#I would have made a silly caption for the last image but all I really know about ultrakill is the gameplay and mipexch's stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neoculturetravesty · 3 years

Text

We met in online class - Part 4

Image taken from here. Originally had this image in mind but Tumblr won’t let me upload it.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

It’s funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. You don’t realize you have a new favorite word till someone points out you’ve been using it so much. You don’t realize you’re addicted to caffeine till you get headaches from withdrawals. You don’t realize you can’t live without dessert till the sugar crash hits. And in the same way, Renjun didn’t realize he had gotten used to your company till he’s waiting outside your lecture hall with an almost expectant inclination to see you.

A lot of it had to do with who you were as a person. You had pretty much infiltrated Renjun’s life, even though he still kept you at an arm’s distance. One day, he had walked into the library and found you with Jaemin, while the two of you had your heads together over a laptop and a huge gift basket in the making on the table. Jaemin wasn’t the kind of person who invited a lot of new people into his life; so he must have really trusted you because it wasn’t the last time Renjun saw the two of you together.

But worse than Jaemin was Donghyuck. Renjun was pretty sure that since you’d asked him out, you had probably hung out more with Donghyuck than with him. Almost as if seeing Renjun was just an excuse for you to hang out with him, as you had often joked. It was as if the two of you were kindred spirits, long lost best friends who had finally found one another. Donghyuck would invite you everywhere, get up to no good with you in tow; and before Renjun knew it, the two of you were even planning parties together. Neither Donghyuck nor you needed Renjun as an excuse to hang out with one another anymore, and it amused him. A part of him wondered if Donghyuck was playing along to help his bigger cause. But his friend always looked so genuinely happy around you that any ulterior motive he might have seemed to have been forgotten.

“Why can’t the sun always be like this?” you said as you laid on the grass using your backpack as a pillow. Your hand was reaching out over your face, your fingers wiggling as you played with shadows.

While you soaked in the sun, Renjun chose to sit under the shade of a tree, sketching away in his book, completing his assignment before his next class.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it as much if it were always like this.” Renjun replies, not looking away from his work. He much preferred paint over charcoal, but he had to admit that the scratching sounds it made against the grains of paper--coupled with the chirping of birds and gentle ruffling of leaves around him--was really relaxing. As was your company.

“Hmm. But it’s still nice to see it without fine dust couture. I like seeing it fully in the nude.” you say, a soft, funny smile on your face while your eyelashes cast shadows on your cheeks.

“Pervert.” Renjun accuses, smiling as he drew. It just makes you laugh and lay sideways to face him. You prop up your head on your hand.

“I’m the sun, Huang Renjun. Now draw me like one of your French girls.” you say in a comical voice and Renjun actually laughs without reservation.

“Do you have any more classes?” he asks, fixing his black and gold rimmed glasses over his nose.

“Nope. I’m done for the day. Yeri’s supposed to pick me up, so I’m just waiting for her call.” you say, rolling onto your back once more, resuming your dance with the shadows.

Renjun hums a reply as he sketches, but really, he’s thinking that he hadn’t formally met Yeri. At least not yet. He had just had two very awkward run-ins with her the couple of times he had been to your apartment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been to your place since that last time. And you had never been to his place at all.

It wasn’t on accident, though. All of it had been by Renjun’s really convoluted design. He had met a few of your friends on campus in the passing, sure. But you were more a part of his life that he was yours. That is exactly what Renjun had planned. Lately, however, that plan seemed to be fading away into the ether. Slowly but surely dispersing from memory till it was more or less abandoned.

Because Renjun did not realize that he had adopted you like a habit. Any time he saw a witty meme, he had to send it your way because you would text back with an equally witty reply that scratched Renjun’s intellectual itch. Any time Jisung would bring home a baguette, he would take a picture for you with a caption like ‘Francophile life going strong’. The two of you had even developed a silly game where you would look at different marketing taglines and wonder if it would still work to sell condoms.

‘Nike. Just do it.’ Renjun had once texted.

‘That is a low hanging fruit, Huang Renjun.’ you had replied.

‘Okay, true. But how about Imax: Thing big.’ he had texted back.

‘Hmm, almost but not quite. I need something stronger.’

‘BMW: Designed for driving pleasure.’ he had actually found himself scrolling through a long list of taglines while his assignment laid forgotten.

‘Oof. Now you’ve found the sweet spot. Keep going.’ Renjun had smiled at your reply and had found himself hurriedly looking for something better.

‘Geico: So easy, a caveman could do it.’

‘Mmm, didn’t think you were a kinky boy, Huang Renjun. Go on…”

Renjun had actually laughed out loud, making Jisung look up at him quizzically and replied ‘1010 Wins: you give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

‘Yessss! Right there, right there!’

Renjun hadn’t even realized he was grinning wide and standing up from his desk, a list of taglines open both on his laptop and his phone while he scrolled to find the perfect response that would make you happy. ‘Rice Krispies: Snap! Crackle! Pop!’

‘So close, so close, I am almost there!’

‘Washington Post: Democracy dies in darkness.’

‘THAT’S IT, THAT DID IT, THAT HIT THE SPOT!’

Renjun had actually belly laughed at the entire conversation. He didn’t remember the last time he had laughed this way because even Jisung was looking at him with an amused smile, asking “What’s so funny?”

So yes, Renjun had adopted you like a habit. But it wasn’t just through text. When you weren’t the one waiting for him on campus with a couple of cups of coffee in hand, he found he would go looking for you. You would spend all your free time together, just like this. He would find himself missing you on days he didn’t get to see you. He found himself disappointed when you didn’t have time for him because you and Donghyuck were on a very important mission or you had to meet your friends or you had extra work that was demanding your attention. You had just inserted yourself in his life in such a manner that Renjun didn’t even notice.

Perhaps you had nothing to do with it, but Renjun’s life had been treating him pretty well, too. Maybe he was more inspired these days, because his work was getting better and his professors were noticing. His painting instructor had held him back after class one day and offered him an internship at his studio. While it wasn’t huge, it was enough that Renjun had thrown his fist in the air in celebration as soon as he had left class. And you were the first person he texted and he was glad he did because you had texted back a freakout that made him grin like an idiot. You had come to see him as soon as your own class had ended and you had flung yourself in his arms and had jumped around excitedly before dragging him along so you could buy him an artist’s apron as a present.

“Do you have any more classes?” you ask him as you stare at the evening sun through your fingers.

Renjun’s about to reply when he is interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and sit up, telling Renjun “Hold on…” before answering it. “Are you here, Yeri?”

Renjun goes back to scratching away in his pad, thinking. Maybe he should introduce himself now when Yeri comes to pick you. But what would he say? ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s friend?’ Everyone on campus knew that the two of you weren’t exactly just friends. It was thanks to your stunt during that one online class, where he’d met you. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend?’ But he wasn’t that, either. While the two of you had become pretty comfortable in each other’s company, you hadn’t really done anything, or had any serious talk about what you were. You two always found yourself tiptoeing “the line”. Actually, no. It was Renjun that tiptoed that line. After his two failed attempts to kiss you, the conversation had just not taken that turn ever again. You two hadn’t leveled up on the PDA front, either. Sure, you had cuddled into him in the back of the cab that one night, and he had half-carried you to your apartment till Yeri took you from the doorstep. But you didn’t seem to remember any of it, so it was basically back to square one. Sure, you had hugged him in joy when he had gotten the internship, but did it really count when the two of you hadn’t even held hands yet? Aside from the innuendo-filled condom tagline talk, the two of you hadn’t really done anything that would constitute as… something a couple might do.

“Okay, but how long would it take?” you’re saying into the phone, a gentle crease growing between your eyebrows. Whatever you heard back must have been distasteful because you grimace. “Okayyyy, Yeri, I’m hanging up now!” you say pointedly and groan, laying back into the grass.

Renjun chuckles “All good?”

“Yeri has brought home a ‘distraction’.” you say, making air quotes, and a face like you’ve tasted something sour. “I’m banished from my own home for the evening.”

Renjun looks up.

He thinks about his next words carefully. “Um… what are you gonna do?”

You groan once more and say “I’m probably going to crash at Lia’s till my exile is over. So inconvenient!”

“You could come over to mine.”

Renjun didn’t know how it happened, how he found the courage to think it and then actually say it out loud, but now there’s no going back because the two of you are walking down the hallway to his place. He doesn’t know why, but his throat is a little dry and he peeks over his shoulder to see that you seem a bit nervous as well. He takes a deep breath and decides to break the tension.

“Here we are.” He says as he punches in the code. He holds the door open “Hello, MTV. Welcome to my crib.”

It works because it makes you smile. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

“Mhmm, but I hope to God my roommates have at least attempted to clean it up some, because I did text them a head’s up.”

“Lead the way, Huang Renjun.” you say and he does. He walks you into his living room where Jisung is currently sitting, playing video games. The smell of something delicious makes his head turn towards the kitchen where he finds Jaemin.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls out then wipes his hands on a towel before coming in to give you a hug.

“Hi, Y/N!” Jisung says without looking up.

Renjun is amused and a little confused. Perhaps you and Jaemin got even closer while he wasn’t noticing, but Jisung? When had the two of you met? By the looks of it, Jisung was comfortable enough with you that he wasn’t even minding his manners and greeting you properly. Probably because he was too busy dwindling his thumbs on his controller furiously.

“Damn, Jisung, you’re really going at it, huh?” you say to him easily.

“Mhmm. I would’ve been doing even better if Jaemin hadn’t interrupted and kicked me out of my own room because you were coming over.”

There is a two second silence before Jisung’s audience of three begins talking at the same time.

“Jisung!” Renjun yelps, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, no, we aren’t going to like… do anything--” you find yourself explaining at the same time, face heating up.

“Jisungieeee!” Jaemin also sings out to scold, yet he grins as he mock-chokes the boy.

“You are so dead.” Renjun gives the back of Jisung’s head a death stare.

“Nooo, our Jisungie means well, don’t you, Jisungie?” Jaemin coos while Jisung dodges his kisses.

Renjun shakes his head and places a hand to your arm to guide you along. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve made food if you crazy kids get hungry!” Jaemin calls after you and it’s the most animated he’s been in a while.

His friends being, well, his friends was probably worth it because Renjun is feeling a lot better as he brings you into his room. It had been a while since he had brought a girl over and looking about, he can tell that his mates did a good job at hastily cleaning it.

“Damn, Huang Renjun. You’re a clean boy.” you’re saying as you look about. “I thought you’d be the artfully messy type.”

Renjun grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. “We can mess it up together if you’d like.” But Renjun mentally smacks himself in the head as soon as the words leave his mouth because you’ve looked up at him and quickly looked away, muttering something awkwardly.

“I… I didn’t mean that. I just meant with like, paint and, like…” Renjun blows air out of his mouth and then your eyes meet. Before you know it, you both are giggling at each other because the awkwardness is probably making you a bit delirious.

Renjun watches as you take a deep breath to stop the giggles and turn to start looking around. “Oooh. Mr. Fancypants is a tea connoisseur.” you say as you run your hands over his teabag display box.

Renjun chuckles “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Sure. Let’s have tea, Mr. Fancypants.” you take a seat on his wheelie chair and your eyes go to the artist’s apron you had bought him that is currently hanging on an easel. You give it a fond smile.

“What flavor would you like?” Renjun asks as he puts the kettle on and sets up two mugs.

“Umm… I don’t know tea. I’m a coffee drinker.” you reply, your fingers tracing over the pictures he had at his desk.

“I’ll make you a simple chamomile, then. I’ve seen you and Jaemin enabling each other’s coffee habits and I don’t approve.” he knots his eyebrows.

“Oh no, no, no. Jaemin is on a different level. I took a sip of his coffee by mistake once and my entire life flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if that boy drinks coffee or straight up cocaine.”

Renjun bites his smile because he’s still holding onto the look of disapproval. “That would explain the random spikes and falls in his energy.” he says as he pours out the water in the mugs and seeps the teabags. “Here you go.” he sets your mug on the desk and takes a seat on his bed.

You take a sip “So, which one is your bunk?”

“Top.” Renjun also wants to make an innuendo but he stops himself because the awkwardness surrounding the fact that you and him are alone in his room has only just subsided with the tea.

“Isn’t the bottom bunk more comfortable?” you muse as you drink. You seem to be enjoying your tea because you haven’t set it aside yet.

“Of course it is. It’s why Jisung has it.” he comments, cocking his eyebrow. “And I sleep here on this bed.” He pats where he’s sat.

You grin as you sip then quickly wipe your chin as some tea spills through your smile. “Where do you keep all your paintings?”

“In the studio. On that top bunk. Behind that door. At my grandma’s house.” he lists off on his fingers.

“Why behind the door? If I had your talent, I’d basically cover every bit of my wall in my art. Like the most egomaniacal artist in the world.” you fantasize, looking up at the ceiling.

Renjun chuckles. “I kinda like my space to be a bit cleaner, you know? Because I’m always around art. It kinda helps with my imagination, having a clean environment. It’s almost like a clean canvas.”

“Interesting.” you’ve said and it sounds like you genuinely mean it. “It’s still a bit sad. All the work you’ve created should have a home. It shouldn't be hidden away behind doors or on top bunks.”

“You can give some of them a home if you’d like. If you have space, I mean.” Renjun gives you a fond look. You haven’t replied but you’ve set your mug down and looked at him with a very tender look in your eyes. You stand up.

“I wanna see your bed.”

Renjun grins. “Be my guest.”

“Ooooh.” you make an excited squeal, almost like you're about to enter Dexter’s Laboratory. You plop yourself on it and bounce up and down, almost as if to check the pliability of it.

“So this is where the magic happens.” you giggle and then Renjun finds your gaze moving to a picture frame on his headboard. “Is that your grandma?”

“It is.” Renjun smiles as he watches you pick your feet up and make yourself comfortable.

“She looks exactly like you.” you say, looking back at him with an affectionate look.

“A lot of people say that. People in school used to think I’m adopted because I looked nothing like my parents.” Renjun scoots back to sit next to you.

“Are you close to your parents?” you ask gently, looking at him.

Renjun looks away.

The two of you hadn’t had that many deep conversations. And anytime you did, he had found a way around it so that nothing was shared, nothing was learnt.

But no one had ever asked him that… not in so many words. He finds himself shrugging and responding before he can stop himself. “Nah. They don’t even talk to me. They’ve never really cared.”

“How do you know that, Renjun?” you’re asking him in a very soft voice. The kind of voice that has Renjun sharing more than he wants.

“They pretty much abandoned me very young,” Renjun laughs ironically. “They would fight all the time, you know? Like, they really would go at each other one moment then make up the next moment. They kind of forgot they had a son.” Renjun finds himself saying while his eyes fixate on a loose thread on Jisung’s bedsheet. He realizes he’s warm and comfortable and that’s when he notices that you’ve put an arm around him.

“That must have been so hard, to go through that.” you’re speaking to him so softly and your head and your body is angled towards him, giving him all your attention while Renjun talks into the abyss.

“They were just like… kinda dysfunctional, you know? They fought like crazy and I had to hide away so I wouldn’t hear them. And then the next day, they’d be in each other’s arms like nothing happened. They would pretend like everything was all right. Like the trauma they gave me meant nothing.”

You’re not speaking anymore, only listening. Your hand around him has started to gently stroke his arm. Your other hand softly combs through his hair.

“It was such a vicious cycle and they wouldn’t stop. I think they were kinda addicted to it. They would’ve been happy living like that with each other if it weren’t for me.” He had never shared so much with anyone. But now that he had started, it was difficult to stop.

“Renjun…” you say empathetically and pull him into you. Renjun pauses for a moment, but decides to give in. What did it matter, anyway? He rests his head on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for my grandma, I wouldn’t even be alive, you know? She saved me from all of that and took me in. She raised me. It wasn’t even her responsibility, but she raised me.”

You are holding him to you and soothingly stroking his hair when you say “Then I think your grandma is the luckiest person in this world. Because she got to see you grow up to be such a good man.”

Renjun feels a lump in his throat grow and before he knows it, there are tears stinging in his eyes. You turn your head and press a kiss into his temple and slowly rock him. It was odd, being here like this, because Renjun realizes that this was the first time you had kissed him. But more than anything else, it was the first time someone had held him like this.

The last time he remembered being held was probably when he was a child, and it had been his grandma. No one since had held him in their arms to listen to him, to comfort him, to love him without any conditions. No one had tried to take his pain away without wanting something in return. The thought puts more tears in his eyes and he finds himself leaning his weight into you.

He allows you to hold him and comfort him and coo at him. You’re speaking to him gently but Renjun isn’t hearing your words. He’s only concentrating on the soothing sound of your voice and how melodic it is. He liked hearing you talk. He’s concentrating on how you’re rocking him, and how the movement is slowly lulling him. He liked how warm and soft you were and how protective your arms were. He liked the smell of chamomile on your breath. Had you enjoyed chamomile? He thought you had. Maybe you would’ve enjoyed a different flavor more. Renjun decides he should make you an Earl Grey next time; it would probably be better suited to your caffeine tastes. Maybe you wouldn’t like Earl Grey as much either, but it would be nice to discover that bit about you. He’d make you try all the flavors till he learnt which one your favorite was.

“How come I never saw your cat?” He asks sleepily after you’ve been quiet for a while.

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“Your cat. Galbi. How come I didn’t see him when I came over?” Renjun can feel your smile against his temple.

“Oh. Yeri had dropped him over at the vet’s that day. Do you want to meet him?” you ask him.

“Yeah, it would be nice to meet him.” Renjun says and brings an arm up to cuddle closer into you.

“Okay. Next time you come over, you can meet him… shoulder gangster Renjun.” you’re only whispering at him now as you tease him.

“Mmm.” is the only reply Renjun can manage as he chuckles lazily. He didn’t even feel like killing Donghyuck for telling you about that because he feels so good like this, in your arms. Renjun hasn’t even noticed that you’ve laid him down till he realizes how horizontal he is.

It felt nice. Being held by someone, being protected by someone, being comforted by someone. Your hands haven’t stopped soothing him for a single moment ever since they started. Renjun hadn’t even noticed that you’d put the covers on him. Or that you were kissing the top of his head till he feels the warmth. It all felt so nice. He barely registers that your shirt is wet from his tears. All he feels are the relaxing patterns you’re drawing onto his skin. It’s the last thing he feels as he drifts off. And though you're gone in the morning, Renjun can swear this is the most sound sleep he's slept in many nights. He feels a thousand times lighter, like someone had lifted a heavy weight off of his chest and he was finally breathing fully.

He smiles as he grabs his phone and sees your name right on the top of his notification list. He reads your message:

‘Hey, shoulder gangster. Sorry I left without telling you but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted to ask you something AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SAY NO. But my brother’s hosting a spring art festival of some sort at my parent’s house this weekend. A lot of his artist friends from his company will be there. Do you maybe wanna come with me?’

And there it was.

Yes, it was funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. And in his new habit, Renjun had forgotten the real reason he was with you in the first place.

