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uncpanda · 3 years

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Back to the Navy Yard: Part 3

AN: Good news is this is coming much easier to me now thanks to my betas who are allowing me to bounce ideas off of them!

Notes: Eli David and Jackie Vance are both alive, also the timeline between Ziva and Tony was sped up, because slow burn is only good for so long.

Master List

The call comes in at eight. Your dad, Ziva, and Callen are all in the den, and you’ve been hiding away since you arrived at the safe house nearly three hours ago. The two bedroom cabin is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountains, and a decent drive from civilization. You know, that if you take the call in here, that they’ll hear every word. For people who are constantly around bombs, your father and his team seem to have the ears of a basset hound.

So you take it outside. You don’t even glance at them, as you bolt out the door and to the tree line. Once you’re a safe distance away, you accept the call, and immediately a little voice calls out, “Marmee!”

Your face breaks out into a grin, because no matter how stressed you are, Jack Hotchner seems to melt it away. “Hey bubba.”

“Marmee, Daddy says you’re visiting your dad!” You’re sure you having a father is a foreign concept to Jack; to him it must be fascinating.

“Yeah bubba. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, so I’m spending some time with him.”

“Are you having fun?”

To lie, or not to lie? You choose not, “I don’t know that I’d describe it that way. You see we had a fight a long time ago, and we’re trying to make things right.”

At eight years old, Jack seems quick to understand, “He loves you Marmee, he’s your dad. Dads and Moms are supposed to love you no matter what. That’s what you always say about you and daddy.”

You do say that. And you’re thrilled that Jack doesn’t know any different, and that he never will. And on some level, you know he’s right in regards to your dad. “You’re absolutely right Jack, I will always love you no matter what. Now, I know it’s time for your story, so why don’t you pass the phone to your dad while you finish getting ready.”

“Okay! Love you Marmee!.”

Aaron’s voice comes through a minute later, “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve been hiding since we got here. We got into it in the car. A real shame too, apparently he and my grandfather started talking again, and grandpa restored his old charger. It runs like a dream.”

Aaron huffs a laugh, “You seem very excited about this car.”

“If I get back on good terms with him, I’m going to steal it one night so we can go make out on a dirt road somewhere.”

“An interesting concept, but how is stealing his car going to help him to like me?”

“It won’t, but it sure would be fun.”

Aaron laughs, “I miss you. The apartment is lonely without you here.”

“I miss you two too.”

A second later Jack is back. You stay on the phone for thirty minutes as Jack reads from his book. Occasionally, Aaron will help him with a word, but he’s an excellent reader. By the end, every other word is interrupted with a yawn, until there’s a mumbled goodnight from Jack and an I love you from Aaron. When you hang up the phone you lean back against a tree.

The bark scratches at your skin through your shirt, but you don’t care, because you miss your boys. You’re tapping the phone against your chest, and thinking of ways to get home sooner when someone says, “That was an interesting phone call.”

You turn to look at your dad. You’d forgotten about his ability to sneak up on people. And you rushing out of the house really was too obvious. Oh well, your head has been in a jumble since Fornell walked into the BAU that morning.

You turn to look at him. And he’s staring at you with a mixture of fear and sadness, “I used to call you bubba. You made me stop when you turned twelve.”

“I thought I was too old for it. I was wrong, but then again hindsight is 20/20.”

He swallows somewhat audibly, “You had a kid? I’m a grandfather?”

“Not exactly.”

He stares at you, and you know that’s your cue, “I broke rule number twelve.”

“The guy who calls you a kitten?”

“No. My boss. Hotchner. We’ve been together for close to three years, and engaged for about six months.”

Your father’s face is unreadable, “And the kid you’re calling bubba?”

You smile, it’s a naturally brilliant one that makes your father’s heart stutter, because it’s the smile of a mother, “His name is Jack. He’s eight years old. I’ve known him since he was two. Aaron and Jack’s mom divorced shortly after I started at the BAU. She couldn’t handle the job, and he wasn’t willing to leave.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“We got to talking. We became friends.”

“His ex nice?”

“She was. She’s dead. A serial killer we were after went after Aaron. Nearly killed him, and a few months later he went after Haley and Jack. The bastard killed Haley, but Aaron was able to save Jack.”

“And the bastard?”

“Aaron killed him. It was self defense. If he hadn’t he would have killed Jack.”

Your dad shakes his head, “I have no doubt the report says that.” There’s a moment of silence before he asks, “You sure he’s a good guy?”

“You mean am I sure I’m not a replacement?” He gives you a look, “Aaron and Haley knew each other for nearly twenty years, They married right out of college. But they drifted apart. They loved each other, but they weren’t in love with each other. And Aaron went to therapy after the attack, still does. We’ve gone together a few times, not for anything wrong, but to keep the relationship healthy. I know for a fact how Aaron feels, and I’m not a replacement for Haley.”

“Thus Marmee?”

“From Little Women. You read that to me, and I read it to Jack. He came up with the idea about a year ago. Asked if he could have a Mommy and a Marmee. I didn’t stop smiling for days.”

Silence engulfs the two of you, before he asks, “You have any pictures?”

“Only about a million.”

You’re quick to pull up the photos on your phone. There’s pictures of the three of you, or the two of you trading off with Jack, and quite a few just of Jack. Your dad is actually smiling at the photos, “He plays soccer? You couldn’t talk him into baseball?”

“His choice dad. Aaron coaches, and I bring the fruit and scare away the single moms who keep trying to steal him away.”

Your father squints, “How old is this guy?”

You wince, because you know this is going to be a big deal, “Forty two.”

His head snaps to you, “Forty two? He’s twelve years older than you!”

You snatch your phone away from him. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“He’s looking death in the eye, he’s a crypt keeper, the grim reaper is coming for him!”

You roll your eyes, “You are literally the last person who is allowed to give relationship advice. You have three failed marriages under your belt.”

“And one successful one!”

You roll your eyes and start heading back towards the cabin, with your father ranting the whole way. You stop in the kitchen where a stunned Ziva and Callen are standing. You get a glass of water and tune him out until he says, “And I don’t even see a ring!”

You roll your eyes and untuck the chain around your neck to show him the ring you had slipped on it earlier that day. You slip it off and present it to him. However, before he can take it Ziva snatches it away, her voice going a tad high pitched, “You are engaged?”

You nod, and your dad adds, “And she has a kid.”

You sigh, and glance at Callen who is staring slack jawed.

Ziva rolls with it, “How old. Tony and I have a daughter, her name is Tali, and we are always looking for playdates.”

Your eyebrows rise to your hair line, “You and Tony finally happened?”

“Yes. We have been married for seven months. Tali is one. And your child?”

“Jack is eight.”

Her brow furrows as she does math, “Umm.”

“Jack is from Aaron’s first marriage.”

Callen finally comes to, “Aaron, as in Hotchner? As in your boss? What happened to rule twelve?”

“It got out done by mom’s rule number one; when you know, you know.”

You dad rolls his eyes, “He’s twelve years older than her.”

Callen lets out a high pitched, “What?”

And Ziva rolls her eyes, “Please. Both of you have dated younger women. And Tony is ten years older than me. Let it go.”

She takes your arm and steers you towards the couch, “Now Aaron was the tall one with the dark hair?”

“Yep.”

“He is very handsome. Very in charge.”

Your dad groans, “I don’t need to hear this.”

Ziva doesn’t hesitate, “Then go check the perimeter with Callen.” And the two of you proceed to exchange pictures. You feel a ping of hurt when you realize just how much you missed as you look at her wedding photos. She senses it, of course.

“I missed you. I wanted you there. Your father even gave his blessing for inviting you, but I wasn’t sure if you would come. I got scared. I believe we were all scared that you would tell us to go forget ourselves.”

You don’t bother correcting her turn of phrase, “I would have gone, if only to find out if I won the pool. I’m sure it must have been huge by the time you two finally got together.”

“Around three thousand I believe. Jackie Vance of all people won. My father was a close second. He and Gibbs walked me down the aisle. It seemed . . . right.”

You know Ziva is like another daughter to your dad, and you’re only slightly jealous of how much he relies on her and trusts her to take care of things.

“What about you? Do you have a date or place or . . . ?”

Out of the corner of your eye you watch your dad lean slightly forward. G is still gaping with his mouth wide open in the kitchen. You turn to look at your dad as you speak, “No. I wanted to make things right first.” Your dad’s lips twitch, and you turn back to Ziva, “Jack is getting rather impatient though, no matter how much Aaron denies it.”

“Really?”

“Yesh. He is in desperate want of a baby brother.”

You hear a crash and look over to find G collapsed on the floor. Apparently his poor heart couldn’t take any more.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner reader insert #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #dad!gibbs #dad!gibbs x daughter!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm reader insert #ncis #ziva david

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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years

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Ch. Fifteen

⚠WARNING: Mention of previous character's death

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You set your phone down and look at Oikawa’s prone body lying next to you.

Once you returned to your apartment Oikawa was 99% asleep - you’re really not sure how he was able to put one foot in front of the other, but he did. You were going to deposit him into your bed but Oikawa was clinging to you like an octopus. So instead you let gravity do the work and you both had fallen backwards onto your comforter and pillows.

Oikawa didn’t even bother moving to get underneath the blankets before he properly fell asleep, mouth open and everything. He remained clutched to your arms, and you were helpless to try and escape from under him.

Ever since they were children, Oikawa always had to cling to someone and he’d be especially clingy when he was upset (which given today wasn’t surprising that you couldn’t pry yourself from his grip.) Since you, Oikawa and Hajime all lived in the same neighborhood since elementary, you had frequent sleepovers at each other’s homes. And sure enough, every time Oikawa would subconsciously choose you or Hajime to cling to while sleeping.

Hajime absolutely hated it but you didn’t mind.

Watching your friend sleep you can't help but give a sad little smile. He looks peaceful and so young in sleep. You know he’s the furthest from innocent right now, and he has a lot of work ahead of him to fully earn your trust back. But you wish that he wasn’t tortured with the troubles that plague you all.

A knock at the door makes you sit up. Oikawa’s face pinches at the motion, and you speak to him. “Mattsun and Makki are here, but you can sleep if you want.”

His reply is a sleepy grumble but he too sits up. You know that despite him only getting a few hours of sleep he won’t want to be left alone in your room. Together, with Oikawa leaning on you, you walk to the door and let in your friends. Mattsun raises his eyebrows at the sight of a clingy and exhausted Oikawa hanging off your frame but you just shrug. Makki seems to take pity on you as he drags Oikawa off and over to the couch, handing his coat off to Mattsun to hang up.

“Thanks for coming over,” you tell Mattsun. “I’m gonna put the kettle on and order some lunch.”

Mattsun nods. “Whatever you need to do.” He gives you a small smile and leaves you in the apartment entrance. You can recognize that he’s giving you space and letting you set the boundaries for the conversation to follow, and you appreciate his tact.

After you order the take out and make tea you enter your living room and see Makki and Mattsun sharing your couch. Oikawa is slumped in your armchair, eyelids drooping as he tries to stay away.

