#he said the filters were boring and pretended to end the live because of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

#tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tomholland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #harry holland

472 notes · View notes

imperfectcourt · 3 years

Note

21 andriel

21. A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company

It was neither an award ceremony nor a charity function. It was also both. Andrew didn't know or care. All he knew was that his team had arrived annoying early and the canapés weren't out yet. His captain had somehow acquired him a crystal glass of expensive scotch despite the only refreshments going around being champagne, sparkling water, and some alcohol free cranberry cocktail. She was a real one. She reminded Andrew of a bizarre mix of Dan and Nicky. A monstrosity but surprisingly tolerable.

The cavernous ballroom slowly filled with people as more teams and staff and celebrities and press filtered in. Andrew wasn't exactly looking for Neil, but he knew exactly when he arrived. He hadn't even been facing the right direction, just knew when he turned around he'd be there. And he was, standing with false confidence in a tight blue suit, surrounded by tall, tall, taller players who didn't pay him any particular mind.

Their eyes met across the crowded room and Andrew wanted to gag at the cliche. He sipped from his glass instead. Neil didn't come over right away. This was his first big event like this, a period at the end of his first professional season. At some point tonight, his trade would be announced, but until then he had to play nice. Well, save face. Well, not make a scene. Well, not cause a riot. There would be time. They would have time.

Until then, the waiters had started milling around with expensive, bite sized foods. Andrew's specialty. He took out his phone and sent Neil a quick text.

Do not eat any shrimp

He put his phone away and watched Neil check his messages. Neil shot him an unamused look and, very subtly, stuck his tongue out at him. An actual child.

Being in the same room as Neil was almost harder than living in different states. His coach gave him a knowing look. It had been his initiative to sign Neil after seeing the lengths Andrew went through to spend scraps of time with him. Andrew wouldn't say he owed his coach for something he didn't ask for but he might have put in a modicum of effort for a few important games.

The event went on. People spoke on stage. Kevin did something or whatever. It was mind numbingly boring. The post season trade announcements went through and everyone pretended to be surprised and happy. His coach went up and stood next to Neil and his stupid tight royal blue suit and just about every camera in the place flashed and then they were walking back towards their group of tables. Andrew realized that the only seat available at his table was his coach's seat to his right and like hell if coach would give it up because he was a tool. He looked to the person to his left, it was a backliner, easy going, a push over.

So Andrew pushed him over.

Derek let out a little oof as he landed on the ground.

"What the fuck, dude?"

"This seat taken?"

And there he was, standing over Andrew's shoulder with the tiniest little smirk on his face. He looked rested, finally, after weeks of bleary eyed Skype chats during the push through playoffs and finals.

"No," Andrew said. Derek looked grumpy for a brief moment before going off to find a seat at a different table. Neik slid into it as his- their coach took his own.

"Keep it in your pants, Minyard," coach said lowly. Andrew didn't bother responding. He couldn't be bothered by anything that wasn't Neil, here with him, here to stay, on his team, in that freaking tight blue suit.

The awards or whatever went on around them. Neil cared about them about as much as Andrew did, looking to him instead of the stage, head resting on his hand and propped on his elbow.

Staring, Andrew mouthed. Neil stuck out the tiniest tip of his tongue. Andrew wanted to bite it. Instead he kicked out his foot to hook it under Neil's ankle. It wasn't enough. He ran the top of his patent leather shoe along the underside of his calf. It still wasn't enough. The season had only ended a week ago and neither had had time to recover from the exhaustion until now.

Now, seeing each other for the first time in weeks, seeing Neil bright eyed and done up like some hot shot looking like the smuggest motherfucker in a room filled with the cockiest assholes on the planet and it wasn't enough.

"Are you gonna eye fuck me all night or get up there?" Neil murmured in smooth Russian. The sensation of the words hit first, then their meaning. Somehow, he tore his eyes away from Neil to look up towards the stage where his name was projected in big white letters under the title of some award he didn't care enough about to recognize. The applause that had become white noise suddenly became unbearably loud to his ears.

"Go," Neil said. He was smiling so Andrew went. He took his time going up to and onto the stage, uncaring of the audience. The audience. He stared at the award in the presenter's hands for a long moment, hot under the spotlights. He thought of Neil sitting with his team and of not making waves and of the effort he had put in when it counted. He thought of Kevin not getting this award. He took it.

"Speech!" A voice- Matt fucking Boyd- yelled from the crowd, earning an uncomfortable chuckle. Andrew went up to the microphone, making a show of angling it down, of inspecting the award. He lifted it up to his forehead for a salute and walked off the stage. People laughed like he'd made a joke when really he just didn't care enough to pander to them. He barely cared enough to get the award in the first place, and even then he hadn't gotten it for himself.

Neil was badly holding back a smile as Andrew approached. It pulled two deep dimples into his cheeks. Andrew fell into his chair and slammed the award down in front of Neil.

"Yes or no?"

"Now?" Neil asked in surprise, eyebrows high and smiles released as he glanced around at the crowd.

"Yes."

They both leaned in at the same time, shoulder to shoulder and heads tilted toward each other like they were about to share a secret. Andrew pressed a hard, closed kiss to his lips to the applause of some other award winner. Neil's breath was hot on his cheek and his hand gripped Andrew's knee and it wasn't enough.

But they had time.

#aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #my writing #hc that neil is obsessed with all things seafood but is allergic to shrimp #and andrew is his only form of self control around those little fuckers #now with 4 fewer spelling errors lmao

191 notes · View notes

onlyfreds · 2 years

Text

Magazines | Love You Like a Love Song Collection

Title: Magazines

Number: Two

Summary: People know what they see on the cover of magazines, but they don't know the real person behind it.

Magazines

When you’re on the cover of a magazine, many would see you as a “pretty face” or the “girl next door”.

What they don’t know is that you’re so much more than that.

What people see on the covers of magazines, is only a fraction, if not someone else entirely, of who you really are.

You were at another party. Another party you had to attend for the sake of the publicity, the sake of possible sponsorships, the sake of promoting the new collection whose designer picked you to model.

You sighed, standing by the corner - a little too tired to mingle with anyone, cradling a glass of red wine in your hand.

“I didn’t fancy you as one to sulk.” A familiar voice reached your ears, causing you to turn around.

Your best friend, Fred, was standing there donning a formal attire and a small smile.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, your mood immediately being lifted up.

The invitation originally stated that you could bring along a plus one, to which Fred immediately came to mind, but you immediately dismissed the idea because you thought that Fred would just think that it's silly.

Fred shrugged, “Well, you do leave the invitation lying around a lot, and I saw that you could bring along a plus one. Hurt my feelings a bit when you didn’t offer it to me.”

You laughed, “I didn’t think that you would be interested. When did you get here?”

“Start of the program. You looked quite stunning and breathtaking up there.”

A blush rose up to your cheeks and Fred had one that mirrored yours as he started to trip on his words, “I mean, it’s not like you’re not always beautiful. You always look gorgeous whatever you wear.”

You giggled, “You literally just used four different words to say that I’m beautiful.”

“Why not?” Fred said, getting a drink himself, “You are beautiful. That’s why you’re here in the first place.”

You smacked his shoulder, laughing, “Cheeky prat aren’t you?”

He shrugged, “You love it anyway.”

You poked his tongue out at him, “In your dreams.”

The party had ended faster than you had originally expected before Fred’s arrival.

The two of you walked home in an attempt to sober up a bit.

But, it had started to rain - so, Fred was offered to stay at your place, at least until the rain stopped.

You changed out of your gown into more comfortable clothes while Fred scrolled through Netflix on your tv, looking for something that the two of you could watch together.

You brought your laptop to the living room, continuing on making progress on the novel you were writing while Fred still went movie hunting.

Fred had finally picked out a movie, leaning back to take a peek at your computer screen, “How’s your little magnum opus going?”

You laughed, pulling your hair back into a ponytail, “I don’t know about a magnum opus but it is going smoothly.”

He played the movie, convincing you to close the laptop since you had all the time to write tomorrow on your day off.

“This better be good Freddie.” You teased, stifling a yawn, “You’re taking my precious writing time for a movie.”

Your best friend laughed, “Okay then. If you ever find the movie boring then feel free to take back your precious writing time.”

You poked your tongue out at him, “Fine. No need to guilt me, idiot.”

“So, was your-” Fred was about to gloat until he saw you sleeping peacefully on his shoulder.

He gently lifted you up and carried you to your bed, tucking you under the covers and pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

Fred knew everything there was to know about you. And he knew that your job required you to filter through your own personality for the sake of your public image. He knew that you didn’t like having to pretend to be someone else - but, it wasn’t like you had a choice.

He chuckled, taking in your sleeping form, “It must be exhausting to pretend to be someone else.”

Fred was about to leave when you suddenly whispered, “Stay please.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asked, “I don’t want to disturb you.”

“Stay.” You pouted, making grabby hands towards him.

“Fine.” Fred agreed, heart melting at how adorable you were before lifting up the covers and climbing in next to you, causing you to immediately wrap your arms around his torso to prevent him from escaping (if he ever attempted to).

For 6 days of the week, a blaring alarm clock would jolt you awake.

But, today, the sun gently shook you out of your slumber.

You stretched, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and chocolate.

That’s when you noticed the arm that was wrapped tightly around your waist.

The arm that was caging you in belonged to, none other than, Fred Weasley.

He was still practically fast asleep, a piece of his ginger hair falling in front of his face and freckles dotted his skin like constellations.

Raising your hand up, you gently pushed the hair away from his face, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Y’know it’s rude to stare.” He suddenly muttered, opening one eye to peek at you.

You immediately retracted your hand, “I wasn’t staring.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, sitting up, “Because you were looking at me the whole time, doesn’t that count as staring?”

A blush rose up to your cheeks, “No?”

Raising a brow at you, he asked, “Really?”

“Really. And no matter what you say, I wasn’t staring.”

You then climbed off the bed, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will go make some breakfast. And I was supposed to make you some as well until you pulled that little stunt.”

Running out of the bedroom, Fred started chasing you, “Hey! I was just joking! C’mon, you knew that!”

Fred had successfully been able to convince you to make breakfast for him. And once the both of you had finally eaten it up - you were now thinking of what to do next.

“You want to go hang out at a coffee shop?” Fred suggested, “Because, honestly, I really want some coffee right now.”

You nodded, “Why not? I could bring my laptop and get some writing done as well.”

Once that was settled, the two of you hopped into your car and drove on to a coffee shop.

You passed by a coffee shop, but you drove right past it.

“Hey,” Fred said from the passenger seat, “you drove right past one.”

“I know.” You said, making a U-turn at the corner, “But, I know this place where we can get a private room. I don’t want to brag, but with my line of work, it's hard to go out in public unnoticed.”

He gave you a small smile, “It must be exhausting to always pretend to be someone you’re not.”

You shrugged, “It is. But, it does get me paid - so what’s the harm in it?”

Fred wanted to tell her what’s the harm in it, that you're compromising yourself and not being able to showcase your full potential. But, he opted to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

Soon enough, you parked the car before putting on some sunglasses then heading into the coffee shop with Fred.

After asking Fred what he wanted to order, you subtly headed to the corner of the counter where your friend was manning. You then whispered your order to her and said, “My friend and I will be in room 2.”

You and Fred then walked to Room 2, thankfully, no one was able to recognize you.

When the door had closed behind the two of you, taking off your shades you plopped down on the couch, “Finally.”

“Huh.” Fred said, sitting down next to you, “You have to go through all that - and just to get into a coffee shop?”

You pulled out your laptop and pressed the power button, “You don’t know half of it.”

Your best friend watched as you typed away on your laptop. The words of your masterpiece coming alive on the page.

“Under the surface you’re someone else than what you see on the cover of Vogue or Elle.” He said, causing you to look at him.

You sighed, “Well, the magazines don’t always tell the truth.”

A small knock was then heard on the door, Fred stood up and opened it, taking the drinks from your friend.

“Thanks.” You said as Fred handed you your drink.

You took a sip, “Under the covers I’m so much more than just a ‘pretty face’ or the ‘girl next door’.”

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Like you said, the magazines don’t tell the truth.”

“Are you sure that it's fine?” Ginny asked, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Of course. I mean, you’re my friends. So, why not?” You said.

The Burrow was in need of getting fixed due to some plumbing issues but since the repairs would, at least, take a day - the Weasleys originally planned to spend Christmas at Aunt Muriel’s when you overheard and offered your summer house in LA.

Hermione seemed at a loss for words, “But… really?”