Eyes on the fucking prize, Renjun thinks as his reality comes crashing back on him.

308 notes · View notes

reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

going in blind (luke alvez/reader)

{image id: gif of luke alvez holding two long sleeved button ups, the one on the left is gray and the one on the right is blue. A german shepard is in the foreground. the caption reads “the blue or the grey? hmm?” end image id}

Title: Going In Blind

Request: No

Couple: Luke Alvez with Visually Impaired Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: swearing (if any), mentions of service/guide animals, mentions of serving in the army, brief mentions of PTSD, blind/visually impared!reader, if I missed anything or something else needs to be tagged, please message me and I will fix that!

Word Count: 2,885

Summary: Penelope sets Luke up on a blind date with one of her friends… What could possibly go wrong…?

Author’s Note: Welcome to day two of my 7 fics in 7 days event! We have more firsts with this piece of work. I tried my hardest to make this be screen reader-friendly, if this has any problems with that, please let me know. This also blocks off a square on my third (i know) bingo card. It’s for the blind date square on the @cmbingo card! Thank you all so much for the love and support! Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Are you on tinder?” Penelope asked, looking over Luke’s shoulder. Luke was quick, jumping as he put his phone face down on his desk.

“What? No!” He looked over at his friend and colleague. He swallowed roughly, knowing that there was no way out of this one. Penelope already had the tools to find the truth. There was really no use hiding that from a woman like Penelope. Even if she wasn’t one of the best hackers he knew, Penelope would have worked it out of him no matter what.

“It looked like you were on tinder, Newbie,” she glared at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. Luke looked down at his phone for a brief moment, before looking up at his friend.

“He’s definitely doing something,” Spencer chimed in, looking away from his book. “He’s been picking up his phone and looking at it every other minute. That’s not an exaggeration,” he spoke looking back down at his book. Penelope looked back down at Luke with an excited smile.

“Yes, fine, I was on Tinder. It’s been awhile since things ended with Lisa and I wanted to… put myself out there, as some would say,” Luke spoke as he gestured towards his phone, “and, tinder is a viable way of doing that,” he looked up at his friend and shrugged.

“What if I set you up on a blind date?" Penelope smiled as she looked down at her co-worker.

“I… I guess… you can do that," he replied, furrowing his eyebrows. He wasn't too sure what to expect from Penelope when it came to a blind date.

“Oh sweetness! I know the perfect person!” Penelope clapped her hands together as she looked back at Luke. "I'll give them your number! And then you guys can plan a date or something!" she looked down at her friend with excitement.

{***}

"Roxy, blue or gray?" Luke looked at the German Shepard that was sitting on his bed. Roxy tilted her head to the side as she looked at her owner. Luke groaned as he looked at his pet, tossing both the shirts to his bed. He looked at the two clothing items before picking up the navy blue shirt and holding it to his chest.

“Blue might be best. Who doesn’t love blue?” he looked over at Roxxy with a smile before changing into the shirt. “Alright, Roxxy, wish me luck,” Luke whispered as he rubbed the dog’s head. With one last look at the animal, Luke left, hoping to make it there on time.

Unfortunately for him, time was not on his side and traffic ended up being his new friend. And when he did finally make it to the restaurant, he was a few minutes late. He rushed to the table, hoping they’d still be there.

“So sorry I’m late, I was trying to pick what color of shirt to wear and then traffic was a nightmare on the way here,” Luke chuckled as he sat down at the table across from them. They smiled and nodded, folding their hands over the table.

“Oh, oh it’s okay, really. I was a little nervous myself,” they laughed as they lifted a hand to their chest as they spoke. Luke looked at them and smiled. He silently prayed that this date wouldn’t crash and burn like previous dates he had been on.

But, little did he know, they were doing the same thing. They couldn’t even count how many dates they had gone on that failed harder than a teen who didn’t study for a test. They went into this date expecting it to have a bad outcome.

“Which color did you pick?” they asked like it was no big deal, like maybe he already knew the biggest, most obvious fact about them. They would have assumed that Penelope told him.

“Well, I, uh, I wore the blue shirt… I wasn’t sure which color to wear,” Luke laughed, watching as they started playing with their hands.

“So that’s what color it is,” they laughed lightly before blinking. The smile they had on their lips was very genuine. They were excited. Of course they were excited, someone was going on a date with them. And, so far so good, right?

Or, so they thought...

“I don’t… I don’t get it… Am I missing something,” Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at them. They had their hands resting in their lap. As a certain nervousness took over, they began pulling at their fingers, popping each knuckle.

“Did Penelope not tell you,” they nervously chuckled, blinking slowly as they shifted in their seat.

“Tell me…? Tell me what?”

“I’m blind,” they chuckled again. The silence that fell between both of them was tense. It was obvious that Luke had no clue that they were blind. Of course, they went into this blind date knowing whoever it was might not have known it was a literal blind date. It wouldn’t have been the first, or last, time Penelope left that detail out.

“Oh… Oh… I’m… I’m so sorry,” Luke muttered as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They laughed and shook their head.

“It’s okay. Really, it’s fine. I knew Penelope probably didn’t tell you,” they chuckled lightly before shrugging.

“I don’t know why Penelope didn’t mention that you… you’re blind,” Luke laughed as he brought his glass to his lips. They laughed and shook their head.

“I honestly wouldn’t put it past her… Wouldn’t be the first time she’s done that to me,” they smiled, reaching their hand out to feel for their glass of water. “Well, I’m not totally blind. I can see shapes if they’re being backlit. So, like if someone was standing in front of the sun,” their smiled and nodded before bringing the glass to their lips. After taking a sip, they carefully placed the cup back on the table. “Does that make sense?” they cocked their head to the side.

“Yeah, yeah it makes sense,” Luke nodded as he looked at them, “So, I picked a pretty good spot then, huh?” he asked as he realized that he was facing away from the sun.

“Well, I was the one who picked the spot, silly,” they couldn’t help but laugh. Luke felt somewhat comforted by their laughter, laughing lightly in return. “I knew the window seat would help me in that. It’s nice having the shape of my date,” they kept laughing. In their head that made sense, but thinking back about it now, they weren’t too sure if it made sense out loud.

“How… How did you go blind? If you don’t mind me asking,” Luke asked, his voice soft as he spoke. He wasn’t too sure if it was insensitive to ask that, but he was genuinely curious. If he didn’t find out through them, he would have just asked Penelope.

“Oh, uh, yeah you can ask,” they laughed again. Luke smiled, it was clear he really liked their laughter. Part of him was happy they couldn’t see how he looked at them. But the other part of him was upset that he couldn’t share the same things he saw with them. “I went blind when I was really young. I was like 5. If it wasn’t a million dollar word that you probably didn’t understand, I’d say it. But, I basically went blind because of an illness,” they smiled and nodded.

“Wow, I… I can’t even imagine…” Luke started but let his words trail off. Of course, how would anyone ever imagine being blind at such a young age? But they’ve heard that from so many people, and not just people they went on dates with, but friends, nurses, strangers on the street, and even family. They didn’t let it bother them though.

“Yeah, the number of times I’ve heard that,” they shrugged as they reached out for their glass of water again, “Trust me, it’s fine. I’ve been blind all my life, basically. I’m like a professional at it or something,” a small snicker came from them.

“Do you have a service animal?” Luke asked, watching as they expertly placed their water back down.

“His name is Pickles,” they smiled as they dropped their head down, “He’s a Labradoodle,” they felt happiness spread through their body as they talked more about their pet. Although, he was more than just a pet, than just a dog to them. Pickles was basically their best friend and family.

“I bet your Pickles and my Roxxy would be great friends,” Luke enthused with a laugh. Their head jerked up as if they looked at him the second he mentioned having a dog.

“Is Roxy a service animal?” they asked, resting their hands on the table. Luke smiled and nodded.

“Roxy helps with my PTSS…” he supplied a proper answer when he realized they didn’t see the nod.

“Oh my goodness,” they whispered, a sudden anxiety grew in their stomach as they thought of what to say next. But, they didn’t really know what to say.

“It’s all good now. Roxy’s my best friend. I’d be lost without her,” Luke swallowed roughly before nodding again.

“When did you serve? Where did you serve?” they asked, cocking their head to their shoulder.

“Uh, several years ago now. I served as part of the 75th Rangers in Iraq… with the U.S. Army,” his words got quiet as he spoke, but they were just loud enough for them to hear. They smiled and nodded.

“Thank you for your service, Luke,” the date whispered with a soft smile, “And now you work for the FBI."

“Yep! And now I work for the FBI,” Luke laughed and nodded, “Wouldn’t trade it for anything. My team is like my family,”

“You know, that wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard somebody say that. Penelope speaks so fondly of you,” his companion smiled as they ran their hand across the tablecloth. Their shoulders relaxed as they felt the fabric beneath their fingertips. “Well, she speaks fondly of everyone she knows, so I suppose it’s hard to judge that. But, she does talk about you and your team a lot. More often than anything else. Other than Sergio, of course,” they laughed, which in turn caused Luke to laugh.

“You’re not wrong. She really does talk about everyone she meets like they’ve done no wrong,” he agreed with a soft laugh.

“Which is impressive in her line of work, because of everything she sees. But I think that’s something Penelope and I have in common. I think too good of people. I think it would be too hard to work in the FBI, though,” they wrinkled their nose. “I’ve met some pretty shitty people but not serial killers… Not that bad,” they shrugged and dropped their shoulders.

Thankfully the moment was saved when the waitress came up to the table and took Luke and his date’s order. Playing it safe, they got spaghetti with sauce and cheese. Where as Luke ordered steak with vegetables.

“That sounds yummy. Hopefully it’s as good as it sounds,” they smiled and nodded. “Sorry I was intense about talking nice about other people. I don’t know. Working for the FBI sounds like it’d be cool, but very exhausting.”

“It is… It can be mentally and emotionally draining,” Luke nodded as he leaned over the table, resting his elbows on the edge to keep himself up. “But, it makes up for itself… See people be reunited with their families… It’s worth it then,” he nodded as he thought about previous cases he worked on.

“I’d never be able to do that,” they blinked before shaking their head, “I don’t know how Penelope does it,”

“A lot of courage. She surprises me everyday,” he laughed. This time it was their turn to appreciate his laughter. Though they couldn’t exactly see his face, they could imagine what was in front of them. The happiness and love he had for a friend. Luke’s date loved that he loved his friends like they were family.

“Anyways, enough about me and my work…” Luke cleared his throat as he watched his date rest their elbows on the table. “Tell me about you. Like, uh… What kind of music do you listen to?” he raised an eyebrow.

{***}{***}{***}

“You should have taken her seriously when she said blind date," Luke’s date chuckled lightly as the two of them walked down a cobblestone path. Their arm carefully rested on Luke's as they walked. Their other hand held their cane, tapping it across the ground in front of them.

"I agree, wasn't expecting it to be a literal blind date," Luke returned the chuckle, "But I had fun," he added as he looked down at his date.

"I did too. I'm kinda glad Penelope didn't tell you I'm blind," they laughed nervously. Truth be told, they were scared Luke would have ditched them. It’s happened before, what's not stopping it from happening again? They couldn't count how many times it has happened.

Luke abruptly stopped in his tracks as he looked down at his date. It caught them off guard, forcing them to turn and face him.

"What? Why'd we stop? Did something happen?" As the grip they had on his arm softened a little bit, the grip on their cane tightened. A certain fear filled their body, not sure what was happening at the moment.

"You know…” Luke started, pausing for a moment to find his words. The date pulled their hand from Luke’s arm as they turned to face him more. “I would have come whether Penelope told me you were blind or not," he continued, lifting a hand and resting it on their shoulder. They jumped slightly, not expecting the friendly gesture.

“I know… Well, actually, I don’t know. Because you wouldn’t be the first person to say that to me,” they swallowed roughly before dropping their head to the ground, “The number of failed dates I’ve gone on… Is a little embarrassing… And, the number of people who knew I was blind before the date and ditched… Is even worse,” they whispered as they stepped back away from Luke. Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his date. He couldn’t figure out why someone would ditch someone as cool as them. So what if they couldn’t see as well as others, or at all? They still deserved to be treated like a normal human.

“You don’t deserve that,” he muttered as he stared at his date. They smiled and nodded, already knowing that. “And, frankly, this is the best date I’ve been on in a long time,”

“I’m glad to hear that. It was a pretty good date for me too,” they smiled, as their hand returned to his arm. “Where are we anyways?” they took a deep breath and shuffled closer to his body.

“Down the street from your apartment,” he replied, looking down the street.

“Did Penelope give you my address?” they tilted their head up to him as they spoke. Luke’s date wouldn’t put it past Penelope, honestly. They expected it.

“Yeah, she said I should pick you up. But you said you would take an Uber…” he replied with a nod, “When we left the restaurant, I parked a few blocks away from your apartment, so we could walk… And so this date wouldn’t end,” he laughed lightly. His date couldn’t stop the large smile growing on their lips, feeling their heart pitter-pattering quickly in their chest.

“You really mean that,” they stopped tapping their cane across the ground as they began trusting Luke.

“We'll have to do this again,” his date laughed as they turned to face Luke, “I had a lot of fun tonight,”

“Of course I mean that. I told you...This is the best date I’ve been on in a while,” Luke laughed as he sensed their new level of trust in him.

“I wish this night didn’t have to end,” they said with a bubbly smile. Luke enjoyed the excitement of his date and hummed in agreement. Even though they both wished the night could keep going, the two walked in a comfortable and warm silence to their apartment.

“Yes! We will. Maybe we can walk Pickles and Roxy in the park,” Luke smiled as he looked down at them.

And just as he got to the bottom step of the small staircase, he stopped for a brief moment before turning to his date. “I’ll see you later,” Luke smiled at them.

“I won’t,” the blind date smiled as they rested their hand on the railing beside them. Luke froze when he realized his verbal mistake. His mouth opening slightly as he looked up at them with shock in his eyes.

“Aw man, I totally fudged that, didn’t I?” he pointed at the date before shoving his hands in his pockets. They laughed and shook their head.

“No, no, don’t worry. It’s fine. I thought it was funny. It happens all the time, actually,” them smiled and nodded, “I better let you go. It was nice meeting you, Luke,” they grasped their cane with both their hands as they turned to face him more.

“I’ll definitely call you,”

“I’ll definitely text you,” the date grinned before turning and entering their apartment.

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

taglist: @mggsprettygirl , @thebluetint

#shadow posts stuff #shadow writes stuff #masterlist #luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x you #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez fan fic #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez fan fiction #criminal minds fanfic

189 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 3 years

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Plus One, Ch. 2

Previously on Plus One

It oscillated every other minute between being an amazing idea, but also being the worst idea of all time, and Lexa was mostly exhausted of bouncing back and forth. It might be easier, she decided, if she just got herself on board with it being a good idea, but a deep, gnawing hole seemed to manifest itself in her gut at the very thought of seeing her ex.

As she went through the motions of finishing the day, of doing inventory because it was Wednesday, Lexa tried not to distract herself with the thoughts of her impending trip. In just forty-eight hours, she’d be face to face with Costia, who she hadn’t seen in months, who she avoided before occasionally running awkwardly into each other at mutual friends’ events. She’d come face to face with her ex who was getting married.

And she was going to do it with a complete stranger on her arm.

With a heavy sigh, Lexa tossed her clipboard on her tiny desk in the storage closet and plopped down in the squeaky chair, tipping it back with a wail. Her sister was the worst.

It was quiet in the shop, closed for just a handful of hours, Lexa always took a day to inventory and repair the damage of the week. She enjoyed the late evening work, when her workers were gone, and the shop was empty and full of dreams. No one knew how the cabinets stayed so clean, or how the scratches on table tops got sanded and fixed, or how the wobbly table by the window was miraculous cured one day, or how the ceiling fans got dusted, just that it all happened, and Lexa was off, meaning she didn’t come in until at least ten, the following morning.

But Lexa sat in the chair and let her brain do the same mental gymnastics it always seemed to do in the new quiet she found herself craving. She opened her laptop and ignored the awaiting spreadsheet, and instead opted to look over the answer Clarke had given her to the “Know your partner” quiz Clarke googled and made them both do. A mix of basic information and Newlywed Game style innuendos, Lexa filled hers out after a bottle of wine and anxiously waited for Clarke’s.

That was what started the daydreaming. She scrolled through Clarke’s answers and furrowed, doing her best to memorizing all that she could, as if she’d be tested on it all, as if it’d be impossible to believe she could be happy with someone like Clarke.

And when those thoughts started to seep into her brain, Lexa leaned back again and dug the tips of her fingers into her eyes.

In a week it’d be over.

And with that and a deep, heavy sigh, Lexa looked at the screen again and went about learning Clarke.

She started professionally, of course, looking at her corporate page and resume, because this was, if not anything, simply a business transaction and Lexa thought it was easier to parse a person if she didn’t actually have to fall for her.

A graphic designer at Anya’s firm, Clarke held accolades and a long list of references. The link to her work showed a wide range of commercial campaigns and a certain amount of talent evident by her list of upcoming projects. A graduate of a small, private, liberal arts university, her academics leaned heavily scientific, which was a surprise until Lexa read some of the answers in the survey about a degree in physics given up for art.

Lexa promised that she wouldn’t have looked at Clarke’s Instagram if Clarke hadn’t requested her first. She wasn’t someone who lurked, or at least she thought she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be someone who snuck around, digging through someone’s past, analyzing every filter and caption like a private investigator. But then Clarke appeared.

And there were pictures of Clarke with friends getting drinks on a rooftop. And then the one with her laughing and baking. Or the Christmas party where she was on a corporate Santa’s lap, smiling so wide her eyes were shut. Despite herself Lexa found herself smiling along with the girl in the pictures. The one who went hiking with a pack of dogs, and the one who seemed to always be eating something. The one who had a lot of friends and enjoyed making them smile and laugh. The girl who posted storie about her morning run, and the girl who seemed to have a healthy work life balance.

Lexa closed the webpages and stared at her inventory for exactly two seconds before curiosity won again and Lexa started looking at Costia’s account. There were the standard pictures of her pre-wedding planning. There was Costia working out. There was her new bride-to-be, happy and smiling at a gift for her birthday.

And then a throwback that made Lexa’s stomach drop as she stared at a familiar image of Costia smiling in a bikini on a beach. It was from the last trip they took. Lexa was the one behind the camera.

Three weeks after that picture was taken, Lexa walked in on Costia and a girl in the middle of the afternoon. Right in their own bed. Only to then discover it’d been going on for months. And it wasn’t the first. And then, Lexa didn’t remember much except that she moved into the apartment above her coffee shop and woke up one morning alone on sheets that weren’t familiar, in a room full of boxes.

It seemed even more difficult to start inventory after that shot to the gut.

But her phone went off, and Lexa leaned back in her chair after shutting the laptop again, wondering if that sinking feeling ever went away when it came to someone you love, or loved, or once loved, even for a moment. She didn’t have anything to compare it to, and she didn’t have any idea what love really was.

