#but it is either. a bright dress. or a pastel dress that looks too close to white.
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choosing a dress for a black tie wedding is so stressful i would like to be someone who would be comfortable in a tux now pls
#i picked one and then i showed the picture to my mom and she said ‘that’s a bright color’#and now i’ve spiraled about that for days. was she saying i would be upstaging the bride.#but it is either. a bright dress. or a pastel dress that looks too close to white.#also i literally have pink hair i am going to be more present than a guest’s date might like to be at a wedding#no matter what i wear
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Groupie Love
Chapter One ✿ Touch Down
My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.
Series Masterlist
Series Summary: Your best friend’s band has been taking off, ever since you’ve both started uni. But when you come back from a semester abroad, you find yourself confronted with both: Your lingering feelings for your best friend Eddie, and unexpected ones for their new drummer, Billy; someone you also have quite the past with…
Words: 6.9k
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader
Chapter Summary: You finally come home from your semester abroad to reunite with your best friends. Yet there's more than just your lingering feelings for Eddie that await you, as you're faced with the sudden appearance of a guy you never expected to ever see again.
Chapter Warnings: Fluff. Secret mutual pining and a pinch of angst. Swearing, teasing and some suggestive talks. Very brief mentions of Billy's past abuse. Idiots in denial about their feelings and some longing.
A/N: In order for this story to make sense: None of the Vecna and Mindflayer events happened; so Heather and Chrissy are still very much alive and thriving (as they should!! 😡)
Also every main character in this story is above the age of 18! They're all an appropriate college age, just to make this very clear!!
The first one of your friends you notice is Heather.
She’s hard to miss with her dark brown hair thrown into a dramatic messy bun that’s flopping around vigorously on the top of her head as she speaks, and the bright red jumper she’s wearing certainly makes her stand out even more.
She’s saying something to the slightly smaller person standing next to her, and that’s your other friend you immediately notice: Chrissy.
The blonde’s dressed in a soft pastel color, holding a little sign close to her chest, her eyes scanning the arrival area of the airport repeatedly while listening to whatever Heather’s currently talking about.
She’s also the one who notices you first, her eyes lighting up instantly, before raising her sign up in excitement, pointing it in your direction, smile bright on her pretty face.
God, how you’ve missed them.
You decide to quicken the pace of your steps, as you push your little baggage cart as fast as you possibly can, without threatening to injure all the different pairs of busy feet scurrying around you.
Which, to be honest, isn’t particularly fast.
But that doesn’t really matter, because both of your close friends manage to run up to you excitedly, and it’s Heather that engulfs you into a big hug first.
She can’t help the little squeal that leaves her lips as her arms wrap tightly around you, and neither can you before she starts swaying you both from side to side.
“I’m so happy you’re back!” She states, voice overflowing with joy.
“How was the flight? How was the-“
She’s interrupted rudely by some careless businessman, who’s just bumped into the two of you, before hurrying off without even a second glance or a single worded apology, and you both give him a death glare.
“Hey! Watch where you going!” Heather calls out after him, but he’s either too far off to hear or to care.
Asshole.
But the small scowl on Heather’s face is quickly replaced by another smile as she turns her attention back to you.
“You look good!” She observes, and you can’t help but feel a little shy under her gaze and at her words. Because after a nine-hour flight you feel anything but.
“She sure does, bur could you stop hogging her, Heath? I want to hug her too!”
You don’t need to see Chrissy as she says those words to know that there’s a small pout forming on her lips, one she’s probably not even aware of doing, and it makes it even cuter.
“Fine, fine,” Heather agrees reluctantly, detangling herself from you with a sigh.
And as soon as your out of Heather’s arms you find yourself back in Chrissy’s.
“Missed you so much,” she mumbles, her voice a little softer than Heather’s, and you mutter a hushed, “Missed you more,” back.
“Impossible,” Chrissy huffs, and you smile into her shoulder.
You really, really did miss those two.
In fact, you’ve missed all of your friends, but especially your dear roommates: Heather, Chrissy, and Robin.
And Eddie, of course, except he isn’t your roommate, and you try hard not to notice his current absence.
“Fuck, what exactly did you bring back from Europe, huh?” Heather’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back to reality.
Raising your head out of the crook of Chrissy’s neck, you watch your brunette friend with an amused smile, as she tries to pull on of your suitcases from the baggage cart, but fails miserably.
“Don’t bother,” you state with a laugh, “I needed like two guys to get that bitch on the cart.”
“Geez, seriously?” Heather scoffs, hands on her hips in that typical mom-pose she must have started to pick up from Steve in your absence.
It’s endearing.
“Yeah,” you emphasize with a nod, arms still wrapped around Chrissy, because neither one of you wants to let go first.
As always.
“Okay, so how are we going to get that thing off then?” Heather questions, and for a split second your thoughts drift back to Eddie.
“I’m so sorry! I won’t be able to make it.” His apologetic voice still rings in your ears.
He had told you about it on a phone call two days ago. Those were exciting news for him, really. Not the part about how he won’t make it to the airport to pick you up, of course, but the reasoning behind it.
“We’ll be playing at the Blitz! can you believe it?! The fucking Blitz wants us to perform for the night, last minute!”
The excitement in his voice had been so incredibly clear, even through the phone, that it was almost palatable in your room despite being thousands and thousands of miles away from him, on the other side of the world.
“The goddamn Blitz, that’s like our chance!”
Eddie had repeated, voice just as excited as before, and the smile on your face was bright as you congratulated him, saying he deserved it.
Because he did.
The Blitz being a rather popular bar downtown; some might even say the most popular bar; at least when it comes to the scene of the college kids crowd. It’s a bar known for incredibly good music and live acts, as well as that one place where quite a few popular music groups have first been discovered.
Getting to play there had been a dream come true for Eddie, so of course, you were beyond happy for him, even if the silent realization, that he wouldn’t make it to the airport stung ever so slightly.
But you didn’t want to focus on it then, like you don’t want to focus on it now, because you really want to be the most supportive friend that you can be.
And besides that, you’ll get to see Eddie at his concert tonight.
So, who cares that he didn’t manage to make it to the airport?
You do, you silently have to admit to yourself feeling somewhat ashamed.
You know it’s foolish and slightly selfish, but there had been a little, secret hope buried and growing somewhere deep within your chest, that he’d show up anyways.
That he might steal away in between all of the preparations for this night’s concert, to join Heather, and Chrissy in their excited airport pick up commotion.
But he didn’t.
And even though you have no real right or reason to be disappointed, you still are, and it hurts.
Because you had foolishly hoped he’d come anyways, yet here you are without him.
And you can’t even blame him for the pang in your heart because you knew, because he told you.
Because he had even asked you if you were okay with this.
And of course, you were.
What else were you supposed to say?
No?!
No, I don’t care about your maybe once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity to play with your band at the coolest venue in town? Come pick me up instead?
Of course not!
Because you love him, and you want to see him thrive and succeed and-
Wait.
You love him?
Okay, that just came out wrong.
You don’t love him.
You just care about him a little more than maybe the rest of your friends, but that’s a totally normal and Platonic thing to do, right?!
So, why does his absence still sting so much then?
Chrissy notices the pained look that crosses your face briefly, and the hold she still has on you tightens in a comforting manner.
“You know, he feels really bad about not being able to come.” She states softly, her green eyes searching yours, and you sigh.
“I know.”
You also don’t want to be ungrateful for your two best friends who did show up, driving out to greet you and pick you up from the airport.
And so, the smile you give Chrissy isn’t forced or fake; it’s earnest, because you really are happy to be reunited again with her and Heather, and the slightly bitter taste of disappointment is quickly swallowed down, disappearing somewhere in your stomach.
Gone for now, but not completely forgotten.
The aftertaste is going to rise up again at some point, but not right now, and that’s what matters.
“Oh! I completely forgot!” Chrissy exclaims suddenly, before handing you the little sign she’s been holding on to tightly.
“Here!” She states, proudness clear in her voice, and you curiously take the piece of paper from her hands.
Welcome home, Buttercup, it states in neat, glittery letters, but it isn’t just a welcoming sign.
It’s a welcoming card.
One that you’re able to fold up, and you can’t help but smile at what greets you inside.
There are little welcoming notes written from all of your friends.
There’s Chrissy’s unmistakable handwriting, and Heather's, of course.
But there’s also Robin’s and Nancy’s.
The first one is unable to come because she’s a vital part of Eddie’s Band; the second one is cursed with an unskippable journalism class.
There’s Steve’s handwriting and Argyle’s, as well as Jonathan’s and of last but not least Eddie’s.
Wait, that’s not true.
There’s even a ninth one, you don’t really recognize.
Can’t wait to meet you! It states, in a scribbly fashion, signed with the name Billy.
You know that name. It’s the new drummer guy that joined Eddie’s Band Hellfire roughly two months ago, after one particular big dispute with the previous drummer Jakob.
You never really liked Jakob, he had always been a bit of an entitled douche, and so you’re quite excited to meet the new replacement tonight.
Because he joined the band after you had already left for Europe, you never had the pleasure of meeting him, relying only on the hearsay from your friends.
Eddie’s especially. He had been telling you a bit more about the new guy, voice always switching from amazement to exasperation at the thought of him.
“He’s really talented, but he’s also a lot.” You remember Eddie stating with a sigh. “I’m not sure you’ll like him, but he’s way better than Jake by a landslide.”
You don’t doubt that, but you still want to see it for yourself.
Your eyes flicker over the notes once more as you feel yourself getting choked up and a little teary.
“Thank you,” you mumble, voice emotional, “that’s such a sweet idea.”
“Well, we all felt a little bit guilty about not being able to show up at the airport as your little harem of love.” Chrissy jokes, making you and Heather laugh.
You pull her into another tight hug, whispering little thank you’s against her skin, before you move over to Heather, doing the same.
You really, really missed them both a lot you realize once more; and as the three of you walk towards the exit of the airport, you and Chrissy pushing the cart, laughing, while Heather’s sitting proudly on top of the heavy suitcases ordering directions and driving instructions like a royalty being paraded around, you feel a warm feeling flutter inside of your chest.
You’re home again.
And as fun as your months abroad in Europe had been, you’re glad to be back home.
Back home with your friends.
The drive down to your shared apartment is filled with avid laughter, giggles, and excited stories that you didn’t get to share before.
After being away for months, you’re eager to be up to date with everything again.
Of course, you all called and had spoken to each other via phone, but those calls were incredibly expensive, and so for the most part only the biggest and most exciting stories would get exchanged, and the little, less pressing ones simply had to wait till you were all reunited.
And so, Heather fills you in on that new good-looking doctor from one of her nursing classes, who’s apparently so hot he had some students faint in class multiple times.
And Chrissy tells you about the kids in her new school class, that she gets to supervise as a more practical part of her endeavor to become an elementary school teacher.
They tell you about how Steve failed one of his classes again, and how Argyle and Eddie are currently trying to grow some rather unusual cannabis plants, but somehow keep failing. Either watering them too much, or too little.
They tell you that Robin’s currently seeing a new girl she met through the music scene she’s involved with, and after meeting her both, they’ve come to the assessment that she’s apparently the absolute cutest.
“You’re definitely going to love her,” Heather swoons, “She has the cutest Bambi eyes, and she can actually sing not like-“
“Tami Thompson!” The three of you exclaim at the same time, giggling.
God, it had taken Robin a while to get over her, and you’re glad to hear she’s apparently doing better now.
“Maybe you’ll meet her at the concert tonight,” Heather exclaims excitedly from the backseat, hands clapping together for emphasis.
“Oh, I’d love to!” You honestly state.
“And you’ll finally meet Billy!” Chrissy adds, “I’m really curious what you’ll think of him! You’ve never got to actually meet him, right?”
Her question is paired with a quick glance over to you from behind the steering wheel, before focusing her gaze back on the road again.
“Not that I know off, no.” You say earnestly.
“He joined Hawkins High right after you’d left and moved away,” Heather summarizes.
“God, he used to be such an asshole back then. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still somewhat of a pain in the ass, but it’s nowhere near as bad.”
“Yeah,” Chrissy agrees with a nod, “It’s funny that you never met though.”
You hum, as you look out the window, taking in the familiar scenery again.
“I think Eddie and Steve mentioned him sometimes in passing back then, when we were still in high school, I mean.” You explain, eyes still transfixed on the passing houses outside.
Your family had moved from the West Coast to Indiana right after you had finished elementary school. You had started middle school with Chrissy and immediately made friends with her. With her and Eddie, of course, who was a grade or two above you then.
You consider both of them your absolute closest of friends, and growing up together for so long only sealed that incredibly tight bond.
By the time you started high school, you were still completely inseparable from those two, even when you found yourself exploring different social circles.
Eddie had started a D&D club; you joined the orchestra and made quick friends with Robin and Steve, and Chrissy became part of the cheerleading gang.
But after two years at Hawkins High, right before starting your junior year, your parents had to move again, this time to the much bigger city of South Bend.
So, you left Hawkins and your previous school behind, but not your friends.
Not really, anyways.
You stayed in avid contact for the next two years, calling and visiting each other any time you could.
And by the time college rolled around you all found yourself reunited again.
It’s a bigger circle of friends now, but you love them all the same, with the exception of Eddie maybe.
He’s someone you’ve had a terrible crush on ever since starting high school.
But unfortunately, those feelings are almost as strong as the denial you find yourself in anytime one of your close friends points it out or brings it up.
You try hard not to like him like that.
And you had actually, secretly, hoped, that your time away from him would clear your mind and your heart from at least some of those lingering and interfering feelings, but to no avail.
Each time he’d called you while on your stay in Europe, your heart would pick up its pace at the mere sound of his voice, and the gentleness that slipped through whenever he was talking to you.
Being away from him only made you miss him more as those persistent feelings simply grew stronger, and you hate yourself a little bit for it, because he’s your closest confidant and there’s nothing you’re more terrified of than losing him.
It’s not that big of a deal, you keep telling yourself, because you’re actually terrified of losing all of your friends, if you really think about it.
Maybe Eddie a little bit more?
But what’s a little bit more, in a purely Platonic sense?
You try not to fidget in your seat too much at the mere thought of seeing him again later.
Hear his voice again, see his bright eyes and his even brighter smile again. And those curls. You’ve missed running your fingers through them so, so much.
But most of all, you’ve missed those comforting nights together, curled up on either one of your couches, sometimes high, sometimes not.
You’ve missed his little giggles and the gentle rumble of his chest when he was laughing while you were lying curled up closely on top of him, listening to his steady heartbeat and high ramblings.
You simply missed Eddie.
Your best friend Eddie, whose been by your side as an avid supporter ever since middle school.
Eddie, who you cried to, when the first boy had broken your heart in 6th grade.
And then you ended up crying even more when Eddie came home hours later with a broken nose, because he tried to fight that bastard, and, uh, didn’t quite succeed.
“It was a draw,” Eddie’s still adamant about that, even now, though you both know that that isn’t really the truth.
But it’s the thought that counts, and the determination to protect you, completely and wholeheartedly.
And Eddie certainly did that, when he was putting his fucking nose on the line for you, something he still gets lovingly teased about by the rest of your shared friends.
Eddie, the boy who taught you your first riffs on his cherished guitar.
Who would learn some of your favorite songs, just so he could teach you the cords and watch your face light up with excitement, like when you found him playing Heart of Glass or Sister Golden Hair, two songs he supposedly hated, but not enough apparently; not enough when it comes to you.
Eddie, the guy who, unbeknownst to him, had become the protector and owner of your heart, ever since you can remember; but especially since high school, when he started to get his first little tattoos and grew his hair out, while simultaneously growing more into himself at the same time.
And now, he’s the man you utterly adore - on a solely Platonic level, of course; or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself and your shared friends, but neither one really believes you.
“So, Billy,” you state, because you want to change the direction of your thoughts and talking about a random guy might help.
Though, you did know a Billy at some point in time, but that’s also not something you’d like to think about, and it’s not something you’ve ever really shared with your friends either, nor do you want to.
“He joined Hawkins High right after I left for junior year, right?”
“Yeah, he was a grade below Steve, I think? Or maybe he was a senior then too? Fuck, I don’t remember.” Heather mutters, “But hey, we can ask him about it when we see him in a bit.”
“Oh no, it’s not that important,” you refuse quickly, voice soft.
The avid talks between the three of you start picking up again, when Heather wants to know your opinion on the latest Bananarama single, and it escalates quickly into a passionate discussion about the latest music releases.
By the time Chrissy steers the car towards the parking spots near your apartment complex, you and Heather are still completely lost in a deep and serious debate about who the better Roger Taylor is;
Heather’s convinced it’s Roger Taylor, the drummer of Duran Duran, and you adamantly swear that this is blasphemous, because it's obviously Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen, who’s superior.
Not just over the funky little Duran Duran guy, but superior over all drummers in general.
The god among the drummers, if you will.
Your drummer god.
“You just say that because you think he’s hot and you want to get dicked down by him,” Heather huffs, and you scoff in return, folding your arms over your chest defensively.
As if her assessment of the best drummer isn’t led entirely by lust either.
“Well, who doesn’t want to get dicked down by Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen?!” You exclaim incredulously, before adding, “Like, excuse me, but have you seen him? The hair, the arms, the voice, the passion, the attitude … And you know he has the fucking stamina to hold a decent pace and tempo while-“
“Okay that’s enough!” Chrissy quips up with a laugh.
“You’re both unbelievable.” She states with fake exasperation, “Besides, isn’t it obvious that the best drummer mankind has ever been blessed with is Animal?”
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, as you try to whack your brain for a drummer named such an odd name, but can’t think of any band that would-
The sudden realization that hits you like a punch in the gut has your eyes going wide.
“But Chrissy,” you almost yell in surprise, “That’s the drummer from the Muppets!”
“Exactly,” she chirps while getting out of the car, and you and Heather share a confused and slightly concerned look, before Chrissy pokes her head back into the car, her eyes narrowing in sternly on the two of you.
“And no, I don’t want to fuck him, you animals. I just think he’s neat.”
If you thought getting your luggage out of the baggage cart earlier and into the car was difficult, getting it into your little apartment on the fifth floor proves itself as even more challenging.
By the end of it, all three of you are completely sweaty and exhausted, lightly bickering about who gets to shower first.
As usual you play Rock, Paper, Scissors. As usual Chrissy wins (at least while Robin isn’t around.) And as usual, you go last – it’s a fate that you’ve already made peace with.
You don’t really have the time to unpack everything from your heavy suitcases, nor do you have the energy to, if you’re honest.
So, instead, while Chrissy’s occupying the bathroom, singing a gentle cover version of Sweet Child O’ Mine, that flows softly from beneath the door like the warm steam that’s slipping through, you and Heather decide to get the outfits ready for tonight.
Heather decides on a sparkly dress. You decide on a cute skirt with a flowy top that’s a bit more 70s, and for Chrissy you end up laying out three options.
One that you think is cute, one that Heather thinks is cute, and one that Chrissy would probably think is cute.
Once everyone has showered, the three of you help each other get ready just as always.
It’s the same routine as before you left, and you’re amazed at how easy it is to fall right back into that again.
You currently tease Heather’s hair while Chrissy picks out the perfect jewelry for you, slipping the necklace and the earrings on you carefully.
“Thanks,” you mumble between the hairclip you’re currently holding in between your teeth, as you need both of your hands to finish Heather’s ponytail; while Heather’s swatching lipstick after lipstick on the back of her hand, her annoyed huffs increasing by the minute, because she can’t find that one shade she swears she owns.
“It would be perfect,” she swoons, “And it would really bring out the color of your eyes. I bought it with you in mind, barely a month ago, but I just can’t find it.”
She does find it, half an hour later, when you’re all about to slip through the door to get to the venue.
And you can’t help but laugh because it really is like always.
The Blitz isn’t too far off, and despite having visited it numerous times before, you squirm away anxiously in your seat again.
You’re excited, of course, to see all of your friends again but you can’t help but also feel a little bit nervous.
It isn’t just the thought of Eddie, that has the pace of your heartbeat increasing. It’s also all the other guys you’ll be reuniting with; because after having been gone for a few months, you can’t help but feel a little out of the loop.
Sure, Chrissy and Heather had welcomed you back with arms wide open and filled you in almost immediately on all the newest developments.
But those talks also made you realize how much you had missed out on while you were gone.
Of course, you’ve had your own little adventures in the meantime in Europe, but those were only shared with yourself and some casual friends you made along the way, while the rest of your friends, your closest friends, had been bonding about things you had no clue about, and you notice that you’re a little scared about the prospect of not getting every single inside joke like you used to, before you left.
You know it’s a little silly, but the knot in your stomach still lingers.
“Hey, listen, it’s your boyfriend!” Heather calls you out of your thoughts, voice teasing, before turning the radio up with a smile.
It’s Queen’s One Vision, and the laugh that leaves your lips is earnest and warm, and while it’s not your favorite Queen song, you still hum along, taping the beat softly on the exposed skin of your thigh, as you feel yourself be more at ease.
“Did you watch the making of video of that song?” You question, a teasing smile back on your lips because you know this will rile both of your friends up.
Not waiting for an answer, you continue:
“Roger Taylor looked simply to die for in his funky little dad-shirts, with the sunglasses behind his big set of drums, which surely aren’t the only big things he owns, and doesn’t it just make you want to curl up into his lap and-“
“How the fuck do you manage to come back from Europe more horny?” Chrissy interrupts you amused.
“It’s what the French will do to you,” you joke, poking your tongue out at her and subsequently making her laugh.
“Uh-huh, I bet Eddie would want to hear all about that.”
“Except here’s where you wrong,” Heather chimes in, “Because Eddie doesn’t really play the drums, does he? But if he would hear the way you keep talking about Roger Taylor, I’m sure he would kick Billy out in a heartbeat and play those fucking drums himself, just to impress you.”
“Oh, shut up!” you exclaim, feeling your cheeks heat up and getting rather flustered.
“He doesn’t like me like that anyway.”
“Bullshit!” Chrissy and Heather exclaim at the same time, but you’re still unconvinced.
They’re your best friends, after all, they’re supposed to hype you up.
But you’re not going to risk it.
You’re not going to risk the year-long friendship with Eddie; you just won’t. You might not know a lot, but that’s something you’re quite sure about.
When you arrive at the venue, there’s still a few more hours to go till the concert, and the sun hasn’t quite set yet either.
Heather holds the door open for you and Chrissy to slip through, and the latter takes your hand, without a second thought once she notices the slight tremble of your fingers, thus instantly making you feel more at ease again.
She gives you a supportive smile and you try to mirror it, heart pounding away in your chest with quite the intensity.
You’re going to see Eddie again, and all of your friends you love so much.
The first person to notice you is Jonathan, ever the uttermost attentive one. His hair is a bit longer since the last time you’ve seen him, but it suits him well enough.
You wonder how Nancy feels about it, though.
He smiles brightly at you, once he sees you, dropping the cables he’s been working on unceremoniously before hoping off the stage, his camera dangling from his neck as always.
You sometimes wonder if he wears that thing to bed as well.
But you digress.
As both, unofficial roadie and band photographer, his help is very much needed, and he tries to do his best where he can, in between his studies and his work at a small photo lab.
But right now, everything else can wait, because he has a friend to welcome back.
He’s missed you, and he tells you that while his arms wrap around you softy, and you can’t help but notice how he smells very much of weed; Argyle’s and Eddie’s continuous influence undoubtfully.
“Look at you, you’re beaming!” Jonathan observes with a laugh, as he lets you go carefully before adjusting his camera back in place once more.
He had swung the object over the back of his shoulder quickly, so as to prevent it from poking either one of you during your prolonged hug, but now that there’s even the slightest distance between you two again, the beloved object is back in its semi-secure place.
Before you can lovingly tease him about it, you get jumped by Steve, who’s laughing loud and hearty and almost has you speechless with his bright smile and warm eyes.
“You’re back! You’re back!” He exclaims, jumping excitedly up and down while hugging you tightly from behind, thus rendering you to the ungrateful fate of bopping along like a ragdoll in his grip.
That guy is seriously underestimating his strength, you think, as you get lifted up and down once more, moved around like a fucking saltshaker.
“Geez, dingus, you’re gonna give her moving sickness!”
Robin chides, before encompassing you in a big hug herself, saving you from Steve’s unyielding grip, and you let out a small, relieved huff, as you can actually breathe again.
She still sounds and smells exactly like she always does, and it’s something you didn’t know you’ve missed that much until you’re faced with it again, and it hits you like a brick in the teeth, how very much you longed to hear her raspy laugh and teasing voice, and just everything about her.
You hug her a little tighter as you cherish the feeling of it all a moment or two longer.
