any resistance, letting you slide over him easier than sitting down. And not five thrusts later, your own coil snaps. You through your head back at the wave of pleasure that drowns you, your entire core on fire as your moans echo through the room. It takes maybe twenty seconds for your walls to stop throbbing and for the orgasm to slowly die down.

Taehyung is already growing limp inside you after his orgasm. “Thank you.” You whisper against his forehead while you dismount. His cum flows out of your slit and down the insides of your thighs, but he refuses to let go of you.

When he looks up, you are struck by an overwhelming sensationf of adoration. His long dark curls fall slightly over his eyes, in disarray but just the way you like it. His eyes are so full of genuine love and gratitude of having you that you can’t help but capture him with your lips. “No, thank you.” He mumbles against you, falling back onto the couch with you in his embrace.

After a long kiss of after-sex affection, you pull away before it leads to a second round. “I want you to know that I really missed you a lot. I can’t even call you a big baby anymore because I stared at all the pictures you sent me every night till the sun came out.”

Taehyung’s boyish smile melts your heart. You’ve missed him way too much. His smile, his goofy comments, his tender kisses. “My heart… is squeezing…” If his smile doesn’t tell how smitten he is, his eyes definitely do. “I missed you so much too. All the boys made fun of me for being such a wettie ‘coz I couldn’t shut up about you.” The thought is so endearing that you can’t help but hide your face.

“So how was your trip? Plenty of hot girls drooling after you?” Trick question of course, you know that for a fact already.

“Haha, it was good, fun. Bet you couldn’t sleep ‘coz you were trembling from jealousy.” Scoffing you land a smack on his chest. “But nah, no hot girls. Nowadays there’s only one hot girl in my eyes.”

Your own lips spread like a cheshire cat. “Shut up, cutie.”

“Rachel McAdams.”

“Let go of me. Don’t even touch me.”

.

A/N: Moral of the story, never sit on their couch if you’re a guest at the Heatwave house.

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24/08/20

© Copyright 2020

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[shadowturtlesstuff]

Enchanted

finally finished this!!! im so happy with it, and will be writing it in thomas’s pov as soon as possible and perhaps part 2? 

Sleep evades me. My mind keeps returning to last night, specifically to a certain person I had met last night. I pull the covers higher, burying my head as I finally gave into my wandering mind.

~

I stand alone, needing a break from my aunt Amelia. The music was beautiful, a soft sound that filled the entire room. The party itself was decorated in a magical way, the columns in the building encompassed in vines, the tables with floral centrepieces. It was a mixture of whimsy and magic, yet no one seemed happy to be here. Everyone I spoke to was forcing smiles, men faked laughter as they believed this was not a party but a way to make business deals and enforce their own reputation. It was absurd how no one was just admiring the effort people put into making this perfect. It was the same every month, I'd walk to the edge of the room and watch. To calm my nerves, to explore the different flower pieces, the musicians and the flickering candles from the chandelier. The gowns women wore only once to try and show their wealth, whilst I tended to wear the same, as it fit the magical atmosphere this room desperately tried to make people see, yet they were too blind by their greed, the need to prove themselves to everyone to just simply stand back and enjoy themselves.

My cousin Liza seemed to be in conversation with Dacina, the host of the party, someone I had spoken to a few times, each being more enjoyable. Her calming demeanour and charm always lifted my spirits. Her family organizes this ball once a month, her father hates it but makes a lot of business so it is always left to her to plan and design it. With the help of Illeana and lots of their servants they always make this place ethereal. Her brother, Thomas Cresswell, only ever shows up for a few hours then leaves, only being able to handle the faking niceties for so long. Dacina told me of his tolerance, or lack thereof, to society. She speaks highly of her brother, as I once did, yet I have never met Mr.Cresswell. 

The varnished wooden floor slowly gathers marks as couples danced. How I longed to be one of those dancers, being swivelled by someone I loved. They would look at me as if I was the most magical thing in the room, with a soft smile and adoration in every word he whispers to me. I would be his equal as we spun around, the world fading into nothing as we held each other. Alas, those dreams are not likely for someone cruel enough to carve the dead. 

I snap out of my fantasy as a group of older men walk towards the buffet near me. They talk loud enough so everyone can hear, shockingly talking about work. I roll my eyes at them and look away back to the dance floor. The lights above cast shadows, making the scene feel like my imagination as I sit by a fireplace to read a romance novel. If this was a novel, there would be my love interest here, watching and finding the courage to say something. There are families at the table, children clinging to mothers as the men sit and discuss whatever. My father, uncle and aunt sit together in a seemingly civil conversation. I look for Liza again, deciding I should probably stop brooding in the corner but as I look for her my attention keeps going back to the men at the buffet. Not by choice, but by their obnoxious decision to shout their conversation. 

“A woman led the strike, ridiculous, she had to go,” I heard an oldish man say, followed by murmurs of agreement, “these strikes are out of hand, demanding we pay more, absurd notions.” The man is none other than Mr. Birling, a notoriously cold hearted man, much like dacianas father apparently, both of whom value money rather than people. Even their own families. The group of men who looked the same as him, slightly wrinkled face, greyish hair, miserable faces with hints of conniving schemes being plotted against each other. Friends until one of them was earning more money and was more successful, then they were enemies again. 

The men were in a heated discussion about their business and from what I can dissect from their ramblings is that they fully believe themselves to be hard working men, a rarity these days, and they must do what is necessary for their companies. Meaning, budget cuts, strikes from workers, firing people, and any horrible decision in the name of money.  I refrain from rolling my eyes, or going over to berate them. 

“Mr. Birling would not know what a hard day's work is.” someone says quietly behind me. His voice is smooth, confident, and whilst I agree due to what I have learnt about the birling family and the conversation I had just overheard, I still wouldn't say it aloud with him being this close. Not that he pays any attention to anyone but ‘hard working men’. 

I turn my head slightly, the man behind me is tall, a smirk playing at his lips. His suit is finely tailored in a dark grey, with a peach tie. He takes a step forwards and stands at my side, staring out into the crowd, a glass of half drunk champagne in his hand. I return my gaze to the crowd. “Whatever makes you think that, surely you heard him talk about how much he works,” I try to suppress my own smirk and I also sneak a glance at the strange man. He merely takes a sip of his champagne. 

“Right of course, his words, I shall listen more closely next time.”

“As you should. You wouldn't want to misinterpret someone's work ethic and make a fool of yourself in front of a stranger.” 

“You consider me a fool now?” he turns to me now, hands pressed against his chest in fake offence. His brown eyes meet mine as I face him. His sharp cheekbones feel familiar, but I can't place where from. 

“Yes. how could you consider someone such as Mr Birling, a man with such talent and tolerance of others, a man who clearly built his company and was not handed it by his father, how could you with a straight face imply he doesn’t know hard work.”  we stare at each other for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. He has such a pure laugh, we seem to be the only sound in the room. People around us stop and stare, upset two people are having fun at a party. The stranger leans against one of the columns, disrupting the vines slightly. Yet he doesn't seem to care, as he slowly starts to regain his composure from our outburst. 

Mr. Birling is one of the men looking at us with full disdain. He perceives us as two kids who do not understand life, he specifically tells his accountant that there is something wrong with us if the rumours are to be believed. Children of science. Outrageous. Especially a girl. A girl, not a woman. I ignore his pathetic whining, intent on not letting him ruin my night and return my focus to the stranger. Who, I realise, is someone who enjoys science. His face is more solemn now, having also overheard Mr.Birling. He quickly recovers and plasters a smirk on his face, a spark shines in his eye and I can already tell this won't be good.

“I want to meet this ‘girl’ who led the strike, perhaps she could use some help. I mean, all they ask is fair pay,”

“But fair pay is absurd. Completely and utterly absurd. Why should the wealthy share their wealth to those who ensure it.” he finishes for me. The men that run this world will end up being the reason it fails. We share a look, full of understanding and he lets out a sigh. Now we're talking about work and politics at a party. 

“Aside from those charming men, how are you enjoying the party?” He gestures to the men around us and I snort. Charming was one word for them. Being with him and trading remarks felt like passing notes to each other, telling secrets during class even though we are meant to be listening to the teacher. I can't help but think I know him, and by the look in his own face he knows me. Perhaps we met but didn't have time for a full conversation like we are now. 

“Mostly entertaining, the place is spectacular as always, the people are..” I searched for a word to describe the people, as well as my family. I love them dearly but they can be insufferable. “An interesting mix. My family is dramatic, so I escaped to the edge to peace and quiet, which apparently isn't possible. "I give him a pointed look but he takes no notice. 

“My family is also dramatic, and I came for peace myself but found myself captivated by you, specifically how you watched the crowd, listening, and how you curled your fists in an attempt not to go and publicly humiliate the poor man. Which, by the way, I think you should've. Would've made the whole thing worth it.” He takes a sip of his champagne and I nearly roll my eyes at him. Of course he'd want that. From what I can tell he isn't someone who enjoys society and has no problem saying it. I also think about the families in attendance and which of those are dramatic. The only person I can think of is Darci's brother, whom I've not met but heard about his nature over wine with her. 

“If I was merely standing here minding my business would you still have found me captivating enough to talk to me? Or is my appeal in my anger?”

He downs the rest of the drink and straightens himself taking a step towards me. I cross my arms, impatient but he gives me a soft smile. “I've been trying to get the courage to talk to you for months, I always see you here at the edge, always. My eyes find you instantly in any crowd. Transfixed, captivating. It was an added bonus to me when I saw the fierce nature in your eyes up close, I knew I was right to want to befriend you.” 

Silence falls as we both take in his words. I feel bad, not being able to figure out who he is. His honesty is admirable and makes me smile, as well as blush. I can feel heat rise to my cheeks. Just as I begin to rectify the situation by asking for his name, a man comes behind 

me, he’s around 40 probably, and looks at me horrendously in an attempt at a smile. I recognised him from earlier, he's one of the men that spoke with Mr Birling and that alone makes me instantly want to recoil. 

“Can I help you sir?” I asked and I can hear my own clipped words, yet somehow he does not. The smile widens and he looks me up and down. Then he offers his hand to me and I realise he wants to dance. With a woman half his age, that he has never met. 

“Miss Wadsworth, dance with me?” more of a common than a question. Since I am already highly aware he doesn’t like when females have opinions or say no, I refrain from rolling my eyes and just walking off from him. Instead I take a step back, so I'm by my new friend’s side and smile widely. 

“I'm afraid I already promised the darling Wadsworth a dance, we are just finishing our drinks first.” As if to prove my point he drinks the last of his drink, mostly to hide his smirk. Something else the man doesn't seem to notice. His face drops, but his pride makes him believe he can stand there, waiting for me to run to him. There is an awkward silence until I feel hands reach down and take mine, they are warm and make me jump slightly at the contact. Not in a bad way, not in the way I would have if it had been the man in front of me with his gaze like fire as he looks at our joined hands as though he has a right to be mad about it. I feel my own fire burn as he stares, so I tug his hand away from the man. I need to just escape into the dreamlike nature of the dancefloor, as well as thank my saviour and learn his name.

He leads me to the dance floor, nearer the edge and his hands slip down to my waist as I find his shoulders. His touch is hesitant but reassuring. Somehow he looks calm and terrified, as though he never expected to dance with me but never wants to stop. I can't help but feel the same as we begin to move. My skirt swirls around us and we say nothing for a while as we both calm ourselves and let the music envelope us. In a way, this is as close to my daydreaming as I might ever get. Being here on the dance floor with someone who isn't twice my age and the definition of misogyny. We dance as equals, neither of us truly leading but letting each other float around each other. We're sure of our movements and demand nothing from each other. It is a weird calmness that settles. We are strangers as far as i know, and yet we dance as though we have known each other our entire lives. 

“You are a delight, miss Wadsworth.” he breaks the silence, somehow louder than the music for me, yet it's quiet. Almost like he didn't mean to say it aloud. 

“How do you know me?” my voice matches and i feel bad asking, but i need to know. My tone is not accusing, and his face only burrows in confusion for a second before he smirks at me. A smirk I'm seeming to become familiar with.

“My sister Dacina speaks highly of you.” my eyes must expand as he laughs softly. That's why I recognized him. He has the same structure as Dacina, sharp cheekbone and soft skin. Perfect complexion. 

“So you are the infamous Thomas cresswell?” this time I smirk and his eyes widen. 

“Infamous? What on earth have you heard of me?”

“Your sister has lots of opinions on you.”

“Of course she does. Whatever she has said is most likely not true.” He blurts out and I laugh at his relationship with his sister and him wanting to impress me. “Unless she told you I am utterly irresistible, charming, quick witted and incredibly smart.” winking at me he sends me into a surprising spin and my hands land on his chest. We've sped up slightly, yet our heartbeats are both faster than necessary and I can see a hint of a blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

“She did mention you have an overly large ego. She'll be happy to know I agree with her.” I feel his hands tighten at my waist slightly and I watch his curls fall down in his face as he shakes his head. I'm delighted by this turn of events. Daci is wonderful, and if this is the Thomas that I get to see, not his reputation, then I shall try and keep this in my life for as long as possible. His spark in his eyes shows how he may think the same. Also, if daci, liza and ileana are with Thomas, then i might have the most fun I've ever had in my life.

