#and of course the ideas/moments that inspired me to do this whole thing were the most technically complicated to do lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s0dium · 9 days

Text

Douchebag

A/n: This is honestly the BEST fic I've ever written! I took a lot from prompts I found on this site and the smut scene is inspired from a book called "The Kiss Quotient." (It was just so damn good). This fanfic is also inspired by my original fanfic, "Douchebag" Tengen x Reader. ALSO, I AM WORKING ON YUTA FICS, SO DON'T WORRY! Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: Gojo Satrou was a man of many things. It would be hard to find anyone in the jujutsu world who hadn’t heard of his name before, whether that be through his many wins in battle or his reputation as an A-class player. Some describe him as eccentric, and others (mostly girls) describe him as irresistible. You? Well, you on the other hand would describe him as nothing else than an utter, complete, douchebag. Warnings: Enemies to lovers, teasing, fingering, intense kissing for a sec, squirting, use of pet names, belly bulge, cervix fucking, breeding kink, virgin!reader, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, choking ~

You scoffed, watching through the classroom window as a clearly frustrated old man stormed out of the building, no doubt a higher up. No doubt the work of Gojo Satoru. "God I hate him." You hissed, turning to face a dozing-off Shoko and your other friend Haibara. The classroom you sat in was almost empty, bathed in the soft light of midday filtering through large windows. Sparse shadows stretch across the well-worn wooden floor. Rows of desks, mostly unoccupied, face a dusty chalkboard at the front. "Who Satoru?" Shoko yawned, leaning into the palm of her hand to face you. Haibara lets out a loud chuckle. "Why? Because he's an ass to higher-ups?" He nods to the window and you click your tongue against the rough of your mouth. "No, it's because he is an ass in general. His whole 'holier than thou' attitude, and don't get me started on the way he treats girls." You practically shiver as you remember the time you saw some poor girl from Kyoto Jujutsu High profess her love to the white hair man, only to run away sobbing. "I swear to god it's like he expects us to kiss the floor that he walks on, he's.... infuriating" "Who's infuriating?" Oh god, you knew that stupidly deep voice anywhere. You whipped around to find yourself face to face with the very tall white-haired man you were talking about; a shit-eating grin spread across his infuriatingly handsome face.

“You couldn't be talking about me, could you?” Satoru's voice dripped faux shock and you rolled your eyes.

“Well you know what they say, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” You spat.

“That must be why you love using that pretty mouth of yours to talk about me so much.” Satoru lowered himself to close the provoking height difference between the two of you until your noses were inches away from touching. “Cause ya love having me around doncha.”

In that moment you have to conjure up every ounce of self-restraint to not spit in his face there and then, and luckily your friends catch the drift. "Hey Satoru! What are you doing here?" Perked up Haibara who reached out his hand to dap Gojo up. "Well, Suguru and I are heading for a night out today, small club, and I thought, out of the kindness of my heart," You scoff and Gojo merely grins and continues, "I'd invite you all. Drink on me of course." As Satrou's invitation lingered in the air, you noticed Shoko's ears perk up. Her curiosity was piqued, a subtle lift of her eyebrows betraying her interest. You bit your tongue, the taste of reluctance sharp against your teeth. The idea of going anywhere with Satrou was far from appealing, but knowing your friends might join made it harder to outright refuse.

You crossed your arms defensively, leaning back slightly as you fixed Satrou with a skeptical look. "And why would you want me there?"

Satrou's lips curled into a half-smirk, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint."You're annoying, I'll give you that," He took a casual step closer, and leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "but I never said you weren't fun."

His words, intended to irk you, did their job well. You glared at him sharply, the frustration evident in your furrowed brows and the hard set of your jaw.

Satrou chuckled.

“Great, I’ll take that as a yes then, I'll text you guys the details.” He turns around to walk out of the classroom. “See you guys there!”

There was a silence as you all watched Satrou walk away before Haibara turns to look at you. “So are you going to go y/n? Come on it will be so much fun!”

“Yeah no way in hell.”

~ You were a liar. You were a liar because here you were, leaning over the counter of a bar in a club that was far from "small." The nightclub was a pulsing, chaotic hive of activity. Neon lights flashed in syncopation with the deafening throb of electronic dance music that shook the very air. The club was jam-packed with bodies moving rhythmically, the heat from the mass of humanity palpable as the scent of sweat and sweet perfumes mingled. The bar surface was sticky under your arms, and the occasional spill from a too-hastily poured drink added to the chaos of sounds and smells around you. You lazily stirred the thin red straw into your drink, trying to politely ignore the creep who wouldn't stop talking to you.

Somehow, in the maze of gyrating bodies and blinding strobe lights, you had lost both Shoko and Haibara, leaving you stranded at the mercy of this clueless conversationalist. Despite the roar of bass and the chatter of dozens of conversations, his words seemed to bore into your ears, relentless and unyielding. He leaned in closer than necessary, trying to make himself heard over the club's cacophony, not realizing or perhaps not caring, that you were more interested in plotting an escape than in anything he had to say. "And might I say you look gorgeous tonight." It took everything you had not to scoff at this creep's words, but before you should shut the man down, you felt an arm wrap around you. "Everything alright love?" Oh god. You knew that voice anywhere. As you turned, you were met by Satrou's piercing blue eyes, their color vivid even behind stylish rectangular sunglasses. The multicolor flashing lights overhead caught in the threads of Satrou’s light blue button-up, making it shimmer subtly, and the fabric clung just right to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, hinting at the well-defined physique beneath. You hated the fact that your brain immediately noted how damn good he looked. His arm was wrapped around your waist drawing you close and you had to bite your tongue from frowning at the pet name he had given you As he leaned in, his voice was low, a soft murmur over the noise of the club, "This guy bothering you baby?" His tone was teasing, and you could detect the challenge in it, as if daring you to admit that his closeness and pet names affected you just as much as he knew it did. "Of course I'm fine baby!" You smile brightly and for a second you think Satrou looked a bit taken aback. If playing along got you out of this situation so be it. "This guy, I'm sorry, what's your name?" You glance back at the creep who had turned bright red. "I'm sorry, excuse me." You watched as the man disappeared into the throng of the bustling crowd, your attention fixed until he was well out of sight. Only then did you turn back to Satrou, the false warmth on your face instantly transforming into a cold, hard glare.

"Thanks for that, but you can get your hand off me now," you said, your voice icy as you tried to wriggle out of his hold. Despite your efforts, Satrou’s grip on your waist remained firm, unyielding.

"And why should I? I think we made a fantastic couple," Satrou cooed, a teasing lilt in his voice. His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying the moment far more than you.

You rolled your eyes, exasperation seeping through. "You really think I would fall for something like that?"

"Why? Did you?" he probed further, his smile widening, eyes searching yours for any sign of genuine affect. Anger started to boil up inside you as your attempts to escape his grasp remained futile.

"I don't think you understand the dynamic here very well, Satoru," you began, your voice low and deliberate, each word punctuated for emphasis. You stepped closer, invading his space as much as he had invaded yours, your eyes never leaving his. "Let me make this crystal clear, I'm not someone you can just fucking conquer, and I'm certainly not one of those girls who's gonna kiss the ground you walk on with your whole 'I'm the strongest' act," you seethed.

Your face was mere inches from his now, your breath mingling, the tension palpable. "Because I know what you really are, Satrou," you hissed, the anger in your voice barely contained. "You're a fucking douche bag." "Oh? Is that so."

Satrou's expression shifted subtly, the amusement fading into something more measured, more cautious. He studied you for a moment and you took the chance to wiggle out of his grasp and make your way through the crowd on the dance floor toward the door. The beat of the music pounds in your ears and throughout your body making your synapses jump like beans in a tin can. You can barely see the floor, only flashes of bodies you frantically tried to push past. Before you can make it to the back door, a hand grips your wrist tightly enough to halt your forward rush. Above the din of the pulsating music and amidst the strobe-lit shadows of dancing figures, Satoru's face comes into view. You feel your breath catch in your throat. God his is beautiful. Strobe lights catch and accent every one of his sharp features alighting them in a multicolor color hue. He pulls your wrist to him so you're close, too close. You can smell the old spice shampoo from his hair mixed in with some sort of sweet cologne. It's a smell that makes you want to bury your nose into him over and over again. "Jesus fucking Christ y/n" he breathed his eyes searching yours. "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?" You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so

“I-fuck you” the words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and his eyes are soft. Fuck it. You can no longer hear the lyrics to whatever song was playing, only a soft dull hum of the beat in your ears. Immediately your lips are on his. The kiss is frantic, hot, messy. The club's pulse thrummed through you like a second heartbeat, the noise and chaos all but forgotten in the singular focus of his presence. You could feel one of his large hands on the small of your back, drawing you in until there was no space left between the both of you. Your mouths clashed against each other as if you were both seeking something vital, something long-denied. Satoru's lips were insistent against yours, moving with a fervor that matched the pounding bass surrounding you. You whined as his tongue slipped into your mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the firm press of his chest against yours. The scent of his cologne mixed with the smoky air around us, intoxicating and heady.

Your mouths separated with a soft pop, and Satoru is grinning while you're left dazed, breath heavy and chests rising and falling after it. "How bout you say we get out of here Princess."Gojo's voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against your ear as you broke from the intense kiss.

Before you could even respond, a dizzying rush enveloped you. The loud club vanished in an instant, replaced by the quiet, dimly lit ambiance of his bedroom. You were suddenly on his bed, the soft duvet beneath you a stark contrast to the hard dance floor we'd just left. Right, he can teleport. You forgot about that. Wait was he... where are you going to... Before you can get a word in, he’s once again engulfing your lips with his and pulling you into a feverish kiss in which the two of you can’t seem to get enough of each other. The moment one pulls away to breathe, the other is immediately searching for their lips again; intertwining tongues and teeth clashing together recklessly.

Your hot, everything is hot, your body is burning up by the second and there’s a sickly sweet feeling in your stomach that keeps on expanding as time passes. You whine into his mouth when you feel a hand slip under your skirt and lightly trace the outline of your slit with his index finger. You're painfully wet; your arousal has made a large spot on your underwear translucent. “Just touch me,’ you whined, arching impatiently against his hand. He couldn’t make either of you wait any longer. Slowly, he brought his middle finger down and slid it gently over her folds. You threw your head back. "Ahhhh, more please." He did it again, this time his fingertip slipping between and gathering your wetness. He parted you with two fingers. You let out a gasp when he hit your clit and started to rub it in small circles. You tried to say something, anything to explain how hot you were feeling right now, but your words were lost against his soft lips. The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him so close against you, skin to skin. Time and space had no meaning anymore. There was only you and Satrou.

“You feeling good baby? Satrou speaks slowly, breath on your neck and voice in your ear making you shiver. You bite your lip and nod like any words that came from you would ruin it. You almost wince when you feel two fingers slip into your tight hole. "Jesus, fuck. You gotta relax princesses." He chuckled, knowing far to well that the tightness was going to feel delicious around him. Two fingers worked into you, and your eyes rolled back into your head. He began a steady rhythm as his tongue nipped and sucked the tender skin of your neck. You couldn’t prevent her hips from rising to meet his thrusts. Oh God, you were riding his hand. That had to be bad. You told herself to stop. You couldn’t. Somehow, you found your hands tangled in his short white hair. Your body was coiled tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now you could hear the slippery sounds every time he drove back into you. "Hnghhh.... so good." You squeezed your eyes type, becoming focused on the tightening feeling of your core and the blossoming warm pleasure. Your legs started to tremble under the unbearable pleasure and your back arched against the bed as if your body was trying to escape the euphoric feeling that coursed through your skin. "That’s it, fuck, beautiful girl... such a natural submissive...." You want to tell him he's wrong, all this pleasure wasn't because of his egotistic ass, but it'd be a lie. And as if on command, all feelings come to a heightened crescendo; explosions of euphoria clouding your brain causing your toes to curl from pleasure and your body to shake like a leaf.

It takes a couple seconds after you calmed down to realize you squirted all over Satoru's hand and all blood rushes to your face turning you a bright red.

“Oh my god in so sorry I didn’t-”

Your voice dies out as you watch Satrou pull off his shirt, revealing his extremely built body and toned muscles, to wipe the liquid off his hand. You don’t even notice that he had pulled out his dick until you feel something pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so. Your stomach inwardly twisted, filled with the sickly excitement and your breathing started to quicken. "Shhhhh baby," Satoru cups your cheek and kisses your forehead. It was a sweet gesture despite everything happening right now, a gesture that made your heart swell and your mind yearn for Satoru. The stretch of his dick spreading your walls is insane. No amount of preparation could've prepared you for the length of Satoru's dick. You feel it heavy inside you and Satrou pushes into you until he can't push anymore, until his hips are flush against you and the tip of his length is smushed against your cervix. The pleasure of that alone felt numb, unbearable, you needed friction, you needed him to move. You practically faint when he first thrusts into you in earnest. It's euphoric; the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up. His cock pulsed inside of your silky walls, stretching you to the fullest capacity as he bottomed out again and again. "Oh fuck." Satrou groaned. He was no longer grinning, Satoru's playful resolves vanished and his smile quickly dropped. He knew you'd feel good, but he didn't expect how good you'd feel. The feeling of his hand he had fucked himself to the thought of you for so many nights was nothing compared to the real thing. It was too much, the feeling of your wet soft walls gripping him so tightly. How was he able to live without your pussy in the first place? The pleasure built rapidly, too potent, too insistent. He kneeled over you, a groan escaping his lips—a raw, primal sound that vibrated through the charged air between you. Satorus thrust your quick and hard, a clear display of strength and endurance he had gained from years of jujutsu training. "Been thinking about this, so long, bet you have to have ya~"

As Satrou's long, deliberate fingers encircle your neck, a thrilling chill races down your spine. He applies pressure gently at first, then with a firmer, insistent grip that gradually restricts your airflow, sending a wave of exhilaration through your senses. The world around you narrows, focusing intently on the point where his skin contacts yours, heightening every other sensation that courses through you. His other hand slips under your bra bra to grab and massage your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipples.

"Satoru..! Ahhhh..! I..I, fuckkkkk can't handle this.." You had no strength to answer him, only offering wanton moans in retort as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with his hand squeezing your throat it was just all too much.

Satoru. Satoru. Satoru

"Slow down.. please im gonna ahhhh~" Drool slipped passed your lips and you writhed and squirmed at the feeling of hot euphoria passed over your body in flesh arrow. "Gonna cum? Fuck baby, let's... let's come together m'kay?" Satrou almost stuttered. His body had kicked into autopilot, and a deep primal need for you settled in as he thrust in and out, creating a methodical rhythm that echoed in your ears. Your ankles lock around his lower back and you cry out when the head of his cock kisses your womb, your legs shaking as you feel yourself start to be thrown into an intense orgasm. You want to say something about the weird feeling in your stomach, how your skin is buzzing but it's all too much, and before you know it your tumbling toward the edge. It feels like your whole body was shot with electricity and color dances in your eyes as you float in ecstasy.

"Sh-Shit, shit, fuuuuck~" He chuckles into your ear, choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny. Satoru doesn't pull out as you both come down from your high, instead watching you intently as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Wanna do this again?" He chuckles.

"Fuck, yes, please."

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojou satoru x reader

1K notes · View notes

landhinlove · 2 years

Text

The Don’t Worry Darling Premiere: A Summary

At the Venice Film Festival

FLORENCE BEING SO SASSY

Interviewer: “Your role is so inspiring”

Florence: “why is it inspiring?… I think it’s inspiring for a woman to say ‘no’ on and off camera”

They said she couldn’t make it to the press conference due to scheduling issues but she showed up 10 minutes after it started. The lead actress didn’t want to go to the press conference.

also these posts and the captions (Rebecca Corbin Murray is Florence’s stylist)

HARRY TAKING NOTHING SERIOUSLY

literally giggling at fans during the panel when Olivia was asked about the Shia and Florence controversy

this man did not answer a single question and he knows it (louis was spot on when he said “you do talk some shit in interviews” lmao)

Harry during the panel:

“Was that an answer? It was words.”

“what I like about acting is that I have no idea about what I’m doing”

“my favourite thing about the movie is that it feels like a movie”

During the interview with him and Chris Pine he went directly against what Olivia has said about the movie saying that it’s more misogynistic than feminist

NO ONE EXCEPT OLIVIA LOOKS LIKE THEY WANT TO BE THERE

Chris Pine is taking one for the team and being a neutral party (but still looking like he wants to leave). He was not asked many questions at all. Also he was the one to sit next to Olivia for everything

Gemma Chan was barely asked a question in the press conference and when she was she was reprimanded for being too quiet.

Harry doesn’t care at all about the panel, just talking and giggling with Gemma and the fans. He was asked the most questions of the actors and the only ones he gave a real answer for were about his fans and music

Obviously Florence doesn’t want to be there and wasn’t in the panel, but she’s also getting pushed to the side even though she’s literally the lead

REPORTERS WERE STOPPED FROM ASKING ABOUT THE SHIA AND FLORENCE THING

FLORENCE AND HARRY SLAYING WITH THE FITS

Harry giving Elton John energy with the glasses and just over all outfits. Or fruity Tony Stark.

Harry wearing a blue bandana during the press conference ;) (it’s technically a scarf but close enough)

Florence showing up in an adorable three piece purple shorts and blazer set (link)

Then she stole the show in the sparkly gown giving Marylin Monroe with the hair and diamonds

Also Gemma Chan is just one of the most gorgeous people to ever live and she slayed too of course because how could she not

Chris Pine and Nick Kroll hyped Florence up on the red carpet, taking pictures and acting like a proud dad

OLIVIA WAS IGNORED ON THE RED CARPET

Harry and Florence both went out of their way to hug everyone except Olivia, walking right past her. Neither of them talked to her, barely even looking at her

Harry stuck with talking to Gemma again, and flirting talking with Nick Kroll

When taking a picture with the whole cast, Harry’s as asked to stand next to Olivia and he refused. In this moment he also walked straight past her to fist bump Nick Kroll.

As they sat down for the movie she kept looking over trying to get Harry’s attention but he just stared straight forward or talked to Gemma

When the movie was over people only clapped for the actors, and all the actors were facing away from her and laughing with each other

Similar to Harry, Florence refused to make eye contact with Olivia when the movie audience was applauding her

HARRY AND NICK KROLL KISSED AFTER THE MOVIE. TWICE. LMAOOOOO

Olivia saw this happen and had a disgusted look on her face (link bc I can’t put any more pictures)

Edit: that not her reaction to the kiss sorry!!! Its after she was tried to get Harry’s attention and couldn’t

Also Harry and Nick 100% planned it. If you see the video they give each other a cheeky little look and go right for it. I am will to bet that Nick was like “you should just kiss me after because everyone will be expecting you to kiss her”

THE CLAPPING AFTER THE MOVIE WAS CUT SHORT BECAUSE FLORENCE LEFT

After about 3 minutes of clapping Florence started leaving and the rest of the cast followed. That’s a statement if I’ve ever seen one.

OLIVIA AND THE MOVIE ARE BEING EATEN ALIVE IN REVIEWS RIGHT NOW

(these are just a very few of the many examples)

Florence is praised for her performance, taking a bad movie and giving it her all

Harry is said to be sort of lost in the movie, not with terrible acting, just outshined by Florence’s performance. And yet it apparently still reads as a fan edit of Harry

The sex scenes that were so hyped up are supposedly very uncomfortable

So in conclusion the premiere was awkward and kind of a train wreck, as is the movie according to reviews. The actors in the movie showed up, slayed with the outfits, laughed with each other, didn’t answer a single question, not-so-subtly shaded Olivia and left.

#i was so not looking forward to everything being about Olivia today but this was leaps and bounds better than I expected #venice film festival #florence pugh #harry styles #gemma chan #chris pine #nick kroll #olivia wilde #don’t worry darling

9K notes · View notes

branded-rose · 11 days

Text

Adam bolted upright in bed, a shout on his lips that dropped off as his wings shot out, smacking his lieutenant in the head and nearly pushing her off the mattress.

Lute met the rude awakening with all the urgency it deserved, springing up and drawing her fists in front of her defensively as Adam let loose a string of profanity.

She quickly drew up the blind to let light into the room before she darted around the bed; her eyes scanning the room quickly for signs of danger even if she knew there shouldn’t be anything.

It was Heaven. What threats would there realistically be?

When she was satisfied she returned to the bed, about to ask her superior officer what sick joke he was pulling when she stopped.

Adam was pale, his hands trembling as he brought them up to wipe cold sweat from his brow. A string of curses still fell from his lips, albeit strained.

She tentatively reached a hand out, placing it gently on his shoulder.

“Uh… Sir?”

Adam flinched, turning his head to meet Lute’s concerned expression. He forced a smile and shrugged, trying his very best to play the whole thing off.

“What? Just a nightmare. Geez you’re acting like we’re being attacked or something. Relax.” He forced a laugh and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don��t get nightmares, Sir. When you wake up screaming, what else am I supposed to think?”

“Heh… right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders dropping as he exhaled and looked up at the ceiling.

“You’re lucky then. Cause they SUCK.”

Lute fell silent a moment, examining Adam closely. It wasn’t often she saw him so… uncertain. So shaken. Even in times he was unsure of himself he covered it up with bravado.