It felt like a deep wound was scratched open, the scab pulled back, and a burning numbness gnawing at the bottom of her spine. It felt like it would swallow her whole, and Lexa hated, more than anything, giving anyone the power to do anything as such over her.

Hey! Do you think this will go with your outfit?

An image came next, of Clarke in a dressing room wearing a very pretty dress, with very messy hair with her tongue sticking out. Lexa didn’t notice the gnawing feeling disappear.

We don’t have to match completely.

We do! Don’t you know how to date?

Not really.

Another picture of another dress came a moment later. Clarke was pretty. She was happy and silly and kind. It felt oddly normal, for as crazy as the whole scheme actually was.

I like that one, Lexa wrote, making sure to add a heart-eyed emoji to emphasize her point. Maybe that was flirting. Maybe she was allowed. She definitely needed more rules.

Good, I do too. It matches your tie, you know? And these heels will still leave you a little taller than me.

Sounds good to me!

Kind of excited. I guess I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow.

I’ll be the one at the bar.

I’ve heard it’s possible to find your soulmate at the airport. Something about the crossing of paths and time and space.

If my soulmate is a bottle of wine, then I reckon I might.

A love story for the ages.

Lexa smiled once more at her phone before tossing it to the side and letting her head drop to the desk. With a groan she growled into her hands and broke it down. She just needed to make it seventy-two hours. That was it. She could sleep for about twenty of those. She could drink for another twenty or more, if she really tried.

But this was it. This was the end.

And regardless of the weight of everything else, there was something satisfying about knowing it was almost over.

XXXXXXXXXX

The airport was absolutely teaming with bodies and people, weaving their way through the swelling crowds, loading and unloading the terminals at a constant, steady thumping rate, so regular one could set a watch to the heartbeat of the building.

Clarke adjusted her bag on her shoulder and tapped the ticket against her thigh as she moved through the security line. The nerves were coming for some reason. That was why she was at the airport three hours before the flight. She was anxious and needed a stiff drink and a few moments to catch her breath. She needed to escape the whirlwind she’d allowed herself to create.

Carefully, she made her way through the airport, checking the boards and finding her way to a seat in the empty waiting room. Not even an attendant waited at the kiosk.

Once again, she let herself awkwardly scroll on her phone, learning everything she could about her future date and weekend plans.

Lexa was nearly non-existent online. She didn’t have any pictures of herself. She rarely posted anything on her personal account, and when she did, it was just a book or a coffee or from a trip. She wasn’t one to enjoy being the center of attention, but when it came to her shop, she made sure to post almost daily, highlighting her employees and their recommendations, she made share to highlight events, she made sure to be as active as possible.

Anya had already warned Clarke that her sister was devoted to her work. She’d poured all of her effort into being successful and part of the community, and Clarke admired it, she just wished that there was more for her to see.

And so, once more, she flipped back to the long line of questions they’d filled out before giving up and gazing out the window at the planes coming and going.

For a moment, she allowed herself to think that she was doing something nice and good. It was an act of charity. It was the shake up Clarke needed and was selfishly trying to package as benevolent.

“You beat me, and I’m usually the first one here for a flight,” Lexa observed, walking up to Clarke, stealing her from her reverie.

“I like airports. Just waiting for true love to stroll up and introduce themselves.”

Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets, her bag balanced on her shoulder as she cautiously looked around, surveying the empty terminal slowly. Clarke watched her look around, smiled at the innocence of it. Enjoyed the way she ran her hand through her hair, mussing it up a bit and tossing it to another side.

“No one likes airports,” Lexa shook her head before taking the seat beside her.

“I do. They’re romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“You can get onto a plane, and a few hours later, you’re hundred of miles away, and it’s different weather, and it’s a different time zone. You can go to sleep in a different state. How can you not be romantic about that.”

“It’s a tin can filled with recycle air.”

“But there are peanuts.”

That did it. Lexa cracked a smile to herself and relaxed a little.

“I was going to be the first one here. Surprise you with coffee, but you beat me to it.”

“You are quite a good girlfriend. Someone clearly trained you well.”

Lexa shook her head, somewhat bashful, somewhat reserved. There was always something right there, just below the surface, obfuscated by a kind of resolve to never give anything away, not at any price. Clarke read it between words in their texts and emails, a glaring finality in the simple pixel of a period.

“Can I get you a coffee? Two creams, two sugar right?”

“You don’t have to--”

“It’s early and I’m trying to be charming. Allow me to somewhat repay you for this whole endeavour.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, darling.”

With the term of endearment, Lexa nodded, grinning into her chest as she stood and made her way across the terminal in search of sustenance. Clarke watched her take out her phone, texting her sister no doubt.

Once more, Clarke resumed the digging on her own, scrolling on her own phone at old pictures on Lexa’s profile. She was ready for fun, and she was ready to crack at that facade.

“I don’t know if this will help,” Lexa sighed as she sat down. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Oh this won’t be good for me either,” Clarke said as she took a sip. “I’m a fairly nervous flyer.”

“And yet you let me get us both coffee.”

“You made a good point, and I’m prepared to be paid back all weekend.”

With another grin, Lexa leaned back, her arm going on the back of the chair that Clarke inhabited, naturally, with ease, with a level of comfort.

“Are you ready to tell me the story?”

“Which one is that?” Clarke turned to look at her date, returned from an absent moment.

“How we met.”

“How we met,” she nodded, her smile bordering on mischievous. “That’s simple. Don’t you remember? It was a very blustery Tuesday, and I was trying to escape the wind and rain. I almost tripped coming into your coffee shop, but you happened to be sweeping, and were kind enough to catch me.”

“You’re severely overestimating my reflexes.”

“Fine. I ran you over and we both ended up on our asses in the middle of the coffee shop. Coffee everywhere.”

“Sounds pretty likely.”

“And I knew right there, I was hooked. Those eyes, all angry and annoyed at me for not looking where I was going, despite my persistent defense that I’d been assaulted by the weather.”

“Why do I have to be the angry one?”

“Wouldn’t you be though?” Clarke returned, daring her to be contradicted.

“Maybe,” Lexa agreed over the lid of her cup, fretting with it nervously.

“So I crashed into you, and you bought be a coffee. I turned up every day after that until I finally asked you out. You took longer than I would have liked to answer me, but I accepted it anyway, and we’ve been madly in love ever since.”

“And when was this?”

“About eight months ago.”

“How’s it going so far?”

“Splendidly. I’ve already met your sister, who it happens that I work with, which is super convenient for everyone.”

Quietly, Lexa sat there, going over the story, going over all of the past eight months of apparent bliss in her head. Clarke watched her furrow before softening, her eyes not seeing, but rather looking through the window as a plane took off and another landed. The softening of her features was soon met with a perplexion, a slight, gentle contortion of the brow and the lips, a tightening as a kind of confusion overtook the ease of the entire story.

“Is it that easy?” Lexa asked quietly, turning her head toward her date. Clarke cocked her head, waiting for more. “Is all of it… just… a wind? Waiting for someone to just ask you out? Is it that easy? Does that happen to people?”

“It can. How does anything happen in the world? It just… does. The universe is just a series of things happening, all of the time, right?”

“But is it that easy?”

To her credit, Clarke thought about it. She flexed her jaw and took a deep breath before slowing letting it go as she wondered if it really was.

“I don’t know. Maybe it can be.”

“How?”

“I guess there has to be a balance to making things happen and letting things happen.”

“I don’t know if I’m good at either of those things,” Lexa confessed. She sat up straighter a moment later, afraid of her honesty, and surprised more by how easily it came out.

“I think you can be.”

“That’s probably too kind.”

“We’ll see.”

Clarke rubbed Lexa’s shoulder, rubbed the middle of her back between her shoulder blades until she reached the collar of her shirt, where she massaged her neck. She tensed before relaxing, and Clarke didn’t stop, just rubbed there gently, slowly until she knew it was enough and she trailed her palm back toward the seat.

It was right there, they just didn’t know it.

212 notes · View notes

amysteriousmessenger · 3 years

Note

Hey im kinda late, but... Do you mind writing snowball fight with reader + rfa + V and saeran? If that's too much to ask, then its okay love! Oh, its kinda late but merry holiday, or christmas if you celebrate it! May your holidays be blessed and filled with only happiness and love 😽😽. Here, take all your loves you deserve!

AAAAA this is so kind of you, thank so much and a happy holidays to you too!! <3 You’re always so lovely to me! I’m sorry that I’m posting this on Boxing Day, but I hope it’s still okay for you!

RFA and Reader Snowball Fight Headcanons

Yoosung Kim Snowball Fight Headcanons

You would have been visiting Yoosung at his university over Christmas, it has already started to heavily snow whilst you were on your way so by the time you actually got there, the snow had fallen to several inches.

Yoosung was so excited about the snow, it reminds him of when he was young and would make snowmen in the garden with his Rika and his sister. He’d look a little crestfallen thinking about it, and you offered to build a snowman outside on campus with him.

The two of you built the snowman together, dressing it in a scarf and sending silly pictures of the three of you to the RFA chat. It was then, as Yoosung was trying to take his own selfie with it, that you launched a snowball right into the back of his head and he caught it on camera.

He feels so betrayed, pouting as he looked at you with big puppy eyes.

He won’t retaliate until you laugh and begin scrambling to craft another snowball, at which point Yoosung with try to hide behind the snowman as a shield. He has to fight back, his time on LOLOL has trained him for this.

He throws a few snowballs out from behind the snowman, and then gets hit with one in the face when he peeks around to see if any made contact with you.

He’s laughing and having fun as you throw the snow, and it continues for a few minutes until you’ve tired yourselves out and return to his dorm for a hot shower and warm hot chocolate.

Zen/Hyun Ryu Snowball Fight Headcanons

The two of you would be on a winter date in the park. Zen was marvelling at how the pure white snow compliments his air, and makes the red of his eyes stand out against the crisp background and how th- Bam. You hit him on the side of the head with a snowball, instantly silencing his handsome spiel.

‘Jagiya! How could you do that to m-’ Bam, another one hitting him in the shoulder. He watched as you giggled, scrambling to gather enough snow for another attack and his heart just melted, he can’t stay mad at you. But, he also can’t lose: his ego would not allow it.

He grabs a fistful of snow and starts chasing you through the thick snow, his trousers are getting a little wet but he doesn’t mind, you’re having fun. You turn back mid-run to throw another snowball at him, but miss. Zen takes this opportunity to throw his own snowball at you, hitting you on the ass and earning a smirk from him.

You try to throw more, but Zen runs for fun, there’s no way that you could overtake him. You manage to get a few more snowballs thrown in his general direction but the majority of them miss and you somehow strumble and fall backwards into the snow as he got close.

Zen tried to stop himself falling, he really did, but the snow was heavy on his feet and he ended up falling on top of you, caging your body with his own.

After the initial moment of distress, he couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked with the snowflakes falling into your hair and on your eyelashes. He leaned in and planted a kiss onto the corner of your mouth, his lips slightly cold from the weather.

The two of you smiled, and then you scooped up a handful of loose snow and threw the dusting into his face.

Jaehee Kang Snowball Fight Headcanons

You were hard-pushed to get Jaehee to go out in the cold weather, she was too busy and didn’t particularly fancy getting her clothes wet. After enough pleading, she finally relented and agreed to make a snowman with you as long as it didn’t take too long.

The two of you made a small snowman together, and gave it a small ponytail. You sent a picture of it to the RFA chat with the simple caption ‘Snowzen’.

She would be getting ready to go back inside to make coffee when you hit her in the back of her shoulder with a snowball.

After a brief moment of disbelief followed by a sigh, Jaehee would wait until you weren’t looking to quickly grab some snow and throw it at you. Obviously, she missed.

But that still instigated a war. You grinned.

You both started gathering snow and throwing it at one another: yours in attack, Jaehee’s in defense. It wasn’t often that she got to loosen up, so you were happy to see her laughing on this rare occasion.

Snowzen got beheaded in the fight.

Saeyoung Choi in a snowball fight Headcanons

Firstly, it’s not a snowball fight, it’s war.

Seven would have been working into the early hours of the morning when he realised it was snowing and had an absolutely awful idea for a prank.

He went out into his garden, calmly grabbed a fistful of snow, took his time on his way back inside to smooth it into a perfectly spherical ball, prayed, and then launched it into your sleeping face from across the room and fucking bolted.

He knew he was a deadman. You sent in a text demanding that he meet you outside in twenty minutes to settle the score like men.

Once the smug bastard comes out, you immediately throw a snowball into his face but he ducked, so your snowball missed the target. You forgot he had physical training from the agency and realised this was going to be a lot more difficult than you originally thought.

You weren’t even sure how he manages to make so many snowballs in such a small amount of time but in the time it takes it you to craft three, he’s got twice as many done and he’s beginning to propel them at you.

There were about twenty minutes of all-out warfare, with Seven doing dramatic leaps behind bushes and rolls to escape your attacks, all whilst managing to hit you with practically every snowball he threw.

You were so happy to see him having such fun, knowing that he never got to do this as a child.

It was safe to say he won the snowball fight, and had to give you pouty kisses afterwards to make up for his prank.

Jumin Han Snowball Fight Headcanons

Jumin had never been in a snowball fight before and isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to be doing, so he sends you a wary look when you threw a snowball at him, hitting him in the chest. He had come outside onto the rooftop terrace to admire the scenic snow on the city with you, and you assault him? He is offended.

‘____, what are you doing? You’re going to get my suit wet an-’ You threw another one into his leg followed up with the sweetest, most innocent look you could muster. He sighed. He resigned himself to humouring you, since it would clearly make you happy and he was always one to indulge you.

You explained to him what he was supposed to do and he asked for a practice shot, which you were unwilling to give him.

Jumin’s aim was absolutely terrible and he mentions making a note to practice such things as this imperfection should be ironed out and- you threw another one at him. He smirked and gave you a look, before attempting to throw more of the snowballs he had delicately crafted at you and even managed to hit a few on your thighs and stomach.

Despite not particularly caring for such activities himself, he enjoyed seeing this playful side of you, even if it was a bit cheeky.

Jihyun Kim/V Snowball Fight Headcanons

The two of you would be out early in the morning so V could take pictures of the sunrise hitting the untouched snow, reflecting the beautiful colours of the scenery.

V also decided that he wanted some pictures of you in the same setting, with your long flowing dressing gown settled softly atop the snow. Of course, you indulged him.

After a few minutes of him taking your picture, you noticed he had smiled and was satisfied with his images for today. He turned to put his camera down on the table and take a sip of his coffee when something cold and wet exploded on the back of his head. It was a snowball.

It’s a little difficult for him to imagine himself in a snowball fight since he can’t see brilliantly and he feels like his aim will be off, but he’s more than willing to try since you wanted to play.

You run over to help him down the steps and into the large garden before you retreated back to your original position. You kept it fair though and stayed in his field of vision.

V wasn’t usually one to let off steam in such a way, so he seemed a little tense at first and didn’t throw the snowballs too hard in fear of accidentally hurting you. He missed more than he landed, so you were definitely winning the snowball fight.

He didn’t mind though, he was far more invested in the sight he saw before him: the adorning smile on your face, the red flush of your cheeks from the cold, snowflakes clinging to your hair and your dressing gown flowing against the breeze behind you as you ran. He could never capture such beauty if he tried.

Saeran Choi Snowball Fight Headcanons

Saeran doesn’t really enjoy the cold weather, it chills him straight to the bones so he either needs to wrap up in a bundle of layers otherwise he can’t stay out in it for very long.

However, the boy must go and buy his ice-cream from the convenience store since his ‘idiot brother’ ate the last of it without ordering more. You offered to go for him, since you were worried about him slipping and hurting himself, but he didn’t know which flavour he wanted, so you decided to accompany him instead.

The both of you were almost back at Seven’s when you got the idea to start a snowball fight, so you suddenly grabbed some snow and threw it at Saeran, hitting him in the shoulder.

He turned around and was both confused and annoyed, demanding to know why you hit him. You were also confused at his annoyance, but it quickly dawned on you that he didn’t know what a snowball fight was. He’d never had the chance to do it. He was never allowed out when he was a child and even if he had, he would have been too sickly to go out playing in the snow anyway.

You explained it to him and his expression softened when he realised it was a playful activity, and that he should try making up for the lost time. Saeran awkwardly knelt down, collected some snow and stiffly threw it back at you in the hip. He seemed nervous to make sure he was doing it correctly and looked at you for affirmation. You smiled and laughed, encouraging him to do it again as you collected more snow.

It was a very small, soft start for him.

Bonus: When the two of you got back to Seven’s house, his brother came to the door to plead Saeran’s forgiveness and asked if you got him any snacks from the shop, and was immediately met with a snowball to the face from Saeran.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger hc #mymes #mysmes #yoosung kim #zen mystic messenger #jumin han #hyun ryu #jihyun kim #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #saeran choi #mystic messenger headcanon

187 notes · View notes

shadow-otousan · 4 years

Text

Deciphering the years in which Shadowsan grew up in

Alternative title: Debunking the supposed fact that Shadowsan is 40+ (I’m looking at you, cs wiki)

Since Shadowsan’s flashback in s02e03, this has been on my mind. After some intense image searching, I can finally share the fruits of my research.

Let’s cut to the chase.

This is Shadowsan as a child, then known as Suhara. (Also pictured are most likely his playmates.) The style of clothing they wear, which you can see mostly on the other kids, were fashionable as everyday wear for children during the 60s (and possibly earlier during the late 50s). This nostalgic blog in Japanese in which the author talks about their childhood and details the timeline of the decade, also describes the fashion worn by himself and his peers.

The caption (fortunately in English) as follows:

Children of everyday wear of 1965 is this is it !!

The boy on the far right and the two boys on the far left are wearing the style most similar to what we see in the flashback--sweaters worn over their shirts, and shorts that barely stop at the thighs or, if longer, above the knees. We can safely say that Shadowsan spent his childhood at least somewhere in the mid-60s.

Now on to the second decade and this time, we’ll be looking at Shadowsan and his brother. But first, we’ll be focusing on the most conspicuous example for what was considered the style of that decade.

This is Hideo as a young adult. Now the decade in which this took place was easier to figure. It might help that I had a 70s phase in college lol. The type of glasses he wore originated in the late 60s as a reaction to the unattractive and sometimes even downright butt-ugly spectacles of the past decades (except cat eye glasses but even that was a mixed bag). However, this style of eyewear really peaked in popularity during the 70s and it endured somewhat into the 80s.

Glasses became seen as fashionable with their large, thick, and colorful frames as seen in these ads. Tinted lenses, if we’re talking about sunglasses. Now what only stumps me is that I cannot find the exact example for Hideo’s glasses, as I see only one bridge on his frames instead of the more common two (those are the type of glasses Shadowsan buys for himself during the Fashionista Caper showing us that fashion is cyclical, but I digress). Regardless, the shapes are there.