His voice slides through my thoughts, but also reinforces them. “I am sure she failed to mention how big of an ego she has. Honestly, Darci is worse than I. Have you met Illeana? She will surely agree with me on this.” 

“I'm sure she would, I've also heard you are a scientist, what do you study?”

“The dead. Much like you and your uncle.” There is so much certainty in his voice, no resentment or the usual tone I hear so I gift him an earnest smile. 

The song ends, and we stand, hands still on each other for a second longer than we should. Just as I go to remove my hands from his chest I feel him pinch my sides lightly. Then his warm hands slip from my waist and I wish more than anything to dance again. 

We go to return back to the column near the buffet, where we first spoke, and as I take a step I feel him move so he's pressed at my back, his hands finding mine. Even though we are gloved, even though no one can see our hands due to how close we are, and how many people are moving about, my heart pounds at his bold nature. I adore it, so I squeeze him and keep my head facing forward as I lead him off the dance floor. We settle back, Thomas letting go of my hand to pick up two glasses of champagne and hands me one. We both take a long sip, perhaps settling our brains or making it worse. Well see. 

“You look,” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words, brows furrowed slightly as if he was reading a dictionary, “enchanting.” he finally finishes, gifting me a rare smile it seems. No longer does he smirk at me, but shows me a genuine look that I want to have painted as it is the best thing I have witnessed. Heat rises to my cheeks as I look down at my dress. Someone at least understood what I was going for, with a pale peach colour, sparkling bodice that runs along the length of the skirt. The long sleeves adorned with tiny gemstones, golden to match the accented colours of the hall. In response to Thomas I look back up at him with my own genuine smile, perhaps some of the only true smiles to be shared this evening. His suit fits him perfectly, showing off his defined features, his tie a pale peach as well. I assume Dacina helps him, as her dresses always astound me with the details. There are tiny, miniscule gems on his tie, that snake down and remind me of vines.

“You look,” I act the way he did, scanning my brain for something that fits, handsome or charming doesn't do justice but I'm sure whatever I use will only boost his ego and be used against me, so I settle with: “bedazzling.” 

“Bedazzling?”

“Thomas, I study the dead, I have to look closer than one should at things, so of course I noticed your tie. Henceforth: bedazzling.” The air shifts back to our teasing tone and he smirks once again.

“You are the only one to notice, except Daci of course, nothing gets past her. Am I correct in assuming you like the tie?” Despite his teasing I feel a hint of worry as if I wouldn’t like his tie. 

“I adore the tie cresswell, everyone here should be weaning ties with tiny jewels.”

His face falls as he scans the crowd, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the groups of men. “I cannot tell if you are being serious with me or not, but I agree nonetheless. The men here are awfully drab, boring, plain. It's insulting to us really. Daci puts so much time into making this beautiful and these people do not see it.” He is shaking his head. I agree, I have heard how much work goes in and despite my effort to help she insists that I do nothing but enjoy the party. I have a sneaking suspicion though that Liza helps. The flower centrepieces are her favourite, and whilst that might be a coincidence I know how stubborn and convincing she can be. 

“I do. I love her parties. I always find myself standing here, watching and noticing all the changes from the month prior. Like, last month she went for more of a red theme, with red roses as the centrepieces, little red accented chairs and carpets. Whereas this month is more of a forestry vine, hence the vines around the column.” I point as though they are a secret thing you need to search for even though they are obvious. Yet he turns anyway and runs his finger down the length of it with his adorable face set at a soft smile. Thomas might have been there when she got the idea, or placed them or he might have placed them himself and is now remembering it. 

My gaze finds Thomas and he looks at me, baffled, and I feel the blush creeping back up. It is not the same confused look that I get when I tell people my love of science, but one of intrigue. As if he could listen to me talk forever and not get bored. It's as if he has never thought anyone would notice such things about his family's party. “Enchanting.” is all he whispers to me. Then he clears his throat, an ever so soft shake of his head as though once again the words were meant for him and not us both. 

I stare out at the crowd again. I'm sure my family will want to know where I've disappeared to, I normally do not leave them this long. Liza I'm sure will want to know why I danced with Thomas. Yet the thought of leaving him makes my legs leaden and my heart sink and anchor me right next to him. Im completely wonderstruck, and feel ill have a permanent blush, especially when i look at his stupidly handsome face, his quick smirk and small smiles that feel special. It is odd, I've only heard stories, spoken to him briefly and danced, yet I have enjoyed his company immensely and hope this never ends. I want more dances and to steal more smiles to keep forever. I want to make fun of people together, and dance. 

I go to steal a glimpse of him, expecting to find him staring at the crowd like I was but his eyes are on me. “I have to leave,” his abrupt words anchor me in an entirely different way, “I mean,  I want to stay and I'm sure you want my amazing presence always now Wadsworth but I have to wake early. New job. So, my darling, I shall see you tomorrow.” Thomas hesitates for half a second and begins to walk away. I watch him go and say goodnight to his sister and then leave. His words fill my head. It’s reassuring to know he enjoys my company as much as I do.

~

I bolt upright in my bed, the lights, music and memories falling away as I focus on the last words he said to me.

I'll see you tomorrow. 

What does tomorrow mean? Does it mean he has a job where he thinks I visit? Will he be making an effort to befriend me? Does he know my family? I am so confused. How had I not caught these words sooner? Perhaps he wants to tell me he had a terrible time, that he doesn't like my presence. I'm on my feet without realising, pacing back and forth, the cold air hugging me close. I wish he was in front of me now. I wish he would whisper the words enchanting again. I wish I knew what was happening in a few hours that warranted him saying those four words. I run my hands over my face, untie my hair and let my curls fall over my shoulder, brushing away the colder ever so slightly. I'm ridiculous. Four tiny words sent me spiralling. I climb back into bed, my hair fanning out around me and the blanket returning warmth back into my system. Immediately my mind returns to Thomas, his face forever in my mind. Even if tomorrow could be the last time I see him, there is a chance that it is just the start. 

Enchanting…

Those words fill me with confidence that yes, Thomas might become someone special to me. That perhaps our dance sparked something and now all I wish is that I can tell him how enchanting he is.

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @loveyatopluto @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @bookscressworth @androgynousdeputylawyershoe @fandomtakeover @throneoftsc @the-hoofflepooff

#sjtr #hpd #efh #ctd #cresswell #thomas and audrey rose #Thomas Cresswell #Audrey Rose Wadsworth #audrey rose #kerri maniscalco #enchanted #taylor swift #stalking jack the ripper #Hunting Prince Dracula #escaping from houdini #capturing the devil

[iscribble]

pairing | youtuber!renjun x student!reader genre(s) | fluff, slice of life, strangers to potential lovers, college au word count | 1.8k summary | you’re always the type to be punctual, so it takes you by surprise that you’re willing to give up your time for something else - someone else, rather; a stranger.  author’s note | havent written in so long that i just had to put something out there. im really sorry for being so inactive! :( 

An extended but lonely crack slithers down the bathroom mirror, grazing your reflection on the glass that is opaque with moisture. Through the corner of your eye you perceive one-fourth of the aged, spreading tree outside your apartment whenever the old creaking door swings open with the wind. The quiet—but prominent—plop of the water that leaks through the apertures on the pipe hits your ears, and it is only after a while that you find it fills the little space between your toe and the tip of your shoe. The leak doesn’t bother you though. Neither does the crack, nor the random wind gusts. A yellow lip balm bounces in your palm, cap greasy from applying too much on your finger. You would exchange a mere lip balm for a heat pack, but you put it on anyway. The harsh cracks on your lips are now tucked away underneath a tacky layer of cream, and you find it amusing how easily it wears away. 

You are late, for the first time in months. Nothing really bothers you as much as glancing at the clock and seeing its hands where you least expect them to be.

In your defense, it was an afternoon class. You don’t usually have afternoon classes unless your professor needs to reschedule, which, inevitably, resets your agenda for the rest of the day. You, on the other hand, are not used to rescheduling. So when you can’t feel the warm shaft of sunlight skim across your eyelids, instead, only the feeling of cold air brushing past your skin and the faint sound of your alarm, you jolt awake, guilty of sleeping in. You try not blame yourself though—this doesn’t happen everyday and you are still not used to it. 

The station is disposed with a boring facade and a duller interior. The giant vintage clock shows 15:18. The three seater bench still holds too many people.  There is that man with the navy-coloured down jacket behind the counter, uninterested in the regulars who flock to their respective platforms. These are the same sequences, the same faces, like people are helpless boats going with the current. You scrunch up your nose, admitting you are one of them too. 

You make your way inside the train, opting to sit near no one else. It takes a while for you to settle down, but when you do, you catch someone looking at you. Harbor gray coat, brown hair, black mask. You don’t recognise him anywhere on campus. You think maybe he attends one of the afternoon classes, but you don’t assume further. 

15:29.

You leave the train with a spring in your step, but not out of enthusiasm. The familiar crisp white frontage of the building comes into view, your heart skipping a beat as you think of the worst that could happen upon stepping inside the lecture hall. One strap of your tote slides down your shoulder, and just as you are about to pick it up, the other strap goes loose and drags your bag down with it. A couple of coloured pens roll out, you grumble to yourself and crouch down to stop them from rolling any farther. You fail at this, when you turn around to pick up a blue pen and realise that someone else beat you to it. The stranger from the train. 

“Got it,” he chuckles, and you feel embarrassed. He returns your pen, but his eyes don’t stop at your hands. His gaze lowers a short distance, you’re almost sure he’s looking at the brick road beneath you, but you’re not really sure why. When you stand back up he vaguely shakes his head, like he’s been thinking about something else, but you don’t miss it.  

“Thank you,” you say, too fast that it almost sounds insolent. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he returns with a smile behind his mask. “I’m Renjun, by the way.” He extends his hand for you to shake. What’s he doing? Why's he acting like he’s about to proceed with an interview or something?

You learn that he really does want to “interview” you. “I’m a youtuber,” he informs. It is only then that you realise someone else is standing behind him, occupied with a camera. 

“Oh,” you eventually reply, but nothing else. He waits for the typical “that’s cool!” but you are too quiet, Renjun can practically hear someone making a fuss about her peppermint hot chocolate being too hot in the distance. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? It’s for a youtube video.” He speaks up. You say nothing at first. Your fingers that hide underneath the rib-knit cuff curl into a ball. You feel the crack that litters your lower lip flaunt itself, the thick lip balm that conceals it long gone. You seem even more conscious of your worn out shoes that somehow feel damper than they already are. Putting your weight on one leg, you try your best to decline him in the most mannerly way possible. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m actually late to class.”

You can’t see his smile but you know it falters. His glasses droop a little, you see the red marks on the bridge of his nose. “I see.” Is all he says. He looks back at his friend and shrugs. “Thank you, anyways.” Your stomach churns. You don’t want to be the reason he leaves empty handed, yet he is leaving, empty handed and all. Somehow, your concern for punctuality slowly withers away.

“No, wait,” you catch his fingers just before he turns the other way. He winces. Not because of the sudden swell of your voice, but because your hands are a little too cold. You steal a glance at the watch on your wrist. 15:32. Renjun finds your eyes. He doesn’t say it, that your hands are too cold, but he takes them in his own, warming them up. Strangely enough, your whole body heats up at the gesture. 

“Class can wait, whatever. What’d you want to ask me?”

Renjun’s eyes all but light up. He signals for his friend to start filming. “Alright, a few questions about college, I’m going to try and guess your major.”

“Oh, that’s new,” you raise an eyebrow. “Did you come up with the idea?”

“Nah,” Renjun laughs, he brings up a hand to push his hair back. “Just following a trend.”

15:33. You nod. “Alright, go on.”

You notice a few things about Renjun. The way he speaks, like you’ve known each other for a long time. The way his hair isn’t exactly brown, rather russet, a little red. When you look closer into his eyes, you see they match his hair. You wish you could see his lips, see if they’re as cracked as yours, if he puts lip balm on a little too much, but the black mask he wears that almost reaches his eyes tells you it’s too early for that. Perhaps, if he lowers the article just a few inches, you’ll understand that the circles beneath his eyes mean that he’s equally as tired as you. He asks you questions, not rushed, and though you are definitely late to class, you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore.

“Might have an idea,” he looks to the camera tentatively, then back to you. “Chemistry?”

“You’re good,” your compliment reaches his ears. “How’d you guess?”

Renjun punches the air in glee as if he won the lottery. “Honestly, couldn’t get a single clue from what you said. But I saw your Analytical Chemistry book peeking out from your tote when it fell.” 

“Whoops, my bad.” You share a laugh. 

“And as a thank you for the—” he scrutinizes his watch, “—five minutes I just took from your time, this is for you.” A heat pack. You didn’t know how much you needed one until your hands reach for the item almost immediately.

15:38. You squeeze the pad as heat begins to radiate from it. Renjun’s friend lowers the camera as soon as you’re done filming, and it is then that Renjun seems like he has something else on his mind.

“Uhm,” he half-whispers. You look at him, confused. “Your shoes.”

You know what he means. Your shoes leave ambiguous trails of dirt, just slightly. Renjun notices it though. Your shoes are rather soggy, like they were deliberately dipped in water. Traces of soil scatter the outsole, centimetres up and you’ll see a small patch of fabric, sewn on to cover the hole that’s exposing your toes. You tremble slightly, bringing your right foot behind your left in an attempt to hide it from him. No one has ever pointed it out.