She scooted closer, pushing on his shoulder to encourage him to turn so she could realign some of the golden feathers in his wing that had dislodged when he’d struck her.

“What was it about?” Her fingers very delicately and precisely moved over the wing, sliding the feathers back into place and easing any discomfort. Something that was visible as she watched Adam’s posture relax.

“Just human stuff. You wouldn’t get it.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“You haven’t been a human in over a millennia.”

“Yeah well-“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “-that stuff stuck with me. I guess.” He shrugged, waving his hand.

Silence fell between them, Lute uncertain how to respond and Adam lost in his thoughts.

The former finished straightening up his wings, noticing how Adam’s eyes were beginning to droop as he stared into space.

She got up and closed the blinds, allowing the room to fall back into darkness before returning to her spot. Her chin brushed against his shoulder.

“You should go back to sleep.”

“Hmm? Oh… yeah.” He waited for her to get comfortable before he drew close, his arms and wings wrapping around her small frame, almost protectively.

Possessively.

Lute settled into the embrace, familiar and warm as it was. She couldn’t help but smirk softly as she rested her chin on top of his head, his ear against her chest.

“Hey… Lute. You… won’t betray me or whatever, right?” He muttered softly, his tone laced with an uncertainty that was atypical of him.

Lute’s brows furrowed slightly, confused by the suddenness of the question.

“Of course not, Sir.” Her grip on him tightened ever so slightly, a small smile on her lips.

“…I’ll always be by your side.”

-------------------------

Idea/prompt from the amazing @kimik0hippie! Seriously, their stuff singlehandedly inspired me to come out of my 800000 year hiatus and actually do illustrations again. So please go check their art out. ;D

Adam & Lute © Vivziepop/A24

Artwork © Branded-Rose

#my art #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #guitarspear #adam x lute #brandedroseart #my headcanon is that exorcists are heaven born so they wouldn't get nightmares really.

300 notes · View notes

art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: @shencomix

Shen is a digital comic artist who mainly does short-form humor but also delves heavily into horror, action, and whatever he thinks is cool at the time.

Below is our interview with him!

How would you best describe your art style?

I try to draw cute and expressive. As a short-form comic artist, I don’t have a whole lot of space to work with, so I have to make use of what space I have by pushing poses and expressions and using eye-catching color compositions.

Do you prefer working with digital or traditional mediums? Why?

I work strictly digital. There’s something really cool about how easy it is to edit. I can change the entire color balance of a drawing in seconds, whereas with a physical medium, that would take hours—and even then, you might not be satisfied with it! The ability to separate things into layers also lets me move and resize everything however I want.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

For a 4 panel comic, depending on complexity, it’s 1-4 hours. It’s really tough going under an hour with this stuff because you can’t really think at that point. You just have to go go go. For comics with more panels and more detail (like, say, a 12-panel horror comic), it can even take several full workdays. It can be stressful to bet all that time on just a single post!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

My inspiration to start my webcomic was Ronnie Filyaw’s Whomp!, which had a sort of raw humor that I had never seen in webcomics before. I binged it in just a couple of days and thought, “dang, I didn’t know webcomics could be this funny.” I also really love horror artists on Plastiboo and Trevor Henderson and of course, my comic friends like Sarah from Sarah’s Scribbles, Zach from Extrafabulous, and Justin from Mr. Lovenstein.

What is your favorite thing to draw at the moment?

Really into scary doors lately.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Alan Moore, Leonardo Da Vinci, and Alan Moore.

Alan Moore would get into a fight with Alan Moore, and I could catch Leonardo up on all that stuff that’s happened since 1519 in the background.

What are your file name conventions?

series name > YY > MM.DD - Comic Name > page.png

I’m straight-up methodical. They call me “Database Shen,” and by “they,” I mean nobody, but maybe somebody will call me that someday.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@plastiboo, who I've already mentioned, has a pretty active tumblr and always makes amazing stuff.

Thanks for stopping by, Shen! For more of his amazing comics and fun illustrations, be sure to check out @shencomix!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #webcomics #digital art #shen comix

3K notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 6 days

Note

Hi there!

I was wondering if you had any recommendations of fics that have Aziraphale as a priest? i’m in search of some but have no idea how to find them.

only ask is that it’s 3k words and up!

Thanks so much for all you do, you are truly the foundation holding the fanfiction side of Good Omens together!

lots of love x

Hello! We have #priest Aziraphale & #priests au tags. And of course there is the priest Aziraphale tag on AO3. Here are more to add to our collection...

All The Lights That Light The Way by FeralTuxedo (E)

On the run from a disastrous work Christmas party, Anthony Crowley encounters an angel singing in the streets of Soho.

& Forgive Us Our Trespasses (Of Which The First Is Love) by ineffable_angle (M)

Fleabag-inspired AU where anthropologist Dr. Anthony J Crowley becomes friends (and then definitely more) with the hot priest Father Aziraphale Moore. They meet at their high school reunion and discover that they just can't quite stay away from one another. Mainly, they debate evolution, go to brunch, and overcome Anthony's religious trauma. Some scenes and dialogue from season 2 of Fleabag do show up, but the plot is not the exact same.

The scent of incense on his fingers by gimmewhiskey (E)

Crowley knew what was twirling on Aziraphale's tongue. “Don't even think about saying you forgive me," he whispered, then turned and strode quickly to the door. Aziraphale stared after him for a few moments longer. He slowly raised his hand and touched his lips. There was a scent of incense on his fingers. ...Or the story of how a successful lawyer Anthony J. Crowley successfully pretends to forget his old love while Father Aziraphale atones for sins for them both.

(Let's) Do it again by gagna_onni (M)

Father Fell has lived his whole life in a small town in Wales. His life is simple, the community is kind and welcoming and he does all he can to help everyone. One day a guest arrives at his clergy house. And right after his arrival, things start to change in an unexpected way.

in your own time by ineffabildaddy (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Faith, Hope, and Love (And the Greatest of These Is Love) by khh1961 (E)

A young Father Aziraphale Fell takes up his first post as a junior priest, under the stern supervision of Monsignor Gabriel (who very much likes things to run his way, thank you kindly) and meets fellow parish priest, Father Anthony Crowley. Our young Father Fell is immediately captivated by Father Crowley's handsome face, ginger hair, and dead sexy Scottish accent. This looks to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But what else it may become remains to be seen. Love and the will of God are both ineffable.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #priest aziraphale #priests au #adult omens #mod d

174 notes · View notes

sohnric · 3 months

Text

bad idea, right? – k. sunwoo

pairing: soundcloud rapper! sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: exes to lovers, angst, suggestive. i know this is toxic as fuck dont @ me sometimes i like to write shit like this because it's realistic...

word count: 4k

warnings: a whole lot of arguing, swearing, both of them being toxic and childish, a heated makeout session, overall just..messy. so messy.

a/n: similivinlife u inspired this. not my proudest moment but oh well 😵 the original of this draft was for the fic dancing in my backseat on @rrxnjun that i didnt end up using and revamped for this, so if u see any similarities it is because both fics are mine :P and once again, as always, thank u @csenke my sweetest beloved for beta reading 🤍

“I don’t think you can imagine the things I have to deal with about that track, like, I was literally in the town yesterday and around six people stopped me and wanted the backstory and I don’t know what, and it’s really, really annoying–”

Your voice cuts off, being replaced by a beat that makes acid taste on your tongue and hair stand up all alert, like a feral cat’s would when you try to get close to it, making you immediately turn off the song, letting a scream out into your pillow. There’s a storm of emotions inside of you as you take the phone you’ve been listening to the new song on back into your hand and pull up his number– because you blocked him everywhere else in hopes of never seeing his face again– and shoot him an angry text about the matter.

you [7:21pm]: are you kidding me???

you [7:21pm]: you are really so damn egoistical for doing this

you [7:21pm]: really don’t think about anyone else except yourself huh

you [7:21pm]: ignore my messages again like the last time and i swear to god i’ll send someone to beat your ass

Fingers quicker than your own thoughts, you hammer down the messages on the keyboard, laced with the fury that’s been shaking with you ever since you learned that he released a new track that included yet another one of your voice messages you sent to him. It was excruciating to listen to, to say the least– your dignity stripped away slowly, piece by piece with the unsettling realization that your personal matters are now out there in the open, for everyone to see and judge, for the whole world to pick apart and analyze. Which is kind of funny, considering the nature of your breakup– you’re not so sure his fans would like what they would find out about him, had they dug deep enough.

Not saying that you are innocent in this matter, of course– you just don’t think it’s really fair to not have the platform to tell your side of the story.

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: feisty one aren’t ya

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: what’s this about

Clenching your jaw as you stare at the messages popping up on your screen only a few minutes after yours get delivered– which is unusual for him, to say the least– you work your way through another angry reply.

you [7:25pm]: your song???

don’t pick up [7:25pm]: did you like it? ;)

A dry chuckle escapes your throat at the last message. Of course you didn’t like it. You weren’t really a fan of the invasion of your privacy. You didn’t like the fact that he once again used your voice without permission, letting the whole world listen to your angry words that were addressed to him and only him. What was there for you to like about the song? His cheesy lyrics? The way he acted like he was way above you, belittling you with the power he had over you with all those voice messages?

you [7:26pm]: yes i loved the invasion of my privacy a lot, thank you sunwoo

you [7:26pm]: isnt this illegal? ill look into it

don’t pick up [7:27pm]: now you’re being ridiculous.. its just a song y/n :)

Was he being serious? Just a song? What about the prying eyes staring at you whenever you walk through the campus? What about the whispering behind your back whenever you sit in the school cafeteria? The pointed fingers whenever someone recognises that it’s you– the one that dated the good-for-nothing Soundcloud rapper and then broke his poor little heart. Was it ever really just a song?

you [7:28pm]: you cant be fr rn..

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: ah…let’s just talk abt it then

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: i’ll pick u up at 8?

Staring at the messages on the screen, you let out another dry chuckle. The skin of your fingertips tingles when you swipe across the surface of your phone, opening the messaging app once again and tapping on the little bubble on the bottom, making the keyboard appear. The gears in your brain turn in swift motion as you try to sound nonchalant in your response, typing and deleting the message again, never getting the tone quite right.

Responding to your ex boyfriend’s jabs and teasing in person seems to be easier for you, contrary to popular demand– you don’t have much time to think of your answer before the time frame between your arguments would turn too awkward with the silence, so you just say the first thing that comes to your mind. It comes naturally to you, though, and while you don’t particularly enjoy the fury and adrenaline that his smug smirks and jarring words make you feel, the tension his sudden messages built up only makes you more hesitant.

You haven’t met up with Kim Sunwoo since the day you ended things, and you know damn well there’s a good reason for it.

Seeing him around campus or at parties of your mutual friends is a whole other thing than being with him in a closed space, all alone. It’s been a month since you ended things and while you are fairly certain that Sunwoo is a major jerk that is out to ruin your life, you can’t really tell if you’re actually over the major jerk that is out to ruin your life.

Seemingly letting Sunwoo know that you have the chat open, letting him watch your chat bubble pathetically appear and disappear in consistent time intervals, another quick message is shot your way, making your heart drum against your rib cage in even swifter motions. Running your hand through your hair, you sigh and drop the phone into your lap, helpless.

don’t pick up [7:40pm]: i’ll take it as yes

Sighing to yourself, you stand up from your bed and put on some presentable clothes. You don’t want to give Sunwoo any ideas, and that’s why you only change into clean sweatpants and a tank top, not putting much effort into your appearance at all. You need to send him the signal of being nonchalant– although your stance on the way he uses you in his songs is full of anger and resentment, you don’t want it to seem like you care much about the man himself at all.

Dragging yourself out of your room and putting on your shoes, you bump into your roommate Aeri passing you by with a mug of tea, her hair in a towel as she just came out of the shower. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Going out,” you grunt.

“Oh?” she hums, leaning into the doorframe, “with who?”

The question catches you off guard. Turning around on your heel, you flash her an innocent smile, brain thinking of every possible solution you could use to not tell her that you’re going out with the exact person you’ve spent the last few weeks grunting over in dismay. “No one important,” you start, when her face morphs into a distressed frown.

“Is it Sunwoo?”

“Look, I-”

“It is fucking Sunwoo! I heard you scream into your pillow just now, I should’ve known it was that prick again,” she grunts, her guess confirmed by the very obvious discomfort on your face, suddenly in a hurry when you try to get out of the house in one swift motion and save yourself from the cross-examining conversation that’s surely about to happen judging by the look in Aeri’s face.

“I gotta go-”

“What about all your ‘I don’t ever wanna see him again’ talk?” she sighs, clearly disappointed with your life choices.

“Look, it’s about the songs he’s been putting out. He’s being an ass about replying back to my messages and god knows I’m not calling him, or else he’d record it and put it in another song like the freak he is,” you squint your eyes at her, making sure your intentions are clear to your worried roommate.

“Oh, right, because he’s going out with you just to talk,” she mutters, “when all you two have done since you broke up is argue. Mhm, seems about correct,” Aeri adds, making the situation even worse than it already was, because she’s right, after all– when have the two of you held a normal conversation in the past few weeks? Seeing him tonight might just be the worst idea of your life– right after deciding to date him, of course– and you’re completely aware of the fact.

Opening your mouth to answer with a jarring comment meant to put your roommate back in her place, the words are taken off your tongue when you hear the ring of your phone, the notification on your screen flashing with his messages.

don’t pick up [8:04pm]: youre 5 mins late

don’t pick up [8:05pm]: come out

“Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk about this later,” you mumble as you take your bag off the hanger, Aeri’s disapproving eyes following you as you head towards the door.

“Right. Have fun,” she ironically sings, knowing very well what Kim Sunwoo’s intentions are for the night. Still, you fakely gag to her comment before you’re out the door and walking down the entryway.

As your figure walks out of the apartment complex, you almost don’t notice the man. You were expecting him to be waiting just behind the door, resting against the wall as he usually did back when you two were dating. The sight that meets your eye shocks you a little when you find him leaning against a 2007 Audi A4, the silver exterior of the car contrasting with the darkness of his clothes, hands folded on his chest as he watches you with an overly-confident smirk.

“Took you long enough,” he teases as you finally cut through the distance.

“Didn’t know you were so eager to see me,” you bite back, eyes scanning the vehicle. “Did you finally get a car with that new profession of yours? Or is that another one of your friend’s again?” you point towards the car, making the boy chuckle.

“Mine,” he says, “my ‘good-for-nothing career’ is taking off, as you may have noticed,” he hums, referencing all the arguments you two used to have about his dreams and ambitions, making you wince a little at the comment. You never believed in him ever making it big– you just didn’t think his dreams were ever really realistic– but judging by the way it’s been going for him, you must admit you may have been wrong with your snarky arguments before.

“Well, it’s not much, then,” you mutter instead, pretending to judge the state of his old, used-looking car.

“Gets the job done,” he shrugs as he peels himself off the door, opening the passenger side and sparing you a short glance. “Hop in?”

Sunwoo doesn’t wait for you to sit down so he can close the door after you– instead, he walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side, getting in himself– much to the gentleman he’s always been. Making sure you slam the door shut with as much force as you can, just to anger the man and his new toy, you fasten your seatbelt and watch as Sunwoo winces, but doesn’t mention it when he turns the engine on with a turn of the key and drives off the parking lot.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, watching as the male snickers to himself. The calmness of his composure makes you oh so annoyed, making you despise every second spent together with him in the small space breathing in his cologne and listening to the songs playing through the speakers, reminding you of the playlist he’d always put on when he was given the privilege of the aux cord.

“What? Are you scared I’m gonna kill you?” Sunwoo jokes.

“Seeming that you’re batshit crazy, one can’t know what to expect from you nowadays,” you grunt, making him cheese with amusement.

“I thought I was just ‘a loser Soundcloud rapper that can’t do anything in life’,” he repeats to you a sentence you uttered out upon your breakup, the emotions getting the worst out of you after the way he’s been treating you. “Would a loser like me kill you? I don’t think so.”

“Very funny, Sunwoo,” you ironically bite back, rolling your eyes at his composure. The fact that he seemingly has the upper hand on you in the conversation makes you falter a little bit. “I just wanted to talk about the songs you’ve been putting out.”

“You wanted to tell me how much you like them? Thank you, I’m flattered–”

“No, you idiot. I wanted to talk to you about how uncomfortable they’re making me feel!” you yell out, making the male wince.

There’s a momentarily silence in the car as the male drives, the streetlamps disappearing out of sight as he drives away from the city, into more sparse areas. His voice is a little more serious when he speaks up now, the lack of teasing in his tone making shivers run down your spine. “I don’t think it’s that serious, really.”

“Really?” you chuckle. “Because I don’t find it fun when people stop me on the street and ask all about our relationship, Sunwoo. Because I don’t know if you noticed, but you never asked for my permission when you used those.”

The sound of your own voice resonates through your brain, the first voice message he ever used in one of his songs (the one that made him finally more popular, funnily enough) making you sigh out in the darkness of the car. ‘Just.. I dunno, I said sorry, I apologized, I don’t know what more you want me to do.. like, what’s going on? Literally nothing, so like.. can’t we just… move on from this and… fucking let it go?’

“One would think you’d stop sending me these after the first one,” Sunwoo utters out, voice low and almost a little amused, which makes you tip over the edge.

“And I would think you wouldn’t use audio of me being vulnerable with you in a fucking song that everyone would hear, Sunwoo!”

“Oh, did you mean that part where you called me a hypocrite for hanging out with my friends from high school without telling you? Or the part where you cursed me out after you broke up with me because I dared to text you again–”

“I was trying to pierce things back together!” you yell, making the male quiet down, resulting in taking a right turn towards a dead-end, the road approaching a forest. Not a single soul is to be found around here except the two of you, and when he turns the engine off, but stays staring ahead of him towards the trees, you continue with everything you’ve been holding inside of you– instead this time, your voice is more quiet, not having to scream over the sounds of the car anymore.

“I was apologizing. I was trying to make us work, Sunwoo. And just because you didn’t see it or didn’t have it in you to pay attention to me that night, it doesn’t give you the right to exploit me for your gain and make a fool out of me in front of everyone,” you say, watching as the male chews on the inside of his cheek.

“You are the one that broke up with me,” he says into the silence, “not the other way around.”

A moment of silence hangs over you two like a heavy jacket. You were well aware of the fact– you broke up with Sunwoo after the night he went out with all of his female friends from high school, not telling you a thing about it before you found out through an Instagram story of one of them. You knew he was being petty, you knew he was doing it just to get back at you– because you never passed out on a chance to make him feel jealous, getting back at him for all the controlling comments he would make whenever you went out to clubs with your girlfriends– but it still drove you up against the wall and made you break.

Maybe you and Sunwoo weren’t made for each other. There’s no denying that you loved each other– you just didn’t really know how to handle your relationship. You never really learned how to handle problems. How to resolve issues. Both of you were too immature for the other, and it would never work– you only came to this conclusion after many tear-filled evenings, but coming to peace with it is still yet to come.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

The male scoffs, turning his head towards you, meeting your eye. “Did you even listen to the songs?”

“Of course I did, how else would I know–”

“Then you must have noticed that I’m not making fun of you, or putting you on blast, or belittling you, or whatever you and your friends have said about me for the past month,” he counts on his fingers as he recites the words with an annoyed tone, big eyes bearing into yours.

“You exposed me being vulnerable.”

“I’m vulnerable in these too!” he urges out, eyebrows furrowing at you in exasperation.

“That’s your fucking choice! Don’t drag me into it!”

While you must admit that none of the lyrics Sunwoo’s ever written about you were lies, or making fun of you or throwing harsh words in your direction, you still feel as if a chunk of you has been thrown out in the open, for anyone to pick apart and poke around. You always told Sunwoo you liked his way with words, and there is no denying that his lyrics, although they were painfully honest, were quite beautiful. If you weren’t the one the songs were about, maybe you’d even like them. Maybe you could give them a listen without feeling like you want to crawl out of your skin. Maybe you could add them to your playlist without feeling ashamed that you’re still thinking about the male, picking apart your relationship like every outsider has been doing since the songs went viral, but instead, finding places where you could’ve done things differently and kept him by your side.

It was hard to listen to his words and see the reflections of your past flashing in front of your eyes like a movie. While you admit that he did the timeline of your relationship justice, you do despise the fact that his words are getting to you so much.

You don’t like hearing about the things you’ve done wrong. You don’t like listening to him apologize– although he would never do so directly. You don’t like to hear him say that he misses you, because it makes it hard for you to keep your fair distance from him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking… Can you drive me home, Sunwoo? We’re clearly not on the same page about this,” you say, averting your gaze from him towards the window.

“No.”

“Sunwoo, can you please drive me–”

“Not until we talk about this, no,” he says firmly, watching you foam over with fury.

“What else is there to talk about?”

“Us!”

“There’s no us anymore, Sunwoo! And I think it’s the time you come to terms with that and stop abusing our failed relationship for your stupid songs,” you bark, throwing daggers into his skull with your fierce eyes.

“So you get to go and post angry tweets and badmouth me in front of your friends, but when I cope in a perfectly respectful manner, it’s wrong?” he argues, scoffing and shaking his head at you.

“God, you’re unbelievable. You’re comparing two vastly different things–”

“Do you not like the songs because you feel exposed, or do you not like them because I’m saying exactly what you don’t want to hear?” he asks, eyes bearing into yours with such heaviness you feel like you could cut the tension with a knife.