“Oikawa you can go back to sleep if you want.” You offer after setting down the tray with tea. He shakes his head at you as you pass out mugs but doesn’t verbalize.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” You settle on the ground by the coffee table, choosing to face your friends instead of sitting next to them. It’s quiet for a few minutes while everyone relaxes in their seats and sips the jasmine tea you’ve made. There’s a tangible tension in the air, stemming from the second Oikawa opened his mouth at the restaurant last night to this very moment. Mattsun and Makki are waiting for you to initiate, for in their eyes you were ready to tear Oikawa limb from limb yesterday and today you greeted them at the door with your tall friend clinging to you.

Plus there's the whole you loving Hajime thing that should be addressed.

You know that your friends would never, ever push you to discuss it. But they’re probably wondering why they weren’t privy to the info, why Oikawa was, and if you don’t trust them or something. The last thing you want is to make your friends doubt the relationship you have with them, so you’re ready to clear the air and address the elephant in the room.

“I love Hajime.” You say. Everyone looks up from their tea to you. “I’ve been in love with him since the first year of high school, I think.”

Predictably, you’re met with matching sad looks. But even though you knew it was coming, you still can’t squirm uncomfortably at the pity you feel coming from them. This was exactly why you didn’t want anyone to know, especially now.

“Were you ever going to tell him?” Mattsun asks quietly.

You shrug, both at his question and the uneasiness settling in your gut “I didn’t feel like I needed to at the time. We were still in high school, still living life. I was happy with our friendship and I didn’t think anything more.” You smile ruefully. “If anything I think I was more worried about not being friends with him anymore if a confession went south.

“Honestly, I didn’t think that there would be a day that I wouldn’t be able to tell him how I felt. Even if I grew out of those feelings, part of me thought I’d be able to confess some day. I don’t regret our friendship, not when I wanted more. But I do regret not being upfront about my feelings with Hajime. He was my best friend, and I should’ve been able to tell him anything.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes and you look down at your tea. “We all have wonderful memories with Hajime, and I will never ever forget him. But it sucks, because while the memories are wonderful I can’t help but think how much better they could’ve been if I told him how I felt about him.”

You sniff, holding back your tears. You look back up and see Oikawa wiping his eyes and Makki sniffling.

Mattsun is looking at you with a serious expression. “I don’t want to go through hypotheticals or explore ‘what ifs,’ but I don’t think I’m alone in saying that Iwazumi cared for you differently than he did us. And I don’t think it was because you were best friends growing up with Oikawa, because he hated Oikawa.”

“Hey!” Oikawa pipes up from his spot, but there’s no real heat behind it.

Mattsun shifts, clearing his throat. When he speaks again his voice is rough with emotion. “You were precious to him, and his actions reflected how much he cared for you.”

You recognize that Mattsun is not outright saying the L-word but his careful alluding makes you smile tearfully. “I know, and he’s always going to hold a special place in my heart.”

Nobody says anything to that, and the room is blanketed with silence again.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Makki asks quietly, subdued. “Oikawa knew, but me and Issei didn’t.”

You sigh, your chest tight at the wounded look on Makki’s face. “I didn’t mean for Oikawa to find out. And I didn’t want to hide it because I didn’t trust you. But I just didn’t know how to bring it up, especially after Hajime passed away. I just,” you pause, sighing. “We’re all struggling, and I didn’t want you to think differently of me, or I didn’t want you to think that your feelings weren’t valid.”

It’s a lame excuse, but it’s probably the best way you can explain your thoughts. You’re not sure if their feelings are stronger or lesser than yours but you don’t need to know. The varying levels of grief people feel do not need to meet a criteria to be judged. Just because you love Hajime beyond the level of friendship that Oikawa, Mattsun or Makki probably love Hajime doesn’t mean that you “win” the game of grief.

“Y/N,” Mattsun says softly. “We’re your friends, and we want you to come to us with anything. Well, anything you feel comfortable sharing, which I guess in this case you weren’t comfortable with.” Mattsun pauses, it looks like he’s struggling to pick his words. “I do feel pain for you, but mainly because you’ve been dealing with these thoughts alone. I’m sorry if we ever gave you the impression that you couldn’t talk to us.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that, I swear. I just didn’t want to burden you all.”

Mattsun sighs. “I understand, and I don’t want to push you to share anything you don’t want to. But we love Iwaizumi, and if you want to talk about him or need to talk about him, know you can always come to us.”

Makki and Oikawa nod in agreement. You feel your eyes sting again but you smile, because you have the most kind and generous friends you could ask for. Hindsight is 20/20, but your heart does feel lighter knowing that your friends won’t ostracize you or anything because you love Hajime.

“We should’ve known that Oikawa would’ve just confronted Y/N straight on, he’s always been a jerk like that.” Makki says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

But instead of squawking in protest or complaining dramatically, Oikawa nods. “Yeah, I’m an asshole.”

Makki’s smile instantly shifts into an uncomfortable frown. “Oikawa, I was just joking -”

“But you’re right.” Oikawa cuts him off firmly. “And I’ve been even worse the past few months. I haven’t been taking care of myself like I should, and I’m sorry taking my frustrations out on you guys.” He takes in a breath. “I’m going to take a break from volleyball so I can make time for my therapy sessions.”

You, Mattsun and Makki all share the same look of surprise. “Oikawa, are you sure?” You can’t help but think back to Oikawa’s reason for not wanting to quit volleyball, and part of you feels guilty for suggesting he take away the strong connection he had to Hajime.

But Oikawa gives you a weak smile. “If Iwa-chan were here, he would call me a dumbass for not taking care of myself.”

“Yeah, he’d probably call you a dumbass and throw a volleyball at your head.” Makki adds. Oikawa squawks at the tease, making everyone in the room laugh.

You smile as you watch Oikawa snap back at Makki, with Mattsun egging them both on. They fall into a routine they’ve established since high school. The one missing component - Hajime either ignoring Oikawa’s calls for backup or sharing comistering looks with you - is obvious, but it doesn’t hurt as much. Your friends’ presence in your apartment fills you with warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket at the end of a hard day.

A knock at the door disrupts your thoughts and you stand to grab the takeout. Mattsun goes to the kitchen to grab plates and utensils, while Oikawa and Makki continue to squabble in the living room. You and Mattsun return to the living room at the same time, causing Makki and Oikawa to call a truce and grab food. There’s a comfortable silence in your apartment as you all fill your plates and settle. As you dig in, an errant thought comes to your mind.

“Oikawa, how do you know where Osamu lives?”

Oikawa speaks around the noodles shoved in his mouth. “I have a fan who works in the registrar’s office and it wasn’t hard to bribe her to look it up.”

“Yeah, that’s something we haven’t talked about yet.” Makki notes, looking right at you.

You avoid his gaze. “About Oikawa’s fans? Yes, it’s ridiculous how crazy they are.”

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.”

You glance up, sighing at the looks of intrigue on Makki and Mattsun’s faces. “I was upset last night, and I left my keys at his place. He let me stay because I was upset. We’re just friends.”

Mattsun purses his lips at you, but Makki has a thoughtful look.

“Well, he’s pretty cute. If Mattsun ever gets tired of me I might have to give him a call.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. You know you’re just playing into his trap, and hell would have to freeze over before Mattsun and Makki broke up but you couldn’t even hold back your distaste at the idea.

The smirk on Makki’s face only grows. “Oh, is Osamu into possessiveness?”

“Excuse me?” You ask darkly.

“He said you were possessive.” Oikawa helpfully supplies with his mouth full of food. You’re about to yell at him for manners when Mattsun speaks up.

“You’re different around him.”

Uh oh, he’s using the same voice he used earlier when talking about Hajime and you. He’s not teasing you.

“Different how?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Different, like how you acted around Iwaizumi.”

His observation is met with silence, Makki glancing at Mattsun nervously and Oikawa gazing directly at you.

“Do you like Osamu-kun?” Oikawa asks.

“Wow, yet again Oikawa is not scared to ask the hard questions!” Your attempts at deflection do not go well, as Mattsun serves you an intense look.

“Do you like him?”

You push back, rolling your eyes. “I think you guys know more than anyone that I’m in no state to be in a relationship right now.”

“That’s not what we’re asking.” Oikawa replies. He’s still staring at you, but it’s not a mean look on his face. Neither Mattsun nor Makki are looking at you meanly either, but all three of your friends’ eyes bore into you. Oikawa speaks up again. “Do you feel differently about Osamu compared to me, Mattsun and Makki?”

Your first instinct is to say no because you do see him as you see your friends. You think of all of the conversations you’ve both had about school and classes. And you think of all the stories you’ve shared about growing up in Sendai and your likes, dislikes.

You would even say that you and Osamu are best friends, given how much you’ve relied on him when it comes to dealing with Iwaizumi. A twinge of guilt twists in your stomach as you worry that maybe you rely on him too much. He has his own burdens to carry.

But at the end of the day, you just know that he’d be there for you. And he’s shown time and time again that he will be there for a late night phone call or a shoulder to cry on.

Even those late night text conversations when you’re too scared to fall asleep. Or how the way he supports is different to Makki, Mattsun and Oikawa.

But why? Why is it different?

Is it because he didn’t know the Y/N you were when you were younger? He didn’t know the Y/N that existed before high school?

He doesn’t know you from before Hajime died. He’s seen this raw, broken-down version of you. And he still wants to talk to you. He still wants to hang out and get coffee and be with you.

And in return, you know this raw, broken-down version of Osamu. Honestly, you could care less if the Osamu you never knew was the richest man in the world, or the smartest man alive. The Osamu now has been shaped and has grown from every experience he’s lived, the good and the bad. And everytime you talk you find out more about him that draws you in more. You’re never going to be satisfied until you find out everything about him. You’re not sure if it’s obsession or infatuation, but every little fact you unearth brings you a joy that you haven’t felt in some time.

You revel in the small expressions he shows around you and your ability to decipher his mood based on those looks. You shine when he focuses on you, his intense gaze indicating that he’s giving you his full attention on you and only you.

You felt safe with the strong arm around your shoulders when you felt like breaking. You felt comforted when he wiped your tears from your face.

You felt loved.

You look up at your friends, amazed.

“Oh my god, I think I like Osamu.”

The boys nod their head at you, none of them surprised by your revelation. You look down at your full plate, appetite long gone. You honestly can’t believe you’ve been so blind. Looking back it was so OBVIOUS that you’ve had feelings for Osamu for a long time.

Another thought crosses your mind, much more displeasing than your realizing your feelings for Osamu. “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship though.”

The boys nod at you again. This time Oikawa isn’t able to hold back his eyes roll. “Well obviously.”

You shrink down, feeling a new level of low. There’s no way you could try to pursue a relationship with Osamu, not now. But what if he wants to? What if he returns your feelings and wants to date you? Or worse, what if he doesn’t accept your feelings and doesn’t want to be your friend anymore?

“Y/N-chan, get out of your head.” Oikawa sing-songs, and it does bring you out of your head. You look at him and frown.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Babe, you don’t have to do anything.” Makki replies.