As for his hair, you can simply find it by typing “70年代アイドル男性” in google image search. But for the sake of one example:

The only slight difference is that apparently, most of them parted their hair to the right instead of slightly to the left like Hideo does (and Masashi Sada as you can see above. Bonus points for being the few famous people in Japan who wears glasses so now I’m given the theory that the character designers lowkey based Hideo off of him. Highly unlikely, but it’s a nice thought. While we’re here, check out one of his songs like this one). His hairstyle also lasted until the 80s (because any start of the decade will always have holdovers from the previous one) until perms and hairspray made them even crazier. Hideo’s hairstyle can be describe as ‘feathered.’ Hideo’s clothes lack the then ubiquitous bell-bottom pants and wide lapels of the 70s though I’m chalking that up to even Hideo thinking those were silly (bell-bottoms could actually sweep up the dirt if you don’t wear platform shoes..I also tripped on them twice while walking ;w;).

Next, Shadowsan--este, Suhara as a teen.

Because he’s a rebel, it’s a given that his style does NOT reflect the popular fashion of his youth unless you’re in a gang (or trying to look like you’re a part of one). They seem to have one thing in common though: a buzzcut.

This was a photo of what seems to be gang members, taken by Katsumi Watanabe in 1972. The man on the middle right is the closest we have to Suhara’s style, befitting a misfit of Japanese society. On the contrary to medium-length feathered hair and colorful clothes, such rebels would go out of their way to stick out from the norm. Worth noting that the bosozoku fashion--in which elements of American choppers and 50s greasers are combined with Japanese elements (i.e. gakuran--high school uniform for males, hachimaki, sarashi, tokkou-fuku--”special fighting jacket”, etc.)--did not become quite popular until the 80s, so what Suhara wears is more or less a prototype of what will become the stereotypical look of Japanese delinquents (although those styles have actually coexisted too).

Now with all that out of the way. We can estimate as to how old they really are.

If Shadowsan was a 60s kid, that would place his birth years somewhere during the end of the 50s or the very beginning of the 60s, making him 50 plus or early 60s at the time of the show’s setting (2019).

Hideo, meanwhile, I’m just gonna take a wild guess and say he’s 5 to 7 years older (or even 10 considering how much older he looks compared to his brother in the current show), which would place his birth years squarely in the 50s, beggining, mid, or late. In the show’s setting, that would make him either 60 plus or pushing 70 years old. If 10, mid 70s or plus.

Until a concise number is given to us by the CS crew, I will strictly hold on to these conclusions as their more or less true ages. Of course, everyone is free to disagree because, after all, these are only theories and if they were to be debunked in the future, I won’t be surprised. Just a little heartbroken lol Because I’m not a historian of any sort nor am I Japanese, feel free to add on this or correct me on some mistakes I might have made.

And that concludes this post. Class dismissed ;P

(Last minute addendum: I would also like to point out that though it seems that most VILE operatives recruited are young as some argue that any VILE operative student had to be 20, nowhere in the show does it require only a certain group of young people can join. It might be entirely possible that as long as one is an adult (20 or older), one can join VILE. And Shadowsan, from the looks of it, seems to be in his late 30s or early 40s when he was a student going by his facial features. He just used to look really young bc Asian aging is a paradox. You can be older than you look, vice versa, and suddenly look like your age. But hey, like I said, only theories)

Ok, now I’m done~

#carmen sandiego 2019 #shadowsan #suhara #cs suhara #hideo #cs hideo #analysis #headcanons #cs headcanons #1970s #1960s #learning #theories

126 notes · View notes

all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Powdered Sugar

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Boston didn’t come without repercussions.

Warnings: A bit angsty, but Bucky is all love sick if that helps.

A/N: It’s a shorter chapter but it’s still important and it sets up where our slightly dumb couple is headed. I tried to grab everyone who asked for a tag recently if I missed you please let me know and I’ll add you. This is the fourth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

It felt good to be home. Every time Bucky’s left New York and came back, it made him realize how much this city really was home. Now you were part of that. You were home. It had been five days since you left Bucky to fend for himself in Boston. On the morning of your flight, he got up before the sun was and drove you to the airport. He kissed you for fifteen minutes in front of the airport security check-in and nearly made you late for your flight; he couldn't help it. He hated being away from you, and knowing it would be days before he could hold you again, he might have gone a little overboard — Bucky wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget about him before he made it back to Brooklyn and to you.

Steve handed over three folded bills to the cashier behind the counter and took two paper cups of coffee, passing one to Bucky. It was their first day back in the office since closing the deal with Carol, and Bucky was having trouble focusing on his job for the first time in his life. He desperately wanted to ditch work and spend the rest of the day in bed with you, but he had a company to run, and he had to be a grown-up.

As Steve reminded him, all damn day.

“So, what’s going on with you and Y/n? You both were... different in Boston.”

“I don’t know Stevie. That last night…” Bucky shook his head and stared at the white plastic lid over his coffee, he couldn’t explain it — there were no words to describe how he felt about you and what happened this past week only made things more confusing.

“It was different. She said I was her stupid, and things were just different from how they usually are. The way we were with each other... I dunno, man.”

Steve was quiet for a long beat before he looked at Bucky with a small grimace he asked, “You’re excited because she called you stupid? I call you stupid all the time.”

“No, it wasn’t like that—”

“Sam constantly calls you dumb. All the time. I have to separate you two—”

“Steve!’ Bucky groaned and shoved Steve away from him. He was not in the mood. He was already grumpy because he wouldn't get to see you until the Stark Gala, and now Steve was pissing him off with the dumb questions.

“She said my stupid. It’s the ‘my’ part I was talkin’ about, dumbass. She called me hers, and it wasn’t the first time, either.”

“What else did she say?” Steve urged with a wide grin.

Bucky felt his cheeks pink, and his ears were burning. He cleared his throat and grumbled through a forced cough. “Uh, she called me her… fella.”

Steve chuckled and bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his. If Sam were there, he probably would have teased him over the pet name, but Steve didn’t. He liked seeing Bucky this happy, and Steve knew it was all thanks to you. He wasn’t about to cheapen Bucky’s feelings by teasing him over a silly name.

“You’re in deep, aren’t you?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer, and Bucky grinned and told him honestly, “Yeah, I think I am, Stevie.”

Bucky fished his phone out of his pocket, with all this talk, and he realized he hadn’t heard from you yet today. This was a sign. Boston was the push he needed. He needed to stop this nonsense, and tell you what he wanted, tell you where he wanted your relationship to go. He was going to tell you what’s on his heart at the Stark Gala — he was done playing around. You had to know he was all in, but if you wanted to keep things the way they were, he could be okay with that. He will stick around for as long as you’ll have him because he was already in love with you.

It was going to hurt when you leave him no matter what, you should at least know how he felt when you do walk away.

You arrived home nearly six days ago, and from the moment you stepped through the door, you refused to talk about the trip or Bucky. There wasn’t a moment of that trip you wanted to relive — even the good parts, it would only make the bad parts more painful. Pretending as if the terrible, awful, wonderful week never happened was the only way you could clean up the mess you made of your heart.

Of course, it would be easier to forget if your roommate minded her own business, and she wouldn’t let it go.

Every time Natasha asked you a question about Boston or Bucky, you evaded. You would change the subject back to her or offer to buy dinner, and Clint would change the topic for you — the pizza or Chinese debate always bought you an hour. Natasha would only put up with that for so long, though. There was no way you could keep that up forever, and you knew that, but you couldn’t get the words out even if you wanted to.

It hurt. You needed distance between you and the damage that was done — if you were going to find a way to repair it.

This morning, you sat at the counter spoon hanging loosely from your hand, spinning your cereal as you stared at your phone in your other hand. You had been like this since you opened Instagram, sitting and gawking at your phone. You couldn’t eat. All you could do was stare. Not after you saw what Sam posted. Most of his additions were of the boys and usually picking on Bucky, but the latest picture was what caught your attention. It looked like it was their last night in Boston, and Carol was smushed between the men.

Against your better judgment, your thumb took on a life of its own and clicked her profile. Carol had reposted Sam’s original image, but there was another photo that made a green monster stir in your chest. The look of their attire said it was towards the end of the night, jackets had been shed, and hair was let down— it was only her and Bucky this time.

Bucky had been caught mid-laugh, glowing smirk and little eye crinkles in captured in Mayfair or whatever the hell filter she deemed was best to highlight your boyfriend— Bucky. He was not your boyfriend. Carol's arm was linked in Bucky's, and she was gazing at him adoringly, but it was the caption that had your hackles raised.

Can you believe no one has snatched this man up? He’s more than just a pretty face, let me tell you. Sweet like you wouldn’t believe and knows how to negotiate. Can’t wait to start working with this stud.

“Why don’t you snatch him up?”

You jumped at the sound of Natasha’s voice coming from over your shoulder and dropped your phone to the counter, narrowly missing your bowl of milk. You hated it when she did that.

“Seriously?” You whined loudly. “I told you not sneak up on me!”

“Sorry. I said your name three times, but you were busy staring at your phone like it was going to turn into something. So, did you snatch him up?”

You shook your head, letting her know you didn’t want to talk about it, but you had to say something. It had been days since it all went down, and she would find out eventually. It was better she found out now before Bucky tired of you and found someone else. You slid off the stool to drop your bowl in the sink. Your cheerios were soggy anyway.

“No, I didn’t, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y/n, what happened--”

“He doesn’t want to be snatched up, okay? Least of all by me.”

Natasha watched you dump your breakfast in the trash and pour your glass of orange juice down the sink. You avoided her eyes, but she could still see the hurt filling them, as you explained everything that happened in Boston and everything you heard that night. None of it made any sense. Bucky told her how he felt, the whole truth, and no one lies to Natasha.

“Y/n, I know that’s not true.” Natasha pointed to where you were standing and told you what happened that morning he invited you to Boston. “He stood right there, looked me in the eye, and said you meant something to him. He said he was going to tell you in Boston how much you meant to him and that he wanted more than this game you two are playing."

"Well, he lied!” You shouted, falling back against the counter from the blowback of the admission. “Of course, he lied. You’re my best friend. You probably would have killed him and hid the body before I got out of the shower. He’s not going to tell you the truth because he knew you would tell me.”

“And why do you think he told them the truth?”

“Steve is his best friend and his business partner. They all served together, Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They are brothers, and he’s known Sharon for over a decade before she ever married Steve. There is no way he lied to them, and even if he did lie to them, it doesn’t make him any better. It only means he’s embarrassed to with me, so he lied to the people closest to him.”

Natasha wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. He lied to someone, and no matter who caught the lie and who heard the truth, none of it was good.

“You need to talk to him. Tell him what you heard and let him explain himself. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding. If it turns out he is a total dick, you can use the moves I taught you freshmen year and give him a broken arm as a parting gift.”

A single kiss dropped to your cheek, and she left you alone to find your way through the tangled web of dark thoughts spinning around your head. Natasha was right — like always. You needed to talk to him about the trip, but first… You grabbed your phone from where it fell on the counter and pulled up your messages. Your stupid fingers were at it again. A quick screenshot of Carol’s post, you dropped into the textbox and typed furiously before your brain could gain control over your fingers.

You: Looks like you had fun. Did you finally get snatched up?

That sounded awful and jealous and childish. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to be with you, your phone mocks.

You watched three bubbles pop up right away as if he was already sending you something or at the very least, had his phone in his hand, and guilt swam up your throat, choking you. He was probably working, and you were sending him childish messages fueled by jealousy.

Fella❤: I had more fun when you were with me. I got snatched up months ago. Sorry to say. A sweet girl stole me away. Made me her fella, didn't you hear?

You hated how he could say things that meant so much to you and mean so little to him, and you really hated how much you didn’t hate it at all.

You: Did she? Really?

Fella ❤: Really and truly. She did. I was hoping she would be my date to the Stark Modern Art Charity Gala this weekend. I was about to ask her when I got your message. I haven't seen her in days, and I'm itchin' to have her on my arm again.

Of course, on his arm for show and nothing more.

You: That can be arranged. I don't have a dress, though. I don’t want to embarrass you.

Fella ❤: You could wear a garbage bag and be beautiful, and you could never embarrass me. BUT if you insist on getting dressed up. I think I have something in mind. I'll send it over.

Fella ❤: What has you thinking I could ever be embarrassed by you?

You ignored the question and hoped your answer would keep him distracted so you could have that conversation in person.

You: Okay, I’ll be your girl for the night.

Fella ❤: I hope after the gala it will be more than just one night, sweet girl.

Ordinarily, Bucky’s flirting and little sexual innuendos would make your toes curl, and those stupid butterflies in your stomach flutter — maybe even laugh if it was silly enough, but it didn’t. It left you feeling empty and… wanting. Which only made your choice easier. Of course, you were going to go wherever he wanted you to go because truthfully, five days was far too long without him. You missed him. You missed so much your chest ached, and the only thing that could ease the hurt was seeing him.

If being Bucky’s sugar baby was the only way you could have him, then you were going to take what he could give until he was done with you because you were not ready to lose him just yet.

#sugar daddy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #sugar daddy AU #alternate universe #sugary sweet series #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes

1K notes · View notes

thekidultlife · 4 years

Text

I Want Your Midnights | Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Idol AU (?)

⍟ Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst on the side

⍟ Warnings: -

⍟ Word Count: 4.3k

⍟ A/N: Alright I know you guys are already sick of me just posting Jihoon fics, but it’s my birthday today, so just...humor me pls. This is almost a self-indulgent fic;;; I’ll be tagging @nrhfzh and all those jihoon stans who sent anons last time!!

(this should be posted on Friday which is Leanne’s schedule, but we decided she won’t post anything this week and I won’t post next Moday;;;)

btw, the song featured here is New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift. I recommend you listen to that song while reading this skkssk

-Hyeri

It was like an ordinary night. Like any night that you have spent before and will spend more in the future. Nothing extraordinary could be noted in particular between you and Lee Jihoon as you both sat eating in the quiet and privacy of his studio, between out of place candles and almost empty chicken buckets. It was as normal as a night can be.

Yet at the same time, in your own little way, it was also special.

Not being overly expressive with your love for each other, subtle gestures and acts of love screamed more than a thousand words could ever do. It never felt lacking or boring or empty like people thought it would be. In fact, your relationship was an adventure, even barely starting, it had been an uphill battle, and you both knew that.

As you came back from the comfort room washing your hands, you made a small scheming grin at your boyfriend who was still gobbling up the last remains of his chicken wing. Taking notice of that, he glanced at you with a smirk of his own.

"I know that look. What are you planning?" He asked as you sat across him, your arms folded confidently.

"Are you done eating?" You replied, watching him with a childish cheekiness in you.

"Well yeah," he dusted off the crumbs on his shirt with an innocent look. "What are you thinking though?"

With a coquettish smile, you stood up from your seat and went to his side. "Nothing really. Though I do want you to close your eyes and trust me."

Jihoon glanced at you with a bewildered look at first, wondering what you were scheming again this time, but when he saw that mischievous glint in your eyes, he knew it was something he shouldn't really worry about and simply chuckled at you.

"Fine, but don't do any funny business!" He finally agreed as he closed his eyes and waited for you.

He could hear you walking away and some wheels rolling. "I've never done any funny business." You denied teasingly.

He scoffed, even with his eyes closed. "Yeah right. Except that time when you drew on my face when I was drunk!"

He knew you were making an incredulous expression right now.

"C'mon! I was just trying to see what you would look like with a mustache," you laughed, walking towards him and reaching for his hands. "Don't open your eyes yet. I promise I won't draw a third eye on your forehead this time."

"Please don't. And please stop sharing meme faces of me to the other members. My reputation as vocal boss is on the line," he retorted back with a toothy grin as you chuckled, guiding him somewhere in the room.

"Can't promise that, Ji. I like my status as the official Lee Jihoon meme distributor," you replied, making him laugh out loud at how ridiculous that title was, before the both of you stopped walking. "You can sit now. I promise there's a chair to catch your butt."

For a while he feared that there really wasn't any chair for him to sit on, yet when he felt the soft foam of his swivel chair, he relaxed for a bit and sat down. Turning the chair around before you backed away, you allowed him to finally open his eyes. As soon as his sight came back, he was greeted by the image of you sitting in front of the electric keyboard with a soft smile on your lips.

"I can't promise you my voice or my playing would be up to your standards, but just…it's the thought that counts right?" You suddenly rambled, giggling.

Blinking, Jihoon was still processing what you were planning until it dawned on him the next second. "Are….are you going to sing me a song?"

You smiled at him bashfully. "Yeah, though I wish it was a song that I made myself, but I guess I'll put my feelings into somebody else's words for now. So you better listen."

Gazing into your eyes, he could sense the sincerity deep in you. You were someone who wouldn't make an effort just for the sake of being romantic. Everything you do for him meant something and was done with great consideration, he understood that, that's why right now, he could feel his heart swell with emotion.

A gentle smile on his lips, Jihoon leaned back. "I'll listen. Don't worry, I won't judge."

“You promised that, okay?” With a sheepish grin, you turned your attention back to the piano and placed your fingers on the correct chords.

With a small nervous breath, you began playing.

"There's glitter on the floor after the party

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby…"

Soft chords accentuate your raw and amateur voice. It didn't need to be technically perfect, the genuine emotions which surfaced on your voice reflected beauty in Jihoon's ears. It didn't need to be perfect, but it was real. He always loved that about you. Your brutal honesty, the unapologetic optimism you had. It gives him strength to look forward to another day.

He remembered as he watched your fingers dance on the keys, the first time you met. It wasn't that special. He just saw you on the internet as he monitored his own social media presence, posting stuff about Seventeen and what not. He found your comments funny, your reactions interesting, that he found himself going through your posts every day. He knew he'd love to be your friend if he could.

Yet being an idol wasn't easy. You were so close yet so far away. It wasn’t as easy as typing the words ‘hey i wanna be your friend’ to just another person. His name held weight and Jihoon knew that. With his workload and all the responsibilities he had in his hands, he just couldn’t tell you what he felt. As he listened to your voice reverberating with the acoustics of his studio, he remembered how it took him years to finally stir up the courage and to finally see the opportunity to talk to you.

He was glad he did. If he hadn’t, his heart wouldn’t feel as full as it has been since he met you.

“If you’re really Woozi of Seventeen, then post a picture of yourself in Weverse and in the captions write what’s the last anime you’ve watched.” Jihoon remembered you telling him over chat, it was nerve-wracking back then but it felt silly now. Of course, you can’t just trust a random person claiming himself to be an idol. There were a lot of those these days.

“Let’s be friends first,” you wrote to him with a heart and a smiley face emoji back then. “I want to get to know you.”

“Don't read the last page, but I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away…”

Jihoon gazed at you, even then and until now, you were still beautiful in his eyes. No matter how many songs he’d composed about you, the emotions that reside in his chest would never run dry. The way you laugh, the way you talk, the way you’d do just about anything—he only had you in his eyes. Yet things weren’t always roses and butterflies.