“Like what? That you think I regret breaking up with you?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Why else would you pick a fight with me every time I call? Why pick it up at all?”

“Why do you call, then?” you challenge him, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The male leans closer to you, sparks dancing in his eyes when his voice resonates through the car like a low thunder, making the tips of your fingertips buzz and your heart beat faster.

“You know exactly why I call.”

“To make me angry and get me to scream at you?”

“If that means I get to talk to you,” he shrugs, a subtle grin overtaking his features, a churn of your stomach warning you of the dangerous area you just entered.

Eyes never breaking contact with his, relishing in the way his hungry gaze picks you apart, you attempt to conceal your true feelings with an annoyed comment. “This isn’t going anywhere,” you muse, “god, I never wanna see your face again.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, teasing you. “That’s what you said last time,” he says, “so what are you doing in my car then, babydoll?”

The pet name makes your stomach drop, the lightness in your head coming back to you as you furrow your brows at the male, trying hard to come up with a smart remark. Your brain turns into liquid and there’s buzzing in your ears as you try to focus on staying calm and true to your best judgment, but the moment Sunwoo’s head leans even closer to your face, his words render you both speechless and thoughtless as he mutters a sentence that’s barely louder than a whisper, yet powerful enough to pull you in.

“Stop fighting me for once, will you?”

Your lips are pushed against his with force, the kiss mirroring the essence of being starved of each other for the past month. His plush lips move against yours with the skill that only a man you’ve spent tens and hundreds of nights kissing would acquire, his hand placed on your jaw to steady you, adjusting the pace of his kisses just the way you always liked it.

A force that’s greater than yourself brings you out of your seat and into the driver’s lap, giving the male better access to your throat as you settle comfortably under your newly acquired human chair. His strong thighs flex under you when you thread your fingers through his hair, bringing him back up to connect your lips together before he breathlessly pulls away, gazing at you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Why did we even break up again?” he jokes.

You reply to him with the same lightness of your tone, shrugging. “Because you were a jealous, possessive prick and I had a short temper that always egged you on?” you say, watching as the male pretends to ponder on the information, humming to himself.

“I think I can put that past me.”

“Can you?” you joke, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb, a sly smirk playing with your lips as you lean over him and press a firm, yet short peck to his swollen lips. “Or will you make another mediocre song about it?”

“Don’t call them mediocre,” he squints at you, eyes tracing your face when your hands slip further down his face to cradle his jaw, thumbs padding his lips.

“I easily outdid you on your own song, Kim Sunwoo.”

“That’s why I add you in, actually.”

“Really?” you snicker, tone full of fake disbelief. His hands hold your sides when you lean over the man and latch yourself to his neck, dragging out kisses up and down his warm skin. “Will you make a song for each of our arguments, then?”

Teeth scraping the skin of his throat, you find the male humming under you in pleasure and satisfaction. He has you right where he wanted you– and although this is not how you imagined the night to go, you don’t find yourself disappointed with the turn of events. The previous annoyance is still there, but now is shielded by the need in you, the longing for him you can’t really battle whenever he is around.

Settling deeper against his body, you feel the male slip one hand into your hair, tugging at the roots of your hair gently to bring your face back to his, averting your attention away from the love bites you’ve been placing on his skin.

“Unless you give me another topic to write about,” he suggests, his hungry lips swallowing your reply.

You and Sunwoo were never really good for each other. Too messy, too turbulent, but too consumed with the other to ever truly let go. Seeing him tonight surely wasn’t the best of your ideas– but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t silently hope the evening would turn out this way.

You and Sunwoo were never the ones to make good decisions when it came to the other one anyway. What’s one another badly calculated step in your relationship gonna do?

289 notes · View notes

arlh0e · 4 months

Note

Hiii if you are actually serious about taking requests then I was wondering if you could do something fluffy based on hozier’s song ‘to someone from a warmer climate’ because as someone from somewhere very alike to Ireland in climate it did something my heart heart the first time I heard it lol. I love how you write Andrew and just how you write tbh if you do end up writing it thanks in advance 💛💛💛

It came easy, darling

This is actually perfect for me right now because it is actually colder where I live than it is in Antarctica right now. Im being so dead ass.

Rating: PG-13 (this is the tamest fic I have ever written)

Warnings: Hozier x gn!reader, fluff, comfort, established relationship, COLD weather, not even attempting at using irish slang cause I’ll fuck it up.

Coming home from work today was an utter nightmare. You could’ve sworn that rain while it was so cold was arguably so much worse than snow or ice.

You had lived here your whole life and yet it never got any easier to live somewhere where it got this cold on a regular basis.

Today though, there was something different about this cold. Usually it was manageable, but today, you had trouble even with your numerous layers, staying warm in the brief periods of time that you were outside. It was the kind of cold that chilled you to the bone.

And what made it worse was the fact that the heater in your car had all but decided to completely shit the bed this morning. By the time you had gotten home, you could have sworn that you were at risk of losing a few toes.

Walking through the door, you were almost immediately greeted with the sound of Andrew upstairs playing with the band. You smiled. His idea to convert one of the extra bedrooms in the house you lived in together into a music room had been a fantastic one. He could work and record from home whenever he wanted. He loved being able to let an idea take him whenever the inspiration struck and having everything he needed in one room in the house made that so much easier for him.

You began peeling off your (now soaked) outer layers to hang them on the coat hooks next to the door. You quickly realized that even though you had been wearing several coats, the rain had soaked through to your shirt. Wonderful.

Still shivering, you made your way upstairs to your bedroom and quickly replaced your wet clothes with dry ones. Sweats and a shirt you had gotten from Andrews side of the closet, which was almost comically large on you.

You were still quite cold, so you grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around your shoulders before making your way toward where the band was practicing.

You loved watching them play. Specifically, you loved watching Andrew play. It was like his music transformed him, he was passionate and powerful and confident when he was playing. You entered the room quietly and curled up on the small couch Andrew had put in the room, specifically so that you could sit there and watch him if you wanted to.

They were running through a moment silence (common tongue), a song which he had written in one night while sitting next to you after and encounter which at the time he had said was “some of our best work”

You always wondered how he could get up on stage and sing about such things, especially considering that just listening to the things he had written about some of the nights you’d spent together made you incredibly flustered.

You found the whole thing sweet of course. The idea of this man being so entirely enthralled with you that you had inspired a rather large portion of his music over the years was flattering to say the absolute least. You were his muse and he made sure you were all too well aware of his music being about you, even if he was incredibly private about details when it came to his following.

“Love, you’re shivering.” Andrews voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You were so far in thought that you hadn’t even realized how cold you really were.

“Oh, yeah it’s a bit cold out there. I got a little bit wet with the rain, Im okay though.” You shrug a bit.

“No you’re not. Go to bed, turn on a movie, I’ll be there in a a few minutes.” He stands from his stool at the front of the room and sets his guitar down on the stand by the wall.

“It’s fine, I don’t want to interrupt.” You shake your head and move the blanket farther over your shoulders. “I’m okay, really.”

“We were just about done anyways, you’re not interrupting anything, darling.” He chuckles quietly and walks over to take your hands, pulling you to stand in front of him.

He places a soft kiss you your forehead, causing a happy sigh to escape your lips. “Go to bed, I’ll bring you some tea.” You nodded and leaned into his touch. You were still cold, so it didn’t take much for you to give up and do what he asked.

When you got to your bedroom and laid down under the blankets, it was the first time that you fully recognized just how cold you really were. You were violently shivering, teeth chattering, and desperately rubbing your legs together under the covers to try and generate heat.

You moved to pick up the remote from the nightstand next to Andrews side of the bed, turning the tv on. You scroll through Netflix, looking for something to watch for a bit before Andrew came in with two coffee mugs and handed you yours before making his way to the other side of the bed.

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer to him so that your head rested against his chest, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Why don’t we watch that documentary you started the other day?”

You gave him a funny look. “I thought you said you didn’t like watching murder documentaries with me?” You both laughed a little bit as you went back and clicked on the title.

“Yes, I think you’re weird for spending so much time learning about how people get away with murder, your bad list is not a place I would want to end up, however, you’re cold, so I’ll humor you.” He squeezed you a bit tighter for a second, and you started to feel yourself warm up just a bit.

He was always so warm. It was like just radiated heat from his every inch. You always found yourself nuzzling into his heat, but especially at times like this, being so close to him was one of the best feelings. Even when you weren’t saying anything to each other, moments like this were your favorite.

The intimacy between the two of you in moments like this was something that you always craved. The way he absentmindedly drew his fingers through your hair and held you so close to him was something you ached for when he wasn’t around, a privilege that you could never imagine taking for granted.

You found yourself paying more attention to the even sound of his breathing and the fluttering of his heartbeat than what was happening on the screen. You closed your eyes, sighing in content as you listened.

Every part of him was made of music, it seemed. His heartbeat was steady, creating a steady rhythm for the air in his lungs to sing along with. He was magnificent. Everything about him was nothing short of awe inspiring. He was beautiful, perfect even.

I could hear him start to hum a melody that was unfamiliar to me. It was beautiful. It was a soft, soaring melody line that was a little bit higher than his usual range. Nevertheless it was beautiful.

Looking up at his face, he looked completely lost in thought and he hummed the melody. “If you need to go write, its okay. I’m nice and warm now, it’s fine.” You smile up at him lovingly. You simply adored the way his mind worked. The way he could make music out of the simplest of thoughts.

“No, I wanna stay.” He pulled you even tighter to his chest, you were almost impossibly close, but it was in no way uncomfortable. “You help me think.” His face held nothing but pure love and adoration looking back at yours. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this much love for one person, and yet there he was holding your whole heart in the palm of his hands, the same way you held his.

His voice was soft, loving, so incredibly soothing as he sang the words while they passed through is head.

‘The feel of coldness only water brings

There are some things that no one teaches you, love

That come natural as a dream, you didn't know that you were in

And darlin', all my dreamin'

Is only put to shame

And darlin', all my dreamin'

Has only been given a name

it came easy, darlin'

As natural as another leg around you in the bed frame’

You could feel your heart melting at every word. Every time you thought that there was no possible way your love for him could grow, he did something that made you fall endlessly more in love with him. He truly was the only person you could ever see yourself being with.

Loving him was the easiest thing you had ever done, and hearing that he felt the same made your entire being melt into a puddle at his feet. You were putty in his hands. “I love you endlessly, Andrew.” You said it softly, but with so much power. Like if there was one thing in the whole world you could be sure of, it was your love for him, and to an extent that was true.

You loved him recklessly. In a way that was so intense it engulfed your entire being, swallowed you whole.

“I love you, more than anyone has ever loved anyone.”

:) I hipe this was okay, thank you for the request love you <3

165 notes · View notes

bluefairyhere · 5 months

Text

Same time tomorrow?|| Colby Brock scenario

¬Colby meets a girl at a coffee shop.

Pairing->f!reader x f!reader

w.c 1.7k

cw. very fluffy and corny

Almost every morning was the same for you. Get up, take a shower, grab your books and laptop and head to the coffee shop down the street to get productive. For some reason it was easier for you to focus and avoid procrastinating at said coffee shop, which was beautiful.

Vines all over the wall outside, this white, cottage-core-like vibe that you got from all the arrangements inside. The plants, the yellow-ish lighting, the kind old lady bartending--who you always thought was the owner--the bookshelves on two of the walls inside. Everything about this coffee shop was perfect and it screamed inspiration. It was the place you felt the most calm at. Until you saw him for the first time.

His dark hair falling a little on his forehead, his piercing blue eyes, muscular complexion and tattoos. His nose piercing and the chains plus the rings on almost every finger. He was so mysterious and edgy.

You could still remember the first time you saw him walk in. You usually never noticed whoever walked throught the door, but for some reason as soon as the little doorbell rang indicating someone'd come in, you felt an electrifying need to see who it was. And it was him, of course, with his sufficient smirk and careless demeanor. Yet when he ordered his coffee he acted so nice and happy, not edgy and damp. From the very first moment you found him fascinating.

Then the next morning he came back, but unlike the day before he actually stayed to drink his coffee while scrolling on his phone and didn't even notice you were there. Not like you were expecting him to. He was probably taken, or a total player and either way he wouldn't look in your direction. Why would he? you were just a simple literature major trying to get through the weeks without losing your mind. But you had no idea how wrong you were, because Colby had noticed you from the very first day.

He remembered going into the coffee shop Sam had told him about--apparently they made the best coffee of all times at the lowest price ever witnessed for such quality, or so Sam said-- and not being disappointed with what he ordered. But while he was in line to order he'd noticed you from afar, at the back of the whole establishment, focused on your books and laptop. He instantly thought you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, and your aura seemed so tender and pure. He knew right away he wanted to get to know you, but how? It's not like he could just casually sit down at the table, introduce himself and ask you out. So the next day, he went to the coffee shop again, and there you were. Same table, same books, same laptop. He went for a week and he started to bring his stuff as well, mostly his laptop to do some editing and research for his videos. Hell week was coming so all the recording was already done, now they just needed to do the editing, and he also found the coffee shop an extremely relaxing and nice place to get stuff done. Plus, when he got tired, he'd look at you for a few seconds and feel recharged again. It was the weirdest thing, he wasn’t one to feel so connected to someone he’d never talked to before.

When you noticed he started sitting in the shop and working as he ate and drank his now usual muffin and what seemed to be plain coffee, you couldn’t help but imagine little scenarios in your head in which you’d go up to him and say anything, or he’d come up to you and…

“Hey.” You looked up, killing your previous train of thought. It was him. A plain black shirt with a XPLORE inscription in white, ripped black jeans with chains, rings on his fingers and his nose piercing practically staring at you.

“Huh?” Is all you could mumble. You did not expect this.

“May I sit here?” He asked with a small smirk, and you nodded.

“I noticed you since the very first time I came into this coffee shop… please let me take you on a date.”

You were about to say something when your phone rang, waking you up. It was a dream, you dosed off on the chair, head on the table. You looked around and he was gone, luckily. You hoped he didn’t see you like that.

And so the days kept going by and you continued to see him at the coffee shop, still daydreaming about who this handsome stranger was and the things you could do together. You were already at peace with the idea of him being nothing but a proximity crush and never really knowing anything about him, not even his name. Until one day he just stopped going. One day passed, then three and before you knew it, it had been a week.

You had no idea why. It’s not like you were super sad, but you missed seeing him around. You thought your proximity crush would die with his absence, but much to your surprise it actually didn't affect the way you were starting to feel about this handsome stranger.

All of a sudden, one day he came back. What you didn't know is that he had come back from recording at another haunted location with Sam and the crew, where he had an epiphany. He needed to talk to you. So that day, when you walked into the coffee shop he was sitting at your usual table, at your exact usual spot of the table too. Why would he do that? Surely he must have noticed you sit there every morning. You looked around, unsure about what to do. You even looked at the bar tender, but all the old lady had to do about it was giggle and shake her head, clearly amused.

You sighed and decided you'd take the table next to that one, so you were walking right past it. You were about to put all your stuff on said table but Colby's raspy voice prevented you from it.

"You don't need to sit there." You stopped on your tracks, not believing what you were hearing. You turned back to him.

"Sorry?" You acknowledging him made Colby feel way less confident, but he didn't show it.

"I'm not new here, I know you usually sit here. I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind... sharing a table with me?"

You looked around, confused. At this time of the day the shop wasn't very concurred with people so there was no need to share a table with a stranger. Even so, you had no idea why you were pushing things since getting to know him was all you wanted to do since you saw him for the first time. "I'm sorry but... why?"

Colby seemed to hesitate, but he had gone through almost every possible outcome of this situation with Sam. He could do this. He had to, it was now or never.

"I just figured it'd be nice. I'm Colby, Colby Brock." He stands up and offers his hand for you to shake. However, youre too stunned to process that. Just what was going on? Was he asking you to sit with him? For real?

"Im y/n, nice to meet you too." You were a little hesitant too, but honestly this was all you dreamt of lately, and it was finally happening. You decided to not overthinking and just sit down, right in front of you.

At first it was a little awkward, neither of you knew what to say.

"So, I've always wondered," Colby broke the silence "what is it you do with so many books every morning? And like you stick post-it's on it and write notes on your laptop... are you like a writer doing research or?"

You giggles a bit.

"Not really, I'm actually a literature major. I come here in the mornings to do my homework and papers and stuff." You said still smiling. "I could show you if you'd like."

"Yea sure, I'd love to see." So you took out your stuff and showed him the goods. You were currently working with two books.

"So what we're doing is making an essay comparing the accuracy of The Song of Achilles with the actual Achilles legend thing, its really interesting because..." And he was actually listening! A couple of hours passed and you learnt a lot about each other. You learnt he's a youtuber, hasn't been in a relationship for a while, likes writing music, is religious, amongst other things. And he learnt even more stuff about you since he couldn't stop asking. He was so obviously very interested. But you both realized it was time to go and continue with the day.

"This has been lovely," you said "but unfortunately if I dont leave now I won't be able to make it to campus on time." You said almost pouting.

"Yea I know, I have a meeting with the crew as well... But before you go," he seemed unsure about whether to say this or not, but after what seemed like a quick internal debate, he decided he'd say it. "I had been wanting to talk to you for weeks, and I'm glad I did. Maybe we could exchange numbers, if that's something you'd like to do?"

You felt your cheeks instantly redden. You were so sure this was going to be a one time thing, but you were so glad he was asking because you wanted this to happen again. And again. And again. You nodded.

"Of course." You offered him your phone so he'd type your number. After he was done you dialed his phone. "All done, have a good day." And you left. When you reached the door you looked back, and there he was, starting at you with that cute, satisfied smile of his. You waved and smile and he did so back. Then you left, and before you got to the bus stop you got a text message.

Same time tomorrow?

#colby brock #colby brock fluff #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #hell week #colby brock scenario #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #fanfic #sam and colby fanfiction

201 notes · View notes

kimsohn · 8 months

Text

it takes 2 to mango

pairing . beomgyu x gn! reader (ft. yunjin of le sserafim) about . 12.2k words, fluff + angst warnings . cursing, a lot of food mentions, kissing, mentions of murder/dying (it's all jokes), y/n is in denial half the time (about beomgyu and mangoes), it took me like 2 months to write this so it may be all over the place i'm sorry in advance

synopsis . after your parents drop you off at your aunt's, leaving you with your whole life packed in bags, all you can do is wonder when you'll finally be able to get back to your old life. except, of course, when a brown-haired boy makes you wonder if staying here isn't so bad after all. note . literally after 2 years of delay and many plot changes it's finally here!! happy (late) birthday @urmelo, i told you i would write it and it's here (albeit two months late but wtv). also i literally wrote this whole thing based on this image but halfway through i realized he's sitting in a classroom so my whole broadcast idea was stupid 😞 and this is slightly inspired by all of us are dead and f4thailand! i stole the mango pun from google tagging . @invuwrld @tocupid @mmmsvnts @seung-scrittore

You have never loathed mangoes more than this moment.

It’s only been a couple of hours since your parents dropped you off at your aunt’s house, your whole life packed into suitcases and a Hello Kitty backpack you’ve owned since fifth grade, and you’re already sick of this situation. You don’t even understand your parents’ thought process, because who would even leave their whole life behind to start a mango supply business in Thailand, and you’re even angrier at your aunt for encouraging it. Now, you’re forced to leave behind the comfort of your old life and start anew in the four walls of your new house, miles away from your parents and old friends.

You even hate the stupid smile on your mom’s face when you agreed to their plan. At least you’ll be somewhat rich when your parents decide to come home, however long that might take (hopefully it’s within the next five minutes or so).

“Y/N, let me know if you want to paint your walls, okay? Your uncle loves interior design, so he’ll be happy to organize your room.”

In your old house, your walls were a bright, cheery yellow. Now they’re a boring beige, reminiscent of the hospital walls you’ve always hated. It’s okay though, because now yellow will remind you of mangoes, and you’re just about ready to hurl something at the mere thought of the fruit.

“It’s okay Auntie,” you respond, tracing your finger across the indents of the walls, “I kind of like the beige.”

Your cousin Yeonjun snickers from behind your aunt, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Yeonjun is definitely the type to hate beige because even his personality shines a bright red flag. Even now, he’s on his phone, probably flirting with (code word for annoying) some poor soul.

“Okay, honey. Yeonjun can help you finish unpacking, and then he can take you to school so you can find your classes. Tomorrow is your first day, after all, I don’t want you to get lost.”

With that, she closes the door behind you, leaving the two of you in your drab room with no personality. Instead of helping you unpack, Yeonjun sits on the chair in the corner, typing away with no care in his mind.

“I thought you were supposed to help?” you huff, though it’s not angrily.

Even though you and your cousin were friends, at first forcibly due to your family relations and later willingly because he’s actually quite interesting, you know that he won’t hesitate to note whatever he can to have leverage over you. Already, he’s taken a picture of your backpack, and if he helps you unpack, he’ll definitely find the shark plushie you brought for the sentiment. It’s not out of malice; it’s just the way your relationship is, however annoying it may be.

“Like you need my help,” he scoffs, crossing one leg over the other as a means to get comfortable, “just let me know when you’re done.”