You nodded, “C’mon guys, I’m serious! I’ve literally haven’t been at that house for months and I rarely stay there since it’s so big and lonely. But, if you guys were there, it would be a whole lot better.”

“You don’t have to, dear.” Molly cooed, “We’ll be fine.”

You placed a hand on her forearm, “Molly, I insist. You’ve generously opened your house to me for years. I think that it's time that I return the favor.”

She gave you a smile, “Thank you, dear.”

The next week, you were already helping the Weasleys to “move in” to your house in LA.

“Fred! George!” Molly called out once she saw you lugging one of the bags into the house, “Come here this instance and help the poor girl.”

You shook your head, waving her off, “I’m fine Molly. Don’t worry about me.”

“Fred! George!”

The twins then appeared by your side, taking the luggage from your hands.

“Don’t worry, Y/N.” Fred said.

“We got this.” George finished.

You walked after them, “Come on guys! I’ve worn heels that made me taller than the two of you.”

“We need to see those heels later.”

“How could you even walk in those?” Hermione asked as you walked down the stairs to the living room wearing the heels that you claimed made you taller than the twins.

“Goodness.” Ginny muttered, “I can’t even stand in stilettos, let alone those.”

You laughed, “Believe me, you have no idea how many blisters I got just from breaking into these shoes.”

“Beauty is really pain.” Angelina said.

George looked at her and shot her a wink, “Well, you seem to make it effortless.”

“Hey!” You joked, “The pain is worth it as long as I get paid.”

“Time for the moment of truth, shall we Georgie?” Fred stood up, rubbing his hands together.

“We shall.” George answered, also standing up.

The two of them stood at either side of you and it just proved that you were, indeed, taller than them in those heels.

“Impossible.” The both of them whispered in amazement.

“Can I get out of these shoes now?” You asked, “As much as I would love to soak in the victory of being taller than the both of you - I think I would like to do it on flat ground.”

This caused the group to laugh.

Fred offered a hand to you to help you out of the heels, “Careful.”

As soon as he said that, you lost your balance and felt right into his arms.

The two of you looked at each other for a moment, a faint blush appearing on both your cheeks.

“Falling for me already?” Fred teased, a cheeky grin on his face.

You stood up, sticking your tongue out at him, “In your dreams.”

You had just received another invitation - this time for a gala and you knew exactly what to do.

You quietly slipped away from the living room while your friends were singing karaoke and headed to the kitchen.

And you saw the person you were looking for right there.

“Hey Freddie.” You said, giving him a smile.

“Hey princess.” He returned the smile, putting down the glass he was drinking from, “What’s up?”

You shrugged, nonchalantly throwing the envelope on to the island counter, “I got an invitation to a gala.”

“And?”

“And the invitation said that I needed to bring a plus one.”

“So?”

You flashed a sheepish smile, “I was wondering if you would like to join me?”

He pretended to think about it for a moment, “Hm, I'll see if I can fit it into my schedule.”

You rolled your eyes at him, giving him a look.

“Okay Okay..” He said, “I would love to be your date to the gala.”

Fred promised that he would be picking you up.

You checked the time 7:45 pm. You had 15 more minutes before Fred came to pick you up, standing in front of the mirror - you took a pair of earrings that would match your gown from your jewelry box.

Once you finished, you heard a knock on the door - to your absolute surprise. Peaking through the curtains of your window, you saw Fred’s car already parked in the driveway.

Hurrying down the stairs, you slipped on your heels before opening the door - revealing a Fred Weasley that donned a suit and tie, complete with black leather shoes.

“You’re early.” You noted, closing the door behind you,

Fred shrugged, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, “Yeah, I was too excited.”

“Let’s go then.” You said, running over your mental checklist just to make sure that you haven’t forgotten anything important.

He offered his arm to you, “Shall we?”

You giggled, gladly taking it, “We shall.”

–

After Fred handed his car to the valet attendant then the two of you entered the venue.

The lights that sparkled from the ceiling envied the stars in the night sky. The venue was littered with guests donning different expensive gowns - each trying to out best each other.

Fred suddenly leaned down and whispered into your ear, “Out of everyone here - you’re the most beautiful one here.”

You couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks, “Shut up.”

“What.” Fred said, “It’s true.”

“I mean, you’re not just beautiful on the outside but on the inside as well.” He quietly muttered, hoping that you won’t hear.

But, you did hear it, “What?”

His cheeks turned almost as red as his hair, as he tried to explain himself, “I mean, aside from your physical appearance, you’re also very nice and sweet and pretty smart too. Anyone can write a book, but it takes talent to write a story. I’m sure a lot of people fall in love with you everyday - and I guess that I’m one of those people, the only difference is that I’ve loved you for years and I just fall in love with you even more with every passing day.”

“Really?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah.” He said.

The two of looked at each other, everyone else fading in the background. The two of you slowly leaned forward, lips meeting in the middle.

Long story short, it was the best gala you ever attended.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @ssathoma @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @daedreamss @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @thefallengodesse @cupids-crystals @madelineorionswan @holyheadharpies99 @posteyymaloney @an2402lths(Send a Message/Ask if you want to be added!)

#fredweasley #fredweasleyfanfic #fredweasleyimagines #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fredweasleyoneshots #fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley one shot #fred weasly x reader #fredweasleyfic #fredweasleyxreader

56 notes · View notes

gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You

Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: After several moments having gone by of the two of you skirting around your feelings, the right time finally arises.

Word Count: 5.9k oops

Warnings: mild angst, smoking, mutual pining, fluff, kissing

It had been no secret that Sirius Black had a penchant for walking on the wild side, for being braver than most in nearly everything he’s done and will do. There were times where he had been perhaps too adventurous for his own good, but that would never stop him from continuing on with his habits. There was never a dull moment so long as he was around for it, but, over the years he’s come to realize those moments aren’t complete unless one person in particular is there to share them with. You.

October 19, 1977

You stood at the base of the carpeted stairs with your arms crossed over your chest, lips parted as you tried your hardest to mull over the words just spoken to you. The offer just given to you that required an answer of approval; anything other than yes simply wouldn’t be accepted. That would be downright ridiculous.

“On a what?” You ask once you’d thought about it for a few seconds, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly and immediately hushed for your nearly too loud tone of surprise.

Sirius stood before you with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tucked his hair behind his ear, a chunk falling back in his face. His smile was far more than telling that he was up to no good at all, but you were beginning to realize that he hardly ever was. He lifted his hand and swirled the lone set of glimmering metallic keys around his finger, his smile only widening at the thought running through his mind.

“A drive,” he said, speaking as if it were completely and utterly normal to be taking his best friends’ fathers car without permission. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

A laugh fell past his lips upon seeing your mouth open and close a few times in confusion, in contemplation, head tilted and brows furrowed as you looked up at him curiously. “You are planning on taking Mr. Potter’s beloved car?”

He nods, “yes, Y/n/n, that’s the one.”

“And you’re planning on dragging me along to get in the inevitable trouble you’ll be getting into once he sees it’s missing?”

“That’s the idea, yes,” he smiles.

You squint up at him and meet his gray gaze, his own stare holding something akin to mischief as he was rapidly growing more antsy and impatient by the second with your hesitancy. You turn and look over your shoulder, peering into the living room just mere paces away from where the two of you had stood in the Potter household. Mr. Potter had been reclined in his favorite chair as a miscellaneous television show had been playing, fast asleep with that morning’s paper in his lap and his glasses halfway down his nose. The setting sun had been spilling through the open blinds, casting stripes of orange on the walls as a lamp on an end table illuminated the room.

Mrs. Potter had taken her knitting elsewhere to avoid her husband’s very obvious snoring, presumably tucked away comfortably in their bedroom and would likely remain there except to wake her husband should he not be in bed by ten o’clock. James hadn’t come home yet, having been out in the town with Lily. Time never seemed to exist when he was with her, always finding himself returning home far past curfew to be teased by Sirius for being too lovestruck for his own good. Though, it was something James had readily fired back because he too was just as in love even though he’d denied it.

So, needless to say, Sirius was bored and itching to get out of the house.

You turned back to him with pursed lips, his brow raised in anticipation as he rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time you’ve done this?” You ask, voice just above a whisper.

“Oh, come on.” His eye roll is immediate as he grabs your hand, tugging you out of the door with a smile on his lips. You tried not to let your cheeks burn at the feel of his hand in yours, the hand that had yet to let go as he looked back and smiled at you. “And no, it’s not the first time.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now as he let go of your hand in favor of opening your door with a dramatic wave of his hand to gesture towards your seat, nearly walking into the hood of the pristine car from being far too busy sending you a smile. He makes up for it as he hops over the door and into the driver’s seat with ease, flashing you a smile as he puts the keys in the ignition.

He pauses for a few seconds seemingly not of his own accord, momentarily taken by the way the setting sun glimmers on your skin and sparkles in your eyes. By the way you’re smiling at him even when he’s being a complete idiot who trips over his own two feet because he’s too busy doing exactly what he is doing in the current moment. Staring.

He often wonders how he manages to stay so collected around you, exchanging his fond feelings for charm and witty comebacks to your even wittier quips. But clearly, so clearly his attempts to appear so collected were rapidly crumbling around him with each passing second he spends staring at you. Though even so, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to cut it out.

“Well, are we going to drive or wait for Mr. Potter to catch us?” You tease, pinching his chin gently in your hand to further your taunting. “If you take a picture it just might last longer.”

He rolls his eyes and puts the car in gear, setting off down the road. You pretend your stomach isn’t a mess of butterflies at the way he’d been gazing, you try to keep your mind from playing into the flurry of possibilities of what it might mean. But absolutely nothing could stop the way your cheeks burned as a result, but the wind in your hair was easy to focus on, the wind pressing on your palms as you stuck your hands above you.

Sirius let out a holler as he sped off down the countryside, the breeze sifting through his hair as your brief moment of shared smiles only added to the exhilaration you felt having taken the car without permission. As he turned the radio up to an ever familiar classic rock song.

Yeah, it was totally worth it.

March 7, 1978

The common room was filled with giddy gryffindors and colored team flags that night, half of them still cheery over the outstanding victory of the quidditch team earlier that evening. Still dressed in their jerseys, their faces still painted red and yellow. The other half were having just as much fun as an endless amount of laughter filters through the room and bounces off its stone walls.

James, of course, had been amongst the happiest—it was his team that had won after all. And Lily had fallen close behind him, her fond gaze set on her lover as much as she would beg to differ. Remus was just happy to be there in the moment with his best friends, his smile near constant much like everyone else in the room.

Everything was a haze of gryffindor colors; red pillows scattered on the floor from those who’d stood on the couches, ruffled tapestries along the walls. The latest hits from Queen and ABBA had been playing on repeat as everyone in the room had been having the night of their lives in the name of victory, good natured fun filling boisterously in the cozy space. It was a good night really, but everyone you’d hoped to be there wasn’t in attendance, the one person you found yourself wanting to see most wasn’t there.

Sirius.

He’d disappeared shortly after the match, one he’d sat through with merely half as much enthusiasm as he’d usually had in support of one of his best friends. Of course he’d made it a priority to congratulate him on his winning, he always had and he always will, but you were quick to realize even amongst the bustling crowd of cheerful teens that he hadn’t made it back to the common room with the rest of the group.

It was entirely too easy to tell when he wasn’t around, it always was. Things had lacked a certain light, a certain energy only his charisma could bring forth in anywhere he’d gone. It wasn’t far off to say that he’d been important to your tight knit group of friends; he was chaotic, he was rebellious, he was Sirius.

You had barely gone ten minutes in that party before you found yourself slipping from the common room in search of your best friend. You knew just where to find him as you navigated the dimly moonlit corridors with purpose in your stride, the music still ringing in your ears despite your otherwise quiet surroundings. He was rather predictable to the select few who knew him almost better than he knew himself, but you still held hope in your heart that he’d be just where you’d felt he’d run off to as you climbed the spiral staircase.

You were right.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your mouth when your gaze fell upon the raven haired boy, his dimpled chin in his palm as he sat alone. His gaze was set on the stars above, glimmering bright and high in the sky in the perfect view given from the astronomy tower. You sighed softly at the sight of him before you, shoulders slumping a bit as you approach him.

“The party is downstairs, you know,” you spoke lightheartedly, moving to sit down with him and nudging him with your elbow when you did so. “It happens to be one of our last here.”