“Oh. They’re old, but, they work.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he scoffs lightly. “Let me buy you new ones.”

“No.” You realise that comes out too abruptly. “Please, that’s really unnecessary.”

15:39.

“You’re late to class,” he reasons with you. “At least let me make it up to you.” The obscure rift on your bottom lip bleeds a little. You like to bite it whenever you feel nervous. Renjun reaches for his phone in the pocket of his ivory trousers and hands it to you. 

“We can go over the details through text,” he subtly looks at his friend, wanting to know if the gesture is okay. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

15:40. You give in. Your fingers are stiff—you realise you’re giving your number to a stranger, so you take some time to secretly ponder over the situation, although you hate to admit Renjun feels more like a new friend. He sends you a message once you give him his phone back just to make sure you get his number. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him. “That’s really kind of you.”

15:41.

You hesitate before a hand comes up to wave at him and his friend, though the heat pack is still crushed between your fingers. Renjun pulls his mask down for the first time, and it would be weird to say you were waiting for it. For his smile. You can perceive through the white fabric whenever it shifts that he is smiling underneath there, but now it’s irrefutable, the evidence that he actually is smiling, and you’re glad that’s the last thing you see before the customary sight moulds into view, once again. 

If someone had told you this morning that you’d be willing to sacrifice your punctuality for a stranger, you’d knock some sense into them. But as you stand before the doors to the lecture hall, phone in your grip as you stare at the cerulean waters you fancy as your lock screen, no, rather, the notification that overlays it “let me know when you’re in class, i feel responsible lol”, the unusual feeling that blooms inside your chest reminds you that you could live a little less orderly and a little more self-willed.

15:43.

You’re thirteen minutes late. Though now, nothing really bothers you as much as not being able to concentrate in class because he’s all you can think about. 

#i hope this makes up for the five months ive been inactive lol #also!! #this is my first piece for nct!! #im actually reallyyyy into them <333 #some feedback would be greatly appreciated!! #huang renjun #renjun #nct #renjun scenarios #renjun imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream #nct x reader #nct fluff #renjun x reader #nct scenarios #dreamwritersnet #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic #renjun fluff

[yandere-mha-blog]

Chapter 14: Going back and new news

words:2129

Tw: panic attack, mention of abuse

You were shivering on the floor trying to catch your breath along with wanting to throw up, you felt frozen in place your hands felt numb as they gripped your arms. Katsuki was mad, very mad at you right now, you knew he was, on top of being a throne in his side for the past couple of days, you made him even more panicked but just leaving, what was wrong you, why did you always mess up everything, you felt weak as Katsuki opened the door, you were cowering in the corner of this gross bathroom shivering like you had been left out in the cold. Katsuki froze in his place, you looked so small and frail.

“(name)...why did you leave?” He asked crouching down and said in calm voice as you just kept hitching your breath “look...you aren't being burden on me, if you were i would of kicked you out, how many times do i need to say it.”

You only managed to mutter out a weekly “I'm sorry.” to him

“You have nothing to apologize for, look (Name) it's my job am a sa hero to help people, you don't need to worry about how it affects me, the media has hounded me for years, what they are talking about now is nothing, who cares what those damn vultures think anyways.”

“But it's my fault.”

“No it was Chuyas fault, look stop blaming yourself for the relationship she ruined, me and Chuya weren't on good terms for a long time, it was doomed to fail anyways, and if anything i am fucking thankful i am out of that relationship okay!?”

You didn't say anything back

“Come on (Name) look at where you are, on a dirty bathroom floor.” Katsuki said as you looked up and sniffed in your arms “And it smells like shit in here as well, i told you i would help you out didn’t i, and i don't lie.”

“You don't.” you said

“I don't lie, so come on let's go back you're not safe out here, i don't think you are safe from yourself either.” He said, you just nodded your head and slowly stood up still not looking up “Here grab onto my arm and we will head back okay?”

You nodded and grabbed his sleeve and walked out of the bathroom, Katsuki grabbed your belongings as you continued to grab onto him,, and headed out and back into his car, you kept looking down in your lap.

“(name), can you tell me why you were curled up in a tiny ball in that filthy bathroom?” Katsuki asked

“...I thought, I heard my dad banging on the door...im sorry, i know it sounds silly but it felt so real.”

“Your dad huh.” Katsuki said reaching over and putting your seatbelt on

“He was always very loud and banging stuff around the house.” you said “It's silly I know, I know it is...still I couldn't help but think he was going to break that door down and hit me.”

“Your dad hit you?” Katsuki said starting the car

“A lot, my brothers weren't very nice to me as well.” You explained “There is a reason I don't like talking about my family.”

“Well , I hate to tell you this but while I was looking for you, I stumbled upon your record. Is the reason you were a child of the state was because your home life was abusive?” Katsuki asked

You shook your head no

“Well I think I know why you ran out like you did, but (name) tell me you will never do anything that idiotic again.”

“I promise, but promise me you will tell me when you want me gone.” You said, as Katsuki plopped the hello kitty plush in your lap.

“I will.” Katsuki said as he drove off, and when you arrived back at his apartment, Katsuki saw that your eyes looked hollow.

“Look, go to my bed and get some rest now.” He said “and I don't want to hear any of this, oh i can't it's your bed i don't want to be a bother shit okay.”

“Okay.” you said as you walked to his room and crawled under the blanket, cocooning yourself still having a death grip on that hello kitty plush.

Katsuki looked in your bag and took out your phone and went to his home office and put it in one of his drawers and locked it, he wasn't going to let you read more on how everyone was perceiving this citation, what did a bunch of extras know anyways, he walked into his room and turned off the light and closed the door before letting out a long sigh and collapsed on the couch.

He woke up to his phone alarm and slapped it shut as he got up, he had a knot in his neck from sleeping wrong, he opened up his bedroom door and still saw you cocooned up in the blanket, he walked over and shook you a bit.

“Hey wake up.” He said

“Hmm?” you said poking your head out

“How are you feeling?” He asked

“Better.” You said “Still kind of shitty.”

“Well i need to go to work, so can you promise me you wont run off again?” he asked, you nodded “I need to hear it from your mouth.”

“I promise not to go running off again.” you said pressing the plushy in his face

“Good.” He said and went off to get ready, you went back to sleep, and woke up around noon, you really wanted to slap yourself right about now, you really went out and did something dumb , all Katsuki wanted was to get you to a safe spot and you left, and then took his bed. You swung your feet over and headed to the bathroom and splashed water on your face and then cupped your hands and drank some. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“NO, no you are not going to do this today, no more negative thoughts and over thinking about anything, you are going to relax and stop having him worry about you.”

One meal later and sitting on the couch watching some tv, a show about penguins seemed to interest you a lot, as the door rang, and you jolted falling off the bed, you tiptoed over and saw through the camera it was just Kirishima, so you gladly opened the door.

“Hi Kirishima, Katsuki isn't here right now.” You said

“OH i know, Katsuki asked me to stop by and check on you, heard you ran out the other day.” Kirishima explained

“Haha yeah just me being difficult I guess, wanna come in?” You asked

“Don't mind if i do, what cha watching anyways?” He asked looking at the tv

“A documentary on penguins.” You said as you watched one of the little birds fall off a rock and bounce off and waddling away unfazed.

“Huh they are so chunky, well if everything is okay here then I'll head back out.” Kirishima said “Hero work and stuff.”

“Okay stay safe.” You said and Kirishima stopped before leaving

“You wanna go for a walk and it looks like you need fresh air.” He said

“You sure but what about your hero stuff?” you asked

“Don't worry this city is really safe and nothing ever happens, we will go for a quick walk around the block, and I'll be there if anything does happen.” Kirishima reassured you

“Hmmm, okay I'll go grab my shoes, i need to get out a bit more anyways.” You said running to grab your shoes and jacket and joining him outside.

“I mean Katsuki was very vague on the whole checking up on you.” Kirishima said

“Well I kind of ran off the other day.” You shamefully admitted “I just kept blaming myself for everything that was going bad and didn't want to impose on him anymore.”

Kirishima snorted

“Oh you are funny, Katsuki doesn't deal with people he doesn't like.”

“He keeps telling me that, but I'm having trouble believing it, ya know.”

“I can kind of get that, he was really bad back in high school and to be honest he probably wouldn't give you the time of day back then, don't let him know I told you this, but he failed his hero listens exam the first time because he was so bad with reducing people.”

“Really, but he is such a good hero now.” you said

“Yup hard to believe.” Kirishima said “Although I did get a weird screaming call from Denki.”

“The weird guy, he stopped by saying some weird stuff, and started eating Bakugous' leftovers, I was sure he was going to blow the guys head off.”

“Haha that's denki ...and oh that's Denki!” Kirishima said as you saw the same yellow haired guy from before talking to a couple of citizens before waving them off. “Hey dude!”

“Hey eji!” Denki said waving and running over “you on a date-oh hey it's you!”

“Hi again.” you said stepping back and hiding behind Kirishima

“Okay dude what did you do to her.” Kirishima said

“Nothing, I didn't do anything, well I mean I guess I did say some dumb stuff when i stopped by, sorry about that again.” Denki said “It was just surprising to see a lady at Bakugous place, I mean it's Bakugos, that guy isn't exactly the romantic type.”

“Denki you are babbling again.” Kirishima said “Hey (name) Denki is a good guy he just talks before thinking is all.”

“It's fine really, I know I can be a little sensitive sometimes, but i do have to ask how many pro heroes are in Tokyo right now?”

“It's a secret.” Kaminari said “I am here on a mission.”

“Don't blow your cover dude.” Kirishima said “ I'm guessing Shinso is with you then?”

“Shhh you will blow his cover, we are on a team up mission right now, and i caught wind of what happened with old Kacchan.”

“Kacchan?” you asked

“OH that was a nickname Katsuki had in highschool, his childhood friend gave it to him.” Kaminari said “it doesn't suit him at all I know.”

“It's cute.” you said

“What are you two idiots standing around here for.” You heard Katsuki say “Hey what is she doing out here!?”

“Oh hey bro, I'm taking her out to get some fresh air, you were kind of vague on the whole checking up on her.” Kirishima said

“It was to make sure she was still in the house.” Katsuki said, then looked at Kaminari “And you!”

“Me?” Denki said backing up

“You have a lot of nerve showing up after what you said to her yesterday.” Katsuki said

“Bakugou, it's really okay now, I'm fine really.” You said standing in between them “I just ha da lot of emotions that just kind of boiled over at once, really I'm fine it's not Denkis fault.”

“Geez stop protecting the guy like I'm gonna murder him.”

“You look like you were!” Denki said cowering behind you

“Tsk, Kirishima make sure she gets back safely.” Katsuki said “and dunce face what are you doing here anyways.”

“Well I was heading to your agency.” Denki said, as Kirishima walked you back to his place.

“What for?” Katsuki asked

“Shinso got wind of an upcoming large scale attack on the city in the upcoming days, they say a large amount of villains with destructive quirks have been teaming up.”

“What's your proof.” Bakugou said as the two of them headed back

“Well have you noticed that the crime rate has almost gone down to zero, and that the only attack have been petty theft, it's because all the large scale villains are working together to plan an attack, Shinso caught one of them and interrogated them into spilling the details of the plan.”

“Well there was an attack on my agency a couple days ago but it was easily handled.” “Yup, diversion made them believe that was going to be the attack after their buddy spilled the beans, Shinso has been interrogating the ones that were caught from your agency actually.” “Why didn't anyone tell me?”

“You know how backed up everything is right now, when they didn't hear from you they sent me down here, then i caught wind of the news, and well i didn't want to panic the lady you had at your place.”

“You are an idiot, do they have the date when this is going down.”

“Not all they manage to get is the end of February so here we are.” Kaminari said

“Shit that is soon, I'll inform my sidekicks.” Katsuki said “Finally something interesting.”

“Your face is scarring me man.” Denki said

#yandere katsuki bakugo #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugou #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere #male yandere

[redrabbitspod]

This is in no way meant to be rude or disrespectful and I am fully aware that you can do whatever you please but I feel like Neil is getting so out of character. He clearly started to develop more of an own personality but he definitely has been through so much and he is just so..cheery and happy and clingy all the time(which if you’re like that is in no way wrong or bad) and now he reminds me so much of Nicky in AFTG. It’s really hard for me to still see Neil.

OOC: This is very long, and while we think everything leading up to it is super important to our thought process (and yes this is something we’ve thought about) the bit in bold is the heart of the point we try to make. (Please read the whole thing though!)

Hey, I’m actually really happy that you sent this in because I’ve been wanting to talk about it. I know that there’s a post going around that we both wholeheartedly agree with about Neil reaching far past ooc and becoming very ‘fem’. Jeni and I had a really long talk about this because we were worried that our Neil would be perceived or mistaken to fit in that trope. And while I think your concern is EXTREMELY valid (note: people can write the characters however they want. It’s fanfiction, they can do as they please, like you said, we just did not want to go that direction), I have a few points as to why I disagree. 