You survey the mess of your belongings scattered across the bed. It’ll probably take hours, if not days, to sort out properly, and even you are itching to leave this stuffy room and get some fresh air. You’ve sorted out what you need for the next few days, so you might as well revisit this mess later.

“Actually, we can go now. I kind of need a break anyway.”

“Goody-two-shoes Y/N needs a break? Are you in your rebel era?” he jokes, but he opens the door and sticks a leg out, leaving it open for you to walk through.

You smack him on the shoulder as you walk to his car, sitting shotgun and itching to put your feet on the dash. You’re an average kid and you do average things, but you’re not in the mood to argue and correct your cousin.

“Just shut up and drive.”

You kind of wish you stayed at home because even mangoes wouldn’t survive in this environment.

Actually, there’s nothing wrong with your new school. It seems even more modern and spacious than your old one, and it has way more amenities than you could even imagine. You can see yourself fitting in here quite well, and since Yeonjun is popular, it’ll be easy to make friends.

The only problem is that the air conditioner isn’t working today, which means it’s extremely hot in the building. The hot sun outside paired with the lack of cool air means the whole building could resemble the Sahara Desert, and you wish you’d worn something more fitting for the weather, like the tank top Yeonjun has on right now (although, he seems to have other motives for wearing it). The sweat beads trickle down your forehead, and the only thing saving you right now is the popsicle your cousin was kind enough to buy for you. Unluckily, the gas station only had the mango flavor left.

“Yeonjun, are we done yet?” you ask, although it sounds more like a plea as you trudge along the hallways.

“Actually, no. We still have the science hallway, and the math hallway, and—”

A shrill noise fills the air, and you cover your ears shut and watch Yeonjun’s popsicle fall from his hands. Startled, the two of you find stability against the wall as the sound disappears and is replaced with crackling noises.

“Fuck, my popsicle!” Yeonjun exclaims, looking extremely disappointed as he grabs a tissue and cleans the mess up.

“Forget the popsicle, what was that? It’s a Sunday, who’s playing with the speakers?”

“It’s probably the media team preparing for the week’s announcements. Come, I’ll show you the broadcast studio.”

Yeonjun’s flip-flops squeak across the floor as you two walk, and in a matter of minutes, you reach a bright blue door next to the auditorium. Big block letters indicating which room it is are engraved on top, and Yeonjun knocks on the door repeatedly until it opens.

“I knew it was you,” a blue-haired boy answers, “you’re the only one annoying enough to knock that many times.”

“Hey! You should’ve answered faster.” Yeonjun protests as you giggle, glad you’re not the only one who finds your cousin annoying.

The boy pouts as he lets you two inside, and immediately you feel like you were cast into a recording studio. Shelves of CDs and books fill the sides, and behind the glass panel, a room full of microphones and levers peeks through. You feel like Radio Rebel in her bedroom, only intensified, and as you check out the large computer screens that line the walls, you find yourself imagining sitting in the center and being a part of whatever goes on behind the scenes here.

Your eyes cross over a brown-haired boy sitting at the table, headphones covering his plush hair and a teal highlighter in his hand. He’s looking down at a piece of paper, probably a script, and unknowingly you’re leaning forward to get a better look at his face before Yeonjun taps your shoulder and you straighten yourself.

“Y/N, this is Soobin,” Yeonjun gestures to the blue-haired boy, “and that over there is Beomgyu,” he continues, pointing to the boy at the desk.

Soobin smiles warmly, shaking your hand awkwardly as if this was a courthouse and not a classroom, but your eyes are more focused on Beomgyu. They’re focused on the way he taps the highlighter on his lips when he’s deep in thought, or when he adjusts his headphones when he’s satisfied with something. Yeonjun moves to interrupt him, probably to introduce you, but you hold him back so he can continue his work.

“Are you interested in joining?” Soobin asks, handing you a flyer, “we could always use more people.”

“I’m not that much of a speaker,” you respond, taking the handout anyway.

“You don’t need to be. We do more here than just talk, you know?”

As Soobin waves you goodbye, you take one last glance at the room, particularly Beomgyu, before you step out. You don’t know for sure whether you’ll join the club or not, but you have a feeling that you’ll be seeing him around pretty soon.

You might hate your alarm clock more than you hate mangoes, but at least it’s useful.

It’s the first day at your new school, but you’re not really jumping for joy. School is school wherever you go, and you don’t really feel the excitement or jitters someone would usually feel after transferring. You’re just about ready to pass through the rest of the year as smoothly as possible and hopefully not gain unwanted attention as the resident new kid. You’re already suffering enough by joining after a whole semester; you don’t need to bring any more trouble to yourself.

“Y/N, are you ready?” Yeonjun yells from outside the house, revving the accelerator so you can hear his annoyance.

“Coming!” you yell back, grabbing your bag and rushing out the door, holding a half-eaten piece of toast and a glass of orange juice.

Yeonjun likes to go to school a little early so he can talk to his friends, but this was a fact you didn’t know until five minutes ago. In an ideal situation, you wouldn’t have been rushing on your first day, but your cousin never makes things easy for you. At least he didn’t drive off without you.

Yeonjun attempts to lecture you about your lateness in the car, but you tell him to pay attention to the road and stuff the toast in your mouth. One thing you won’t let your cousin disturb you about is food, so you’re glad he calms down and lets you enjoy a peaceful ride to school.

You’re finishing your orange juice as he pulls into the student parking lot. He has a spot reserved for him, apparently, and the fact seems to be true as he parks in the space with “YEONJUN” decorated in bright red spray-paint letters. He puts on sunglasses as he exits the car, and you’re extremely glad he doesn’t have fans swooning over him in front of his car because you don’t know how much more you can take. Who does he think he is?

Thankfully, the air conditioner seems to be working this time around because as soon as you enter through the front doors, a blast of cool air hits you in the face. It’s only January, but the sun outside doesn’t seem to be taking a break this week, so you’re grateful for the human wonder that is A/C. Yesterday’s empty halls are now filled with students, and already Yeonjun is dragging you off to introduce you to some new people. You’re just glad he has pink hair because otherwise, you would’ve lost him.

By the time you reach your first class, your mind is riddled with names of people you’ll probably never talk to again. You’ve met at least three Jaehyuns, a Yunjin and a Yujin and another Han Yujin, two Jisungs, and many more students you definitely won’t remember. If you were on your own, it would’ve taken you a whole year to talk to this many people, but with a semi-superstar by your side, it only took ten minutes. You’re just glad your presence seems to be well-received.

Your first class is math, and already you find yourself falling asleep. A stack of books finds its way onto your desk, a textbook for everything you could need, and you can foresee yourself sleeping in to skip this terrible class. The only good sight about this class is Mr. Kim, who’s nice and tries to be entertaining, but there are only so many ways you can make numbers and formulas fun. At least the girl sitting in front of you, Yunjin from earlier, helps you pass the time by doodling her number on the margins of your notebook.

Bored and half asleep, you trudge your way to your second class, history. You’re grateful your cousin helped you find your way across the school yesterday, because your class is across the school in a corner you wouldn’t have even known existed. Unlucky for you, Mrs. Jung isn’t as nice or entertaining as Mr. Kim, but just before you can succumb to slumber, the intercom buzzes.

The morning announcements play, but instead of Soobin’s voice, you hear someone unfamiliar.

“Hey everyone, happy Monday! It’s the beginning of the week, which means we have a long road ahead, but I believe in each and every one of you to get through it. We’re only a couple of weeks from break, which is an exciting thought to look forward to…”

You realize halfway through that the voice is Beomgyu’s, and you don’t know what it is about his voice, but it seems to be perfect for starting off the announcements. He seems to be tasked with maybe a desperate attempt to cheer up the student body on a dreary Monday, but they seem to be doing the job because you feel much lighter than before the announcements. Others seem to feel the same way too, because the atmosphere in the once stale, cornered history classroom is now bright and jolly. You honestly wish you had listened to the full script he had prepared, but either because of your previous fascination or his soft, honeylike voice, you find it hard not to be lulled to dreamland.

After, he's followed by Soobin, who talks about the daily updates and the weather, and you wonder how he manages to sound so upbeat and cheery this early in the morning. He then passes the mic to a boy named Taehyun, who voices important announcements and leads the school pledge before the mic crackles off.

You can’t stop thinking about Beomgyu for the rest of the class period, so when he slides into the empty seat next to you halfway through the lesson, you think you must be imagining things. It’s like he’s glowing, as if a dreamy filter spans across his face. You stare at him until he stares back and raises an eyebrow, a quirk to show his feelings of confusion. He throws a rolled-up piece of paper at you, and when you catch it, you realize he’s very much real.

Bit by bit, you unfold the paper, and in scratchy handwriting, he’s written ‘Am I that interesting?’ in all caps. Your face feels like it’s on fire, and you tuck the paper in between the crease of your notebook, filled with doodles of Beomgyu’s name. You quickly shut it, hoping he didn’t see it, and avoid his gaze for the rest of the period.

Unluckily for you, fate doesn’t seem to be on your side because as soon as the bell rings, Beomgyu is reaching out to grab your elbow. You think you’re utterly and absolutely fucked, and you’re even more mortified when he links elbows with you and leads you out of the classroom.

“What’s your next class?” he prods, and you only answer after he asks a second time because you’re too embarrassed to register anything.

“English, with Mr. Yoon. Look, I’m sorry about before, I thought I was dreaming—”

“Dreaming? Are you in love with me or something?” he asks, and even though the question is accusatory, his smooth voice makes it sound like music to your ears.

“No!” you exclaim, a little too loudly that you have to apologize to the teachers standing in the hallway before continuing, “Look, I was falling asleep in Mrs. Jung’s class, okay? Since the seat next to me was empty beforehand, I thought you were a random daydream that I was making up to distract myself. I genuinely didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my staring or anything, I just didn’t know you were real until you threw that ball at me.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” he responds, his features softening at your explanation, “her class is pretty boring anyway. You’re new here, right? Yeonjun’s cousin? I’m Beomgyu.”

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. You’re a little weird, you know that?” he remarks, laughing as he walks you to class.

You look down at your linked elbows and his goofy skipping. His observance is contradictory, but somehow, his weirdness is a little endearing to refute.

“Yeah, but you’re a little weird too. We cancel each other out, I guess.”

As soon as you step into the production room, you’re cast with the smell of mangoes. Seriously, those damned fruits seem to be following you, and you can never seem to escape them.

“Y/N! Hi! Welcome!” Soobin greets, ushering you into the room and grabbing you a seat, “We’re so happy to have you.”

It’s the next Thursday, a week after the dreaded daydream incident, and you’ve decided to show up to the broadcast meetings. You’ve been toying with the idea of joining ever since you walked into the room on Sunday, but it was Beomgyu’s insistence yesterday that really pushed you over the cliff of uncertainty.

“We have a lot of fun there. You don’t even have to speak on the morning announcements to be a part of it! We do much more than that, like run the newspaper and manage the yearbook. There’s a place for everyone, Y/N, you won’t regret joining.”

Even now, he waves warmly from the seat next to you. You’ve been talking frequently these days, partially because he’s in quite a few of your classes and partially because he’s part of a group chat Yeonjun added you to. He’s interesting to talk to and he always makes you laugh, and being around him makes you feel warm and fuzzy. Like your initial observance, he’s a little weird and goofy too, but it makes him all the more delightful.

You’re not crushing on him, of course. He’s a nice person to pass the time with during and after school. Besides, your friends at home are much better; he’s just a placeholder.

“Have some cake, Y/N!” Soobin insists, pushing a plate toward you, “It’s mango flavored!”

You smile hesitantly as you pick up the spoon and take a bite. It tastes good and you hate admitting it because mango is a good flavor; you just don’t like being reminded of the sentiment that comes along with it. You gaslight yourself into thinking it’s strawberry and finish the plate quickly, downing your water bottle straight after.

“Was it good?” Beomgyu asks, his voice a little hard to hear due to the conversations of next week’s script being tossed around behind him, “I got it from a bakery near my house. We actually have a snack at every club meeting, and this week was my turn to bring it.”

“Yeah, it was good. I’m just not really fond of mango,” you respond, already cringing at the words coming out of your mouth.

“You don’t like mango? Who doesn’t like mango?” Beomgyu voices, responding exactly how you expected him to.

“Me. I just don’t.”

Beomgyu drops the topic at your insistence and talks about the club instead, introducing you to some of the members. Taehyun, the boy from the announcements, is president, and Soobin is vice president. You learn that Beomgyu does a little bit of everything, and you try not to smile as he blushes when his friends list out his talents.

“Is Yeonjun not part of the club?” you ask after he’s introduced you to one of the many Jaehyuns part of the management team, “you guys seem to be good friends.”

“He was initially, but he has modeling lessons on Thursday so he can’t make it. He’s more like an honorary member, to be honest, but he helps us out a lot.”

You hum in agreement, meeting another Jaehyun (why are they all so attractive?) and rounding the corner to talk to Taehyun.

“I’ll leave you with Tae. He’ll help you figure out which team you’re best suited for.”

Taehyun pulls out a chair for you as Beomgyu walks away, and you can immediately see why he’s president. He’s a little reserved but he’s domineering, and he seems perfect for managing things behind and in front of the scenes.

“So, Y/N, did you have anything in mind when you were joining?”

“No, not really. I’m not very talkative though, and I don’t know how to handle a camera.”

“Yeah, Beomgyu also mentioned those things. I think you’ll be a good fit for the newspaper, based on first impression. Editors mostly work on the scripts and I think you’ll find it interesting. Come, I’ll introduce you to the head.”

He introduces you to Yunjin, the girl from your math class, and she helps you get the editing software and drive set up. Yunjin tells you that she’s the type of person who has a lot to say, and writing is a powerful outlet for her because it allows her to explore topics she’s passionate about. You don’t exactly know if you relate to her thought process, but it does make you feel a little excited.

“Is Beomgyu also part of the editing team?” you ask, mainly out of curiosity because you saw him revising the script on Sunday.

“Ah, kind of. He floats around between everything so I guess I could say that he is. Would you like to read some of his work?” she asks, pulling out a newspaper article from a stack in the corner, “Last issue, he wrote the front page spread dissing the school lunch menu. It might seem silly, but it was actually a huge hit, and honestly, the food has even gotten better since.”

You skim through the newspaper, and the interactive, colorful parts draw your gaze in. Elements like the pie chart, bolded words, and quotes make the article worth reading, and you can already tell from skimming the text that Beomgyu is a good writer. You flip through the rest, reading the story headlines and noting that some are serious, some are current, and some are merely just for entertainment. Even throughout the rest of the spreads, you can tell the writers put effort into making sure the newspaper is actually catered to the student population, and you can already imagine yourself publishing an issue of your own in the near future.

“Since you’re new, you can help Beomgyu out with his new piece. Let’s take things slow, okay?”

You nod, turning to face Beomgyu. You don’t know what’s going on in that fascinating mind of his, but you’re excited to find out.

It’s been a busy few weeks since you’ve moved here. Unfortunately, school doesn’t slow down time for you, so you’ve had to handle piles of schoolwork on top of adjusting to your new environment, at school, and at home. Your aunt, for one, is double the amount of hyper your parents were, and it’s taken you a while to get adjusted to her presence. At least you’ve had Yeonjun to help you out.

The one thing that you’ve actually looked forward to at school is the broadcast club. Taehyun was right about you fitting the editor role, and you’ve grown to fit in quite well with the other members. Mainly, however, you spend most of your time with Beomgyu, often looking over his shoulder and bouncing off ideas he has and grammatical errors he needs to fix. The issue is a little satirical, making it fun to read, and you’ve enjoyed helping him out because he actually values your input and your experiences.

It's the reason why he invited you to come to school on Sunday. He thought working in a quieter environment would help you two brainstorm better, and you agreed. You’ve been busy all week working on collecting student opinions for him, and today, he hopes you two can get a significant portion of the article complete.

Unlike the first Sunday you were here, the air conditioning is actually on now, but you still feel a little sweat prickling at the top of your forehead. You’re nervous because this is the first time you’ve actually been alone with Beomgyu, without anyone else nearby to mitigate your nerves. You’re scared about screwing up in front of him, or even worse, floating off into dreamland, but hopefully, you’ll be able to concentrate on your work and keep your thoughts at bay. If anything goes wrong, you can just blame it on his sweet voice.

You’re at least thankful Yeonjun hasn’t caught wind of how you two met, because he would never stop holding it over your head.

You knock three times on the blue door and Beomgyu pulls it open, wearing a bright grin on his face. He’s in a hoodie and sweats, a little bit more casual than his school attire, but somehow it just makes him more attractive. Combined with his dimples, he resembles a teddy bear, and you’re honestly surprised he hasn’t joined the modeling industry like your cousin. He’d make so much money as a loungewear model, you just know it.

“Hey, come in! I just got here, so I’ve been working on some scripts for the next week. You can get your stuff sorted while I finish.”

You nod, pulling the papers out of your bag and opening your laptop. Your mission for the week was to interview students regarding the article. You don’t know if he’ll like them, but hopefully, you’ve got some good anecdotes for Beomgyu to include in his writing.

Or, apparently not.

“Beomgyu.”

“Hmm?” he asks, looking up from his paper.

“I accidentally grabbed Yeonjun’s bag. I left the data at home, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe how stupid I am; how could I even forget something this important?”

“Hey, Y/N,”

“I just knew something was going to go wrong today, and I was so scared I was going to fuck things up and I did, and—”

“Y/N!”

You stop in your tracks, eyes wide and close to tears. You’re usually not this sensitive at all, but this means a lot to you, working with Beomgyu means a lot to you, and you don’t want to lose all of this over your stupidity and inattentiveness. However, Beomgyu looks far from angry, and he has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them to calm you down.

“It’s okay. You’re all good. We have so much more time until the deadline, so don’t beat yourself up, okay? We can just hang out and have fun. Look, I even brought you some mochi from the corner store!”

He shows you the packet, and the bright yellow color is enough to have you burst into tears.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, looking at the packet, “it’s mango flavored. Oh! You don’t like mango. I’m so sorry, it slipped my mind. Forgive me?”

You sniffle, bringing him into a hug. The mochi wrapper crinkles between you as you put your head on his shoulder, clutching onto him as a means to calm you down. Beomgyu stills for a moment, probably out of shock before patting your back, albeit awkwardly yet reassuring.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean to have a breakdown like that. I just didn’t want you to hate me. And I’ll eat the mango mochi, don’t worry.”

“I could never hate you, Y/N.”

“You’ve only known me for a couple of weeks; how could you say that?”

“Because even in the short time I’ve known you, I can tell how much of an amazing person you are. You’re bright and talented, and I love spending time with you, so stop apologizing, okay? It was just an accident.”

“Okay, I will,” you whisper, stepping back, “So, what now?”

“We could finish the mochi, for starters.”

You nod as you open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s tasty, so much so that you hate it, and you’re honestly five seconds away from letting go of your stupid grudge just to enjoy some fresh mango. However, your parents have plagued you enough with the fruit on their phone calls, which seems to hold your desires back well enough.

You stand to your feet as Beomgyu beckons you to follow him, wanting to show you something. He lets you in through the small door leading to the glass panel room, and you’re immediately illuminated by the huge screens around you. So much technology surrounds you, from microphones to switches to headphones, but you’re more intrigued by the feedback noise that emits once Beomgyu twists a knob, similar to the one you heard when you first got here.

“Does it usually make that noise when you turn it on?” you ask, walking around the room.

“Yeah, it’s a little bit annoying. That’s why we have to keep it turned on before school starts.”

“I figured. I heard it when I came here with Yeonjun before my first day.”

Beomgyu turns to you with an expression of mild surprise.

“I think Soobin and I were here that day. You should’ve visited us.”

“We did. We talked to Soobin, but you were working on something so we didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Is that why you thought I was in your daydream the day after?”

You feel like you’re on fire, and you look away from him. You didn’t expect Beomgyu to be this perceptive, but it was probably your fault for walking straight into this.

“Umm. Yeah, kind of. It’s embarrassing,” you say, covering your face with your palms.

“It’s not,” he responds, tapping your shoulder, “it’s actually kind of cute. Now that you’re in this room with me again, will I be in another one of your daydreams? I loved feeling like a celebrity.”

You mentally shrivel in humiliation, cringing when he lets out a laugh. If Yeonjun is a tease, then Beomgyu is most definitely a menace.

You are extremely close to falling asleep.

Currently, you’re sunbathing on one of Yunjin’s many beach chairs. They’re colorful and the sun shines ever so gently on your face, so the setting is perfect for you to take a nap. Too bad you’re at a pool party and not in your backyard, and Yunjin just might murder you if you drift off to dreamland after all the hard work you’d put into setting things up.

It’s spring break, which means one whole week of warm sun rays and well-needed rest. The newest issue of the magazine was published yesterday, and particularly this time around, it seemed to be quite popular amongst the student population. The group decided to throw a party to celebrate all the hard work that’s gone into publishing, and what other location would it be at than Yunjin’s gigantic mansion?

You’re particularly proud of Beomgyu’s hard work because his spread was absolutely stunning, but he merely brushed it off and thanked you for helping him when you thanked him earlier. He can be calm and graceful like that at times, like a soft breeze. Now, however, you turn to your side to see him sipping a mocktail on the chair next to you, donned in sunglasses and shark-decorated swim shorts, the farthest thing from serene.