“I’m not really in the partying mood, Y/n/n,” he grumbles with a soft huff, his gaze focused ahead of him and his jaw clenching. Though he finds himself nudging you knee with his moments later in hopes that it’d soften the accidental harshness of his tone. He hadn’t meant to sound so irritated, especially not with you.

You sigh softly, your eyes dropping to where he’d been continuously picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans before lifting to him once more. You were certain you knew just what was plaguing his mind for the entirety of the day, at least that long and possibly more. It wasn’t uncommon for him to linger on the past and rightfully so, but you decided against speaking further on the subject as a smile pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“Are you ever?” You jest, making light of the brooding expression on his face.

He finally looks at you then, his eyes narrowed in a gray stare at your words as he tries his very hardest to stifle his smile. “Have you come to bother me, Y/n?”

You shoved at his shoulder lightly as your mouth fell agape in only half surprise at his words, laughter leaving your lips nonetheless as you squinted up at him. “Sirius Orion Black, I wholeheartedly believe it is my job to bother you.”

He rolls his eyes then, a scoff sounding and soon to be followed by the laugh leaving his lips as he shook his head. “Well I’m wholeheartedly convinced that you’re doing a wonderful job.”

His quip is as lighthearted as your own as you share a look of scrunched noses and faux frowns, ones that fade into soft smiles as you bring yourself to look away before your cheeks burn redder than the crimson shirt you’d been wearing. Unbeknownst to you, and something that he doesn’t plan to shed any light on, he was grateful for the lack of proper lighting otherwise you just might see the matching shade of red on his face. Something only ever achievable by you even if you hadn’t known it.

Your mingled laughter had quieted as you sat with him, and you couldn’t help but to steal another glance in his direction. His lingering smile was evident even as strands of black hair splayed across his cheek from where they’d once been tucked behind his ear. One that just minutes before was far from making its appearance when he’d sat there by himself and drowned in the gravity of his past leading up to this point.

His closest friends had never failed to bring out the absolute best in him, something he found himself immensely grateful to have. To be able to be loyal to people he knows will always want what is best for him. But as he sits there, no longer alone as he had been in that tower for a short while, he’s with the one person he had hoped would come looking for him. The one person always stuck on his mind and he knows you always will be.

You found it in yourself to look away from your best friend just a little too late as you bit the inside of your cheek, having known he’d caught your stare but too prideful to check and make sure he really had. Instead, you drop your head to rest on his shoulder and grab his hand with a squeeze, the softest of reminders that you were there. It was an action that made his heart flutter and race all the same.

“Eager to hold my hand, Y/n?” He teases, his charm making its reappearance.

You lift your head and release his hand with a poorly attempted glare, holding his gaze only briefly before you fell back into your previous position. “You really do make it terribly hard to tolerate, do you know that, Sirius?”

His smile widens as your words, his laughter sounding once more.

“Well, I wholeheartedly believe it is my job to do so,” he states, repeating your earlier choice of words as he rests his head atop yours.

“And I’m wholeheartedly convinced you’re doing a wonderful job.”

He nudges your foot with his converse in response, cheek still pressed to the top of your head as he laughs when you do the same. You really were something else entirely and he knew that, you were witty and fierce and entirely too extraordinary for him to begin to fathom. He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks things over, as he enjoys your company and the way you chose to leave the fun of the party in favor of finding him. Yeah, he still can never believe it. He’s quiet for a few more moments as he mulls over his next words.

“I didn’t say you had to let go of my hand,” he mumbles, tossing it out as a suggestion he hopes you understood the point of.

He didn’t have to wonder too long as your hand soon slips in his once more, thumbs crossing over and fingertips curling over the backs of your clasped hands. A softer smile is shared but unseen, and he’s quickly reminded that a moment like this is much better than being by himself, than being at a celebratory party.

June 19, 1979

The lake. It was a meeting spot to rival all others the very moment your group of friends had first laid eyes on it. The discovery was entirely accidental, something stumbled upon in an attempt to find the absolute perfect spot to camp. In fact, it was so perfect that James had tied one of his old shirts around a tree branch for future visits, to unofficially claim it as your own. It was absolutely incredible and seemingly unknown to most anyone else which you found next to impossible—it was too amazing not to be. But, whenever the trip was made, which was more often than not, no one else had ever been there to spoil the fun.

Clusters of wildflowers and dozens upon dozens of trees lined the perimeter of the open water, each one a different height than the last but all extraordinarily beautiful in their own way. Those very trees were also perfect for tucking yourself against with your favorite book at the moment, the right amount of shade to combat the summer sun so long as you’ve got a blanket to sit on.

“Do you think they’ll ever get tired of throwing each other in the water?” Lily asks, a smile on her lips as she shakes her head.

You follow her gaze to the sight ahead of you, Sirius over James’ shoulder having had his fate set in stone as he’s thrown into the lake with an unceremonious landing. You watched as he rose to the surface, mouth agape in shock at the completely expected action as he’s quick to cast an aguamenti spell in his best friend’s direction. It wasn’t until his gaze fell upon you that you found it the right time to look away, his smile too distracting for your own good as your cheeks burned at the brief moment. One that most certainly did not go unnoticed by a very intelligent Lily Evans.

You were fairly positive that there wasn’t a single thing that could get past her, especially not the very obliviously in love friends she’s got. It wasn’t exactly hard to tell either, she’s sure that a complete stranger could even see it if they’d spent merely five minutes in the same room with the top of you. Your rosy cheeks and unbreakable smile were telling enough of that very fact, a reaction most always elicited by the dark haired goofball not far away.

“No, I don’t think they will,” you finally manage once you realize you hadn’t answered her yet. Your gaze darts to her once more and her eyes are already cast on you, her brow raised and the corner of her mouth quirked up. “What?”

She rolls her eyes, a laugh falling from her lips as she shakes her head once more. “You really are terrible at hiding your feelings, you know.”

Your mouth falls open slightly as your brows furrow, a scoff sounding as if she’d been entirely absurd. “Feelings? Don’t be ridiculous, Lily.”

“Then I suppose you’re blushing just for the fun of it, you’re smiling over absolutely nothing?” She says, getting up from her checkered blanket and walking backwards away from you.

“And where are you going?”

“Seems like someone can’t stay away from you!” She jests rushing off towards James after tossing a wink your way, leaving you to frown and scoff once more.

It wasn’t until you pulled your gaze from her that you understood what she was getting at, the very one in question making his way undoubtedly towards you. Your eyes rolled as you bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin, your grip on your book clutching tighter as he approached you.

“You better not be looking to throw me in the lake,” you state, brow raised as you cross one ankle over the other.

“Are you going to read all day, Y/n?” He asks, snatching the sunglasses from the top of your head just to see your frown. His grin only became more teasing at the very audible huff leaving your lips at the action.

“Perhaps I just might be able to if you stop distracting me,” you quip, frowning as you watch the smile on his lips widen.

“Then I guess that’s just too bad,” he counters, fully realizing what you had just said in that moment as a smirk appears. “Wait a minute, I’m distracting?”

You shake your head and bite back your smile again as he sits the red framed sunglasses on his nose and roots around in his shoe, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter he kept tucked in there when he wasn’t wearing them much to your obvious dismay. And as if it weren’t already terribly obvious that he’d known of said feelings, his laughter before even seeing your expression was telling enough of that very fact.

“Sirius,” you start, frowning as his mischievous grey stare meets yours. “I told you not to smoke near my books. One wrong move and you’ll burn the pages.”

He’s quick to laugh as he lights it, nearly choking on the smoke as he’d done so and you laughed in response to it. “Y/n, that’s most definitely impossible and you know it. Besides, when have I ever followed the rules?”

He laid his head in your lap, his raven hair splaying across your legs and dampening the corners of your book pages and you’re absolutely convinced he’d done it on purpose. They’d warped almost in an instant and you huffed, knowing immediately that getting any form of quality reading done would be next to impossible beyond that point. Not with the smoke billowing away from you or your best friend making little effort to take your mind elsewhere.

“Those shades aren’t hiding the fact that you’re staring, you know,” you say, peering down at him over the wrinkled pages of your book.

He scoffed at your accusation, though a smile still tugged at his lips as he swiped the book from your hand and took another puff from his cigarette. “Was not,” he defends, though the way the very corners of his mouth quirk up and the softest of blushes stain his cheeks, you know you’d hit the nail on the head. He lifts the cherry red glasses and looks at you, no longer attempting to fight his smile before lowering them and letting his head fall back in your lap. “I definitely was not.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you sigh, grinning up at the sky as you toss your book to the side. “Whatever you say.”

September 30, 1979

The wedding of James and Lily was perhaps the most special event that was shared amongst your group of friends, the most celebratory. It had been a small one; you were quite sure there weren’t more people there than you could count in both your hands, just close friends and family.

The location was nothing short of perfect and familiar; the beloved clearing by that lake you all had treasured so fondly. The trees had begun to fade from rich greens to even richer reds and oranges, the wild flowers still in full bloom regardless of the cooling temperatures as fall began to become noticeable.

This was perhaps one of the few and rare occasions everyone had dressed up, and even then you’d have to say it was rather casual compared to most weddings you could think of. But Lily and James weren’t ones to follow the norm, though Sirius had most certainly been pushing the envelope. He’d showed up in a suit of James’, his grass stained converse not failing to make their appearance to top off the otherwise perfect outfit. Lily hadn’t been exactly thrilled at the best man’s choice in shoes, but she quickly focused her attention on more pressing matters. Marrying the love of her life.

It couldn’t have been more perfect than it was, having been surrounded by the people that mattered most to everyone. Not a dry eye was left, especially not from Sirius and Remus, even more so Sirius. He’d tried his hardest to deny the fact that he was absolutely most certainly emotional over the union of two of his best friends, having cleared his throat more often than nod to rid himself of the lump within it. But no matter how hard he’d tried to play tough, it was far more obvious that he wasn’t as he read his speech.

Now, as the sun had nearly completely set and the night had begun, it was then that you found yourself reunited with the one person you always seemed to think about. The one person that had joined James and Remus in being the life of the party. Not a dull moment would ever exist so long as they were in attendance.

“Might I have this dance with you, Y/n?” He asks, a goofy smile on his lips and his hand outstretched towards you.

You rolled your eyes at his rather disheveled appearance, his once pristine suit now looking worse for wear as he’d discarded his blazer somewhere that would probably take some searching to find. The top buttons of his dress shirt had been undone, the very collar ruffled and his sleeves rolled up and wrinkled. Not to mention it was half untucked ever since he’d gotten his start on karaoke; all else had become unimportant the moment Queen had come on.

Perhaps your most favorite part of his newfound look was the black tie that disappeared from around his neck in favor of being tied around his head. Either he had no clue it was there or he simply didn’t mind the fact that it was, and your bets were on a little bit of both. His hair was a bit of a mess as it fell over the fabric on his forehead, but one thing had remained constant the entirety of that day. His smile.

“A dance?” You repeat, unable to fight your own grin as you look from his hand to his gaze.

The corners of his mouth quirk up higher than they’d been in that moment as his eyes roll. “I’ve only been waiting the whole night.”

“Is that so?” You inquire, slipping your hand in his and you’re quick to be pulled closer. Your giddy squeal of surprise had sounded amongst the boastful chatter and cheer all around you. Not to mention the same ABBA song that’d been playing for what had to be the fifth time now as per James’ request. “I had no idea you were so eager to dance with me.”

He lifts your hand to twirl you, hands clasped and arms extending as he spins himself for the fun of it. He nearly tripped over his own two feet but if it meant he’d see you smile then it made the slight embarrassment all the more worth it to him.

“There happens to be a lot you don’t know about me,” he says, brow raised as he falls as seriously as he could muster which hadn’t been very much. “A lot.”

You paused in your tracks as his hands settled on your waist, a mild look of concern flashing across his face until he saw the expression he knew so well in yours. “That is entirely untrue and you know it. In fact, I know more about you than I ever cared to.”

His eyes roll once more at your teasing as he lifts you off your feet in a lighthearted retaliation, spinning you once and twice and even a third time as the breeze washes over you and your laughter mingles amongst everyone else’s. He finds himself staring again as he sets you back on your feet, busying himself with reciting the lyrics to Waterloo as long as it means you hadn’t noticed his admiration. You seem to be far too taken by the off key singing, though you couldn’t bring yourself to ever be annoyed.

His singing dwindled and his voice lowered after a short while, his arm remained hooked around your waist save for when he’d twirled you a few more times. You tried your hardest not to play into the fact that your heart had been racing for reasons other than the dance you’d been sharing. To not dwell on the fact that his hand was in yours and his absentminded hums of music had filled the space between you. Should another Led Zeppelin song come on, everyone will simply have to be subject to more singing. Or the fading scent of his cologne that wafted your way with every movement and every gust of wind.