You were so frustrated at him at that time when he had gotten scared of his own emotions. Jihoon knew, deep inside, that he had grown to love you over chats on SNS; your witty sarcasm and wonderful conversations were like water and sunlight to the love growing, rooting deeper and deeper into his heart.

He wasn’t unfamiliar to this feeling, yet he had been betrayed by this same emotion in the past and he wished he’d never had to be again this time. He was frightened that you could easily leave him, broken and empty, like the others did. Admittingly, he had lost hope for a love that was unconditional. He didn’t believe that there would be anyone out there who could love him wholeheartedly as much as he did, even through his flaws and his mistakes.

But you suddenly popped into his life, unaware of how much power you hold over him.

“You annoy me so much!” you told him over one fateful video call. “Jihoon, I feel so confused, you know? What am I really to you? Do you want to be just friends or do you want something more? If you want to stay as friends, then fine! I won’t force you. But that doesn’t mean I’d wait for you forever when you’re ready to take this to another step.”

He didn’t enjoy fighting with you. Not at all. Yet he was scared and stuck and didn’t know what to do. Being more meant more risks of hurting you unintentionally.

“But I can’t decide, Y/N! Dating means people will talk, and I don’t want them to talk about you! But I can’t just make everything I feel about you disappear!” he replied, and you were taken aback. “But if letting you go is the price I have to pay for your peace, then I don’t mind hurting.”

Tears were already threatening to slide down your cheeks, and if only you knew how much it pained him to see you like that back then. To hear you trip on your words, to hold back small sobs as you tried to find coherent words to keep the conversation going, it felt like a thousand knives piercing through him.

“Stop that…please. Do you think I won’t feel anything when you say that?” you replied. “Jihoon, I can understand where you’re coming from but don’t ever think that you’re the only one carrying this relationship, or whatever this is. For this to work, you have to share your burdens with me, you have to trust me, to depend on me.”

“I know that all your life, you’re used to doing everything by yourself, and I’m no different. We’ve achieved so many things just by ourselves. But we can’t be like this forever. A relationship isn’t just you or just me. It’s us both. So lean on me, let me carry those heavy feelings and I’d do the same with you. I want this to work, Jihoon. I don’t want to give up.”

Even if it was only through some shitty PC screen that he could see you, it didn’t diminish the weight of those words. He could feel it back then, he could still feel it right now as you played on the piano, singing a simple song—you were the one he wanted, tomorrow and forevermore.

“You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's going to be a long road…”

Jihoon would forever be thankful for you. Everything that you did for him, even if unintentionally on your part. He couldn’t admit how much he appreciates you in his life—through early morning calls when you were still far apart, and now through your warm presence in his studio as he worked.

“I’m considering moving there in the next year or so,” you suddenly told him over a phone call as you did your work. “Now that I’m breaking through the Korean webcomic scene, I think it’s better to stay close to my audience. And I think it’s better that we can finally be together, geographically at least.”

He could still remember it as fresh as that day. His heart began beating so fast, a wide grin broke out on his lips. He was worried that it’ll be too much for you to handle, but he had learned as your relationship progressed, that you’re someone who doesn’t get pushed back by hurdles so easily. Besides, you had him.

Jihoon was glad that he can now keep you closer more than ever.

It wasn’t easy, like everything else in life. But there was nothing the both of you couldn’t handle. It took so much silence and deception to hide your relationship from the public—a decision the both of you agreed upon long before. Jihoon knew that the both of you were private people, and more than anything, you didn’t want anyone to become privy to your intimate relationships.

For the first time, in such a long time, Jihoon was able to hold you close. Gazing at you, at your real eyes, at that time, felt surreal. Jihoon always thought he knew almost everything about you, yet he had never anticipated that there were still a lot of things about you which he hadn’t discovered yet.

He never had thought how warm your touch was, how bright your grin was when you were scheming some prank, how loud your voice got when you were so passionate about something, how soft your lips were when you finally kissed for the first time. No matter how much technology brought you two together, nothing compared to actual, real life affection shared between lovers.

“I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe or if you strike out and you're crawling home...”

Jihoon remembers, as you sang, how you silently embraced him on nights when he felt the world was too heavy on his shoulders. You wouldn’t say anything to him until he would open up; patiently waiting as you tapped an irregular beat on his back. As easily as that, you’d erase all the stress that he had accumulated over time.

You didn’t need to say anything grand or moving, or make all of his problems disappear. Your simple gestures were already enough. You were already enough for him.

“I don’t deserve you, Y/N,” he whispered to you one night as he buried his face on your shoulder. “You’re everything that I want, but I’m not sure if I’m giving you everything that you want.”

You giggled, sighing as you brushed your fingers through his newly dyed hair.

“You don’t have to worry, Jihoon. You’ve given me so much that you never even realized it.”

He pouted, not liking how vague you were. “Like what?”

“Aren’t you just conveniently forgetting how many songs you’ve written for me?” you replied, a smirk on your lips as you twirled a lock of his around your finger.

“But…those are just songs! It’s not as special as the things you’ve done for me…”

“Don’t underestimate them, Ji,” you told him as you pulled back, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes. “I know how important music is to you, how it’s an extension of your feelings, and to be a part of it is something I’d consider meaningful.”

For a moment, Jihoon gazed at you; his eyes holding so much emotion. There it was that he knew—he was truly, deeply, madly in love with you.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

Feeling a strong urge, he leaned into you, capturing your lips into a deep and passionate kiss. Everything, everything that he felt for you at that time, he poured into that kiss, making you gasp for air. You cling to him for support, wholly surprised at his sudden intensity, yet not unwelcome at all.

As the both of you pulled away, Jihoon once again returned to your arms, allowing himself to be vulnerable before you.

“I truly don’t deserve you,” he whispered on your shoulder..

“After that incredible kiss?” you teased, “Statement denied.”

Jihoon groaned and you chuckled.

“I know you’re overthinking again, so I’ll say it clearly. You’re more than I ever wanted, Lee Jihoon.”

You paused, patting his head, tightening your arms around him.

“Whenever you call just to check up on me despite your busy schedule, whenever you share funny stories about the members, whenever you act cute and pouty when I ask you to do aegyo for me…what else…?”

He grunted disapprovingly at your comment and you giggled. “I don’t act cute.”

“You do, you know? You’re naturally and inherently cute,” you replied. “You’re cute when you make ramyeon for me even when I just eat the noodles, you’re cute when you offer to hold my bag or open the door for me, or when you insist on paying for dinner, and you’re so cute when you hold me close whenever I feel down and insecure about myself and my work.”

Jihoon was silent, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He thought you didn’t really catch on those little things he did, but he had underestimated your memory and your powers of observation.

“There’s a lot more I can say, you know? I should make a list for you and maybe stick it on your desk whenever you begin to question yourself again.”

He snorted. “No, thank you. The members would see it and I don’t want them to.”

“I’ll do it when you annoy me,” you joked, despite your words. “Now, I hope I’ve reassured your worries for tonight.”

Snuggling against your shoulder, Jihoon smiled. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere…”

As your words fell like chants into his ears, Jihoon was mesmerized by the image of you singing, his eyes wandering. A bitter memory relapsed into his mind, and a reminder that not everything was golden in your paradise.

It was a cold January night, snow had finally ceased falling at one in the morning. The both of you were inside his studio just like normal; a habit the two of you took comfort in. He was holding your hand tight, keeping it warm with his hands in his pocket, as you scrolled on your phone.

For a while, it felt normal. The sounds of the clock ticking, the gentle thrumming of your heartbeat, the soft breaths you both shared. Yet, just like that, everything gradually became colder. It wasn’t the actual temperature, but your mood as he watched your expression turn from amused to a deadpan frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, kissing your temple. For some reason, he had developed a rather intuitive connection with you over time, where he can easily sense your change of moods despite your lack of expression.

You sighed as you looked up, leaning against him. He wondered if you were pondering on telling him the truth, or just keep your thoughts hidden. Before he could actually express to you his own thoughts, you sighed and nestled yourself on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Jihoon, is this all a mistake?” you asked, your voice small.

He blinked, furrowing his brow at the complex question. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read a few things online.”

It was a simple thing to say, yet Jihoon immediately knew what you were talking about. With a sigh, he adjusted his position where he could wrap his arms around you tightly.

“People always talk, Y/N. We can’t do anything about it but continue living our own lives and ignore them.”

“But what if they reveal our relationship as a scandal and you’re forced to leave Seventeen? They could do that so easily, you know!” You asked with a weak voice, clinging to him tightly. “I don’t want that to happen. I’ll never let that happen, Jihoon!”

“Then we’ll announce before they do,” he easily replied, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Have you forgotten how strong the relationship between Carats and Seventeen is? Of course, some will react negatively, but I know that they would be accepting.”

Once more, Jihoon heard you sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just being selfish by being with you. A lot of people look up to you, Ji, and they all want a piece of your world. I don’t want to be possessive of you but sometimes I just question myself, like what if this is wrong? What if this was a mistake?”

Gazing into your eyes, Jihoon felt all of your concerns. It was already given that dating an idol would be hard, and moments of weakness like these could make your anxieties grow into deeper, darker shadows.

“It’s gonna be weird for me to say this but it’s ok to be selfish,” he told you, his words firm and certain. “Oh god, how do I say this…but look, Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with me. We’re a couple, and that’s normal. There’s nothing wrong with being a couple.”

“But you’re an idol! If they knew, people would say a lot of bad things about you, and I don’t want that!”

“No matter how many times they say I’m an idol, I’m a human being, first and foremost, and just like everybody else, I have my own personal life which doesn’t revolve around my job. People will always say a lot of bad things about me no matter what I do, but what’s important to me is that I have you by my side, I have everyone by my side. So don’t ever think that this is wrong. You and I are never wrong. Who are they to judge what is wrong or right for me when they don’t know who I am?”

Jihoon realized that after his speech, you turned silent, and instead buried yourself deeper against his chest.

“You’re important to me, Y/N. What other people say doesn’t matter to me anymore. As long as you’re here with me, I’m able to do anything.”

In a quiet voice, Jihoon caught your words. “Thank you for this, Ji…”

“But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we’re making mistakes…”

There was always a strange quality to time whenever he was with you. Sometimes time would slow down, sometimes it would pass by in just a blink of an eye. As he began to reminisce instead of actually listening, he realized just how much time had passed between the both of you.

“I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day…”

On that certain night, when the both of you were wrapped between sheets, when the bright lights of Seoul reflected on the stark white ceiling, when you were tangled in each others arms, listening to your own fast paced heartbeats after a long night, he remembers you pulling him close, brushing stray locks from his face.

“Jihoon...” you whispered under your breath, your fingers tracing circles on his cheekbones then down his jaw and to his lips. “You’re very handsome, did you know that?”

He smirked at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “What? You still haven’t gotten enough?”

In an instant your face heated up as you hit his toned chest playfully, making Jihoon laugh. “Ehh...! Don’t mention that now!”

As his devious eyes turned soft, he smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What is it then?”

You sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “I just thought that someday, I know, things wouldn’t be this way anymore.The spark wouldn’t be as strong as before, the butterflies will eventually disappear. Things would become mundane between us...”

There was a melancholic tone in your words; a detail which hadn’t escape his attention. Yet Jihoon knew that what you were talking about was reality. As the both of you would eventually be consumed by work, by responsibilities, by day to day obligations, it wasn’t a far off thought that the way you felt for each other would turn dim. He knew that, and he feared it.

“But, you know...” you continued, breaking him away from his own thoughts. “Even if that happens, I’m not scared. Even if love do fail us someday, I’m confident that we would still be together, that we can still fix it. Rather than lovers who’re friends, we’re friends who became lovers. Even if you and I will eventually drift off, we still have a strong friendship. And we can rebuild everything from there.”

Jihoon oftentimes wondered how you’re able to get these epiphanies. Your mind was deep and thoughtful, and that was one of the things he loved about you. Conversations with you were never dull as you bounced off ideas at one another. You would always say well-said ideas, often describing how he feels better than he ever will.

“I want to share exciting things with you, Jihoon. I want to be helplessly all over you. I want to feel aroused, flustered, or dying of laughter. But when things get boring or nothing is really happening, or when we have to face bills, chores, or responsibilities, I’ll stay with you.”

A hundredfold, you were better at making him feel loved. He admits that.

“You know, sometimes, I wonder what I’ve done in my past life for you to choose me,” he replied, a wide grin plastered on his face. “You’re everything that I could ever ask for, Y/N. Even if you don’t have to, you still take care of me so much. I swear I’ll make you happy even if I have to walk through fire or sleep on nails.”

“I don’t think that’ll make me very happy,” you replied, grinning. “But...wanna know what else that could make me happy?”

Jihoon arched an elegant brow at you, his lips curving into a smirk. Ah yes, he definitely knows. “I was absolutely right when I said you still haven’t had enough.”

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

Thinking of how much time has passed, how much the two of you had been through, almost left him in tears. The memories the both of you shared over the years was incredible that it was hard to let them go.

As he watched you finally sing the last few seconds of the song, Jihoon was sure that this moment would become another beautiful memory he would reminisce about one day in the future. It filled his heart, thinking about a pleasant future with you. A long time ago he had sang a song—doubting what kind of future was in store for him, yet now he already knows that it was something bigger, more beautiful that he had ever expected.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

As the final chord resounded across the room, both your eyes met in soft glances. You smiled at him, the sweetest, most loving smile you could ever muster, and then finally sang:

“...And I will hold on to you.”

Allowing the note to dissipate and disappear, you then turned to Jihoon with a bashful smile on your lips. “Well? Did you like your surprise?”

Already a blushing mess, Jihoon simply burst out giggling as you looked at him in confusion.

“Ya! Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed as you sulked, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt.

Still chuckling, he stood up, pulling you towards his arms as he captured you in a tight embrace. He felt at peace with you more than anywhere.

As it was apparent to you that he was in a rather good mood, you made a bemused smile as you wrapped your arms around him, also laughing on your own.

“What’s gotten into you now?” You asked as he pulled away, now able to gaze into your eyes.

“Nothing. I just thought you’re absolutely cute,” he replied as he cupped your cheeks, squishing them much to your chagrin.

“Seriously, Jihoon! Why’re you so happy?”

“Am I not allowed to be happy now?” he replied, his eyes turning into crescents.

You raised your brows at him with a grin. “You like my song, didn’t you?”

“And what if I did? It was a really nice song, you know.”

This time, it was your turn to burst out into giggles. It was hilarious how Jihoon was being so roundabout with admitting that he liked it; it was incredibly adorable.

“You’re so cute, Hoonie~”

It was no secret that he doesn’t appreciate being cooed at, as he made a small frown upon hearing your nickname for him.

“Now I don’t think I’m so happy anymore.”

“Oh c’mon!” You hit his chest lightly with a chuckle. “Tell me what you really think about it!”

His eyes filled to the brim with endearment for you, Jihoon stared into your eyes, trying to communicate how much he was so thankful that you entered his life.

“I like it. I love it, Y/N,” he replied, caressing your cheek. “It made me remember everything we’ve been through, and how much we’ve grown together.”

“And we’ll continue to the next year and in the future. Thank you for giving me your midnights, Jihoon.”

“My midnights would always be yours, as you will always be my mornings,” he gave you another embrace, embedding the feel of your skin against his, the way your hair brushes through his hands, the sound of your voice and the your scent—he will burn them all into his head so he won’t ever forget how much he loves you.

There were so many words that he could say so he could just express how he was thankful that you became a part of his life, yet none of them seemed fitting to say at that moment. Instead, as Jihoon finally decided upon, that it was best to leave them for future songs and say the words that he really wanted to say for such a long time now.

“I love you.”

-Hyeri

#seventeen #svtcreations #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon

76 notes · View notes

coffeecomicsgalore · 3 years

Text

She... Loves Me?

Ao3

Chapter 9 - Moving On

Adrien woke up feeling absolutely confused. The room was still dark but the colorful speckles of sunlight began to illuminate the grand space of his room. He looked over and noticed that Plagg was still comfortably asleep on his pillow and Adrien decided that he didn’t want to wake the kwami up to evaluate his dream.

He reached over to his tabletop and gathered his phone, realizing he still had another hour before he needed to get up for the day. While it was a Saturday, there wasn’t much that needed to be done as he gained an unexpected day off his normally packed weekend. The only thing he needed to do was go on an early morning patrol before attending the Bourgeois anniversary party in person that afternoon on behalf of his father.

He rolled his eyes at the thought of being there. At least Kagami would be there to help hold back the boredom of the festivities.

Adrien sighed as he leaned back against the pillows. He stared at the ceiling while thinking over his dream, the feeling of sadness and confusion wreaking havoc on his heart and mind.

It started with Ladybug smiling at him. It was probably after something he said—he wasn’t entirely sure—before looking to the side and frowning. Adrien remembered that he frowned too, before following her gaze and noticing Kagami beside her. She had a smile on her face, sincerity and happiness in her eyes as she looked right back at him. He could feel himself smile before something made him hesitate.

His dream became fuzzy for a moment, but then he remembered seeing Marinette staring out to the Seine and that action made him wonder. She was leaning over the stone wall, her arms crossed over the top. She looked as though she was trying to make herself smaller, her shoulders slumped over as she let out a heavy sigh. He could see the sliver of a frown on her face, but he gasped as he noticed the tears running along her cheeks.

Adrien wanted to reach out to her. He remembered that he tried to stick his arms out in hopes to reach her, even going as far as trying to call out to her and ask her what was wrong. But suddenly, Kagami came back to the dream and took his hand moving him away from her. At the same moment, he noticed that Ladybug was in the process of swinging away, making him feel more and more confused as the dream continued on.

Hearing Kagami’s soft spoken words made him forget the world around him for a moment, that was until the sounds of screams could be heard. He looked around to see if there was an akuma, but instead he caught the scene of Marinette falling into the water jarring him enough to shake himself from her grasp.

He couldn’t transform with Kagami being right there, so he rushed over to the wall to see where she could have gone.

“Marinette!” He screamed out as he continued to stare into the very calm water. There was no indication that anyone fell.

“Marinette?” Kagami calmly stated. “Don’t you mean Ladybug? She left.”

Adrien looked at Kagami with another confused expression. “I just saw Marinette fall into the river. Why did Ladybug leave?”

“Marinette isn’t here, silly. You just talked to her.” He did? “She was with Luka, remember?” She was?

Adrien continued to think it over, his head beginning to hurt as he did. “Then who screamed?”

“No one screamed. Ladybug yelled out that it’s okay and move on. Change targets.”

Move on? Change targets? But…

Adrien sighed as he blinked away the remnants of the dream. He stared out once again to the ceiling. Why was Ladybug upset? Why was Marinette upset? Why was Kagami the only one okay with everything?

“It’s okay to move on…” Was this a sign?

As much as he hated to say it, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. But maybe this was the sign that he needed to try. He just had to confirm it one last time.

---

Chat and Ladybug looked over the city, the warmth overtaking them as they relaxed. They had just finished patrol and they were enjoying the quiet moment to themselves before going back to the chaos of their lives.