“But I want to.” You say instantly. “I mean, I think I want to, or I should?”

“But you know that you’re not in the right headspace to pursue a relationship now.” Mattsun reminds you gently. “And making sure you’re healthy enough to give the relationship all that you can is important.”

You nod sadly, agreeing. But your face must display your disappointment, so Oikawa sets his plate down and comes to sit by you.

“Look, just take it day by day. Nothing really has to change, you just have a different outlook on your relationship with Osamu.” He grabs your hand and holds it in both of his. “Instead of looking through a plain window, you’re looking through a stained glass window, right? It’s still Osamu out there, and he’s still the same person you like and want to be with. But now your relationship with him is richer and more vibrant. Even if you can’t act on your feelings now, you still have this new and beautiful view.”

You stare at Oikawa, dumbfounded. Mattsun and Makki look equally surprised at the deep and meaningful comparison Oikawa pulled out of nowhere.

“Wow,” Makki eventually says. “I didn’t know you could be so romantic, Oikawa.”

“Excuse you, I’m very romantic!” Oikawa snaps back indignantly. “Anyway, Y/N-chan, I guarantee that Osamu will be willing to wait. He’ll be patient, especially with you.”

“What would you know about patience?” Makki asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

Oikawa snaps again wordlessly, his tone shrill. You and Mattsun laugh, and the rest of the day is filled with everyone laughing and teasing each other.

At some point you take a second to look at your friends and smile. Your lives are unimaginably hard, and Hajime missing from these get-togethers still makes your heart ache. But with Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki here to soothe the pain, you know you can get through the worst of it.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: Okay, so all the cards on the table - I cried during the entire writing process with this chapter - planning it, drafting it, writing it, finalizing it AND even reviewing it. It’s not the first time I’ve had emotional reactions to my own writing, but it’s the first time it’s been such a visceral reaction. Not only is it so satisfying to see that small character growth from Oikawa, but the character growth from Y/N was oh so satisfying. She is FINALLY opening up to her friends, and they are FINALLY having a conversation that has been MONTHS in the making. She isn’t scared to suppress her feelings anymore, and she FINALLY trusts herself to open up to her friends, despite her subconscious trying to protect her from being vulnerable in front of those she cares about. If you’re reading this now, please know that there is NOTHING wrong with being open and forthcoming about your feelings. The people in your life who love you unconditionally, including me, will THANK you for it. 💖💖💖 Okay, gonna go cry again after writing this A/N LOLOLOL.

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef

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pessu · 2 years

Text

decided to take part in @ministarfruit’s mini-femslash-february!

day two: plants, faraskye

The study of plants. Also commonly referred to as botany. It’s a subject you can major in at university and it’s also useful for a lot of areas. Like… breeding new plants for example. Or… having them at home?

Let’s just say, Ema is not very good with plants.

She knows about genetics, sure. Mendel’s experiments on pea plants and his laws of heredity do count as some kind of botany, right? See, Ema’s doing well with plant knowledge.

Which is why she is standing in a flower shop arguing about low-maintenance plants. Not for her, obviously, but as a kind of gift. Okay, it’s not “kind of” a gift, it is supposed to be a gift. Period.

Maybe she should’ve thought about which plant exactly to get Kay before she entered the florist’s, but hindsight is always 20/20.

The florist is looking at her with a beat expression. So far Ema has said no to at least four plants. Aloe vera (toxic to pets), devil’s ivy (weekly or bi-weekly watering is too much responsibility), basic succulents (she thinks they look ugly) and pothos (also toxic to pets). Not that she and Kay have any pets at the moment but you know, they might. At some point. In any case, the plant should not be toxic to pets.

Doesn’t she want to pick some flowers? The florist suggests. Ema says no. Flowers die too easily. She wants something resilient and low-maintenance. And non-toxic to potential pets.

The florist sighs deeply. Ema looks around until she spots a little red flower among spikes. Of course she knows this one, it’s a cactus! Maybe she should get one of those?

She is quickly informed that most cacti only bloom once a year. Since this one’s already blossoming, it won’t do it again any time soon. Ema, however, doesn’t care. She’s in love. A plant that requires watering only once a month, is non-toxic, and has this kind of je ne sais quoi Ema wanted? Perfect. Really, she should’ve thought of cacti beforehand. It’s such an obvious choice.

She buys it and holds it tightly in her hands on the way home. When she positions it in her apartment, she takes great care to make it look as enticing as a small spiky thing can look like.

Kay comes to visit her only a few hours later. She takes one look at the cactus and squeals in delight.

“It’s beautiful, Ema!” She exclaims, lovingly touching it like it's a precious treasure. “It doesn’t dry out when we have to leave the apartment for our assignments, we can document how long it takes for it to bloom again, and it’s non-toxic to any potential pets we might adopt!”

Yeah, Ema thinks. She loves her.

#minifemslashfeb2022 #ace attorney #faraskye #ema skye #Kay Faraday #will probably manage only some of the prompts though #i want to try and start writing daily again so let's see how many prompts i can manage #lol plant doesn't sound like a word anymore after this #I just realised. plants. woods. Juniper woods. I could've done something with junithena -#OH WELL next time

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bobohu4eva · 3 years

Text

Pink Lace - Chapter 5

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo

Masterlist

After your conversation with Baekhyun Monday evening Tuesday was spent desperately trying to get Baekhyun off your mind, with little success. He’d asked you if you liked him like that, and you couldn’t tell him no. Hell, you knew in the back of your mind that the answer was definitely yes, you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it to his face.

As much as you did like him, the prospect of starting something with a customer who was also your professor was still terrifying. What if you two got together and people found out? Or what if things started to go south and you were still stuck with him as your teacher?

Despite your other schoolwork, and cleaning basically everything you possibly could, your mind just kept racing with every different possible scenario for if you did tell Baekhyun how you felt. And most of them were quite unpleasant. He could lose his job, you could make class absolute hell for yourself if things didn’t go well, and so on. Different possibilities played themselves out in your mind over and over, and there was little you could do to stop it.

However the thoughts that stuck with you the most were the ones where things didn’t end badly. Thoughts of his arms around you, his comforting words whispered in your ear, and the gentle touches of his pretty hands on your skin. As much as you fought it, the attraction was there.

The way your mind bounced between thoughts was stressful to no end. Every time you tried reasoning with yourself, you just thought about how good he made you feel when you were alone together.

Baekhyun was always so willing to be vulnerable with you, it made you feel appreciated. He was so open about his feelings, and honest with his intentions towards you that it made it difficult to push him away. You wanted to be able to show him the same kind of vulnerability as well, but the possibilities if you did still frightened you too much.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to go on like this forever, sooner or later you had to figure out what to say to him.

Your essay was plaguing you as well. You’d tried to start it on several occasions, but Plato’s writing was so old timey and incomprehensible you didn’t even know where to start. It also didn’t help that every time you tried to start writing, all you could think about was what Baekhyun would think. The idea of turning a shitty paper in for him to read and grade made you feel sick. You knew you were shooting yourself in the foot putting it off but you just couldn’t bring yourself to start it either.

“You’ve cleaned everything in the apartment. Twice. What’s with you today y/n?” Mia asked as she walked out of her bedroom and into the common area, finding you once again wiping down all the surfaces in the kitchen.

“I’m trying to distract myself, was that not obvious?” You knew what was coming next.

“Baekhyun still on your mind?”

Yes. He was. In every possible way, good and bad, and you couldn’t stop it.

“I think I do like him.”

“See! I knew it!” You rolled your eyes at her. “Anything exciting happen yesterday? Did you decide to keep the money?” She asked, sitting down at the dining room table, you sitting down across from her.

“I’m keeping it, I tried giving it back but he told me some stuff and turns out he doesn’t need it after all.”

“So he IS rich?!”

“Yeah... although not from anything cool or fun. His rich parents died recently.”

“Oh shit, that sucks. That must’ve been an awkward conversation.”

“Not really. I don’t know why but talking to him is getting easier and easier. I even stayed after he told me I could go.”

“You really must like him then, damn. Can’t blame you though, he is hot.” You shot her an angry look but you both knew she was right. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

“Do about what?”

“You liking him. He obviously likes you a lot too, so what happens next?”

“Nothing. He’s my professor.”

The look she shot you next said something reminiscent of ‘are you fucking serious’.

“Oh come on y/n this guy is hot, and rich, and super into you. Even if he is your professor you can’t pass up a fling at least.”

“And when it ends? What then? Or if someone finds out he’s fucking a student? He’d lose his job and it would be my fault.”

“No, it would be his fault, and he’s rich anyway so it wouldn’t even matter.”

You thought back to your last conversation with Baekhyun, and what he said about his parents. Even if he did choose to risk it for you, the thought of him losing a job that meant so much to him still didn’t sit right with you.

“It would matter to me. Either way I don’t want other students shit talking me either. If my classmates found out there was something between us it would be hell.”

“All I'm hearing right now, is that you just need to not get caught. The semester is only 16 weeks, as long as nothing gets out while you’re in his class nothing too bad can happen. You just have to be careful.”

You thought about it, and she wasn’t exactly wrong. As long as nothing got out while you were his student, nothing too bad could happen.

“He won’t lose his job if people find out we’re together later on when I’m not his student anymore, right?”

Mia shrugged. “He doesn’t hold any power over you anymore then so I don’t see why he’d get in any trouble. People might just think it’s weird since he’s older. How old is he anyway? He looks young.”

“I’m not exactly sure... Somewhere around 30? Late 20s maybe? I should ask him.”

“Yeah you should. I still have homework I need to do, I should get back to that.” She said before getting herself a glass of water and retreating back to her bedroom.

The next morning you were exhausted. You hadn’t gotten much sleep because of everything that was going through your head. You wanted Baekhyun, and he wanted you, but there was still too much risk involved. But part of you kept thinking about what Mia had said as well. Could a fling really be that bad?

You were nervous to see him too. You still hadn’t given him an answer to his question, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to dodge it forever. Lying seemed like a decent option, but you knew with how honest and vulnerable Baekhyun always was with you, you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to lie to him. Especially when you did want something more with him, you were just scared.

As philosophy class drew closer and closer you felt uneasy. You felt bad seeing Baekhyun again without giving him an answer, but you didn’t know how or what to say. You only hoped he wouldn’t press you for it.

Class went by and you didn’t speak to him. He didn’t keep you after either, which was a relief. You had been hoping he’d at least go over some stuff that would help you on your essay, but you had no such luck, and you needed it done by midnight if you wanted any credit.

When you got home you cursed yourself for procrastinating so much, but you had other homework too and you knew you’d be able to focus on that better, so you started it first.

Eventually your mind got sucked into your physics assignment, and you forgot about Baekhyun and the essay, too focused on the task at hand.

By the time you were done with your other assignments it was 8pm. Four hours until you had to submit your essay. One hour went by just reading and rereading the text you were supposed to write about. Another was wasted on an intro paragraph you kept deleting, because you still couldn’t understand the text. When 10pm hit, and you started to panic.