A laugh fell past your lips in that moment, catching his attention immediately.

“What?” He asks, amused and curious. He knows the meaning behind that laugh and he knows surely you’ve got something on your mind.

“I thought you hated ABBA,” you jest, raising your brows. He tips his head back at your comment, his hair flopping backward briefly as a groan fell from his lips. “I’m starting to believe otherwise with the way you know just about every word to every one of their songs that’s come on.”

“Must you be so observant?” He huffs.

“How could I not be?”

He scrunches his nose and mocks your words, your laughter immediate as you return the gesture.

Things fell quiet between you after that for a while then, leaving you both to bask in the music that’d since been turned down, the conversations that since lessened the more the night continued on. Leaving Sirius to think for more than a few moments about just how many hours and minutes he’d waited to dance with you. Or how you rested your head on his chest and he hoped you hadn’t heard just how heavily his heart had been beating. If you had, he’d simply just blame it on the way he’d carried on that night. The adrenaline.

He knew in the coming days and weeks and months and years, ever since the day he met you, that you’d take up the forefront of his mind and he’s yet to be proved otherwise. You’ve made yourself be the calm to his chaos, the one he will always seek out even when he doesn’t realize it. He knows as he dances with you to a song he always swore he hated that he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not even when you tease him for knowing every lyric. Not even when you tell him he smokes too much and he knows it to be true. Not even when you put those bloody flowers in his hair. Not even when you push his buttons and argue with him for being so foolishly reckless at times. You were just as stubborn as him and he knows he’s met his match.

He doesn’t know quite when he’s known himself to be in love with you, it’s all kind of faded and muddled together. But in the current moment as minutes collect and time passes with the laughter of his friends and newfound family, with you, he knows he’s got what he needs.

“Sirius?” You ask softly, curiously after a while, your gaze falling upon him.

“Yes?”

He finds himself tucking your hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers tracing over your flushed cheek. He was very much aware of the heat rising in your face at the action, very aware without the need to see it in the glow of the moon. Because there’s this thing you do each and every time you’re flustered, he’s noticed, and each time you look away and smile. You smile and purse your lips and it’s become painfully obvious to him that you were always trying to fight the crimson in your cheeks.

“Have you really wanted to dance with me all night?” You finally say, your smile soft as your eyes nearly sparkled in the moonlit glow you stood under.

A soft laugh leaves his lips as he himself looked away, knowing that habit of yours he knew so very well had rubbed off on him. But he turns back to you, eyes gray and full of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Yes, Y/n. It’s always you that I want to dance with.”

You try your hardest to ignore the flutter in your heart at his words, to contain the butterflies in your stomach. The way he’d looked at you, a certain sincerity in his words and a certain something in his gaze making it near impossible to think straight. The way he looked, goofy and the embodiment of utter chaos—it had you unable to look at just anything else. Though you will admit, as of late it’s always seemed to be rather hard to look anywhere else for more than a few moments so long as Sirius had been close by.

So, as you stood there half-dancing to the melody of a song you hadn’t fully been paying attention to, you find yourself focused on him. Without second thought you lift your hand, grasping the tie around his head softly to you with the fabric between your fingers. He looked absolutely ridiculous and that was for certain, ruffles of black hair dusting his shoulders as that very tie tickled over his nose with every gust of wind. His cheeks were a bit rosy from the energy he put forth that evening you presumed, unaware that a good bit of it had been caused by you.

You tuck the charcoal colored fabric behind his ear, a laugh falling from your lips and mischief dancing in your eyes that told him surely you’d had something on your mind.

“Then I believe it is my duty to tell you that you really are the worst dancer.” There it is.

He pulls you closer, his laughter puffing against your skin as your own continues giddily. “And who’s to say I wasn’t just trying to give you a chance?”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle another bout of giggles, you refuse to give him that satisfaction. But the closeness between the two of you had proven to be far more effective in shutting you up as his nose nudged against your own. He couldn’t bring himself to refrain from resting his forehead on yours in a matter of moments, his lashes fluttering and mingling with yours. Your heart hammered in your chest yet felt calm all the same, as if this was exactly where you were meant to be. You knew it was.

“Well,” you start, voice soft as he smiles softly, more so when you accidentally step on the toes of his grass stained converse. “Then I’d say that was awfully nice of you.”

The scrunched noses and soft laughter you share only lingers for mere fleeting moments before his lips brush over yours, featherlight and hesitant. But it was then that you lean on your toes and kiss him fully, his hand squeezing yours as his smile presses against your lips as you continue to sway together. Never mind the three friends of yours watching that very moment with the largest of grins and maybe some teary eyes from James. Never mind Lily high-fiving Remus before extending their hands to James to collect their bet money. You were kissing your best friend, the raven haired wizard that never failed to get on your nerves in the best of ways. The one that could bring life into any room he’d walked into.

“Does this mean you love me too?” He asks, eyes crinkling from his grin and laughter immediate, “Because that would really be awfully embarrassing if—”

“Yes, I love you,” you laugh against his lips to shut him up, closing the space between you once more. “I love you.”

In that moment as he kissed you, as the tips of his fingers brushed across your cheek and the light of the moon washed over you, he knew. It has been you that ignites every moment into the light that it is, the one he finds he can’t ever stop thinking of.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @gxtitobxby @vogueweasley @ch0colatefr0gs @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine

307 notes · View notes

honey-coloured-passion · 3 years

Text

Surprise! (Sapnap x Reader)

Request: “Sapnap X Reader where he surprises the reader while she’s streaming”

Words: 1.5k

“Hello chat how are your days going? Good, bad? Finals!? Oh my gosh I hate finals dude I’m so sorry f to pay respects,” you paused to stretch and adjust your headset as you had just started your stream. “I’m kinda just bored today chat so what should we do? Mods can you all run a poll or something?” You glanced at your discord and saw messages from Sap.

“Hey angel!”

“Oh you’re streaming!”

“You look cute on stream”

You rolled your eyes but chat caught you blushing and saw that Sapnap was viewing the stream, and immediately lost it. They’d been shipping the two of you for months, but little did they know you guys had been dating for three months, since you met up in person for the first time. It hadn’t felt like the right time to announce to the world and you’d wanted to establish your relationship privately before telling the fans, but that didn’t mean you’d had a couple slip ups leading the fans to theorize.

This included you calling Sapnap various forms of babe, bubs, Nick, love etc. Same went for Sap who gets teased for endlessly rushing to your defense on the SMP and responding casually when you call him a pet name, almost like he does it all the time... yeah, chat was on to the two of you.

“Shut up guys and tell me what we’re doing today! We could go grind netherite tools and chill? How does that sound?” the SMP always got a resounding yes, and just like that you were off, the SMP had won the poll anyways.

You messaged Sap in discord, “wanna call for the stream?” and quickly he was on the call with you.

“Hello Mr. Sapitus Napitus, how’s your day going on this fine Friday?” you laughed as you ran through the nether, having just collected enough wool and planks to make beds. “It’s going, I was bored as heck so I wound up here, what about you?” You knew the longer end to that story, his family was out and he thought editing would take longer but now he was stuck at home. “Same same, I’m chillin and got bored after scrolling on Tiktok for like two hours so now I’m here!” You moved on, blowing up the nether hunting for netherite scrap while talking with chat.

A familiar notification went off, “water check from, um ,GogySupremacy420,000, oh my god what a username. Alright everyone drink some water! This is good I haven’t drank water since like breakfast.” you heard Sap pipe up, “you’ve eaten since breakfast right?” you rolled your eyes, “nope I’ll eat after stream don’t worry Simpnap” tacking on the nickname earned a scoff from the simp himself. “Not a simp,” he answered, giving you a punch in the game making you hit him back. After a mini fight ending in you threatening to place a bed and effectively kill the both of you, you were back to mining.

“Hey I’ve gotta go drive and grab something want me to stay on call though?” your head whipped to discord to look for another message, knowing Sap didn’t have anywhere to be tonight. But there was nothing. “Oh I don’t mind, chat and I enjoy your company!” you said with a grin. You’d made it to enchanting now, having found all the netherite you needed.

As you sat on the spider spawner you heard Sap get in the car, the familiar beep of him unlocking his car and the revving of the engine making you laugh, “you’re car is literally so old I’m surprised it starts,” you heard Sapnap scoff, “old?! don’t you dare speak to her like that, she’s beautiful,” you rolled your eyes, Callahan who must’ve been on your stream quickly piped up in the game chat “Y/n is jealousss!” now it was your turn to be offended, “you think I’d be jealous of a bucket of rusty bolts and oil? No chance,” you laughed, checking chat as they were spamming JealousChamp. “Whatever you say ba- Y/n,” Sapnap played it off with a cough and you quickly changed the subject to how much XP you would need for all your tools.

“Hey I’ve gotta go on deafen real quick be back soon!” Sap’s voice flooded your mic, he must’ve brough the mic close to his mouth because his smooth and deep voice curled around the mic perfectly, sending shivers down your spine as his warm tone filled your headphones. “B-bye” you choked out, pretending to adjust your headset as you continued killing mobs. “So chat, got any questions to pass this alone time?” you watched the chat speed up, hoping your mods would filter out poor questions. “Favorite. color? Easy who knows? Yup! You guys know me too well. Ooh favorite fast food place? This is hard cuz I don’t wanna say something you all don’t know but I can tell you guys my McDonalds order because it’s immaculate. Do I know Sapnap’s order? This is a good test you guys, I’m pretty sure it’s like an ungodly amount of spicy McChickens and a Dr. Pepper but I swear he changes it like every day.” you laughed, reading out other people’s orders then moved to debating if the icecream machine is actually broken or if the workers are just lazy. They’re lazy, confirmed by workers in chat apparently.

“I’m back but I have to go in like five minutes, did you miss me?” Sap’s voice flooded your headphones again. As you adjusted his volume you teased, “hmm nope!” to which he began pouting making you laugh at his “baby rage”. Just as you were finishing with enchants on your axe he had to go. “Don’t miss me too much I’ll talk to you later, chat behave yourself I know you all will miss me but just leave y/n open in a muted tab,” he teased making you roll your eyes, “whatever we’re gonna have a super secret conversation after you’re gone about how we only let you on the stream out of pity right chat?” you couldn’t stop smiling and laughing through the teasing. “Okay okay, I actually gotta go, see you soon,” you bid Sapnap farewell and returned to joking with chat, turning on media share to pass some time as you reacted to animatics, hilarious compilations, and the occasional y/n x sapnap video making chat light up as you laughed through the videos.

As you watched the videos and killed cave spiders you got a text from Sapnap.

You still streaming?

Yup! Where’d you end up going? you replied.

Open your door and find out

Your breath hitched. “One- one minute chat,” you pulled your headset off and heard a small rustling in your hallway. As soon as you tabbed out of the game you stood up, rushing off camera to fling your door open and,

There he was. His smile was infectious and you couldn’t help yourself from screaming and running into his open arms. As he held you, rocking back and forth, you heard him mumbled. “I missed you” Into your ear while you clung to him. “I missed you more,” you whispered back, Finally, you released him enough to peck his lips, unable to wipe the grin from your face. “I got food cuz you said you didn’t eat and I figured if I had time I wanted to spend it with you!” your heart practically melted, taking a bag of food in one hand and holding Sapnap’s hand with your other you realized you forgot to mute or end stream.

“Um, so I’m still streaming... what do we do?” you glanced up nervously but Sapnap just started laughing, “oh my god I guess I can say hi so chat doesn’t lose it’s mind,” you swallowed nervously, glancing down at your phone you had been tagged in endless clips of you running off camera then screaming about 15 seconds later. “Yeah better give them an answer,” you giggled.

Rushing back to your setup you saw chat blowing up as you put your headset back on. “Heyyy guys! So yeah, um I guess I can just show you that, we have a special guest!” You gestured to Sapnap to come into frame, pulling up a chair as he sat down next to you. “Yeah I gave y/n a visit cuz I was bored. Hi chat, hello, hello! You guys are going really fast dang,” Sapnap gripped your hand under the table, you squeezed back, leaning into his embrace. “So um, I think Sap and I are gonna hangout, right?” you glanced at him and he nodded, he really hadn’t stopped smiling since he got to your place. “Yup! Maybe if there’s time we’ll go live again I’m not sure! Kinda spur of the moment yeah?” you finished your thought. Saying goodbye to chat you ended stream just a few minutes later.