“Our little jetsetter is back!” Argyle exclaims from the back of the room at the same time as Robin inquires about the quality of your flight, and he almost stumbles over a few carton boxes to get to you quicker.
He simply joins Robin in her current hug, his body soft against yours, and his lush hair flowing around with every bop of his head.
How did it manage to get even longer, and silkier, you think.
“Now my amigos are all together and complete again,” he hums with content, and you agree with a soft laugh.
You sure are all gathered around together again.
Everyone except Nancy, who’s still at Uni, and Eddie.
Eddie, who’s apparently the last one to get the fucking memo, as he’s stepping out of the backstage area onto the stage, deeply in thought, headphones on top of his curly hair and his beloved guitar tightly in hand.
When he looks up to see you getting absolutely swarmed by all of your shared friends, he almost drops his guitar.
Fuck, you look stunning.
You’ve always been the prettiest girl in all of Hawkins. No, scrap that, all of Indiana, to him.
But after not seeing you for months, and longing for your return every fucking day, being finally faced with you hits him in the chest like one of those kick-boxer-moves he keeps seeing on late night TV with Argyle, when they’re both high as a kite, and he can almost feel himself stumble a few steps back at the intensity of it all.
God, he’s in deep.
But how could he not be, when you’re standing there glowing, smiling brightly from ear to ear as you try to answer each and every one of the rapid questions that your friends currently throw your way.
And then your eyes find his on the stage, and that’s the thing that pushes him out of his previous stare and rigidity.
He’s jumping of the stage even quicker than Jonathan did earlier, sprinting towards your direction and colliding with you with a force that has you actually tumbling back, and you probably would have fallen too, if it wasn’t for Eddie’s steading grip on your waist, as he hugs you as tightly to his chest as humanly possible and then he spins you around like a child.
“You’re back!” he exclaims, voice emotional and a little raw, and he repeats those words until he stops spinning you around, curling himself around you instead, as you both come down from the overwhelming feeling and dizziness of it all.
��Fuck, I’ve missed you so much!” he mumbles, as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, taking in the soft fragrance of your shampoo, and your perfume, and those other notes that just make you smell utterly like you.
God, how he’s missed you!
“Missed you too, Eds.” you admit in a hushed whisper against the exposed skin of his neck, and a little relieved sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, because that means he wasn’t the only one.
Wasn’t the only one who thought of you each and every single day and night of your absence.
Or at least that’s what he’d like to think, because your shared friends have been more adamant in their pursue of convincing him to finally make a move on you, because supposedly you feel the same way about him as he feels about you.
Something that seems Entirely far-fetched and impossible in Eddie’s mind; but the idea does sound very nice.
But he simply doesn’t want to risk it.
You’re the bestest friend he could ask for, and he values you too much, to let you slip away because of some stupid butterflies he’s felt for you, ever since he saw you for the first time in middle school, many, many years ago.
You’re not sure how long you two stand engulfed like that; but there’s still a concert to set up, so it’s probably not as long as either one of you wants it to be.
But nevertheless, Eddie takes the time to show you around, eyes beaming with excitement, and you feel so incredibly proud of him.
And fuck, you’ve really missed his smiles, and his overdramatic enactments as he parades you around the space, eager to so share this special moment with you.
A moment he’s been working towards for such a long time. And knowing he gets to have this with all of his closest friends around, most of all you, means the uttermost world to him.
He’s also rather nervous, but how could he not be.
This night is going to be big.
For better, or for worse.
He watches the rest of his bandmembers, Steve and Robin, scurry around, while lost in thought, before he suddenly remembers something.
Billy.
He’s not sure where that guy is currently hiding, but he’s eager to introduce you two. Curious what you’ll think of each other, because as much as he says he’s exasperated by that mullet-haired dude, he’s also come to like him quite a little bit.
Maybe it’s because he’s moved in with him and the other guys, granting Eddie the chance to peak behind that cold exterior of Billy’s personality, that used to keep everyone at twice the arm’s length.
Maybe it’s Billy’s talent – because, fuck, that guy sure is talented. And maybe that’s what smooths over some of the sharp edges of his personality for Ed.
Either way, that guy he used to dislike during high school is steadily growing on him.
Steve says, it’s probably just the fact that they’re the only ones in the group with the same horrible music taste, but Eddie can just scoff at that.
It’s a bold statement coming from someone who unapologetically sings Cyndi Lauper at the top of his lungs in the shower.
Eddie shakes his head at the memory before scanning the venue for Billy.
He sees the guy in question walk in with an amplifier completely on his own.
That guy really is crazy, Eddie thinks.
No matter how often he’s told him not to carry those heavy electronics by himself, he still does it.
Stubborn little fuck.
He’s about to call out his name, scolding him once more, when he notices one of the in-house sound technicians running up to him, trying to help.
Eddie doesn’t need to see Billy’s face to know that he’s wearing the biggest scowl right now, fuming about not getting his way.
And Eddie decides to let go of your hand that he’s been holding ever since you two reunited, and makes his way over to Billy quickly.
Slapping him so hard on his shoulder it almost has him dropping the amplifier again.
“Geez, Munson, what’s the deal with you today?” Billy huffs as he turns around, but not before putting the amplifier down carefully.
Eddie instead gives the technician a gentle smile. “We’ve got it from here, thank you.” he states, before grabbing Billy carefully by his arm.
“I told you to stop carrying those by yourself, idiot. You’ll just strain your already tense back, and that won’t help your performance while drumming at all.” He whispers, while giving Billy a pointed look, before leading him back towards you.
“Billy, I want you to meet someone-“
“Oh, yeah?” the guy in question asks with a suggestive smile, “But the groupies haven’t even-“
There’s another hearty slap on Billy’s back to render him speechless and get him to shut up again, though the slap itself might not be the only reason for his sudden lack of words.
Because as his eyes finally find yours in the middle of the fucking venue, you feel like your brain is short-circuiting at the actually sight of him.
It takes you a second or two to realize where exactly you know him from, and why his features seem so oddly familiar to you.
But when you finally do recognize him, putting two and two together, you feel like your legs are going to give out, and you can’t help but exclaim, completely and utterly surprised:
“No fucking way!”
And Billy looks at you, just as stunned, blue eyes big as saucers, eyebrows raised almost comically behind his wild curls, mouth slightly aghast, because this simply cannot be.
Because right here, before you stands no other than William fucking Hargrove.
Your childhood best friend, William Hargrove.
Billy Sunnyboy Hargrove; The guy you met in kindergarten and never let go off, until you moved to Indiana, after your shared and chaotic time in elementary school together.
Sure, he looks different.
Fuck, he looks very different, you can’t help but notice, but it’s unmistakably him.
The piercing blue eyes, the slightly freckled skin, the bright smile and lush lashes.
It’s him.
The boy you befriended at the tender age of three and a half after complimenting his dolphin-decorated lunchbox.
The boy you would hide in your closet, in the hopes that his parents wouldn’t find him when they’d come to pick him up again, because you knew what his dad did to him.
Because you knew that the bruises on your body only ever came from falling too hard on the playground, like jumping off from the swing-set to soon; but Billy’s mostly came from a darker and much more sinister source.
A source you can’t shake of as easily as you could the dust from your hands after falling down, and picking yourself up again, and maybe running off to your dad, so he would kiss the wounds and lingering bruises better, while Billy’s dad was the reason for his.
For the violent blue and green outlines that have always bloomed on your best friend’s skin, ever since you’ve first met him.
Billy, the boy who you tried to cheer up desperately, after his mother just left out of the blue, by bringing him his favorite sweets to school, and sneaking him secretly into the girls bathroom, dragging him to the uttermost hidden and final stall, just so you could hold him and let him cry against your shoulder and yell in grief, despair, and anger.
And hurt.
So much hurt.
Billy, the boy you had your first ever kiss with, in an act of complete and utter innocence, because you both just wanted to know what it would be like, with nothing but childlike curiosity.
The boy who taught you how to surf, while you taught him how to make the perfect necklaces out of the prettiest seashells – or as perfect as a 7-year-old can make them anyways.
It’s Billy.
Your Billy.
The Billy you left in complete and utter tears, when you told him you’d move away come the end of summer, a long, long time ago.
Billy, the boy you wrote so many letters to, but never heard from again.
Never spoke to again.
Never even saw again.
Until this very moment.
And when he says your full name in complete surprise and disbelief, you don’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
Next Chapter
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And that's it! Sorry for the little cliff hanger, couldn't help myself with that one! Also, if you made it this far, thank you! I really appreciate you reading my little series! And I hope you enjoyed it!
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove fluff#eddie munson fluff
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Hey!! I don’t know if you take requests, but if you do, Could you continue A Month of Kisses 29? (The vampire Who wants to team up with the hunter) I loved reading it!
Hope you have an amazing day!!
:D! Ah! I'm so glad you liked it!
Sorry this took awhile. I also re-read the original piece a couple times to try and get the mood and style back, since it was a little to the left of my usual work.
I hope you enjoy this and it tastes just as good as the first!
A Month of Kisses, #29, pt2
cw: some non-consensual touching
previous
---
It was harder to spot the monster than he'd expected, but not by much. His past tormentor, deadly and conniving as it was at night, almost blended in under the Italian sunlight outside the cafe. The locals and tourists bore their skin to the strong rays. But the monster wore a wide-brim hat to cover its face, a white, lace shawl to cover its shoulders and arms, and a pastel blue sun dress to cover its body and legs. It wasn't much, but the monster managed to shade itself entirely without being too conspicuous.
He took a deep breath and let it out as a ragged sigh. He was risking everything giving this beast in human's guise a chance. But it hadn't killed him in his sleep, neither here nor during his captivity. And he hadn't noticed it hunting since they had arrived here, either.
The thing tilted its head up slightly, allowing him to see the quiet, bright red smirk on its beautiful face. This far away and under a hat's brim, he could almost pretend it was human. Feeling the line of his dagger's sheath beneath his belt, he walked to the creature.
He sat calmly, facing it with dread in his throat. He was risking everything right now. If another hunter in the community recognized him, recognized it, he would be as good as excommunicated. Resources and contacts he badly needed to do this work would shun him at best. At worst, he'd be added to the list of bounties.
"Relax, darling," it said. But in the sunlight, it didn't have the same power. Its voice sounded slightly dry, and he knew in his heart that it only stood a mortal's chance against him in a fight.
"What did you find?" he demanded under his breath. Those red lips smirked more, and it tilted up its head to look him in the eye.
"Your quarry is in fact vampere," it said, folding its hands delicately on the table, beneath the shade of its hat. "Yet a youngling. I estimate he is no older than eighty." The hunter nodded curtly. He was still waiting on the local contact to confirm the details. But if they matched this thing's, then he could maybe trust it an extra inch.
"Where does it sleep?"
"In a small home, close to downtown." Something about its smile changed. It turned its head slightly, giving him a better look at the side of its face, and its eyes fell to where his fists rested on the table. "It may be risky to approach during the day," it whispered. He watched it reach out, its pale hand crossing into the sunlight, and it delicately traced a line over his hand, down to his knuckle, circling the pad of its soft finger over the rough skin where his punches landed. He itched badly to yank his hand away.
"It won't be a problem," he growled. "I'll go when the neighbors are gone."
"And what if he takes a life tonight?" it asked. He gritted his teeth, and it settled its hand over his, leaning forward over the table. "Let me hunt him for you," it breathed. And there was that… look in its eye. Too powerful to be crazed. Too focused to be frantic.
"I find it hard to believe you'd kill a youngling for me," he uttered between gritted teeth. It leaned further forward, placing its other hand on his, holding his fists with a deceptive delicacy as it spoke.
"I'd kill a babe for you," it whispered. He almost flinched at the way its eyes shone, at the feeling that its voice had come from behind and around him. "I see your heart, hunter," it went on. "I wish only to give you what you desire."
He stayed still, watching it, gritting his teeth. Trying to pass off the pounding of his heart as anger. The shaking of his hands as disgust. He pulled his hands away and it let go, retreating calmly into its own shadow as he stowed his hands in his lap.
"I will hunt it my own way," he ground out. Its expression became muted, but it maintained a hint of a smile.
"If that is truly what you wish," it whispered.
---
The creature hadn't been lying. His contact confirmed the target was vampere, and then he had waited until the late morning to sneak in and slay it. His once-captor had followed him inside, though it stayed out of the way as he made the kill.
It made him uneasy once he'd downed the monster, to turn around and see the other, older, more dangerous creature in the room eyeing him with an unmistakable hunger. He stood straight, holding the bloodied mallet in his hand, watching it watch him. It smiled at him, slick and knowing, even with the daylight outside stripping it of its power.
"You're very good," it purred. He gripped the mallet tighter, stifling the shaking in his hand. It was quiet enough that he heard the drop of blood fall to the floor.
He was still breathing hard from the scuffle, from the brief chase when the creature had slipped his grip, from pounding the stake into its heart. The room smelled like death and blood, and his muscles were trembling from the adrenalin crash and the following rise as he looked at his once-tormentor. As it studied him. As it praised him.
"Good enough," he threatened. Its smile shifted, its look darkening.
"Not quite."
His knuckles were white on the mallet. He knew his other fist was shaking, too, glad to have it hiding behind his side, out of view. Having this thing in the room with him made his heart race, made him feel over-sensitive. He could hear every drip of blood, every breath he took.
He had to look away from it. He had to clean up his kill.
---
He sat at his computer, reading a new lead post for the fifth time. He couldn't focus. He couldn't keep his mind on the listings of potential vampires with the one in his room.
He looked over to the narrow shipping crate. It was only an hour until dusk. The thing in there could get up at any time, but so far, it was staying down until dark unless he had a target. And he still hadn't seen it feed.
He looked back to the forum again, trying to make a judgement about this lead, if it was within his reach and capabilities. But he couldn't focus. He couldn't concentrate.
He looked again to the monster in his room. To the creature he was lugging everywhere he went like luggage. He turned in his seat to face it. Never in his life, not in his worst nightmare, did he ever see himself keeping a pet vampire. But it followed him everywhere. And he took it everywhere. And it always asked to kill for him. And it always praised his work. And it always looked at him like he was perfect.
Maybe he was the pet. The thought was disturbing.
He turned back to the computer screen. The familiar usernames and codes had been his only companions for a long time. Not friends; he didn't have any of those. This hobby was lonely. And it was by the grace of the forum's mysterious benefactor that he could even live off of the demanding task of finding and eradicating these monsters one by one.
And there was always more. There was always more.
He looked over his shoulder at the box. How old was that one? The listing for its death had only provided the evidence it was vampere. He'd even had to confirm the suspicion himself.
He took a deep breath, leaning forward and running his hands into his hair, staring at the screen. If anyone in this little community knew he was toting around an old blood, he would lose everything. But he wasn't good enough to kill it. And he couldn't ask for help.
He couldn't.
The box creaked softly, and he looked sharply over to see the lid was wide open, the thing leaning on the edge and looking at him with that soft, knowing little smirk it had. He hadn't realized it had gotten up. He tried not to breathe too loudly.
"You seem distressed," it whispered. He scowled, turning to properly face it.
"Shouldn't you still be asleep?" It just kept smiling at him. He scowled harder, looked around for his coat, and got up to leave.
It pushed him back down in the chair, hands on his shoulders, so close he could smell it.
He gripped the arms of the chair, trying so desperately to control his breathing. It was suddenly so close to him, its black hair brushing his chest as it held him down, those gentle hands ready to turn into stone at any moment. He stared into its face, reining in the dread and the uncertainty, giving the beast only anger.
It studied him. It ran its hands slowly down his shoulders and over his arms. It stepped closer, standing between his legs, running its cold fingers back up and carefully adjusting his collar.
"I can hear your heart, hunter," it breathed. He tensed his jaw, cursing the way his heart was slamming into his ribs. Each beat was a tremor he had to suppress by gripping the chair harder. The creature swayed, its eyes wandering down his chest. Then it rested its hands again on his shoulders, and it slowly leaned down, and it pressed its cold ear to his heart.
His breathing caught as if he'd been splashed with ice water. He didn't dare to move, not with this thing so close. Its hair was soft where it brushed his chin, and its touch was delicate. But this creature could rip him apart before he even noticed it move. It could kill him instantly in a million ways, and painfully in a million more.
He flinched when it began to move again. When it sank down slowly to its knees, its fingers trailing down his chest and over his sides, and rested its head tenderly on his leg. He looked down at it, folded up and demure at his feet, and it looked up at him slowly, its dark eyes devastatingly needy.
"Tell me what I need to do," it breathed, "for you to trust me."
#Fayte writes#can I ax you something?#writeblr#writing#vampire x vampire hunter#barely edited#also this is only around 400 words shorter than what I usually post#but boy howdy does it feel SHORT
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Thank You For Calling Psych, How May I Help You?
(Yeah this is just a self-insert fic. I'm just their receptionist. This is all based around my actual real-life work persona, including the part about people on the phone thinking I'm a robot answering machine. I-I cannot, express to y'all, how common that is.)
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Gus had thought he'd been prepared for anything when it came to Unexpected Presences in the Psych office.
When he steps through the front door to find a young woman sitting at the always-empty "front desk", dressed in a full sweater and slacks despite the California weather, he realizes he hadn't been prepared for that at all.
She's definitely not there to be eye candy, her bright pink sweater completely obscures her body shape and she's got a light purple polo underneath, fully buttoned up and covering as much as possible. She's also way too young for either him or Shawn to be comfortable looking at in that way, early twenties at most. She looks up at him, her frizzy and flyaway plagued pixie cut pinned back with two plain black barrettes at her temples, and smiles. Her pink-and-green eyeshadowed eyes crinkle up, and her bright magenta lips form a genuine yet professional polite smile.
"Mr. Guster! Shawn wasn't expecting you to be in this early, he's still out grabbing some breakfast. It's nice to meet you!"
"Uh, nice to meet you too." Gus approaches cautiously. He gets a better looks at her up-close. She's wearing colorful eye and lip makeup, and clownish amounts of blush, but no actual cover-the-skin makeup, her acne breakouts fully on display. Her pants are a strange almost 80's-like plaid, mainly black or a shade near black with bright pink, teal, and purple thin lines making the pattern. She's got shin-length socks on with little Christmas themed cats all over them, and a pair of orthopedic dress-style black pleather shoes.
"Is Mr. Guster how you'd like me to address you?" she asks in a voice as bright as the shade of her lipstick. "Shawn said he preferred just Shawn, but thought you'd like the more professional route better."
"Um, Gus is fine. And you are?"
"Oh, Sid." She sticks her hand out to shake.
"Your parents named you Sid? Odd name for a girl."
"Chosen name! My partner came up with it, actually. But anyway, would you like me to read off the appointments for the day?"
"We have appointments?"
"Yes, you have a 10:45 coming in to get a reading about if her band will take off in the next few years, something about her parents giving her a deadline for it or else she'll have to go to college. Afterwards there's a 12:15 coming in for advice on his career path, he's concerned he's committing to the wrong company and has a few offers he's thinking about taking. After that there's only a 6:30 who just wants a general reading because she's curious about what it's like." She reads this all off of one of Shawn's old laptops, adjusting her pastel purple see-through glasses as she peers at the screen. "Shawn told me specifically not to book any 'Are they cheating' cases this week, so it's a little sparse at the moment."
"Oh. Well... good work." Gus nods to her, and she beams at him.
The phone next to her rings and picks it up, answering with a cheery "Thank you for calling Psych, the private psychic detective agency! How may we help you today, tomorrow, or last week?" She giggles at the cheesy line, but looks quite proud at the same time.
Gus sits at his desk and watches her until Shawn comes back. She just sits there, answering the phone and writing things down and working on some kind of visual projects- is Shawn ordering merchandise? - and not-so-subtly sneaking glances at her cellphone every once and a while. When Shawn walks in she greets him with that endless professional-yet-childlike cheeriness, and he greets her back with a grin and a pineapple smoothie.
He plops down on the armchair by the window. "Well, Gus? What do you think?"
"I think you went and hired a receptionist without talking to me about it." Gus snatches his smoothie away with a 'tsk'. "What're you doing, Shawn? We can't afford to pay someone a salary on just one case a week!"
"We aren't! You told me to start taking more private cases, remember?! Even the lame ones." Shawn gestures towards Sid. "I got tired of doing all the other stuff myself, so I put out an ad while you were busy with the pharmaceuticals convention all week. Dude, check out her resume."
Shawn hands over the papers, and Gus takes them with a huff. His frustration smooths out into impress as he reads it. "Wow. Experience in retail, service booking, customer service, office management, and marketing? How old is she?"
"Nineteen, Gus! And look, she had references and everything! Check out that article she wrote for her last job."
Gus skims it. It's a clear marketing ploy article, but it's well-written and comprehensive. The tone is conversational without being casual, and clear without being pushy. It reads like something the actual trained marketing department at Central Coast would come up with, not some kid with a hobby and a couple years of on-the-job experience. "No way a nineteen year old wrote this."
"Dude, she's a writing expert. Check this out, SID!"
She perks up, getting out of her chair and walking over to them with her hands clasped in front of her. "Yes?"
"Gus here, doubts your writing proficiency."
"I didn't-"
"YES, you did. So, how about showing off for him a little? It's fun, trust me, he's great to show off too."
"Oh, um, did you have anything specific in mind?"
"Yes, actually, if you could write up a little ad for the paper that could convince non-believers to give us a try." Shawn smiles at her all lopsided and false sweetness, eyeing Gus smugly. "And uh, if you could sit right here so Gus can see your screen and know you aren't cheating."
"Okay, I guess." Sid grabs the laptop and sits where they can both see her screen. She opens up a document, and her fingers go flying across the keyboard.
Psychics may not be everyone's cup of tea when it comes to personal beliefs, but here at Psych, the Private Detective Agency, our track record speaks for itself. With dozens of cases under our belts, including such high-profile solves as The Shabby Murder and The Jackson Hale Murder Trial, there's no doubt that Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster get results. Whether it's through true psychic ability to commune with a world beyond our own, or just by some great luck and intuition, we get things done. Just ask our 100% solving rate.
"What?" Gus reads it over again. "How'd you write that in less than five minutes?!"
Sid shrugs, grinning pridefully and bashfully at the same time somehow. "I've been writing my whole life. I analyze everything I read. Plus, marketing fascinates me, even if I don't always agree with the ethics used by some."
Shawn smirks at Gus. "Now do you see why I hired her? Plus, she's ordering us awesome t-shirts to sell to people!"
"Alright." Gus nods. "But why's a nineteen year old wanting to work for us anyway? Shouldn't you be out, you know, partying and stuff?"
"Ah." Sid waves he idea away, or maybe swats it away. "I don't do that kind of thing. Even if I did, I'm allergic to alcohol, so it'd be pretty stressful."
"See? She's perfect."
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"Thank you for calling Psych, the private psychic detective agency! How may we help you today, tomorrow, or last week? ... Ah, I see. So you're concerned your partner is cheating... may I ask what leads you to believe that, if it's not too personal? ... Mm-hmm, I see. Well, just a moment, I need to confer with the spirits about- no, no I'm not psychic myself, but I've been given some tools to make contact."
Shawn gives Sid a thumbs up as she pretends to consult a Ouija board.
"I'm so sorry, the spirits are saying they can't help you with this one. No, no your partner's energy is blocking them from viewing his activities. If you'd like we can try again..."
"Two weeks," Shawn mouths.
"Two weeks from now, they're saying. Well, that's when they think there might be an energetic shift to allow them to observe him. I'm sorry, I don't understand the spirits process, I just relay their messages. If you have anything unrelated to your partner that you'd like us to look into- oh, you have a missing package?"
She glances at Shawn again. He shakes his head. "Never packages," he mouths.
"I'm sorry, the spirits don't deal with packages and parcel shipping. They don't like cardboard boxes. You know how cats can see ghosts? And how they love cardboard boxes? Those facts are more entwined than you may think. Alright, thank you for calling. I hope things work out for you! Have a wonderful rest of your day!"
Sid hangs up, and Shawn gives one single grand clap. "Perfect. I couldn't have done it better myself."
"Uh, Shawn?" Gus waves his friend over as Sid beams and does a little happy wiggle in her chair. Gus eyes her warily. "Doesn't that kind of give away to her that you're, you know? Fake?"
"Not at all." Shawn slaps Gus on the back. "Look, buddy, I told her the truth about it, sort of. There's some cases I just don't want to spend my valuable time and energy on, and people tend to be more accepting of that when they think it's on the spirits end instead of mine. None of that says I don't actually communicate with spirits."
"And what about when we bring evidence back? Make your boards? Talk about cases in a way that makes it obvious how we actually solve things?"