“What flavor is that?” you ask, your voice tinged with sleep, “Actually, never mind. It’s probably mango.”

He laughs, and it’s so, so pretty. If you had to pick one sound to hear for the rest of your life, you’d take your chances on that.

“It is, but it’s kind of watery. I’m gonna save it for later though,” he starts, turning to face the pool and pointing at Taehyun.

“What about him?” you ask, craning your head to see him lounging in the pool with a duck floatie.

“If I cannonball into the pool, just how drenched do you think he’ll be?”

Your cries are practically unheard as you watch Beomgyu jump into the pool, absolutely obliterating not only Taehyun but also poor, unsuspecting Soobin next to him. Ten minutes later, after receiving a well-deserved scolding from Taehyun and issuing apologies, Beomgyu slogs his way back to the chair on your left with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That was definitely worth it.”

“It definitely was not,” you counter, sitting up and leaning against the back, “you’re literally such a nuisance. If I had known you were this terrible, I would not have become friends with you.”

“I mean, you technically didn’t choose. You can’t really help who you daydream about, right?”

You’re glaring daggers into him, but he’s cruel enough to still find the situation funny. You can’t believe he’s trying to hold back laughter even in this situation, but you probably shouldn’t have expected any better. Seriously, how did he go from the sweet-talker broadcast boy to the literal devil?

“Watch your words, or I will slice you up as I did to all the mangoes in Fruit Ninja last week.”

“Woah, chill,” he starts, putting his sunglasses back on and taking a sip of his watery mocktail, “why do you even hate mangoes? You talk about them as if they were your exes.”

“My parents left me here to start a mango business in Thailand,” you say, picking at the skin next to your thumbnail and wincing when it hurts.

Beomgyu spits out his drink in alarm, but you kind of saw it coming. You’ve noticed that he tends to exaggerate things a lot, but you guess it’s just part of his personality.

“Wow, that genuinely sucks. I’m really sorry; I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“It’s okay. I don’t tell people because it’s only temporary. I might not even be here next year.”

Two months ago, you would’ve been happy at the thought. Now, however, even mentioning it brings a pang of sadness to your chest. You’ve known your time here was momentary all along, so why do you feel guilty?

“Are you happy?” he says, his voice a lot quieter now, “I mean, would you want to stay here or go back?”

You want to tell him what you think is logical, and logically, your old home was much better than here. You practically grew up there, and the place suits you so well that you’re meant to be there. However, the words that rush out of your heart speak differently.

“I honestly don’t know. I like it here, but I like it there too. I’ll just enjoy my time here before I leave. I still have a while anyway.”

Beomgyu flips to the other side, away from your gaze before he speaks. If you weren’t listening carefully, you might’ve not been able to hear his words.

“I don’t want you to leave. I like it when you’re here.”

He sounds so soft and clingy that it almost makes you cry. Instantly, you know that no one has ever cared enough to share the same sentiment back at your old house.

Home. You should’ve called it home, but it doesn’t feel right anymore. You used to think that home was a physical feeling, a place where you were raised and nurtured. Home before was the walls of the building you spend the most time in, but now, it feels a little different.

No, home isn’t your old house. It isn’t your new house either, even if the beige has grown quite well to your liking. Home is sitting here on this beach chair, surrounded by your closest friends, and the feelings of warmth that surround you all. Home is an emotion, something you’ve never felt in the past years of your life until you moved here. Home is being surrounded by people who want you, just because you’re you and not because it would be convenient.

“I like being here too,” you whisper back, and although he has his back turned to you, you can still feel his smile.

“Then just tell your parents you want to stay here.”

You can’t tell him that your mindset has made you feel that this is all temporary. Ever since you moved here, you’ve felt like a ticking bomb, waiting for a single phone call to determine your fate. Once, you would’ve been able to answer that it’s where you belong. Now, you seem to question if it’s merely just an obligation.

“It’s not that simple, Beomgyu.”

He sighs, and as he turns back around to face you, you drape an arm over your eyes. You don’t want to feel the intensity of his glare, but even without your vision, you feel his eyes shooting daggers into your abdomen. If only life were as easy as being able to sense Beomgyu’s responses, for you would’ve been sipping margaritas on some island with your talents.

“Isn’t it? Or maybe, just maybe, you’re overcomplicating it.”

You sigh, unwilling to answer, and the conversation falls to a standstill. You hate thinking, especially about this, but eventually, Beomgyu’s words are going to catch up to you. Whatever the implications of this conversation are, you’re sure you won’t enjoy them.

Not one bit.

You’re walking home with Beomgyu a couple of days after break has ended, an unfamiliar scene for you. Usually, Yeonjun drives you home in his shiny car, but he had to stay back for some tutoring today and you were left ride-less. Thankfully, Beomgyu swooped in to save the day, saying he’d keep you company since he knew the route. You’d accepted quite freely, definitely because you didn’t want to rely on Google Maps and not because you liked spending time with him.

Spring is in full season, which means the walk home is filled with greenery and a lush breeze. You feel like something out of a Studio Ghibli movie, but as you turn to look at Beomgyu, you realize he’s more aptly fitted for the scenario.

His hair is fluttering slightly through the wind, and his side profile is so perfect that only an animation artist could’ve crafted it. Beautiful is the only word to describe him, and each glance you take becomes increasingly hard to look away from.

You like him. It’s not a realization that’s come from this moment, but rather a million moments beforehand. Whenever you try to pinpoint an exact moment, your mind runs blank, as if you were pre-programmed to have him in your heart since the beginning of your existence. You’d just been so immersed in convincing yourself that you didn’t that you never really accepted you did.

“Y/N,” you hear from his lips, “are you going to the spring dance?”

The spring dance is next week, and it’s all everyone has been talking about lately, especially Yunjin. Honestly, if the Jung Jaehyun asked you out (yes, you can finally differentiate between the multiple Jaehyuns), you wouldn’t shut up about it either, but you don’t have any interest in it otherwise. The only updates you hear are when you don’t tone out Yunjin in math (there’s only so much you can hear about his features), and you’re growing quite sick of the talk.

Mainly though, you’re just annoyed you have to go without a date. A certain someone always pops up in your mind when you think about the event, but you’re too shy to ask and he seems to be preoccupied with other things. Even if it’s going just as friends, you’d take the chance, but it doesn’t seem in your cards for the near future.

“Yeonjun is forcing me to. I’d much rather spend my Friday nights with a show, but it is what it is.”

“Oh, come on!” he protests, shaking his head, “it’s always super fun. You won’t regret coming.”

“I guess, but I don’t really know who to go with. Yeonjun has a date, and I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

Beomgyu fishes something out of his pockets and holds it out to you. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a rectangular mango drink, and you raise an eyebrow.

“I know, I know, but it’s still driving me crazy that you hate mango. I want to be the person that changes your opinion on it, okay? Whenever you think of mango, don’t think of your parents, think of me!”

You roll your eyes as you grab the drink and punch the straw in. You don’t want to admit it, but the gesture is sweet, and already your negative thinking is rewriting itself to include positive memories with Beomgyu.

“Whatever,” you say, attempting to take a sip out of the straw only to find it stuck, “is there something wrong with your straw? Mine isn’t working.”

“No, there isn’t,” he replies, confusion settling across his face, “is it blocked? There might be something inside.”

Sure enough, you peek through the hole to see something white stuck in the straw, and you try your hardest to pull it out with your fingers. The texture is a little rough and thin, almost paper-like, but sadly you fail to get it out.

“Can you actually not get it out?” he asks, looking worried.

“Yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll just get another straw after I get home.”

“This cannot be happening right now.” he mutters, grabbing it from you and trying his hardest to squeeze out the object, “Of course I fucked this up.”

“Beomgyu, it’s okay. Relax. It’s not that big of a deal,” you respond, trying to calm him down after seeing him get this worked up, “it’s just a drink.”

“But it’s not! Ugh,” he says, frustrated as he pulls out his phone, “you were supposed to be able to pull out the paper.”

“What are you talking about?”

He passes over his phone to you, and there’s a picture of a small piece of paper on it. When you zoom in to get a better look at the writing on it, you gasp.

“It takes two to mango, so will you be my partner?” you read out loud, looking at Beomgyu.

He smiles awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re asking me to be your date for the dance? Oh my god, yes!”

You hug him tightly, pressing your head into the crook of his shoulder. You don’t know if his intentions behind this are friendly or romantic, but the mere thought of being together, even just for a night, has you reeling. You feel so, so giddy as if you’re already on the dance floor and swaying in his arms.

You feel him sigh in relief, hugging you back.

“I’m so sorry I fucked up everything. It was supposed to be super cute—”

“Don’t worry about it. Even if you just asked me the question, I would’ve been happy. It was so creative though; how’d you come up with it?”

“I, um. I searched it up,” he replies, and you hear the bashfulness in his voice, “I just wanted it to be meaningful enough to us. I know that it’s unoriginal, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Even just you researching to find something this creative is meaningful to me.” you answer honestly, “I’m saving that straw forever, I swear.”

He laughs, and you feel his chest vibrate against you. It’s a comforting feeling, one you’ll hopefully experience at the dance next week.

“I’m so excited. I can’t wait,” he whispers, pulling you in a little tighter.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, holding onto him, “Me too.”

The dance is a little lame, but being here with Beomgyu makes it worthwhile.

Seriously, if you’d come alone, you probably would’ve ended up sitting in the corner and munching on the brownies (they’re actually tasty, you can’t even deny it). However, Beomgyu has made it his personal mission for you to have fun, which is why he pulls you onto the dance floor to vibe with the beat of the song.

“This is so high school,” you mutter, feigning annoyance, “what song even is this?”

“I think it’s ‘Good Boy Gone Bad’ by TXT.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“Who cares? Stop being a downer and let loose a little.”

Contrary to your dislike, you do end up dancing. The song has a peppy beat and the two of you lose yourself in it, but even as you forget all of what occupies your brain, Beomgyu still remains in your head.

You’ll never forget the sparkling expression on his face when he saw your outfit as he picked you up from your house or the way he turned up your favorite song as you sped along to the venue. You would pay a million dollars just to relive that moment again, laughing at each other’s singing and enjoying each other’s company, but you realize that you don’t need to experience past moments with Beomgyu when he constantly makes better memories with you. With Beomgyu, you like living in the present, and he makes you forget about special days in the past you had coined as ‘the best day ever’ because nothing could compare to the feeling of being by his side like this.

The song ends, leaving you all woozy and excited, but the feelings quickly shift away when a much slower beat starts playing. You don’t even have to ask for the song name, because Beomgyu is already whispering it into your ear.

“’Fairy of Shampoo’ by the same artist. They’re pretty good, right?”

You move to nod, but the action is long forgotten as Beomgyu wraps his arms around your waist. He’s staring you in the eyes, a silent request for permission, and your response is wrapping your arms around his neck in a similar manner. You sway, and Beomgyu follows your lead, but this time around, the only thing you’re losing yourself in is his eyes.

The soft, angelic singing and chatter around you are muffled as if everyone in the room has disappeared except you and Beomgyu. You’re in a trance, with the perfect feeling of his arms around you as if they were always meant to be there. It’s so easy to will yourself away from everything to focus his gaze that you should be concerned, but one look at his eyes can confirm he’s in the same boat.

Maybe friends can ask each other out to dances. Maybe friends can slow-dance together. However, you find it hard to believe friends can look each other like this in the eyes and pretend they don’t feel anything.

Before you know it, the air grows hazy, and the only thing that makes your vision clearer is leaning in closer to Beomgyu. Or maybe that’s what’s making you crazy in the first place, but you don’t care because you’re trapped in the magnetic pull he emits that drives you closer, and closer, and closer. You’re close enough to notice the small moles on his cheek and the faint cologne he wears that smells like jasmine. You can’t even tell if you’re moving anymore because the only action you’re focused on is the fluttering of his eyelashes and the pursing of his lips.

It takes your brain a while to register what he says next because his voice is husky enough to be covered by the music, but the mere fact that his voice dropped three octaves has your mind spinning.

“Do you want this as badly as I do?”

Your throat is so parched you can’t even speak, but you don’t need words to imply what you want. You nod, the tiniest nod that if he wasn’t so focused, he wouldn’t have seen it, but his eyes are solely on you and that’s enough confirmation for him. The last thing you see is him leaning dangerously close before your eyes flutter shut, but the moment is ruined as your phone rings from your pocket and startles you both.

You fumble with the device as he clears his throat, leaning back, and with wide eyes, you see that it’s your mother calling. You’re cursing her mentally for calling at the worst possible time, but one look at Beomgyu has him motioning you off the dance floor.

“Take it; it’s probably important. I’ll be right here.”

You smile tightly before rushing off the dance floor, finding a place near the entrance that’s much quieter than the center. From this position, you have a straight view of Beomgyu in the middle, but you’re blocked by a sea of people surrounding him. It reminds you just how many obstacles you have between each other, and you mentally berate yourself for being so careless and almost kissing him before answering the phone.

“Hello? Mom?”

“Oh honey, hi! Your Auntie told me you were at some school dance, are you having fun?”

“I am,” you whisper back, just now realizing how much you miss your parents sending you off to these dances, “but I miss you a lot.”

“Actually, I called you about that!”

“What do you mean?”

“Our business here is doing so well that another company wants to buy us and give us a huge amount of shares. This means we can move back home and still make a profit!”

Your mom goes on about the logistics, but all you hear is white noise ringing through your ears. You knew this moment would creep up on you, but you just didn’t expect it so suddenly, especially after sharing such an intimate moment with Beomgyu. God, Beomgyu. How can you even begin to tell him?

“Mom, I have to go.”

“Of course, you must be busy! I’ll call you later, okay?”

Your fingers shake as you cut the call, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. The room feels hazy once again, but this time, it feels suffocating. Your cheeks feel hot and you have no idea what to do, and all you can feel is Beomgyu’s gaze staring at you from across the room, boring into your eyes. All you can think is that he knows, and he hates you, and he’s going to feel so betrayed—

“Y/N? Are you okay?” you hear, and Yeonjun steps in front of you, blocking the connection between you and your crush.

“I- I need to go home. Please.”

You’re glad Yeonjun knows when to not be a nuisance, because all he does is nod wordlessly and clasp your palm, leading you to the car. You’re thankful that your cousin is actually a nice person deep down because he’s ditching his date and dropping his many it-boy moments just to take you home and let you cry on his shoulder. You try so, so hard not to look back because you know you’ll break down, but you can’t help what your heart wants. As you turn and make eye contact with Beomgyu, you see his confused and betrayed expression as he pushes past the people on the dance floor, but the crowd is too large, and he’s stuck between the masses. It’s bitter how these people once reminded you of obstacles, and now they’re exactly that, but you’re thankful because you’re sure you won’t be able to stop the tears if he talks to you right now.

As Yeonjun whisks you away in the dreary night, all you can hope is that Beomgyu remembers only the good moments between you, and not the worst. Maybe one day, just one, you hope he’ll forgive you, even though you know that you’ll never forgive yourself.

You have no heart to even attempt the history homework sitting on your desk.

It’s only been a week, but you feel like you went through five years of trauma from it alone. If it weren’t for Yeonjun, you would’ve locked yourself in your room the whole week and finished a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you showed up to class every day, draped in an oversized hoodie and making no means of eye contact with anyone. Any time you encountered Beomgyu, you tried your hardest to avoid it, even going as far as bargaining with your teacher to switch seats in history.

The only person you even talked to this week was your cousin. He was the only person you could confide in, probably because he was the only one who truly understood your current predicament. It’s silly, depending so much on the person who could use this as blackmail at any moment, but you have to say you’re a little grateful for him dragging you to school in the morning instead of leaving you to allow in the four walls of your bedroom.

However, even the motivation from Yeonjun can’t stop your bleeding heart. You feel like you’re going through hell and back, and with exams coming up your mind just isn’t in the right place. How long are you going to keep your homework sheets sitting on your table void of pencil markings? Even the mere act of reading the instructions has you tired, and all you can do is rest your head against the table and try not to let your thoughts drift off.

Even this homework reminds you of him. It reminds you of how you would goof off during your lectures, texting each other through the crevices of your desk, or how you would sit for long hours in the library and attempt to study, kicking each other’s feet beneath the table. Even now, you can hear him knocking on the door, asking you to open up and talk.

“Y/N, it’s Beomgyu!”

Okay, maybe that part isn’t your imagination.

Why is he even here? What business would he even want with you after you’ve wronged him so much? Your mind has no idea, but the only thing you’re listening to is your heart as you pull open the door and take in his presence.

He looks beautiful, like always. His existence is something that you want to cuddle into a ball and put in your pocket, yours to keep and cherish forever because he is simply the word soft personified. Today, however, he sports dark circles under his eyes and a paler shade of skin. What has made your teddy bear so sad? Is it your doing?

“Hi,” you whisper, and your hands itch to reach out and wrap him in a tight hug.

“Yeonjun told me what happened. I wanted to give you some space, but it’s torture without you.”

Now you’re confused. Why is he showing up at your door and giving you comfort? Isn’t he the one who has been wronged this whole time?

“You mean, you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be? It’s not your fault you need to move back. Sure, I’m sad about it, but this isn’t something you can control, right?”

Now, nothing stops you or your conscience as you wrap your arms around him, furrowing into his familiar scent as tears escape your eyes. You’ve done a lot of hugging recently, but this time, it feels like an eternity has gone by. You never want to let go of him or this moment, and you can even feel your mind memorizing every aspect of this moment.

You guess Beomgyu makes you feel that way. Mind and heart combined, with no conflict.

“You always know what to say,” you point out, sniffling.

“I’d hope so; I have to do it every Monday.”

You laugh, although it’s choked and dry from your crying, but as your head moves, you hear a crinkle from his back pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, um,” he starts, grabbing the object out of his pocket, “they’re mango popsicles. I was going to try and bargain with you if this didn’t work out.”

“Hmm, well, I’m not really convinced yet,” you joke, motioning him to follow you and sit on your bed as he rolls his eyes.

Silence ensues for the next couple of seconds as you both open the wrappers and enjoy the delicacy. The flavor doesn’t even bother you anymore, because now when you think of mango, you think of Beomgyu. You think of his sweetness, his humor, and his bright sunshine personality that matches the color of the delightful fruit.

“Oh, Y/N, you have some juice dripping down your chin,” Beomgyu notices, pointing to the area.

“Where, here?” you ask, patting the left side and feeling its dryness, “or a little higher?”

“No, I- here,” he says, leaning closer with his thumb and brushing off the liquid.

You want to thank him, but as you look up into his eyes, you realize how imperceptibly close you two are. Suddenly, you’re thrust back to a week ago when you were in his arms, leaning into each other until you could feel his breath upon yours, but this time, there’s nothing stopping you. No phone, no crowd, and most importantly, no insecurities come between you two now, and your mind is clear as you lean in and latch your lips upon his.

If you were unsure of what mango meant to you before, you’re definitely sure it will remind you of Beomgyu now, because all you can taste is the mango on his lips. It’s like your mind has gone into overdrive as you move closer, and you can vaguely register him using his free hand to palm the back of your head and tilt it up. The atmosphere doesn’t feel hazy anymore; instead, it feels shy and awkward, as if you were two lovers learning the world together. Like everything with Beomgyu, it feels right, just so right, and you never want to leave because you are his wholeheartedly, and he is yours.

Until you register what’s happening, of course.

You pull away quickly, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Beomgyu’s lips are puffy, and you’re sure yours must mimic a similar appearance, but that’s the least of your worries.

“Beomgyu, I—”

“I love you,” he breathes out, and his voice is light and airy as if he can’t hold in the words anymore, “I love you so much that it kills me you’re leaving. I don’t know how to fix this pain, but what I can say is that I’ll try my hardest to be by your side. Every day I’ve spent with you has been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, and being without you this past week has made me realize how much light will disappear from my life if you leave. I’ll take you in any way you’ll let me, even if it’s through late-night calls or sparse texts. Please be mine, please.”

He's begging you now, holding your hands within his and clutching tightly, but even the words you want to say are trapped in your throat. You can’t do it to him. You can’t force him to love you thousands of miles away and look forward to you when he has a whole future ahead of him. You may be burdened by the ghosts of your past, but he isn’t, and you can’t deprive him of the one thing that makes himself him: his sunshine.

“I’m so sorry Beomgyu. I can’t put you in that position.”

Even the tears that once hesitated to fall now escape freely as he nods, cradling your cheek. After all that’s happened, he’s still so understanding, and even though he has a tight smile on his face, he keeps on a brave front for you.

“I knew you would say that. It’s okay, we can just enjoy the last of our days together.”

“Don’t hold yourself back for me, alright?” you whisper, wiping the stray tears that you don’t want him to see.

He notices the tear stains on your cheeks anyway, wiping the wetness with the pads of his thumbs. You notice he doesn’t respond, but at this point, he doesn’t need to. Even though you’ve warned him against it, you know without a doubt that he’ll always be waiting for you, even with all your uncertainty.

The last bell of the year rings, but as your classmates bustle around you with joy and laughter, you don’t know what to feel.