You realized that you weren’t going to be able to do it. Your mind was now in freak out mode and you couldn’t concentrate anyway. Either the paper wasn’t getting turned in at all, or you needed to do something fast. In any other class you would’ve BS-ed your way through it to turn at least something in, but you just couldn’t do that knowing Baekhyun was going to read it. You weren’t going to be able to submit it that night, but you needed to at least contact him and explain so he wouldn’t think you were stupid.

By 10:30 you found yourself scrolling through your contacts, staring at his name. You’d thought about emailing him, but he probably wouldn’t see until morning and you didn’t have that much time.

In hindsight you probably would’ve been fine to just send an email and try to get an extension, but the combination of anxiety over your grade and wanting to talk to him had his name in your phone looking better and better.

So you called.

Your nerves were on fire as you waited for him to hopefully pick up. Was this stupid? Would he even answer? Worst of all, what if he was disappointed in you for not being able to do the assignment?

After a few rings, he picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi Baekhyun, it’s y/n.”

“Y/n? Are you alright what’s going on?” You could hear the concern in his voice even over the phone, and you remembered why he gave you his number in the first place.

“I- I can’t do the essay.” You felt your voice shake, before unloading all your grievances in one breath “I read the thing a million times and I still have no idea what it’s about and I put it off until tonight cause it was making me so anxious but I still can’t focus and now it’s too late and I don’t know what to do and I’m freaking out.”

You heard him sigh. “Slow down, It’s okay, I know it’s a difficult assignment. Have you at least started?”

“No..” You felt tears swelling in your eyes, threatening to spill and you’re sure he can hear it in your voice even over the phone. “Can I just skip this one? I tried to start it so many times but I don’t know how to analyze something I can’t even understand.” You choked out.

“Y/n...” You could tell he was thinking of what to do. He probably shouldn’t give you special treatment, and you knew that but right now you hoped he would just give in. Unfortunately you had no such luck. “I’m sorry but I can’t let you just not do it. It would make it too obvious that I’m treating you differently than other students.”

“Then can you at least help me? Or give me more time? Please?” You begged.

“I’m still in my office. I can help you if you meet me here.”

You felt your palms get sweaty and your heart beat faster at the idea of going to his office again after what had happened last time, especially this late at night and in such a fragile state.

“O-okay. I’ll be there in 10. Bye.” You said, hanging up before he could respond.

Quickly you got on some shoes and drove yourself to the building his office was located in. Last time you’d been in there he’d asked you about your feelings for him, and now you had to go back. You told yourself to just focus on getting the essay done, but the thought still hung around in the back of your mind as you walked down the hall towards Baekhyun’s office. You felt jittery and embarrassed, but you needed to do this for your grade.

After taking a few deep breaths to ready yourself, you knocked on the door, and heard a muffled “Come in” from the other side, so you let yourself in. Baekhyun was sitting at his desk, which was covered in papers you assumed he’d been grading. Instead of the nicer clothes he would usually wear during lecture, he was just wearing a black t shirt and sweats now.

“You know you scared the shit out of me when you called. I thought you were in danger or something.” He said to you as you sat down in front of him. “I really didn’t think you’d call me over school work.”

“I’m sorry..”

“It’s okay! I’m not mad or anything, just surprised. What part of the text are you having trouble with?”

“All of it...” You felt your lip starting to quiver. “I’m sorry I know this sounds so stupid and you probably think I’m just trying to take advantage of how you like me but I promise it’s not like that.” You said, looking down and fidgeting with your hands, trying to hide the frustration on your face.

Baekhyun crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, smiling. “I never said I thought that. I told you it’s not an easy assignment, it’s ok if you’re having trouble. Plato can be difficult especially for people who aren’t used to reading things that old.”

“I should’ve at least started earlier...”

“Probably, but it’s too late to dwell on that now. Let’s just try to go over the reading together, yeah?” You nodded.

He moved his chair to your side of the desk before opening your textbook to the reading for the essay.

“So the first thing that makes The Ring of Gyges so confusing is that you don’t really know who’s talking. Basically it’s a conversation between Plato and his brother Glaucon where they’re discussing justice, and it’s actually Glaucon speaking for most of it, not Plato.”

You were listening to what he was saying of course, but you were still distracted by the proximity. Baekhyun was sitting right next to you now, arms almost touching. The only other time the two of you got that close was at the club. And you did not need to be thinking about that while he was explaining your assignment to you.

“Are you following me so far?”

Your eyes immediately shot up from the book to meet his, and you quickly nodded. Having him look you in the eyes again like that made your face feel hot.

“Glaucon argues that people only peruse justice for the benefits of it, and not because they actually want to be good people. He uses the example of a ring that grants it’s user invisibility, therefore allowing them to do unjust things like steal without being caught. He tells Plato a story about a man who finds such a ring and uses it do overthrow the king.”

You groaned. “It still doesn’t make sense though, what does some story about a stupid ring have to do with justice?”

“Well, if you were given the ability to steal and deceive people for your own benefit, without ever having to worry about getting caught, wouldn’t you do it too?” You stayed silent. “Basically, what you need to understand is what Glaucon is arguing. He’s saying that doing good deeds isn’t a part of human nature, and everyone would behave unjustly if they knew they would never get caught. Therefore, justice is something people pursue not out of want, but out of fear of the consequences if they don’t.”

All you could do was stare at him. It was infuriating how attractive he sounded while explaining it to you.

“Do you have a bit of a better idea what to write about now? Remember it’s only two pages, so don’t stress too much.”

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts. “Yeah, it makes a bit more sense now... do I still need to finish it tonight or?”

“Friday. Just email it to me by midnight on Friday and I won’t count it late.” He said, smiling again.

“Thank you for doing this, I’m sorry it was so late and everything.”

Baekhyun just chucked, “You know if it’s you I don’t mind. You could keep me here all night with questions and I wouldn’t stop you. But you understand now, right?”

The way he was smiling at you now along with the closeness was making you slightly dizzy.

“I think so, Glaucon is basically saying that injustice is better than justice then right? Because everyone would do unjust things if they’d always get away with it.”

Baekhyun nodded.

“So according to him the best way to live life would be to do things you know are wrong, but without being caught.”

“Exactly. See, I knew you were smart, y/n.” A smirk had made its way onto his face as he spoke.

You couldn’t help connecting what he was saying to what you were feeling inside towards him. You wanted him, and you knew it was wrong, but how could you deny it to yourself when it felt so right?

“Baekhyun...” You asked, hesitantly. “D-do you think it’s okay to do things you know are wrong, as long as no one finds out?”

“I think it depends what you’re talking about.” He answered, now looking you in the eyes again with intensity. “I would never kill anyone, for any reason, even if I knew I could get away with it. But, if I really wanted something, I think I would take it.”

You were hyperaware of how his eyes were now scanning your face, lingering on your lips. “Take what?”

A hand made contact with your thigh, slowly moving up until he stopped, right below the hem of your shorts. His thumb drew soft circles on the sensitive inner flesh, giving you goosebumps.

“I know you feel it too, you want this, don’t you?” Baekhyun asked, now moving a stand of hair out of your face. He let his hand rest on the back of your neck, keeping you facing towards him.

Your heart felt like it was about to short circuit from how fast it was beating. Your palms were sweaty and you could feel yourself shaking slightly. The way his thumb stroked your neck beneath your ear made you shiver, and you knew he saw. All you could do was stare back at him, dumbfounded. Any words you tried to get out stuck in your throat. He was right, you did want it. Now more than ever.

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now. I dare you.” He said, running his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes fixed on how it trembled beneath his touch. He was slowly moving your face closer his, but you didn’t stop him.

Your silence told Baekhyun all he needed to know, and his lips quickly found yours. Immediately you let yourself melt into the kiss. You felt your whole body buzzing, finally getting what it had wanted for so long. His lips felt unbelievably soft against yours, moving in a slow rhythm as his other hand came up from your thigh to cup your face as well. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, letting it become messier and more desperate.

“I like you” you pulled away just enough to whisper “so fucking much.” You felt him grin into the kiss as your lips met again.

He tasted like strawberries, and you felt high as your lips kept crashing together with more and more need. Your whole body felt like it was set on fire and simultaneously dunked in an ice bath, every nerve vibrating with want.

When Baekhyun pulled your bottom lip gently between his teeth you let out a soft moan, and he started to lose it. He broke the kiss, standing up and pulling with him, before backing you up against the wall, a hand on either side of your head.

“Sweetheart, don’t push me” He breathed, and started peppering kisses along the side of your neck, from under your ear down to your collarbone, sucking and biting on the way.

Trapped between him and the wall, you felt weak and breathless. Your brain was in overdrive and you gasped at his ministrations, hands burying themselves in his soft hair. His hands had traveled down to your waist, holding you against him tightly.

“Baekhyun” You breathed out, rubbing your thighs together as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot.

“Fuck, y/n. Don’t say that.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth.

His body pressed you into the wall, and your arms wrapped around him pulling him into you even tighter. He was completely consuming your senses and your knees felt wobbly from the intensity of it all. He was already smothering your entire front, but you tried to pull him even closer regardless.

You felt something hard press into your hip as his mouth covered yours again, and this time you shamelessly moaned his name into his open mouth.

Much to your disappointment, Baekhyun immediately detatched himself from you, backing up until his back hit the opposite wall of the office. You could see how turned on he was by the outline of his dick through his pants and the pained look in his face.

“Fucking christ...” He said, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. You just watched from the other side of the room. He kept his eyes closed and you observed as his jaw clenched and unclenched before you heard him continue. “You have to go. If you don’t I’m gonna fuck you on my desk and I won’t be gentle.”

Your throat went dry at his crude words, but you couldn’t deny your own arousal. You walked back towards him, reaching out to touch his chest which was now rising and falling rapidly, but he grabbed you before you could make contact. His grip on your wrist was so tight it was almost painful. His knuckles were white, and you could see a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his face.

His eyes bore into your own with a stare that warned you not to try anything more.

“I’m sorry y/n but you have to leave. Not tonight. Not like this.” With his free hand he grabbed your belongings off his desk, shoving them into your arms.

Still speechless, he opened the door and pulled you outside before going back in and closing the door behind him. You stood and stared at his office door for a minute, recollecting yourself and processing what the hell had just happened.

Eventually your shaky legs began making their way down the hallway, back towards your car. You were pretty sure a janitor saw you as you turned the corner just down the hall from Baekhyun’s office. You kept your head down, trying to hide your face best you could while hurrying past.

Once you were sitting in your car, you slumped into the seat, mind still in a daze after what happened in Baekhyun’s office. You waited for your breathing and heartrate to slow down before you drove away.

Baekhyun left shorty after you as well, unable to concentrate on anything but the sound of you moaning his name. He felt terrible for throwing you out of his office but he’d meant what he said. He didn’t want his first time to have you to be in his office, purely fueled by pent up lust. He wanted to give you more than that.

More than anything, he just couldn’t believe he’d gotten what he’d wanted for the entire summer. It didn’t seem possible, but now it had happened. And you actually kissed him back. It felt too good to be true. He felt himself once again struggling to sleep, but this time because he was too excited. This time, he didn’t have to keep himself up wondering, he knew he had you. He just couldn’t wait to see what would happed now.