"Gus, she's only on the clock until we need her to be! She knows it's part time, she liked it that way! Her employment contract only promises a minimum of four hours a day that she works, and more than that we just pay five bucks extra."
"We what?! Shawn, show me that employment contract right now!"
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"Hello, welcome to Psych, the private psychic detective agency! Do you have an appointment with us today?"
Gus looks up from his research and sees two familiar figures standing at the entrance in shock. He tosses a ball of paper at Shawn and nods at the door so Shawn can watch too.
Lassiter flounders for a second under the onslaught of pitched-up cheerfulness as Jules quickly recovers from the shock of an actually professional greeting.
"Hi, nice to meet you," Jules says, almost matching the near inhuman tone Sid has. Gus keeps hearing Sid clarify to callers that she is not, in fact, an answering machine or robot, and he can't blame them for the confusion. Jules nudges Lassiter. "I'm Detective O'Hara, this is Head Detective Lassiter. We're here to see Shawn about a case."
"Oh, yes, the detectives! Shawn told me to expect you sometime today, would you like any coffee while you meet with him? He wrote your preferences down on the wall."
"We'd love some." Jules nudges Lassiter again, keeping her smile plastered on, and Lassiter finally seems to recover.
"You work here? Willingly?" he comes out with.
"And happily," Sid says with a tilt of her head and a giggle. "Right this way, and I'll grab that coffee for you both."
As she passes by Shawn and Gus's desks, Gus sees her smile fall right off into a near scowl as soon as her back is to the detectives. But a minute later when she's returning with the coffee, it's back.
"-a little swamped in lame cases right now, so please tell me you have something good for us," Shawn says as Sid silently sets down the mugs and then heads back to her desk. Gus eyes her warily, looking for another drop in the facade. None occur.
"We do, actually, and we tried calling but-"
"Ah! I turn off my phone now when I'm in the office." Shawn kicks his feet up onto his desk and smirks a little. "Really helps clear my sense to have someone else handling my worldly heedings, when I need to be handling my otherworldly heedings."
Gus hears Sid stifle a snort of laughter behind him.
"Yeah, well, the only thing you're heeding now is the Chief's request." Lassiter tosses down a case file with a bitter expression. "I can't believe we have to visit you jackasses in this slobhole now just to give you a case."
"Now now Lassie." Shawn begins flipping through the file. "You can just call Sid and I promise, we'll hop right into the Blueberry. Does the Chief actually need our help on this one? Seems a little obvious."
"We thought so too, until we got a confession note signed with only a last name, and it's completely unconnected to the case. We have no leads on who it came from." Jules glances at the desk as the phone rings and Sid launches into her greeting. "How old is that girl, by the way?"
"I'm nineteen," Sid says, covering the phone mic, half-turning in her seat and smiling again.
"Oh." Jules takes in Sid's outfit, which today is a paisley-patterned button-up shirt, completely boxy and unflattering in cut, paired with plain black jeans and a thick gray cardigan Gus has seen almost every day since her first shift. When she doesn't have that cardigan she has long-sleeves and/or sweater vests to go with them. He should really suggest some medications for better blood circulation to the poor girl.
"You dress like an old lady," Lassiter so eloquently voices. Gus thinks about the affinity for cardigans and sweaters and finds himself nodding in agreement.
"Thank you." Sid seems to genuinely take it as a compliment.
Lassiter doesn't seem to know how to respond to that, so he turns back to Shawn and scowls at him. "Are you taking the case or not?"
"Oh, I definitely am. Sid, block off my schedule for the next... two days? Two days, Gus? Yeah, two days."
"Am I to call the clients with appointments and tell them to reschedule?"
"Am I to call?" Jules mouths, looking at Gus with her nose wrinkled in confusion.
"She just talks like that," Gus whispers. "We didn't ask her to."
"Depends," Shawn says over Gus and Jules's little conversation. "What've we got coming up?"
"Well, later today you have a meeting with the CEO of a small startup company, he wants to know if he should sell the business to an offer he got or if he should stick with it. Tomorrow you have two appointments in the late morning regarding stolen garden items, they're neighbors though so I bet it's each other or someone living next to both of them, so it shouldn't take too long... and then the last day is actually clear right now."
"We can keep those," Shawn says, handing the case file back over to Lassiter. "Good catch with the neighbors, that'll really help the psychic juices get flowing on that one."
"I also have their addresses here if you need to do a house call in this case."
"Perfect. Jules, Lassie, we'll see you at the station tomorrow at noon-ish sharp."
"You can't just-"
"Done with that coffee?" Sid asks, walking over and reaching for he mugs. "Yeah? Great, I'll just clear these away..."
Gus watches the subtle dismissal set in as Lassiter and Jules both pause, and then get up, and head out.
"Thank you for coming in!" Sid exclaims as they leave. "I hope you both have a wonderful rest of your day!"
"Are we sure she's not actually a robot?" Gus whispers to Shawn once the door shuts.
"Of course we are. ... Mostly."
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face and features for ned
All right! Let's go.
At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?
The answer to this often depends on whether the person seeing them for the first time is a surfacer or another drow. Most surfacers notice 'very big drow' first and are, perhaps understandably, a bit nervous in consequence. Most drow notice the height first, but also the way that Ned wears their hair - a style which has no reference to all the complicated ways drow use hair to signify status, indicating that they are either a renegade or an exile, and probably both. Both groups are also liable to notice the pastel colour scheme very early on, but draw completely opposite impressions from it, due to very different cultural standards for what counts as alternative fashion.
Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?
Ned is has a very angular face, with high cheekbones, a straight, sharp nose and a determined chin, and a great many freckles, which only multiply the longer they spend on the surface. Their smile is small, close-mouthed and rather shy, and they tend to duck their head while smiling to avoid drawing attention to it, as if afraid of making themselves vulnerable by showing too much of themselves. Their eyes are red, and they have a subtle case of heterochromia, with one eye being claret-coloured, while the other is a deeper, blood-red shade. It takes a lot of close observation to notice this, though. Most observers, however, first notice their freckles. This is particularly true of other drow, observing that they have spent a lot of time in the sun - this response grows more and more prevalent the longer they are on the surface. Ned really likes being out in the sunshine, though it took them a while to get used to how bright everything was.
What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?
Ned is very tall, big, broad-shouldered and powerful-looking. The muscles are a legacy of years alone in the Underdark, which involved quite a lot of vigorous physical activity just to get by. They are unusually tall - in-game they seem to be somewhere in the six-foot range, a head taller than Astarion - which is doubly unusual for an elf and particularly a drow, who tend to be shorter on average. For reference, Drizzt Do'Urden is 5'4", and tall for a male drow. Ned isn't exactly sure where their height came from, but probably some non-drow ancestry somewhere. Their father was a short-term concubine, and probably a slave at that, and their mother never really talked about him, so they aren't exactly sure what was going on with that half of their ancestry. Ned doesn't really dress with their appearance in mind since leaving Menzoberranzan. The priority is being warm and comfortable and waterproof, which does mask exactly how well-built they really are, as they tend to favour heavy robes in many layers, with long sleeves and a loose, draping sort of shape to them.
How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?
Ned moves very quietly, and is very good at stealth - far better at it than anyone would expect, given their size and attention-grabbing aesthetic. They're surprisingly graceful, poised a way that reminds people that they used to spend quite a lot of their time in the form of a panther. Very measured, very controlled, very economical, but still seeming to flow. Their clothing is...well, either helpful or hindering depending on the situation. Ned has a taste for loose robes in many layers, being swathed as thoroughly as they possibly can. Part of this is another rejection of mainstream drow culture, which holds showing off the body as a sign of power, a demonstration that one is magically powerful enough not to need armour, and that one has no need to hide any physical weaknesses. Part of it is just the desire to be comfortable. As such, their clothes are generally loose-fitting enough not to be restrictive, but do have a tendency to get caught on things. Although, most of the time in the Underdark, Ned was in animal form, so it didn't often come up. It's become more of a problem since they started travelling with companions more often, and thus spending less time in panther form.
How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?
Ned's stillness is...slightly unnerving. Again, it's the stillness of a big cat or other large predator, and so perfect that they can almost disappear into their own stillness until people barely notice they're there. Their gestures only really tend to come out when dealing with people, and then they tend to throw most people off-guard - the mannerisms of a courtier from a wilderness-dwelling hermit in tattered robes. And these, too, are controlled, graceful, a little unnerving in how little they seem to fit with any of the rest of how Ned presents themself. Something that has very clearly been tutored into Ned, rather than arising naturally. Their clothing doesn't really affect this, except that it tends to conceal any smaller movements, since they have a preference for loose, draping fabrics that conceal as much as possible.
Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?
Ned has a lot of scars. It's hard to live alone in the depths of the Underdark without collecting at least a few. The most notable, though, are the ones on their face and throat. The one on their throat was sustained in a fight with a drow patrol not long after their flight from Menzoberranzan, and has left them with a permanently weakened, rasping voice. The one on their face is a result of a fight with a hook horror a few years later. None of their scars predate their leaving Menzoberranzan - scars are seen as signs of weakness and imperfection among the drow, and Ned was never anything but perfect until the day they were rejected by Lolth. They also have a tattoo of a beholder on their throat, done in faintly phosphorescent ink. It's partly a cover-up for the scar there, but mostly just because Ned thought it looked cool when they met the artist, the same exiled druid who helped them learn the theory behind their developing skill with natural magic. They wanted to get more, but, alas, their mentor died before they could complete more than that one, and without ever teaching Ned how to tattoo themself.
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Sunny's Journal
Entree 1 | Next Entry
Cast:
Sunny [Sunny's Journal]
Kiana [Kiana's Letters]
Dear Journal,
Today wasn't the same as every other dull day, surprisingly. It all started when I got out of bed this morning... it was really hard.
---
Sunny always seemed to struggle with getting out of bed in the morning. Either she was too fatigued to do so, or her body was in too much pain for her to even move. She didn't like it when her body ached, as it made even the most elementary tasks near impossible for her to do. Often, she didn't see a reason to get out of bed if all it would prove was to be a hassle. And yet, that day, despite all the pain she was in, she had still forced herself out of bed due to a driving hunger.
She carefully made her way down the stairs, when a strange sight appeared before her. An unconscious young woman with dull brown hair lay on the kitchen floor with a deep black substance staining the oddly bright-colored clothes she wore. They dimly glowed with yellow and blue... if Sunny could even call the colors before her "yellow" and "blue".
Sunny was quite perplexed by the odd sight. Someone she did not know laid unconscious on her kitchen floor. She checked her locks, all of which were locked. She checked her windows, which were all closed and locked. She checked every possible entrance in which someone could get into her house and yet... she found nothing.
---
I was confused. I checked all over my house and yet I couldn't find any sign of a forced entree... But there she was. That strange brown-haired lady. She didn't wake up for a really really long time...
---
She sat there with a confused look on her face as she grabbed her broom. She gently used her broom to poke at the strange person, suddenly concerned that the woman may be dead. And yet, to her relief, the woman made a whine in response to being poked with the bristles of the broom. "...ow..." She had a soft tone as she covered her face defensively. Sunny sighed in relief as she began to poke the woman with the broom more. "Get up..." Sunny mumbled quietly. "Come on... get up..." Sunny gripped the handle of the broom, lifting it above her head before swinging it down.
"OW!" The strange woman cried out as she sat upright, gripping her stomach. Sunny had hit her full force with the broom in an attempt to waken her. Sunny sunk back, gripping the kitchen counter. Even if she hadn't hit her that hard, lifting the broom up proved to be a very difficult task. She used all her strength to deal the [rather pathetic] blow, so much that she couldn't stand anymore. "What are you doing in my house? Who even are you?" Sunny pouted. "Your house?" The strange woman looked around with a perplexed looked.
"I'm in your house? How... did I even get here?" She mumbled, suddenly in deep thought. "Last thing I remember was planning Vanilla's funeral with Heart when..." She groaned in pain as she pressed her hand against her head. "Ow... my head... why can't I..." She seemed frustrated. "...My name is Kiana. I... can't even remember my last name... what a mess." The woman, named Kiana, shook her head in confusion. "Kiana... why are you in my house?" Sunny asked. She tried to look angry as she placed her hands on her hips with a frown, but she quickly lost her balance.
"I'm not sure... I don't even know how I got here... Last I remember I was in my own home with my husband... and now I'm here." Kiana said softly. "Where... am I? If I may ask, of course. Oh! And, who are you?" Sunny was quiet for a moment. "Well... you're inside my house, for starters. You're in my house inside of the Chalk City." Sunny pointed towards the window. "My name is Sunny... by the way."
Kiana moved towards the window with a confused expression. Where she had expected to see dark streets with neon citizens, happily talking and drinking. Instead, a much... different sight awaited her. One of a light-colored city, with people dressed in equally light colors.
What were they called? Ah yes, pastels. A pastel city with pastel people. Kiana had only heard of the word pastel. Light, soft colors. They came in all kinds of colors. But Kiana had only heard of it. She had never seen it... until now, that was. "Woah..." Kiana looked around, trying to see as much of this "Chalk City" as she could. There were many little houses, a light yellow in color. Some of them were a bit shoddy in build, with mismatched roof pieces and windows too small for the window frames. Some kids wore clothes with pastel patches. Some of the clothes looked too big on the kids, while adults seemed to have clothes on that were too small. "What... happened here?" Kiana turned to ask Sunny a question. "Everything here looks so... destroyed," Kiana remarked. The Neonized would never have such unstable housing, and they always had clothes that fit their population.
"We're a struggling city." Sunny mumbled as she coughed into her sleeve. "There's too many of us and not enough city. Half the population is violently ill, theft and murders are more common than funerals, and some of us can't even afford food..." Sunny mumbled, gripping her shirt. "And... what about you?" Kiana asked hesitantly. "My mama and papa left all this stuff here for me when they died in hopes I'd be able to live a good life... they worked right up until they died. And I don't think I can... even live a good life for them." Sunny looked down with a frown. "What do you mean by that..?" Kiana sat down next to the small child. "Well... I told you. Half the population of the Chalk City... is violently ill. Most illnesses can't even be treated." Sunny looked up at Kiana with a sad expression. "I have a really bad illness. The doctors can't treat me, they say it's impossible to... they can't even prevent it from getting worse." Kiana frowned a bit. "How... bad is it?" Sunny paused for a moment. "I don't know. They say eventually though, that I'll lose all ability to move my body forever. And then my organs will lose all ability to function... and I will die."
---
I don't really like talking about my illness. It makes me sad. It makes me really sad. But she seemed... shocked. And then she said something I'd never heard of before. She said a place I'd never heard of before.
---
"That... that can't be true," Kiana remarked. "What?" Sunny seemed... confused. "No, that can't be. Such an illness is curable, my daughter had the same illness as a toddler, but the doctors were able to treat her right away." Kiana placed her hands on her hips with a frown. The thought of her daughter made her heartache, but now was not the time to wallow in sorrow. "...Didn't you say that you were planning your daughter's funeral earlier?" Sunny asked with a blank expression. "Well, yes but-" Sunny shook her head as she cut Kiana off. "Doesn't that mean she died because of the illness? Maybe your doctors lied to you, I know some doctors love to lie about treatments to the mamas and papas here so they can make more money off them." Sunny frowned. "No, she didn't die because of the illness," Kiana said sternly.
"Sunny, do you know what hypothermia is?" Kiana asked.
---
Hypothermia... I've never heard of that word before. With Miss Kiana around... I learned so many things I never knew before.
Hypothermia... the darkness... the Neonized City... and a theater. I wonder how those all connect together.
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guess who wrote 2k words about shadow and associating certain colors with the people he cares about :D
(read on ao3)
Maria wears blue. A lot. Her dress is blue. So is her headband. So are her eyes. the walls of her room on the ARK are painted a pleasing sky blue.
You ask her why, one day. You two are in the middle of playing a game. The doctor bought it for her, and everything she has, she has always been more than happy to share with you. Shes about to put her piece down, when she stops to look at you.
‘its my favorite color,’ she says.
You frown, confused. ‘but, why?’
‘it makes me happy when I look at it,’ she says.
It still does not make sense. Preferring one color over all others is entirely illogical. It serves no purpose. You go to ask her to explain further, but then she coughs. You start to go to her, but she waves you off with an attempted smile. The cough worsens, however, and she ends hunched over the game board, her frail body quivering with the force of them.
‘you are not well,’ you tell her.
She smiles up at you again. ‘what else is new?’
You usher her back to her bed with an unamused face. she goes without any more resistance.
.
You try your best to find out what she means about colors. You look at different ones. the yellow of the stars, the whites of the clouds on the planet below, even the different fruits that make it aboard the ship. Your favorite fruits are apples and pomegranates. They are both warm colors, but you don’t think that’s why you like them.
It’s because you like sharing them with her.
Maria asks the doctor for a book on color theory, and you two skim through the pages together.
You are nestled on her lap while she lays in bed. Her blanket, blue and warm and soft, covers her legs.
‘here-‘ she reaches a page full of different shades of purple. ‘these are nice, aren’t they?’
You hum.
‘oh come on,’ she pokes you. ‘you’re not even a little fond of purple? Not even the pastel one? You enjoy the lavender soap we have.’
‘it is the one that least offends my nostrils.’ You say.
‘sure it is,’ you don’t see it, but you can tell she’s rolling her eyes at you. it makes you smile, almost. Because it means she is feeling good today. Well, as good as she can be, anyway. you love these days, when her voice is not heavy with exhaustion and her eyes are not clouded and weary.
You will make her better. You and the doctor. You will help him in whatever research he requires, train as hard as you can, so that she can be well and you can explore the world alongside her.
‘how about reds, Shadow? Any emotions when you see red?’
You close your eyes and grunt. ‘my quills are red,’ you say. ‘it is a color I am accustomed to. If I had an opinion on them, either positive or negative, I would either be vain or self-loathing. And I am neither of those things-‘
‘yeah, yeah, alright. No red then.’ She flips the page and scratches behind your ear. Suddenly, she closes the book. You open your eyes and look up at her curiously. ‘how about this, tell me the first thing that comes to your mind when I tell you a color. It’s almost like a game.’
‘alright,’ you do not move to sit up.
She covers your eyes with both of her hands. ‘no peaking.’ There is a smile in her voice, and you smile as well.
‘green.’ She begins.
‘fauna,’ you answer.
‘but does it make you happy? When you think about fauna?’
You frown. You want to say, not particularly, as I have never seen many of them up close. But she is doing this for you. she has been patient, so you should try harder. After a few moments, you speak. ‘I feel…impatient. I want to see it all up close already, and not just see them in your books.’
Maria rubs your quills. ‘I feel the same,’ she says sadly.
And it continues.
‘red.’
‘I think of myself. I feel bored because I have seen it so many times.’
‘orange?’
‘it is a bright color. It reminds me of the sun. I don’t think I would like to look at it for too long…’
Maria laughs. She has stopped covering your eyes, but you keep them closed. ‘I’m assuming yellow is the same.’ You nod. ‘I figured. How about brown?’
‘I think of the grain they serve aboard the ship. I think of dirt.’ You consider your words. ‘it is not unpleasant…but I don’t think I would prefer it.’
She goes through a list. Purple makes you think of lavender soap. You enjoy the smell. You think you might enjoy it. White is the color of the clouds and paper and stars, sometimes. You think it is fine, if a bit too bright and bland. Grey is the color of the metal of the ship. Of needles and harsh floors. You do not like grey. Maria yawns, and you find yourself wanting to do the same.
‘and blue?’ she murmurs.
Blue. The ocean. On earth, apparently, the sky is blue. Maria has shown him pictures before. But also, these walls. The blanket underneath your head. Maria’s favorite dress, which she says is her favorite because it is her favorite color and a gift from her mother and very comfortable. Maria’s headband, a gift from the doctor. Her eyes-
‘you,’ you say, as sleeps consumes you. ‘I think of you.’ and finally. ‘it’s nice.’
.
Blue is maria’s color. It is the way her eyes shine when they speak of traveling the world. With the hope of long lives for the people on earth. It’s the color you seek when you’ve come back from a particularly difficult round of testing. Blue means comfort and quiet talks and someone who touches you without pain.
‘maybe it’s too soon for you to choose one,’ maria says. you’re both standing by the largest window on the ARK, looking over the earth. ‘you haven’t experienced much of anything yet.’
You turn to her. She is watching the world, but she is distant. ‘when you are free from here, when you go below and live your life, I hope you can choose a color that makes you as happy as ever.’
You hate when she speaks like this. She speaks like she will not get to see it all with you. she speaks like she won’t be around long enough to see it.
Stop it, you want to say. Because the thought of losing the only person as close to family as you will ever have will nearly drive you insane. It does drive you insane, some nights. To realize how alone you are with the only comfort being in your sister’s arms.
‘You’ll be healthy and happy and maybe your favorite color will be green. When you touch it and feel it for yourself. Or maybe you’ll get to feel the warmth of sunshine and it will be yellow. Or maybe even-‘
‘Blue,’ you interrupt. She stops and stares at you.
‘I have decided,’ you say. ‘The color I most prefer is blue.’
She stares at you and for a few long moments, says nothing. You almost regret it. You do not sweat, so why are your palms so warm?
Finally, she smiles. It is bright and warm and releases the pressure building in your chest.
Yes, blue is your favorite color because it is the color of her. Her kindness and patience and mercy. And for her, you would do anything.
.
Blue was the color of maria. Of her dress, now more red than blue, from a bullet wound that you can’t pinpoint. It was the color of her headband, slipped off her hair as you two ran for your lives.
Blue was the color of her eyes when she said goodbye, slumped over the panel to sending you down, down, down. You bang on the glass, begging and pleading.
Blue is the color of the ocean you hurtle towards.
Blue was the color of maria.
.
Blue was your favorite color. And now you have come down here and experienced the world and all that color has given you is pain and grief.
.
That goddamn hedgehog. He’s the fastest, apparently. Their hero. But he looks at you with a fire and rage that almost match your own. You run, and he catches up to you. you would be impressed if you weren’t so hellbent on ending his life.
Just looking at him fills you with rage. He stares you down, unflinching, and fights you head-on. When you fight in the jungle, he is a remarkably easy target. His blue quills catch your eyes without much thinking.
Blue. If it wasn’t enough that he goes on and on about wanting to save and protect this plant (a planet that does not deserve to be saved. A planet with people in power who kill children for no reason- no reason. They don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve the mercy that she was never shown. The mercy she so freely handed out, just like this goddamn blue hedgehog-) if that wasn’t enough, he has to go and be her color.
He is not worthy, and you will damn well make sure he knows it.
.
‘she wouldn’t want this, shadow.’
And you have to stop yourself from screaming.
Don’t tell me what she would want. Don’t speak as if you knew her or cared about her at all. Don’t speak like you understand what its like to lose everything. The world is unfair, I’ll make sure everyone understands.
That’s what she would have wanted, you think.
.
Why is everyone here so loud? Sonic and his friends, even the bat, Rouge that you have slightly acquainted yourself with. They laugh and tease each other and risk everything so the person they care about remains unharmed.
Its pathetic.
Were you this pathetic, once? Are you still?
Is it pathetic of your heart to jump at the sight of a blue blur, because where you once thought of warmth and tenderness, you now think of challenge? He challenges you in a way few have ever. You are excited, is all. Excited to watch him fall. Excited to give the color back to her, because she was the only one fit to wear it.
.
Blue was the color of maria. You knew. Somewhere inside you, you always knew. But now you remember. You remember mercy, and kindness, and patience, and laughter and god-
How could you forget?
Blue is forgiveness. Blue is compassion and understanding and encouragement, and isn’t it fitting that Sonic would share these things with her?
and if they are all like her, don’t they deserve a chance at life?
You decide. You will keep your promise, your true promise. It’s what she would have wanted. Its what you want too.
.
Gold is the color of your rings. It’s the color of you and Sonic, when you save the world.
It’s the color you see when he reaches for you, desperately, stupidly, mercifully, trying to save your life. And you shove him away, content with this being your end. How fitting, for another creature who wears blue to be your saving grace, and your demise. You’ve kept your promise to her and ensured they would have a decent chance for a future. They deserve it, just like she did.
You fall again, and this time you shut your eyes, and think of blue.
.
‘when you are free from here, when you go below and live your life, I hope you can choose a color that makes you as happy as ever.’
And you lived, and you will keep living.
Pink is the color or Amy Rose, sweet-faced and kind, but also remarkably dangerous (you really need to ask her about the rings she wears so similar to your own). Orange is the color of Tails, soaring by you, never far from Sonic’s side. A good kid, worth a good amount of respect. Purple reminds you of Rouge and the dishes she lets pile up, but also of the movies she drags you to and the times she makes you help her apply eyeshadow. Red is blood and fire, but also Omega and his unwavering stability. also Knuckles the echidna that you love to rile up.