Moving is a funny concept. You leave behind everything you know just to start anew, but unlike most people, you’ve finally gotten the chance to go back to the past. Your old friends, your old family, your old life. Months ago, you would’ve jumped for this opportunity, as many others would in your situation, but now you’re experiencing a bittersweet emotion. You can’t even deny it: this place has had a tremendous impact on you through the experiences it put you through, the people it made you meet, and the emotions it caused you to feel. Even just thinking about going away leaves a pang in your heart, but you suppose life is about these occurrences, whether they’re sad or happy, and you’ll just have to persevere through it like you always do.

You’re walking out to the parking lot when Beomgyu joins you. You’ve still been talking even after the dreaded incident weeks ago, especially since you studied together for exams, but your relationship since you rejected him hasn’t been the same. It’s like you’re tiptoeing around with each other, waiting for one another to break, but you’ve already broken before so you don’t know why it feels so fragile. Maybe it’s the tension in the air around your departure or the lack of definition within your relationship, but either way, it feels suffocating.

At least you’re grateful he hasn’t shut you out yet.

“So, how was your last day of school?” you hear, but this time you focus your eyes on the ground instead.

It feels too weird to look at him. It’s like you don’t have permission to admire his beauty anymore, so you rarely ever make eye contact with him. Instead, you focus on the gum he’s chewing, the one you know is mango-flavored but always so bitter. Maybe it was a sign you two were never meant to be.

“It was good. You know, tiring as always, but I’m glad it’s over.”

“Yeah, I get it. Are you going back home soon?”

Honestly, your parents haven’t been super transparent with you, but from their calls, you assume that you still have well into the summer before you move out. They sound busy wrapping up things, and they haven’t given you an exact date, but they have promised you they’ll be here soon. Like all things in your life, even your parting is uncertain, and that’s what you tell him.

“So, what I hear is that I can still terrorize you over the summer.”

You laugh, but it’s forced and uneasy. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but honestly, you’ve gotten a little too used to it by now.

“I guess you could, Gyu.”

He stops you in your tracks by stepping in front of you.

“Look, I know we’re a little awkward right now, but I feel like I have to say this, or I’ll never get the chance. I’m so honored to have been your friend, and I’m going to miss you a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I’m sorry for putting you in so many awkward situations, but I hope you can remember the good parts when you think of me.”

You sigh, patting his head. If you were on good terms with him, you would’ve gifted him a hug, but you hope the small gesture can do your feelings enough justice.

“I’m gonna miss you too. A lot a lot,” you mimic, watching him smile, “so text me often, okay? I’m sorry for making things awkward too.”

He shakes his head, willing to argue in your favor, but before he can even start a car horn sounds from the parking lot. You crane your head to see a familiar vehicle, one that’s accompanied you throughout your lifetime, except this time, it’s adorned with a painted mango on the side.

“Mom? Dad?”

Your parents step out of the car, and your legs are moving you towards them before you can even register it. Video calls don’t do their beautiful faces any justice, and it feels so surreal as you stop in front of them, waiting for them to just be a figment of your imagination.

“Hey, sweetie,” your dad says, and that’s all it takes before you’re leaning into his touch, burrowing yourself into him as you would often do when you were a little kid.

You forgot how much pain you felt when they left you here. All this time, you’ve suppressed it, and only at night when you were in your room, half-asleep and overthinking, did you let your tears come to bay. You wanted to be strong for them because everything they did was for you, but it was hard not to lose sight of their eventual return and get lost in the lifeless emotions associated with their disappearance every waking day that passed. It took every ounce of strength in you to pick yourself up every day and pretend like you were fine, but although there were many factors that helped you mitigate those feelings, none of them could truly ever make the ache ebb away.

“Why are you here? I thought it would be a while,” you ask after you’ve calmed down and properly reunited with them, “are we moving back soon?”

“Actually, about that… we’ve changed our minds a little bit.”

Your mom holds your face in her palms, pinching at the skin on your cheek ever so slightly.

“Your aunt told us how happy you are here, and how you’ve grown so much from moving here. I know that losing your parents so suddenly must’ve had a huge impact on you, but if this place helped you with those struggles even just a little bit, then it must be worth staying here. We thought that you might like it if we stayed here permanently. What do you think?”

You can’t believe it. It’s as if the world has deafened and all you can hear is the ringing echoing through your ears because what they’re saying sounds too good to be true. Moving here? Permanently? Is life playing some sort of cruel joke on you?

“You aren’t joking, right?” you whisper, and all your parents can do is laugh as they shake their heads.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes as you die, but right now, all that flashes through your eyes are the memories you’ve made in your seemingly short time here. You remember sitting shotgun in Yeonjun’s car as he annoyed you on the way to school, texting Yunjin during math while you two try not to fall asleep, and teaming up with Taehyun while wreaking havoc on poor Soobin.

However, most importantly, you remember Beomgyu. From the curve of his lips to the rings on his fingers, from the walks home you’ve shared to your first and last kiss in your very bedroom, he’s always been with you wholeheartedly. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since that very first day when the boy with dark curls caught your watercolor eyes, and for the foreseeable future, you don’t think you’ll be able to stop.

When you turn to look back at him, he’s there. He’s always there, waiting for you no matter how far you go. Even if he is just a speckle in the distance, just the size of an atom, you are his nucleus and he revolves around you, chasing you until he breaks down into a black hole of nothing. Even now, as you stare at him from the parking lot, one look at you tells him everything he needs to know. He’s here, here before your eyes in a matter of seconds, and as your parents ask him who he is, you know that only the most perfect boy would respond with such a beautiful answer as he directly addresses you.

“I’m whoever you want me to be.”

You shake your head, unable to hide the smile that flits across your face. After a long, long time of shying away from Beomgyu, you’re finally ready to embrace the feelings he brings you, whether tears or smile lines.

“This is Beomgyu, my lover.”

Your bedroom is still bare with your whole life packed into boxes once again, but at least this time around, your walls are painted yellow again. However, instead of a sunny yellow, they’re more of a mango color, your mom going even as far as to say it’s the exact same hue as the mangoes they grew in Thailand, fresh and ripe. Honestly, you’re just glad you’re not sitting within the depressing beige color again, because why did you even convince yourself it made you happy?

What’s not fresh is the old carpet you and your boyfriend are sitting on, but sometimes you can appreciate the old things too. In fact, it’s somewhat comfortable as you lie in his arms, sprawled across the carpet with no looming future dangling over your head. It’s just you, your other half, and nothing more, enjoying your well-deserved summer break weeks after school has ended.

“I’m not ready for school,” you complain, liking the feeling of being illuminated by the bright sun peeking through your blinds, “I like sitting around doing nothing. Imagine how hectic it would’ve been if I actually moved back.”

Your statement is only half-true though, because there are many things awaiting you once school starts that you’re actually very excited for. For starters, you get to have your own article published in the newspaper, and you have a slight inkling as to what it’s going to be about. Also, you have many wonderful friends who will make your life a lot easier, so even though school is school, at least you’ll have amazing people by your side. Really, you’re just complaining for no reason.

“I’m just glad we won’t have to throw you a farewell party. I don’t think Taehyun or Soobin would’ve let me near Yunjin’s pool again.”

You smack his chest lightly, and he laughs, curling in closer to lay your head against his chest. You really should be unpacking your things, at least, that’s what you told your parents you’d be doing, but you can’t pass up the chance to cuddle with Beomgyu every time you get it. You both have been pining for each other for far too long anyway, so why waste any more time?

“Y/N!” you hear from outside the door, “I brought you food!”

You get up to let your mom in, but Beomgyu is already five steps ahead of you. Your mom gives him a warm smile because seemingly, your parents seem more smitten with him than you are. You can’t really blame them though; who doesn’t like Choi Beomgyu?

“Thank you for the mango, auntie!” he responds, and of course, the endearment has her reeling.

“I thought you two would be hungry after working hard,” she says, leaning over to peek through the gap between him and the door, “but it seems you two have done nothing at all. Oh well, you can eat it anyway. You have all the time in the world.”

You two really do, because as you make yourselves cozy on the carpet once more, bowls of mango in hand, it feels like time has taken a pause after all the misery it has put you through. You eat the slices wholeheartedly as you think, with Beomgyu brushing off the juice that escapes your mouth occasionally when the piece is too big. You’re glad that time is moving slowly because you want to savor every moment you have with him. He deserves it, and so do you.

“We should really start setting things up,” Beomgyu starts, “How long are you going to sleep with just four yellow walls and no decoration? That would be so depressing.”

“Hey, at least it’s less depressing than beige walls,” you grumble, “but even just being here makes me content enough to fall asleep. I have nothing to worry about this time around, especially when you’re just five minutes or a phone call away.”

Mere seconds pass before he’s leaning in to place a kiss on your lips, and of course, everything about him tastes extremely mango. Your malice for the fruit is far gone now, far, far gone because not only are your parents back, but also because Beomgyu is the only thing you think about when reminded of the flavor. However, your rollercoaster feelings for the fruit are the last thing on your mind as you lean in closer, placing the mango bowl beside you.

“You still hate mango, baby?” he whispers between kisses, and it takes everything in you to pull him back, reminding him that you two are supposed to be unpacking and not making out.

“Answer the question,” he whines, a cute little pout on his face that makes you five seconds away from forgetting your very own warning and kissing him breathless again.

“No, I don’t,” you finally answer, grabbing his hand and interlacing it with yours, “I love it now.”

He grins, and you decide to succumb to your desires, forgetting all sense of rationality when it comes to him as you press a kiss to his lips again.

“I love mango just as much as I love you.”

185 notes · View notes

nishiriki · 27 days

Text

ᯓ ꩜ thought of you

s you crocheted your crush, riki, a ducky ₊ ⊹ g fluff wc 500+

note - y’all i’m low key cooking…LMAO but you knowwww i had to write for my ult bias (idk y it took this long but i digress) also, i would recommend listening to for lovers by lamp since that’s what initially inspired me to write this. feedback is always welcomed just be kind! enjoy :3

you don’t know when it started. hell you don’t even know how. you’ve only known riki since the start of this school year yet it feels like you’ve known eachother forever, at least on your part. you adored everything about him. his boxy smile, his mole on his chin, his sweet personality, and his pink, plump lips.

y’all were in art class working on the painting that was due by the end of the week (well he was working on it atleast) you couldn’t help but just admire him. he had a slight pout as he was focusing on perfecting his sketch.

“y’know, you kinda resemble a duck” he looked over and smiled at you softly “i get that a lot” you chuckled and continued to admire him. “y/n, you’re not going to get anything done by gawking at me the whole period” he joked teasingly. you turned towards your painting but not without faking an annoyed eye roll.

ᯓ ꩜

[10:01pm] your eyes scanned the time. sadly, sleep was the last thing on your mind at the moment. all you could think about was riki. he’s literally everything you could ever want. any thought of him always had you giggling into your pillows. that’s when you got an idea. you decided that you would make him a cute little ducky plushie. i mean why not? your not tired anyways, and it’s a good way to kill time. so without any second thoughts you rushed to your yarn and hooks and got to work.

ᯓ ꩜

what if he doesn’t like it? what if he makes fun of me? omg is the leg crooked?! countless thoughts were rushing through your head as you slowly but surely made your way to riki’s locker. you don’t know why you were so scared of him making fun of you when he is literally the sweetest soul you’ve ever came across. “you got this girl. just be neutral.” you mumbled to yourself before finally walking up to him.

“hi y/n” he greeted you with a warm smile “uh..hi riki”

smooth. you thought to yourself. “is there something you need?” now or never y/n, just do it. “i made you a duck plushie!” you said quickly while shoving the plushie in his hands. stunned, he looked at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

“i love it, thank you n/n. i’ve never received anything like this before.” your jaw nearly touched the ground hearing that. how has nobody ever thought to give this lovely person anything? “you’re welcome! i was just thinking of you last night and decided to-“ i’m going to cry. of course you’d slip up and confess that you were thinking of him. he probably thinks your crazy now. but to your surprise he just giggled and said “i’m glad to know that the prettiest girl ever thinks of me just as much as i think of her” not knowing what to say next you rush out an “ill see you in painting!” and ran away. where you dreaming or did nishimura riki, the boy you’ve been crushing on all year, just admit to thinking of you as well? AND HE CALLED YOU PRETTY!! not just pretty, the PRETTIEST GIRL EVER. just the thought made you squeal and blush.

76 notes · View notes

just-another-fanfiction-writer · 7 months

Text

The fear of losing you | Sebastian Sallow x fem!Reader | Oneshot

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You came down with a nasty cold, draining you of all energy and Sebastian wasn't one to let you run around with that for too long. Especially since your state reminds him so much of someone else.

Warnings: angsty, but mostly fluffy, very scared little boy, mentions of injury/death, birth

Hello there! ❤️️

This lovely audio made by @legacygirlingreen inspired me to write this little fic! It's so cute and angsty, I just had to. Please do check her out!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!❤️️

~Mia

“Where’s MC?”

The brunette looked at his blonde friend concerned, knowing he’s none the wiser. By this time usually you would’ve shown up to stuff your face with some breakfast pancakes or porridge, having this cute satisfied smile as soon as you were full.

It was a tradition at this point.

Sebastian was usually the one coming in late into the Great Hall with his best friend. Meanwhile Ominis would be groaning that they again have so little time to get breakfast, because Sebastian just had to read the full chapter of his newest novel the night before and barely got out of bed in the morning. But when his deep brown eyes would scan the large room, he’d always find you in a heartbeat, smiling at him so sweetly. And after he would sit down and start eating himself, you’d always get distracted by the people sitting next to you, conversing happily, which would always be the perfect opportunity to stare at you, which of course Sebastian always used every single morning. And at the end, when everyone was full and supposed to get moving to their classes, you’d look at him again and by gods…the blush on your face, when he smiled at you or he even dared to wink at you. You clearly had no idea how it made him putty in your hands.

But today…no warm “good morning” smile, no unashamed staring, no blush.

“I don’t know. Maybe she had a late night and decided to sleep in and get food later,” Ominis said.

Sebastian let out a grunt, brows furrowing as he tried to think of a reason for you not showing up, already painting the worst cases of you being stuck in a cave, surrounded by enemies, or bleeding out somewhere, your lifeless body at the bottom of the Black Lake - no, he should stop assuming such terrible things, making every heartbeat and breath painful.

The students started to hurry through the large doors towards their classes, so Ominis and Sebastian got up, too.

When he looked to the masses pushing through the doors, he saw a figure standing there, looking towards the tables filled with all kinds of foods. It was you!

And Merlin…you looked awful!

Your face was so pale, the bags under your eyes so deep and visible, your hair not as shiny and soft as it usually was and overall you looked so weak.

His heart clenched and he felt himself worry so much in that moment. But he noticed your tired yet hungry expression, so just a second before the whole food vanished to the kitchens below, he quickly grabbed as many pancakes as he could with one hand.

Walking over to you, you noticed him, trying to give him a smile, but it was so weak. He was about to comment on your appearance, but bit his tongue, not wanting to put his foot in.

“Hey, MC. I’ve managed to grab you some pancakes. I hope you don’t mind my filthy hands,” he laughed a bit awkwardly, holding the food to you. But you simply took it with a grateful little smile.

“Ah, thank you, Sebastian. I overslept.”

You and Sebastian trailed behind Ominis and the brunette couldn’t help but look at you, worry still written all over his face.

“Are you alright, MC? You look a little…”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I just caught a little cold, I’ll be fine.”

Sebastian wasn’t completely convinced, but it was a good sign that you seemed to have an appetite, devouring the pancakes in no time. He would have to trust you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep an eye out for you.

Unfortunately today you barely had any classes together and whenever he saw you rushing to the next class, it seemed you looked weaker and more tired. Especially when so many students again asked for your help with something so ridiculously irrelevant, but you couldn’t say no to even one of them, having a heart that was way too good for this world.

Finally after classes had finished for the day, he caught you running up the stairs in the Astronomy Wing, but every step seemed to be more of a struggle until you finally stopped, pressing your hand against the wall and breathing heavily, a few coughs escaping your lungs.

Quickly Sebastian caught up to you, wrapping his arm around you protectively, as you looked like you were about to fall.

“MC! Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about me,” you tried to brush it off, trying to take another step without Sebastian’s support, but you failed.

“You clearly aren’t. Come on, let me help you.”

Before you could protest, you felt his arm slither behind the back of your knees and the other over your shoulders and with ease he lifted you up, carrying you up the stairs, your arms flinging around his neck, afraid of falling.

“I got you, MC. You’re not going to fall.”

~~~

When you looked at the Slytherin, you wondered if you saw a hint of a smile on his lips, enjoying the closeness of carrying you like this. But you couldn’t be sure, your mind was way too hazy with this damned cold you must’ve caught, exploring one too many cold and dark caves in search for an ancient artifact this old lady was searching for. A family heirloom she told you.

“Where should I bring you to? Your dorm?”

His voice was so soft and warm…yes, he was warm. His chest radiated so much heat to you, and you just wanted to get closer and closer, wrapping yourself in that cozy warmth.

“No, no. You remember my room? The door is closeby. I wanted to go there anyway.”

“Okay,” he nodded, walking straight to the empty wall across the dancing troll tapestry, the door quickly appearing in front of you and he stepped right on through, obviously still a little impressed by the sheer grandness of the room.

“You can let me down now,” you said, pushing against his chest, trying to keep at least some independence in your current state. And maybe because you couldn’t even hear yourself think with the way your heart was beating, being so close to your year-long crush.

It was quite embarrassing to be completely honest, you thought, harboring these feelings for him way too long by now and not being able to just confess. But somehow, whenever you found the courage to tell him, every word of the English language just escaped your brain, when he smiled down to you, waiting expectantly for you to say what important thing you had to tell him. At least you always managed to come up with something else, avoiding the embarrassment of babbling absolute nonsense to him and possibly being rejected. After all, you didn’t want to make things awkward between the two of you; besides, you couldn't even entertain the thought of having a chance.

To even think of it!

Ridiculous!

~~~

Sebastian slowly set you down, though his heart protested loudly, wanting to keep you close…only to make sure, you’re okay, obviously.

You got to your feet and started to make your way towards your many brewing stations. Honestly, who in their right mind needed seven…seven brewing stations with three pots each. And it wasn’t even that just one of them was in use, but all of the spaces had liquids bubbling in cauldrons hovering over a small fire.

The moment your hand reached for the armrest of the large couch to stabilize yourself and you started coughing, Sebastian was quick to hold you again, stopping you from taking a step further.

“Why don’t you lay down right here on the couch and I’ll bring you whatever you need. How does that sound?”

He was happy you didn’t fight the idea like the stubborn person you often were and instead sat down. Sebastian carefully lifted your feet onto the couch, pulling a blanket over you and bringing two of the small pillows from the armchairs behind him to your head, making sure you’d be lying down comfortably. He didn’t mean to (or did he), but his hand brushed over your hair in a comforting way, like he often did with Anne. But you seemed to like it, closing your eyes and relaxing into it, until another coughing fit erupted from you.

Quickly he looked around your room, ignoring the terrible clench of his heart, and instead finding your gardening pots. He knew that the leaves of one of your plants always helped Anne to lessen the urge to cough, so he ripped it off its stem and gave it to you, instructing you to chew it.

“It won’t taste nice, but it should help.”

His hand found its way back to your head, gently stroking it, fingers brushing through your hair and he smiled slightly, when the effect of the leaf took hold. You groaned, obviously hating to feel so helpless and weak. Sebastian knew how awful it felt, but he was just glad to be there for you. To take care of you. For once he could help.

~~~

With a hoarse voice, you called out his name.

“Sebastian? Could you get me my bag? It’s somewhere over there.”

You pointed to the place where you remembered throwing your bag, before rushing to bed in your dorm and luckily Sebastian quickly found it.

“There must be a vial with blue liquid inside.”

He roamed through it, mumbling how there was way too much random stuff inside it, but grabbed the vial and handed it to you, kneeling next to the couch. With one big swig, you downed its contents and were surprised it actually tasted quite decent.

“What did you just drink?”

“This is supposed to be a remedy for all kinds of sickness that a good friend of mine, a vendor near the shore, gifted me. I should be back to health after a good rest.”

A shaky, yet relieved sigh escaped Sebastian lips and you saw his whole body relax a little more. Was he so on edge because of you?

“Good, good. Then I should probably leave you to get some sleep.”

The boy stood up and for some reason you panicked.

“No!”

You were met by a confused look and you couldn’t help the blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I mean…could you maybe stay? Just for a little while?”

By Gods, you sounded so pathetic, but you didn’t want him to leave.

And to your surprise he sat down on the edge of the couch, smiling and nodding.

“Sure, if you want me here, I’ll stay.”

He placed a hand on your arm and gently ran it up and down. Maybe…just maybe…you could push for a little bit more.

“Do you mind laying down next to me?”

You shifted towards the backrest, creating enough space for Sebastian to lie down and for a moment you thought you ruined it, not being able to read the expression on his face, but then he did lie down. He scooted close to you, carefully…almost shyly wrapping his arms around you, but with you guiding his arm, he seemed to grow a little more confident, pulling you close enough so your head was resting against his chest. You didn’t know what was more distracting…the way his legs were slowly intertwining with yours or how his heart hammered against his chest so loudly. But before you could decide, a wave of drowsiness washed over you, lulling you into a deep sleep.

When you awoke, you felt way better. The constant buzzing headache had vanished, the burning in your lungs was gone too and you felt way more ready to face whatever the day brought with it. Though the very cozy warmth you found yourself cocooned in and this musky scent that surrounded you, smelling like home, made you want to stay like this forever. But when you heard soft sniffles, breaking the steady and relaxing rhythm of breathing, you got concerned, moving away to look at the boy still cuddling you.

“Sebastian?”

His deep brown eyes found yours and you almost felt your heart crack, when you noticed the anxiety in them, tears brimming at the edges. Your hand quickly found his cheek, hoping to bring him some comfort.

“What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

You seemed to have caught him off-guard, his mind coming back to reality after clearly having drifted off to some dark places.

“I-I don’t know…” His voice was shaky and unsure, his hands that still held onto you shivering a little, grabbing the fabric of your clothes a little tighter.

“I…I’m just glad you’re okay again. Seeing you ill…so weak and aching…it reminded me of Anne.”

He struggled more and more with every other word, his breathing becoming more shallow and you saw his Adam's apple helplessly bobbing to take care of the dryness in his mouth.

It pained you to see him like this.

You kept on stroking his cheek, your fingers occasionally brushing away the curls from his face, feeling your heart clench more and more.

“I don’t want to lose you, MC. I just…I can’t lose you.”

The tears in his eyes started spilling and quickly you pulled him close, pressing his face to your chest and brushing through his hair, trying to comfort him as best as you could.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m alright. You won’t lose me. You’ll never lose me.”

It just broke your heart feeling him tremble so much in your arms, but at least you seemed to calm him down a little. Yet, you didn’t expect to hear the next few words, muffled against your collar bone.

“I love you, MC. Please don’t leave me.”

Time stood still and a thousand thoughts rushed through your head, rendering you damn near speechless, but at last you were able to open your mouth and say the only words that were important right now.

“I promise, I’ll never leave you, Sebastian. I love you, too.”