“Oh, by the way, I didn’t tell you, did I? I have a girlfriend.” Chat announced happily, even though the thought turned his stomach.

“Really? That’s so awesome!” Ladybug replied with a smile, the cheerful tone stabbing him in the heart.

“No, it’s not awesome at all. I just said that to make you jealous.”

Ladybug softened her expression as she looked at him. “I can’t be in love with you, Chat Noir. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Chat looked down, looking pained at the response that would shape the next chapter of his life. “But it still hurts.”

Chat removed his staff as he let out a heavy sigh, leaving his lady along with the remnants of his shattered heart behind him.

-----

Chat Noir leaped into his room before calling off his transformation.

Sitting in the chair, he pulled out his phone, once again going through his gallery as he thought over the last attempt at trying to woo his lady’s heart. He let out a sigh, before the ringing of his computer screen alerted him to a notification.

Oh. He thought. One of his friends had posted a new photo.

A small smirk curled on his lips as he noticed who had posted the image before moving onto reading the small caption that told the world what the photo was about. Marinette and Kagami had gone out for orange juice, both smiling as they sat at a table, the Notre Dame could be seen right behind them. His eyes softened as he continued to stare at the picture, finally clicking the heart button after a few moments to share his appreciation of his two friends.

Maybe everything will be okay… he thought as he continued to stare at the photo.

“Ha…” Plagg sighed out, stuffing his face with a wedge of Camembert as he continued to speak and letting out a small giggle at the end. “You finally realized that there is more than one type of cheese in this world.”

Adrien furrowed his brows as he turned to his kwami, the small creature sitting comfortably on top of his fencing team’s photo.

He was about to retort, but the hard knocks to his door made him pause.

“Adrien.” Nathalie called out to him through the door before opening it to address him personally. “It’s time to go to the Bourgeois party. Your father is expecting you to attend with utmost professionalism.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, silently wishing he could skip this entirely.

“Yes, Nathalie.” Adrien responded back before standing up and heading towards the door to follow her into the foyer.

“Remember, Miss Tsurugi will be in attendance. You will accompany her and her mother during the event.

Adrien only nodded as they made their way to the waiting sedan, the confusion from earlier making him feel off.

#she loves me #poor adrien #confused adrien #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

bittysvalentines · 4 years

Text

la dolce far niente

To: @insertatitlehere

From: @wrathofthestag

For @insertatitlehere who wanted some family drama, pets, some introspective Jack, or social media. How about all of them? :) I hope you like it. From @wrathofthestag

Fic Summary: With Bitty out of town for a few days, can Jack learn to unwind and enjoy the sweetness of doing nothing?

Rating: General Audience.

It had come as a surprise. Just as Jack and Bitty had settled in for an evening of Netflix and Chinese takeout to enjoy the last sleepy summer days before Jack’s preseason the call came in.

“He did what?” Bitty sat upright on the couch, practically knocking over the bowl of pepper steak on his lap. “Oh no!”

Jack looked at Bitty, who in turn, stroked Jack’s arm and shook his head, as their husky, Netty, nervously paced around the room.

“Coach broke his leg, he’s okay,” Bitty quickly whispered then returned to the call at hand. “What did the doctor say?”

Bitty spoke to Suzanne, throwing out an occasional, “uh-huh,” and finally hung up with a big whooshing exhale.

“What happened, Bits? Is Coach okay?”

“That darn man! He insisted on cleaning the gutters himself—even after mama warned him not to—and he slipped as he was coming down the ladder. Bam! Broken fibula!”

And just like that, Bitty was off to Madison the next day to help Suzanne out and act as referee between her and his Aunt Marlene.

The night of Bitty’s departure, Jack sat in bed catching up on long-ignored emails. He waited for Bitty to text him, letting him know he arrived safely.

He saw an email from Ruben, the Falcs head of social media, and groaned. The subject was read Social Media Update. He’d been on Jack for a while to get his Instagram going and much to Jack’s chagrin, George agreed.

Ruben had called Jack into his office, a while back, and Jack already knew what was coming.

"George said photography’s your hobby,” Ruben said matter-of-factly. “So let's set you up with an Instagram."

"Bitty already did, I just haven't done anything with it," Jack said as he fidgeted with the Falcs paperweight on Ruben’s desk.

"Jack, the only thing worse than no social media is bad social media," Ruben sighed.

"You sound just like Bitty, " Jack said as he shrugged helplessly.

"Yeah, well, there’s a reason I like that boy." Ruben smiled. "Now let's get some content in there.”

Since that meeting, Jack uploaded exactly zero images. That was three weeks ago. He now took to ducking into empty rooms whenever he’d see Ruben walking his direction.

+++

Jack's alarm had gone off twenty minutes ago but he remembered the conversation he had with Bitty before he left...

“Why don’t you finally do all those little things you’ve been wanting to do, but never have time?”

“Little things?”

“Yeah, you know. Treat yourself."

Bitty leaned in and kissed Jack. A big lush kiss.

"You know how you’re always saying you want to sleep in more, try some new recipes, read a book on the balcony—those things. Do it. Do a little nothing."

Jack smiled thinking of the possibilities, and so he opted to stay in bed. He stretched lazily and watched the sunlight waft in. The light made curious shapes on the bedroom ceiling.

He turned to look at Bitty's side of the bed. Even though Jack had the entire bed to himself, he stayed on his side the entire night. He reached over and took Bitty's pillow and pressed it to his face. It no longer smelled of him, but Jack hugged it to his chest.

Just then Netty walked in, the look on her face clearly demanded breakfast. She gingerly strolled over and placed her chin on the empty side and looked up at Jack through lowered lashes.

"I know, girl. I miss him too."

Netty’s tail wagged.

Bitty was never really a pet person, and it had taken a whole month for him to really warm up to Netty, but when Jack went a long roadie, Netty stuck to Bitty’s side. By the time Jack returned, Bitty now called her Punkin, Cookie, Biscuit, and about a million other baking-related nicknames.

“Jack, she’s just so sweet—and has your eyes. Don’t you, my little praline?” Bitty had said as he scratched Netty’s chin.

Jack put the pillow down and sat up. Netty perked up.

"All right, let's get you some food and we'll go out for a run. Let me just see if I got any messages from Bits."

Jack reached for his phone and checked it. He already had a message waiting for him.

Bitty: Morning, handsome! Text me when you're up. Say hi to my little cupcake.

Jack: Netty said your pillow is VERY soft. We might have to make room for her every night.

Bitty: Jack Laurent, please tell me you did not let her sleep in our bed.

Jack: Maybe?

Bitty: Jack!

Jack: Haha. Just kidding. I might, though. The bed's too big without you.

Bitty: <3333

Jack smiled. He got out of bed and turned back to look at it. He was struck with the urge to take a photo of it, and then on a whim opened up Instagram. Scrolling through the filters, Jack felt overwhelmed by all the choices so he skipped that part and typed his caption.

The bed feels too big this morning.

He smiled and pressed "share."

"Shit. Was I supposed to do hash things?"

Netty looked up at him and Jack frowned. He edited the post and tagged Bitty.

"There."

Jack walked into the bathroom and saw his toothbrush sitting solitary. He felt an instant pang of longing as he missed having Bitty's toothbrush next to his. A toothbrush. Jack felt so silly. The chirping would have been endless if the guys—Samwell and Falcs alike—could see him now.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror and blushed. Jack decided in that instance that rather than feeling sorry for himself (Bitty had only been gone one day and Jack needed to pull himself together, tabarnak) he would document his day to show Bitty what he was doing. Also, he could finally get his Instagram going and get Ruben off his back, but mainly it was for Bitty… and a little teeny bit for Jack.

The caption read: Good oral hygiene is the cornerstone to any healthy smile. Which comes in handy when you have someone who makes you smile. @omgcheckplease

After he brushed his teeth, Jack walked to the kitchen and poured some kibble into Netty's bowl and she eagerly dug. Jack took out the coffee grounds from the cupboard and was about to get the pot going when he stopped and remembered the Chemex Nursey had gotten him for his birthday.

He had used it a few times, but mainly he’d stick to the coffee machine because Bitty would be so antsy for his morning cup. This time, however, Jack knew he could be a bit slower. He'd drink that “hipster bullshit”—Shitty's words, not Jack's—and really savor his morning cup.

He ground the beans and set the kettle to boil. He folded a coffee filter into a conical shape and wet it. After he had placed it on top of the Chemex, he put the grounds into the filter. Once the water was ready, Jack slowly poured it over the grounds and watched it drip, drip, drip away.

Jack's thoughts suddenly took him to his childhood. Every morning when maman was home, he'd make her coffee. He hadn't thought about it in years, but he would get up early (anxious insomnia kept slept at bay often for young Jack) and make her some coffee in the old silver Italian percolator that always sat on the stove.

"Jacky, you made me coffee!" Alicia would say every single time, sounding just as surprised and genuine as the time before.

He remembered how he watched her carefully a few times and then memorized all the steps so that one day, he would be able to do it on his own. And he did! Jack felt less alone somehow, brewing coffee for his mother as the rest of the world slept.

A great cup of coffee this morning, thanks to @derekmaliknurse’s birthday gift. @omgcheckplease should I pour you a cup? #chemex

Netty pressed her nose to Jack's calf.

"Hey, girl. As soon as I'm done with my coffee, I promise we’ll go."

Just then, his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Do my eyes fucking deceive me?"

"Hey, Shits."

"Don't 'Hey, Shits,' me."

"What do you mean?"

Jack could already hear the teasing mirth in Shitty's voice.

"Well, I'm sitting here in Haus 2.0, chowing on some cereal, having my morning caw-fee, scrolling through my ‘Gram when lo and behold, not one but two—two motherfucking super soft JLZ posts appear on my feed."

Jack grinned. "Oh?"

"I just about spat out my Oops Berries, brah."

"The front office asked me to step up my online presence, that's all."

"That's all? Lemme talk to Bitty."

"He's in Madison."

"Madison? Why?"

"Coach broke his leg and he's out there helping Suzanne."

Shitty was quiet, almost too quiet.

"Shits?" Jack asked, eyebrow quirked.

Shitty guffawed. "Jack, I love you but let's call a spade a spade."

"What do you mean?" He asked feeling transparent.

"Brah, you're not doing that for the front office. You're sending Bitty a visual love letter through Instagram. You’re wooing him with images, and I gotta tell you, I fucking dig it."

Jack grinned. "I don't know what you mean."

Shitty snorted. "Right. Yeah. Okay. Listen, who am I to stand in the way of your courtly lovin' ways? Personally, I dig it. You go with your sweet displays of man-on-man affection--"

"I'm hanging up now, " Jack laughed.

"All I'm saying is prepare to be either chirped within an inch of your life or fawned all over online."

"Bye, Shitty."

"Bye, you Ansel Adams mofo. You better dedicate a post to meeeee!"

Jack laughed. He shook his head as he picked up his mug and walked out to the balcony.

Taking a small sip, Jack relished the robust aroma of the coffee which had hints of chocolate and pepper. He hummed happily. The silky lush coffee slipped down this throat deliciously while he sat and watched the morning sky finish making her appearance.

+++

During Netty's walk (Jack chose to opt out of a run that morning), they stopped at the corner bakery he and Bitty like so much. The morning rush hour crowd had long died down. He got in line and watched as an employee brought out a tray of chocolate croissants, fragrant and fresh.

"Hey, Jack," Kamal, the owner, said as Jack reached the register.

"Hey."

"No Eric today?"

"No. He's visiting his parents for a few days. It’s just me and Netty."

They both turned toward the window and saw her patiently sitting by the lamppost.

"Cool. So, one low-fat bran muffin?" Kamal asked as he began to ring up the order.

Jack looked at the croissants.

"No, I'll have two chocolate croissants and a peanut butter dog biscuit."

"All right, all right.” Kamal smiled. “Treat yourself, man."

Jack smiled. "Yeah, something like that."

Jack untied Netty and they made their way to the dog park down the street. He sat on a bench as he watched her run to and fro, while he ate his pain au chocolat.

+++

“It is little wonder that for Jack the Ripper, the ‘Liston Knife’ was the weapon of choice during his killing spree in 1888.”

Jack closed his copy of The Butchering Art, as he finished reading the chapter to Netty, who seemed quite enthralled while she rested at the foot of the couch where he lounged. She then gave out a loud yawn.

“I was going to order some food, but how about I make us something instead?” Jack said to Netty.

Jack put down his book and polished off the last dregs of his tea as Netty lazily wagged her tail a few times. Jack quickly took Netty’s picture and posted it. The caption read: She’s practically a baked good now and has no clue. Right, @omgcheckplease? #husky

He sat up and stretched as he made his way to the kitchen. Jack scratched at his belly and opened the fridge. There was some deli meat, a couple tamales Bitty got from the local carniceria, half a cheesecake, packages of fresh meat, and various odds and ends. Jack knew there were some chicken tenders in the freezer, but he wanted something else… something different.

Jack: Debating what I should have for dinner.

Bitty: I’m surprised you’re not ordering from Star of Siam.

Jack: I was going to but changed my mind.

Bitty: What are you in the mood for?

Jack: Not sure. Something good.

Bitty: Aw! I wish I was there so I could feed you.

Jack: What would you do?

Bitty: Hmm… after giving you a bunch of kisses, maybe some spaghetti and meatballs? Put some meat on your bones. You’re wasting away, Mr. Zimmermann.

Jack: Haha. That does sound good, actually.

Bitty: You know MooMaw’s recipe box? The one on top of the fridge?

Jack: The yellow box?

Bitty: Yep! Pull her spaghetti and meatball recipe and make that.

Jack walked over to the fridge and opened the small metal box. He found recipe after recipe handwritten on index cards, some yellowed with age, some written in Bitty’s neat script.

Spaghetti and Meatballs - Made with Love by Irene

Jack read the recipe: ground beef, onion, eggs, milk, garlic, crushed tomatoes, parmesan cheese. Reading it alone made his stomach growl. He opened the fridge again and saw he had most of the ingredients on hand. He opened the cupboard and found the rest.

Jack: I’m making MooMaw’s spaghetti and meatballs. And I love you for having all the ingredients in the house.

Bitty: Be sure to send me a picture of how it turned out.

Jack: Have you been online at all today?

Bitty: No, I haven’t. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? I’ve been running errands for Mama all over town. I’m getting ready to make a chicken casserole and then finally sit for a bit. Why?

Jack: No reason.

Bitty: Skype tonight?

Jack: 9?

Bitty: See you then, handsome. xoxo

Jack smiled as he gathered all the ingredients on the counter.

“Alexio, play Wilco by Wilco on Spotify.”

The smart speaker began to play as the music floated through the kitchen. Jack rarely listened to music in the house. He preferred to let Bitty play whatever he wanted and instead saved his tunes for the car.

“You and your old man music,” Bitty would sweetly chirp whenever they were in Jack’s car.

Bitty would lean over and raise the volume for Jack and begin singing to whatever song was playing—even if he didn’t know the words. Bitty would make them up as he went along. Each one smiling as the wind would blow through their hair. Bitty’s smile like sunshine while Jack would gently stroke his leg as they drove down the Providence streets.

“Alexio, call Papa.”

Jack began cutting onions for the sauce, referring back to MooMaw’s recipe, as his phone rang through the speaker.

“Allô?”

“Hey, Papa.”

“Jack, what a surprise. I wasn’t expecting your call until Sunday.”

“I know, but I wanted to call you now.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m just making some dinner. Bitty is visiting his parents for a few days, and I just wanted to see how you and Maman were.”

«Missing your boy, are you?»

Jack smiled, even as his eyes stung from the onion. «Yeah, but I’m also missing you and Maman.»

«What are you making?»

«Spaghetti and meatballs. I’m using Bitty’s grandmother’s recipe.»

«Do you remember that summer, you must have been about four or so, and the only thing you wanted to eat was spaghetti.»

Jack paused. He placed the tip of the knife down onto the butcher block. «I don’t remember that.»

Bob laughed. «Really? I’m surprised. You were very adamant about it. Your poor mother was so upset that you wouldn’t eat anything else.»

Jack laughed. «Crisse, I think I do remember! Did she make it for breakfast?»

Jack recalled sitting at their kitchen table in Pittsburgh (He always liked that house because the backyard was enormous, they got a dog. Wayne, the golden retriever) and swinging his legs back and forth as Maman placed a bowl of pasta in front of him. The tang of the sauce, the gooey cheese being pulled from his lips. It all came back to him.

«How is Maman?» Jack asked warmly.

«She’s out with Louisa and Marie—they’re at a wine tasting or something. Who can keep track?» Bob said. Jack could hear the mirth in his voice.

«Well, I just wanted to say a quick hi, and I better get back to this otherwise I’ll never finish.»

«Sounds good, son. Send me a photo.»

«Will do. Talk to you on Sunday.»

«Love you, Jack.»

«Love you, too, Papa.»

Jack began to sing along to Wilco once again and he tossed the onion into the ground beef...

Jack sprinkled some parsley on the top of his dish and smiled.

“Not bad, eh, Netty?”

She looked up at him expectantly, hoping for a bite. He scratched the back of Netty’s ears, then scooped a little pasta and a couple of meatballs into her dog bowl.

He took out his phone and opened up Instagram again.

Homemade spaghetti and meatballs based on @omgcheckplease’s grandmother’s recipe. I hope I made y’all proud.

Jack shared the photo and instantly closed the app.

“Come on girl, let’s eat.”

Netty followed Jack to the dining room where he put both dishes on the table. Netty jumped up onto one of the chairs. Jack smiled contently as Netty began to dig in, and he soon followed.

+++

It was almost nine and Jack began to get ready for Bitty’s phone call. He had cleared the dishes and placed them all in the dishwasher. The leftovers were in the fridge and he remembered there was half a key lime cheesecake in the fridge. Jack took it out, cut a big slice and poured himself a glass of milk.

Jack took a photo of cheesecake and shared it on Instagram. The caption read: A day of doing sweet nothing ends with a sweet something. Wishing @omgcheckplease was here.

He stood at the kitchen counter and dug in; each bite delicious and sweet, reminding him of Bitty in every possible way.

He took another forkful of cheesecake and finally looked at his Instagram notifications. Jack did a triple take—he had so many likes and comments, he didn’t even know where to begin. So many were from strangers, too. It was a little overwhelming, so he decided to just look at comments from people he knew.

rubenalmanzoSM: Well done @jlzimmermann1

bsknightESQ: Brah! When you cooking for me? Did you ever know that you’re my hero??

derekmailknurse: I’ll get you some Stumptown beans. #chemexforlife

AliciaZimmermannProd: Look at you! On Instagram.

thelarissaduan: I told Shits I would not chirp. (Even though I really want to. Esp. with that bed pic, dude.) #softbro

omgcheckplease: I love this... and you.

Jack closed Instagram and yawned as he made his way to the bedroom. He pulled his laptop into bed and at nine opened up Skype and called Bitty.

Bitty’s face appeared, looking sleepy and tired, but smiling brightly the instant he saw Jack.

“Hey, there, handsome.”