But blue will always be special to you. for the memories, and the emotions it brings up. Because in the middle of battle, you catch a glimpse of blue out of the corner of your eye and feel your strength increase. When you go for a run and he runs by you, cocky grin on his face. your heart leaps at the challenge, every time. Blue is annoyance, respect, compassion, and so much more. Blue is a throbbing in your heart that you cant explain, after everything you two have been through.
Blue is one of your favorite colors. (you have many, not that anyone needs to know)
Blue was the color of maria. And blue is the color of Sonic.
#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#maria robotnik#sonadow#kinda?? it can be read that way i guess#idk man i got sad thinking about shadow and maria#my writing#please for the love of god dont tag this as shadowxmaria i wrote them as siblings
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Double Sided
→Idol; Hendery
→Genre; Possesive Smut
→Word Count; 3.1k+
→Warnings; degradation, thigh riding, possessive, corruption kink, jealous Hendery, dacryphilia, slight dumbification, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving) , daddy (not so much as a kink), calls you his doll, degradation, somnophilia, auditory exhibitionism, breeding kink,
→Synopsis; Who would've known that Hendery would've had such a different personality than the sweet, goofy man that you met a year ago?
→A/n ~ Hope you enjoy this, I had actually cycled through multiple idols from nct and svt before finally setting on my favorite crackhead, Hendrarrrry. If you liked my one shot please like, reblog, or donate to my Ko-Fi. Feedback is wanted, and requests are open for any idol from enhypen, nct, and svt.
Hendery leaned in close to your ear, lips brushing over it as he spoke.
"Such a good girl for me.” A whimper left your mouth, your skin feeling like it was on fire where his hands gripped your waist.
Hendery was full of surprises. Seemingly so innocent when you first met him, flirting with you shyly before you got gestured to the next member by the staff at the fan meet. Somehow convincing a manager to let him talk to you again, quickly sliding you his number before he got pulled back stage to prepare for the concert. It’s been a year since that fateful day and he was constantly surprising you. Whether it was constantly gifting you presents, or taking you on random dates you were definitely well endowed with his attention.
You knew that wasn’t the only side to Hendery, the side that was always joking around, making you laugh until you felt like your lungs were going to burst. You knew that Hendery had a different side, especially after witnessing his duality at concerts.
This was nothing like you had imagined.
Straddling his thigh while he watched you grind against him, only dressed in one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of panties. Hickeys already marking your throat where Hendery got impatient - read jealous - while watching you talk with your flirty coworker. A smirk on his lips as you watched your thighs shake, head thrown back while your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders.
“So pretty.” He cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him so that your chests were touching, placing a sloppy kiss over your jugular. “All mine.”
You could only whine at his possessiveness, loving the way he tightens around your neck before letting go. Your hips start to stutter as you feel your orgasm nearing, fire burning so bright you felt as if it was going to burn you alive.
“N-need c-cum please.” Hendery’s smirk only grew while he restrained your hips, forcing your orgasm to fade away into nothingness. A sob falling from your lips while you smacked at his hands, your fourth failed orgasm of the night.
Hendery tsked as he rubbed his thumb over your bare hip, feeling his cock hardening at the sound of your dry sobs.
“You know you’re not allowed to cum. Need to show you that no one would make you feel like me.” You nodded your head as Hendery tapped your hip, signaling for you to start up again.
God, your stupid fucking coworker. You don’t even know why you agreed to go to the company holiday party. Typically choosing to just go home and cuddle with Hendery, occasionally with Bella also when Xiao had you dog sitting. You shouldn’t have told Lula that you would definitely be attending, what even came over you? Maybe it was the fact that she was the nicest one in the office, constantly joining you for lunch and becoming a workplace friend. Either way you regret it now.
You definitely regretted bringing Hendery as your date, especially knowing his tendency to get jealous. Witnessing it after Lucas got too cuddling after a few drinks, appointing you and Ten as his items of affection for the night. Hendery had dragged you to his room after witnessing Lucas attempt to sloppily kiss your cheek. He handed you one of his t-shirts before pulling you onto the bed, keeping you in his room and out of the eyes of the other guys.
You saw how antsy he was while watching you get ready, eyeing your body con dress, attempting to subtly pull it further down your thighs. His hands roaming your thighs as he watched you apply makeup. You had only sighed before asking him if he wanted to come, hoping that him being with you would calm him, keeping his jealousy at bay.
He knew you didn’t know that your coworker Jaehyuk would get flirty while drunk. Easily sliding into the empty space beside you Hendery had left when he went to the bathroom. A strained smile on your lips as you awkwardly sipped your drink, eyes flitting around to see if you could find literally anybody else to talk to. Jaehyuk didn’t let you go that easily, unwanted compliments steadily flowing from his mouth. Hendery had actually witnessed the whole thing, not trusting an intoxicated man with you. Only gripping his cup tightly, laughing at his poor attempts to flirt. It wasn’t until Jaehyuk reached out to you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. Hendery hadn’t even heard the whimper that left your mouth, didn’t need to see the fear in your eyes before he was crossing the room and yanking you behind him. Saying a few choice words that left your coworker shaking as Hendery led you quickly out of the building.
Hendery didn’t want to risk you thinking about anyone else, leading to his plan to edge you until he was the only thing on your mind, the name on your tongue.
And so far? It was working exactly as planned.
“Aw look at my jeans baby, you're soaking through them.” Embarrassment flooded through you at his condescending tone. His hands squeezing your hips as he felt them start to stutter again, helping you get off.
“You wanna cum baby?” You eagerly nodded your head, hope in your mind that maybe he would go easy on you after all. You are his baby girl after all. That means he’ll be nice to you right? Right?
“Stand up.” Another sob left your mouth, feeling the pain of another lost orgasm. “Right now.” Hendery’s tone was biting, only wanting you to obey him. You stood up on shaky legs, feeling your panties uncomfortably sticking to your folds. He tsked again as he lifted your shirt, revealing the darkening pastel fabric of your underwear. Teasingly tracing around it, laughing at the way you stiffened when he pressed your clit, sensitive from riding his thigh for an hour.
“Bedroom.” The finality in Hendery’s letting you know that there wasn’t room for argument. Quickly heading to the bedroom you wasted time laying on his bed, waiting for his next instruction.
“Do you think you deserve my dick baby? You were awfully friendly with him today.” You shook your head hurriedly, as you tried to get on your knees only for him to push you back down.
“I need you, please Hendery. S’ wet for you. Need you to ruin me.” Hendery’s smirk only grew at your choice of words. Quickly removing his clothes before coming closer to the bed, running his hands over your thighs so he could watch the way that you squirm. Knowing just how much you’ll come to regret your words.
“Mm really? Want me to ruin you?”
“Please.” Hendery’s hand slid up your thighs, squeezing them intermediately before moving to the hem of your underwear, sliding his finger underneath the elastic. Pulling them to the side to admire your pussy that was glistening from your arousal.
“Aw you want me to fuck you like you’re a slut? Nothing more than my dumb little toy.”
You gasped as he blew on your clit, cold air causing you to twitch and grind your hips against the hair. Hendery only repeated the action before licking a line up your cunt, moaning as he tasted your arousal.
“My little slut tastes so good. No wonder Jaehyuk tried to get a taste.” Before you could even show your distaste at hearing that name in such an intimate time Hendery was attaching his lips to your clit. Hands flying down to tangle themselves in his dark hair, hips attempting to grind against his face when he placed a hand on your stomach, keeping your hips pinned to the bed so that you were at his mercy. Only able to pull on his hair and writhe uselessly at the onslaught of pleasure until Hendery got tired of it. And Hendery never got tired of eating pussy.
30 minutes of pure torture. Whenever he felt you clenching around his tongue too much, or a moan would get a little too loud he’d slow down. Blow on your clit, and wait for you to start to sob before going back in. Sucking on your clit even harder before repeating the process, ruining so many orgasms that you felt as if you were going insane. All of your thoughts were of Hendery and your absolute need to have him in you.
“Aw poor little baby. Look at you, trying to hump the air cause I’m not touching you.” Hendery’s condescending tone only added to his constant teasing, and belittling. Hendery loved making you like this, absolutely dick dumb. Your eyes were completely glazed over while your body shook from your dry sobs. Something so alluring knowing that you completely wanted him, hearing the constant begging leaving your swollen lips.
Leaning in he placed his lips on yours. It took a minute for your addled mind to realize what was happening. When the confusion cleared you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him down so that he was flush against your chest, his shirt rubbing almost uncomfortably over your sensitive nipples. His hands went to your waist, squeezing them gently before sliding his hands up under your shirt, cupping your breasts and enjoying the way that you moaned into his mouth. Quickly Hendery went to work, squeezing and flicking your nipples while his tongue slid into your work, licking into your mouth and sliding over the back of your teeth. Fingers dancing down your sides before slipping into your underwear, two fingers circling over your hole before shoving them inside of you, a high pitched moan leaving your mouth at the unexpected intrusion.
Pleads leaving your mouth when he attached his lips to your throat, sucking bruises higher up your throat. So many that you wouldn’t be able to hide them next time you say your ‘flirty’ coworker’. No way that any simple excuse would work for it, everyone would instantly know what happened and who did it. Practically branding his name into your throat, everyone being able to see that you’re his. All his to do whatever he wanted to. His little doll. His slut.
His finger’s steadily massaged over your sweet spot, thumb rubbing over your clit. Your hips were grinding against his hand, whining at the intense need to cum, scared that he was going to pull away at the last minute and cause actual tears.
“You're so close, baby. Cum for me. Cum for daddy.” Hendery drank in all of your moans as you orgasmed, still working his fingers inside of you while placing sloppy kisses along your neck, one kiss for each bruise. Pulling his fingers out and placing them in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste of your cum that coated his fingers. Watching as your eyes slowly fluttered open to look at him, watching him clean his fingers with a content sigh. Fire already starting to burn again, knowing that the only way you would be satisfied is for him to fuck you.
“Kunhang please.” You rarely said his actual name during sex, so this was more than a pleasant surprise. His cock throbbed hearing it roll off your tongue, and he realized while he was teasing you he was also teasing himself the same exact way. Pulling his fingers from his mouth he quickly helped you take off your shirt, throwing it across the room before hastily taking his jeans off, almost falling off the bed in his haste. A quiet giggle left the both of you when he finally plopped back down, pulling you on top of him, swiftly kissing you again. Less dirty than earlier, but just as needy on both of your parts. Hands entangling in your hair before roughly forcing you to sit up, watching you arch back into nothing.
“Come on baby. You want me baby right?” Hendery smirked while watching you eagerly nod your head. “Then ride me baby. Fuck yourself on my dick.”
Hendery released your hair and watched how you quickly moved to sit on his cock, barely bothering to pull your panties to the side. Another loud moan leaving your mouth as you felt your tight cunt stretch around his dick, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself.
“Come on slut. You were begging for my dick right?” A hard slap to your ass punctuated his sentence, causing you to clench unconsciously around his dick. “Then move.”
You started to bounce on him, setting a frantic pace nervous that if you didn’t he wouldn’t let you cum again. You could not handle another lost orgasm. Hendery rewarded you with a deep groan, gripping your hips tightly as you rode him like you were on a mission. His dick sliding over all of your sweet spots, the fire in your stomach growing intensely. You tried so hard to get yourself there, not wanting to disappoint him but your thighs started to shake. Already weak from being edged for almost two hours, and they only started to burn at the intense pace you had set, spreading up your hips and down to your knees.
“Can’t.” You cried out, trying to keep your set pace. Hendery’s fingers dug into your waist. You were certainly going to have bruises of his hand prints all over you.
“Can’t wait. My dumb doll can’t ride dick?” Hendery set his heels into the bed, before fucking up into you as you continued to cry that you can’t.
“You wanted my dick. But can’t even ride my dick.” Hendery grunted as he resumed the pace you set, fucking up into you hard. Your mouth hanging open, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “So fucking pathetic. My dumb fucking doll.” Hendery slid one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it roughly with his hand causing your second orgasm to hit you, cum squirting out of you and coating his thighs and stomach. At the feeling of you clenching around him he couldn’t himself and came, continuing to fuck his cum deeper into you, only stopping as you started to whine. Wrapping his arms around you, not bothering to pull out as he turned you both to the sides.
“I’m tired.” Hendery laughed at how childish you were speaking, cuddling your head further onto his chest.
“Take a nap doll. Just know we’re not done yet.” You sighed before taking his advice, the room slowly darkening and the sound of his soothing heartbeat lulling you to sleep.
God, you should’ve stayed awake. You knew he was planning something funny when he told you to sleep, but you hadn’t imagined he would wake you up with his slow thrusts, hands on either side of you while you bit the pillow below you, attempting to muffle your moans. The sounds of people stirring in the dorm caused slight fear to flow through you, panic at the thought of Ten coming into the room and seeing Hendery fucking you.
You tried to bury your face further into the pillow but Hendery had other plans, pulling your hips up so that you were on four and grabbing your hair. Yanking it causing your mouth to drop open and a loud moan to echo through the room. You already knew without seeing them that the boys had heard it, the sound of shuffling feet and forks hitting bowls stopping it briefly. You could already imagine Ten, and Lucas’ cocky smirks at the sound, Winwin’s face turning bright red from embarrassment, while Kun just tried to change the topic because of Xiao and Yangyang asking too many questions. It wasn’t the first time that they had heard you, and knowing Hendery it wouldn’t be the last.
“You're thinking about them hearing us.” You tried to deny it but Hendery only slapped your ass, the smack resounding throughout the room and if you didn’t know better you could almost hear one of the boys saying ‘ouch’. “The way you’re clenching around me. Thinking about one of them walking in huh? See me fucking my kids deeper into your messy cunt, still dripping with my cum from earlier.” Another loud moan, and an awkward cough from the other room. White, hot shame flooded your veins, knowing you wouldn’t be able to face the boys afterwards.
Teeth digging into your lip, trying to protect the little bit of dignity you still had around the boys. Hendery didn’t like that one. Grabbing your hands and holding them against your back, forcing your arch to deepen. In this position every thrust hit your g spot directly, and you weren’t able to muffle your moans, only able to helplessly drool at the intense sensations. Your continuous lack of noise was only angering Hendery, wanting all of the boys to know how good he makes you feel. They would never be able to see you like this, dick dumb and drooling, only able to mumble as he fucked into you like this.
“Dumb fucking doll. Feel so good you can’t even moan huh?” Pulling your arms you groaned from the pain as he pulled you back into his chest, free hand sliding around to play with your poor, swollen clit. Abusing it once more as he rubbed sloppy circles over it, pressing his thumb against it harshly causing a scream to leave your mouth.
“My dumb doll. My little fucking slut. All mine.” You felt yourself clench around him, orgasm rapidly approaching along with some pain from overstimulation.
“Cum for me doll, all over my dick just like this.” With one last well placed bite from Hendery at the base of your throat you felt your orgasm wash over you. Warm, tears flowing down your face as he continued to fuck into you, squirting more of his thick, hot cum into your tired cunt. Hendery slowly pulled out, laying you onto the bed before tossing on some sweatpants and heading to the bathroom.
After very thorough aftercare, you were sitting in bed with Hendery, eating noodles while watching some random movie that he had put on, Bella sensing your slightly distressed state was curled up on your lap. Glancing over at Hendery you watched as he laughed before shoving noodles into his mouth, feeling a smile tug at your lips.
No matter how many sides he had to, you loved each one of them.
⇣Random Crack Dialogue⇣
“Should we go check on her? It’s been an hour since we’ve heard anything.”
“I don’t even want to sleep in my bed, they’ve contaminated the whole room.” Ten whined while throwing himself onto Lucas.
“Let them be, we all saw how Hendery grinned at us while getting the food. He’s doing all this on purpose.”
“It is weird to say I’m proud of him.” All of them turned to Yangyang, who only shrugged his shoulders as he went back to stealing Winwin’s chips. “I mean out of everybody I would’ve thought that Lucas would be the first one to do that.”
“Hey! Can you guys believe him?”
Silence ensued, as everybody believed it.
#kpopcatalog#nct#nct smut#nct fluff#nct scenarios#nct drabble#kpop#Kpop smut#dom!idol#possessive!idol#wayv smut#wayv hendery#wayv huang guanheng#nct hendery#nct u#nct u hendery#nct u huang guanheng#nct huang guanheng#wayv imagines#wayv x reader#wayv x you#nct x reader#nct x you#Hendery x you#Henry x reader#wong yukhei#chittaphon#ten chittaphon#wayv ten#wayv kun
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Burn The Witch 17 - Bad Habit [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.
Summary: Everyone needs help sometimes.
Series Masterlist
It wasn’t that there weren’t any spies who didn’t lie to their superiors.
There just weren’t any spies who lied to their superiors and lived to tell the tale, especially on high stakes missions like these.
You tried to convince yourself that the General would never find out, but that wasn’t the only reason why you were freaking out. Putting false information on your report was bad, yes, but the worst part was that you were beginning to find it harder and harder to report whatever information you found out about your fake boyfriend.
For some reason, you had a feeling it wouldn’t just stop at one lie.
Your eyes opened as you snapped out of your sleep all of a sudden and you took a look at the window, but it was still dark outside. That wasn’t the problem, the problem was that you had gone to sleep with Bucky by your side but now you were in an empty bed.
“Bucky?” you whispered into the darkness and sat up in the bed. After kicking off the covers, you made your way to the living room but as soon as you got there, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.
“Hey,” you whispered, “Are you okay? Are the bandages too tight?”
He pressed a hand over his side to check the bandage, then shook his head.
“No, no…” he said, “Did I wake you up?”
“Nope,” you said, “Is the bed too uncomfortable?”
“The opposite.”
You tilted your head “The bed is too…comfortable?”
He let out a small bitter chuckle and ran a hand over his face as you stepped into the room, then sat down on the floor as well.
“I’m not really used to…” he waved a hand to motion around you, “It’s not familiar to be comfortable.”
Ah.
Of course. You should’ve seen it coming, he was a soldier and coming back home was always so hard for soldiers, especially in Bucky’s situation.
You had so many nightmares after bad missions, you had no idea how you would sleep if you had anything close to what he had been through.
“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked and he shook his head again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I was hoping this wouldn’t happen.”
“Don’t be,” you murmured, “Do you want to be alone?”
“No,” he paused for a moment, “Please stay.”
Your heart skipped a beat and you pushed your hair behind you ear, taking a look at the pillow and the throw on the couch, then grabbed them and put them on the floor.
“Y/N, you’re not sleeping on the floor.”
You rushed to the bedroom to grab your pillows and the blanket off the bed, then went back to the living room.
“What are you doing?”
“It’ll be fun,” you said, putting the pillows and blanket on the floor. “Like we’re outside, only not with…annoying bugs.”
“You’re not serious.”
You plopped down the floor and gave him a bright smile. “I am!”
“Darling….” He started but shook his head with a sigh as you lay on your side, pulling the blanket over your shoulders.
“I’m very stubborn, you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to change my mind,” you informed him and he shot you a small smile, then lay down as well. You entwined your fingers with his, then looked up at the ceiling.
“My virtue is so screwed,” you pointed out, making him huff out a laughter.
“Oh absolutely.”
“I mean, there goes my hopes of…” you trailed off, “White picket fence house and puffy skirts and homemade pies.”
“What, you don’t want them with me?” he asked and your heart skipped a beat, then you stole a look at him.
“Can you even imagine that?”
“Yes I can.”
“I think I picture a movie,” you said, “There’s this….big yard, and white picket fences and we painted the house white but the door is red. And there’s a dog and— feel free to stop me anytime, Bucky.”
“Don’t,” he smiled as if picturing what you were describing made him happy, “Just keep going.”
“We have a rescue dog,” you said, “We got him from a shelter and named him… um, we named him something funny.”
“Is it a big dog?”
“Yeah and you take him on a run every night. Mornings with me, nights with you.”
“That’s a good schedule.”
“He likes me better.”
“Ouch,” his smile widened, “I don’t blame him.”
You hummed, “And you have a mustache I think.”
He shot you a look, “If you say a Clark Gable mustache…”
“I’m just putting it out there—”
“Nope. Not gonna happen.”
“Fine,” you let out a laugh, “And we have an apple tree in the garden. Wait no— we have an apple tree and a peach tree.”
“How big is the garden?”
“Not so big,” you said, “Like in those movies.”
He paused for a moment and you stole a look at him.
“You wanted a big garden?”
“Well,” he said, “We need a big garden for the treehouse.”
“We have a treehouse?”
“Depends,” he said slowly, as if he was intimidated, “Kids love treehouses.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of having kids with him, for the hundredth time the image of a happier future where you weren’t a spy flashing in front of your eyes. You tried to stop the smile pulling at your lips.
“Yeah,” you said, “I think our kids would love them too.”
You could see the ghost of a smile on his face as he rubbed his thumb over your hand.
“Yeah?”
“Mm hm,” you yawned, “And in summer we would put a bouncy house thing in the garden and we would put a hammock between the peach tree and the apple tree and we would relax there while the kids are wreaking havoc in the bouncy house.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Yeah,” you murmured, sleep luring you as you closed your eyes, taking in his scent, “Sounds like a good plan.”
***
You really didn’t have time to second guess yourself today. Yes you had lied to the General and spent the whole night with Bucky imagining an impossible future but now, you had to keep your head in the game.
You would figure out what you would do. Eventually.
This was a mission. You had to start acting like it.
“I don’t think I like this one,” you called out from the dressing room and in a second, the door opened to reveal Chloe who raised her brows.
“Wow.”
You tilted your head and stepped outside to look at yourself better. The gold body chain wrapped around the lingerie gleamed under the shop’s bright lights and you fixed the suspenders, clicking your tongue.
“Nah. I don’t think so.”
“Wow,” she said again, “I hate you so much, why do you look so hot in lingerie?”
“Chloe, every woman looks hot in lingerie,” you said as you walked back to the dressing room to try the next lingerie set. It was a red lace bodysuit and after a moment of struggle, you got into it, and opened the door again.
“Not this one either.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to sleep with him!” Chloe squealed, “Are you excited?”
You cleared your throat, “It’s just a mission.”
“Yeah but you want to sleep with him?”
“The dude is hot.”
“Y/N.”
“What?” you fixed your hair and frowned at your reflection, “Nope. I don’t like this. It’s too….meh.”
“I doubt Barnes would say meh if he saw you in this,” she said, “He’d probably pass out. You look like you’re about to grab your whip or something. Oh— Y/N, you should like tie him up or something! If we’re not going full on vintage, show him the modern fun times!”
You shot her a look, “Something tells me he doesn’t like to be tied up Chloe.”
“Why not?”
“Uh, because HYDRA scumbags tied him up a lot and he still has nightmares about it?”
“Ah,” she said, “I forgot about that. Hey, maybe he could tie you up!”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I said to Julian when he suggested I called him sir in bed,” you stated, “No thank you, I don’t do that sub thing.”
“Now I kind of wish we specified your cover’s kinks,” she heaved a sigh, “It’d make things so much easier.”
“My cover likes to be in control.”
“No, real you likes to be in control,” she corrected you, “Nothing about your cover says control.”
“Chloe—“ you started but stopped talking when the shop assistant approached you.
“Do you find it to your liking?”
“Um, not exactly,” you said, “I mean I like the color but overall—“
“Do you have bridal sets?” Chloe cut you off and your eyes widened.
“Easy there.”
“Like maybe soft pastel tones…. The whole thing though, garter belt and stockings and everything.”
“Of course!” she said, “We have some new arrivals, let me bring them here.”
“Chloe!” you whispered as the shop assistant walked away, “What the fuck?”
“Think about the dresses we picked for your cover,” she said, “Soft pastels. It makes sense that your cover would pick those shades in lingerie too.”
“Bridal? Really?”
“I mean, Barnes will want to propose you right there when he sees you in them so…” she grinned at you while you narrowed your eyes at her, “Come on! I’m very curious about how he is in bed.”
You tilted your head, “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” you asked, “Because love triangles are so early 2000s.”
“Hilarious,” she deadpanned, “And no. My type is more—relaxed. Less serious.”
You scoffed and leaned back on the wall, crossing your arms, “You could just say Keith.”
She shifted her weight, biting on her lip. “I mean…” she trailed off, “He still doesn’t make a move though.”
“Why don’t you make a move?”
“I could never!” she gasped, “Nope. Ever. Besides, I thought you were against me dating spies.”