“We’ve really gotta tell people soon, I wanna be able to hold your hand on camera not just off,” Sapnap said between bites of food. “Yeah, I think it’ll be okay right?” You had always been nervous about stans hating you or people trying to get in between your relationship. “As long as I’ve got you I’m more than fine, I’m- I don’t know I guess I’m pogchamp,” you shook your head, “god you are such a dork,” Sapnap scrunched his nose with a laugh, “I’m your dork though so I’m so special!” and you couldn’t agree more. <3

#sapnap #sapnap x reader #dream team x reader #dream team fanfic #sapnap fanfic #mcyter fanfic #dteam fanfic #sapnap cute #sapnap x you #dream x reader #georgenotfound x reader

460 notes · View notes

gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Five of Pentacles

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | one

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the attack on Jortho, you begin your journey to scower the systems for galactic aid. The Mandalorian takes you aboard his ship temporarily, agreeing to shuttle you to your next destination. You both figure your tenure on the Razor Crest will be short lived... But you've been wrong before.

Word count: 3.8k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings: blood/gore, minor character death (mentioning), mature themes/language, vomiting

Notes: Hi friends. Here we go. Chapter 2... The last paragraph is marked with ///|||///, denoting a change to Mando's POV— his pov will be cropping up now and again, and I have a tendency to play with the timeline/tenses when it does. Enjoy x

You have to think about it. Genuinely.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit, with the Mandalorian looking down at you expectantly, a gloved hand slotted against his belt—postured and waiting.

‘Do you have a way off this skug hole?’

You open your mouth, but no words come out. It snaps closed. You swallow, but the action provides no relief. Your tongue feels too big for the small space it’s trapped in; too swollen, too dust logged— like you could choke on it, if you really tried. Finally, a single syllable frees itself, the weight of it plummeting through your ribs, ricocheting off the bones until it lands in your stomach with a dull, sinking splash.

“No.”

He doesn’t move.

“Do you need to get anything?”

You shake your head, small at first, phantom movements, before stringing together a sentence. “N-No. It’s all gone. Everything I had- it all went up on the shuttle-“

Oh gods, the shuttles.

Your heart seizes, a cold hand like a vice, gripping the bloody organ. You feel green; sickly chartreuse slithering it’s way up your esophagus, poisoning your soft palate. There were pilots on board when the ships blew. Two on each one. That’s four— four people. You knew their names. Knew their home planets. Knew about their families. One had a kid. Fuck. That’s four dead, and you didn’t even think of them— Maker, how could you not have thought about them?— No, fuck, fuck fuck-

It didn’t before but it’s hitting you now, stabbing you right between the eyes, the image of their bodies disintegrating in the blast wave, charring up like coal and carbon. You breathed them in, you realize. Their corpses coat your lungs.

The thought is all it takes.

Your feet move on instinct, scrambling to the side of his gunship where you vomit, bracing yourself against the riveted siding as you hack and sputter, wretching bile and what little broth you’d had for supper to splatter onto the cracked earth. Mercifully you’re hidden enough around the corner that you don’t think the bounty hunter sees, and if he does, he has the curtesy not to say anything.

What a gentleman, you think dryly, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

You pant, body beyond spent, chest heaving as you press your scratched palm into the durasteel, the cool metal soothing it’s sting. Moments stretch like this— you doubled over, catching your breath— before you stumble back into view, graceless and encumbered, as if you didn’t just casually throw up down the front of yourself. You stand below him at the bottom of the ramp. He’s still there, a fixed point. Steel boots welded into the steel ramp.

“Uhm, are you-“

You cough, and it’s an ugly, hoarse sound; your throat burns, roughened and raw around the edges, and your nerves are too strung out for polite colloquialisms. You don’t have the energy to play coy and tip toe around the question. You’re fucking tired.

You try again.

“Are you offering me a ride?”

And now it’s his turn to hesitate, almost like he didn’t fully think the proposition through— as if it’s all just dawning on him now.

The Mandalorian didn’t strike you as someone who familiarized himself with answering to anyone— or picking up hitchhikers, for that matter— even if the offer was his to begin with... That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Those words in that order? He meant to give you transport off planet? He wasn’t just… making conversation? Did Mandalorians even do that? Maker, if you’ve read this whole situation wrong, no small thanks to a laser-brain full of mush, you reckon you’d die from embarrassment on the spot where you stood, splotched with soot and puke and blood.

You think he’s going to tell you to shove off— you see his hand balling into a fist at his side— and close the ramp right then and there. Be rid of you. Sluffed, like a flea from a dog.

But he doesn’t. He surprises you both.

“Yes.”

Oh. Oh. Kriff, okay. Think think think-

Your mind reels and you’re rambling now, words ending and beginning in the same breath— steamrolling over yourself.

“Okay, I-I need to go back in to town, just for a—I cant let them think I’m just leaving them like this... Is that okay? I’m sorry, I won’t take long, I promise, I just— they need to know I’m getting help. Is that- uhm, can you wait? Can you wait for me?”

There’s another unreadable pause that makes you want to bury your head in the cold, fallow soil.

The man is looking at you like you’ve grown another kriffing leg, but eventually he grumbles out a noise that sounds like an affirmative, turning on his heel, and disappears into the belly of the ship— leaving you there alone.

Alone.

Pin pricks needle at the nape of your neck and the hair down your arm stands on end.

Alone.

You’re alone for the first time since the attack and suddenly you feel half your size and shrinking smaller still, like atoms collapsing and folding in on themselves until they dematerialize completely—and you along with them. You tell yourself to breath. To fight the bubbles of panic as they burst and pop, dimpling you from the inside out. Breath. Focus, he said. Focus.

You shift your weight from foot to foot, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

The Mandalorian never reemerges.

Well… you guess that was your cue.

///

Staggering back into Jortho is like sleepwalking through a nightmare.

The smoke from the bombing has completely engulfed the lower atmosphere, doming the town in a thick canopy; the sky is blackened, starless, and the moons hover noncommittally like mere suggestions in the dark canvas.

Half the town had been decimated to rubble, and the other half was covered in the shockwave of it’s explosion— caked in grime, windows knocked out, doors splintered open. You almost expected the pieces to have reversed themselves back up, like you’ve seen in holovid special effects—homes rebuilding, fires dousing themselves, air purifying itself from the smog… but they don’t. They remain in shambles.

Time has granted you the unforgiving gift of clarity, and it’s one you’d rather not have been given. You don’t want to see the aftermath without the saccharine filter of shock to cushion you. The town is just as you left it, but somehow worse— worse because you can hear the crying, now. The wailing. You didn’t before with the blood pumping in your ears, deafening you, but you do now. The woeful noises that reverberate over the crackling embers still smoldering, the muffled sobs being choked down behind fractured walls.

Tripping over stray debris, you find Hareem close to where you’d left her, her fuse short hair grey with ash. The blood you smeared from her cheek still clouds her skin there, staining it as it does your fingers that wiped it. She wobbles to her feet and meets you in the middle of the road.

Neither of you speak, not at first. You hold onto her shoulders, and like a pillar of salt, you quake.

You try explaining to her that the communication’s system on your transport freighter had been blown up alongside the town, that you’ve accepted a ride from the bounty hunter and that you’re getting off world to contact the RRM headquarters, that you’d stay if you could but you can’t and you need to call for assistance, for help. You try to tell her that you’d do anything— travel through dimensions, if you could, to undo all of this chaos— if the laws of time allowed it.

You want to go back and pretend today never happened. To unlearn the tremor in your hands as they grip her frame. To unlearn all of this. To unknow. But,

you can’t.

All you can do is move forward. Do the next right thing. Take the next right step.

You’ve explained yourself in circles but it still doesn’t feel like enough. The words feel shallow, like slapping some bacta on a severed limb, and guilt rips through you— your voice torn with it.

“But how can I leave now?” you ask helplessly, eyes skittering around you. “After all- all of this?”

Hareem finds your hands, her spindled fingers encasing your own. A crease engraves her forehead, little lines clustering around her eyes. “You’ve done enough, hm? You go now. Go with that Mandalorian. You can’t shoulder this alone.”

“Har-“

She doesn’t let you say it. The older woman soothes a thumb into the web between your knuckles.

“Make contact. Comm for aid. It will come, but it won’t if you stay here.”

Your shoulders release with a defeated sigh. You know the Balosar’s right— you’re the one who’s told her as much. That’s RRM protocol. In case of emergency, you were to comm in and reconvene with the closest branch to your system to send additional supplies and volunteers to the camp. You know this better than anyone here, and yet this woman, this refugee, was the one aping your mission back to you.

She’s firm. Kind. “You’re just one person.”

Briefly, you wonder if she’s a parent. You think her child would be lucky to have her as their mother-- all of her somber strength. You think you would have been lucky, too.

Maybe things would be different—maybe you’d be different.

You gather yourself, piece by piece, and give her knobby hand a squeeze. You bore into her, determined and unwavering. You need her to understand. “I’m not abandoning you—any of you. I need you to know that, okay? I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I know, my friend,” Hareem says plainly, a sad sort of resolve quieting her tone. She has no fight left, nothing left to give— as empty as her pockets, lint lined and turned out. Barren. “I know.”

///

You weave your way back to the ship, feet padding across the arid landscape. You don’t blink, not even once, eyes crusted open and gaping. You barely remember the trek but somehow you’ve managed it, treading up the ramp, the thuds sounding hollow and foreign to your ear.

“I’m not a taxi service.”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

“Maker almighty,” you gasp, hand coming up to clutch your canary heart, beating fast and frantic. He’s just standing there, waiting, the dimmed lights of the hull glinting off his beskar. It’d only been a few hours, but you had already somehow forgotten how kriffing imposing he was, how ominous. A vacuum in space.

“O-Okay,” you stutter, a twitch in your brow.

“I’ll get you as far as you need to go, but on my terms. I’m not making a special trip— can’t promise you when.”

You nod. You’re not sure what to say. Lamed, all you can do is repeat yourself.

“… Okay.”

“What sector?”

“Bajic,” you start, fiddling with a loose thread poking from your sleeve. “We- uhm, the RRM, we have a branch there, but then—” your throat bobs as you swallow your words, and he gives you an exacting look, tilting his helm subtly. There was no getting around it.

You’re pinned.

“Coruscant. I’ll need to get to Coruscant,” you finish quietly.

Did you just hear him ‘tsk’ under that metal bucket?

“It’ll take a while to get to the Core. Longer than you’d like.”

And here you go, babbling again before you can stop yourself, throwing up defenses, excuses— back pedaling. You’re earnest, and it’s dripping from you. “Listen, if this is too much, I get it. You don’t owe me anything. Really— you don’t have to take me anywhere you don’t want. I-I, honestly, I’m just grateful you even considered it.”

Silence. An endless sea of silence.

No current, no breeze. It feels like you’re stranded in dead water, drowning in it. Again, you hang there on bated breath, just waiting for the man to chuck you from his ship. Not worth the effort. Not worth the fuel.

And again, he surprises you.

He tips his chin, gesturing to the side. “Fresher’s that way. We’ll be up in five.”

You exhale, visibly relieved, and mumble a thank you before shuffling off in the direction he motioned towards. You get one foot through the door before you hear him.

“Dala,”

Your attention snaps to the Mandalorian. There’s that word again—you think he’s called you that before—but there’s something different in his voice now, a lilt you’d not yet heard from him. What is that? Nerves?

“There is… one more thing.”

You cock your head just as a gargled coo comes from somewhere behind him.

///

You look like bantha shit.

Which, considering the events of your evening, should probably go without saying— and yet, the woman staring back at you in the small refresher mirror still manages to startle you.

You’re covered in dirt and cinders and contusions you hadn’t had the luxury to notice before. With the adrenaline retreated from your veins, you finally feel the full scope of your injuries and Maker do they hurt. Your tunic is torn at the collar and the fabric is discolored, pants and boots scuffed and ashen. Your bottom lip is swollen, a split running down the side of it, the seam of which is cracked with dry blood. Your palms are scratched— knuckles, too. There are narrow licks from shrapnel bites nicking your forearm. Twisting your body, you discover a dark bruise already blooming on your shoulder from the initial impact of the blast. You’re stiff and achy all over, and you can practically hear your bones creak and groan with each strained movement.

You turn on the faucet and begin to bend forward before you wince, a sharp pain gripping your skull. Ginger fingers come up to touch the back of your head, patting around tentatively until you find a raised bump and something viscous wetting the strands of your hair. You pull your hand back, inspecting it— more blood, glistening black under the low light.