Bitty was in his bedroom, in bed, with his back against the headboard.

“Bits,” Jack said.

He turned onto his side and rested his head on the crook of his arm. The laptop sat on the mattress next to him.

“You are the sweetest, most beautiful boy in the entire world.”

“Am I?”

“You are! I saw all of your Insta posts.”

Jack could feel himself blush.

“They weren’t too… boring?”

“No! I love them! They were lovely.”

“They were all for you,” Jack said softly.

“I know.”

Bitty reached out to touch the screen and Jack immediately did the same.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“I swear Jack, I thought I was going to have to break up some fisticuffs between Mama and Aunt Marlene.”

Jack chuckled. “That bad, eh?”

“The worst. I’m so glad I’m coming home the day after tomorrow. Poor Coach was basically like, ‘Save yourself, son!’”

“I miss your face,” Jack said simply and unguarded.

“Lord, I miss yours too. So much…”

The two looked at each other as if they had nowhere else in the world they’d rather be.

“So, how was your day? It looked pretty nice from what I saw,” Bitty said as he finally spoke.

“It was. I did a little nothing, all day.”

“And my little strudel?”

“She helped. Turns out she’s a pro at it.”

Bitty chuckled. “I love it. And how was it?”

Several years ago, Jack was in his therapist’s waiting room and was idly leafing through a copy of Psychology Today when he came across an article that made him pause. He began to read it, and at the time found it to be completely absurd. The article was about la dolce far niente, or the sweetness of doing nothing.

“Maybe you sit and read a book. Maybe you stare out the window or balcony and listen to your favorite musician,” the article read. “What can you do today to begin doing nothing?”

Jack frowned as he read, not understanding what was so great about remaining idle. It wasn’t until he began a relationship with Bitty that he truly understood what doing nothing could mean. They could do nothing while they snuggled in bed, they could do nothing while they sat on the couch as the rain poured outside as Bitty slowly ran his fingers through Jack’s hair.

Nothing with Bitty came to mean everything to Jack, and soon Jack began to appreciate doing nothing by himself. He understood that he didn’t have to be “on,” all the time. 95% was okay. La dolce far niente.

“Well?” Bitty asked again.

“It was sweet, Bits,” Jack replied with a smile. “Very sweet.”

#bittyjack #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

94 notes · View notes

coppicefics · 3 years

Photo

Masked Omens: Week Four

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Opinion section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 16th January, 2021. Full image description and transcript below the cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

(Falling records template from Pixeden)

The Capital Herald, Saturday 16th January 2021 Opinion, page 20

Main Story: TOFFLEY GATE: FIFTEEN YEARS ON, IT’S NO HOME Where is the affordable housing that was promised? And why can’t local people get access to it? The Toffley Gate development once seemed like that most elusive of rarities; a politician's campaign promise made real. When Lawrence Richmond, a distinguished barrister, was elected as MP for Toffley South in 2005, it was partly on the strength of his pledge to build a brand new block of affordable accommodation for the people of Toffley. In fact, if you ask most local voters why the future Transport Secretary won his seat, they'll point in the direction of Toffley Gate. The development, it was claimed, would create jobs in the area, boost property values, and allow more buyers and renters on low incomes to invest wisely in their future. Fifteen years on, how are those claims holding up? Well, the development did indeed bring in construction jobs, as well as long-term positions in the shops and services on Toffley Gate's street level. As construction continued, however, some concerns were raised – even as early as February of 2006, seven months before the grand opening – that changes to the specification meant almost all the flats in the towering buildings would be described as luxury apartments, rather than affordable housing. But as long as they were still rented out at low rates, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. When the development's 312 flats were put on the market, however, 276 of them were priced at luxury rates. The remaining thirty-six were a single block of small studio apartments, suitable for a single occupant or two, a far cry from the family homes Richmond had promised to provide. Protests followed, in 2009 and 2010, but it was too late. Now, fifteen years on, only 194 Toffley Gate units are occupied. The rest remain empty and useless, far beyond the means of most local residents and workers. The Capital Herald popped into the local coffee shop to canvas opinions. “Oh, they're lovely, aren't they?” said Gladys Jones, retired, who'd stopped in with her grandson, Chris, a student. “I'd love one of those balconies, but not on my pension.” And Chris? “They're going for what, two or three grand a month? I could work for years and never save up enough to live there.” What would he like to see done with the place? “Drop the prices, maybe set them up as student accommodation, the uni's always oversubscribed. Or just... make sure normal people can afford them, you know?” “I put my name on the waiting list for the cheap flats when the place opened, when I was about twenty-five,” Jenny Tyler, a teacher, told me. I asked her what changed her mind. “No, I'm still on the list. Fifteen years, I'm still on the list.” Has she considered applying for one of the more expensive unused units? “No. On a teacher's pay? No, in fact, I'm moving back in with my dad. It's cheaper to commute in from Tadfield than to keep paying rent in Toffley.” And what of those behind the counter? Of the three employees on shift, two had joined the waiting list for the affordable housing at Toffley Gate. All three agreed that they'd love to live in one of the fancier units, if it were possible. One, Tom, has a second job as a cleaner on the development. “I have to clean all the luxury homes, even the empty ones,” he said. “And there are a lot of empty ones. Even the ones where you can tell someone's moved in, there's hardly any sign of life. It almost seems like an investment property type thing, but I don't know how they can be making money without sub-letting it.” When approached for comment, Lawrence Richmond – an Eton graduate who lives in a large historic house with his wife and son – argued that he is not responsible for market rates, nor for setting the level of affordable housing provision within the development. Why, then, did he make such grandiose promises during his election campaign in 2005? And why, sixteen years on and after several protests, is he still in office? If Richmond is as keen on affordable housing as he claimed to be in 2005 – as he has continued to claim, during the run-up to every local election since then – there must be something he can do, in his capacity as Toffley's MP, to encourage the building's owners, Selectan Homes Plc, to lower rents and allow lower-income families to access the many unoccupied units in the building. Surely it would be a win-win situation; Selectan would reap the rewards of a fully-let building, existing Toffley Gate residents would benefit from an invigorated community, and local people could live in the area where they actually worked. The businesses established at the base of the Toffley Gate tower blocks would have as many customers as they could want. In short, Lawrence Richmond, what are you waiting for? TINA MOON

[Image Description: A colour photograph of a gleaming block of flats. End ID] [Caption] Toffley Gate gleams in the sunshine. But are its units overpriced? (Photo: Daniel Brubaker on Unsplash)

Right hand column: OLD TUNES ARE BEST How wonderful to hear some music from the good old days on ITV’s The Masked Singer. When I sat down to watch it - under duress, I’ll admit, and largely to keep my wife and daughters happy - I expected nothing but noise of the variety that makes up the modern singles chart. Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when several of the songs reminded me of the heady days of my youth. Some, of course, were older still, overshooting the perfect era of my teenage years to land in the tragically uncool Jazz Age, but for the most part over the last few weeks I have been able to sing along with abandon, embarrassing my daughters no end and infuriating my wife, who is desperately trying to ascertain the identities of all of the disguised celebrities inside the ludicrous costumes. I doubt we’ve ever heard any of those voices before, given that the really big names in entertainment no doubt have better things to do than make such fools of themselves on a Saturday night, so I won’t be participating in the silly guessing game. Instead, I’m picking my favourites based on the songs they sang in the first few weeks. Snake is my favourite, by virtue of singing a Whitesnake song in the first live show, and it was a good enough performance that I will, for now, dismiss last week’s show as merely a momentary lapse in skill and judgement. Bonfire got everyone in my house smiling with ‘Disco Inferno’, and it’s rare that my children and I agree on anything, so they have to be the house favourite. Axolotl chose wisely in channelling Kermit the Frog, a universally beloved entertainer, and Pony’s tribute to America with ‘Horse With No Name’ was very enjoyable, too. So, I don’t know who Snake is but I’m rooting for them anyway, it seems. Who knows what tonight will bring? READER’S LETTER FROM DEREK METTE

Coupon, bottom third of page: [Image Description: Graphic of two falling record sleeves, with corresponding vinyl records also falling beside them. The first album sleeve shows two silhouettes of a face, looking towards each other in the style of the face/vase optical illusion, and is labelled “talking about it - Anathema”. The second shows a closeup of hands holding a book, and is labelled “Anathema - Narrative Devices”. At the bottom of the graphic are track listings. “Talking About It: Talking About it, Here I Go, Talking in Circles, The Magic Word, Seventh Sense, Pour My Heart Out, Nobody’s Fault, For A Spell, Living In The Past, Parting Words. Narrative Devices: Narrative Devices, Stab In The Dark, Look Before You Leap, Out Of The Crowd, Daisy Chains, I Hate To Leave, Ashes, Eagle Eyes, End of Days, Parting Ways.” End ID.] EXCLUSIVE DISCOUNT FOR CAPITAL HERALD READERS Exclusive to the Capital Herald, this voucher entitles you to 50% off the listed price of Anathema's first album, Talking About It, when you buy her new album, Narrative Devices. Featuring hit singles 'Daisy Chains' and 'End of Days', Narrative Devices has been described as 'a breath of fresh air for folk music' and 'a powerful meditation on the stories we tell ourselves every day'. 'Talking About It' contains the gorgeous ballad 'For A Spell', which has already sold over half a million units as a single in the two years since its release. Don't miss out on this amazing deal! Just take this coupon to your nearest participating retailer, or enter code CAP50 when ordering online. [Image Description: A barcode marked ‘FOR RETAILER USE’, from barcode.tec-it.com, and a QR code, from qr-code-generator.com. End ID.] Voucher expires 12AM 23/01/21. At participating retailers only. While stocks last. Not valid outside of fanfiction. For full terms and conditions, see page 28.

#masked omens #mo week four #good omens fic #very much fake news #masked singer au #mine

1 note · View note

wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 138

Chapter Summary - Danielle and Tom barely make it in the door home before they enjoy their night even more, but the next morning, it is not a hangover that has Danielle feeling queasy.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

Tom barely heard the door of the house close before he pushed Danielle against it, kissing her hungrily. ‘You fucking tease.’

‘What’s the matter? You seem a little frustrated.’ She grinned wickedly. He began to kiss her again, his hand sliding up her leg before pushing her skirt out of the way. ‘What, here?’

‘Can’t wait.’ Tom moaned, pushing her up so that she was off the ground and was caught between him and the door, lifting her skirt higher again and pulling down her underwear. At the same time, she was fighting with his suit. Barely getting his boxers out of the way, he pushed into her, knowing she was wet from the playing and teasing she had done in the taxi home. She gasped as he bottomed out in her pinning her hands over her head with one hand while the other held her thigh up. Danielle found purchase on the radiator cover that was inside the hallway next to the door using that to alleviate some of her weight from Tom as he concentrated in thrusting his hips, kissing her passionately as he did so. ‘So beautiful.’

‘Fuck, Tom.’ Danielle moaned as he moved. ‘Fuck.’ He moved faster and faster until the door knocker began to rap against the door on the other side. ‘Tom, too loud, neighbours.’

‘Fuck em.’ He swore, too busy enjoying the sensation of Danielle’s body against his.

‘Can’t, I’m fucking you.’

‘I think you will find that it’s the other way around, Darling.’ Tom chuckled as he continued what he was doing. When the door knocker began to become louder, he swore again before pulling them away from the door and to the wall over next to the radiator, giving Danielle better purchase and continued his previous rhythm, his forehead against hers and his mouth open as he gasped and groaned in the pleasure, his hand once more pinning hers above them. ‘I want to see how long this takes.’ He grinned as he continued to move. ‘God, you feel so good.’

Danielle simply concentrated on not allowing her leg slip from its place of purchase as well as focusing on the incredible pleasure Tom was having her experience. She loved teasing him all evening, knowing that the few whiskeys he had were causing him to become a tad aroused and the manner in which he was eyeing her chest making it very clear. She had thought they would make it through the hallway of their home before he would want to ravish her, but as he continued to slap his hips against her, trying to get as much of himself into her as possible, he created the most incredible pleasure for her. Tom shifted slightly to lift her more as his grip was slipping, in doing so, he forced the angle of his thrusts to alter and begin to cause him to hit against every area, inside and out of Danielle’s body that gave her pleasure.

The sounds she made told Tom everything he needed to know, and to his relief, he was elated to hear she was close to her own orgasm as he was nearing his, so ignoring the pain in his hand from holding a large portion of her weight at such an obscure angle and continued what he was doing so to give her the pleasure he knew she yearned for. On hearing her gasps become harsher and more frequent, as well as the occasional moan, he knew she was reaching her peak, so he pressed his lips to hers and concentrated his efforts until he felt her fight against the hand that was holding hers above their heads and felt her fist clench as her body became overcome with pleasure. She moaned loudly as it all became too much and she fell over the edge of her orgasm. Tom cherished the feeling of her body falling apart around him before allowing himself fall over also; brushing his nose up her face alongside her own, his mouth before he clenched his teeth and heard himself groan her name as his hand fell from holding hers and helped him carry her weight as his legs felt unsteady at his orgasm. Lowering Danielle gently to the ground, he slowly pulled out of her. ‘Thank you.’

‘What for, you did all the work, not me.’

‘For today, thank you.’ He smiled. ‘I...I cannot tell you how much it meant to me to have you by my side.’

‘It was different and terrifying.’ She saw the concern on his face. ‘But I am glad I was there for you.’

‘So, more in the future?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded with a smile. ‘If you want me there, then yes.’

Elated, he kissed her with even more passion than before. ‘Do you think Luke is mad?’

Danielle giggled. ‘We controlled ourselves, barely. If he had been in the taxi home with us, however…’

‘I cannot help it, not with you looking as you do. So beautiful.’ He kissed her again.

Danielle’s hands cupped his face, going through his bristly facial hair that had, for now, become a constant feature on his face, and with the longer hair, she had to admit, she adored it. Tom was elated by her reaction, noting how she bit her lip often when looking at him or gave other small indicators as to loving his appearance. ‘Well, I don’t think I will be too welcome again if this will be a constant feature, poor Luke will have kittens when we finally go too far.’

‘Oh, a “when”?’ Tom grinned. ‘You have me intrigued now. What do you envision, a romp in a coat closet?’

‘Well, we did just fuck inside the front door.’

‘I regret nothing.’ He kissed her hand. ‘We do need bed though.’

‘Most definitely.’ Danielle agreed, rushing up the stairs.

‘Elle?’

‘I am not staining anything with your bodily fluids.’ She called back.

‘Fair enough.’ He acknowledged, followed her up, not enjoying the feel of his now damp boxers that he had pulled back up to prevent the same issue.

‘Morning, Darling.’ Danielle turned around to see Tom lying down in the bed next to her.

‘Hey. What time is it?’

‘Half nine.’

‘A sleep in.’

‘Yes.’ Tom pulled her to him and kissed her.

‘Again?’

‘If you’re up for it.’ He grinned cheekily.

‘Insatiable.’ She chuckled, giving him a kiss before going under the covers and kissing her way down his body while he bit his lower lip and moaned as she specifically chose areas of his body she knew tortured him in the most pleasurable way.

‘Well, what are the reviews?’

Tom looked up from his phone to see Danielle patting her hair dry. ‘Good.’

‘Yeah?’ Her smile was one of genuine delight.

‘You seem somewhat surprised.’

‘Well, I like it but I am not a critic, they influence cinema-goers to come and see it.’ She pointed out. ‘Who is saying what?’

‘“Early Man is an utterly silly feature from Nick Park and Aardman Animations that manages to be fresh and delightful.” That is the New York Times.’ Tom read. ‘“A welcome return to a form of stop-motion that takes pride in the technique's inevitable imperfections (such as thumbprints in the modelling clay), while putting extra care into the underlying script.” That is Variety.’ He added. ‘Then there is the Telegraph “Watch Early Man, the new film from Aardman Animations, and you’ll understand. Mere words can’t do the sequence justice”.’ He finished.

‘Brilliant.’ Danielle smiled. ‘And the negative?’

‘Only that it is a safe script, predictable, the usual sorts of things.’

‘So no really bad reviews?’

‘No, it seems to be something of a three to four-star rating all around.’

‘Woohoo, go you and your ridiculous accent, which, I have to say, I am still laughing at.’ Danielle giggled.

Tom chuckled as he rose to his feet and walked over to her. ‘It was incredibly fun.’

‘What had you looking at reviews anyway?’

He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Luke sent me a message, saying congratulations on the movie being reviewed well by the papers, so he sent me a few links and also...is the Irish Independent any good?’

‘It’s gotten a bit trashy over the past few years, more about gossip and tabloid stuff than I can remember, why?’ Danielle asked, not sure why he would ask about that paper.

‘You’re front page on it.’

‘What?’ Danielle’s voice went up two octaves as she spoke.

‘Well, it would be more accurate to say we are but you are their focus.’

‘Why?’

‘They decided that you were worth talking about.’

‘What sort of slow week is Ireland having if I am news, much less front page. What are they even saying?’

‘Well, the picture is us at the premiere and the caption is…’ He got the picture up on the screen which Danielle immediately inspected. It was to the right-hand side of the page, taking up a notable size of it in Danielle’s opinion. “Connemara born Danielle Hughes premieres alongside British actor boyfriend Tom Hiddleston at Early man premiere, see page six.” written underneath. ‘We are also in the Daily Mail but only page eight, and you are the focus of a lot of that too.’

‘This feels weird.’ Danielle commented. ‘What did they say?’

‘Well, I am not sure of the Daily Mail, I think Luke got about four lines in and had to get stronger coffee, you know how hard it is to even attempt to read something in that. And the Irish Independent is really focusing on your success and how I am just one of the things you achieved in recent times, your rise through Safeguard and your sterling career as a paramedic, your success in triathlon, it’s all they wrote about really.’ He seemed proud of her for that. ‘It also commented on your fashion, your practicality, they are really pushing you as a role model for women.’

‘That is just odd.’ Danielle was unsure how to feel about it all. ‘It can’t all be good.’

‘Well, there are some references to the album and “The Heeler” but nothing is being taken as a negative about you, if anything, they seem to maintain that you are more formidable than others as you are from a small family vet practise on the West Coast of Ireland and not the daughter of some wealthy finance...what did her father do again, something that made money.’ Tom dismissed.

‘I wasn’t exactly poor and I am not exactly rich now.’ Danielle pointed out.

‘But you are a success, a businesswoman, a formidable mind. I am being noted as needing a strong female in my life from it and I may be inclined to agree.’ Tom smiled. Seeing her uncertainty, he pulled her to him. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’ She dismissed. ‘I mean, for one thing, I am not near Bernadette today, she would be an utter dose, so that’s not a bad thing.’

Tom could not stop himself from laughing as he thought of Danielle’s insufferable aunt.

#i hate you i love you #chapter 138 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

11 notes · View notes

sariahsue · 5 years

Text

The Open Line - Chapter Nine, Claws and Bugs

Ladybug knows that if it weren’t for Adrien, she would have fallen for Cat Noir, hard and fast. And when Oblivio takes her memory, she does just that. Able to keep her memory after the Oblivio incident but still unaware of Cat Noir’s real identity, Ladybug must deal with her growing feelings for her partner, who is desperately trying to win her over. (Rated PG.)