You on the other hand couldn’t stop worrying about that exact thing as you stared at the ceiling above your bed. What would happen now? The thoughts weren’t fearful anymore, there was just too many of them to shut your mind down enough to sleep.

You’d finally allowed yourself to give into him, and there was no more turning back.

Next Chapter

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo fluff #exo smut

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intimidating-fettuccine · 3 years

Note

don't know if you have written this before, but an scenario with LJ finding that his S/O is pregnant and how he would handle?

You had always been a bit worried about how to tell Jack that you had gotten pregnant. After all, looking at Jack's line of work, it was quite obvious that he didn't have the best track record when it came to children. You knew the odds of Jack hurting a child that belonged to the two of you was extremely slim, but still; would he even want the child? Did Jack even want to become a parent?

It was something the two of you had never really discussed, and you probably should have had that conversation already, but hindsight is 20/20. You'd tried to think of all the different ways you could broach the subject with him, but the more you thought about it the more stressed you became, and wanting to keep your stress level as low as possible, you'd decided to just tell him flat out, rather than trying to come up with some intricate plan for telling him. That was how you'd found yourself in your current situation.

"You-you're what?" Jack had been sitting quietly in the corner of your bedroom, working on knitting one of his newest little stuffed animals, when you had all but blurted it out to him.

"I'm pregnant." You'd told him after a big swallow, resting your hands upon your stomach, nervously rubbing along your growing belly.

"Pregnant." He'd said the word fast, almost in disbelief as he stared off into the distance. His fingers were twitching nervously, and he seemed to be deep in thought and surprise over the new revelation you had made for him.

"Yes. About four months along." You'd told him, shifting from side to side on your feet as you watched him. He'd answered that with a "Huh", and continued sitting there, as if considering a bunch of different things all at once.

"Alrighty then." He'd finally said after a few moments of silence, before going back to his knitting, and you stood there gobsmacked with your mouth hanging open as you watched him.

"That- That's it? You don't have any issues or anything?" You'd asked him nervously, and he lifted his eyes to analyze your form, your hands clutched around your stomach and your eyes wide in confusion and fear. With a sigh, Jack set down his knitting needles and beckoned you over to him, situating you on his lap when you reached him.

"I didn't ask to be a father. I didn't ask for this to happen. But I also didn't ask to meet the most wonderful person in the entire world and take them on as my spouse," He began, stroking his hands across your cheeks, "I can't say I'm 100% ready to be a father yet. But I can say that I'm not going to abandon you. I love you more than anything in the world, and even if the thought of being a dad makes me want to violently spew vomit across the room," You'd made a face at that and he laughed, poking your nose, "I'm not going to abandon you, or the child."

"You really mean it?" You asked him a final time, looking into his eyes in search of any forms of hesitation, and he smiled at you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

"Really. It's not like this isn't my fault, after all, I'm the one that got you into this mess." You hummed at that, leaning forward to rest against his form. The two of you sat in silence as he resumed his knitting.

"Four months, huh? Guess that means this is kinda your fault considering it was our anniversary four months ago, and if I remember correctly you had the great idea to-"

"You know, Jack, that's not important right now." You'd rushed out and cut him off, making him end up in a fit of laughter.

Sure, Jack didn't ask to be a dad, and he wasn't even sure if he wanted to be a dad. But there was always one thing he could guarantee, and that was that he'd never leave you alone, never abandon you, or abandon that child. He loved you more than life itself, and he was sure that he would love any child you gave birth to all the same.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack headcanon #laughing jack headcanons #laughing jack scenario #creepypasta scenarios #creepypasta scenario

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mymedicine · 4 years

Text

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #my writing #alo

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averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Ready As I’ll Ever Be

It’s late, here you go! Thanks to @becca-becky for the support and Remus jokes! I just needed some more happy Sides, and it kind of turned into hurt/comfort at the end, but I still like it! This fic is on Ao3 here!

Warnings: spoilers for the new ep!! And some nsfw-gore jokes typical of Remus.

Summary: After Roman and Virgil retreat to the common room to gush about Thomas’ new date, they have to confront both the other Sides and their growing worry. Because maybe they’re not ready for this, after all.

Words: 5596

It was quiet in the Mindscape when Roman and Virgil appeared. But not for long.

“--and maybe we should get him flowers, red ones, bring them to the first date--”

“We haven’t gotten a date yet,” Virgil reminded Roman, flopping onto the couch and pulling a pillow to his chest. “Well, a date for the date.”

Roman perched on the top of the couch and pouted. “He said he wanted to!”

“He said he wanted to,” Virgil agreed, his mouth twitching in a smile once again.

“So it’s as good as given!” Roman beamed, waving his hands in circles. “Besides, flowers don’t have to wait for a date!”

“What do you suggest,” Virgil asked, “toss them in his mailbox?”

Roman drew himself up. “Yes!”

“We don’t know where he lives!”

“We could find out!”

Virgil smirked. “Creepy.”

“Romantic!” Roman placed a hand on his chest in affronted indignation, but his smile was still wide. “You just don’t understand love. We place the roses--roses? Roses--the roses in his mailbox, along with a note of our undying affection--”

Virgil huffed and started tugging at the edge of the pillow to work out the bubbly energy in his hands. “Undying affection?”

“Yes! He has agreed to a date, and therefore we must woo him!”

“Sure.” Virgil tossed the pillow at Roman’s face. Roman batted it away with ease. “Look, Princey, I know glass houses and all, but you need to relax.”

“I am relaxed!” Roman screeched. “Perfectly relaxed!”

“Sure,” Virgil said again, grabbing another pillow and worrying it between his hands. Roman was rocking back and forth on the couch now, kicking his legs out, muttering something about “learning the language of flowers so he can convey the message that they are soulmates, bound by destiny.”

“Relax,” Virgil said again, his voice going softer than he intended. “He’ll like us anyway--actually, he’ll probably like Thomas more if he doesn’t send him flowers like a stalker.”

Roman threw back his head and glared at Virgil with no real anger. Virgil scrunched up his nose.

“I want to woo him,” Roman complained, crossing his arms petulantly and balancing even more precariously on the top of the couch.

“You don’t have to,” Virgil said.

“I want to!” Roman waved a hand in a complex motion. “Why would he buy what we’re selling if we don’t woo him? Where’s the fun? Why would he--if we’re not trying to impress him, what if he--”

“Hey.” Virgil sat up and gave Roman a little smile. “He’s--it’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Roman laughed. “You’re telling me--”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Virgil threw another pillow at Roman and realized he’d run out of pillows to fidget with. He settled for shifting his weight back and forth and shaking his fists.

“He’ll like us anyway,” Roman said, and Virgil hadn’t heard him sound like this ever since--ever since their ex wasn’t their ex. Soft and fragile and delicate and so...loving. “He likes us.”

“He likes us,” Virgil repeated, a smile spreading over his own face, unbidden. He’d never felt like this ever since their ex. Bubbly and shaky and popping at the edges like fireworks. Sparkles and rainbows and all sorts of stuff that was seriously not his brand. This shouldn’t be safe, this should be setting off every alarm he had, throwing him into panic.

Instead he was just smiling. Smiling like he’d never done anything else. Hands flapping and knees hitting each other and breathless in the best possible way.

Not love, of course. Not yet. But a chance at it.

A chance that Virgil hoped they’d take.

“He likes us, Virgil!” Roman squealed, falling over the back of the couch to land in a pile on the one remaining cushion. He adjusted his sash and let his head droop to the floor, giving Virgil an upside-down smile. “He’s so cute, and nice, and funny, and smart--”

“And supportive,” Virgil added despite himself. “Thought it was cool that Thomas makes videos--”

“His song! The one he showed Thomas!” Roman placed a hand on his heart and sighed. “Pure music.”

Virgil blushed harder. “U-um. You know what--we could probably--duets. We could--”

“Oh my flipping goodness.” Roman’s eyes somehow widened even further. “Oh my hecking heck, by the alluring song of the seductive siren, Virgil, we could do duets with him.”

“We could!” Virgil grinned wildly. “We could sing--sing from--”

His words were getting jumbled. He shook his hands more and bobbed his head, trying to settle all the bubbly feelings. Too many thoughts, and not in the usual overwhelming way--like they were all clamoring for attention and squeezing into every space in his brain. He couldn’t stop thinking, remembering Nico’s smile and twinkling eyes and the exact cadence of his voice. He couldn’t stop beaming.

“Sing from what?” Roman asked when Virgil’s dissolved into a few hums and silence.

“Nightmare Before Christmas,” Virgil said. “You know--”

Roman gasped and Virgil swore he saw stars in his eyes. “Oh my goodness! Thomas and Nico need to do that right now, immediately.”

“I know,” Virgil said, “right?”

“I know,” Roman said, “right?”

They were quiet for a few seconds, grinning at each other, then Roman chuckled and Virgil snickered and they dissolved into giggles. Virgil rocked back and forth, cupping his mouth. Roman did a whole-body shimmy that made him slip further off the couch.

“You look ridiculous,” Virgil managed between snickers.

“How dare you.” Roman stuck out his tongue and tried to maneuver himself back onto the couch, only managing to hit his head on the ground. Virgil laughed even harder and Roman laughed too, sash rumpled and eyes wide, looking at Virgil like Virgil was the reason he looked so happy. Like Virgil had done something right.

Well, Virgil had. Apparently.

He’d made this happen.

He’d put this smile on Roman’s face.

How was he supposed to calm down and stop laughing when he’d done that?

“Nico,” Roman sang, riffing so much it ran through two or three octaves. “Nico, Nico, Nico Flores.”

“Composing a ballad for the occasion?”

“As a matter of fact, yes!” Roman wrinkled his nose. “Nothing rhymes with Flores.”

“Bores.” Virgil leaned back and rested his head on the arm of the couch, still shaking his hands out. “Snores.”

“No, no, it’s Flor-es.”

“Snore-es.”

“He’s not a snore!” Roman retorted. “He’s--he’s perfect.”

“Nah, nobody’s perfect.” Virgil sighed in a sickeningly sappy way. “He’s ours, though.”

“He’s ours,” Roman agreed.

For a second, there was blissful silence, save for Virgil’s happy hums.

“Nico,” Roman sang again, this time sliding up and down the scale. “Nicoooo--”

“Stop,” Virgil said, not really caring too much but feeling he should try and be a little cynical and bitter to offset all the soppiness. Roman stopped immediately. “At least have a tune,” Virgil amended.

“Nico,” Roman sang to the tune of Can You Feel The Love Tonight. “Nico, oh lovely Nico, light of my life, my eternal soul--”

“Please tell me you won’t actually sing this to him.”

“I promise nothing.” Roman waved his hands around more energetically. “Nico, dearest Nico, lovely one--”

“Doesn’t have a tune anymore,” Virgil said, grinning. “You lost it.”