“I am,” you admitted, “But it’s your love life. If you want to date a guy who has an extremely dangerous job and worry about whether or not he will come back to you alive….”
“You’re very romantic, Y/N,” she said as the assistant came closer, holding the set. Even you had to admit, it looked very sexy and beautiful at the same time, with soft pastel lace adorning the fabric, and you took a look at the basque, then walked inside.
“Besides, you’re the one to talk.” Chloe called out as you got into the lingerie, then ran your fingers over the garter belt.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Your boyfriend does dangerous stuff too.”
“Fake boyfriend,” you corrected her, fixing the basque, and as soon as your reflection caught your eye, you raised your brows.
“Okay, maybe you had a point,” you admitted and opened the door, and Chloe grinned at you.
“See,” she said, “This is what I was talking about.”
You smirked at her and leaned on your hip, still looking in the mirror.
“Fine, I like this one.”
“Told you,” she sang and you crossed your arms.
“What dangerous stuff has he been doing lately?”
“He was texting with Wilson about some HYDRA person,” Chloe said, “Apparently they want to go after him. Tonight.”
“What HYDRA person?”
“No clue. And we can’t send a team because then it’ll be obvious— Y/N, I know that look,” she shook her head fervently, “No.”
You tried to look as innocent as possible, “I didn’t say anything.”
“You want to go after the same HYDRA person as them, but you have specific orders and we still haven’t got the okay from the top of the chain of command to go after that scum.”
“Chloe.”
“No. I’m not going to give you the address.”
“Well if Barnes ends up dead, I won’t have a mission will I?”
“He’s going to be fine, he fights better than you.”
You gasped, “How dare you?”
“He fights better than everyone in the division!” she insisted, “He can take care of himself.”
You pouted, “Fine,” you said, “I guess I won’t give Keith the idea of taking you out on a date then.”
She paused for a moment, “That’s bribery.”
“Uh huh.”
“You have no shame, do you?”
You motioned at the lingerie set you were in, “Does it look like it?”
She rubbed at her eye and let out a small whine.
“If my dad asks—“
“He’s not going to know.”
“Do you promise to behave?”
“I always behave,” you stated, making her snort.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“Please?” you asked, “I promise I’ll be safe. I’ll just make sure he’s alive, that’s it. I won’t get involved in anything.”
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
Chloe pursed her lips. “For your information, I think picnics are romantic.”
“Dully noted,” you said, “Trust me, he will take you on a picnic. So, do we have a deal?”
She rolled her eyes, then nodded, making you let out a laugh and walk back to the changing room.
“I want candles on that picnic too!”
“Send me the list of your demands,” you called out, “I’ll make sure they’re all covered.”
***
In all honesty, Chloe was terrible at saying no to people, especially the people she loved.
You fixed your ski mask as you took a look at the text Bucky had sent you after you asked him what he was doing;
Nothing much, going home soon. You?
“Liar liar….” You sang as you typed your reply.
Soup Kitchen was so tiring, I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.
Fine. Maybe he wasn’t the only liar in this relationship.
You took a look at the building’s window through your binoculars, then lowered them to check your phone when it vibrated.
Good idea. Sweet dreams darling.
You tried to ignore the smile on your lips but as soon as you heard gunshots coming from the building, your head shot up.
“Shit,” you murmured and tried to see what was happening, but it was impossible. Whoever they were, they were definitely staying away from windows.
“Not gonna get involved,” you muttered, “Not gonna get involved, it’s stupid and puts the mission in danger. I’ll stay right here, he can take care of himself.”
For about five seconds, it worked.
“I’m being stupid,” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed the gear around your waist, then checked whether it would actually carry you, “I’m being so fucking stupid, I haven’t even slept with the dude yet….”
You went over to the edge of the rooftop, then took a deep breath, grabbed the cables and jumped to crash through the window of the building the gunshots were coming from. You pulled your gun to shoot the person who looked like he was about to shoot Bucky, sending him to the ground and Bucky pushed the guy he was fighting with through the wall, then turned around to point the gun at you but as soon as he did, he frowned.
“….Shrike?”
“Hi handsome.” You unbuckled the rope from the harness, sending it up to the rooftop again as he lowered his gun. “Need a hand?”
Chapter 18
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#tfatws#the falcon and the winter soldier#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes imagine
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A while ago I received an interesting question about game aesthetics. The person in that ask really struggles with downloading stuff and finding their own style. They asked me how I came up with what you see on my screenshots. Have you ever thought that you can recognize whose screenshot this is by just a quick glance? Is editing important in photoshop? How to take beautiful screenshots? Today let’s talk about how different one single game could be for each of us and what really makes this mysterious “sims aesthetics”.
EDIT: Sorry, it turned out to be huge with lots of random thoughts :D I hope at least one percent of these is useful!
NOTE: English is not my native language, I apologize for possible grammar or spelling mistakes. I tried my best in writing this!
Ok, let’s imagine that you’re a person who just obtained the sims game or just want a nice fresh start and demolished your download folder. (We all need fresh starts sometimes, right?) The struggle is that you have no idea which style you like the best. There are so many sims blogs. Everyone seems to enjoy what they post but you’re a little bit lost in that jungle. Don’t worry! I’ll try to guide you and share my thoughts.
STEP 1 Choose your general style
I roughly divide all sims blogs that I see on my dashboard into a couple of so-called styles. I’ve been doing it in my mind for ages. I like following different people and seeing diferent editing. None of them are better than others. I hope you understand that it’s just a matter of liking. Ok, here we go. Let me put this sorting hat on you :D
1. Realistic
Screenshot by @luchiatores
Perhaps, it’s the most important thing that you should decide for yourself. Wether you should use realistic textures in your game or you’d prefer to stick to more cartoonish maxis match ones. Why is it so important, to my mind? I like things that match. Just imagine game Witcher 3 where characters and surroundings are realistic. And now imagine Minecraft where things are pixelated. Both games are great, both games have certain beautiful styles. And now imagine Geralt hunting for monsters in a pixelated Minecraft swamp. A bit strange, isn’t it? :D The same applies to Sims. If you put a super realistic skintone on your sim and put a Maxis ponytail, that would probably look strange too. If you choose this style, just try to dig for a good quality content, start following simblrs in this style. Unfortunately, I’m not an expert when it comes to realistic content. So, try to drop an ask to someone whose realistic game you like. There are so many helpful people around in the sims community no matter what style they have :)
2. Trully Maxis Match
screenshot by @whattheskell
This is a complete opposite of a realistic style. I’ve always called people who use a lot of original maxis textures “trully maxis” :D If you can decorate a house without any custom content, if you like the way original hairstyles look, if you like Maxis clothes, you should go this way. From what I’ve spot after being so many years in the sims community, “trully” maxis simblr are so creative when it comes to storytelling. The stories that they write about either their sims/or maxis premades are so breathtaking. So much drama, so much fun. The only thing that I write about my screenshots is “Ok, this is my cat! Look, it can eat flowers and puke afterwardst! Yay! Cute”. If you choose this way, I can recommend you to check out @holleyberry, @didilysims or @moocha-muses. Obviously there are a lot more blogs that I follow. These people are just so sweet and helpful and they’re first who came to my mind.
3. Bright Maxis Matchery
screenshot by @muupi
This is where I refer myself to. This style is still Maxis but what stands out is the use of bright colours and saturated photoshopped pictures. Ah, my love for overedited pictures is endless <3 This is what I’m going to talk a lot below since it’s my cup of tea. It’s all about colours and pallete addiction. If you love looking at super bright/silly/cheery screenshots and they boost up your mood, than join the squad!
Basically, Maxis match (I’ll just shorten for MM from now on) players avoid super shiny skins or hair textures and prefer to have content with Simlish letters instead of English ones. This is a very important factor for me when I choose paintings or prints for T-shirts. I don’t know, I feel like it’s so cute that sims can’t understand our languages, talk this funny gibberish simlish language. It’s cute! There are so so many people that I can recommend. @lina-cherie @keoni-chan @kahlenas They are first who came to my mind <3
4. Grungy/cosmic
screenshot by @lilithpleasant
I don’t know if these are suitable words :D But this is how I describe people’s game who like aliens/supernatural sims/grungy textures with or without bright colours as well. Just think would you prefer a bit of a grungy stuff or less-textured but cleaner MM? You always need to think about textures while you download stuff. I can recommend to check out @pooklet or @furbyq-sims
5. Semi
screenshot by @whysim
You might ask me “Why am I not allowed to put a realistic skintone on a maxis sim? What the hell?” Of course, you are! Do it please, if you want. There are no rules, no restrictions. You CAN go semi-realistic, you CAN mix patterns, you CAN mix colours. There’s only one rule: please, enjoy what you do. Don’t be afraid to share your pictures on the Internet. There will always be people who can judje your style and say: “meh, it’s too dull, meh, it’s too bright, meh, too shiny, meh, too plain meh, meh, meh”. Just don’t pay attention and enjoy your game. As for semi-realistic I can recommend such wonderful people as @marvelann @lilith-sims @falkii @knowledgeaspiration
A bit about my style: I’ve always loved cartoonish/bright style. I’ve never ever played with shiny textures. Before Tumblr era I just played either without CC or with a bunch of maxis recolours. How I came up with the idea of cartoonishness? Pretty simple. It’s a part of my personality, I think :) I’ve always loved Disney/Pixar movies. Cartoons just make life a lot funnier! They make me happy. I’m a pre-school teacher after all :D. You can’t imagine how many cartoons I’ve watched throughout my life. I can quote Peppa Pig and will never be tired of that :D Before Tumblr I just played some funny legacies (I’ve never finished any though :D) When I found out about Tumblr, and such great content that can make my game even more Disney looking, it just blew my mind! Every time when I download stuff, I imagine that I’m watching a Disney/Pixar or whatever studio cartoon. When I create sims, I feel like I’m a cartoon designer. Pretty silly, right? :D
Let’s take a look at my screenshots from the past. I tried to find similar ones with a lot of greenery.
2014
2021
I stil like a lot of greenery. Editing has changed, photo angles have changed. But bright colours and Maxis stuff are forever in my heart <3
Risa (2014)
Gage (2021)
As I’m a big cartoon addict, I love recreating game/anime/cartoon characters. No matter, if they’re my favourite or requested ones. I love when my sims have different traits. I love when they’re funny looking/clumsy/absent-minded or when they’re evil/supernatural. When they are pirates/detectives/vampires or witches. This is my way of playing Sims. I love this game as it gives us possibilities to show your creativity, a chance to recreate our favourite characters. A chance to be a writer of storylines or if you’re bad at telling stories, just being “a cartoon designer” like me :)
STEP 2 Colour palettes
If you’ve chosen the path of “bright maxis matchery” than colour palettes are super important! Oh, you can’t imagine how addicted I am to certain colours. I can download GBs because of it.
Here are some of my favourite colour palettes:
1. Anna’s colours
My absolutely favourite palette. I would download absolutely anything in these pretty colours. Just looking at them makes me so cozy *0* There’s a photoshop action for those who want to recolour CC in this palette.
2. Poppet’s colours
I especially like the latest one. So pretty! @poppet-sims is the queen of lovely recolours. She has some more palettes. But “Back to Basics is my favourite”
3. Eversims colours
@eversims has got a lot of pretty colour palettes. But the most iconic one is Ever So Lovely
So, these are the basic colours that I like downloading furniture/clothes with.
There are a couple more pretty palettes that I like:
Huning’s Pony Colours
Back in the days it was my ultimate favourite one. But these days I edit my pictures in Photoshop excessively and prefer calmer colours and add bright layers in photoshop instead.
Nyren’s Kosmic Colours
If you’re more into pastels, than try to download some stuff in this pretty palette.
You might wonder if I use all of these colours. Of course not! I have a selection of colours that I use: apple green, sky blue, yellow, red, pink, orange, purple, teal, mint. I absolutely love combining 2 or 3 of these in my interior shots. I also love choosing my sims’ favourite colours and dressing them/decorating their bedroom in this certain colour(s).
For example, my sim Mia likes apple green/purple and mint.
I think @deedee-sims can relate. While I prefer choosing a favourite colour per sim, she chooses favourite colour for the whole family!
This is a great idea, I think! :)
STEP 4 Bodyshop stuff
Ok, I hope it’s clear that I’m colour palettes addicted, now let’s move onto actual custom content and what I prefer adding to my game. I decided to divide CC by sections. Let’s start with Bodyshop.
4.1 Skintones
Another important thing that you need to choose for yourself. There are tones ofoptions. I’m going to recommend only MM skins as obviously I have no idea which realistic or semi-realistic ones are high quality.
screenshot by @deedee-sims
If you prefer trully maxis skintones, I recommend you to try Leh’s skintones. It’s super close to original ones in terms of shades. Also look at those button noses! These cute noses is the reason why I started using this skin back in 2014. But later I switched to Lilith’s feather as I wanted more variety and those noses there got a lovely shine.
It was my default skin for a lot of years. These days I own every possible skintone by Lilith and various blends by other people.
Lilith’s Alien Flavor
Lilith’s Android Skin Edit
Lilith’s Apple Pie Skinblend v.2
Lilith’s Apple Pie Skinblend
Lilith’s Apple Pie by Kahlena
Lilith’s Feather Skinblend
Lilith’s Feather Skins
Lilith’s Feather by Sim-Strangers
Lilith’s Feathers Colourful by Berrynooboos
Lilith’s Honey Supernatural Custom
Lilith’s Honey with freckles
Lilith’s Honey with no freckles
Lilith’s Honey Unnatural by Berrynooboos
Pixel-danger-sims pastel skins
Here’s a very handy set-up by Vimpse with Lilith’s skins being townified.
Try to choose one set of skins or download all of them by one certain creator. I need a lot of skins because I love creating tones of sims and I want to make them various looking.
4.2 Eyes
♦ Polaroid ♦ - my favourite
♦ Transcendental ♦
♦ Sleeping Lion ♦
♦ Sharp Eyes ♦
♦ Shallowed in the Sea ♦
♦ Hand Outs and Punch Ups ♦
These are just some of my eyes. There are some more by Poppet, by Kahlena. And I have various addons to these sets that I grabbed over and here. I remember having struggles of choosing only one set. But than I thought: why do I have to choose if I like all of them and want my sims to look as different as possible? I just love when they are cartoonish but high-quality with nice white clean sclera. Just look at Disney Rapunzel. You’ll see what I mean ^_^
There’s one little trick that most mm players do for making sims’ eyes bigger and rounder - adding a whiteline eyeliner by jesstheex. I personaly do it for every single sim of mine.
4.3 Makeup
I use tooooons of blushes, lipsticks and eyeshadows. I have everything by Lilith and Jesstheex. And lots of bits and bobs by various creators. I love using both matte or shiny textures. I sometimes add nose shine or use special nosemasks. There are various lovely things in my collection. What I can recommend you is to download a sim that you like by another creator with the help of Sims Clean Installer and just steal makeup from the sim to add to your collection *evil laughter* I recommend to do it because sometimes there are some mouth corners or various eyebags and etc which are difficult to find. It’s easier to grab them together with sims.
For example, I grabbed the shiny nosemasks from one of Lilith’s sims.
Sometimes I like adding a bit of shine on Sims’ noses. Some sims of mine don’t have shine. It really depends on a sim. But what I definitely like is cute button noses! I like using nosemasks to achieve that. I have all the masks by Lilith and these ones by kahlena.
4.4 Hair textures
Another important decision for you is the hair textures. I recommend you to choose one certain retexture. Back in the days, I used to have Remi’s textures
screenshot by @selenaq13
I liked Remi’s ones because they were non-shiny. They had maxis colours and a really cool yellowish blonde!
Receintly I switched to Simgarooped as I’ve always loved that there are 6 naturals. The yellowish blonde is still there! Plus my favourite Deedee-sims keeps updating every week with the retextures of new meshes <3
There are lots of various textures blends. Just search, download, play test. Think, if you’re ready to look at such type of hair hours of simming.
Also try to decide if you’d like to have more natural looking sims or go crazy and have supernatural/aliens. I used to have really bright sims with colourful skins and hairs.
Even my toddlers had unnatural hairs. It’s a lot of fun! But right now I prefer to create more natural looking sims though I like vampires/witches/aliens anyways!
screenshot by @honeylungsims
If you would like to have colourful supernatural sims, check out Honeylung! She has the brightest and most unusual supernatural sims <3
You’ll need a lot of face masks/bright lips/shadows. Check out @berrynooboos for the cutest alien CC.
4.5 Facial hair and Brows
I don’t think they should really match as long as they look great.
For example, I use eyebrows by @suratan-zir which are super cute and high quality but use Poppet’s textures instead of Simgarooped.
As for facial hair, I use some Poppet’s as well.
by Skoogy
by Poppet #1
by Poppet #2
by Simgaroop
4.6 Clothes
As I already mentioned, I love clothes in my favourite palettes. I love Simlish prints. There are so so many creators who share wonderful clothes.
I love @deedee-sims for age conversions, shoeswaps, morphs. I love @mdpthatsme for really cool 4t2 conversions. I love @moocha-muses for colourful T-shirts <3 Don’t be shy to send me a WCIF about a certain item of clothing.
STEP 5 Buy and Build
Tooons of bright recolours, IKEA items, Maxis add-ons, 3t2 and 4t2 conversions - all these things make my heart beat :D
These days I play in a rural-type world. I download a lot of craftsman-style build things, a lot of plants and garden deco.
I love bright wallpapers and greenhouses, I love clutter and kids CC for nurseries. Patterns with polka dots and plumbobs. Sunflowers and tulips. This is what I usually drop into my download folder :)
STEP 6 Taking screenshots
No matter which recolours and textures you prefer, I think high-quality pictures are important. The first thing that you need to playtest for yourself is a camera mod. It’s upo for you, but I can’t live without Gunmod’s Camera Mod. There are some more available, just check out.
Also lighting is important since Maxis original is terrible. I use Dreadpirate’s mod.
I recommend to take screenshots in a camera man mode. Click Tab to enter it. Use W, A,S,D,E buttons to move right/left/up/down etc. And what’s important, use X and Z for zooming in and out. I always use Z for example, when I take close ups of my cats.
Don’t be afraid to experiment with angles. Try some artistic ones.
You can move your camera down and take a screen from below.
Or vice versa from above.
Sometimes I’ll just take a screen of my sims’ hands or feet. It really depends. I love spending hours on just “walking” in a camera mod around my sims houses.
Another useful feature of this mod is to use Ctrl +4,5,6,7,8,9 buttons.
These can fix the angles for you. And after fixing them, when you click on 4,5,6,7,8,9 you camera will go back to those positions. It’s very handy when you want to screen 2 sims who are talking and there’s no need to constatntly move camera from sidde to side. Just fix it and wait for them to perform cute emotions!
As a bonus, you can fic positions in the life mode too. For example, I always choose a proper angle from above where the wgole house can be seen. And wait for something cute/funny/to happen.
Also there’s such a thing as The Rule of Thirds. It’s the rule of photography composition. I always try to follow it :)
STEP 7 Photoshop Editing
I love oversaturated colours. It can be too much for someone’s eyes, but I like the brightness :) I’ll share some good Photoshop resources. Probably, one thing that I can recommend to absolutely everyone no matter how bright you want your screens to be is sharpening! Seems that Tumblr eats our picture quality for breakfast. Sims screenshots seem so blurry to me. I love sharpening them first.
I use sharpening from Kalekaloo’s action.
After sharpening I run the base from Eversims Action and then add some colour layers from Simburgerr’s one (I like gradients and fluffy lights layers especially). It makes the reds colours a little bit too saturated but I think it’s cute!
There are a some more cute actions and PSD files out there:
OhMySims - Action 1
OhMySims - Action 2
Sterina’s Action
Photoshop PSDs by Pleyita
Snapdragoned PSD
Mandragore PSD by Kiinuu
JellyBeanery’s Action
Roguebotanist
Nnilou - 12:51
A generic PSD by Knowledgeaspiration
Colorize IT by Bonnypixels
Colour Crush by Bonnypixels
Just Like Heaven by Pixeldemographics
For more tips/palettes/cute fonts I recommend you to check out @bepixeled
That’s all that came to my mind. I hope at least something was useful!
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lights out.
neighbor!yunho
word count: 7k
angst, fluff
you had three requirements when searching for your first apartment: a good location, an all pets allowed policy and access to the rooftop.
it seemed a little unusual, that you’d really find the perfect place, all the other check marks and lovely amenities secured, and just say no because you weren’t able to escape to the roof.
but it was a place you always found solace in.
cold nights overlooking the city or warm, spring days in the sun - and when you first moved in a few months ago, overjoyed to check out your new daily view, you saw one of your other neighbors also had an affinity for the rooftop.
he was softly humming to himself as he looked out over the roof, his tall, broad figure covered in a yellow hoodie. just the profile of his face alone had your cheeks warming, faded light blue hair peeking out from under his hood.
a peaceful look covered his face, all the light in eyes and softness of his features making him look boyish and sweet.
and then as if he sensed your presence, or more like your fascinated stare of admiration, he looked to you and his lips pulled into a bright smile.
“hi.”
you bit down on your lip at the realization you got caught, a slight blush on your cheeks as you shot the handsome stranger a shy smile.
“hi,” you said softly, your eyes moving from him to the view behind - all very picturesque and pretty, tall skyscrapers and a clear, blue summer sky. “i’m sorry if i interrupted you.”
“not at all,” he hummed, his arms crossed carelessly over the edge.
an awkward silence hung in the air, unsure if you should stay grounded in your place or make a move closer to him; you chose the former, in case the handsome stranger was weirded out by your closeness - but he seemed to take it another way.
“are you scared?”
your eyebrows pulled together at the teasing smirk on his face, an interesting contrast to the slightest hint of concern in his eyes.
“of what?” you ask in confusion, looking from the view to his cute, questioning face. “you?”
a smile crosses his face that has your heart jumping in your chest, the sun shining down on him and proving that he really is just as perfect as he seems even from afar.
“i was thinking more the heights or the view but i guess the fact that you’re on the roof with a stranger could be scary too.”
an awkward chuckle leaves your mouth, not so much because of his comment but because you don’t know how you’ve managed to develop a crush on this man in less than 60 seconds.
you hesitantly make your way over, your eyes shining with nerves and slight amusement.
“actually, i’ll have you know, access to the rooftop was one of my three requirements for getting a place.”
“oh yeah?” he asks, a smile on his face as he turns his body toward you. “did you just move in?”
he’s pressed up against the concrete without a care in the world, eyes roaming your face and not once dipping toward your dress-covered body.
“i did,” you smile, “about an hour ago.”
“no shit,” he smiles, the profanity leaving his mouth a stark contrast to the sweet smile on his face. he makes his way over to you, his large form towering over you making you swallow nervously - he’s far too handsome and big, two factors proving to be a major weakness for you.
“i’m yunho, apartment 304.”
“y/n,” you smile, the way it lights up your face making yunho’s heart jump in his chest - you’re even prettier looking this happy and excited. “apartment 305.”
you should’ve known then that the handsome man on the rooftop was gonna turn out to be the kindest neighbor you’ve ever had.
he welcomed you into the building with open arms, invited you to a dinner party with his friends mingi, wooyoung and san who also lived on the same floor as you two.
he was always quiet and considerate of the people around him, making sure his tv and music was low by the time 9:00 came around - and even when it wasn’t, you couldn’t help but mind because it was always sweet, soothing tones of comedic chatter or soft pop music.
he always lended you extra butter or milk when you needed, the first time he saw you in your messy ponytail and pastel pink apron the time he realized he might have a little crush on you.
that the times he got excited seeing you down in the lobby or in the elevator were more than just his heart having random palpitations.
the knock on his door that day was soft in a distinct pattern of two, opening up his embarrassingly messy apartment to see you standing there with flour in your hair and a sheepish smile on your face.
“hi neighbor,” you smiled sweetly, your small hand with chipped nail polish waving to him. “do you have an extra egg you can spare?”
“depends,” he smiles, leaning his head against the doorframe cooly. “what are you making with it?”
“pumpkin bread,” you inform him cheerfully, just about the only festive, fall food you’re able to make apart from sweet potato soup.
“ooh that sounds good,” he smiles, his large hand ushering you inside. “come on in. excuse the mess.”
it was your first time stepping inside his apartment, messy and properly lived in but a nice, clean scent in the air - like laundry, home and men’s cologne.
he had a large sectional to fit his crazy group of friends he told you about once in the hallway, a large tv perched on the wall and a small dining room table with rickety folding chairs.
you could tell immediately that it was an apartment that was like a home rather than a house, the same type of warmth in it that shines through the man taller than his own refrigerator.