On surface I definitely get that. Idk if you’ve read the entirety of RRP, but I know for those of you that just read the asks (Im sure there are a lot), it DEFINITELY seems that way. But we went into RRP right off the bat letting people know that these characters will fundamentally be different. In Andrew’s case, we know he’s extremely soft now and we bring that up a LOT in the fic. Both himself acknowledging it and all the other characters around him. But we went in knowing he was going to be very different from canon - mainly because we took out the plotline that he was ever put on meds. In Wish You Were Here, the story we are writing post-season 2, we will be mentioning that and how we twisted it. Because in canon, that shaped his entire character. The medication changed the physiology of his brain and we hated the fact that something so abhorrent was forced upon him by the courts that we didn’t do it. And as a result, Andrew’s character is completely different because he’s able to tap into emotions that were blocked in canon. He’s able to grow in ways that he was not able to before and besides the fact that this is set a good while after college and especially his sophomore year that we saw in canon, he was going to change. We definitely know that them admitting that they love each other, making strides in their relationship both physical and mental, opening up, expressing, for his character may seem extremely ooc for some, but we had to take into account what would’ve happened if we took the thing that shaped his character in canon away. I hope we’ve done him justice. 

Now onto Neil. Neil we work over a LOT. And when Jeni brought this up to me because of the post, there were glaring things in my mind that automatically said no. This doesnt apply to our Neil even though to some it may seem that way. Here’s what we’ve done at least very consciously to make sure that our Neil holds integrity to his canon character, that he holds merit and a backbone to back up how he’s grown throughout our series. 

From day one, we knew that they knew each other. We knew that an event from the past not only shaped how Andrew approaches life, but how Neil does as well. Childish sentiment and nostalgia kept Neil in Arizona for so long, which we imply throughout season 1 and start the ball rolling in the first chapter. For the both of them, they held onto the boy they met at the Grand Canyon through everything they’d been through. When shit got tough, it was each other they thought of. And on some wild whim, Neil hoped one day Andrew would walk through the Book Nook’s doors and he’d see him again. Not because Neil had a crush, because he didn’t. But because Andrew was the embodiment of strength for him. 

New York was really important to us. Neil standing his ground and letting Andrew know exactly what he’d done to him, was what the entirety of Season 1 and EVEN season 2 culminated and came back to. Neil being able to say no, fuck you asshole, and always express exactly how he was feeling, was so vitally important to us. ESPECIALLY when it came to Andrew. Those few weeks of New York we wanted to build a bridge if you will. Andrew’s intentions were always genuine and well-meaning and Neil knew that, but survival instincts and what’s been ingrained in him stuck. They started to have a little give when he came to realize that he felt something for the man before him. But he never lost that fight for himself. That HE has to ALSO be okay. And I think we see a lot in that trope of Neil that he loses the fight, the backbone, the integrity that makes his canon character so compelling (even if he is a martyr). 

One thing we worried people would misinterpret was how fast we pushed their characters together. We definitely get that. In our world we didnt really have the luxury of really stretching it out like some may have, just because we were working with real-time. And honestly? As we wrote, the drive to push them together because they were so connected and intertwined just fell genuinely and organically. For us, it only made sense and not because of canon, but because of the story we’d written already. It made sense to us for Andrew to be the one to hold himself back and Neil be the one reaching out - Neil be the one exploring and beginning to recognize what want and really, agency over himself AND his wants, was. Neil was the one to ask for their first kiss here, Neil was the one to initiate them all afterwards, Neil was the one that asked Andrew to touch him, Neil was the one that asked what they were in Arizona, Neil was the one to bring up sex. And in return, Andrew was peeling away layers of himself, feeling accepted, and wanted, and understood in ways he’d never been before. And honestly? Feeling honored that they were both experiencing emotions in ways that they both never felt before. We see their relationship has an equal give and take, a push and pull. And I’m saying all of this because it’s honestly and truly really important for why we’ve made Neil’s character the way that he is. 

Going into season 2, we knew that happiness could not last long. They both had things to sort out, they both had hurdles to hop over, bridges to cross, whole fucking oceans to swim. Before season 2 started, before we had anything written or really even solidly planned, we knew they had to break up. Jeni even had the scene written back in either july or august. We knew that in order to continue trying to give integrity to their characters and relationship, how far they’d grown but also that growth is not a linear path, we needed to break them up. And in the lead up to that, we made sure that Neil was not only looking out for Andrew or trying to, but that he was looking out for HIMSELF. Unlike in canon, he didnt automatically have the foxes - not in his head at least. Of course he knew he had a home there, he knew that he had friends, but they weren’t like canon because he didnt grow WITH them like he did in canon. In his mind, he really only had Andrew and if there was no Andrew, why stay? And when their fight happened we made sure that Neil had value enough in himself, care for himself, love for himself AND for Andrew that they couldn’t let this go on any longer. Neil left because he knew he deserved better. He knew Andrew needed help and he couldn’t provide it. And he held onto that. In fact, Andrew even held onto it himself: 

“Is there no hope, then?” Andrew asked, unable to help himself.

Neil sighed and Andrew was grateful that he at least didn’t pretend that he didn’t know what Andrew meant.

“I don’t know, Dr- Andrew.” Was it possible for his chest to hurt even more? He wanted to curl in on himself, but settled instead for clenching the sharp corners of the pack of cigarettes in his pocket into the palm of his hand. He watched as Neil bit the inside of his lip and that little indent appeared. Maybe he feels it, too . “Part of me wants to say fuck it all and let’s just go home. I hate this... But I hate what you’ve been putting me through these last couple of weeks even more. I can’t do that again,” he stopped talking once more and inhaled a shuddering breath. “You broke my heart, Andrew. I know I sound dramatic and stupid, but I don’t know how else to say it and - I don’t know how to do this, for fucks sake.” He finally turned to him, but the eye contact was brief and before it was even there, it was gone. “I came into this knowing nothing about relationships and I know even less about breakups. I don’t know how to navigate this.”

“You think I do?” Andrew asked. He didn’t mean  for it to sound so bitter, but there it was.

“I don’t know with you,” Neil shrugged. “I feel like you keep everything so close to your chest, that there are whole sections of you I’m missing. And listen, I don’t blame you. You should be able to choose what you want to share. But I can’t help that it makes things hard when you’re falling apart and I don’t know why...”

Andrew let go of the box and put both of his hands in his lap. Grinding his teeth together, he heard the beginning hum of Bee’s buzz , but took a deep breath to try and keep her at bay. Clearing his throat, he looked back to the stadium and that stupid orange fox paw, before he murmured, “What if I offer you a piece?” - suddenly and quickly said, it was as if his mouth was trying to outrun his mind, despite the second he took to contain it. He’d known this would eventually come - that he would have to do this. And besides, Neil deserved an explanation, even if they never got back together.

“Andrew-”

“I’m not offering with hopes that we’ll get back together right now, Neil. I’m working through shit the best I can. Therapy is helping, but I know it’s a process. I just know you deserve an explanation. And I haven’t wanted to tell you because it’s fucking horrific, but I was also afraid that it would send me even further down the spiral if I talked about it. Now that I have a space to vent through, I don’t think I’m so afraid of the fall.”

This part was so important to us for both Andrew and Neil’s character. And in the entire build up to the break up and directly after, Neil held onto the fact that they needed to talk. He kept bringing it up. Because he knew that if they didn’t it would escalate just like it did before. 

“I wouldn’t risk being with you again if I didn’t think things would be different. I’m not better and to be honest? I probably wont ever be better. I’ve spent my entire life dealing with my shit by myself because that’s just how it was. I’ve avoided relationships because I never trusted anyone with my baggage and I didn’t think it’d be fair to pile it on someone anyway. So when it comes to talking about shit - I’m not used to that. Bee was the only person I’d ever told everything to, and she doesn’t even know all of it.”

“I know that,” Neil said, leaning forward as if to show Andrew how much he actually understood. If that was the case, Andrew believed him. “I know you, Andrew. I would never force you to talk about something you don’t want to. That’s not what I’m trying to do. But , I need you to work with me, and if not me, someone else. Don’t take it out on me when you’re going through shit that neither of us can control. It’s not fair and it makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong and I can’t fix it.”

Now. Now we’re up to your points. I promise all of this was important for me to explain, because I know there’s literally SO MUCH that we’ve written, that shit happening now can get in the way of everything that’s happened before to lead up to this. 

We fully recognize that Neil is definitely happy. But he’s not happy-go-lucky and we tried really hard to make sure he didn’t lose his integrity - his backbone - the things that made Neil, Neil. 

Something I realized throughout this series was that I was getting worried that the focus of season 2 was so heavily on Andrew. I was seriously worried about that. But then I realized that Season 1 was focused solely on Neil. Season 1, Neil was a fucking wreck. It was Matt AND Andrew comforting him, Matt and Andrew bringing him down, Matt and Andrew trying to protect him, take care of him, find him, search for him, all of that. But even through Neil’s horrific anxiety and all the bad shit that happened, it was still Neil that pushed himself up from the ground, pulled Lola back, and gave Andrew the in. It was Neil that fought with the doctors and nurses to see Andrew and make sure he was okay. Even still afterward though, it was Neil discovering and Neil understanding and a lot of Neil, Neil, Neil. 

Season 2 is heavily focused on Andrew. We’ve already seen Neil’s story and his growth. Its Andrew’s turn to try and again, build his bridge to getting better. But with that, it was Neil that made the strides to speak and handle Ichirou, it was Neil that figured out things with his uncle, it was Neil that ultimately had the gun, brought Andrew for practice - took it out and demanded Andrew get behind him this time. It was Neil that looked Andrew in the eyes as the cops patted them down and desperately tried to tether them together.  It was Neil that kept reassuring Andrew they were going home. It was Neil that snapped the moment the cop tried to put his hands on Andrew to show them where their things were when they left the prescient, and ANDREW that allowed himself to be pulled into Neil’s arms in that moment, because he knew that he was the one thing that was SAFE. It was Neil that held Andrew that night and Andrew that LET himself be held as he broke down. 

That was one chapter ago. And we really tried to illustrate at the end that they have a life ahead of them now. They have a future - a future that is spread out and it’s bright and full of possibilities. They have a future where they can do what they want. They have a FAMILY. They have nieces, Aaron, Kate, Bee, the entire TFN team. Neil had nothing and now he has something. He has hope. 

Promise Im coming down to the end omfg. This is why our Authors and End Notes are so fucking long i swear to fucking god. 

This BTP chapter, we wanted to explore that fucking unbridled happiness. That elation of fuck - we have the world out in front of us. We don’t have any killers on our backs, Hailey is safe, Robin is safe, Jean is out, the Moriyama’s are taken care of, Stuart isn’t begging Neil to join the Hatford Branch, Aaron and Kate might be moving back to South Carolina, they’re married and all of that isn’t terrifying. It’s COMFORTING. So yes, this BTP chapter was bright and cheery. Neil was most certainly happy and showing it. Jumping on the bed, kisses all around, getting excited over ZOO BABIES and a ZOO CHOO train. But just because we show this side of him where he gets to go on a road trip and experience real and true fucking freedom for the first time, doesn’t mean that we’re all of a sudden shedding everything that we’ve built for his character. I don’t think that’s what you meant, but I mean it when I say we take the characters, the integrity of the characters, very, very seriously. Also in this chapter, Neil takes a homophobic asshole to task and not in the way that a lot of people do, but by quietly hinting at the threat because Neil doesn’t need bells and whistles. In fact, he even talked about how being happy was something his mother frowned upon: 

Because the way he looked at Neil when a butterfly landed on his finger or when he snuggled up to a goat in the petting zoo let Neil know that Andrew was happy. And he was happy.  That was something Neil never really had in his life. His mother didn’t care if he was happy, only that he was alive . In fact, the less happy he was, the fucking better. By her logic, he was less likely to go rogue if he didn't feel like there was something to be happy about outside of her. 

Neil’s finally had a moment to enjoy and let go and we know exactly how that can come off, but we have an entire future planned for them and the book they’re about to explore. Spoiler Alert: It won’t be all “butterflies and rainbows”. But all of this does not mean that all of a sudden we’re giving in to tropes and changing his character entirely because of one chapter. RRP and it’s characters mean too much to us. 

So I definitely get where you’re coming from and I’m so fucking sorry this is so long omfg. And I respect your view because we definitely worried that people would see them like that. But we have a reason for almost everything we do in this fic and really, we just wanted to see the boys happy here. We don’t believe he’s like Nicky and we don’t believe he’s clingy, but everyone interprets these characters differently, and you’re certainly entitled to that opinion. We hope this just makes our thought process on Neil’s development a little clearer. - The Creators

#Anonymous #red rabbits pod #ooc #rr answers 2

[relaxxattack]

(this is like 1.3k words btw probably should have mentioned that)(I haven't reread this in like two weeks so gl)

Sometimes it's wise to not open your mouth. That was the first thing Ran had learned while traveling to the other world.

A few half-seconds after that, he learned that humans were a danger, and violent. Seemingly flinging their sloppily made weapons at any being they didn’t immediately recognize. He had to learn a lot of things in those few moments he had spent on that green filled-plain. He can still relay them in his mind, every now and then he finds an odd obligation to.

“Do you think I make a good general?” Jackie asked his otherworldly friend, the small man’s eyes tracing horizon in front of them. The calm lavender of the setting sun being clouded out of view by blooming rose-bushes.