“I’m improvising, Dull Out Boy.” Roman snickered. “Nico, you’re very cool, would you like to come to France--”

“We can’t go to France--”

“But picture it!“ Roman spread his hands. “Soft candlelight, the starry skies over the city, the rush of cars below as the wind whips our hair, a scrumptious meal spread over the tablecloth, his eyes shining as we eat atop the Eiffel Tower--”

“Whoa, hold on, what?” Virgil waved his hands. “You can’t eat on top of the--plus that’s like really high up--”

“Fine, then, we’ll just be looking at the Eiffel Tower.” Roman pulled his hands to his chest and squealed. “Nico though!”

“Nico though,” Virgil agreed. “You’re a sap.”

“You’re a sap.”

“I’m not.” Virgil felt a need to defend himself. “We’re all wired up ‘cause of this. We’re parts of Thomas.”

“True.” Roman laughed. “I bet Specs is completely fine, though.”

“Why?” Virgil asked.

“Well, you know, he’s--” Roman looked more uncomfortable with every word. He petered out with a weak wave of his hands.

“I’m Anxiety and I’m head over heels,” Virgil said. “He’s probably a mess just like you and me.”

“You’re head over heels?” Roman asked, grinning even wider.

“What--” Virgil spluttered. “I mean--yeah, I thought it was obvious--Thomas is--”

“And you’re--” Roman wriggled closer. “You like him.”

“Yeah, duh?”

“You like him!” Roman laughed triumphantly. “I knew it!”

Virgil snickered. “You agreeing with me isn’t, like, a win for you,”

“You like him!” Roman repeated once more. “You don’t like anyone! And you--you like him!”

“Um, yeah.” Virgil flushed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “He’s, um--pretty cool.”

“You’re such a softie,” Roman said, shaking his head.

“Roman,” Virgil complained.

“Oh, was that--” Roman’s smile fell. “I didn’t mean to--was that the wrong thing to say?”

“I--” Virgil jerked upright. “No. Dude. I’m acting silly over this guy. It--it’s fine.”

And, he realized, it kind of was. Just for today. Virgil was a bit soft today, and only Roman could see, and that was alright for now. Virgil was riding high, over the moon, every stupid metaphor in the book. Virgil’s guard was all the way down.

He’d regret this later. Obviously. But hindsight was 20/20 and right now he was enjoying the moment.

“I like him,” Virgil said, blushing but keeping his chin up. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, smiling back. “So do I.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Hey!” Roman rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad because my song moved you to tears.”

“Tears of laughter, yeah.” Virgil grinned. “Ask Logan for help, he’s better with the rhymes.”

“He’d mock me!” Roman complained. “He wouldn’t understand the love behind every word!”

“Hey, like I said, we’re all sunny and whatnot.” Virgil shrugged. “It’s probably your best chance, if I’m being honest.”

Roman tapped his chin. “No time like the present, right?”

“What?” Virgil’s eyes widened. “I dunno if that’s a good--”

“Specs!” Roman called, waving a hand. “Get in here, we need your help!”

Virgil scrambled into a sitting position and tucked his hands under his legs. Just in time. Logan rose up next to the stairs, notebook in hand, a pen tucked behind his ear and his tie slightly lopsided. His hair was fluffed up a bit around his forehead and he rubbed at his eyes as he turned around to blink at Roman and Virgil.

“Sup,” Virgil said, feeling suddenly a lot less confident. He betted his eyeshadow had gone back to black.

“Specs!” Roman cried, grinning. “Why, hello!”

“What do you need?” Logan asked, folding his notebook to his chest and giving Roman a cool glare. “I’m busy.”

“I need your help!”

“You--” Logan looked taken aback for a second. “With what?”

Roman spread his arms. “Words!”

“Could you be more specific?”

“Words for our precious prince!” Roman paused. “Not me, but, you know, him. Well, me too, since I’m making the words, they’re just not addressed to me--”

Logan blinked. “What are you talking about it?”

“Oh, he doesn’t--” Roman jumped up and waved his hands. “So! Specs, you’re seriously not gonna believe this--”

“Let me tell it,” Virgil interrupted. “So, we were at the mall--”

“--there was this guy, and he was a ten out of ten--no, eleven or twelve, beyond numbers--”

“--Thomas was being an idiot like usual--”

“--fake with a plastic plant--”

“--guy came out of the bathroom stall--”

“--carrots are still vile and villainous--”

“--and I encouraged his stupidity for some reason--”

“--and now we have a date!”

Logan didn’t look enlightened by their frantic explanation, probably because they were talking over each other excitedly, Virgil starting to flap again and Roman bouncing on his heels.

“Date!” Roman squealed. “Date, Logan. His name’s Nico and he’s so wonderful and--”

“You realize I know all this?” Logan said slowly. “I’m also a part of Thomas.”

“Oh.” Roman stared at Logan. “Oh, right.”

“But you’re not--” Virgil didn’t know how to explain it. Logan looked normal. Kind of pissy, actually. Not like he’d been affected at all--well, maybe Roman was right. Maybe Logic wasn’t affected. He’d been affected with Thomas’ ex, though--did that mean their attraction to Nico wasn’t as full--did that mean there was something wrong--

C’mon, Virgil. In and out. This wasn’t worry time. Not yet.

“Aren’t you excited?” Roman finished. “We have a date!”

“You seem to be covering the excited portion of things,” Logan said cooly. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t been here before.”

“He’s so cool though!” Roman burst out, rocking on the balls of his feet. “And smart, and he writes poetry, I know you’d appreciate that--”

“I know--” Logan tensed a bit. “Poetry?”

“Poetry!” Roman squealed, doing a little twirl on the carpet. “Poetry, Specs, he’s a poet!”

“Huh.” Logan coughed a bit, and Virgil saw a bit of red on his cheeks. “Well, I--didn’t notice that part. That’s--adequate, I suppose.”

“Way more than adequate!” Roman spun again, arms wide. “Spiffing and spectacular and supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

"Whatever you say.” Logan backed towards the door. “I still am busy, though, so if you’ll excuse me--”

“No, come on, celebrate with us!” Roman darted forward and grabbed Logan’s arm. “You can’t seriously say you’re not happy for Thomas!”

“Of course I’m not,” Logan said, removing Roman’s hand from his sleeve. “I don’t feel happiness.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but love.” Roman batted his eyes. “True love. How can you scorn it?”

“We’ve known him for less than a day.”

“A wondrous day! Calooh calay!” Roman spun back over to Virgil. “Emo Nightmare knows what I mean.”

“He does?” Logan blinked at Virgil as if registering him for the first time. That made sense. Roman was good at stealing the spotlight. Virgil squirmed under Logan’s gaze, giving him a little salute. “I would assume you were nervous.”

“Well, now that you say it--” Virgil huffed and leaned back into the couch. “This is--cool. He’s--cool. I don’t mind.”

“Huh,” Logan said again.

“See, even our favorite gloomy goober is on board!” Roman clasped his hands in front of his chest. “Please, Specs, can’t you give us your seal of approval?”

“I cannot give you a seal,” Logan said, “surely you could summon one if it was necessary--”

“Wrong seal.” Roman pursed his lips and widened his eyes. “Pretty please?”

Logan’s mouth curled into an incredulous wince. “Don’t. Please don’t do that. Ever again.”

“Aww.”

“Look, I don’t see why you need me to condone any of this,” Logan said, waving a hand. “It’s already happened. You both seem excited. Logic plays no role in these proceedings. It’s clear that my endorsement of this would mean absolutely nothing.”

“To Thomas, maybe,” Virgil said, working up the nerve to address the wrongness he felt welling up. “To us, though--”

“It’d mean we’re doing the right thing,” Roman finished, his voice quiet. “You’re the smart one, right? You’d know if this was--a mistake.”

“Oh,” Logan said softly. “Oh, I see.”

Virgil pulled at his sleeve, avoiding Logan’s gaze.

“So,” Roman said, the word drawn out and fragile. “What do you think of him?”

Logan took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

Virgil’s hands twisted tighter around his sleeve.

“You already know that I believe Thomas has far too many acquaintances,” Logan continued, looking like he hated every word that came out of his mouth. “A new romantic relationship, despite being the end goal of some humans, would distract him even more. Not only with time spent, but also with emotional capacity.”

Roman frowned. “Yeah, but--”

“It will make my job ten times harder,” Logan said, starting to pace back and forth. “Logic will be figuratively overwhelmed by hormones and feelings, and schedules will be harder to maintain. And what if he affects our future goals? We have a solid career and this could jeopardize it, as a public figure an ill-advised relationship could have serious consequences--”

“Lo?” Virgil asked.

“And don’t get me started on the--ugh--emotional ramifications.” Logan ran his hand through his hair. “Are we ready for a relationship at this scale? What if we aren’t compatible? Most relationships do not last forever, and we would have to navigate yet another heartbreak, which would send Patton into turmoil and once again rob me of any sort of control. With Thomas as fragile as he is, emotionally, it’s a loaded choice to dive into another situation that could make or break his self-esteem--”

“Logan!”

Logan jerked his head up. Roman’s eyes were wide and he’d stopped bouncing.

“I--” Logan took a breath and smoothed his tie. “Apologies. I seem to have--upset you.”

“Don’t,” Virgil said. “I’ve been thinking all that stuff too. It’s fine.”

“And that’s not what I asked,” Roman said. “I asked what you think of him.”

“Him?”

“Nico.”

“Nico,” Logan repeated, and Virgil swore he heard a dip in Logan’s voice. “Nico, he’s--he seems like an upstanding citizen and a good fit for Thomas.”

“Boring,” Roman teased. “Try again.”

“He’s--he’s financially stable to a degree--”

“Try again.”

Logan groaned and rubbed his nose. “Roman, you’re being insufferable--”

“I want to know what you think,” Roman said, his voice achingly soft. “Not Nico’s Pokemon stats.”

“Nerd,” Virgil mumbled.

“Punk,” Roman fired back.

“He’s--” Logan took one more shaky breath, drawing Virgil and Roman’s attention again. “He’s a poet.”

“Yeah,” Roman agreed, a smile poking at his lips.

“He understands music theory,” Logan said, his voice stronger. He tapped his foot on the ground. “He held up an entire conversation about lyrics and diction, and he clearly understands the subtleties of creating an effective song.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, grinning. “And he let Thomas talk--”

“He let Thomas talk!” Logan agreed. His hand was tapping in time with his foot now. “Even when Thomas was incorrect, he was kind about it, and Thomas was able to teach him things too--he said Thomas was smart--”

“He said Thomas was smart!” Roman gushed, fists balled under his chin.

“He’s smart!” Logan burst out, eyes wide and his hands flying. “He’s smart and he’s capable and he has all sorts of knowledge and we could learn things from him, so many things, and he’d let us--”

Logan trailed off with a wild squeak and a shimmy of his fists, pretty close to Roman’s bouncing. He was flushed, eyes sparkling, and the corners of his lips were definitely turned up. Logan was smiling. Just a bit. And that made every doubt in Virgil’s stomach disappear.

“You like him,” Virgil breathed, because he had to make sure.

“I--” Logan looked self-conscious. “Yes. I like him a lot.”