“i wish i could say my apartment isn’t always this messy but that’d be a lie,” he says, one egg in hand as he makes his way over to you. he looks down at you with a smile, his eyes going back to the cute little apron adoring your body.
“that’s okay, so is mine,” you say, far too guilty of skipping your sunday cleaning day for the past three weeks.
you can’t help the way your eyes trail over his soft brown ones, everything about him and his aura only making you develop a stronger crush on him. he just seemed like such a sweet and genuine person, always looking out for you and going out of his way to send you a smile.
no one has ever made you feel so welcomed in a new place before nor have you ever seen someone with such a sweet, soft smile and kind eyes.
“so just one egg?” he finally asks, breaking the silence and the way your eyes roam over each other intensely.
“i.. oh- yes! yes, thank you, just one,” you stutter out, taking the cold egg from his large hand. you never noticed how nice his hands were either, veiny and large with long fingers and clean nails.
there doesn’t seem to be anything about this man that isn’t perfect, apart from maybe his disaster of an apartment.
“i’ll be sure to bring you a piece of bread when i’m finished,” you say sweetly, the man smiling down at you teasingly causing your heart to jump.
“and if you burn down the complex?”
a mock gasp leaves your mouth as you hit him lightly, his soft chuckle ringing through the air as he watches you turn to leave his apartment.
“forget it then!” you squeal jokingly, knowing right when it’s done, you’ll be rushing over to make sure it’s still nice and warm for him.
his eyes linger on the bounce of your hair and your messily tied apron as you disappear into the hall, letting out a small sigh when he feels the remaining hints of butterflies in his stomach.
“are you ever gonna tell her?” his best friend mingi asked, the two of them going down to san’s for thanksgiving dinner a few weeks later. “you’ve known her for three months now. that’s a reasonable amount of time to have a crush, she wouldn’t be weirded out.”
“i know but we haven’t really like... talked talked, you know,” the tall boy explains, a bowl of mashed potatoes in hand. “we have... neighborly chats in the hallway or in the elevator, sometimes even on the roof if we’re both there, but we really don’t know each other that way.”
“okay and that’s what a date is for, the fuck?” his younger friend spats, a small chuckle leaving his mouth; he wishes it really were that easy for him.
“do you just wanna give her eggs and sugar for the rest of your life?”
the tall boy lets out a sigh as he looks at his friend, the dramatic, playful flair of his body causing him to bite back a smile.
“and it’s obvious she doesn’t have a boyfriend, you would’ve seen him coming and going by now,” mingi continues, their loud footsteps stomping further and further down the hall. “you really have nothing to lose.”
but he kind of has everything to lose.
he likes being the friendly neighbor you can get eggs from or see on the rooftop.
he likes being the person who’s made you comfortable here, helping as you adjust to a new, intimidating setting.
he likes being a friend to you, one that genuinely cares for you and doesn’t have any ulterior motives because he may or may not have feelings for you.
“i don’t know, maybe one day,” yunho says, knocking on san’s apartment door with his free hand. “but today is not that day. today is not the day i confess my tiny, small, minuscule crush to-”
the door opening causes his words to halt, potatoes nearly slipping from his grasp when he sees your smiling face and the light brown sweater dress clinging to your body.
“y/n,” he smiles, shocked but pleasantly surprised to see you here. “hi. i-i didn’t know you’d be here.”
san comes out from behind you less than a second later, throwing a friendly arm around your shoulder as he smiles at him connivingly - yunho knew he was gonna regret letting his little crush on you slip when he and san went out and got shit-faced at dinner together.
“i heard she made delicious pumpkin bread so she had to make the cut,” san said, bumping your arm teasingly when you turn to narrow your eyes at him.
“oh? you heard i made good pumpkin bread?” you question, remembering the events from a few weeks ago very differently. “or you demanded to be let into my house for a bite after you smelt it through the walls?”
“eh, tomato, tomahto,” he says quickly, ushering in mingi and yunho who are holding in their loud, contagious chuckles. “come in, we’re fucking starving waiting for your slow asses.”
you catch yunho’s soft gaze moving to you, smiling at him sweetly and heart fluttering rapidly when he smiles back.
“hi, neighbor. surprised to see you here.”
“yeah,” you chuckle out awkwardly, not wanting the man to think you’re intruding on him and his friends after your short time knowing them. “i hope it’s okay. once san smelt the bread and heard i wasn’t doing anything for the holidays, he kind of, basically, insisted that i-”
“oh, no, no, i’m... i’m happy you’re here,” he says, his words rushed out and awkward but full of sincerity. “i’m really happy to see you here.”
your heart jumps at the sentiment, a soft blush on your cheeks that you’re somehow ignorant to on his face as well. you bite down on your lip to control your smile, giving him a small nod before offering to take the potatoes from his hands.
when you turn to bring the bowl over to the dining room table, your back to the two giant boys watching your retreating form, you miss the way yunho’s blush becomes darker.
you miss mingi elbowing his friend obnoxiously and mimicking his cute, flustered “i- i’m really happy to see you,” resulting in yunho elbowing his friend back roughly.
he’s able (aka cuts off, both, wooyoung and san) to secure a seat next to you at dinner a few moments later.
he tries to ignore the way your elbows bump all night, the two of you awkwardly giggling and apologizing with soft smiles before finally allowing your arms to just... touch.
remain close to one another and find comfort in the way your skin is warm and soft on each other.
he tries to ignore the way your fingers graze as you wash the dishes and he dries them later that night, what feels like electric sparks shooting through your skin every time you touch.
“that was really good,” you tell yunho softly, your eyes observing the boys throwing left over remnants of food at each other or picking through the netflix movie selection. “you guys are good cooks.”
“like your bread wasn’t demolished in three minutes,” yunho huffs, pride and assurance in his tone that causes you to smile sheepishly; there’s a few beats of silence, embarrassed by the compliment, before he begins to speak again.
“our first thanksgiving together was also the first away from our families,” he shares quietly, ignoring the way his heart jumps as he takes a plate from you. “we didn’t know what the hell we were doing and completely fucked up the turkey.”
you let out a giggle as he recalls the disaster that was thanksgiving day two years ago, airing out the smokey apartment and waiting for their thanksgiving feat of chinese food.
“well you guys definitely redeemed yourself, it was all very good,” you compliment proudly, a pretty smile stretched across your face. “one of my best thanksgivings.”
“did your family not celebrate?” he asks absentmindedly, watching the way your face falls for a split second before masked by a small smile.
“not really,” is all you share, both of you quickly pulled away by wooyoung’s incessant demands to “hurry up so we can bust out the second desserts.”
you both try to ignore the slight tension in the air as you walk back to your apartments that night, arms bumping and soft giggles echoing through the walls.
it feels as if the night shouldn’t end yet, like you guys have been talking in this hallway for hours upon hours because neither of you wanna go inside and separate yet.
a couple of nosy onlookers can’t help but observe the scene, your back pressed against the wall as you talk animatedly about your journey for a pet.
“i wanted a cat but i also want a dog,” you tell him, the light in your eyes as you talk about the possibility of orange tabby cats and golden retrievers. “maybe i’ll get both one day.”
yunho’s smiling down at you with such a fond softness in his eyes, like he’s hanging onto each and every word you say no matter how small or casual.
“they’ll be dating by next,” san says, bumping his arm into mingi playfully.
“nah,” the taller boy says, knowing that while his friend definitely likes you, he’s slower and shyer when it comes to romantic feelings. “give it two months. and that’s if we’re lucky.”
you never considered yourself to be a lucky person, although luck seemed to be on your side when you found this apartment complex in the first place, so you can’t say you’ve been cursed with terrible luck.
but it’s certainly how you feeling right now, in the dead of a january snowstorm and one of the only apartments in the complex with absolutely no power.
“it could be a problem with your breaker in particular,” the maintenance man said over the phone, “someone could come look at it tomorrow.”
but no power meant no heat despite the negative temperatures outside, all of your freshly cooked food rotting spoiled and no means of communicating with your cell phone currently on 1%.
“tomorrow?” you squeak, understanding the horrific conditions outside are making their job difficult but also not wanting to freeze to death. “would it be possible if someone could come-”
your phone light shines on your face before it promptly fades to black and dies, the only source of illumination in your dark apartment now gone as well.
you let out a sigh as you resist the urge to scream, attempting to move around your apartment without impaling your body parts.
you’re able to light the three wick candle on your table with little to no problems, collecting all the blankets and fuzzy socks you can find and placing them on your couch.
you have a long, cold night ahead of you with nothing to do but an attempt at rereading some old books and forcing yourself to sleep.
but it’s then, right before you sit down, that you remember all of the food in your fridge.
you used every last bit of your ingredients for this week’s meal prep, knowing that if you it goes bad, you’re not gonna have that much around the house until next week’s trip to the grocery store.
you guess that’s on you, though, foolishly forgetting to not go to the food store before a massive winter storm.
you notice a faint stream of light coming from under your front door on your journey to the kitchen, lips pursing to the side before you open it up with a squeak.
you peek over at yunho’s door besides yours to see light coming from underneath his - so he didn’t lose power it seems, the lucky bastard.
it takes you just as long to convince yourself to go over and ask if you can store the food in his fridge as it does to pack it all up into two containers, not wanting to inconvenience yunho and his storage any further than you are by asking.
you reluctantly knock on his door with the two containers in hand, forgetting you already have on about three layers due to your freezing apartment.
a smile immediately lights up his face when he sees you standing outside his door, small and cute and bundled up like you’re ready to brave the snow storm outside.
“hi, y/n,” he smiles, noticing the two containers of food in your hand.
“hi, yunho i’m sorry for bothering you,” you begin apologetically, a slight grimace on your face as you prepare yourself to ask him for a favor.
“i lost power for the night and just meal prepped the rest of my food for the week yesterday so would you be able to keep this in your fridge for me?” you get out quickly, for some reason feeling panicked and grimy.
“someone’s gonna come fix it tomorrow but when i tried to ask someone to come tonight, my phone died and now i just don’t want this to go to waste because i stupidly forgot to-”
“hey, hey, relax,” yunho says calmingly, his voice all kinds of sweet and soft as he takes the food from your hands immediately. “of course, y/n, no problem.”
you smile at him gratefully, slightly embarrassed by the desperation in your tone.
“thank you, i promise i’ll be back tomorrow to pick it up. i just don’t want everything rotting overnight.”
the wind howling outside causes both your eyes to widen, a sinking suspicion coming over him after he hears the horribly stormy conditions outside.
“wait... does that mean you have no heat?”
“no, i found a lot of blankets and fuzzy socks though,” you chuckle out humorlessly, gesturing down to your ridiculously layered outfit and purple socks. “also found some candles so as long as my food is taken care of, i don’t think it’ll be that-”
“stay with me, are you crazy,” he says, his eyes looking at you in disbelief. “you can’t sit there in the dark and freezing cold all night!”
“it’s okay, yunho, really,” you quickly insist, about ready to take off and into your apartment because you know how overwhelmingly nice your neighbor is. “i just didn’t want my food for the week to go to-”
“y/n, please,” he begs, the soft, sympathetic look in his eyes tugging at your heart. “it’s too cold tonight. even with blankets, you’ll be freezing. and your phone died, that’s dangerous.”
a small, touched smile covers your face, heart warming at how kind and thoughtful this man is - how could you not have the biggest crush on him still?
you thought after a few weeks that you’d be over it but he just makes it harder and harder the more you get to know him.
“i don’t wanna intrude,” you weakly protest, the heat coming from his apartment far too tempting right now.
“you’re not, i’m inviting you,” he says, dragging you in by the sleeve of your sweater and leave no room for protest.
he places the food back in your hold before his large hand rests on the open front door, peeking his head into the hallway to see your door still open.
you watch as he walks into the hallway before quickly reappearing a few seconds later, the sound of your apartment door closing echoing through the hallway.
“don’t worry,” he hums, smiling at you as he walks back into his apartment and closes the door. “i blew out your candle.”
you let out a soft, amused giggle as you look at the boy, his sweet smile mirroring yours as he takes back the food and walks toward the fridge.
“got any 4s?”
“go fish.”
“got any 7s?”
“go fish.”
“got any aces?”
“go fish.”
“okay, one of us has to be lying!” you squeal from the other side of the coffee table, yunho throwing his head back in laughter at your competitive, feisty side.
he couldn’t help but smile at the way your eyes lit up when you saw the pack of cards on his table, leftover from poker night with the san, mingi and wooyoung that rid him of his last $50.
his smile only grew wider when you told him the one family tradition you had, at least before the age of ten, was to play go fish - especially on nights when the electricity was turned off, although you left that part out.
in all your experience of playing go fish, however, you’d never seen a game go on for this long.
“i’m not, i swear!”
“so you’re telling me the one four i need is in that deck?” you ask, not even realizing you outed yourself until he throws you a wide-eyed, playful look. there’s a silent stare-off, able to hear a pin drop in his apartment.
your eyes are roaming each other carefully before down to the deck in complete ignorance of who’s turn it is to go.
you let out a squeal when chaos erupts afterward, the two of you frantically grabbing at the cards. you make a mess over the table as everything goes flying off, a melodic giggle leaving your mouth nearly causing him to stop his futile attempts at grabbing the next card.
it should be considered unsportsmanlike, really, for you to unknowingly use your cute giggle and wide, happy eyes against him.
you just get even happier when you grab at the desired card, flipping it over and letting out a squeal when you’re lucky enough to flip over the last remaining four in the deck.
“i got it!” you squeal happily, yunho at a terrible loss as he sees all your matches lined up in front of you. he can’t even be sad about it though, accepting defeat as he throws down his cards.
“that was probably the longest game of go fish ever,” he says, stretching out his long arms; you guys had played several rounds but that one had to have lasted over forty five minutes.
probably because you two kept getting distracted, babbling about stories of friends and family or the real pet fish yunho won at a fair that lived for three and a half years.
“i know right,” you giggle, picking up the cards from the floor as you start to tidy up his house. you ignore his pleas to leave it alone and let him clean up instead, your head shaking as you continue to clean the mess you helped make.
you hand him the deck a card a few moments later, your fingers grazing as he takes them from his hand.
“thanks,” he smiles at you, his eyes roaming your slightly flushed face.
he’s never had you in his apartment for longer than ten minutes, never had you so close to him with your bright smile and cute giggle. it’s proving to be very trying for him already, trying to keep you entertained and himself distracted so he doesn’t do something, or say something, he regrets.
a silence hangs in the air as you look up at from your spot on the couch, about to make a comment about something, anything, when your stomach decides to do it for you in the form of a growl.
it’s embarrassing and makes an awkward giggle leave your mouth, a handsome smirk crossing his face as his eyebrow quirks up playfully.
“hungry?”
“just for a snack,” you mumble shyly, in disbelief you’re still hungry after your left over pizza. “i ate about four slices of pizza before.”
he lets out a low chuckle as he rises to his feet, sock-covered feet padding over to see kitchen where he holds up a big tub of chocolate chip cookie dough.
“wanna make cookies? i was prepared for the storm tonight, unlike some of us.”
you’re so excited at the prospect of making cookies that you ignore his snide, teasing comment, letting out a happy gasp as you rush over to him.
the two of you stand side-by-side as you prep the oven and cookies, rolling the cold dough between your hands. he makes the cookies a lot bigger than yours, an obvious difference in who made which ones on the baking sheet.
“they kind of look like us,” he remarks playfully, a loud giggle leaving your mouth as you poke his arm.
you two linger in the kitchen once the cookies are in the oven, sharing shy smiles and softly spoken words with the scent of chocolate and warmth in the air.
you thank him again for allowing you to stay in his warm house for the night, grateful for his ample food and running refrigerator.
“it’s kind of crazy since we’re literal neighbors,” you speak aloud, your hip leant against the cabinets. “i didn’t even know that could happen.”
“i know, right,” he chuckles, his smile and eyes getting softer as he looks down at you. “but i’m happy you decided to stay. i wouldn’t want you there alone in the dark and cold.”
and perhaps that’s the bare minimum. that someone wouldn’t want their neighbor, someone considered an acquaintance or even a friend, to be without heat or food in a snowstorm.
but to you, it’s something you’ve never had before.
you’d spent far too many nights cold and hungry where nobody cared if that was the case. it’s why you so often escaped to the rooftop, away from the loud voices and looming presences that made living there just a little too difficult.
it’s why you blurt out, “why?” not meaning to sound as brash and sudden as you do but it’s just something that gets to you sometimes. how kind and thoughtful and genuinely good jeong yunho is.
his eyebrows pull together but he’s still wearing a soft smile, his body inching just a little bit closer to you.
“what do you mean why?” he questions, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy. “why didn’t i let you freeze to death?”
he tries to keep his tone light and teasing but feels like it falls flat when you give him a sad smile. he thinks it would’ve fooled anyone else, a person who basically hadn’t fallen in love with your smile in five months, but it doesn’t fool him.
he doesn’t know what or why something is bothering you, how your mood seemed to change after his reassurance, but he just wants to make sure, above all, that you’re okay and comfortable.
he doesn’t realize how close his body is to yours until you’re looking up at him, your head just meeting the top of his chest in a way that makes him wanna protect you even more.
his eyes roam every part of your face, wondering just how warm your skin is or if your hair is as soft as it looks.
this would probably be the perfect time to confess his feelings to you.
to tell you that he wanted you over tonight because he likes you. that he’s really, really come to like you over these past few months of getting to know you and he wants to know you more.
he wants to take you on a date and show you off to the world and maybe one day, if things go well, introduce you as his neighbor turned girlfriend.
he wants to make sure you’re never cold or alone in your apartment again, that you know you could always come to him for anything whether it be reassurance or an egg for pumpkin bread.
but instead, he gives a slightly less intense, cheesy version. for now.
“you’re my favorite neighbor,” he begins quietly, not quite the confession he wants to make right now but the one he settles on. there’s an aroma of cookies and heat around you as you stare up at him, eyes so wide and curious, he has to swallow down a second rushed out, bumbling confession.
“i didn’t want anything happening to you, especially when i’m right here to make sure you’re safe.”
safety is always what you craved. safety and security and warmth, even if just for a fleeting moment.
and your fleeting moment proved to be tonight.
the ding of the oven as you both got the cookies out silently, pulled from a moment you both felt forming but was quickly pulled away from. you ate the gooey chocolate with quiet hums of “mmms,” and “ahhs,” softly padding your way over to his couch when he suggested watching a movie.
he sat on one end and you sat on the other, before your bodies eventually inched closer and closer to share a light blue throw blanket in the middle of the movie.
“this is really nice,” you comment as you touched the fabric, observing the intricate stitching on the soft blanket.
“yeah? my mom made it for me actually,” he tells you, watching closely as you play with the blanket between your fingers. he wants to reach out and just hold your hand, feel your smaller one in his and see just how much they fit.
“when i first moved out, she was slightly distraught,” he chuckles out, remembering the dramatics that were his mom’s tears and demands to visit once a week. “i was the first one to move out and she didn’t know what to make of it. i swear she brought me over food every day for the first six months.”
your heart feels heavy as you hear him talk, not only because of the fond moments between parent and child but because of the love in his eyes as he talks about it.
how, even though he’s complaining about it, it’s obvious there’s a love and affection there that you, yourself, could never understand or reciprocate in your own life.
“that’s really sweet,” you comment, his gaze catching that sad smile once again.
it causes his heart to drop, a slight sinking feeling in his stomach as he tries to understand what made you that way. are you uncomfortable here with him, just a few inches away from each other under the shared blanket?
or is it something more, the topic of conversation regarding parents and living alone and all things deeper and more personal.
“me and my parents were never really closed,” you find yourself saying.
you don’t even mean to blurt out the words but it’s like one second it’s silent and then the next, it’s not.
the next you’re telling him about how you couldn’t wait to get out. how fighting and loneliness and the cold was a big part of your life growing up, how you got so used to it, it’s taken you a while to adjust to a normal life.
you’re still trying to adjust to a normal life, honestly.
“i don’t know why i just told you all of that,” you confess awkwardly, the blush on your cheeks causing his heart to soar in chest - he likes you, he really really likes you and now he won’t ever be able to let go of these feelings.
“but... i just wanna thank you,” you tell him, embarrassed that you somehow managed to make the conversation and vibe like this. “you and san and wooyoung and mingi made the adjustment a lot easier for me. but you, especially.”
“oh? with all my eggs and sugar?”
you let out a soft giggle as some of your anxiety eases, your eyes flicking toward his to see, despite his teasing, his eyes are 100% serious and locked on you.
“yes, definitely that,” you smile, biting down on your lip as you look back down on the blanket.
“but amongst other things too. it was funny meeting you on the rooftop, actually, because that’s always where i felt most comfortable. i’d always escape there but i’d be alone. it was nice... it’s been nice having someone, i guess.”
it feels like you could just about die from embarrassment, oversharing with the most handsome man you’ve developed a massive crush on about your tragic tales of a broken home and pretentious love for the roof.
but then he inches just a bit closer to you, placing his hand atop yours on his mother’s soft blanket, and just smiles at you. everything about him warm and soft and sweet, making you feel the safest and coziest you’ve ever felt in your life.
“if you’ll keep allowing me up there, i promise i’ll come every time,” he promises softly, the pounding in your chest and butterflies in your stomach overwhelming you to the severest degree.
your cheeks are burning and you’re positive he can feel the frantic beating in your chest but you try to keep it together. smile at him with a a breathy little giggle, tell him that while you love that he’s asking, you have no control over who does and doesn’t go on the roof.
he lets out a soft chuckle as he pinches your arm gently, the hand on your arm slowly falling down until your fingers are just grazing.
closer and closer and closer until they’re locked around one another, both of you eternally grateful for the lights being off because of the burning on your cheeks.
he wakes up around 2 a.m. to the bright tv blasting, a heavy ache in his bladder and your head on his shoulder.
it takes him a moment to remember where he is and what’s going on around him, the events of the night quickly swarming back when he peeks down at your sleeping face.
you look so peaceful and at ease in your sleep, eyelashes brushing against your cheeks and your lips pressed into a firm line.
he wanted to kiss you for half the night, every time you giggled or moved closer to him or asked him a question about the movie getting distracted by your lips or pink cheeks.
he felt an immense amount of happiness at the fact you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him, that you were still here beside him and so comfortably sleeping against him.
told him things about your life and family that make him wanna be there for you even more now.
he doesn’t wanna move, he doesn’t think even the snowstorm crashing through his apartment could get him to tear himself away from you, but the embarrassment of pissing his pants right beside you on this couch outweighs everything.
his eyes roam your pretty, peaceful face on more time, moving a stray piece of hair with his long fingers and watching as you stir. press yourself further into his hand and let out the quietest of groans, he has to stop himself from proclaiming his undying love for you on the spot.
it only gets worse when he remembers he gave you his clothes to wear. noticing just before the movie ended, you were picking at your leggings that stuck to your skin uncomfortably.
“do you want a change of clothes?” he had asked, noticing your discomfort and only wanting a little bit to see how much his shirts engulfed you. “i have sweatpants and a clean t-shirt sitting in my dryer right now.”
you took up his offer for two reasons: your leggings were sticking to your ass and there was nothing you wanted more than to wear this man’s clothes. feel the soft material on your skin and have his manly, teakwood scent surround your very being.
but right now, as he stares down at you and attempts to keep you as comfortable as possible, it feels as if this might’ve been too much for him.
seeing you wrapped up in his clothes and on his couch so comfortably, moving your smaller body so you’re laid out on the cushions and resting your head on the pillow.
your eyes pop open, confused and in a daze, as you look around at the unfamiliar surroundings and sound of movement. you smile softly when you see yunho’s sleepy, pink face at face-level with you, his large body knelt down beside you on the couch.
“sorry for waking you,” he whispered into the dark, the tv and snow reflecting outside the only source of light. “i had to pee and wanted to make you comfortable.”
“it’s okay, thank you,” you mumble, stretching out your arms when you realize the sleeves are well past your hands. “forgot i changed into your clothes.”
“yeah,” he chuckles lightly, not being able to help the way his eyes roam over you.
even sleepy in the dark and the daze that you’re in, you’re able to see the slightest bit of hunger in his eyes. the way they trail over your body slowly and surely, taking in the way his shirt engulfs your figure and looks against your skin.
how if you stood up, he’d see the way the pants are baggy and making your smaller figure looking even more short and petite and cute.
it makes your stomach flip and swoop uncontrollably, your own eyes staring at his lips and picturing what they’d feel like on yours.
“i hope that’s okay. they’re a little big on you.”
you let out a soft, quiet giggle, adjusting your head on the pillow so you’re staring up at him even closer.