~~~

You screamed in pain. Everything seemed to hurt and Sebastian could only watch. He was about to lose his mind, the screams only reminding him of his dear twin sister. But then you pulled on his hand, yanking him out of this trance and his eyes found yours.

“Sebastian, I am okay. I need you here with me right now. I know you are scared and you can worry about this, when it’s over, but right now I need you. Please.”

“Of course, love. I’m sorry. I am with you.”

He quickly kneeled down next to your bed, holding your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles.

“You are so strong, love. You’re so very strong. I love you so much.”

He placed a hand on your head, kissing your sweaty forehead. His other hand kept securely holding yours and before he knew it, you were squeezing it tightly, screaming out in pain again, doing your very best. And only a couple of moments later, another kind of scream erupted and relief washed over him, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

The nurse came around to you and handed you the small red-faced creature. You were crying too, tears of pure happiness rolling down your cheeks as you cradled the little one close to your chest for the first time.

“Sebastian, look at our baby.”

He quickly brushed away his tears and sat down next to you, moving the baby blanket gently to the side to get a better view.

And there she was.

His beautiful and healthy daughter.

Lucky wasn’t even the right term to describe what Sebastian was feeling at that very moment, but he just smiled from ear to ear, welcoming this little bundle of joy to the world and then kissing his beautiful and healthy wife.

“You did so well, MC. I love you so very much.”

“I love you, too, Sebastian.”

#sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow angst #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x fem!reader #hogwarts game #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #justanotherfanfictionwriter #justanotherfanfictionwritermasterlist

226 notes · View notes

catgirlforeskin · 2 years

Text

The new CoD campaign might be the most racist game I’ve ever seen. While Modern Warfare (2019) often felt like a barrage of cynical attempts at generating controversy through shock value moments to the point where the entire experience was numb, Modern Warfare 2 (2022) feels like it was spawned directly from the collective unconscious of every uncle you avoid at thanksgiving because he watches 7 hours of Fox News a day and can’t shut up about it, and it genuinely worries me the effect it’s gonna have

Some highlights include

The game opening with you doing a missile strike on an Iranian general who’s an obvious stand-in for Soleimani. The game portrays this unlawful assassination as an unambiguous good, and the only characters who talk about it as an international crime for which the US military needs to be held accountable are “terrorists” we’re supposed to dismiss

The main plot following this is that, in revenge for that assassination, some other Iranian general is going to get smuggled over the Mexico-US border by some cartel with a missile of his own to strike at the suburbs or whatever.

To give the game the tiniest amount of credit, a character does say that this idea is stupid and that terrorists don’t cross over the Mexico-US border, but that’s why the antagonist is doing it, because it’s unexpected or whatever. The whole thing is really fucking stupid

In one mission you play as two Mexican special forces dudes who try to stop the guy from crossing into the US. The mission opens with border patrol harassing migrants that the antagonist used as a “decoy” so he could cross somewhere else.

You then chase him into the US and go through a town harassing civilians in their homes and asking them where the guy went. You’re prompted to “right click to de-escalate!” which makes you point your gun and threaten them. Most of these people are Mexican immigrants.

Towards the end of the mission you get stopped by American local cops who are threatening you and being racist, but then they get blown up by a rocket launcher right after and it never gets addressed again.

Later you get sent into Mexico with an American private military contractor because they have “less red tape” with unlawful killings, this is shown to be a good thing though.

The game treats Mexico as a Mad Max wasteland where cartels control everything. It handwrings about how awful it is that the military and police are corrupt there and that the cartels target children with their propaganda and let them have guns, and the game of course has zero sense of self-awareness about this.

The two “good guy” Mexican special forces you work with are part of a squad called “The Vaqueros” which feels on par with Overwatch having every Japanese character be a ninja.

You kill hundreds of soldiers in the Mexican Army, just like the normal one, but the game says it’s ok because they were probably all secretly part of the cartels. You then use the pmc gunship to kill hundreds more while destroying towns and farms in the process. It’s never remarked on besides “wow cool explosions, team!”

You finally capture the other Iranian general but have to let him go because of international laws, which are shown to be bad and just slow the good guys down

The quotes that play when you die aren’t anti-war now, they’re either explicitly nationalist crap, are quotes FROM CALL OF DUTY, or are generally inspirational quotes.

And I’m only HALFWAY through the game, and I didn’t even mention everything!

The game isn’t co-op but I’ve been playing through it with my wife in call (she’s generally the one more into CoD), and the one positive thing she had to say is that the Spanish is generally good and sounds like they actually got people who regularly speak Spanish to write and voice act, like they use slang that her dad and her family in Mexico uses and whatnot.

#call of duty

914 notes · View notes

laufeysodinson · 2 years

Text

Simps and Riddles

Pairing: Chris Evans x Actress!Reader

Rating: G

Warning/s: none??? too much fluff?? too cheesy?

Summary: reader is asked the question, “how did you know chris was the one?”

A/n: i read after i do by taylor jenkins reid and was inspired. i haven’t written in a year, please be kind! 🥹🫶🏼 also not proofread!

also!!!!! inspired by @astranva’s pe universe but is not related in any way to her series. the pe universe has inspired me to write and get in touch with the creative part of my brain once again. thank you for sharing your brilliant ideas and writing with us! 🥺💖

“i know in this film your character is in love and married to someone whom she instantly thought to be her other half… now i know you don’t usually answer questions like this, but i’m taking my chances. so….” the interviewer smiled and put her hands together.

“you’re married to chris evans. how did you know he was the one? what moment made you think, ‘this is it. this is the man i’m going to marry’?” you were never one to talk about your personal life during interviews. but just this once, you figured you’d humor them because you were tired and bored of the same questions you’d answered repeatedly. as if it was another script you’d memorized for a film.

“well it wasn’t like in the movies where one thing happens and then you have this profound realization or some sort of epiphany… it was a collection—i guess a supercut.” you laughed, thinking about how cliché it could be to use this term related to movies as a metaphor.

looking at a spot next to the interviewer, thinking deeply you continued, “there was him saying ‘what can i do? how can i help?’ there was him sending a text that said ‘this made me think of you.’”

you looked back at her, seeing her listening intently with a small smile on her face. you chuckled, remembering a moment which you were sure the entirety of the internet also knew. “and—and there was the time when he was trimming dodger’s fur and accidentally shaved a bald spot on the side of his body. he sent me the picture with a message that just said ‘i think i did something wrong. send help’ and i could remember looking at it and laughing so hard.”

of course there were the more intimate moments—ones which you’d like to keep just to yourself and hold onto so tightly with the memories in your hands. these were the quiet nights where you both couldn’t sleep and end up in the kitchen at 2 in the morning to eat taco bell leftovers from the other night just for your stomachs to regret it a few hours later.

times when you’d both be reading a book in the living room, seated on opposite ends of the sofa with your legs right next to each other and asking him, “if you woke up one day and i turned into a worm, would you still love me?” he’d look up from siddharta—reading it for the thousandth time—smile at you with a twinkle in his eye and say, “of course, honey.” then his head would tilt to the side, “would you still love me if i turned into a worm?” you would smirk and say, “ew. no.” he’d tackle you and put you over his shoulder with his other hand tickling your side, you squealing “fine! i would—i still would! chris!”

realizing that you’re getting lost in your thoughts, you snapped back into the present. breathing out you said, “these moments are what made it all click together like a riddle i’ve been trying so hard to figure out my whole life.”

“and it doesn’t stop there. i think everyday there are still moments that add onto this supercut in my head. there are still moments that solidify or kind of—i don’t know… like… emphasize this thought in my head that says ‘hey! this is the one, dude!’”

another core memory popped into your mind, your hand about to go to your belly but remembering that the world doesn’t know and you’re not ready to share the most special one just yet.

you shrugged and smiled sheepishly, “sorry for rambling! i hope that made sense.”

“no i absolutely loved your answer!” the interviewer gushed—no doubt more than glad about the insider scoop she received from you that others didn’t.

once the interview aired, it went absolutely viral. everyone in your family and friends (both from yours and chris’ side) teased you about it, not used to you getting really personal during interviews. sending screenshots of headlines that say “who knew y/n would be a simp for chris evans?” to group chats where you and chris were both in.

fans on twitter going absolutely wild, with tweets that became a topic of conversation between you and chris during breakfast or when you’d both walk dodger together.

@/cevansfan: i want them to adopt me PLS

@y/nchris: THEY BETTER END UP TOGETHER FOREVER

@y/nforlife: wow what a great day to lie down on the highway 🥰

and a few months later, you were finally ready to share one special moment from your supercut with the world.

chrisevans

Liked by imsebastianstan and others

chrisevans The answer to all riddles✔️

Worm❓

Love of my life✔️

Wife✔️

And just a few weeks ago… Baby mama✔️

What else could I ask for? 💙 @/yourusername

View all 54,637 comments

octaviaspencer I cannot wait to see you guys soon!!!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

y/nchris WAS THAT IN REFERENC ETO Y/N’S INTERVIEW A few mONTHs AGO I’M CRYinG

scottevansgram Feels like yesterday when you were my father in a play 😂😂😂 now I get to see you as an actual dad. Love you guys!!!

pic by henrygolding on ig! i love him and liv and their little baby so much ❤️

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x actress!reader #I HAVEN’T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN SO LONG

1K notes · View notes

pearlywritings · 2 years

Text

They got it from you

synopsis: envious nobles are at it again, ruining your day with their venomous remarks and making you doubt certain things. What a relief that your family is always ready to make it feel better.

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader, feat your sons

tw: hurt/comfort, bullying, established relationship, fluff, tiny mention of pregnancy

word count: 6.9k+ words

author’s note: @sleep-deprivedracoon you can call me a liar. I know I said I was not going to continue A child of our own anyhow, but here I am, making a whole family AU (yes, here is a separate masterlist for it)

Biggest thanks to @lunargrapejuice who shared my brainrot and gave me an inspiration to write it 💛

Life couldn’t be better. Honestly! You have everything and then some more that fills your every moment with happiness - you have an amazing husband, who is your lover, your support, your dear friend and the person who looks at you like you hold the whole universe in your hands (and you do, whenever you cradle Diluc’s face in your palms). You have two amazing sons - four-year-old twins, sweet and active, polite and respectful, happy and playful, though sometimes borderline mischievous - but they are kids! That is to be expected. You found home in the manor of the winery, where every single member of staff came to love you dearly, always smiling and sounding fondly whenever ‘My Lady’ or ‘Madame’ leaves their lips both in your presence and absence. You have great friends - your close circle of old ones and the ones you befriended after stepping into your now-husband’s circle, the best possible addition being his brother’s family. His wife and daughter adore you and the feeling is wholeheartedly mutual. People of Mondstadt always loved you, but now they love you even more and are always excited to see the whole Ragnvindr family of four members in the city.

Sadly, not all people.

Sure, there is nothing wrong in someone not liking you and not approaching you as a couple of others would. After all, it’s impossible to be loved by everyone, there is no such person in the whole Teyvat. It’s a completely different thing when someone openly despises you.

While Mondstadt is a city of freedom and all people are declared to be equal, there are descendants from the noble families that centuries ago used to be glorified, respected and ruling. Of course, many do not pay attention to it, but there are some that continue exalting the pureness of their blood and going around puffing their chests like some arrogant roosters. To them the likes like you are a thorn in the side. It’s their daughters, cousins, younger sisters, or whoever else, who were deserving of marrying the young master of the Rangvindr bloodline, not… not you!

They blamed late Master Crepus for not being sagacious to establish an arranged marriage contract with any of these families before dying, that way you would’ve never been given the chance to even think of being in his eyesight!

But you not only dared to be there, you became the center of it. They don’t know how could they miss years you two spent dating, but the next moment they knew - you two were happily married. And that’s after all of their attempts to set him up with one of their young female members of the family!

They detest you, they hate your guts, froth at the mouth every single time there is at least the tiniest hint of your shared happiness and affection. Venom fills their words, but they do not dare to utter them in Diluc’s presence of course not. They target you when you are alone.

They already caused you much distress five years ago, when all your mind could do was worrying about the topic of kids. Back then Diluc did make it clear - if anyone has balls to verbally attack his wife, they are welcome to visit the Angel’s Share, where he’ll have a very nice chat with them.

Insults stopped and you could finally breathe freely, concentrating on carrying your child (at that time you had no idea it was going to be two) and then raising up the twins - beautiful brilliant redheads, that quickly became the talk of the town. People adore them, smile and greet them whenever both parents or one of you brings them to the city, give them free treats, rope you or Diluc in any kind of conversation, and admire your pretty babies. There were more times than you can count when Kaeya appeared unexpectedly and stole (saved) you from the never-ending chitchats.

You think that at last, everything is magnificent - Diluc heeds you and really makes attempts to dedicate time to not only you and children but himself too, he takes his walls down even more, now struggling less when discussing with you something that keeps him restless; Rufus and Lucas - your sons - are healthy and content, being nothing but joy to both you and your husband, and everything else is pretty much the same, and that’s really enough for you.

Until a couple of months ago nobles started to express their hatred again.

At first it was very very subtle, and if it was a bystander, they would’ve never guessed the real meaning behind small comments. But very soon it became very clear, but still pretty much bearable.

“Look, it’s this woman again.”

“Ah, yes, her. A greedy gold digger.”

“I don’t understand what our Master Diluc found in her. My cousin is so much prettier!”

“I don’t know about your cousin, but my sweet daughter Lily would’ve looked so much better at his side.”

“Yes, dear, you are right, our daughter would’ve made a much better match for Mr Ragnvindr. If only he gave her a chance at that teaparty…”

And something alike. Statements like this didn’t bother you at all. You know Diluc knows you love him dearly and fondly and care little to how loaded he is (you do handle his budget sometimes, but even then you do not have any inappropriate thoughts, no matter how many times your boyfriend and then husband tried to spoil you). You also know Diluc loves you and wouldn’t dream of marrying anyone else - he makes it very clear with words and more often - actions. And you also know they are just envious of your happiness and blame you for, how do they say “stealing what could never belong to you from them”. You do not treat your husband as an object, maybe that’s why he never looked at your families, you, imbeciles.

However they are determined in their attempts to get under your skin and they resume to the topic that worked before - your children. They used to talk you down for being a bad wife for not giving Master Diluc heirs sooner, such a remarkable and great bloodline must’ve been restored in their opinion. Well, you do have children now, so it won’t work twice.

Now, there are offhandedly thrown comments about how much young Ragnvindrs resemble their father. Yes, yes, gorgeous thick red little manes, just like their father’s, beautiful ruby eyes - surely inherited from their father, their delicate noses and overall face features - one look and you could easily guess their father in them!

Too bad they look nothing like their mother.

Suddenly, to them you even lost your identity as a person. Now you're just a ’Master Diluc’s kids’ mother’. Not your name, not even your family name. Just a function, making it sound like it’s the only thing you can do, contribute to this marriage.

Today was the final straw to your composure. Someone - possibly one of the minions - was brave (and foolish, if you ask me) enough to state you are not even their mother. Your pregnant stomach? Pff, totally fake, just a pillow under your dress. They know the woman - the real mother of Master Diluc’s children - who the owner of Dawn Winery asked to bear his offspring because his wife was just a failure.

You didn’t acknowledge them - the whole group that gathered around the speaker and was snickering and sending dirty glances your way. You, calmly and gracefully, continued your path, smiling and joyfully chatting with vendors on the street, as if those obvious lies weren’t gnawing on your insides and infiltrating your thoughts.

Oh, but it did hurt.

And it hurts still, when you hop off the wagon - one of the winery workers was ready to head back and happily offered a ride home as you were exiting the city gates. Your heart is so heavy and eyes strain from unshed tears - you really didn’t want to worry the sweet elder man, who was so kind to his Lady, and it gets more and more difficult to keep yourself together as you approach the front doors of the manor. Workers and maids greet and wave at you and you try really hard to wave back and give each and every one at least a couple of phrases to have a small talk and show how much you care - because you truly do.

At last, the doors are closed behind you and your back is pressed against them, a shaky exhale leaving your dried mouth. That was surely an exhausting trip - while the conversation with the talkative employee and observing such familiar landscapes served as a distraction, all kinds of thoughts never stopped swirling inside your mind. With eyes closed your brain starts creating images of their twisted expressions and nasty laughter, mocking you for something that is obvious nonsense. Ah, people really can be cruel, but you will be fine. You need just a moment to dispose of these emotions and worries.

Tapping of small feet makes you aware you are not yet in private to let yourself go and you make an effort to push through it for a little bit more, opening your eyes and lovingly staring at two boys running down the stairs, closely followed by your head maid.

“Mama! Mama!” you crouch down and catch them in an embrace, letting out a small grunt when their bodies bump into you at full speed. Two pairs of arms quickly wrap around your neck and each cheek is loudly smooched. A smile appears on your lips and for a moment you forget about your pain and a reason for your sadness, giving each boy a kiss on their noses, to which they erupt in giggles.

“Hello, my little fireflies. How have you been?”

“Good!”

“But we missed you and papa!”

“Oh, but Addie read us a story!”

You glance at Adelinde and the woman only smiles, watching the sight in front of her with a soft emerald gaze.

“Did she? Was it interesting?”

“Yes!”

“Not really…”

You laugh at the pouty expression of the younger twin, guessing it was the older who chose the story this time.

“I am sure the next one will be to your liking, my dear. Right, Adelinde?”

But before she can answer you, the boys unwrap their arms around your neck and instead grab your hands - Rufus has both of his little palms wrapped around your wrist, while Lucas holds just onto your fingers with one hand, the other pointing to the back exit.

“Mom, we don’t wanna read! Come and play with us!”

“Pleaaaaase!”

Going…outside?

As much as you want to give in and let them lead you out to have fun, you understand the desperate need to be alone for some time. Even though everything doesn’t come back crushing onto you all at once, you know it can and desire to prevent such escalation wins.

Your face must’ve fallen, because the twins definitely notice.

“Mama..? Is something wrong..?”

“Do you not… want to play with us?”

You can see that the other woman in the hall is ready to rush and help you, but you can handle it, they are your children, no matter how bitter it sounds in your wounded thoughts right now, and you are their mother, you are the one to bring them comfort.

“Oh, no, no, no, babies. Mama wants to play with you. But,” you stand up from your crouched position carefully, not to rip your hands out of their hold accidentally, “I am very tired right now… I will be very happy to play with you later, after dinner… If my boys don’t mind,” just as carefully you slide your wrist and fingers free and reach to pat the tops of their fluffy heads. Your sons exchange quick glances. You swear, they have some invisible connection between them, as if they can communicate via reading each other’s minds, and it makes you smile a little. The agreement is reached when they look back at you and, though a little bit pouty, nod.

“Of course, mama. We understand, and we will wait for after dinner!”

You can’t help yourself and not poke their round cheeks, effortlessly making them let out the air held there. Boys giggle again, rubbing at the poked spots and jumping a step back to avoid more teasing to come. Straightening up, you give them a small smile.

“Thank you, Rufus, thank you, Lucas. Mama really appreciates it and loves you.”

“We love you too, mama!” The declaration is exclaimed in unison and that’s what plucks the strings of your heart and makes you even more emotional. You make an unspoken vow to yourself, you’ll shower these redheads in so much affection when you feel better.

Twins’ crimson eyes follow your figure slowly walking up the stairs and all the way to the bedroom where you hide behind a heavy door. Something is not right, they can sense it. You rarely call them by their full names, unless they are in trouble, or you speak to someone else about them. The lack of ‘Ru’ and ‘Lu’ spoken in your sweet voice makes them question your behavior. Besides, you looked very gloomy - they are used to seeing something similar on their dad’s face, but not on yours.