“Specs approves!” Roman declared, rushing up and grabbing Logan’s hands, pulling him in a circle. “Today is indeed a glorious day--oh, did you see part of his song--”

“The lyrics were extremely well-crafted,” Logan agreed, his voice brighter than Virgil had heard in weeks, his smile growing wider as Roman spun him around and around.

“You like him!” Roman gasped, beaming. “You like him, Specs--”

“Yes!” Logan burst out, and his smile turned into a grin. “Yes, I do, he’s wonderful--”

“He’s wonderful!” Roman echoed, still pulling Logan around the room in a makeshift dance. Logan allowed himself to be led, giggling under his breath, hair falling over his forehead and eyes shining.

“We did it, guys,” Virgil couldn’t help but say, shaking his fists once again. “We did it, we did it--we have a date--”

“A date, and all thanks to you!” Roman swept over and offered a hand. Virgil took it hesitantly and Roman tugged him gently to the middle of the living room. No twirling, but Roman’s huge smile made Virgil just as breathless as if he’d been tugged around. “A date, a date, oh, I’m so excited--”

“I didn’t do much,” Virgil protested, grinning.

“Didn’t do much?” Roman repeated as if Virgil had insulted another Disney movie. “You did everything!”

“There was a problem, and you solved it.” Logan leaned over to Virgil and squeezed his hand, and if pressed, Virgil would never admit how his eyeshadow deepened. “Thank you, Virgil.”

“He’s so flustered!” Roman teased, and Virgil stuck out his tongue and pressed closer to Logan’s side.

“Your eyeshadow,” Logan murmured. “Virgil, it’s--”

“Sparkly? Yeah.” Virgil bit his lip. “You know. Tingly feeling after achieving something you didn’t believe was possible.”

“It looks heavenly on you!” Roman clapped his hands. “Now I want some sparkly makeup, hold on--”

“Focus, Roman,” Logan said fondly.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, whatever you wanted from me originally?”

“Which was--” Roman blinked several times and stuck out his tongue in concentration. “Hmm.”

“Heh.” Virgil elbowed him. “Poetry?”

“Poetry!” Roman twirled. “My good nerd, you understand the need for an epic aria to commemorate this day, correct?”

“I--” Logan raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“And I’m struggling with the rhymes and the reasons.” Roman clasped Logan’s hands to his chest. “I beseech thee, provide me with words that do justice to his wonder!”

“Effervescent,” Logan said automatically. “Vivacious. Pulchritudinous.”

“I have no idea how to rhyme any of those, but it’s a start!” Roman pulled Logan to the couch and tossed himself onto one end. Logan sat at the other end, kicking up a leg on the armrest and already scribbling in his notebook. Virgil took his time sitting on the floor next to them, enjoying just seeing his idiots getting along, swapping rhymes and smiling widely and already spreading bits of paper on the floor.

It was freaking awesome.

So of course it couldn’t last.

In the middle of a long monologue from Logan about the pros and cons of using iambic pentameter, which both Virgil and Roman were dutifully listening to, a bloody heart sailed through the air and smacked Roman in the face.

“Ew!” Roman cried, wiping blood off his cheek. “That’s vile, Remus!”

“You were looking for metaphors, right?” Remus appeared next to Virgil with a manic grin on his face and a notable cavity where his heart should be. “Thomas would tear out his heart for him.”

“Put it back in,” Roman pleaded, shoving the heart at Remus and covering his eyes. “Put it back in.”

“Wow, Ro, you really don’t understand love.” Remus reluctantly popped the heart into his chest, and with a sickening squelch, the skin grew back. “It was beautiful and poetic and you’re sleeping on it.”

“Just because a metaphor would work well in-poem doesn’t mean it fits literally,” Logan said. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, we’re busy,” Virgil said, hunching up his shoulders. “I don’t have time for your stupid attention games today.”

“Rude!” Remus complained, scrunching up his nose. “This is a special occasion, calm your tits.”

“A special what now?” Virgil groaned. “Oh no, did you stab Patton again?”

“No, you’d hear the screams.” Remus shimmied. “Thomas has a boyf!”

“They are not officially partners,” Logan corrected.

“Eh, bullsh*t.” Remus waved a hand and flopped onto the carpet, kicking a leg in the air. “Thomas is head over heels over d*ck, googoo gaga googly eyes, a small chicken in the woodchipper of love.”

Virgil winced. “The what now--”

“Which means they’re as good as f*cking!” Remus grinned. “Which means we gotta celebrate!”

“Oh, no.” Roman stared at Remus in abject horror. “You’re--don’t you dare start talking about Nico like--like--”

“Like what?” Remus put on an innocent face that fooled nobody. “All I’m saying is, I’d main him in Super Smash Bros--”

“Nope.” Virgil waved his hands in front of his face and squeezed his eyes shut. “Nope, nope, nope--”

“We’re done here,” Roman announced. “We are done here.”

Logan just sighed.

“Guys, c’mon, we were all thinking it!” Remus rolled his eyes. “He’s a hottie, a hunk, a piece of meat, and I would commit murder for him!”

“Please don’t,” Logan said.

“I would!” Remus sat up and stared at them intently. “I would cut a million throats and watch the blood pool from the bodies if it made him smile. Okay? Okay.”

“You’d do that anyway,” Virgil pointed out.

“It’s different!” Remus folded his arms. “You don’t get it. But I would--I would drive a tractor into a wall for him. I would jump out of a moving car.”

Roman shook his head. “I fail to see how this is different than your usual modus operandi.”

“Because him!” Remus waved wildly at everything. “Him! He’s all, you know--yeah!”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed reluctantly.

“Yeah,” Logan sighed.

“Yeah!” Roman squealed.

“All I’m saying is,” Remus said, doing another full-body shimmy that made his frills wiggle, “he’s cute, okay? He’s cute. And I would die for him.”

“Then perish,” Virgil said, because he had to.

“He is cute,” Roman said slowly, like he’d just realized Remus was speaking English.

“He is cute!” Remus squealed. “He’s all--and you know--and--”

Then he screeched. A full-blown foghorn wail. Virgil clapped his hands over his ears and Logan scrambled back instinctively. Remus wasn’t fazed. He vibrated up and down and squealed long and loud, eyes squeezed shut, hands in the air. It barely dipped in register and volume, and Virgil wondered if Remus needed to breathe. Wait, of course he didn’t. Which meant he could do this as long as he liked.

And it was really loud, and it was also--kind of--sweet?

Virgil cracked both his eyes open. Remus was still wiggling and squealing and a smile was threatening to burst off his face. Logan was rolling his eyes but giving Remus an indulgent smile. And Roman was looking at Remus with wide eyes, but not the usual ew-Remus-wtf eyes. And Roman was smiling, too.

And Roman squealed.

Roman squealed just as loud as Remus and managing to hit an even higher note. His hands came up and shook in front of his face, and he squealed.

Remus blinked and looked almost shocked, before his smile grew somehow even wider. And they both squealed. It was so loud and should have put Virgil so far on edge that he’d be falling off it.

And yeah, it was loud. Earsplitting, in fact. But not really that bad. Actually, it was kind of nice to see them smiling. Squealing. Vibrating at the speed of light and filling the room with happy noises.

Logan caught Virgil’s eye and shrugged. Virgil shrugged back, half-smiling.

Slowly, the squealing morphed into words. Garbled, choppy words, but words regardless.

“He’s--cute--I can’t handle--” Roman waved his hands wildly. “Cute! Pretty! I wanna--sweet--him!”

Remus nodded so much that he looked like a bobblehead doll. “Cute good very nice.”

“Very very nice!”

“Cute!”

“Cute,” Virgil added, grinning.

He got a double serving of bright smiles for that. Logan was chuckling to himself, watching Remus and Roman rock back and forth and seemingly communicate through singular words, hand motions, and occasional squeals. Virgil flapped along in rhythm and got another few glittering smiles, and Logan scribbled in his notebook, chewing on the top of the pen and even giving a few encouraging murmurs when Remus and Roman paused in their squealing.

Then footsteps.

Patton dashed into the room, Janus at his heels. “I heard screaming?”

Both Logan and Roman looked like they’d been hit in the face with a pan. Virgil probably looked the same. Remus grinned and waved, but even his hand fell to the ground soon enough.

Dead silence. For an achingly long time, so long that Virgil considered just ducking out. He settled for worrying the laces of his hoodie and staring at his sneakers.

“We were--” Logan opened his mouth, closed it, and swallowed. “There’s no cause for alarm. Roman and Remus were simply excited--”

“Date!” Remus yelled, jumping up and practically tackling Janus. “Date, Janny, and he’s a hottie--”

“Yes, do suffocate me, I didn’t have anything planned.” Janus pried Remus off with a grin. “Congratulations on your boy toy.”

“You helped!” Remus pointed out.

“Hardly,” Janus said, but Virgil knew him well enough to see the proud edge to his smile. “Virgil and Roman clearly had everything under control.”

“Hey,” Roman grumbled.

“He’s so cute!” Remus squealed.

“He’s dreamy,” Patton agreed, sighing.

“He’s certainly--” Janus coughed, his face red and scales gleaming. “He’s. Um.”

“Don’t hide it,” Remus teased, bumping Janus in the shoulder. “We all see your hands flapping.”

Janus looked down at his extra hands, which were twisting in several patterns and shaking around his sides. “Ah. Well--”

“It’s cute,” Patton gushed, doing a twirl and flap of his own. “Everyone’s happy, it’s okay--”

Janus glanced at Roman--and Logan, still silent on the couch--and Virgil, who looked away. His eyebrows pulled together.

“Well, I’ll certainly stick around for the aftermath,” Janus said, stepping away delicately and giving them all one last loaded look. “Have fun, and congratulations.”

“Jan,” Patton said, speaking up for the first time and grabbing his elbow. Janus turned to look at him and they seemed to have a whole conversation with just their eyes. Virgil’s stomach twisted at the sight--they knew each other so well now, and it had only been weeks, weeks of Patton and Janus getting close and Virgil skirting at the edges of their happiness, weeks of being alone--

The happiness in Virgil’s chest flickered and faded.

“It’s good news,” Logan said, and everyone jerked around to look at him. His hands were folded in his lap, but his voice was strong. “We should all celebrate.”

“Sure,” Roman said, an edge to his words, “doesn’t mean we have to do it all together--”

“We’re all parts of Thomas,” Logan said quietly. “We all helped make this happen.”

Roman let out a long sigh.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Logan added, his eyes skimming over Patton and Janus and resting on Virgil. Virgil squirmed under the eye contact, his hands flying over his sleeves, mind racing.

No. He didn’t want them there. He was celebrating and things would just get weird.

He’d thought that about Remus too, though.

“Do what you want,” Roman said, his voice defeated but just a bit soft. “It’s a big day. I get it.”

Janus swallowed. “I don’t want to--”

“Special occasion, right?” Roman rubbed at his arm. “And you did--try to help. With all those...lies. And I don’t like them. But--like Logan said. You tried to help. And now we have a date, and...it’s only fair that you get to stay.”