“it’s okay,” you assure, tongue peeking out to lick at your dry, hopefully not crusty lips. “i like it. i like them.”
it takes everything in him not to let out some sort of growl, throw all of his sweet and nice boy caution to the wind and confess to you how much he likes them too.
how much he likes seeing you in them and how much more (or less) he wants to see you in them.
but because the time isn’t right, because he knows for sure the time isn’t right and he wants something a lot more pure and honest with you, he doesn’t say anything.
he wishes you a goodnight after a nearly ten-minute bickering fest back and forth, yunho offering you his bed three times before you eventually flipped over and put your back to him.
he let out a deep chuckle as he ran his hand through your hair instinctively, smoothing out the parts that stuck up in your sleep, before bidding you one final goodnight.
it was around 10:00 when he woke to the smell of bacon, eggs and pumpkin bread. walking out of his bedroom to see you there still clad in his clothes and your hair in a messy bun.
you jumped when you noticed his presence perched against the doorframe, a wide smile on his face when you let out the softest but harshest of curses.
“what’s all this?”
“i made you breakfast. and your very own loaf of pumpkin bread.”
a soft smile covers his face when instead of looking over the food that looks and smells delicious, he looks at you. standing there smiley and sweet, in clothes that morph your body and make you smell like him.
he feels grateful for the extra bit of counter space he has when he places a hand on your waist, lifting you off your feet with ease and plopping you right down on the granite.
your eyes are wide and your heart is racing but you’re staring right at him, happiness and excitement swelling in your chest when you catch the look in his eyes - you thought you made it up last night in a dream-like daze but you’re still seeing it right now.
a certain kind of softness mixed with desire and fondness, the way his eyes take in every part of your face before finally landing on your lips. the very same way you dreamed of him last night, with his lips against yours and a sweet smile on his face.
“thank you, neighbor,” he mumbles with a smile, voice low and deep and making your stomach swoop dangerously. “did i mention you were my favorite?”
“you might’ve,” you respond breathlessly, all too aware of the way he’s leaning in closer and closer until you’re pushed flush against the cabinets.
his large body is covering yours but he doesn’t make any moves until you do, your bodies naturally drifting closer and closer together until, finally, you’re the one to do it.
press your lips against his so so hesitantly, scared and unfamiliar about making the first move but wanting him to know you wanted to kiss him - you needed to kiss him, or you would’ve gone crazy.
he smiles against your lips as he deepens the kiss, keeping you perched right on the counter as his hands rest on the sides of your legs. he doesn’t make any moves to touch you further or deepen the kiss, allowing it to be sweet and soft and as chaste as could be.
you both pull back and stare at each other with soft smiles and pink cheeks, silence lingering between the both of you before you let out soft chuckles at the same time.
“do you kiss all your neighbors?” you finally ask, fighting the smirk threatening to make it’s way on your face. “or just your favorite ones?”
“just one,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose gently and feeling his heart jump when you smile widely at him. “just you.”
it’s 2:00 on the snowy rooftop and bright summer sun when you hear the heavy metal door squeak open, turning around to see your handsome, smiley neighbor coming toward you with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand.
you take it from him with a soft “thank you,” pressing up on your toes to peck a sweet, soft kiss to his cheek.
it was only fitting that you had your first date where you two first met, shy smiles and nervous jitters turned soft pecks and loud giggles as you got to know the sweet, handsome neighbor you just knew you were gonna fall for.
tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii
#happy bday mr yunho <3#this was supposed to be 3k jdvkkvd#yunho#yunho fluff#ateez#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#yunho scenarios#yunho imagines
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What sugar Daddy’s want to see their darling wear (fancy event addition) Part one
HOLY SMOKES this post took way long to make, kept having to reopen the draft and loose data. guess my laptop really doesn’t like vogue’s website.
Also, this is mostly for Femme! Sugar babies, i will make a masc! post if i get good references/ideas for it.
Also also, this is just part 5 charachters now, ill have another post for the other sugar daddies
Enjoy!
Putting this under a readmore because its LONG:
Abbacchio: Something that isn’t over the top, but still a flare of drama. Obviously, he has a love for the dark, macabre, and gothic. Simple neutral colors are his favorite.
Bruno: He loves flowy outfits, with soft and interesting textures. They look best blowing in the wind on his boat, and there’s an element of sex appeal, at the possibility of an accidental “slip” of skin. He also has a thing for whites, and smaller patterns
Mista: He has expensive tastes, and likes to see avant garde pieces that push boundaries. However, he also likes it when darling wears things they can dance in; Mista’s a man who appreciates function in an ensemble. Also LOVES jewelry, and statement pieces with lots of metals.
Narancia: Cares very little about fashion, so he has a hard time articulating his tastes. If he had to be specific, he’d probably either pick vintage or classic looks, because they most closely resemble what his mom used to wear. He also likes bright, happy colors, so lots of neons and bold patterns. Bonus if the fabrics are soft and fun to play with. He gets fidgety.
Fugo: Minimalist, classical looks. Simple clothing, but high quality that lasts a while. Probably has a thing for the “librarian” style, or suits. He hates athleisure and sweatpants out of the house- he thinks it's tacky. It’s also worth noting Fugo buys and wears silk pajamas, so he doesn’t even own sweatpants.
Trish: She has a deep love for France, and that extends to her style preferences. A fan of the waifish style, and little black dresses. Also likes sparkly, eye-catching outfits, as that’s what she wears while she performs. She’s also the type to have costume changes, and might have darling do the same. Outfits she’s able to tell a story with, or convey a theme are important too.
Giorno: His fashion style has been developed from his modeling career, so he might have preferences for new upcoming indie brands, or brands he’s worked with before. Obviously, his love for plants and animals extends to his fashion style, so he likes darling in flowery pastel dresses. Also has a preference for gold over other metals.
Proscuitto: It’s a bit hard to pinpoint what he wants darling to wear, because it often depends on what darling looks like. To put it simply, he likes outfits that flatter darlings body type, skin tone, hair and eye color etc. Whatever darling looks like, however, he will make sure they look their best. If he had to pin down one particular type, he likes clingy draped gowns that show of darling’s figure, but he’s flexible, and always experimenting with styles. One thing darling’s clothes MUST BE, however, is well made. Prosciutto will examine each piece with a magnifying class, and has incredibly high standards. He also HATES fast fashion for many good reasons, so darling’s wardrobe will be 100% name brand, if not designer.
Pesci: Pesci specifically avoided the fashion industry, and has no interest in telling darling what to wear, or how to dress.�� If he had to pick, he thinks poofy dresses and shoulders are cute, and likes fun colors and prints, but honestly he’ll trust darling to pick their outfits themselves.
Formaggio: Loves sexy cutout dresses, see through materials-definitely prefers a “sexy” style. He also has a thing for heels, the higher and thinner, the better. If he had his way, darling would wear red bottom stilettos everyday. Also, sequins are cool, but no glue on glitter. It always comes off so easily and gets everywhere, it's really annoying!
Illuso: Has a deep love for the unusual, avant garde fashion. Every outfit should have a message, he thinks, and will use this philosophy on darling. He likes finding indie newcomer brands, and unusual textures and shapes. Also, he has a thing for masks/face wear.
Melone: Obviously prefers a nude partner, but he is surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion and style. He will often consult color theory, and size/shape guides for darling, and dress based on that. He does have a thing for different textures-leather, lace, tulle, etc. He likes having an excuse to touch darling. And obviously, has a thing for skin tight clothing, and cut outs. Also thinks hosiery is very classy and sexy, as well as high heels.
Ghiacchio: Has a thing for “cute” styles: puffy sleeves, over-sized shirts, short skirts or shorts, boots and knee highs. He likes cool colors, like white, blue, purple, green. Also has a thing for stripes, he can’t explain it but he finds it adorable
Risotto: Another one who prefers to let darling choose their own outfits, only because he knows what it’s like when someone makes you dress how you don't want to. However, if darling insists, he does have preferences. He likes blacks and pastels combined, he thinks they look pretty side by side. He also prefers silver jewelry to gold, and has a thing for piercings. Anything that accentuates Darling’s size difference (there’s no way you’re taller than Risotto) really gets him going. Lacing, like a corset, is also very attractive to him, and boning/ shaping.
Doppio: He likes anything innocent and cute. Lovely pastels, soft textures, delicate lace. Pleated skirts are also cute to him, as well as bows. Also has a soft spot for the classic patterns: plaid, stripes, houndstooth, checkers...
Diavolo: on the rare occasion Diavolo might take one of his pet Darlings out, he’ll probably go the standard sexy route. A red satin strapless mini dress, a floor length glittery black gown; won’t stand out among the crowd, but shows off his darling's body. He likes low cut and backless dresses too, because he’s shallow.
#jjba#imagines#mine#sugar daddy!au#sugar daddy imagines#this took entirely too long#but i really like fashion so#also i was gonna include their fav fashion icons and designers#but im too tired to now
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Hiya! Since I really adored what you did with my last request I was wondering if I could send through another prompt for a Farah dowling x female reader where Farah and Queen Luna have this sort of unspoken but very clear competition for readers heart and when Farah sees what she thinks to be queen Luna inching towards the finish line she gets envious/cold but really Farah had readers heart all along❤️
Thank you so much by the way. I really appreciate what you do. Sending peace and love and happiness your way xx.
Hi there! Sorry this took a bit, I rewrote it a couple of times. But I love the prompt! I hope you enjoy 🖤
Send me an ask or a message to request a fic. Search my blog for "prompts" to see lists of prompt ideas.
A/N: honestly unless explicitly stated, just assume that in all my fics, the season one ending that we don't talk about didn't happen. Farah's not even napping, she's still alive and awake and being her wonderful self.
To Find Your Truth
Since the Alfean battle with the Burned Ones, Solaria had indeed dispatched a troop of soldiers to be permanently stationed at the school. Between that and the continual growth of Alfea, it soon became clear that a new position would be needed to coordinate the Alfean and Royal schedules. You had been hired in that position, working as a liaison between Farah and Luna, meaning that you worked very closely with the both of them. You’d been a little overwhelmed by your work at first, working not just with the Headmistress of a powerful school and the Queen of the entire realm, but with two of the most powerful fairies – if not the two most powerful fairies in the realm – but Farah and Luna had both made you feel comfortable in your work.
The women were very different. Farah was quiet and calm, her power cool and still under her pristine surface – but undeniably there. Luna, however, was like a fire, sharp and calculating, her power exuding from her and filling every room she entered, even if it was superficially masked in sweet pastels and warm light. You liked them both, despite the differences, and whatever rumors you heard about them.
And they liked you too. Farah often offered you sweet smiles that she didn’t give to everyone, and your meetings with her would sometimes drift into personal conversation, especially if you had them over lunch together. Luna too made her affection for you known, soft touches on your arm that lingered just a moment longer than a friendly touch would, or heartfelt remarks on how she’d never be able to function without you, all of which never failed to make you blush.
You weren’t quite sure when it became a competition between the two of them. It might have happened the day when Luna astral projected into your office, interrupting a lunch meeting with Farah that had gone long with conversation. You’d both been laughing with Luna’s form had appeared, Farah’s eyes bright with affection as she gazed at you fondly, and although you’d both become entirely professional when Luna appeared, you knew she’d seen the way you looked at each other just as clearly as you’d seen the possessive gleam in her eye.
Though your meeting with Luna after that had gone smoothly, as well as all of your other meetings, you could sense that tension in both of the women, like they both had something to prove.
Or more likely, you realized, like they were both trying to win your heart.
Luna became even more bold with her gentle touches, even going so far as to lay a hand on your cheek one night, smiling softly before she retreated and wished you goodnight, offering you a room in the castle if you didn’t want to make the trip back to Alfea. Even Farah, as composed as she was, was more forward in her advances, eyes flicking to your lips when she paid you compliments, or when you rolled your neck to try and ease a headache, she would merely reach out and touch two fingers to your temple, the pain melting away in seconds.
You could admit that you liked the advances of both of them women, feeling as though you could preen under their attentions. Not only did you have Farah — a legendary fairy in her own right — showing you affection, but the Queen of Solaria as well, making you feel like the star of a period piece, your two handsome, wealthy suitors courting you in their attempts to win your hand. You were content with the flirting and the fantasies of both women, not thinking much about where relationships with either of them would go in fear of complicating things. But one afternoon in your office at Alfea, you realized you’d have to decide just where your heart lay.
Instead of her normal astral projecting, Luna had come to your office in person, needing to update her calendar for you and reconcile her schedule with Farah’s and find time for their combined meetings.
“My quarterly inspection of the troop’s preparations here at Alfea needs to happen in the next couple of weeks — hopefully those can drop to biannual next year — Farah will need to be present for that. It will take an afternoon, when can I make that happen?”
You flipped through the large planner on your desk, Farah’s meetings written in blue, Luna’s in red. “Both you and Ms. Dowling have a free afternoon in two weeks on a Friday — though you have an event that night, ma’am, that you’ll have to—”
“Please,” Luna interrupted with a smile, “how many times have I told you to call me Luna?”
You smiled back. “Too many to count… Luna.” It still felt odd to use the Queen’s given name, but her self satisfied smile as she sat back in her chair did make the odd feeling worth it.
“Good,” she praised. “Now, that’s the Benefactor’s Gala, correct? I’ll only need to make a short appearance and give a speech towards the end, so I’ll have plenty of time to dress. Though—” she came around your desk to study the planner herself, standing so close that you could smell her sweet perfume, “that lunch meeting may run long.” She dropped to her elbows on your desk, hips, clad in a dusky rose pencil skirt, cocked in a tantalizing fashion near your head, and you had to fix your eyes pointedly on your planner. “What about this Wednesday here?”
You went back and forth for a while, pencilling in various events. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh as you wrote the last one, feeling your back ache with the strain of both the work and of feigning nonchalance with Luna’s body so near to yours.
Luna seemed to feel the same, straightening to roll her shoulders, but then surprised you by perching on the arm of your chair, somehow looking effortlessly graceful as she crossed her legs, leaving her balanced on the toe of one of her stilettos. “A queen’s work is never done, hm?”
You laughed softly, not letting your eyes linger on the smooth expanse of her legs. “You wouldn’t be a very good Queen if it was.”
Luna laughed too, rich and smooth, and she looked down at you for a long moment before reaching out and tracing the line of your jaw with one finger. “Lucky I have you, then. To help keep me a good Queen.”
You felt yourself blush, jaw tingling where Luna had touched you. You felt your eyes drift to her lips unconsciously, tracing the smooth, sharp lines. Those lips curved into a smirk, and you blushed further, eyes snapping up to meet Luna’s again, who’s glinted with mirth. She traced the line of your jaw again, slower this time, her hand coming to cup your cheek as her eyes flicked over your features, staring as though she was memorizing you.
Lighting zipped in your stomach when you thought you saw Luna lean towards you, just an inch, but your breath caught, eyes flicking to her lips again as she stroked your cheekbone with her thumb.
A clearing of a throat came from the doorway making you spring back, back hitting the arm of your chair. You blushed even further, your cheeks on fire as you tried to get as far away from Luna as possible, who for her part kept her composure, still perched comfortably on the arm of your chair as she stared at Farah in challenge.
“Farah,” you said, trying to pretend Luna wasn’t there, which was difficult considering where she sat. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize we had a meeting today.”
“We didn’t,” Farah said smoothly, still staring cooly at Luna. Her gaze shifted to you then, still cold, and you felt your stomach drop. “I thought I’d stop by to see if you were still here. But if you’re otherwise occupied…” she trailed off, looking at Luna again, and your blush which had started to recede came back in full force, feeling like a student she was disciplining.
“No worries, Farah,” Luna said brightly, looking smug as she stood from her perch. “I should be going anyway.” She turned to you then, giving you a radiant smile. “Thank you for all of your help, dear. You are truly a blessing.” She gave you a wink and then headed for the door, passing closer to Farah than was strictly necessary, and you thought Farah’s hackles would have raised if she had any.
A horribly awkward silence fell over the two of you, and you picked at the edge of your desk, unable to meet Farah’s eyes. She cleared her throat again and you then met her eyes, fighting what felt like the permanent blush in your cheeks.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Farah said softly.
“No, no, it wasn’t interrupting,” you insisted, still feeling like you’d done something wrong, but why? There wasn’t anything owed between you, but still you felt like you’d been caught. “Is there, ah, something I can help you with?”
Farah opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but then closed it, smiling at you. It was a warmer smile than before, but it still didn’t reach her eyes, and you felt your stomach drop again. “No, it was nothing. Have a good night.”
And she turned and left, leaving you alone and still blushing.
Why did you feel so horrible? It was a little embarrassing to be caught nearly kissing the Queen in your office with the door open, but the waves of shame and regret rolling through you seemed unwarranted. You and Luna were both adults, as was Farah, and each was entitled to their fun.
Deep down you knew why, and the longer you thought about it, the more sure you were. Flirting with Luna was fun, sure, but with Farah it was something more. With Farah, it was a beginning, the promise of something more, a calling from somewhere in your soul that told you there was something there, something that could be beautiful if you both just took a chance.
You were in love with Farah Dowling. You’d been a fool to not see it for so long, but now that you did it was undeniable, and you couldn’t bear not to tell her, for her to think a moment longer that you didn’t feel for her the way she must feel for you.
It was late now, and after finding her office empty you headed towards Farah’s cottage, not wanting to wait until the morning to find her. As you waited at her door, you thought about what you’d say, rehearsed several confessions, but when the door opened and Farah stood there, hair loosely braided and face bare of makeup, all words left your head.
“Can I come in?” you asked after a long moment, and Farah nodded, stepping aside.
You were both silent again, Farah obviously waiting for you to start as she moved around you into the living room.
“I, uh, wanted to apologize for… earlier,” you started hesitantly, unsure how receptive Farah would be.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. You and Luna are… close. You shouldn’t have to hide that.”
Her words were kind, but Farah held something back, something in her eyes that belied more hurt than she let on. Sorrow pulled at your chest, and you had to clench your fists to keep from going to her to comfort.
“No, that wouldn’t be something to hide, but I meant that… I just wanted to clarify— and what I wanted to apologize for—“ Hell with it, nothing sounded right but the truth. “I’m in love with you,” you blurted, and Farah’s head popped up, staring at you in surprise.
“I love you,” you continued, “and I need you to know that, because what I’m really trying to apologize for is that it took me nearly kissing Luna to realize it myself. I think my heart has always belonged to you, Farah, and I’m sorry that I played this game for so long when I could have been with you.”
You stopped, taking a deep breath and studying Farah. She looked at you cautiously but otherwise unreadable, and for a moment you thought you’d misread her attraction to you, utterly destroying whatever friendly relationship you had.
And then she smiled. Slowly, but it was a real one, and it lit up her eyes so that you couldn’t help but smile yourself.
“I—“ Farah started, and then trailed off, still smiling. And then, deciding better of words, she closed the gap between you in three steps, took you into her arms, and kissed you.
Luna’s touch had been thrilling, exciting, but Farah’s touch, oh, Farah’s touch felt like coming home. You leaned into her, gripping her waist to keep yourself upright as you melted into the kiss, feeling her warm and soft underneath you. Your head swam with dizzying happiness, feeling like a puzzle whose last piece had just clicked into place — full and complete and radiantly beautiful. You could nearly feel Farah pulsing with the same happiness as she kissed you, making a small noise against your mouth, to which you sighed and opened your mouth to her, tasting her sweet and tender on your tongue.
You stayed close when the kiss ended, Farah running her hands lightly up and down your back, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
You smiled, feeling as though you might overflow with happiness, and bumped your nose with hers. “Me too. Even if it took me a while to realize how deeply I felt, I always knew I wanted to kiss you.”
Farah smiled again and then gripped your hips, pulling you closer to her. “I thought, when I saw you and Luna, that I’d waited too long to make the depth of my feelings known. I’m sorry for how brisk I was earlier.”
You shook your head, leaning your forehead against Farah’s. “Thank you. Though I can’t blame you. I don’t know how I would have reacted, in your position, though I know I wouldn’t have liked it.”
“It was certainly a shock,” Farah said, and then huffed out a laugh, pulling your hips closer to her. “I’d been coming to ask you to dinner tonight. Not just as colleagues, but as… friends. Maybe something more. Then seeing you together, I… jealous is too weak a word to describe what I felt.” She shook her head then like she tried to banish the thought, and squeezed your hips gently. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She said it simply enough, but the weight behind her words had you wrapping your arms around her neck. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and no one else I’d rather be with. I mean that.”
Farah let out a soft, contented sigh, and gently cupped your cheeks before kissing you again, filling you with light and love, speaking just as clearly with her kiss as though she’d spoken it in your mind.
I love you, too.
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Green (Marco Rose imagine)
“You are more than welcome to kiss whomever you want.” (for you know who you are)
Her least favourite colour is green — always was and always will be.
Whether bright or dark, pastel shades or murky, it never matched with her complexion or her hair colour, but as she watches a certain someone, and the way he flirts his evening away, she adds yet another reason to why she hates the colour, for his actions make her greener than the Christmas garland that decorates the party venue; they make her greener than the Grinch itself.
Narrowing her eyebrows, she lifts up the glass filled with crimson red — not her favourite, but she welcomes the tart taste anway as she once again, willingly or unwillingly, darts her eyes to where he is talking to a familiar face from the office next to hers.
Who does he think he is?
She can feel the nasty emotion taking over her, spreading like a summer wildfire, and she cannot help but despise how her jaw clenches at the sight. Deep down, she knows that she is acting foolish, and perhaps being childish because she has never been the jealous type, but watching him pay attention to other women, charming them effortlessly, making them laugh — all of it causes the green monster inside of her to stir out of its deep slumber.
Get over it. He isn’t yours in the first place.
Entangled in her dark bed sheets, and only moments after he satisfied his moment of desire and her desperation to be close to another human being, she told him that labels weren’t something she was looking for, and he nodded, agreeing with her, setting the event aside like a gentleman that he was, and wrapping their little secret in the veil of professionalism they maintained at work — both convinced that it won’t happen again.
But it did happen again, and not only once, and despite not wanting to, she found herself starting to feel a certain type of possessiveness over the man in a fine-tailored, Salvatore Ferragamo suit, that dared to be a constant thought on her mind.
“You are… greener than the Grinch itself,” her friend and colleague whispers in her ear as she sits down in the empty chair next to her — a glass of white wine in her hand.
With a fake smile, she tears her gaze away from where she had been expecting her fingernails and the expensive manicure she has gotten for the occasion, glancing briefly towards Marco and the pretty blonde from the accounting before looking back at her friend. “I am not.”
“The more you keep denying it, the less convincing you sound,” her friend winks as she takes a sip of her drink.
“Why do you even say that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the other girl states, leaning back as she crosses her legs carefully, avoiding exposing more skin than necessary — the red satin dress moving gracefully against her olive skin. “You’ve been broody since we arrived, and if I can remember correctly, you were excited for this party for weeks now. Buying the dress and all…”
Nervously, she reaches for her glass once again, bringing it to her lips as she mulls over her answer. “I am just tired. It’s been a long couple of days.”
Lame, but it might work.
Her friend clicks her tongue with a nod. “And it is not because of a certain someone?”
Surprised, she looks at her friend, lifting her eyebrows in questions, but the lack of ability to pretend that she isn’t affected by his behaviour, makes her friend grin knowingly at her. “I don’t know what you are talking about?” she mumbles.
“Oh, come on!” her friend giggles. “He’s been paying attention to every woman in this room but you. You can’t be serious if you’re trying to make me believe that your sour mood has nothing to do with it.”
“He hasn’t spoken to you, either,” she fires back, almost too defensively, but then stops and leans back in her chair as she bites the inside of her cheek, realising that she just outed herself and how his flirting with other women makes her actually feel.
“Well,” her friend starts smugly, “I am not the one who has seen him naked. Several times, if I might add.”
Ignoring the heat that spreads inside her, she narrows her eyes a little. “Say it louder for the crowd. I am sure Hummels didn’t hear you, over there,” she hisses as she waves her hand towards the direction where some of the Borussia Dortmund’s players were sitting at the bar, across the room. The mentioned man looks at their table, and both women wave politely with a smile at the dark-haired man.
Her friend laughs a little at how silly the interaction was, opening her mouth to say something as she looks over the annoyed girl’s shoulder, but stops quickly — her hand smoothing down her hair as she straightens her posture a little.
“Speak about the devil, and the devil shall appear…”
Her stomach makes a dip at the words, and she quickly twists a little, noticing Marco’s handsome silhouette moving closer to their table — hands resting in the pockets of his pressed trousers, and as soon as he meets her eye, he gives her one of his charming smiles that make her insides burst and her heartrate to pick up its pace.