Rule 1 is a lesson Ran finds himself relaying quite a bit.

Reassurances began itching themselves in the back of his throat, the small compliments of leadership and respect laying uncomfortably on Ran’s teeth and bitterly against his tongue.

An empty and distant “How so?” was what left his mouth in their place.

“It’s just,” Jackie's steps slowed for a moment. “I’m not a warrior, or- or even a soldier really. I just miss,” the general paused, stopping himself “God, I shouldn't have won that duel-”

“What do you miss?” Ran interrupted

Jackie hitched his breath and bit the inside of his lip, a flicker of pain sparking in his eyes “it's complicated.”

Human emotions were, with lack of a better word, odd. A single twitch of the eye or the wrinkle of the nose could have hundreds of roads leading to it, each becoming less and less paved as it got closer to its destination.

What further complicated this was that different expressions meant different things for different people, something that was entirely alien to the enderman, and something that took a lot of readjusting to become common to.

It was excruciatingly difficult with Jackie however. Often there were universal mannerisms that showed emotion amongst everyone. Small certainties that made Ran’s job just a little bit easier.

All of these practices had been thrown out the window at the sight of the general. Ran had been required to evolve a keen eye for pointing out when his friend became distressed. Perhaps it was the tenseness of his jaw, or the way he forced his shoulders down from hiding away his neck.

They were small things, for often a hollow grin left a stain on the blonde man’s face.

Something ached in the back of Ran’s skull “do you just not want to tell me?”

Jackie allowed his head to sag.

“I don't want to tell anyone really,” the young man explained with a nervous laugh, view craning downwards towards the hoard of daffodils that had begun to blossom over the garden-path.

They were beautiful things, blooming in honey and sugar bells, their undersides being highlighted in a golden orange as the light split through the petals.

There was something mesmerizing about them, the stems pinching through the cracks in the pavement and the soft, enclosed buds flopping over the smaller strands of green that kept them connected to the rest of the plant.

The blond boy held a lonesome nostalgia for when he would pick them from the line of their roots, growing through the gravel path in his old back garden. How he and his sister would split the flimsy stems in half and taste their sour insides, the clear, sugary liquid stickying the tips of their fingers and flecks of green getting inside their fingernails.

“What are you looking at?” Ran questioned, peering over the short general who had seemed to stop in place.

“They really are beautiful,” the young man answered.

“The daffodils?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize most gardeners consider them weeds?”

Jackie clenched his jaw and hit his friend on the arm a bit too roughly to seem playful “oh please, and you’re not a gardener now are you?” A forced, breathy chuckle came out of his mouth.

They were the small things.

That was yet another thing Ran had to figure out. But he’d get it eventually. He always does.

The smaller of the two quietly stormed away from his friend, kicking up granite and limestone off the ground as his feet trudged against the gravel, a small cloud of grey building up behind his heels.

The blond boy’s silhouette was outlined by a fractured golden rim as the sunlight filtered in through the gaps in between the rose-bush’s leaves, his shoulders seeming to quiver as they were strained down by his own mandatory will.

Ran paused, gazing at the lovely picture in front of him, the gorgeous oranges and reds lighting up the garden's foliage creating a pinkish purple reflection off the flora.

Something weighed down in the back of his chest. He wanted to see Jackie’s smile be genuine, at least for the rest of the night.

“They do look nice,” the tall one said, catching up to the small sunflower that had moved so quickly past him.

Jackie’s eyes softened and Ran felt something flutter behind his ears.

“You really think so?” He asked, looking upwards towards his friend.

“Definitely,” Ran answered.

The boy bit the inside of his lip, the corners of his mouth craning upwards into a grin “what do you like about them?”

Ran thought for a moment “,I enjoy how they grow in groups. No matter where they are, unless the rest were picked off obviously, you’ll never see one alone.”

“Do you have a favorite flower?” Jackie perched up on his tiptoes and poked his nose close to the enderman’s face.

“Um,” the creature said, flinching back slightly “I don’t, really, know any. Do you want to tell me some?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, continue then.”

Jackie lingered by his friend's emerald eyes for a moment longer, entranced by the way they seemed to be framed in sparkling jewels.

He had beautiful eyes, that was one of the things Jackie had learned.

The short boy pointed over to a field of purple flowers and began rambling about hybrids history and how they bloom. How they've evolved, how they’re perceived and what they mean. Another enderman creature came up briefly, something about bouquets and wedding venues although the conversation quickly changed pace towards the vines of ivy and grapevine that grew over the side of the building, the grape curling around frames with the ivy tracing the cracks between bricks.

They talked about flowers for the rest of the night, one going on tangents of pollination with the other humbly listening, wandering around the garden as ramblings of petals and pigment created a hum from the greenery.

It was a nice night, afterall Ran’s cheeks hurt from smiling for so long, and what night like that couldn't have been nice?

Just for tonight.

At least just for tonight.

---

It was important to keep logs of the day. Information discovered, things that should have gone unseen and private being filtered out through trails of citizens and roads leading to another realm.

The page with flowers sketched into the corners, however, was one that would be ripped out and hidden, stuffed into the back of a drawer neatly folded and left to read over later.

Of course there were a few pages torn at the seams. Ones that Ran knew neither he nor Jackie would have wanted to be discovered.

They were important, though. The self-doubt, a weak link that could be potentially valuable during war-time, not that Ran was 100% sure that the diplomat he had been newly assigned even knew they were fighting.

It felt like a quiver lined with something bitter, the archer firing arrow heads made of needle and flint with a bow string lit on fire.

The trickles of ink from quill to paper detailing strategies and lackluster qualities of the opposing side.

This is when he’d remind himself of Rule 2.

The most important point to be made.

I wrote this like 3 months ago so the pacing is a bit weird. but jackie is kinda out of character for a reason lol sleep deprivation and burnout will do that to you :]

its sweet though its so sweet im going all TwT rn.... awwwwwwweee

okay now i must return to my work prison (god its due soon and im doing just Horribly help hudvsjkmx)

[mousehole5000]

wow i made this draft on november 1st i really took a break from this huh anyway tgcf chapters 121 - 142

i realize now this coffin scene was inevitable. feel kinda weird about hua cheng  back and forth from Teen to Big Man but it is very funny that theyre having their “dude dont look at my boner” moment while in the jaws of a water dragon

pei ming: why didnt you guys make a bigger coffin so you didnt have to squish together like that? xie lian: haha yep!! anyways what brings you here?

“In the grand, spacious centre of the entrance hall sat a person. And this person, dressed in all black, its face snow-white—was a corpse! Instantly Xie Lian shut the doors soundly.” - king of minding his own business.

okay this is where i stopped putting notes here for a while but i did save some in my e-reader so here’s some of the highlights

“Guzi used to have a good sleeping form, but perhaps with his cheap dad’s bad influence, now he was also spread out on top of Qi Rong’s stomach like a dead fish. Lang Ying himself was curled neatly in the corner, and was covered by a few shirts. Xie Lian lifted the blanket covering Qi Rong, suppressed the urge to smother his face, and covered the two small children.” - xie lian funny moments. also it would be really funny if qi rong redeems himself by learning love through these misfit chiildren and it might actually endear me to him but i hope that doesnt happen

Every heavenly official was yelling, and even Ling Wen was throwing a fit. “DON’T THROW EVERY BIT OF USELESS INFORMATION MY WAY, HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK I HAVE TO GO THROUGH EVERY DAY? DON’T YOU ALL KNOW TO USE YOUR BRAINS A LITTLE BEFORE ASKING ME?!” - ling wen marry me right now

“An expression like “seen a ghost” that only mortals experienced was now showing on his face for the first time. Shi Wudu’s pupils shrank to the smallest they could, and he blurted, “You’re still alive?!” “I’m dead!” He Xuan said coldly.” - okay everythings going tits up rn but i did laugh

i did see spoilers re: ming yi/he xuan reveal + shi wudu’s fate beforehand so i dont have a genuine reaction other than oh shit

“He slowly enunciated each word. “I won’t touch your fate. But, here in this place, chop off your brother’s head for me.”  CLANG! He threw a rusty blade onto the ground. Shi Qingxuan stared at that blade, his eyes wide. He Xuan continued, “Then, never show yourself before me again, and I will pretend you’ve never existed in this world.” - okay idk what else is going to happen but rn im concerned that this is like the 2nd biggest ship. i guess we’ll see?? i mean i am really curious whats going to happen to them. shi qingxuan keeps calling he xuan “ming-xiong” and i... sad

shi wudu im not really invested in you as a character but these next two bits... interesting

“If I don’t die but have nothing, then that’s truly a fate worse than death. If I’m not the Water God, I can’t take care of you. I won’t even be able to protect myself. I’m scared that we won’t even last two days…TAKE IT!” - damn. something about the wealthy losing everything and not knowing how to live without it bc thats their entire life and identity

“EVERYTHING I HAVE TODAY, I FOUGHT FOR MYSELF. I WILL FIGHT FOR WHAT I DON’T HAVE. I WILL CHANGE FATE I DON’T POSSESS. MY FATE IS UP TO ME AND NOT THE HEAVENS!” - okay so the whole committing spiritual fraud by tormenting a man and his family to get your brother a cushy title thing aside this was kind of badass. heretical? possibly. but still. also is he intentionally riling up he xuan so sqx doesnt have to kill him? if so damn...

also okay as long as im here im just gonna say it. the choice that he xuan gives shi qingxuan is fucking brutal but i actually think its probably as fair as it could be. sqx didnt know about or participate in what happened to hx but they did benefit from it greatly while hx lost EVERYTHING and i can understand he xuan’s thinking of “if you really feel bad for what happened to me then you have to make a sacrifice and understand the suffering and this is as clean as its going to get” and theres a bit where sqx is trying to beg for mercy but cant get the words out which im guessing is bc theres no good argument!! what happened was fucked up!!

“When Pei Ming saw that reinforcements had arrived, he didn’t appear particularly delighted; instead he threw the sword into the ground, then rubbed his nose and said, sounding grim, “You all just had to come just as I finished making these, what the heck.” - pei ming making coffins chopping down trees with his sword i love it #wastehistime2k17

“Xie Lian brought that basket of eggs along, and gave them away as souvenirs from the mortal realm. Many who received the eggs were overjoyed; some deciding to eat it along with their own blood, and some proclaiming they would hatch an eight-foot monster.” - GHOST CITY GHOST CITY

“Placing the brush down, he blew lightly at the ink and smiled. “If I like something, then my heart will not have room for any other, and I’ll always treasure it. A thousand times, a million times, no matter how many years, this will not change. This poem is the same." - thats nice and all but king... get therapy. i actually have further thoughts but tbh i dont want to put them into words bc they are simply too personal! moving on

didnt take any notes but somewhere in here was the bit with mount tong’lu opening and hua cheng losing it and kind of um. hm. that scene. thats another trope i really hate tbh i dont care for it as a way of including physical intimacy between characters and idk if it really ever adds anything but whatever moving on

The Half-Maquillage Woman - kind of interesting monster idea bc women and aging…. yeah. however i think this would be a lot stronger if there were a) more girls and this was b) discussed or illustrated at all prior to this moment. still interesting that its included knowing the author is a woman tho and there’s been comments on how ling wen is perceived vs pei ming. this book does keep giving me hope for interesting female character arcs i really want it to deliver something

quan yizhen..... i get u

lmao i have a note on a bit with lang ying that says “please dont be hc in disguise” and..... my clown nose was on but at least i knew that. for real this is bothering me how much he’s just. always. there. i know he’s a lead but we didn’t really need him around for a lot of this. oh well.  okay now to my current notes

“Yet it was precisely because it wasn’t cooked that it had to be eaten quickly. Once Xie Lian cooked it, it wouldn’t be edible anymore” - fucking fantastic

“Xie Lian hugged his belly. “Of course! Only after having met you did I rediscover that it’s such a simple thing to be happy, hahaha…” Hearing this, Hua Cheng blinked. Xie Lian’s laughter quieted a bit, realizing what he just said was a little too revealing.” - okay i know i said what i said about being tired of hua cheng being everywhere but... the line…. the fact that theyre laughing together…. :pleading:

“It’s not,” Ling Wen said. “At least, I believe, there will definitely not be another in history who can create a dish called ‘Incorruptible Chastity Meatballs’” - and truer words were never spoken

“I, DO NOT WORSHIP GODS. “I, AM GOD!” - this was every bit as badass as i hoped but no one told me it was immediately followed up by a little bit of the ol dinner theater fjalkdsfjsd. also puqi shrine noooooooooo

“Xie Lian sighed as he thought, “Qi Rong has taken Guzi away, who knows if the poor child was eaten or abandoned. Wind Master...... ..... who knows if Black Water took him away. Pray they’re both safe.” yeah hey are we going to fucknig. find out what happened to the child???

and yeah i dooooont really care for the age regression? thing thats going on. i just dont like that trope tbh. but tiny hua cheng whipping out his fat ghost king wallet in the store was funny tho. it is really funny that hualian are just like wandering around some random towns while the heavens are in an uproar. i guess theres not much else to do but its funny

“Me too, me too. You all know of my shixiong, right? Talented, with an infinite future! He only had one small vice: he loved playing women. Decades ago, a little prostitute ghost seduced my shixiong and sucked him dry into human jerky, and that Hua, Hua, Hua, that ghost king dared shelter her.” - yes omg give me the forbidden hua cheng lore i love this for him for real it goes along nicely with xie lian’s principles about giving another cup. god i love shared values