Your eyes flit back up to your reflection.

You should be scared at this point, you guess. Worried, at the very least, by all of this—by the gore of it, the cuts and marks. But it’s your eyes that frighten you most— they’re hard. Devoid. You don’t recognize them. You’re a stranger.

You blink. She blinks back.

Rust red water eddies in the basin of the sink as you scrub yourself clean. You let out a hiss as the cold stream hits your skin. You count your breaths.

///

Being anywhere on board his ship without the Mandalorian feels wrong. Unnatural. Like you’re a tourist, out of place.

Unsure of where else to go, you find yourself in the cockpit with the bounty hunter, sitting in the seat beside him. Glancing over the knobs and dials and pulsing displays, your focus drifts in and out, posture slumping, lids growing heavy, darkening around the edges of your vision, blurring—

“Try to stay awake.”

With a sharp inhale, your eyes snap open, blinking wildly, and you scoot your hips up higher into the seat. You shoot the back of his helmet an inquisitive look you’re not sure he sees, but he responds to it all the same.

“Could have a concussion.”

“Didn’t know you were a doctor,” you reply, tone low and rolling. Maker above, apparently the final stage of shock was sarcasm. The fact that you thought it wise to damn near sass a Mandalorian on his own ship after he saved your kriffing life...

Stars, maybe it really was a concussion. Brain damage. Had to be.

He doesn’t acknowledge the quip, which you can’t readily blame him for. A quiet beat, red buttons flickering against the dark of the cockpit, and then—

“There’s bacta in the medpack. Might not be much left.”

You’re wide awake now.

Your rebuttal is immediate, bristled even, words escaping before you have a chance to even consider his suggestion. “No— no, thank you, but I’m not taking the last of your supplies. I’ll be fine, you’re- you’re doing enough for me already.” He graces you with another of his grunts, a hush following closely behind it.

Your gaze wanders—it wanders onto him, and you watch him.

Watch as the stars dance across his armor, incandescent and shimmering. Hypnotic, even. Something you hadn’t noticed before catches your eye, and you have to crane your neck to get a good look at it. It’s hard to make out, but you think there’s a symbol on the pauldron adorning his shoulder. You can’t imagine it’s completely cosmetic, seeing as the hem of his cape is frayed and worn (and the fact that being a lethal hunter didn’t really scream ‘needless decoration’), but maybe, if you work up the courage somewhere between here and Coruscant, you’ll ask him about it.

His posture is carved out of stone and he sits like a statue, spine rigid under all that beskar. Fleetingly, you wonder if it’s heavy, if it’s uncomfortable—to carry it with him wherever he goes. But you suppose he’s grown accustom to the weight, wearing it like a second skin.

He’s broad too, you note. Of course he is, you recognized that straight off, but inside the confines of the ship, without the towering Lothal sky as his backdrop, it truly strikes you just how large the Mandalorian is. He engulfs the space around him. Devours it.

You stay like this, entranced, studying the man properly for the first time, allowing the muscles behind your tired eyes to relax on him— until his visor notches up quickly and meets your line of sight in the mirrored pane of the window, catching you in the act.

Kriff.

You avert your eyes, an embarrassed warmth crawling up your neck, suddenly finding a particular panel soldered to the wall incredibly interesting— looking anywhere else but at the faceless stranger you’re saddled with.

The kid gurgles, interrupting the awkwardness, and you’ve never been more grateful for a three pronged toddler in your life.

He’s sitting in the copilot’s seat opposite you, as if the tiny thing is navigating for the Mandalorian, and he’s completely dwarfed by the massive chair. Everything about him juxtaposes the other man. He’s all brown robes and wispy peach fuzz, and he looks almost comically out of place against the interior of the gunship. He’s playing with a shiny metal ball in his lap, and with one small arm, he extends it to you like a gift.

Out of the two of them, the child was a one man welcoming party.

“Is this for me?”

He gives a soft patuu, and your heart nearly bursts. You take it from him gently, and the little guy coos through a babbling grin, cheeks round and impish. “Thank you,” you tell him, all serious-like, and you have to actively suppress the squeal that threatens to break free from you. He glances to the Mandalorian with such a look in those big eyes; its hard to make out, but you think its something close to pride or satisfaction, maybe: Look dad, I shared my toy.

Kriff, this kid is cute. Like, dangerously cute.

You both take each other in like this; your micro expressions, his pruned little forehead, your fleshy form, all soft lines and angles. You’re sure you look just as strange to him and he does to you, especially given the only other lifeform on board he has as reference is coated from head to toe in metal. The child’s gaze snags on a lock of your hair, little teeth peeking through his mouth, eyes glued to it like a metronome as it dangles. You give your head a little shake, strands waving, and he giggles. You skip the ball over the hills of your knuckles, dazzling him momentarily.

“Does he have a name?” You ask, his eyes like black saucers peering curiously at you, and you give him back his toy— an offer he eagerly accepts.

“No.”

“So what do you call him then?”

“Just ‘kid’.”

A beat. “... Do you have a name?”

“Mando.”

“Just ‘Mando’?”

“This is the Way.”

You nod, worrying your cheek absentmindedly as you stare out the transparisteel. This is the Way. You’re not entirely sure what the phrase meant, but you know respect when you hear it— how reverent it sits on his vocal chords— and by the manner of which the man, this Mando, spoke, you can tell there’s more to those words than you know.

And you can appreciate his desire for anonymity; it doesn’t bother you much—you figure you won't be around long enough for it to matter anyways. You don’t know a lot about the Mandalorian people, but you have heard rumors. Everyone had. That’s all they were anymore: rumors and stories. Legends. Just seeing one was rare, and talking to one even rarer. But flying with one and his adorable, green baby? It was… definitely unique, to say the least.

You share more dulled quiet. And although the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable now—you’re settling in to it— it’s not exactly desirable either, but it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t last.

Mando clears his throat, breaking the white noise that’s blanketed the three of them. He doesn’t turn his helmet. He keeps his focus straight ahead. You watch his reflection in the ship’s window and you can’t know for certain, but you think you feel your eyes brush against his, if only for a moment. A unintelligible noise filters through his modulator.

“Do you?”

You grin, a slow smile tugging at your lips.

“Last I checked.”

It’s the first smile he draws from you. The first of many.

///

Despite Mando’s warnings and better judgement, sleeping is exactly what you end up doing. You pass out, hard, stirring only once when an errant beep sounds through the cockpit. You’d fallen asleep right there in the chair, chin tucked into your chest, hair fanned across your cheek, arms wrapped around your waist in a measly attempt to trap your body heat to you. You’ve woken to find the cockpit empty— the ship must be on autopilot, you think— and by the illuminating glow of hyperspace, you spot his medkit, sitting open on the seat across from you and in it, nestled among old wrappings and gauze, a single patch of bacta.

///|||///

That smile.

Din remembers this moment, much later, holding it like a photo in a locket. Private. Secret. He keeps you there, gold plated on a chain, to loop around his memory.

Encircling him. Strangling him.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x fem!reader #King of Cups #ngl i got kinda emotional writing some bits #idk why but the hareem scenes kill me #din djarin fic #mando x you #din djarin x you #no y/n #pedro pascal #mando x female oc #din djarin x female oc #ofc

159 notes · View notes

lloydskywalkers · 3 years

Text

chrysanthemum

1/2 of the fics i wrote for the 10th anniversary zine!! if you haven’t checked it out yet please do @ninjaneverquit-zine , everyone worked so hard and did such a wonderful job, i’m beyond honored to have been included <3

I may not have been in the fandom since the start, but ninjago means the world to me - it’s gotten me through some of the worst times and pushed further in writing than i thought i’d go, and the fandom’s been a particularly bright light in my life since i’ve joined 💕and of course i can’t not celebrate that by writing for the light of my life lloyd garmadon, so here’s me crying over the garmadons anniversary-style :’D

Garmadon’s son has only been on the earth for twenty-four hours, and he’s only been Lloyd for nineteen, but he already finds himself terrified of the tiny, living thing he cradles in his arms.

“He’s so small,” he tells Misako, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Is he supposed to be this small?”

Misako, who’s been answering questions similar to this for the better part of the morning, rolls her eyes. “He’s fine, Garmadon. He was born a little early, that’s all.”

Not as reassured as he should be, Garmadon returns his gaze to his son. He’s sleeping now, deathly still in his arms, and he resists the urge to wave a hand over his tiny face, if only to feel the small puffs of breath he knows must be there. He brushes a wisp of hair from his head instead, marveling at how pale it is.

“He’s got my father’s hair,” he murmurs.

“I don’t care, Garmadon, we’re still not naming him after the man.”

It’s Garmadon’s turn to roll his eyes. “I never said that. I said Montgomery was an unacceptable name to burden my son with.”

“Oh, your son.”

He misses the rest of her retort as Lloyd fidgets briefly, tiny features screwing up as he shifts. A flash of lightning from outside brightens the room, and Garmadon pulls Lloyd closer reflexively. The thunder crack follows soon after, and Garmadon flinches, the thick smell of rain filtering through the open windows. He can already see thick droplets sliding down the hydrangeas Misako’s growing in the windowsill, drowning the pale flowers. It’s been pouring all week, typhoons hitting the coast with gusto as they always do this time of year. Garmadon doesn’t like it — his son is much more suited for the sun and all its brightness, not the grey-skied downpour of thunderclouds.

Lloyd hardly reacts to the downpour, having gone still and silent in his arms once again. Garmadon’s heartbeat quickens. He shouldn’t sleep this much, should he? He doesn’t remember Wu being like that, but he was so young when Wu was born, and it was so long ago, and he can’t feel for Lloyd’s breathing now because the breeze pouring through the window’s too strong, and—

A soft hand sets on his shoulder. “Here,” Misako sighs, guiding Garmadon’s hand to rest gently over Lloyd’s chest. “Feel. That’s a heart, going strong.”

Despite his hesitance, a deep-rooted part of him still desperately afraid his touch might hurt something so small, Garmadon does so. Lloyd’s heartbeat is rapid and as fragile as a bird’s wing, but undeniably there. A small, living thing.

Something warm curls in his chest, and Garmadon thinks he might understand his father’s delight in creation — in things that live.

Not, of course, that his father has ever created anything so perfect as Lloyd, but Garmadon can credit him for having tried.

* * *

It’s weird, having a dad.

Not the concept of having a dad — Lloyd’s bragged enough about being the son of Lord Garmadon to at least get that part. But actually having him here, a living, breathing person who looks at Lloyd and cares—

It’s weird, that’s all. Not that it’s a bad weird.

“You need to wrap your hands, before you go hitting things like that,” Garmadon scolds gently, twisting gauze around Lloyd’s bruised, swollen fingers. “The others can show you how, for training. They should have shown you earlier.”

Lloyd bites his lip. He doesn’t tell his dad that the bruises are less from training, and more from pointlessly banging on bars in an attempt to get on Pythor’s nerves. It sounds silly, compared to the way his dad swept in like a big hero and took out all the snakes in single swipes.

A big hero. Lloyd wonders if the others will ever see him that way, too.

His hand twinges as the gauze pulls tight, and Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath. Garmadon flinches, drawing his hands back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “I keep forgetting — you’re so small.”

Lloyd makes a face at that. Small? “I’m not that short,” he grumbles. “I’ve grown lots.”

“Of course you have,” Garmadon amends. “I only—”

His expression twists, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. There’s that look again.

“I’m sorry,” Garmadon repeats, sounding downtrodden.

Lloyd purses his lips. For all his bragging, he’s never really thought much about whether he likes his family or not. It’s hard, when you don’t have one around to like. Watching the way his dad worries and his uncle walks around all stone-faced now, Lloyd’s not sure he should like it. He likes Uncle Wu, of course, and he loves his dad, but—

He hates the way they all walk around like they’re preparing for a funeral. His dad’s funeral, his funeral, whichever it ends up being. It’s stupid. Lloyd’s lived on the streets for months, and in Darkley’s even longer. He wouldn’t have minded walking around like he’s doomed for misery then.

But now? When he’s got people who care, and a family?

Lloyd sets his mouth stubbornly. He doesn’t know much about destiny, or the prophecy, but he knows he’s not about to lose this. Not when he’s come so far, when he’s so close to having — to being someone worth having around.

No funerals, Lloyd promises himself. He can see this prophecy through — they both can, the two of them. You have to be alive to be a family, right?

“It’s okay,” he finally replies. “I’m alright, dad.”

And he’s gonna stay that way.