With a polite nod at her friend, he stops between the two of them, crouching down casually in order to be able to look her in the eyes — his own, roaming her face without an ounce of hesitation or shame.
“Ladies,” he greets after a brief moment — voice smooth as silk, and she finds herself unable to look away from his handsome features either, “hope you are enjoying the party?”
“Some of us, at least,” the friend answers quickly, causing the other girl to drop the staring game with Marco in order to narrow her eyes a little as she glances at the girl, sitting next to her. “What? It’s true. You’ve been sulking the entire evening. Must be something you ate,” she adds with a grin.
Marco only chuckles at the exchange before looking back at her as he runs his thumb and index finger along his chin. “Well, that’s a shame. I was meaning to ask you for a dance.”
“I am just tired,” she repeats herself — the answer sounding more like a question, “but if you feel like dancing, you can always ask Susanne.”
Next to them, her friend almost chokes on her sip — eyes wide and filled with amusement, but she ignores the looks she is getting, focusing rather on the man in front of her and his raised eyebrow.
“I see,” he trails off, looking away with a mischievous smirk, and she cannot help but have the flashbacks of their first time together, and the way he sported the same smirk as she lay underneath him — his weight on top of hers, feeding the need for the human touch she was craving. “Do you mind if we take a walk? Or do you want me to ask Susanne?” he suddenly asks, interrupting her train of thoughts as he gets up to his feet gracefully.
Unable to formulate her answer, she looks between her friend and Marco — his hand now outstretched towards her as he smugly grins at her, and she feels the monster of jealousy stir inside her, once again. With a huff, she straightens her dress that has bunched up in certain places before walking around him and making her way towards the exit, not bothering to wait.
“Fine, let’s take a walk,” she calls as she turns around with are-you-coming-or-not look written all over her features.
The audacity.
“You look fantastic in that colour,” he teases as he catches up with her — both of them stopping next to the cloak room, “it matches with the green of your jealousy.”
“I am not jealous,” she answers quickly, far too quickly, and to stop herself from saying more, she focuses on the young clerk, thanking him for her long coat. Draping it over her shoulders, she turns to face Marco and the knowing smile on his face. “What? It is true. I am not jealous.”
“Your upturned nose and a frown on your lovely features are telling me slightly different things,” he answers casually, taking a step closer; close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off of his body as he gently pulls the lapels of her coat in order to bring them closer to her chest.
She doesn’t say anything but just mutters inchorently as she looks down at their shoes.
The air is crisp as they walk out — his hand resting on the small of her back, guiding her towards the small garden outside the venue, and she wonders what to say, or if she should let him speak first. She feels frustrated with how she’s feeling; frustrated that she was getting possessive over the man that wasn’t hers in the first place.
But you want him, don’t you?
“Okay,” she breathes out, tired of her own thoughts, “maybe I was jealous.”
Marco’s hand leaves the small of her back as he brings his palms together, rubbing them a little to get them warm, and she waits for him to say something — the urge to take the words back slowly taking over.
“See, I was right,” he finally mutters into his palms, “which makes me wonder why? I thought you didn’t want any labels,” he continues smoothly, “in fact, you told me you don’t want any labels.”
She is quiet as she squeezes her hands in fists inside her coat pockets. “Can we just have a nice walk together?”
“We are,” Marco grins as they both take a halt, and she turns to look up at him.
“So, why are you bringing it up?” she asks with a small sigh. “Isn’t it enough that I admitted that I was jealous seeing you flirt with Susanne—God, I never said her name so many times in the course of an evening,” she mutters as she nervously scratches her forehead.
“Because,” he starts, reaching out towards her shoulder to brush invisible dust away from the surface of her coat, “we are both adults. Different levels of adults, but still,” Marco smirks and she cannot help but smirk back, “and because I believe that you didn’t really think through the entire label thing.”
Removing the smirk from her face, she opens her mouth to say something, but then shuts her lips tightly — her brain getting hazy for a moment. “I thought we both agreed on it?”
“No, it was mostly you, having a monologue. I was just turned on and waiting for you to finish.” His smug smirk makes her take a step back as she narrows her eyebrows at him, causing a deep chuckle to rumble its way out of his chest. “Come on, you cannot really think that I would rather kiss Susanne than you?”
She huffs a little — the mention of Susanne’s name giving her a shiver of annoyance. “Well, you are more than welcome to kiss whomever you want.”
“I just told you that I would rather kiss you,” he states, “actually, I am very close to doing it, and more, and,” Marco stops to brush her hair behind her ears — his own soft and warm as they gaze upon her, “as a matter of fact, if you let me, I wouldn’t mind staying longer by your side.”
The familiar heat of desire takes over her — the ability to give him a coherent answer disappearing so she just blinks up at him. “Marco…don’t say things you don’t mean,” she trails off as he takes a step closer, weaving his arms underneath her coat and around her waist, pulling her into him until their bodies are touching.
“Do you want me to stay longer?”
“I do.”
“Then, tuck back that green monster in bed again and come home with me tonight,” he murmures as he brings her face closer to his. “We can talk about the labels tomorrow.”
#marco rose#marco rose imagine#marco rose fanfiction#footballer imagines#football fanfiction#football imagines#footballer imagine
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Still Dancing - Luke Skywalker
It is the birthday of the New Republic and, to celebrate, the freshly appointed Senators have thrown a gala that spans across all of the Core Worlds. Nearly the entire galaxy! By Leia Organa’s invitation, you find yourself lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. You are, it seems, a wallflower, shy and unmoved by the rejoice in the air. Or maybe it’s the dancing that puts you off. Either way, Luke Skywalker is ready to sweep you off your feet.
AN: Gender neutral for the most part! Enjoy!
“You sure look happy to be here.”
“I could say the same for you,” Han fired back before he took a sip of whatever cocktail Leia had ordered for him. His face screwed up at the taste and he all too-quickly placed the glass of bright green liquid down on the table.
“Sour?”
Han answered with a glare.
“Could be worse,” you pointed out.
“Really? How?”
You tipped your head towards the table set next to the one you shared with the smuggler-turned-war hero. “Could be like him.”
Han glanced over and saw the same, overweight Twi’lek man whose head, heavy with his lekku and drink, was pressed against the table. Residue of all colors, including the bright green of Han’s drink stained the fabric cloth of the senatorial place settings. Drool dribbled out of the man’s partially open mouth alongside snores that were drowned out by the political chatter. Han turned in his seat to face you again and shook his head.
“I’d rather be where he is.”
You shrugged. “At least you can still dance away from your problems, Solo.”
“Ha, yeah. Sure.” Han looked back at the passed out Twi’lek and asked, “isn’t this the Ryloth representative?”
“He’s your wife’s co-worker,” you confirmed with hints of a smile played on your lips. Han let out a heavy sigh.
“At least I don’t have to worry about competition.”
“You? No,” you teased and waved a dismissive hand. “You’re a fine Coreillian wine he is to...well...whatever it is that you’re drinking.”
Han frowned but, based on his quietness, your analogy sated him. Both of you, resigned to your spot at the distant, corner table and your respective drinks, stared out into the crowd. Senators, representatives, and business people were dressed in their finest for this long awaited evening: the first annual New Republic Celebration. You, on the other hand, had dreaded your attendance. Though, Leia had stressed to that your presence at the gala was not mandatory.
“I, personally, want you to be there. At best, you meet someone. At worst, you commiserate with Han,” she had said.
That agreement, your promise to attend, was made weeks ago. If you had known it was going to be this stuffy, you would have stayed in your apartments. At least there you knew what you were drinking. There was the added bonus of not being surrounded by strangers, drunk strangers that, lured to their feet by the classical, live music, felt the horrible urge to dance.
Pairs of all sorts and shapes waltzed along the shining, Jelucani fogstone floor. If you dared to watch too long, you grew dizzy and forced your eyes to the stagnant ceiling of dangling, crystal light features. White, amber, and gold reflected beams and refracted waves in a dazzling show that impress you more than the swaying politicians. Much to your surprise, Han seemed more intrigued by the guests.
“Who’s that?” His sudden question coaxed your eyes from the ceiling and in the general direction of his gesture. A lithe figure with powder pink hair was in deep conversation with Leia.
“Amilyn Holdo. Senator from Gatalenta. I met her when Leia took me clothes shopping.”
“I hope she didn’t pay for her dress,” Han jeered. You rolled your eyes and studied Holdo’s holographic dress for a moment. Slips of pink fabric slid around her waist like an in-sown sash, the pastel tone creating a sharp contrast with the rest of the metallic skirt and bodice. Her apparel was not the worst by far. Though, stood next to Leia, whose hair had been done up special for the gala and wore a sleek, white and grey gown, anyone looked gaudy.
With a hard swallow, you let your gaze fall into your lap. Rested there, your hands brushed over the soft material of your outfit. Leia had had more of a say in your look for the evening than yourself. Not that you minded; she had great taste. However, despite your friends’ knack at putting together an outfit, you felt lost in your clothes.
The light blue color of long shawl and matching, flowing trousers reminded you of tundra-covered your home world, Hynestia. When you told Leia just that whole shopping, she had stuck with the color and got to work coordinating accessories and layers. Earlier, you caught your reflection and marveled at your appearance. After working with the Rebellion for so long, you never thought you could look so clean or so poised. Perhaps that was why you slunk to the back of the gala, the ballroom it was held in, and turned your feeling of being out of place into a reality. You didn’t belong here, you yearned for the field, the excitement, and, as grateful as you were for the rest, you longed for the danger too.
Dancing certainly was neither a substitute nor did it appeal to you. Though, the smiles on the faces of those on the dance floor did spark an itch somewhere in your soul. An itch you knew that you would never be able to scratch. Not until you were out of these clothes and back in a shuttle destined to an Outer Rim planet.
“That can’t be...is that…” Han’s voice, once more, broke through your thoughts. When you looked over at him, he wore a wide grin; but it was not directed at you or his wife a few paces away. “I thought you were stranded in Nar Shaddaa!”
“I was, but I couldn’t miss this. Leia would have had my throat!”
That voice! Quickly you traced Han’s eyeline and found its familiar, friendly owner. There he was, Luke Skywalker, dressed in pressed black and a smile that shown like the stars. His blue eyes finally landed on you and, instantaneously, your face warmed.
“Hey,” Luke raised a hand and waved at you as he approached.
“Hi,” you said and returned the wave but smaller, more timid.
“You couldn’t Jedi your way outta this?” Han raised a hand and gestured to the ballroom.
“That’s not how the Force works.”
As he explained, Luke moved and took the seat at the table next to you. Fuel, smoke, and warming spices filled your nose when he leaned in towards you. You looked at him, wondered what he was going to say or do when you saw his hand close around Han’s abandoned glass. He brought the bright green liquid to his nose and sniffed. Immediately, he cringed, face screwed up with disgust, and set the glass back down.
A laugh slipped up your throat and out your lips. The sound captured Luke’s attention and brought eyes up to meet yours. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle yourself. Luke chuckled at your reaction and reached over to grab your wrist. Gently, he pulled your hand from your face and set it back in your lap.
“I like your laugh,” he said softly. Heat washed over you, numbed you with the affection in his voice. When you found your voice, you were stopped by a scoff from Han.
“Haven’t heard Y/N laugh all night.”
“Well, we can’t have that!” Luke looked back at you, “tonight we’re meant to celebrate!”
“Galas aren’t quite my...my thing.” Thing? You couldn’t find a better, more descriptive word? Luke cocked his head at you and you sighed. “This is my first time at an event like this.”
“No, it’s just like the celebration on Endor,” Luke gave you a smile and you were thrusted back into the memory of that night, the excitement had been heavy in the air. “Here, it’s just people with fancier jobs and fancier clothes.”
“Less bugs and stinking, furry gremlins,” Han added with a grimace.
You frowned at him before you looked back at Luke. His blue eyes were fixed on you, just as they had been on Endor the night the Empire fell. Tension fell over you that night, made you nervous to be around him; but the good kind of nervous. The kind that let the butterflies in your stomach go wild and your heart threaten to leap out of your chest.
“I...I don’t know,” you murmured. To escape embarrassment, you forced your eyes away from his and out to the dance floor.
“I do,” Luke said and he stood up from his seat suddenly. You peered up at him and watched when he extended his hand down to you. “Let’s dance.”
“Luke, I don’t-” Luke leaned down towards you before you could finish. The proximity shocked you into silence, the quietest you had been all evening.
“I wanted to dance with you, that night, on Endor. You declined every pilot that asked. But will you reject a Jedi?” Teasing and low, Luke’s tone sent a shiver down your spine. You impressed yourself as you held his gaze and took his extended hand.
Easily, Luke lifted you from your seat. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Han’s expression. His eyes were wide at Luke led you out from behind the table, mouth slightly open. Though, you were so enraptured by the warmth and softness of Luke’s hand in yours. So much so that you almost didn’t notice how Luke had started to lead you in the opposite direction of the dance floor. Almost.
“Um, it’s the other way?” You glanced over your shoulder, towards the crowd of politicians still waltzing around the ballroom.
Luke didn’t respond. Instead, he guided you out of the heart of the gala and down ornately decorated hallways. Hologram images of new New Republican officials littered each walkway but did nothing to distract you. When Luke finally stopped, you were in a small viewing room with walls made mostly of windows that gave you a perfect snapshot of the glowing city of Hosnian Prime. As you looked out across the twinkling lights, distant, soft classical music filtered down the hall from the ballroom. For the first time that night, you found that you could take an easy breath.
“Thanks,” you said when you met Luke’s eyes again. “I needed to get out of there.”
“Sure,” Luke smiled, “but I hope you know that we’re still dancing.”
On cue, he lifted your joined hands and turned his body to front against yours. You couldn’t help the grin that spread along your lips and you played along. Mirroring the movements of the politicians you saw on the dancefloor, you rested your hand on Luke’s shoulder. However, when his free hand found your waist, your breath caught. Luke’s face fell at the sound of your stifled breathing.
“Are you alright?”
“Y-Yeah. Yeah,” you swallowed hard and held Luke’s eyes. “So, we’re dancing?”
“We’re dancing,” Luke echoed as he began to move.
Work with the Rebellion had demanded that you be somewhat agile and coordinated. Dancing, waltzing, whatever it was Luke was leading you to do, was not something your revolutionary duties had not required. However, as you moved, you felt as if you were doing it right. Graceful and practiced, Luke moved with purpose and you followed.
The two of you twirled about the small, hidden room in total sync. While dulled by the distance, the music from the ballroom provided that perfect beat for your feet to follow. Though, that didn’t stop you as you glanced down to make sure you weren’t stepping on Luke’s toes.
“You look beautiful.” Luke’s soft tone coaxed your eyes up to meet his. “You always do, but...especially tonight.” Warmth licked at your skin along with the compliment.
“You look quite handsome yourself,” you replied.
In step, you and Luke continued to move. Stride after stride, you moved together. Your fingertips, desperate for you to get closer, pressed tenderly into Luke’s shoulder. He took the hint and brought his body closer to yours, nearly pressed you together using the hand that rested on your back. Your stomach twirled in tuned with you at the touch.
A few minutes passed, with you and Luke focused entirely on each other, before you realized the music had fallen into silence.
“Luke,” you whispered, “the music. It’s stopped.”
“And we’re still dancing,” he said with a smile. “Unless you want to stop?”
You returned his smile and shook your head. At best, you meet someone, Leia had said; and you were tired of commiserating with Han. “No. I don’t.”
Wordlessly, Luke brought your hand, the one joined with his, to his lips. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the skin atop your hand as you both swayed in the quiet. The touch lifted you up, suspended you like the crystal that hung from the ballroom ceiling. You imagined, if you were to step outside of yourself and watch you and Luke dance, you would find that both you would glimmer too.
#Luke Skywalker#luke skywalker imagine#luke skywalker imagines#luke skywalker x reader#luke skywalker fanfiction#luke skywalker fanfic#star wars#star wars imagine#star wars imagines#star wars fanfiction#star wars fanfic#guess who watched bridgerton
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Text
The Broken Sketchbook Reveals Yuu's (Not-so Biggest) Secret
Twst x Yuu
[Where Yuu is (accidentally) a crossdresser and likes to draw wlw things. ]
Summary: Grim is curious as to what were the contents of Yuu's sketchbook, employing Ace's and Deuce's help. The contents reveal a secret that Yuu wasn't even trying to hide.
[or, Yuu is in a glass closet.]
ao3 link: here
warnings: none
word count: 1,574
----
Grim pawed at the sketchbook at him. It was a rather ordinary sketchbook, plain black with a plastic covering. Yet, for being so ordinary, the sketchbook had a single lock on it. It was clear that it was makeshift, straps sturdily glued on, the lock being small and requiring a numeral passkey to unlock it.
Grim had thought about using his flames to melt the glue, but decided against it- he knew how much Yuu was particular about their sketchbooks.
Grim looked around the Ramshackle dorm- it was after school hours, and Yuu was working a shift at the lounge. As usual, he had seen Yuu carry a sketchbook, one with a similar makeshift straps and a lock, although it had a sticker of a bunny on it. The sketchbook he held in his paws had no distinction, save for letters that spelt out words in a foreign language. What the words meant, he didn’t know.
But it was a curious item, one that practically begged to be open and exposed for all the world to see.
“Oh!”
Coming up with an idea, Grim grabbed the item with his mouth, running off outside.
0
“Eh? I don’t know how to take this off.”
“You didn’t even try!”
Grim pouted, the flames in his ears shifting a bit too unpredictable for Deuce’s tastes.
“It’s just a sketchbook, and it’s obvious that Yuu doesn’t want us looking through their things.” Deuce replied, flipping the book around. He took a look at the words written in bright silver, raising a brow.
“Is this… a foreign language?”
Grim shrugged, “Heck if I know… oh wait,” he paused, “I think I’ve heard Yuu say things that I didn’t understand.”
“Like what?”
“Never paid attention.”
Deuce only sighed, and gave back the sketchbook to Grim. “Well, either way, you should really return this,” he glanced to the side, “I’ll go back to playing basketball. Later, Grim.”
Deuce ran off, the sound of squeaking sneakers being the last thing Grim heard.
“Oh, Yuu’s sketchbook?”
“Yep!”
Ace picked up the book, giving it a curious glance over. “Huh.”
“Can ya open it?”
“Maybe. I might need a knife though.”
“Where would I get a knife?”
“The kitchen? Track is almost over, and Yuu doesn’t come back until late night right? We can just use one of your knives.”
“But it’ll be obvious!”
Ace sighed, “Do you want to know what Yuu draws or not?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Then I’ll meet you back at Ramshackle!”
Grim had a bad feeling about this. The last time he tried to open up one of Yuu’s sketchbooks, he was met with a rather angry Yuu, who, calmly (yet frighteningly) spoke to him.
Grim quietly hoped that all would go well.
“Here ya go.”
Grim gave Ace the knife- it was a butter knife, but it would do the job just fine. Ace thanked the creature, and began to break the glue. He went in and up and down motion, the knife grinding against the mold of glue. It took a while, but he was making progress.
After a minute of doing so, the glue relented and gave away. No loner was the strap glued down, the sketchbook now open to be viewed.
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Deuce quietly said. It was an invasion of privacy, but he too, was curious as to the contents of the sketchbook. Why did Yuu put a lock on it?
The first page had Yuu’s number and the location the book should be brought to- something of which was inscribed on the back of the book. Odd. Ace flipped the page- blank. Another page. Blank.
“What the heck…?”
He flipped to the next two pages, and finally, there was something.
It was a naked woman.
“Eh?!” Deuce stared at the drawing, his cheeks reddening.
There was nothing inherently sexual about the drawing, just a woman tying up her hair, sitting, a hairband in their mouth. The woman was glancing downwards, her arms up and hands hiding in hair. It was a rather simple drawing, although it was obvious that there was more work done on the hair and arms than the woman’s face or their body.
Why Yuu had drawn this, they didn’t know.
Ace flipped to the next page, and this time it was of two women kissing each other lovingly. Unlike the last drawing, these women adorned what looked like traditional dress (from where, no one knew), one of the women holding a bouquet of violets.
“Well, this is most certainly something.” Ace didn’t know what to make of the drawings. Deuce’s face was still red, and likely will remain red for the next few minutes.
Ace flipped to the next page, took a good look for one second, then closed the sketchbook. It was… rather explicit to say the least.
“I see why Yuu had it locked it…”
“Told you guys it was a bad idea…”
Ace slightly opened up the book, going to a random page, fully opening it once he knew it was appropriate.
It was a rather detailed drawing, more so than the last. It looked like a self portrait, although heavily stylized in a cartoony way, as instead of what one would consider what would be a normal skin tone- it was a pastel blue. The lashes were large, the wings too big to be humane. Their outfit was something they had never seen before, in an unknown aesthetic from old times, in a neon blue, but darker. In fact, the entire drawing was in blue, with multiple shades of blue in every way possible- metallic, textured and partnered, dull and tainted.
“Well, this is certainly different from the others.” Ace couldn’t quite believe that this was drawn by the same person, although he did identify some trademark traits- Yuu often drew the noses with a triangle if it was stylized, more realistic if… well, realistic.
“What in the world is y’all doing?”
Everyone turned around to see Yuu standing right behind them. They could see one of their eyes gleaming, the three sensing danger from Yuu.
“It’s not what it looks like!” Deuce squeaked out- this was the first time he ever felt fear towards the Ramshackle prefect.
“Is that so?” Yuu drawled out, eyeing the sketchbook in Ace’s hand, “pray tell, then why is my usually locked sketchbook open?”
“The lock broke!” Ace lied, his voice high.
“Really?” Yuu glanced at the knife, then back to Ace, “Then why do you have a butter knife?”
“We broke it! I wanted to see what was inside!” Grim yelled, giving his best attempt at a bow. Yuu’s facial expression softened, but as soon as it did, it returned to its original expression.
“Is that so?” Their voice was quiet, picking up their sketchbook. They let out a small sigh, yet their demeanor didn’t change- Ace and Deuce could still taste the tension in the air.
“Sorry...” Deuce apologized, although it came out weak.
“If you were curious, you could’ve asked,” Yuu looked at the damage, “I had more appropriate drawings elsewhere. I keep them locked for an obvious reason, you idiots.”
They took their sketchbook, and the broken lock, away. Their items were neatly laid on the table, including their other sketchbook that they had taken to work.
“Maybe we can ask Yuu about that one then?” Grim suggested.
“Sure.”
Deuce nearly jumped at the voice, not having expected Yuu to be so quick in returning. Ace noticed this, and laughed.
“Pfft, you should see your face, dude.”
“Oh, shut up! As if you weren’t scared earlier!”
“I wasn’t the only one!”
“Enough,” Yuu walked over, their voice effectively stopping the two from yelling at one another. The teenagers huffed, but they remained silent.
Yuu picked up their work sketchbook, inputting the numbers to unlock it. Now open, it revealed a number of doodles, some detailed, some rather simple. Notes were written, reminders for the future, and numbers to remember.
“So….” Ace spoke up, “What’s the deal with the naked ladies?
“...”
“Yuu?”
“I’m… a lesbian…”
“Wait what-”
“You’re a girl?!” Deuce looked at Yuu with wide eyes.
“Yes? I thought it was obvious?” Yuu returned the same look at Deuce.
“It wasn’t obvious! You never said anything!”
“I never thought I had too???”
“Y’know, this explains why Deuce never acted nervous before,” Ace quietly commented to Grim, watching the scene unfold.
Grim nodded, “I thought it was pretty obvious that Yuu was a girl.”
“I need.. To process this information…” Deuce got up, and walked out of Ramshackle Dorm, leaving a very puzzled Yuu and a calm Ace and Grim. Yuu let out another heavy sigh.
The tension was thick and heavy. In an attempt to lift the air, Ace spoke up.
“So. Girls?”
Ace looked at Yuu’s facial expression. Their puzzled expression melted to a softer one, one with a smile, replying, “Girls.”
Ace raises his hand, making a sort of fist. Yuu raised a brow, but raised a fist of her own. Ace smiled, Grim watching as Ace fist-bumped Yuu.
“Girls.”
…
…
...
...
Meanwhile, outside, Deuce was walking in a circle, wrapping his head around the thought that Yuu was a girl.
“Why am I so stupid?!” He cursed at himself.
“Eh, you didn’t know?”
Deuce turned his head, his eyes locking with those of Jack’s confused eyes. It took him a moment to process Jack’s words.
“You too?!”
#twst x yuu#twisted wonderland#luzarya writes things yuh#crossdressing yuu#yuu is lowkey wlw#twst fanfic
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