“Hua Cheng poked again, and a small hole appeared on the wall, as if the wall was made of tofu.” - how’d he do that. why is this a ghost king power. its useful tho

*me shaking qi rong when he pops up* WHERE IS THE CHILD

mu qing fu yao is here okay im happy now. once again no one has a good grasp on their secret identity and i love that. this inn has descended into chaos and im delighted and im glad lan chang is back

“The good ol’ kitchen was suddenly squished and crowded, loud and noisy. Fu Yao was chasing that fetus spirit leaping up and down, Lan Chang was chasing after Fu Yao like she had gone mad. Half of Qi Rong’s face changed shape by the way Xie Lian was pressing him down on the chopping board, his back turning into a target for those yellow talismans Fu Yao hurled while being observed by a crowd, and Lan Chang would step on him from time to time.” - this is pure chaos. i love that mu qing was in that room when the mob checked and he didnt say a word didnt open the door just sent out a talisman as a warning. king your disguise is transparent

“Xie Lian remembered the way Feng Xin laughed until he was hoarse when he first heard that verbal password all those years back, and couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, even though it wasn’t the right time.” - awwwww omg im emotional about this... faithful friend feng xin laughing at xie lian’s stupid joke password and remembering it!!! ;_;

“They have, but they’re not effective,” Feng Xin said. “Usually they’re the most diligent in scorning the Palace of Ling Wen, like they could do the job way better if they had the position. Now that we need them to take up the task, not a single one can do even half of what she does.” - typical... typical typical typical

also emotional about the fact that feng xin contacted xie lian at all.....

also!! emotional about lan chang as a mom and wanting to help out sick lil guzi.....

xie lian forcing “fu yao” to let him help “his general” is making me.... what is friendship if not playing along with your buddies little shenanigans while also making them accept your help

“Someone like Mu Qing, even though he’s narrow-minded, petty, sensitive and skeptical, has a bad personality, constantly guessing, doesn’t say nice things, likes to nag, always offending people and has a lot of people who dislike him, has no friends, can remember small, unimportant details for a long period of time…” ”Xie Lian went on in one breath with a straight face, but in the end he concluded with, “...But I’ve known him since we were kids, after all, he’s still got principles.” - XIE LIAN PLEASE AFJDLKSFJDL omg ive seen this quote before but i figured he was talking to someone else not actually to mu qing himself fgjasdkfjsl. god thats amazing. hey im gonna help you out because i care but i will roast you first <3

waaaaaait so is lan chang aka jian lan that girl from book 2 we took a page to talk about and then disappeared? that has to be it why else would we have stopped to discuss her

“Jian Lan spat on his face, then choking his neck, she slapped him twice again. “WHAT SHITTY SUPREME! YOU SURE KNOW HOW TO BLOW YOURSELF UP! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, THINK YOU’RE EVEN WORTH TO BE THOUGHT OF AS EQUALS WITH THE OTHER THREE SUPREMES? WHAT ARE YOU EVEN GOOD AT? YOUR THICK SKIN? OF COURSE I DARE HIT YOU!” - oh this feels so good i cant lie. YES GET HIM!! CHOMPING AND VIOLENCE YES!!!!

okay this description of cuocuo.... im... that sure the hell is a creature

this book is so entertaining bc i already saw spoilers for the feng xin/jian lan/cuo cuo reveal and yet i could never have predicted the circumstances that brought it about. imagine being feng xin. the heavens are in an uproar and your only friend/enemy has been jailed for possible fetus spirit-related crimes but he escapes along with this female ghost who keeps causing problems. you figure “fuck it lets see if dianxia kept his old phone number” and he has but then he hangs up on you. you’ve got fuckall else to do so you go find him. mu qing is there but he’s in his disguise the two of you were using so you could watch over his highness while staying aloof. you think you see hua cheng only he’s a chiild for some goddamn reason but who knows at this point. the female ghost is also there and theres a fetus spirit climbing trees and biting your arrows in half. you realize the female ghost is your ex and the little demon is your son. it bites you. what do you do

amazing that despite everything going on everyone is still playing along with the “fu yao” persona when it would probably be easier to drop pretenses at this point. then again tbh if i could explain my actions to my friends while pretending to be a third party.... i probably would so.. carry on

“With all his devotees gone, only Feng Xin still treated him like the Flower-Crowned Martial God and His Highness the Crown Prince. ” “...his protection charms were all seen as trash. However, Feng Xin was still determined and tireless in handing them out; telling Xie Lian, look, you still have devotees.” “After all, he was the darling of the heavens since birth, high and mighty. Feng Xin so naturally spun around him like he was the world, so how could he possibly have his own life, his own heart” “Whether or not that fetus spirit was Feng Xin’s son, if it was that period of poverty that made Feng Xin lose the girl he loved, Xie Lian wouldn’t be able to forgive himself no matter what." ohhhh my god this relationship i. im...

oh my god i still have 30 more chapters until book 4............ its naptime now i think

#tgcf liveblog #so close and yet so far...... #i keep hearing tell of this fabled book 4 i must press onwards...... #but now im sleepy..... #mouse mumbles

[yeoldontknow]

Enough (M)

Author’s Note: uhm...i felt this in my soul today and im going to say up front this is not a usual reader insert. as an adult plus size woman, sometimes i want to read about a larger OC/YN who struggles with body image. so i wrote that because i imagine if i want to read that, someone else must want that too. im not trying to tackle anything huge with this, i just want to fill a different kind of need. if its not your thing, you dont have to read it. i love you as much as i love chanyeol, regardless if you read my work or not <3  Prompt (from the followers milestone drabble game): 99 - “You’ve got a cute butt.” Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: light smut; fluff; light angst; romance; au Summary: You’ve admired your co-worker for a long time, often to the point of viewing him as someone unattainable. The morning after you slept together, you think about self-worth, beauty, and remind yourself of your power. Rating: light NC-17 Warnings: light sexual references Word count: 2,096

When you wake, your body still feels him.

The morning burns, seeping through the linen of your curtains to cast irregular shadows on the walls, adding to the difference of the day. This moment, this new outlook on life  is different - not bad, not good, just different.  Irrevocably changed by hands that have somehow learned to hold you. Beneath the sheets, your body feels warm, handled in a way you forgot was possible. Lately, men have kissed at you, curled around you either too much or too little - wanting you, all the while reminding you that you are unneeded.

Last night, Chanyeol touched you, felt you, pressed himself against and inside you deep enough, hard enough, that he lingers now as an enduring echo. Your skin tingles with him, with the press of his fingers into your hips, the shuddering breath he left against your collarbone, still making you tremble, even as the dawn urges you to let him go.

You knew it would be this way with him. You did not expect anything less.

For months, you watched him in the office, studied him and all the things he sometimes tries to hide, or does not know how to hide. He’s hard to miss - tall and laughing louder than anyone else in the room; asymmetrical with ears too big for his head and legs that bow out, but you would not fathom him any other way. He’s hard to miss, but his soul is.

In meetings, he fidgets - not because he’s bored, but because he’s created answers through and around the problem and has been told to wait. In silence, he is pensive, frowning at himself and the magnitude of his thoughts, anxious to give and give until someone allows him to receive. In work ethic, he is diligent, so unlike the noise of his personality, dedicated to correctness, to perfection, and often exhausted from the pressure of achieving both.

And he’s beautiful - too beautiful to truly perceive, wearing his complexities as though they are badges of honor and too self-aware to truly be proud. On him, proud is a pretense, the knowledge that he can and will win, but unsure if he truly deserves the prize. On him, pride is empty, shallow, and presented only because someone told him it should.

For months, you watched him, eyes tracing his but never truly meeting.

For months, you watched him, and only with four drinks in your blood were you able to tell him this was so.

But now, as the memories of the night before flood - the way he spread your thighs, groaning that he was hard enough to hurt for you; the way he licked at your center, thirsty for the clench of your walls against his tongue; the way he thrust into you, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep your chest on his, desperate for your heart - you did not expect him to stay. At the sight of him beside you, wetness grows at your core, remembering how it felt to be full of him. You crave him there again, stretched full and showing him just how powerful you are when the sun gives you wings, and know that sex and lust feel different when light does not let you hide.

You crave him there, but he may not crave you.

People don’t want you this way. Not enough to take their time and certainly not enough to stay. You are a transient thing, someone who experiences sex as though it is an eclipse, and watches bodies move towards and away from your body. If you’re honest, you’ve grown accustomed to being the moon, with waxing and waning against someone’s orbit until they no longer look to see if you are full. You are comfortable and you’ve accepted it.

Everyone has a season, and yours glimmers just like gold.

Turning over in the bed, your cover yourself up to your neck with the sheets, and watch the mess of his hair shiver gently against your pillow with the rhythm of his breath. In the sunlight, he is glorious and glowing, seemingly unaware of the control he has over your heart, aloof in all the ways you find endearing. It’s hard to know when you fell or how for him, somewhen in the days spent watching and waiting, suddenly no longer being able to discern the difference between the two. It only matters that you did, that you have, and that it’s important you remind yourself you are not unworthy.

It doesn’t make sense that he should be different, someone whose hardness contrasts so harshly with your softness; someone who grows muscle, and not marks. Someone who cannot wear his clothes in the morning or appear small beneath the fabric of a hoodie; someone whose breasts only just fit in the palm of his hand and remind him that he is large only because you let yourself see him this way. It doesn’t make sense, but the world has never truly been comprised of logic or motive, only of actions that bleed into reactions, an endless course of collisions that birth new modes being.

Today, you think you are majestic.

Today, you know you are the only one who could properly hold the totality of him.

Today, you are aware that you deserve someone who hungers for the totality of you.

And so you pull yourself away from him, letting your fingers card through his hair one last time, knowing that you do not need this to remember only that you want it and are letting yourself have it. You pull away and head for your shower, knowing that the pressure of water against tile is enough to rouse anyone from slumber, and this is his opportunity to leave and still offer your dignity.

The hardwood is cold against your toes, and you take the top blanket with you, covering your body as you quietly make your way to the bathroom. Leaning out to check on the bed, you find he has not moved from the slight change in temperature, content as though the side of the bed belongs to him alone.

Shutting the door and turning the shower on, you regard yourself in the mirror as you let the water get warm.

You are not unpretty.

In truth, there is no one on earth who could not, would not, be beautiful. Beauty is an indeterminate thing, an impossible thing to hold and something that often comes down to actions. It speaks for itself, in bounds, and while you are not, and will not ever be small, slim, conventional, you are full, and joyful, and welcoming. The heart in your chest speaks in the sound of your voice and you are glad you let yourself be heard, though often you wonder who it is that listens.

You are not unpretty. And you are not unworthy.

You are magic and power and fortitude, a reckoning force that creates what you choose to make and this is why you are deserving. It is not for him to choose you, you tell yourself, only for him to learn to receive.

Stepping into the shower, you smile and sigh.

Beneath the warm flow of water, you let yourself get drenched.

By thoughts. By the way the light can change things. By the impatience that comes with waiting for answers.

Light changes things - this is your primary thought. Light makes things glow, bloom, shine; but it also exposes. It sears its way into corners that cower away, neither ugly nor foul, simply raw. In the dark, where all things are equal, it is easy to take what you have earned. And in the light, it is easy to say you do not want it because it hurts.

The light plays with you like this, and you think you are best in the full rays of the sun.

The light plays with you, and you are glad for the power of choosing how you gleam.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the door opening, the shuffling of feet against the tile muffled beneath the sound of water. His shadow lingers behind the glass, shifting from foot to foot, uncertain, before sliding it open and greeting you with a smile.

Eyes still bleary with sleep, he offers you a small, boyish smile as he steps inside. He’s awkward with the placement of his limbs in the small space, and for a moment you giggle, never having had someone with such a wingspan shower with you. For a long moment, you simply look at him, marveling at how he holds your stare, unhurried for the rest of you the way so many partners are. He luxuriates in seeing you, smiling at you, stepping closer until he pulls you to his chest and rests his forehead against yours, contented by the bliss of your touch.

‘I was lonely when I woke up,’ he murmurs, lips moving against the tip of your nose. ‘You should have told me you were going.’

It’s difficult not to giggle at the pout that tugs on his expression, softening his cheeks and lips until your skin hurts from not touching his face. Sliding your fingers up his arms, you watch the way your hands leave smears of wetness against his veins and tattoos, mystified.

‘Did you sleep okay?’ It’s an absentminded question, even though you mean it. Permission has been granted to lose yourself in him, and you choose to savor feel of his palms against your back.

How odd, you think, to truly, finally be held. How odd, and how extraordinary.

He nods against you momentarily before stepping back to grab your shampoo. ‘Best I’ve had in ages, to be honest.’

Gently, he turns you in his hands, and you hear him gather some shampoo in his palms before his fingers move through your hair. Electricity walks down your spine, sending spark along your synapses that make your toes feel numb. It’s hard to say if you’ve ever been taken care of this way, if you’ve ever let yourself be nurtured, but he takes to it with as much diligence as anything you’ve seen him passionate about, and you bite the inside of your cheek to fight off words of thanks.