* * *

When Garmadon had thought about the final battle in the past, he’d expected the darkness. The destruction, the pain.

He hadn’t expected to survive.

“So you’re really giving up fighting, then?”

Glancing up at Lloyd, taller now yet still small enough to not quite fit his bright golden gi, Garmadon finds survival a very welcome surprise.

“Yes,” he says, returning his gaze to the flowerbeds Misako’s helped him put in the monastery garden. They’re coming along well, despite the recent fits of bad weather, and they do a fine job of making the monastery look homey. Unthreatening.

He hopes, at least.

“I think I’ve done enough fighting, for my part,” he continues. He gives Lloyd a wry look. “I’m not sure Ninjago could take much more of it from me, anyways.”

“I dunno,” Lloyd says. “It’s been getting pretty boring.”

Garmadon snorts. “Boring is something you should appreciate, son. Excitement isn’t always good.”

“No, but it isn’t bor—dull,” Lloyd mutters, crouching down to study the flowerbeds. Garmadon shakes his head in reply, sighing. He remembers being his son’s age once, yearning for the next thrill, even if it feels ages away now.

He’s got a whole lecture on appreciating the quiet moments on the tip of his tongue, too, when Lloyd speaks up again.

“We used to have these flowers at Darkley’s,” he says, tilting his head as he studies them. “Some of the boys tore them all up and threw ‘em at the window, but they were pretty before that."

Garmadon bites the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing. His expression softens as he spots the gentle way Lloyd handles the flower, carefully pushing it back to place. It never fails to baffle him how someone as gentle as Lloyd could’ve come from his beginnings, much less from Garmadon, but he treasures it.

“Snapdragons,” Garmadon says, instead. “Fitting flowers, for our family.”

Lloyd looks at him curiously, eyes bright with the light of suspicion, and Garmadon is tempted to tell him the full truth, then and there. But Lloyd is still so young, innocent and naive and barely come to terms with his place as the Green Ninja. The truth of their blood is a heavy one, and Garmadon can’t find it in himself to lay it on Lloyd’s shoulders today. No, his son is happy among humans, so a human he’ll let him be. Someday he’ll know he’s more, closer to the dragons he admires than he realizes, but not quite yet.

Miraculously, Garmadon has the time, now.

“If you stay after dinner, I can show you how they’re planted,” he offers. Lloyd nods, and Garmadon’s smile widens.

Destruction is in his blood, and he’d be blind to say it isn’t in Lloyd’s as well. Power is power, whether it’s bright and beautiful or stained in darkness, and Lloyd could shatter mountains as well as move them, if he wanted.

But Lloyd never moves to pull the flowers up, only watches them rustle slightly in the breeze, leaving them to grow a little bigger, a little brighter. Garmadon, for his part, watches his son, all bright eyes and the burnished gold hair of his grandfather, and reminds himself that one needs not be a master of creation to appreciate life.

* * *

Lloyd likes to think of himself as an optimist, for the most part. He’s at least good at pretending that he is one, with how many times he’s had to convince himself it’s worth it to get back up.

Right now, he’s trying to remember how he’s ever managed to convince himself, because this time, getting back up seems impossible.

Lloyd used to wonder, back during Morro, how far you had to push yourself to break like that. How far someone had to push you, to truly splinter. He thinks he might have found his answer, though his is less of a bitter hatred and more of an empty abyss of hurt.

It hurts to breathe. That would be a sign that something’s wrong, if Lloyd didn’t already have about sixty other signs that he’s in trouble. But the breathing thing is sticking out to him especially, right now. His lungs feel like they’re scraping against his ribs every time he tries to draw breath, bruised and stinging, and there’s a deep ache in his chest that grows worse by the minute.

He tries swallowing again, sand scraping down his throat as he does. He hisses out a breath instead of coughing, almost frightened that his lungs will give out completely if he does.

He says almost, because Lloyd isn’t sure what emotions he’s got left to feel anymore.

A lie. Pain starts numb, sometimes.

Lloyd’s chest spasms as he sucks in another breath, and he wishes the desert would swallow him whole. His father — his real father, who pushed him from the Cursed Realm and told him to return to light and living — would want him to stand back up. He’d beg him to, stress the importance of continuing on, of persevering. Stuff like that.

But if it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t have to get back up in the first place. If it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t be—

His eyes burn, stinging as he squeezes them tightly shut, and he tells himself it’s the sand.

Instead, he focuses on the ragged beat of his heart. He only knows it’s there because his chest throbs in pain with every pulse, but he latches onto the feeling and holds tight.

Still alive, he tells himself, even as every bit of him sings in agony and his lungs scream at him to stop. He’s still alive. His powers aren’t answering him but they will, he knows they will, he can’t disappear like he did with Morro. He can’t — he can’t leave it, not like this, not with his father — not like this. If he can’t stop Harumi, if he can’t save his father, if he can’t do anything else at all, he can at least do this.

Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive.

He’s never realized how long the nights out here are, before.

* * *

After everything, the light dies down and the Oni vanish, and Lloyd’s heart stops.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Garmadon, who isn’t even sure his own heart beats now, but it is.

It’s not supposed to stop. There was a promise made, somewhere, to keep it beating.

It restarts before he has the chance to process what that even means, and the swell of relief is so foreign, Garmadon leaves before he even has the chance to ask Lloyd what he’d seen. He thinks to himself, that will be the end of it. The end of whatever tentative connection he has with the boy, whatever frayed and tattered threads of something they once had. Better to cut them away for good.

Lloyd’s not one to let things die, though. Garmadon should know that at least, the boy tells him.

“I know you like repeating yourself,” he mutters. “Letting go is different.”

“That’s not what this is,” Lloyd huffs back.

Garmadon rolls his eyes, the two of them drifting aimlessly down the Ninjago City garden paths. It’s secluded, the rest of the city still recovering, and Garmadon’s grateful for the quiet, even if it is awkward. Building any kind of bridge with the boy is difficult, if only because Lloyd stresses that they’re rebuilding a bridge, and Garmadon has no memory of any bridge to begin with.

He’s still sifting through jumbled emotions, sorting out what his place in this world was and is supposed to be, but he knows that the word son slips easier from his mouth than daughter ever did, so he figures he’s on the right path, at least.

“It’s about—” Lloyd pauses, his expression contorting. “It’s about surviving, I guess,” he grinds out.

Garmadon’s mouth curls into a grin. “Really. You were quite…vocal, that it was about more than that.”

“It is, it’s just—” Lloyd cuts off again, stopping them in a half-ruined section of garden still littered with remnants of concrete. “It’s the payoff, you know? Here.”

He bends down, brushing dust from a surviving scattering of flowers. He gently touches the edge of a petal, pushing the flower head toward the sun. “See?” he says. “After all that, it’s still alive.”

Garmadon stares at the delicate edges of the petal, smaller and more fragile than any of the buildings that crumbled beneath his rule. At Lloyd’s nod, he stretches his own fingers out toward it, his hand impossibly dark and calloused next to his son’s own small one. But he brushes his fingers over the petal edge nonetheless, almost surprised that it doesn’t decay beneath his touch. It’s soft, he notes, like the fragile skin of a newborn. Odd that it should’ve survived, out of everything else that perished.

“So it is,” he says, carefully. Lloyd says nothing, but there’s a ghost of a smile around his lips. They must make an odd sight, the pair of them crouched in the dirt in the recovering garden. There’s no use in sitting here and looking at the flower, no explanation Garmadon can offer himself, but he doesn’t leave. He can take the moment, he decides, to appreciate what Lloyd is trying to show him.

They too, after all, are still alive.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #garmadon #my fic #oh nO im getting emotional now

265 notes · View notes

loveablejeekies · 4 years

Text

kissable lips ─ bc.

-ˏˋ plot ˊˎ- : ❛ you join chan’s vlive but it turns out that he can’t stop thinking about how good you look so he ends vlive early to start something else with you. ❜

-ˏˋ tags ˊˎ- : ❛ skzmember!reader. neck kink. puppy kink. i have no idea if chan’s studio is soundproof or not, let’s pretend it ain’t. ❜

-ˏˋ reader ˊˎ- : ❛ amab, male pronouns. ❜

-ˏˋ genre ˊˎ- : ❛ fluff, steamy. ❜

-ˏˋ wc ˊˎ- : ❛ 2.585 (2.5k) ❜

-ˏˋ note ˊˎ- : ❛ the italics are english for this lmao. ❜

you’re beyond bored. you’ve finished all your practice lessons for today and now there’s nothing else for you to do. you can’t go bother any of the boys because as far as you know; seungmin is having a dance practice, hyunjin and jeongin are out for dinner, changbin and jisung are probably locked in one of the studios working on music, lee know is most likely at a corner of your shared apartment posting selcas with weird filters on instagram and last time you checked felix was in his room scrolling through youtube.

you had no idea what chan was doing though.

in fact, you hadn’t seen him since early that afternoon when he stopped by your dance practice to check up on you. bang chan liked taking care of each of you in that way. with small gestures that deep down meant a lot to all of you. you liked him, he was the best leader you could ask for.

okay, maybe you liked him as something more than that.

but that was out of the question. you weren’t really sure that you could ever be that straightforward with him about it.

maybe chan would be free though and maybe he’d be just as bored as you. you could spend some time with him but first you needed to find him because as of right now, you had no idea where he was located.

felix’s door was wide open so you slipped inside his room, said boy looking up from his phone to you when he saw you standing there. “y/n? what is it?”

“lix, you know where channie hyung is?”

“why? what do you want from him?” felix’s eyebrows wiggle suggestively and both of you giggle like little schoolboys at his question. “nothing, ‘m just bored and was wondering if he was doing anything since all of you are so busy.”

felix rolls his eyes so hard that for a moment you’re scared they’re gonna get stuck in the back of his head. but you don’t dwell on it that much, instead springing in action when you hear his response. “he’s at his studio, doing a vlive.”

throwing an, “okay bye! thanks lix!” over your shoulder, you hurry towards your bedroom.

you were very aware of the fact that you were basically bouncing at the balls of your feet as you skipped around your living quarters but you also didn’t particularly care about it. the only thought in your mind is to get ready as fast as you can and head towards the JYPE building as soon as possible.

before you could bolt out of the door, you stopped to stare a little at the reflection shown in your mirror. running a hand through your hair and giving a cheeky smirk to your reflection, you winked once before pulling your mask over your mouth and nose and securing your black cap on top of your head. “you look nice, love.”

the walk from stray kids’ living apartment to JYPE’s building actually takes longer than you thought. so you could only hope that chan hadn’t already finished the vlive before you got there as you check the time on your phone when you board the building’s elevator. 8:34pm, surely chan hasn’t finished yet.

the initial thought was visiting him because you were bored but now that you actually think about it, conversing with stays wouldn’t be that bad either.

you get off the elevator when the ding! sound is heard and start speed walking towards the general direction for chan’s studio. you hesitate a little as you reach it’s door. in your excitement, you didn’t actually think if chan would even want you joining his vlive, he was doing the vlive to converse with stays and since you didn’t like it when someone interrupted your time with stays, you weren’t sure if he would either.

before you can even decide on what to do, you hear something from inside the studio that stuns you. that’s your voice isn’t it? you can hear chan say something that you don’t understand (in english you’re quite sure) and then his little giggle followed by something in korean that warms your heart. “he’s good, isn’t he? I told him he did great but he was so shy about it, it was kind of adorable.”

you knock on the door after, gathering all of your courage. if chan doesn’t want you ruining his vlive, he’s gonna have to deal with it anyways.

“speak of the devil and he shall appear.” chan sing-songs in a high pitch voice as soon as he sees you peak your head through the doorway. you’re not quite sure when’s the last time you’ve seen him smile so big, teeth on full display and dimples popping out more than ever.

“speak of the devil and he, what?” you’re only partly confused by the sentence that came out of his mouth. the english half sentence comes out of your mouth in a weak way that resembles a squeak that a crow makes. chan laughs loudly, gesturing for you to enter.

you let yourself in right away, walking to chan’s side and standing behind his studio chair. you rest your hands on his shoulders as you lean forward a bit to look at the screen that is recording him. “hello stays! heyyy.”

chan giggles once again, one hand coming to sit on top of yours. you lean down and cup your hand around your mouth as you whisper in his ear. “is it okay if I stay for a bit?”