“Fair,” Janus repeated, an unspoken question hanging off it.

“Yeah.” Roman looked up, his eyes firm. “You’re a part of Thomas, and for today, let’s--put off all the overthinking?”

Janus pressed his lips together, and for a moment of a second, something soft flashed in his eyes.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, his face smoothing over.

“Both of you,” Roman added, his voice stretching even thinner as his eyes flickered over to Patton. “That--goes for both of you.”

Patton stared at Roman, eyes wide, hand pressed to his mouth.

“We’re celebrating,” Roman said, waving his hands in something that didn’t really seem all that celebratory. “I’m not going to ruin the moment.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Logan said, giving Roman a loaded look. “Again, if you’re truly uncomfortable with this--”

“I’m ready if you’re ready.” Roman took a deep breath and looked at Virgil, a smile flickering at the edge of his mouth. “Are we ready?”

Virgil swallowed.

Patton and Janus were staring at him, Patton’s expression achingly soft, achingly hesitant. Janus was more guarded, but Virgil could see the hesitance there--he knew Janus so well. And Virgil had changed, and so had Janus, but if they’d managed it once upon a time, that meant they weren’t completely screwed now.

And Patton. Patton, who was practically glowing, freckles on fire and eyes bright. He liked this guy. Of course he did. He was Thomas’ heart--and once again, Patton was falling. Who would Virgil be to leave him stranded? To not catch him, to not steady him, to not pick up the pieces.

And Logan. Logan was smiling a bit, giving Virgil a reassuring look. So supportive. Logan would support Thomas all the way, and Logan would make sure things worked out, and Logan would be their anchor in the storm. Virgil trusted Logan more than he’d trusted anyone in his life.

And Remus. Grinning, bouncing, hanging off Janus’ arm.

And Roman. Smile slowly returning.

Virgil had messed up so many times, and so had they. And here was another chance to do things right. Another chance at happiness.

Sure, it might crash and burn, but that was a worry for later.

“I’m ready,” Virgil said, and found he meant it.

“We can be ready,” Patton agreed, smiling. “If we try.”

And Virgil would try, again and again and again. He’d throw himself into danger and throw Thomas into danger. He’d take every leap and chance and opportunity. He’d fight the world for them--and of course their love needed work, it was rough around the edges and thin in the middles, but it was still good. Still worth another shot.

“Party time?” Roman asked.

“Party time,” Remus agreed.

And that night, gathered around the kitchen table with old streamers and a makeshift pie, almost nobody argued. Almost nobody fought. Janus and Virgil exchanged nods, Janus and Roman kept their distance, and Logan and Patton cooked together, bumping shoulders and smiling.

Not perfect. Not real. Not everything Virgil could dream of. Not yet.

The world was wide open, though, and one day this could be more than his fantasies.

It was a new beginning, and Virgil, for once, wasn’t afraid.

Taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

#sanders sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #averywrites #ts spoilers

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writing-frenzy · 4 years

Text

Plz let Airplane be EVEN MORE Awesome - Fic Rec Part Duo

*Stares at all the notes my last post got* Nice to know we are all just as Thirsty for the good boi as Mobei-Jun is.

So Thus, I have decided to make another! (Smashes the post button) Since there was a lot, I just decided to make another post.

here we go kids, more of that good Airplane love... alongside that good quality Moshang because I am biased~

(Plz share if you find more!)

a cup of vinegar, a spoon of sugar by Shamelesscooper - “Your timing certainly is impeccable, my lord,” Wei Wuxian groans, rubbing his back. “What brings you here for the second time in as many nights…?” “I left my cloak,” Mobei-Jun says, shooting Wei-Wuxian a dirty look as the bird demon shrugs his robe back on.“You certainly did!” Shang Qinghua exclaims, crossing his arms quite crossly. “You can’t just leave your things everywhere, my king!” Mobei-Jun’s hard stare refocuses on Shang Qinghua, and he can’t help but shrink back, hurriedly rummaging around in his qiankun pouch for the offending garment. As soon as Shang Qinghua finds it, Mobei-Jun takes it from his hands and throws it over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh as if it relieved him to have it there again. If you miss it so much, why did you even leave it behind?! Shang Qinghua almost wants to say, but he is quite fond of his head, actually, and would rather Mobei-Jun not take it off his shoulders, thankyouverymuch.

--Shang Qinghua is tasked with escorting the leader of the Yiling Carrion Tribe to Gusu, and it'd be fine if only Mobei-Jun would stop poking his (gorgeous, beautiful, drop-dead handsome) head in!

*Evil grin* here we have a delicious rare side of Jealous Mobei, Shang Qinghua doing something that most MDZS fans dream of doing once, and a side of shamelessness from our favorite ‘Lovebirds’ XD Not to mention how steamy it gets~

You Will Never Step Lightly In The Dark by Janusoverlord - Shang Qinghua wakes up in the aftermath of Tianlang-Jun's rampage on Cang Qiong Mountain and has to navigate the delicate political situation he now finds himself in. Luo Binghe is building a harem with Shen Qingqiu as his first, and honestly most terrifying, husband. Yet, Luo Binghe seems to be turning his eyes to Shang Qinghua as a possibility as well. Excuse you? What is this? He didn't sign up for this!

Okay, make sure you read the tags kiddies because uhhh, this has some themes to it. It is also part of a series as well, but I read it stand alone and it does good with how it explains things; as it is...

Let me just say, Luo Binghe does not know what he just got into; all mortals will bow to the might of our lord Airplane! I really did like this and I am tentatively on the fence about reading the rest of the series, because the writing is so damn good but we will see how my ship cravings twist.

With Ink and Sword by xnemone - Shang Qinghua is appropriately nervous when he passes the Imperial Exams only to be assigned not to the Emperor’s palace, but to the barren lands ruled by a lord known to be as ruthless as he is cold. Although his friend and confidant Shen Qingqiu gives him a sympathetic smile and a mountain of furs before he sets off, Shang Qinghua feels less than reassured.He expects ridicule, a harsh regime, even rejection. What he does not expect is for Mobei-Jun to take one look at him among all the scholars and servants of his palace, and proclaim him his.

Now, this is such a good story, I love it, is makes me feel happy and squishy inside with the good Moshang, and you know what? It has my new favorite thing in the world!

Shang Qinghua calls Cucumber bro out! AND IT IS GLORIOUS!!! (Seriously, why does this not happen more often?)

Good Vibrations by Feynite - In Shang Qinghua’s defense, this whole trope was originally something he’d only ever written in for Sha Hualing, for precisely one scene.

In which I actually feel ashamed for forgetting such a treasure. Like, Feynite is a wonderful wordsmith, invoking so many thoughts and good shit with their words and characters, and by god do I end up just loving them even more then before.

This story passes the Vibe Check! (Luo Binghe also gets a Vibe Check~)

From Your Perspective by cozycitywitch - It was nothing more than a curse, probably, and surly the witch doctor could fix it? So what else was Shang Qinghua to do inside Mobei Jun's body until the end of the night? He couldn't be blamed for his curiosity! He was only a man! Or the one where Moshang switch bodies and Shang Qinghua can't help himself.

Now, this is a lovely, spicy lime where while there is no big action or technical awesomeness going on, it does have some wonderful images; Shang Qinghua’s hamster body with the aura of a king, him showing off being intimating which means Shang Qinghua can indeed be scary, it is something that could happen if he has the motivation for it.

Not to mention this is just a hot story all around~ (My kingdom’s for My King’s POV on this~)

ham hunt by jets_adjacent - There's a wolf at Shang Qinghua's heels and his only thought is: Northern mating rituals are a pain in the ass.

This is a really, really good A/B/O fic; it also shows just how tricky and sneaky our Shang Qinghua can be, as well as a mischievous side I just love seeing in our favorite Peak Lord. And let’s not forget the spicy goodness of this fic, which is really tasty~ (And can I get a shout out for consent and negotiated kinks!)

In which healthy relationship skills are forcibly brought into Proud Immortal Demon Way by two bros by Rafaela271412421 - Look, if no one is going to give these people friends and healthy relationships then by GOD, I WILL do it myself! It's about two bros bringing healthy relationships into PIDW both intentionally and not. Gods and deities, accidental and not, will also be included. Also, it's in bullet point format, so you’ve been warned.

ahahahahaahhahahahaahaha! I love this fucking outline/bullet points presentation, it is something I always end up going back to and giggling like an idiot. The is really a healing piece, my crops have been watered, my face is clear, and Airplane and Cucumber Bros go completely feral~ I love it, I want to propose marriage~

trinkets for a king by jets_adjacent - Shang Qinghua gives many extraordinary gifts to his King. His King finally catches on. --aka: Mobei Jun has never been courted by a human before.

So, this is a wonderful subversion of the ‘Mobei-Jun courts/plans his wedding to Shang Qinghua all the while said man is unaware’. like, it is so cute and I love jelly Airplane; it gives me life. Also, one of the few we see Airplane taking full advantage of all his author knowledge and using it for the devious plans~

The Southern King and The North Star by Luuplup - A series of meetings between the Southern King and a cultivator. The happy moments, the romantic moments, the sad moments.

Another really cute Role Reversal I find I greatly enjoy, with a very competent, beloved Lord Demon!Airplane :D it makes me happy when I read it, I end up wanting to hug something~ It seems like it will be a slow burn, what with our favorite moronsexuals, but oh is it delicious seeing the buildup~

under a wicked star by tagteamme - Caught unaware, Mobei Jun is kidnapped for leverage. On the eighth day, Mobei Jun is broken out of his trance by the sound of something being tossed into his pit. It’s a lot lighter than what they throw food down in. He realizes that today, he is not tied down.When he moves off the bed, he does not need the canopy post to support his weight as he stands up. The object on the floor glints in the firelight, and Mobei Jun crouches to pick it up. His face is immoving; slowly, he turns the An Ding peak lord crown in his hand, looking at the blood-soaked metal through the light.

SQH to the rescue! Alongside some good old fashioned angsty Moshang miscommunication but with Mobei-Jun’s POV this time, and some absolutely good steamy good times for all XD

we seal our fate by ketolic (corrose) - All things considered, it really was sort of obvious. Hey! Anyone can be a genius in retrospect. Hindsight is 20/20! Besides, who can blame him! He'd never written about this facet of Mobei Jun's life before! Still...considering all the times he'd gotten his hands on Mobei Jun's sealskin, he's sort of shocked that it took him so long to figure it out.

:D This story makes me giggle uncontrollably, and still finds ways to unexpectedly stab me in the heart. I love it! Not to mention we get to see SQH be awesome! Sure, he flails around as he does it, but busts out the fighting moves and even fits a rescue in there! So good, so in character, I love every watery moment of this fic... good thing I’m so thirsty- (Is shot)

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But yeah! These are some more good stories I found, some a bit more- urrrr- thirstier then others~ you can find the first thing of Fic Recs Here! And Plz, share more awesome Airplane whenever you have a chance~

#SVSSS #Scum Villain Self Saving System #Scum Villain Self-Saving System #Shang Qinghua #Moshang #Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky

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