You deserve to be treasured this way, you think. It’s just impossible to believe it would be him.

Silence befalls you both as he continues to wash your hair, shaping the strands into irregular objects just to make you laugh. Frenetic as he is, it’s not long until he begins to hum, an unidentifiable arrangement born of pleasure overflowing from his chest and washing over you like honey. You could die this way, you think, wrapped in ecstasy and held by hope.

But then, with a reverence that borders on paradise, he moves your hair from your shoulder and gently, lightly, presses a kiss to your neck. You lean into it, hands seeking his as his arms wrap around your waist, certain that you will slip, weakened by the affection. Running his nose along your skin, he sighs, kissing what he can until he reaches your ear.

‘You’ve got a cute butt.’

Laughter erupts from your chest, body molding to liquid fire as you turn to face him.

All boldness disappears from his features as a blush stains his cheeks, teeth coming to bite his bottom lip in shyness. Blinking away water, unsure of the reality, you gently reach a hand to cup his cheek, and sigh as it’s his turn to lean into you, both of you feeling exposed.

‘You make me feel vulnerable,’ you admit, surprised that your voice does not shake.

‘I mean…’ he begins, voice trailing off into the distance. He pauses momentarily, idly shifting to press a kiss to your palm before he continues. ‘Me too.’

Stepping closer, you wrap your arm around his waist, trailing your fingers over his spine. ‘Why did you stay?’

Chanyeol pouts. ‘Did you want me to leave?’

‘No,’ you shake your head, shrugging. ‘I just didn’t know what you wanted.’

Moving to hold your face in his hands, he presses a light kiss to your forehead, nose, and lips. It’s brief, altogether too chaste for the way his mouth explored your folds the night before, but it’s enough to know he’s serious.

‘I want you,’ he says, firmly, searching your eyes for slivers of rejection. ‘I’ve wanted you. I wanted to stay.’

‘I want you to stay, too.’

Today, you think, this is enough.

You are always enough.

#chanyeol x reader #chanyeol smut #exosnet #kpopwonderlandtag #kwriterskollection #prettyboysnetwork #chanyeol au #chanyeol fic #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol scenario #exo smut #exo au #exo scenario #park chanyeol

[lettersofsky]

An Agreement

Ok, so I have two characters that I’ve been fleshing out and developing on their own and decided to try writing them together as they’re supposed to be for once! So I wrote something to try playing around with the two of them and another of my characters in a fun little thing to actually get myself back into writing. Especially to make myself try to describe characters more as I write them which I’m pretty awful at XD

Mihal, Duelek and Orrin are all mine This is a kind of mythical creature/monster au of sorts! Mihal and Duelek are both kinda finned snake people things. Enjoy!

Ko-Fi

~

“Ya shouldn’ta bothered with ‘im.”

“He needed help though.”

“Ain’t no problem a ours none.”

“I be known but still… ain’t wanted ta leave him out there like that.”

“Woulda been his own fault.”

Orrin groaned, alerting the two arguing voices to the fact that he was returning to consciousness from the empty darkness of rest accompanied by a vicious pounding in his skull. He lifted his hand to his glass-covered clenched shut eyes, trying to further shade and protect them from the weak spring sun above him trying to pierce into his skull aided by the lenses that usually assisted him in the task of perceiving the world around him, only to find his path blocked by a different pair of hands, cold and wet and… off in a way he couldn’t quite make sense of.

“Ya real shouldn’t be touchin ‘im.”

“Hush yaself,” the snap was soft, distracted and from somewhere directly over Orrin’s face, contrasting the rougher voice that sounded a bit further away. Then there’s an odd cooing accompanied by the feeling of thumbs rubbing the skin of his cheeks, nails of some kind as well. “He’s needin help, we should be givin it.”

“I tried.”

“I said hush,” a sharp edge entered the voice above his head and Orrin flinched ever so slightly, drawing attention back to himself and a shadow over his face. “Ya alright?”

“I… do not believe so,” he groaned again, blue eyes squinting open so he could see exactly who was above him. “My head feels—” He cut himself off as the individual shading him from the shadow over his face came into focus.

A human face, skin dark in colour than Orrin himself was, if not for the purple scales lining it, settled around eyes that were dark and empty similar to that of a snake and fanning across sharp cheeks and their forehead leading into long, dark brown water-soaked curls. There were a set of fins to either side of the face above him, fluttering and fanning out in rapidly increasing motions.

This certainly wasn’t a human.

The creature drew it’s hands back towards itself at Orrin’s silence and inspection, curved fangs biting into it’s bottom lip as Orrin looked to them itself of the face over his. While humanoid at a glance it was obviously that instead of fingers it had claws, each one ended in a chipped nail far longer than any Orrin had ever seen before and covered completely in scales in every shade of purple from the elbow to the joint of it’s fingers.

“Told ya ya was better off leavin ‘im be.” The voice comes from somewhere behind the individual over Orrin and it turns back to hiss at the other voice, a short, low sound reminiscent of an annoyed or irritated snake.

“Shut up!” The fins on the side of it’s head flared out in a striking contrast of colour against the darkness of it’s hair. “S’just a little scared, s’all.”

“Scared and gonna tell people ‘bout this shit.” The other shot back, sounding much calmer than there was any right to be whilst implying that it was better to dispose of Orrin than not.

“If I could interject,” Orrin spoke around a pained noise as he forced himself to sit up, finally getting a better look at the first individual as well as his first on the other in the scenario, carefully pushing himself back from their proximity ever so slightly. The other was very similar to the first, if a bit sharper in it’s face and the sharp line of it’s shoulders, or what Orrin could see of them from where it was reclining on the shore of the nearby lake, arms folded and chin resting upon them. It’s hair was shorter than the first’s as well and closer to a black than the deep brown of the other. Both of them had long tails where their waist and legs should have been, bright scales glittering and shifting in colour tone before his eyes as they twitched and shifted gently, tipped with a pair of fins similar to those at the side of their heads.

Wholly inhuman and nothing Orrin should have ever involved himself with. Though how he had come to do so was a mystery to him.

“I will not—”

“Nah.”

“Excuse me?”

It was the other one that had spoken and cut him off, chin rested on scaled claws, nails scoring into the wet soil at the edge of the lake. It’s eyes were half-lidded, hair fallen into it’s face and remaining stuck there in clumps of water-soaked strands. It rolled empty eyes at him, lips pulling back just enough to show off rows of needle-sharp teeth.

“Ain’t caring ‘bout whatever ya have ta ‘interject’ with,” it said, tail moving lazily in the water, a blur of formless purple. It’s lips pulled back further, baring more of it’s teeth and the stark white of it’s gums. “So shut yaself ‘fore I drag ya back under.”

“… that is incredibly rude of you.”

It’s all Orrin can really think in that moment and it’s far from what he wanted to say to the thing that was threatening him. It seemed that the two of them weren’t expecting to hear anything like that either if they way they both turned to stare at him in question was to go by, fins fluttering and head tilted similarly to a dog’s.

“Tryin ta be amusin ain’t helpin ya much.”

“We can’t just be makin threats afta savin ‘im!”

“I can,” the farther one dropped further back from the inquisitive lift it’d taken up at Orrin’s words, placing it’s chin back onto it’s folded arms, peering at Orrin from the corner of it’s eye, face turned towards the other. “I didn’t save ‘im.”

“Ya can’t—!”

“What if I swear myself to silence?” Orrin questioned, cutting off the softer of the two off as he felt that things were taking a turn for the dangerous. “Swear to not saying anything about either of you to anyone? Would that be enough?”

“Shake on it.”

“He doesn’t need ta—”

“He does.” The words rung with finality and Orrin felt his heart freeze in his chest, unsure of wht exactly what the rougher of the two was suggesting entailed but not sure he liked it either way. “If he don’t then Imma drag ‘im back down. No matta what ya want.”

“But…”

“I will do it. I will shake on it.”

The two creatures turn back to him, the sharper looking pleased with his decision while the other’s face fell. His decision made Orrin chose to focus on the sharper of the two, meeting half-lidded eyes as levelly as he was able.

“Good. Go on bro, he’s wantin ta make the deal.”

The softer of the two looks between Orrin and the other, fins fluttering before they pressed close to its skull and it turned back to Orrin, face turned towards its own hands.

“Ok.” It breathed, tail stretching out as it shifted closer to Orrin, offering it’s claw towards him. “Promise not ta be speakin’ ‘bout us ta no other and shake.”

Orrin hesitated a moment, just a moment as he looked at the outstretched hand, offering his own when he heard the noticeable sound of water moving and taking it, the tone of his own skin a lighter contrast to the creature’s own.

There’s a sting, a bite where the tips of its nails sink shallow indents into Orrin’s skin, his eyes move away from the one watching the proceeding to see something like ink curl from the indents into a band at his wrist, cleanly encircling the flesh in a brand that would lead to nothing but question.

“Is that all?” That didn’t really seem to have much of any kind of purpose really, aside from the ink on his wrist that the creature holding his hand had raised his captive arm towards its face to inspect.

“S’alright,” there was an air of contentedness about the onlooker’s voice as Orrin’s hand was releasing, the creature stretching it’s torso out on the edge of the lake in a lazy sprawl. “Ain’t gone be able ta get ta chatterin with that, free ta do what ya want now.”

Orrin blinked, opened his mouth to say something only to stop as the one closest to him spoke up. “So he can stay, yeah?”

“What?” “Excuse me?”

It wilts a bit at both of their attention focused onto it, shoulders hunching up closer to the fins pressed tight to the side of it’s skull once more, voice losing volume and becoming shaky as it continued. “Iffin… Iffin he wants a course… ya said he could do whatever he wants now that he’s…” it trails off into mumbling that Orrin can’t catch and catch be sure that the onlooker didn’t.

“… suppose yeah.” Orrin’s attention snapped back to the onlooking creature who seemed uninterested in the situation once more, inspecting the nails of it’s own claws with a languid pace. “Iffin he be wantin’ ta.”

Remaining here for any length of extended time did not really sound too appealing to him, but saying so outright might be rude and he didn’t know how either would take such an abrupt and clear dismissal of his continued presence on their lakefront.

Even more so when the softer of the two turned back to him, a gleam in it’s eye and small, hopeful smile on it’s face. “Mayhaps… ya could stay a bit? S’not… S;probably s’not real good ta move too soon, yeah? Ya should stay here a bit and rest, yeah?”

“I think I should leave.”

It’s smile drops and its fins droop, arms crossing over it’s torso as blank eyes turned away from Orrin to focus on some point at the ground.

“Oh.”

“Lookit you bein all heartbreakin afta he saved ya ass, rude.”

“I am completely soaked,” Orrin continued, ignoring the cold near snarl from the water. “I more than likely have an untreated concussion and I need to go be looked over and change before I freeze to death.”

The closest of the two perks up at his words, brows furrowing and mouth twisting as it splayed it’s claws out towards him, missing Orrin’s flinch even if the further of the two creature’s didn’t, motioning him off with small, quick motions. “Ya right! Ya warm blooded ones get cold and sick from the water, ya should go, it’s bein for the best.”

“Ya just—”

“It’s for the best.” It repeats, tail stretching out more from the curl of it Orrin had yet to notice as it pressed closer towards him, putting it’s face only a scant few inches from Orrin’s own as if to inspect him better. “Ain’t wantin ta waste hard work by ya gettin sick on us, yeah? Then ya really wouldn’t come back.” It chuckles the last little add-on but it rings hollow and aching, accompanied by it’s fins fluttering and flaring away from the side of it’s head.

Orrin looked between it and the other, teeth biting into his bottom lip and considering what to do now. It would be simply enough to take the opportunity granted and leave, escape and never come back. It wasn’t as if these creatures could really come and track him down, at least he certainly hoped they wouldn’t, whatever they were.

He was free to go, free to stand up and leave the lakefront and never look back on or think about it again. It was so easy to do.

“I will… try to return when I am… able to stay longer.” Or perhaps he could put his foot into his mouth and give another promise to these creatures, as if the first hadn’t been enough to cement how awful an idea it was to do so into his head.

It brightens up the creature in front of him though and it grins at him, showing off the odd backwards curve of it’s teeth towards the back of it’s own throat.

“Then we’ll be waitin ta see ya again!” It pauses, brow furrowing at Orrin. “Ain’t real knowin’ what ta call ya.”

“Orrin,” he doesn’t mention anything about his last name and that seems to be more than enough for the creature to return to grinning at him.

“Orrin.” It repeats, the name sounding a little off on it’s vocals. “Ya can call us Mihal and Duelek, yeah? For next time.”

“I will… keep those in mind for when I return.”

#Skyee Writes #Original Work #original writing #original characters #Mihal #Duelek #Orrin Mysnia #In Regards to Making Promises to Fresh Water Naga #I enjoyed writing this! #Mihal and Duelek are fun beans that I wanna get more into writing because I love them #I'll probably do a write up of their differences in appearance at a later date

[ice-cream-beat]

9 with a platonic Rokuven? I love how you write and I need more things with them :)

ahhh thank you! I do enjoy writing these two together, it’s really fun to try and figure out how their friendship might go. :’D And super sorry for the lateness!

#09. things you said when i was crying

summary: “Just tell me,” he implored gently: “what’re you looking for?”