So their heads whip into Adelinde’s direction and a second later they are already standing in front of her, craning their necks to look up.

“Addie, is mama sad?”

“Why is she sad?”

“Something happened?”

“Can we help?”

“Will papa be sad too?”

“Yes, papa is always sad, if mama is sad… It’s bad if they are sad!”

“Yes, it’s bad! We wanna help!”

The head maid bends down to tuck some stray locks behind their ears and to gently cup their cheeks, which always effectively makes them fall silent. The woman finds it extremely sweet how willing to make it better these two angels are. But, she is afraid, there is nothing they can do at the moment. Their Lady is known to lighten up everyone else’s mood with her presence - cheerful and kind, the stormy clouds hang above her head very rarely, and there is always a very specific and unpleasant reason behind it. There ought to be some kind of an issue, hard to resolve and that hurt you a good amount, if the pained look in your eyes and your rueful steps were any indicator.

“Listen, boys,” she starts in a smooth voice, making sure every word of hers reaches them and sinks in, “your mother is really tired. Sometimes being tired can cause you feeling upset - low energy and overworking do feel bad. Right now she needs to rest, to regain her strength back, so she can play and spend more time with you, and believe me, she doesn't want anything as much as this. As for your father… I am sure he will be fine. If he doesn’t join us soon I will go and talk to your mother, okay?”

“And…you will tell us everything?” Rufus looks at her hopefully and she gently smiles, caressing his cheek with her thumb.

“Of course. You two will be the first ones to know. And I will tell you right away if your mother asks for you to come pay her company.”

Boys know that Addie never lies, so for now, they are satisfied with her answer, even though they really really want to run right to their parents’ bedroom, crawl onto the bed and cuddle with you. Your warm cuddles always helped them feel better, surely it can work the other way around, right?

But their train of thoughts is interrupted by Adelinde who takes their hands and straightens up.

“So, young masters, what would you like to do meanwhile?” the twins exchange glances again, and then Rufus looks back at her.

“I want another story!”

“But I choose!” the younger tugs the woman’s hand and his brother huffs. Mom and dad say to always share though, and, besides, Lucas’s choices are to his liking sometimes.

“Alright, you choose,” he says instead and his brother beams with happiness. The head maid only chuckles and takes them back to their room, so Lucas could pick another book from the shelf and she - read it to them.

Almost half of an hour passes when Diluc finally opens the door of his study and takes a look outside. The second floor is empty and, upon walking to the varnished wooden railing and glancing down, he notices just a couple of maids dusting around the first floor. How strange, he thinks, combing his fingers through fiery bangs. He can swear he saw you out of the window quite some time ago. Usually, if he’s home and busy you always stop by to greet him and either have a small conversation if he has some time, or just give each other a kiss if he can’t let his attention stray too far from calculations and planning.

Today, however, you didn’t. The twins could be at fault - they have an ability to easily drag any of you into games and other activities, and it is borderline impossible to resist them. Adelinde always teases him, saying that as a child it was the same and his father had a very hard time telling his son ‘no’, but Diluc wholeheartedly believes that these charms they got from you.

Floorboards make no sound as he is making his way to the twins’ room. Twisting the knob the man can indistinctly hear Adelinde’s voice, muffled by the wood, soon becoming clear as the door opens. He sees the maid sitting on a chair, pulled in front of one of the beds, and holding a fairytale book, which she lowers, turning her head in his direction. The boys - Lucas lying on his stomach and swinging legs and Rufus, sitting closely and hugging his knee - immediately perk up when they hear the door open and, while expecting to see their mother, still feel very excited to see the other parent.

“Papa!” the door clicks shut behind him and Diluc moves further into the room. He greets Adelinde and immediately motions for her to not stand up - she is a servant, but a close friend, he doesn’t need any physical display to know she is loyal and respects him.

“Hello, my little flames,” he sits on the edge of the bed and instantly Rufus climbs in his lap, soon followed by his brother. Boys hug him and kiss his cheeks, letting their weight rest in their father’s strong muscular arms - two small bodies are like two feathers for the man who’s overcome years of training and hardships.

Adelinde closes the book and fondly observes the scene in front of her. It brings distant memories of many years ago, when she was just a young maid, who had just recently started working for the Ragnvindr family. Crepus was a good man and he nurtured and cherished his son and then two. He too used to hold a boy in each arm and carry them around like that when they were still young. Those were such good times and she is so glad they are back so many years after. And all thanks to you.

"Papa?" The voice of the younger twin brings Adelinde back from her thoughts. Her young masters finished giving their dad an overview of their day and now are snuggling to his body.

"Yes, Lu?" The man hums, closely observing both boys. Something isn't right. All of a sudden they both became quiet and something seems to be concerning them.

"Mama is sad," Lucas takes a hold of a thick lock of his father's hair and starts braiding it - or at least imitating something similar, twisting the smaller parts of the strand into something very poorly resembling a proper braid.

"Mama is what?" Though he is asking his son, the eyes are directed to Adelinde, who only shrugs her shoulders in unawareness.

"Mama is sad," eventually repeats Rufus, staring at the ruby brooch on Diluc's cravat, which plays in the light magically. "She came home, said she'll play with us after dinner, and went to your room. But she looked like you when you return home sometimes."

To Diluc that was similar to 'when he returns home looking distraught after a failed mission or nuisance that was ruining his whole day'. This is not good.

"Are you sad too?" Lucas is quick to ask, glancing at his face, abandoning attempts to make dad's hair pretty. A small smile appears on the man's usually neutral face and he shakes his head.

"I am not sad, baby. Do not worry, I promise I'll make mama feel better."

"Can we help?" Again said in unison and from the corner of his eye he sees Adelinde trying to hide her wide grin. He understands her though, his kids are adorable and very compassionate. And this they learned from you.

"Not now, loves. I need to talk to her first, and then we'll do it together. She will be really happy to see you, but a little bit later, I promise.”

“But we want to do something!” Rufus crosses his small arms and Lucas is quick to mirror his brother, nodding his head, making the strands of his bangs bounce.

“Yes! Mama always helps us, we wanna help her too!”

Looking at their pouty but determined faces Diluc feels disarmed - there is no length in this world he is not willing to go for his children, but at the same time he understands that your situation must be delicate and should be handled accordingly.

“If I may, I have a suggestion,” all three glance at Adelinde and she puts the book aside. “Lady promised to play with you outside after dinner, right?” the boys nod. “Then why don’t we organize a picnic! It will be both dinner and the funtime and you get to spend it outdoors. I can cook and you can help me. I am sure it’ll cheer your mother up!”

Diluc sighs in relief. Archons, his father was the smartest person to put this amazing woman in a position she’s been holding for two or so decades now. Not to mention, she raised him and Kaeya in a way, so she is irreplaceable in handling two boys at the same time when first-time parents still struggle.

Boys seem to really like the idea, uncrossing their arms and grabbing onto their dad’s shoulders to climb off of him.

“We are gonna help!”

Adelinde stands up and puts the chair in its original place. Diluc remains sitting for a moment, catching Lucas and settling him back down with the boy's back facing him.

“Daaaad!”

“Wait a little bit, Lu, your ponytail is loose,” Lucas doesn’t have any other choice but to watch Rufus show him his tongue and shake his own little mane of flaming hair proudly - the older twin prefers to wear them down. His glee is short-lived though, as Adelinde bends down and starts combing through his wild locks as well.

“We don’t need any hair in food, so let’s tie a ponytail too.”

“But Aaaaddie!”

“No ‘but’s, right, Master?”

Diluc hums, tying black ribbon in Lucas’s hair. Now, as the two stand side by side, it would’ve been hard to tell who is who, if they wore similar clothes. Though, even with different clothes and different hairstyles, they are still constantly confused, which the twins are always happy to use in their favor.

“Addie, come, come! The picnic!”

“Alright, alright, let’s go. We’ll see you soon, Master.”

And by ‘you’ she means both the husband and the wife.

Three careful but steady knocks against the heavy wood of the only barrier that separates him and his own personal paradise of your shared bedroom, the only obstacle that is keeping him away from you.

"My love? Can I come in?"

He strains his ears to hear any sound from the inside - shuffling of blankets, thudding of feet against the floor, rattling of curtain clamps as the thick fabric is moved to reveal the window - anything that would tell him of your state. But there is no such sound. The only thing Diluc hears is your rasped 'come in!' and then you clearing your throat.

Your husband doesn't need to be told twice, and a moment later he pushes the door closed behind him. Ruby eyes take in the room to estimate the severity of your condition. He notices the blankets in a heap on the bed and pillows rearranged - this must've been your improvised shelter for releasing your emotions, abandoned when the purpose was served. He notices the clothes you left in this morning on a chair, - you, most likely, didn't have much energy to hang it in the drawer after changing, and he doesn't blame you for it. Then his focus is on the window, something that has been teasing his peripheral vision. It is not obscured by the drapes and is, in fact, opened ajar, filling the bedroom with warm soft light, enough to not lit the candles just yet. And then, basking in this sunlight, your figure is seated on the armchair, hair just slightly swaying in a small breeze, creating an ethereal image together with the halo of sun rays

You watch as the love of your life loosens his cravat a little and takes a deep breath, before finding his way in front of you. He towers above you, but you do not feel intimidated, looking at him from your sitting position and offering him a meek smile.

“I am sorry I didn’t come to greet you as always… Didn’t want to worry you much, but it seems I did in the end,” a small chuckle and a soft hum when his hand gently cups your cheek, thumb caressing the skin where dried tear streaks were easy to make out in the light.

“Please, don’t apologize,” his voice is deep and soothing and makes your wearied heart flutter. “If you needed a moment for yourself I respect your decision.”

Oh, Celestia must love you. Diluc has his flaws, admittedly (and who doesn’t?), but he makes sure that in your relationship respect and trust are never forgotten, and you greatly appreciate it. Gazing into his eyes, warm as a fireplace on a cold night, fills you with serenity and tranquility, making the photo album in your hands feel less heavy.

Finally Diluc notices it and then a couple more on a windowsill nearby. Seems like you’ve been relishing in some memories and now, when his worries have been a little bit subdued, he is curious.

"Love, stand up for me?"

Nodding, you swiftly lift yourself and take a small step aside, just enough for him to slide into the plush armchair and bring you in his lap. A blissful sigh leaves your chest when you feel the heat of your husband’s body. One arm securely wraps around your waist and you tuck your head under his chin, feeling the other hand resting on your knees right under the book of captured moments of your life.

A comfortable silence settles between you two for a while. You keep turning the pages, eyes traveling over the colorful pictures, and Diluc just holds you, rubbing absent-minded circles on your hip with his thumb and looking in the album over your head.

Diluc gives you a little bit more time and only when you sigh and lower the book he attempts to start a conversation.

“Do you want to talk?” somehow, the question doesn’t fill with dread and the next phrase makes your heart burst with pure joy. “Ru and Lu are worried. They said you looked sad when you arrived and really wanted to make it better.”

“Ah, aren’t our angels the sweetest?” you softly murmur, reaching out to rub at your eye.

“Of course they are. They got that from you.”

From you… But did they really?

After ridding off the pent up emotions with tears, as if guided by some unseen force you took the photo albums out. There are many brilliant pictures that tell your family’s story: starting from the images of your multiple dates, transitioning into dozens from your wedding and then hundreds of your life as spouses and parents. Some were taken by either of you, some - by bystanders, some you got thanks to the winery staff, some were sneaked by Kaeya (those are ones of the most heartfelt, as the man managed to catch Diluc in his softest moments) and some were done by professional photographers. The photos that you needed to see the most were ones of your sons. You spent much more time on those, examining their hair, eyes, facial features and everything else in regard to their appearances, only to come to one simple conclusion - they truly look like carbon copies of their father.

“Luc…” you start with uncertainty, gripping the pages of the newest of the albums. “I wouldn't say I am sad… More like I got overwhelmed and my emotions had better of me. Needed a moment to let it all out not to combust later. I didn’t tell you, because I believed in myself and thought I could withstand it on my own, but the nobles started bothering me again,” you feel his body going stiff and a hand on your knee clench involuntarily. You lift the album and put your palm on top of his, squeezing it. “It wasn’t bad at first, nothing unusual - it was very simple to ignore. But in a couple of months it got worse. Now they openly say nasty things about me. They refer to me as nothing but a 'Master Diluc's kids' mother'! As if I am some kind of a decoration to you, like I am not my own person now! Can you imagine that..?" A deep sigh. "And then they say that I can't even be their mother, because they look nothing like me! I guess,” you gulp, forcing the bubbling emotions back down, “the very notion that someone considers such a possibility offended me and despite my better judgment I couldn’t just disregard it… So yeah,” you show him the pages that are currently open: there are pictures of your boys, one where they chase the crystal flies and the other of them napping on each other on a sofa in the living room. “I just wanted to see if they really do not resemble me at all. I know it’s stupid-”

“No, it isn’t,” you abruptly close your mouth - the firmness of his tone has taken you by surprise.

Diluc didn’t mean to cut you off so harshly, but your words made him feel two things. The first is a total fury - how dare someone to have the guts to speak to or about you like that? Say whatever you’d like about him, but when it comes to you and his kids - it’s a totally different story. The second is a heartbreak - while he doesn’t let pointless words get to him personally and he logically thinks you know he loves you dearly and that Rufus and Lucas are yours, he can see how much those scumbag’s words affected you, and it crushes him to see you weighed down by this.

“None of your concerns is stupid, even though what those…vermins say is an absolute lie,” he brings a hand to your face to gently hold it and smiles when you close your eyes and lean into its warmth. “My flame, our boys are like you too, a lot actually. Maybe not in their looks, but they have so many of your lovely personality qualities that I couldn’t possibly have given them. Look at their wide smiles and ardent gleam in their eyes - they are yours. They definitely share your spirit - which I admire with my whole heart.”

“You really think so..?” you ask quietly, tips of fingers touching the back of his hand, that quickly leaves your cheek and holds onto yours instead.

“Of course, and I know that deep down you believe so too, it just got buried under all of that emotional shambles," Diluc is still not the one to talk a lot, but if it is you, he has so much to say. "Let me remind you that the world doesn’t depend on those idiots’ opinions - you are adored by many others in the community, by our friends and family. Every time our boys look at you, I see the purest love reflecting in their eyes. And I,” he takes a small pause to press a kiss to your knuckles, “I adore you the most. You are the glue that holds all of us together, the Lady of the house, the mother of my children, my loving wife and partner, but most importantly - you are yourself and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Stooop,” you whine, hiding your face in his chest, but not letting go of his hand. “You are making me blush.”

“It suits you,” Diluc chuckles, lifting his other hand to comb through your slightly messy locks. “Red looks really good on you.”

“Pff, the last time you told me so was when you tried to excuse the marks you left on my chest!” you gently bump your forehead into his shoulder and start butting him.

“Still stand by my point,” the redhead presses his cheek to the side of your restless head, returning his arm back around your waist. “But I mean it when I say that without you we are nothing. If you hadn’t entered my life, I wouldn’t be blessed with this family. We smile and laugh and feel so full of love every day only because you are here to love and guide us in ways I don’t feel like I’m capable of.”

“You totally are, the fire of my heart,” he feels your lips on his neck and knows that his own cheeks are being attacked by pink dust.

“Maybe I am, but your contribution is way much more. You know what the boys kept asking after telling me of your sadness?” you lift your head and curiously stare in his gemlike eyes. Diluc is mesmerized for a moment when he sees yours - so clear and honest, with no tear threatening to spill. The smile is back to your pretty lips and your body language is no longer closed off and wounded. You finally look like yourself again, and it fills Diluc’s with joy and pride for you and how strong you actually are.

“They kept asking if they could help you anyhow. They were very eager about it and got a bit moody when I told them they can’t just yet. They love you, dearly.”

“Yes, we do!”

Both of your heads whip to the still closed door and you nearly drop the photo album, which your husband is quick to grab.

“Did you hear that too?” you ask Diluc confused and he nods, putting the book aside.

“Yes, it seems like we have an audience here,” he quietly murmurs to you and then continues in a louder voice, “boys, what did we tell you about eavesdropping?”

“It’s bad!” two voices chime cheerfully and you snort in your fist.

“But affi… effisi… argh, good when work!” adds Rufus and you bet he looks proud. Side-glancing at the groaning redhead, who gently lifts you off his lap and then joins you on his own feet, you ask:

“Why do they know about work?”

“Probably Kaeya. Gonna strangle him later.”

He won’t.

Nevertheless, you are the first to step to the door and open it, revealing the two little troublemakers, who immediately pounce on you, wrapping their arms around your legs.

“Mama, we were so worried…” Lucas presses his face into the fabric of your skirt. Rufus nods but looks up at you with big carmine eyes.

“How are you?”

Such a simple question, but it makes you feel so loved and cherished. Heaving a sigh you reach to comb through their soft locks - the action, which works wonders on any of these three redheads of yours.

You feel Diluc joining your side, wrapping a loose arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple, which makes you even more confident.

“I am fine now, rested and ready to spend time with you as promised. Thank you for asking,” you smile, patting the tops of their heads. “Just let me tell the maids to start on dinner.”

“No need, we did it!” the twins grin, unwrapping their arms from around your legs and instead clasping your hands in theirs. You have a feeling of déjà vu - it really reminds you of the scene when you came home.

“What do you mean, sweethearts?”

“You’ll see! Just come with us! Come, come!” They chant and chant, tagging on your hands and you feel how Diluc takes a step forward, attempting to push your body into motion with his own.

“Oh, okay,” you are confused, but you can’t really fight when all three are on the same mission, so you choose to follow them. You walk through the second floor and then down the stairs, but, much to your surprise, pass by the empty dining table and to the front door. You start to doubt their intentions.

“Wait, wait, I am wearing my house dress! And my hair must be such a mess!”

The boys stop right in front of the exit, turning their heads to look at you.

“I think mama is very pretty,” Lucas says.

“She is the most pretty!” Rufus huffs, but reaches to his hair - which you only now notice to be in a ponytail - and takes his ribbon off, offering it to you. “Here, you can use it, if you want.”

“See? They got this from you,” your husband whispers in your ear as you can’t fight back the gleeful smile, rearranging your hair to look decently.

Outside meets you with such a familiar smell of full ripe grapes that mixes into the wind and envelopes you in a summertime embrace. Soon is the harvest season and you'll enjoy watching your family picking up the juicy berries alongside the winery workers.

Your kids lead you and your husband through the vineyard and a little bit to the side, where you, even from a distance, notice Adelinde tending to something on the ground. When you get closer, she straightens up and smiles at you warmly, to which you respond with a soft smile of your own.

“I am happy to see you with us, my Lady,” and you know that she really means it. Diluc is right, there are many people who love and respect you, way more than a small group of envious remnants of the past.

“Mama, look, a picnic!” The boys point at the big blanket and you finally take in the many plates with fresh and mouth-watering dishes, a big jug filled with juice and four glass cups to match. Adelinde also has four pillows ready for you to comfortably sit - the blanket and the grass underneath do little to soften the ground - and hands everyone one so you can settle.

“Boys, this is amazing… Honestly, I am speechless,” you admit, clenching the pillow to your chest and not believing your eyes. The boys in question smile happily, waving their pillows around in excitement and nearly hitting each other with them.

“Addie cooked and we helped!” Rufus eventually puts the part of the decor - which you are sure were taken from the sofa in the hall - on top of his head and pretends to be a pirate in a cocked hat. Oh, the uncle’s influence.

“We also put everything here. On our own!” Lucas clarifies, watching the other twin closely.

You look at Adelinde for explanation.

“Ah, yes, they chose the spot, laid the blanket out and then even tried to carry the plates with food here, but I worried they’d be heavy for them, so they had to leave it to other maids. But they told where and what should be placed.”

Before you can open your mouth and praise your sons, Lucas playfully swings his pillow and knocks his brother’s off of his head, to which the eldest indignantly yelps. He doesn’t stay stunned for long though, grabbing his now imaginable sword and gets ready to attack the giggling younger and start a pillow fight.

But their father clears his throat.

“Rufus, Lucas, behave,” Diluc warns them before they can knock or spill something on their improvised dinner ‘table’. Twins glare at each other, yet hold their respective ‘weapons’ to themselves. “After all, you worked so hard to make mama happy. You don’t want her to be sad again, right?”

This makes both little redheads instantly forget about the battle and their attention is back on you, complete and undivided.

Finally the four of you sit down - Diluc across you and boys immediately by your sides - and begin your outdoor dinner. The oldest Ragnvindr contently sips on his juice and watches his wonderful wife handle their fidgety sons. His keen eye notices everything - matching bright smiles and identically sounding sonorous laughter, the way the boys gaze at you charmed and lean into you when you refill their plates or glasses and your gentle touch and soft voice when you interact with your precious fireflies - so many obvious traits they share with you and anyone who doesn’t see it is either blind or an idiot.

He hopes you see this truth as well, and both your heart and mind make peace with it. After all, there is only one person that can be by his side, be the mother of his children and make this family happy - and the answer is always going to be you.

taglist: @sleep-deprivedracoon

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #dadluc #genshin impact fluff #pearly family au

1K notes · View notes