Read Chapter One Here Reach Chapter Eight Here

***

Adrien was normally quick to hop out of bed in the morning, eager for school and to see his friends, but today he laid in bed for nearly twenty minutes, staring at the picture Ladybug had sent him. (He'd printed it and kept it under his pillow all night. Plagg had made fun of him.) Adrien was determined to have it memorized by the time he left for school.

Ladybug had made sure to hide personal details and belongings from view. There were no hints to her identity, but she hadn't been able to hide the pink wall she'd taped the picture to. Pink. Her room was painted pink. Was that her favorite color? Should he get her pink flowers? She also hadn't hidden her pink bedspread. Her bed! Not only had she hung up his picture, but she'd put it next to her BED. Was it the first thing she saw that morning? Had she been staring at it as she'd fallen asleep last night?

A loud knock on the door gave him a half-second warning to hide the picture under his blanket before Nathalie came marching in. She didn't even look at him before she began listing off his schedule for the day, which was packed. "Your father expects you downstairs promptly. You both will be very busy today, and he doesn't want any delays."

"Yes, Nathalie. I'll be right down." As soon as she left the room, he lunged for the photo. Breakfast could wait, so he sank into his pillows and forgot about Nathalie and her schedules, holding the photo high above his head this time, to get a new angle.

There was light shining directly onto Ladybug's bedroom wall, though he couldn't see its source. That probably meant she had a lamp close by. Did she read before falling asleep? What was her favorite book?

The best part of her message last night was definitely the caption she'd added. "Got to have a picture of my favorite partner on display!" It was silly. It shouldn't make him so happy. He was her only partner, but he had never been called anyone's favorite anything before. He repeated her words to himself as he finally got ready for the day.

He skipped down the stairs, ten minutes late for breakfast, only to be greeted by a scowl.

"Did Nathalie tell you I expected your punctuality?" his father asked. Even from Gabriel's spot at the far end of the table, Adrien could feel the open disappointment, almost anger. But Ladybug's words kept him insulated and safe.

"Yes," Adrien said. "But I didn't know-"

"And you chose to disrespect her direction and my time because?"

"Uh..." Because Ladybug said he was her favorite! She didn't push him away when he kissed her! "I guess I was... tired?"

"I see," Gabriel said, picking up his plate has he rose from the table. "I had hoped to spend some time with my son, but as he places such a low value on me, I will be finishing my meal in my office." Gabriel swept past him and was gone.

"If he'd told me he was going to be here..."

"His loss," Plagg said from his pocket. "Hey, we could always go back to bed. I think there's a certain wheel of cheese calling my name and a certain picture calling yours."

"Nice try." Adrien grabbed his plate and walked toward the front door. It was odd, how bad he didn't feel about his father's behavior. It was unfortunate, but it couldn't damage his good mood. He was Ladybug's favorite! She'd let him kiss her hand like six times last night!

Remembering that got him through a grueling day. Nathalie hadn't been exaggerating when she said he'd be busy. School was full of tests and Chloe's drama, all made harder by his sleep deprivation. Double fencing left him exhausted. Then there was a photoshoot. And finally, piano lessons, where he was berated for his "obvious lack of practice and respect for the piano as an instrument and an art form."

"I'd like to see him work in practicing around all the akumas I have to fight."

"Or all the daydreaming about Ladybug," Plagg added. It was amazing how much of Adrien's pillow he was taking up. Plagg was spread out, basking in a square of sunshine. One eye was cracked open, so he could see what kind of effect his teasing had.

"I'm not that bad."

"You sure?"

"Scoot over." Adrien flopped face-first onto his bed, already reaching for the photo. It was a relief to have his room to himself again. He was nearing his physical limits, and he had past his people limit a long time ago. Well, people that weren't Ladybug. He wished there was a patrol scheduled tonight. Having pictures of her was nice, but nothing could compare to the comfort of her presence.

The door swung open, and Plagg dove out of sight while Adrien scrambled to his feet to face his visitor. Seeing Gabriel twice on the same day was a rare occurrence, and normally Adrien would have been glad for the attention, but his father's face was even more sour than it had been that morning.

"The photographer sent me the raw images of today's shoot, Adrien. Your work was subpar."

Adrien's mouth twitched. He did not have the energy for this. "It's just the raws," Adrien said. "They're going to Photoshop it anyway."

"You can't airbrush failure. Your performance was unacceptable."

"Maybe it shouldn't have been scheduled after two hours of fencing, then. I was tired." His words hung in the air between them, but Adrien wouldn't have taken them back even if he could have. He was too tired. Too tired of being pushed around today, too tired of being everyone's disappointment.

"You will not be practicing with your band on Saturday."

"But they're counting on me to be there! I've missed the last four-"

Gabriel steamrolled over him. "You will be spending your newly freed time to practice your piano. I met your teacher on his way out, and he tells me your skill is quickly deteriorating."

Adrien folded his arms and looked away.

"I can see this is getting too much for you," Gabriel said softly.

Adrien dared to hope that his father was finally understanding him, that he would be removing some of his burdensome lessons or shoots, but he should have known better. It made Gabriel's next words cut deeper.

"If your performance – and your attitude – do not improve, we will be returning to homeschooling."

Even as he left the room, it felt like Gabriel's claws closed in around Adrien. No band on Saturday. That was expected. It seemed like his father would use any excuse to keep him from going. But no school? The last time he'd threatened that had been ages ago. And if he were being monitored by a tutor at home all day, it would be so much harder to slip away if an akuma attacked. No band, no school, no Cat Noir.

Adrien threw himself on the piano bench in frustration and started playing. Let his father hear him practice. Let him think that his son was cooperative and submissive.

"Ah, don't worry," Plagg said, floating over. He'd retrieved Ladybug's picture from underneath the pillow, and it dangled between his paws. "He'll forget about everything in a few days. Just watch." He set the photo on top of Adrien's music.

"Just let me play," Adrien said, shifting the picture aside to see the music. "I want him to think he's won." Plagg was trying to be helpful, and he appreciated the gesture, but he needed to see the real thing. A photo wasn't enough anymore.

"Why?"

"So he won't check on me again." Don't think. Just play. Then see Ladybug.

Don't feel.

This plan only lasted fifteen minutes until Adrien couldn't stand to be in his own house any longer. It would have to be enough. He was jumping through the window before he'd even finished transforming, into the first truly cold night of October. The city was misty and dreary, which didn't match his mood. He wanted a thunderstorm.

Sixteen blocks away from his house, he finally stopped to contact Ladybug. It rang, and rang and rang, until it went to her inbox. Even though he knew there was no point, that she wasn't transformed, he tried again. And again. The weather turned menacing.

When he finally gave up - without leaving a message - he wasn't sure what to do next. There was nowhere he could really go. There was no one who really wanted him around. So he wandered, buffeted by the wind and getting soaked to the bone, trying not to remind himself that because he was Ladybug's only partner, he was also her least favorite.

"She never said that," he told himself firmly. "That wasn't what she meant." Alone and abandoned in the rain, it was hard to believe he'd had a reason to be happy that morning.

Water and wind eventually drove him to find shelter. The Notre Dame was big enough to hide him, tall enough that he wouldn't be able to hear the people and cars below him. The enormous roof was made out of wood and had many eaves and ledges he where he could sit and be alone, but when he sat down, he found that the spot was already taken.

"Figures," he said. A swarm of ladybugs huddled there for warmth. "You're not the one I want right now." He settled down anyway and stayed there, unmoving, for he didn't know how long. Long enough that tourists returned to their hotels and street lights flickered on. Long enough for the bugs to realize he was a much better heat source than the wooden rafters and start to crawl over him instead. His only friends.

"It's a sign," he said, looking down at himself. "Soon she'll want me just as much as you all do."

"Who are you talking to?"

"Ladybug!" She'd come! And just like that, his heart hurt a little less. "Would you like to meet my friends?" He motioned to the little insects crawling over his knees.

Droplets of water hit his legs as she wrung out her hair. "They can't get enough of you," she noted, sitting down next to him. The ledge was wide and sheltered from the wind, just big enough for the both of them.

"So you were jealous and came to get a piece of the action?"

"Ha. Funny. I checked the Ladyblog a few minutes ago and saw reports that you've been up here for hours, sulking."

"Oh, uh..." Should he tell her? Should he try to cover it up? Play it off? He didn't want her to think he couldn't handle something as stupid as a bad day. She would be disappointed in him too, just like everyone else, and he would do anything to avoid that.

But Ladybug saw through his hesitation. "Your dad again?"

Cat Noir sighed and then nodded. "Today's been kind of awful." It was a relief to tell the truth. And an even bigger relief that he didn't have to say it himself.

"I'm sorry," she said, leaning against him, lending him her support with her presence.

They didn't talk much. Ladybug brushed bugs off his shoulders and hands, and stroked his hair whenever she thought he needed a distraction from the gloom that waited for him beyond their island of tranquility.

"I wish I'd gotten here sooner," she said over an hour later. "We're partners. I hate the idea of you facing tough stuff by yourself, even if it's not an akuma."

"You could always give me your number, Bugaboo," he joked. "I tried calling your yoyo earlier, but you weren't transformed."

He expected an eye roll and a lecture on keeping civilian and super lives separate, so he wasn't quite sure what to make of it when she looped her arm through his and hummed thoughtfully. Was she actually considering it? He'd said it as a joke!

But she lapsed back into silence without really answering, and the hope her reaction had ignited was quickly extinguished in the gloom that engulfed the rest of the city. Of course she wasn't going to give him her number. She was more willing to spend time with him, more generous with her touches because she knew he was upset, but that was it. There was no indication that it would ever be more than that, and he shouldn't get his hopes up.

They spent another half hour in silence, until Ladybug got up with a grimace. "We can't stay out late two nights in a row."

"Yeah, I should get back. Before someone misses me." Miss him? Ha. Like that would happen.

"I have an idea," she said, holding a hand out to help him up. "And I think you'll really like it."

"What's that?" Once on his feet, Cat Noir didn't let her hand go. Neither, he noticed, did she.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, if I can figure out the details."

"We don't have patrol tomorrow, though."

"Oh, well, we could- that is..."

She paused and looked shyly away, and Cat Noir felt his feeble hope burn back to life. This was something new. Scheduling to meet up outside of patrols? It was unprecedented. It couldn't be...

"Would you meet me anyway?"

"Of course, LB. I would love to."

"Ten at the Tower?"

"Sure."

It was happening. It was honestly, truly happening. They were planning to meet, not because the city needed them, or because he was having a bad day, or on accident. Just because she wanted to spend time with him.

Ladybug beamed, then pushed herself up on her toes and kissed his cheek before saying in a rush, "Hope you feel better. See you tomorrow. Bye!"

As soon as she was out of sight, Cat Noir did a little dance on the ledge. But the ledge wasn't big enough, and on his second pirouette, he lost his balance and fell off. Laughing, he waited until the very last second to save himself, but even that rush couldn't compare to the high his Lady had just given him.

Read Chapter Ten Here

***

Author's note: This story is officially a "Notre Dame Cathedral Didn't Burn Down" AU. I'm a writer. I can make reality whatever I want, and I want that building to not have burned.

I had a lot of obstacles to getting this chapter done for tonight, and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to. I had to push myself to get this done in time, but I'm happy that I did! Next week, back to Marinette. Let's see what SHE makes out of her own behavior!

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ladynoir july

135 notes · View notes

jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 5 years

Text

NEW INSTAGRAM POST FROM JOE MAZZELLO - Oneshot

Warnings: None, mostly fluff

A/N This is my first oneshot. I have no clue of the word count and honestly I don’t care. Lots of fluff and some eluding to sex. Forgive the grammatical errors, I typed this up on my phone and decided WTH, lets post it!

Fans and followers would get the notification and flock to see, what did he just post?

They would soon find he had posted a series of photos, all dedicated to you, his wife, and your family.

Reading the caption you started to tear up.

“So many have made comments about my family, and more specifically, my wife. I’m here to give you a small glimpse at our life together and just a few of the many reasons I love her and our family.”

The first image was in black and white, it was a picture of you, curled up on the couch. You hair was down and looked to be air drying by the state of your natural curls. You had a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. You didn’t recall him even taking this, it could have been any evening really.

His caption continued.

“The first picture, this is the calming presents she has, but probably doesn’t realize. I love sitting with her in these quite times after the kids are in bed, and she has a moment to relax and just be her, not mom, not a radiology tech, just Y/N. Being with her in this calm time, calms me. Probably more than she knows.”

You smiled and wiped a tear from your cheek, while swiping left to the second photo. Again, it was in black and white, but this time you were on the couch with you and Joe’s 3 year old son curled up on one side of you and your 8 year old daughter on the other. All of you sound asleep. Your arms were around them and they were actually holding hands. You choked up, more tears came.

The caption continued

“The second photo, this is pure love. The love a mother has for her children, and the love they have for their mother. The love of my life with our children. Yes, I said our, I love my stepdaughter as my own, these are our kids. This is our family. This is ours love.”

You stared at the photo moment longer before swiping left again. You’re heart squeezed and you were so grateful he captured this moment. Your children were growing up too fast, but in this image, time stood still. And he did love your daughter, he never treated her any different, you loved the way he welcomed and supported her. It’s what made you want to have more children with him. He was an amazing dad.

The third was actually a short video. You and the kids were setting the table while singing and dancing to A-ha’s ‘take on me’ (one of your favorite songs). You remembered this, although most nights were like this. You tried to help the kids get some wiggles and giggles out before dinner.

You went to read this caption for the description of this video.

“The third, a video, is our chaos. Of which she is the manager. She calls this time ‘wiggles and giggles’, I like to call it scheduled chaos. It starts as dinner is cooling, a song is picked (this time one of Y/N favorites) and we all sing and dance to it while setting the table. It seems ridiculous, but it works. Dinner is still loud and full of laughter, but what Mazzello family dinner isn’t?”

You felt a bit embarrassed by the video, but you also loved that Joe loves the chaos. But why wouldn’t he? He was just as silly as the kids.

Swiping left, there was another black and white photo of you while at kickboxing. You must have just finished because you stood unwrapping your hands, covered in sweat but smiling. He must have taken this one of the times he went with you. You’d never seen it.

You continued reading the post,

“This fourth picture is only one accept of her strength. She is one of the strongest people I know. She fights for what she believes, and for those she loves. I admire her strength and her ability to take whatever life throws at her. And she does it all with grace.”

You shook your head, you never felt like you handled anything with grace, you always felt a breath away from crumbling, but that’s not what he saw. Maybe you needed to feel about yourself the way he does. Strong.

You swiped again, to find a picture of you in your scrubs, tea in head, purse on your shoulder, kissing your kids goodbye.

Reading the caption further

“This is her ambition. She became a radiology tech while working, and was a single mother. She had a goal and she accomplished it. I’ve never known someone to set so many goals and reach them all!”

You felt your heart swell. He thought you were ambitious! You never knew he felt that. You were actually discovering more about your relationship, and yourself, through this post. You felt his admiration and it only made you fall more deeply for him.

Scrolling back up to continue swiping, the next photo was of you in your photography studio/office. You were in workout gear, your hair in a messy knot on top of your head, setting up a backdrop and props, and had step back to look at the set up.

Quickly scrolling back down, you had to know what he had to say about this hot mess look.

“Fifth picture is about her creativity, and this could go hand in hand with her ambition as well. Did you know she’s a photographer? Well she is. And she always tells me about the ideas she has for sets and props, but I never fully grasp what she’s describing. And I like it that way, because when she gets to work, I get to see what beautiful backgrounds she’s dreamed up. I get to literally watch her brain and creativity work. It’s amazing.”

He’d told you before how he loves watching you create sets. He said it gave him a deeper look into your mind.

Swiftly scrolling back up to swipe to the next image. You found a picture of your wedding day. Your and Joes’ first kiss to be exact. You sighed and smiled warmly, remembering your wedding. Everything was prefect and went so smoothly, so much so you worried when the shoe would drop, but after that kiss, you knew it wouldn’t.

Back to the almost book like description, you couldn’t help but blush at the first words.

“And last but not least, her passion. She is more passionate than anyone I’ve ever known. She’s passionate about life, her family, her career, her creativity and her love. This passion burns so deep, and so fiercely. I love being able to witness and experience this passion. And it’s catching!

So before you call someone cold, shy, reluctant, just know that people have so many facets. You don’t always experience them all.”

You set the phone in your lap as you close your eyes, sighing happily. Tears still spilling over.

Joe really did get you. And he just shared with the world how much he got you, and how much he loved every aspect of you.

Picking up your phone again to check the time, you noticed over a thousand comments. Some of which were from friends. The first was from Lucy.

Lucy - “This is beautiful! Love you both!”

The next was from Gwil, who always had to jest.

Gwil - “I’m hurt, you’ve never professed your love to me like this!”

Ben replied to Gwil.

Ben - “That’s because we never had him this whipped!”

Laughing you scrolled through more comments and noticed both Brian and Roger commented as well.

In true Roger fashion he jokingly asked “what did you do now? This seems like a suck up post!”

Brian, who is always so sincere replied “Love each other like this always!”

You liked your friends comments and a few others while skimming them.

Checking the time again you knew it would be late before Joe was home. Working on a new movie meant long hours away, but luckily he was so close he came home every night.

————

The house was quiet, the kids were sound asleep and you sat waiting for Joe to come home.

You had reread the post multiple times that day, so much so your face hurt from all the smiling.

Joe had replied to a few comments throughout the day, responding in jest, with his signature humor, or thanking them for their kind words.

Finally, you heard Joe come home. You made your way to the door as he stepped in.

His face lit up as he saw you. And the smile you loved so much spread across his lips.

“Hey you” he said softly as you stepped towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His arms slowly pulled you in closer while wrapping around your waist.

Slowly you closed the distance between your lips and kissed him, letting the kiss grow deeper until he moaned against you.

Pulling back just enough to look him in eyes you whispered “I love you”.

Leaning his forehead on yours he replied “I love you more. I noticed you saw my post.”

“Yes. You don’t know what it means to me. The way you love our family, the way you love me, I got to see it all from your prospective. I saw myself through your eyes.”

You began to tear up as he kissed your lips gently and squeezing you tightly.

“I wanted the world to know.” He said against your lips.

You felt your body warm as you kissed him again. Slow and building, as his hands began to roam up and down your back and lower, while you tangled a hand in his auburn hair.

You carried on this way for a few moments until you both pulled back, breathing heavy. The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Slowly you moved out of his arms, only to take his hand and lead him into the bedroom.

@ixchel-9275 @painkiller80 @painandpleasure86 @heybuddy-drabbles @queensdivas @liliah39 @yourlocalmusicalprostitute

#joe mazzello x reader #soft joe mazzello #oneshot #joe mazzello

77 notes · View notes