Roxas wavered. Axel, the rest of the Organization, the man in Twilight Town, even… even somebody else, he couldn’t remember who… They were all so busy with their own intentions and plans that they either pushed him away or strung him along, sometimes both. Naminé had been different – she gave him answers when nobody else would – but even then… When had anybody ever asked him what he wanted? [Roxas + Ventus.]

Ao3 version here

/ / / / /

“Roxas! Wait–!”

A hand closed around Roxas’ wrist and stopped him in his tracks. The grip was firm and tight – authoritative, not beseeching – but without hurting. He didn’t turn around.

“Roxas, listen,” the voice behind that hand pleaded. “Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” was Roxas’ flat, quiet reply. “Let go.”

For an immeasurable moment in time – if time even passed here – there again fell that eerie silence. The waves lapping at the shore, the breeze stirring the palm trees, the outlines of gulls soaring far overhead… none of them made a sound. They had never made a sound, not once in the undefined space of time since Roxas had found himself here. It was like a dream, except the glaring sun and sparkling sand were too bright, too sharp. The grip on his arm was too solid and real.

“C’mon, just… talk to me.” The request, though harmless, made Roxas’ temper flare again. This guy always wanted to talk. He always had something to say, something positive and cheerful and calm – but Roxas only perceived that attitude as resignation. He had given up and accepted the fate of being stuck here, idealizing some eventual mercy on Sora’s part; but while Roxas was naive in a lot of ways, he wasn’t stupid. He knew there was nobody left to trust here but himself.

Slowly, Roxas finally turned around partway, but he didn’t back down to ease the tension along their arms. The face looking back at him smiled hopefully – a face that probably should have shocked him a lot more than it had the first time he saw it, but he had never been in the habit of looking into a mirror regularly. Coming across a face identical to his own had been startling and confusing, but probably not as shell-shocking as it would have been for some people. Normal people.

But Ventus, too, was arguably far from normal. He took this place in stride, despite having been here for so long. He spoke of Sora fondly, despite admitting that he didn’t “exactly” know him, whatever that meant. And sometimes Roxas heard him talking out loud, as though in conversation with somebody, but every time he looked there was nobody else there and Ventus would give a sad smile and an awkward laugh and brush it off.

“What’re you gonna do?” Ventus pressed. “What d’you think you can do from here?”

“He’s close.” Roxas wrinkled his nose, his stare turning distant even as it stayed on Ventus. Here, he could always feel Sora, but he was always distant, like somebody just outside of speaking distance that he couldn’t reach. Now… now he was nearby. Roxas knew where he was – where they all were – he felt the chilly touch of the World That Never Was, and something about that atmosphere put Sora closer to them – or maybe they were closer to him. Roxas was certain he could reach him now, that all his anger and grief could finally go somewhere.

That remark wasn’t really an answer, but Ventus was patient. He had to be after this long. “Even if you can talk to ‘im… then what?”

Roxas’ hands curled into fists. He didn’t want to talk to Sora. Despite his silence, or maybe because of it, Ventus must have detected his intention because he frowned. Roxas turned away again, indifferent and indicating he was done with the conversation. He’d thought, at first, that Ventus would understand him – he seemed like the only one who could – but it was clear they were too different. Either Ventus was too forgiving and laidback, or he hadn’t lost enough to be angry. He couldn’t possibly have understood how Roxas felt, not with that constant, blithe cheeriness, which meant that Roxas was once again alone and taking matters into his own hands.

Get to Sora. It was the only thing he could think of. The only thing to do besides walking in circles here.

“Roxas…” Ventus tried again. “I know you’re upset, but you gotta hear me out. There’s… there’s somethin’ you’re missing. I don’t think you can see it as long as you’re mad like th–” His voice cut off with a small sound of surprise, his fingers tensing in the same second, as a flash of light and sound of metal interrupted him. Slowly, Roxas looked over his shoulder, the Keyblade in his right hand staying low at his side.

“Let. Go.” It wasn’t up for debate.

Ventus met his gaze with an uncertain, concerned one – but it quickly hardened as his frown deepened. “No.”

Why… Why does everybody try to tell me what to do–

In a swift and sudden motion Roxas pivoted around and wrenched his arm free of Ventus’ grasp, his second Keyblade flashing into his hand. With nothing short of a fighter’s instinct Ventus retreated a couple steps with a solemn glare, shifting his stance and reaching out to the side to summon his own weapon – but he didn’t. Instead his attention was drawn to the latter of Roxas’ Keyblades, and something about it seemed to give him pause. He stared at the white blade, confused and thoughtful – and as odd as that was, Roxas was out of patience. He didn’t ask for an explanation; he didn’t want one.

“I’m going,” he repeated in a snap. “I don’t care who – or what you are. Don’t get in my way.”

That drew Ventus’ stare back to his face, and for a long, uncertain moment neither of them moved. Then, finally, Ventus straightened up again into his usual easy posture, but his head twitched towards his right shoulder and he glanced aside, as if listening to something behind him. After another few seconds he turned to Roxas fully, but not before stealing a glimpse at each Keyblade one more time.

“Okay…” He was quiet. Roxas wasn’t sure whether the remark was meant for him or just a thought spoken aloud. “Maybe… it’s the only way,” Ventus murmured. He sounded… sad. And the next look he gave Roxas matched the tone, although there was something resigned in it. “Just tell me,” he implored gently: “what’re you looking for?”

Roxas wavered. Axel, the rest of the Organization, the man in Twilight Town, even… even somebody else, he couldn’t remember who… They were all so busy with their own intentions and plans that they either pushed him away or strung him along, sometimes both. Naminé had been different – she gave him answers when nobody else would – but even then… When had anybody ever asked him what he wanted?

More importantly… what did he want, really?

“…Anything,” he answered quietly, gruffly. “Answers. Proof that… he’s the right one.”

“The right one…?”

Roxas gave a sharp, stiff nod. “He was chosen. Not me. I need… I need to know why.” His fingers tightened around his hilts until his palms stung. “That’s the very least he can do for me.”

“Roxas – you gotta ask yourself, what’s really most important to you?” Ventus challenged suddenly. “Isn’t there somethin’ else? Somethin’ that matters more than answers?”

Something… else? What kind of question was that?

“No,” Roxas answered, but his doubt showed. “Why would there be? What d’you know? You don’t know me.”

“I don’t,” Ventus agreed, “but somebody else does. Somebody who’s worried about you.” As he spoke, the air around him seemed to shimmer and bend slightly. Behind him, something dark – a shadow, about as tall as he was – blinked into view, but when Roxas tried to look at it directly, it disappeared. “You gotta try and remember,” Ventus was saying. “I know you haven’t lost it. Nobody would lose memories that important–”

“Enough!”

Ventus was no better than the others. Claiming to care but talking in vague terms, refusing to be straight with him… Roxas was done with it. All of it. He spun around and tore off down the beach, kicking up sand as he went. He didn’t look back to see if Ventus tried to grab him again, but he could already tell he wasn’t following.

As he approached the end of the shore, the point at which he would have to turn the corner and take the door through that wooden structure, the colors around him started to fade: the sky, the sand, the water, it all slipped into a grey hue that continued to darken, until he was finally running through an empty blackness.

Still that pull on his heart remained. He kept running, trusting it to take him where he wanted to go.

* * *

Ven continued to stare down the beach long after Roxas was gone. No, “gone” wasn’t right – he was still close. Ven could still feel him. He was just elsewhere.

“You sure that was the right thing?” he wondered. “I could’ve stopped him.”

“I don’t think you could have.” Soft footsteps crunched gently over the sand until the second presence stepped up beside him. “Not without the two of you getting hurt… and he’d just look for another opportunity, anyway.”

Ven hummed unhappily. “But Sora…”

“He’ll be okay.” That was said with a smile. “They both will. Roxas knows who he is, deep down… I think that’s the real ‘answer’ he’s looking for.”

“Huh… You know ‘im really well, don’t you?”

“Mm. But I also know what he’s going through.” There was a pause. “Ven… I’m sorry for asking so much of you. But if he never remembers–”

“I’m sure he will,” said Ven resolutely. “I bet it’s just like you said: he just has to work through everything he’s feeling first.”

That prompted a nod. “I hope so. But… if that isn’t the case… and you’re still the only one who can see me… Roxas is going to need a friend.”

For another moment neither of them spoke. Then Ven nodded with an affirmative sound. “Right. I’ll help him out.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

When Roxas returned, he found the brightness of the beach was no longer blinding. This time he felt the touch of the sun’s rays on his face and neck – not hot, but warm. Welcoming.

Ventus descended on him in a heartbeat, bolting across the sand to slide to a halt in front of him. “Roxas! What–” He stopped short, staring wide-eyed at Roxas’ face – and the small half-smile it wore. “Roxas…?”

“It’s okay.” Turning to look out over the waters, Roxas realized he had never really taken them in. He hadn’t appreciated the splash of cheerful color that the World That Never Was had lacked; he hadn’t really considered what a change in tone it was from the perpetual, sleepy sunset of Twilight Town. He liked both. “I get it now.”

“What happened?” asked Ventus cautiously. “Did you actually meet him?”

“Yeah…” Roxas thought back for a moment to what had transpired: a brutal and angry confrontation that had seemed to both last forever and end in an instant. Only a handful of words, all of which had only meant anything to himself. And a fight that he didn’t mind having lost. “It wasn’t what I expected,” he admitted.

“So… did you find what you were looking for? Answers?”

Roxas hesitated, and then looked back to Ventus as he nodded lightly. “Yeah, actually. I did.” It was all right now. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t sad, that he didn’t miss Axel or still sting inside from how fast his life had gone downhill to land him here… but that dark, crushing weight in his chest was gone. He no longer felt like he needed to lash out. He no longer felt angry. Maybe that was why this beach seemed so much clearer to him now. Maybe his feelings – because that’s what they were, he felt things, Nobody or not, heart or not – maybe they had blinded him before. And now…

Now he could see.

He started to say something else to Ventus, but stopped when he noticed something behind him. Doing a double-take, Roxas realized it was a second figure. Standing further back, dressed in the same black coat as himself, hands folded in front of her hips as she watched and waited as though she had been there the whole time–

Roxas stared. Ventus picked up on it, followed his gaze, and then quickly stepped back and out of the way with a small, knowing smile of his own. Roxas barely noticed him, because he was busy wondering why his chest ached and his eyes began to sting as he went on watching the strange girl, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar…

The gentle touch on his back nearly made him jump. He heard Ventus speak just behind his shoulder. “Aren’t you gonna say hi? It’s been awhile since you’ve seen her.”

“Wh…” Roxas had to swallow and try again. His throat felt thick, and the lump in the middle of it made his voice come out deeper than usual. “Who is…?”

“She’s one of your best friends, right?”

The girl smiled at that, but it looked like an uncertain expression. She otherwise didn’t budge, and her eyes stayed on Roxas.

“My best…?” Roxas echoed, his voice hushed now. A strange sensation shot up through his neck, his skull, and into his temples, making him stumble forward as he expected to be hit with pain – but instead it was only warmth, gentle and comforting but also tinged with grief, and with it came words and voices, pictures and sounds and…

Her.

Blanks that he hadn’t even realized were blanks – they began to fill in, nearly overwhelming him, but he felt Ventus’ firm hand on his bicep, holding him up – but it did nothing for the strange pounding in his ears, his chest, or the hot, wet tracks that ran unbidden down his face. There was no stopping any of that.

Roxas tried to speak, but only managed a shuddering breath. He swallowed again, hard. “Xi… Xion!” He forced his dizzy head up, blinking through blurry eyes, and found her standing directly in front of him. She, too, had tears on her face and a tremble in her shoulders – but she smiled through every second of it.

“Roxas…”

He had forgotten her. Even after remembering so much… he had forgotten all about her and hadn’t even realized it. That was the only thing that made him pause right then, that kept him from rushing forward to try and make it up to her. How could he possibly have forgotten her, one of his best…? What kind of person – what kind of friend would…

“Roxas.” Ventus this time. He leaned in to catch Roxas’ eye, still holding his arm. Still smiling. Despite always having something to say, now he was silent – but it was fitting, somehow. Roxas took more simple strength from that hand on his arm, more reassurance from that gaze, than he probably could have from any positive or encouraging thing Ventus might have said right then. For the first time since meeting him, Roxas suddenly wondered if Ventus did understand him, at least a little. Or maybe even more than that.

He looked at Xion again, who was still watching him, and waiting, as she must have done for a long time now. Not alone, thanks to Ventus, but still without her best friends. Still forgotten.

Roxas wasn’t sure what pushed him to the gesture – he certainly hadn’t been familiar with it during his time in the Organization; maybe it was some fragment of his fake, broken memories. Maybe it was something else. He didn’t stop to think or even care – the only thing that seemed right in that moment was to stagger forward and clumsily throw his arms around her. She was solid and warm. She was real.

He felt her return the hug tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“You remember…”

#he mad #poor smol angry child and poor smol light child trying to calm down smol angry child #i didn't really intend to have so much of a third character there bUT #when it adds to the sad W H Y N O T #fanfic #mine #roxas #ventus #kingdom hearts #and yeah i am #stupidly late in getting this up i'm sorry #rl's usually chill until i decide to take requests #then it goes N O P E U GOTTA BE BUSY K