“yeah, of course!” chan says, immediately pulling a chair next to him and watching as you make yourself cozy on it. “guys, y/n is gonna be joining us for the rest of the vlive so I hope you’re okay with that.”

you can’t pay attention to what he’s saying even though you try to, (english just isn’t your forte), and instead realize that your voice is still coming from the speakers of his laptop, even though it’s at a low volume, you can surely recognize your own voice. “you showed them my song?”

“mhmm.” chan pauses at what he was saying to look at you. “you’re really good, stays liked it a lot.”

“not sure why, it’s half finished, guys.” you laugh shyly looking at the screen that is recording you just to avoid chan’s burning gaze.

with the way that he’s looking at you, all of your previous confidence has practically left your body. the boy in a wolf’s clothing that was winking at his reflection in the mirror just minutes prior is gone and in his place now sits a puppy avoiding it’s owner when they know that they’ve done something wrong.

not that you’ve done anything wrong.

and you’re also not a puppy as well as chan isn’t your owner.

“well, I think it’s great and I like it a lot, and the same goes for stay. right stay? y/n’s song is really good, hm?” the moment he looks away from you, it feels like you can breathe again. for real, you were holding your breath all the while his gaze was burning at your side profile.

maybe if you ignore the looks that he keeps giving you, maybe if you try to focus on conversing with stays or god maybe if you focus on the fact that there’s a freaking camera recording the both of you. then, maybe just maybe, you can survive the personal hell you unintentionally put yourself through. you just wanted to get rid of your boredom and then yeah maybe you wanted to tease chan a little but you definitely didn’t expect to be attacked like this twice in a time space of five minutes. both from his compliments and his intense eyes that you swore burned holes in you.

as much as you try to avoid looking at chan, he finds a way around it. the next time that you look towards the phone that’s recording you, your eyes find chan’s through the reflection, chan’s eyes that were already looking at you.

you’re basically reduced into a mess after that.

giggling at every compliment he gives and blushing every time your eyes meet or whenever he leans across you to temper with some buttons on his laptop that is unconventionally placed on your side of the table. you’re sure he can feel the stutter of your heartbeat whenever he brushes even the slightest against you.

the vlive ends sooner than you thought. you’re not sure if he did that on purpose or if time really did pass by that fast. it can’t be the latter, with your hyperawareness, you know that you would notice when time tickled by so fast.

it kind of is silent after the screen of the phone that was once recording you turns black and you can’t help but hold your breath when chan turns to look at you after that.

“now it’s just the two of us, angel.”

you don’t expect the nickname or the smirk that follows it and you’re kind of shell-shocked for just a second before you remember to stutter a reply. “angel?”

“yeah, angel,” chan tilts his head to the side, one side of his lips pulling upwards in an even wider smirk. “you prefer something else other than angel?”

you force yourself to swallow, the dryness of your throat making your adam’s apple bop. chan’s eyes are drawn to it and you notice his tongue just barely peeking between his teeth to lick at his bottom lip before his eyes hold yours captive again and make you pull your gaze from the very hot moment.

“I asked you a question, angel.” god he was so hot. where did this come from? it was one thing the looks, but other than that, chan was giggling just as much as you. was it a cover? or was he actually just as flustered as you in front of the camera and now that the camera is turned off, he’s getting bold?

you remember that he did ask a question that he most likely wants you to answer by the way his hand comes up to rest on your knee. when did you pull your legs close to your chest? and when did the room start feeling hotter?

“no,” you stumble over your words in your haste to answer back. you didn’t want to make him wait, wanted to be good for him. “n-no, angel’s good.”

chan’s eyes twinkle with something akin to mischief. you answer faster than you’d like to admit at his next question. “are you gonna let me hold you, angel?”

“y-yes! I mean, uhm..” you cough a little, chan doing his very best to muffle his chuckles just to help you get your blushing face under control. “yes, you can hold me.”

he doesn’t need to hear another word from you as he hoists you from your seat, on his lap. you’re kind of taken aback by his purely muscle strength and you let him pull you closer until you’re straddling his lap, your arms falling loosely across his firm shoulders.

chan brushes his nose against yours lightly and you can’t help but sigh dreamily, eyes slipping closed at the calm that washes over you by even the simplest action. chan hovers his lips on top of yours but doesn’t fully kiss you. you brush your nose back against his, a little bashful.

“can I kiss you, angel?” your heart is doing somersaults inside your chest as you feel yourself swooning from the nickname he gave you and the fact that he’s so freaking gentle, it almost hurts. “yes, you can kiss me.”

it starts out unbelievably soft and romantic, your lips mold together like puzzle pieces meant to find it’s pairing since the start of time and suddenly you can feel every nerve in your body come alive.

your hand slides lower towards his chest as the kiss gets more heated and you can feel just how fast his heart is truly beating.

chan’s lips leave yours and slip further down, to your jawline and then even further down towards the smooth skin of your neck. he mouths at your adam’s apple, and then sucks lightly on it. chan continues to suck love marks on your neck and the underside of your jawline.

you’re too lost in the pleasure to realize the sounds coming out of your mouth until chan pulls back a little and murmurs against the corner of your lips. “you sound like a pup when you moan, baby.”

oh god. ohgod, oh fuck. nope, this isn’t happening.

you pray to fate or whoever is looking down at you to have mercy on your poor soul. you can only hope that chan didn’t hear you-

“did you just whimper?”

fate is a bitch that never listens to you.

“n-no..” fuck you and your freaking voice that just now decided to turn a whole octave higher out of nowhere. you clear your throat, heartbeat beating louder than ever before.

chan pulls you by the back of your head and you try to fight against his grip but it’s scientifically impossible with how much stronger he is from you. he makes sure you’re looking into his eyes before he opens his mouth and speaks that fucking sentence that has your mind spinning. “are you a good little puppy?”

the moan that you let escape your mouth could only be described as something straight out of a porn film and you feel embarrassment flood you as you clamp your jaw shut and pray that nothing like that ever leaves your mouth ever again.

but chan is looking at you in such awe that you really start rethinking that. you notice that he’s breathing more than he was before and his eyes have darken significantly. you open your mouth to say something but chan smashes his lips on yours before you can even think of something to say.

this kiss is much heavier than the first one. chan has made it his mission to taste you whole as he forces your lips open and entangles your tongues together. it’s messy and filthy and so fucking hot, you can feel your toes curling at the sensation it provides you.

you spend a lot of time sitting there, arms wound around each other the same way your mouths refuse to part from each other’s. you don’t realize when your full on make out session was joined by grinding against each other on both of your parts but you aren’t complaining.

eventually you pull back, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. chan kisses at your cheek several times, refusing to stop and relax a little even though his own chest is burning from the lack of air.

you whine, moving forwards until your chin rests snugly on top of his shoulder, turning your head and rubbing your nose against the side of his neck. you’re far too content laying like that on top of him as you get yourself comfy and feel drowsiness creep around the edges of your mind. chan’s constant, slow and rhythmical patting on your bottom isn’t really helping in your silent fight against sleep.

“turns out, you do prefer something else other than angel.”

you’re only conscious enough to whine a little before you feel him chuckle and kiss the crown of your head as you let sleep wash over you.

#stray kids x male reader #straykids #stray kids #stray kids smut #bangchan #bang chan #bangchan x reader #straykids bang chan #stray kids chan #kpop smut #kpop bgs

586 notes · View notes

croatian-nt · 3 years

Text

Sejan podcast

I know this isn’t in order but I also know everyone is waiting for this one so, here you go. Translation under the cut

Host, speaking to the camera: Good day dear viewers, and today-a treat. Dejan Lovren and Šime Vrsaljko. I was tempted to start this off with Šime's famos phase: Good day working people, tonight is a live" but it seemed a bit too much

Host, turning to them: should we expect something like that from the two of you during Euro as well?

Dejan: it's spontaneous for us. For Šime and me. We never know what will happen

Host: oh I see. Is it also partly the fact that you are a bit older now-

Šime: *giggling *

Host: -so you have this mindset of "oh we are older now, we'll leave it for younger players"?

Šime: *giggling louder * well no-we only improve with years that go by

Dejan: we get even worse

Šime: *openly laughing * yes, even worse!

Host: but the two of you continued that tradition even after WC. You call one another, you go live, you guve yourself into the ether, so to say

Šime: I mean, it's not...it's not showing people as much as they think-

Dejan: we show them maybe 1%!

*everyone laughs *

Šime: yeah we show them maybe 1% of the way we-I mean, we show everything through positivity and that's it. I guess people like that

Host: I know the two of you have been active during quarantine. You were both probably bored and had quite a bit of interesting conversations. Maybe we should touch a bit upon that. Is it something you guys plan or does one call another and then you just talk?

Dejan: Oh, it's as I said before. Šime knows that when I call him, I'll call him three times. He has to answer

Šime: yeah, we really don't plan that. I often have some things I am doing but then he is calling me to comment on something and I-I don't have the heart not to answer

Host: so Dejan, you were also quite bored in quarantine, and you tries quite a lot of activities. I believe cooking was also one and that one steak ended up burned

Dejan: the house almost burned down

Host: *laughs *

Dejan: no, seriously

Host: so it ended up completely black huh?

Dejan: yeah. But I did learn how to cook better after that

Host: and you Šime? I believe you said you didn't cook the eggs but the eggs cooked you. That there was oil everywhere

Šime: I mean, they closed us in the house. And I had some friends over and we were all really hungry so I made some eggs. They asked for fried eggs but they ended up getting scrambled ones

*about getting haircuts in Russia*

Šime: so I came downstairs, after the lady was finished with Kova already. And we share a glance and Kova is like 'brate...this really isn't good' but I take a seat anyway, hoping it will turn out alright. And then she started cutting it and I felt she was taking out too much hair so I stopped her. Still had patches of hair missing. It was awful

Dejan: the rest of us surely didn't let him forget about it

Host: so how did all of this start? I know the two of you were roommate and that Dejan pressure you into opening instagram account, which you didn't want to do. But you did in the end

Šime: yeah, he was pesting me about it for days. 'Šime please. Com'on just open an account please' and what could I do? I relented. And then...I think we made that Marica video first?

Dejan: yes, that's how it all started

Šime: yeah. I didn't know how anything on Instagram worked, so I played with filters and that's how Marica happened. Interesting, what can I say

Host: what's interesting is that none of that was planned. There was no plan, no censure, nothing. You just showed us things as they were

Dejan: well I think that's the best, really. Plans rarely work out as you want them

Šime: yeah. We didn't do it to, I don't know, pretend we are funny or for views or something like that. Just...what happens, happens

Host: do you miss it now? The fact that you aren't roommates?

Dejan and Šime overlapping: we didn't-weren't

Dejan: everyone has their own rooms. But it's practically like we are. Not much of a difference

Host: how did you think of your famous "aj lajk" idea?

Šime: well I don't it'-

Dejan: something got messed up in his brain

Šime: -something clicked in or out of place

Dejan: he just said something like "aj lajk a lot" and that was the end of it

Šime: no, I remember there was something-there was that moment well-erm

Dejan: laughs *

Šime: *sighs, shakes his head * I was watching this comedy from Jim Carrie and then he-and then he- *loses a train of thought *

Dejan: *laughs louder *

Šime: *smiles * there was something he did and-I thought of-

Dejan, whispering: aj lajk

Šime: no, it was-

Dejan, louder: ajjj laaajk

Šime: it was something different

*continous laughing from both Dejan and the host *

Šime: ...anway it was also spontaneous

-Card break-

Host: let's make first card break. You take the cards and ask the questions one to another

*Šime and Dejan take each one card *

Host: you can take all of-or you can take them one by one. Nevermind

Dejan: so what, I am asking him then?

Host: yes

Šime: don't give me any hard questions

Dejan: a yacht or a sailing boat?

Šime: a yacht

Host: a big one?

*voices overlaping *

Dejan: as long as everything fits in-

Šime: it doesn't really matter-

*pause. Šime shrugs. Dejan starts laughing *

Šime: I don't wanna sound too posh here. I don't spend much time on yachts and I was never on a sailing boat. And I am not very patient-

Dejan, overlaping: he doesn't have patience for that-

Šime, still overlaping: yeah, exactly-

Dejan, speaking over him: I think he is more likely to push the sailing boat himself-

Šime: I really don't think I'd like that- not one bit. Anyway, SUV or Cabriolet?

Dejan, looking pained: Cabrio.

Dejan: VAR or not VAR?

Šime: *sighs * no VAR

Šime: Jennifer Lopez or Shakira?

Dejan: *thinking*

Šime: Can he choose both?

Host: he can, but if he can choose one that would be better

Šime: I am just giving him an option

Dejan: JLo

Šime: ah, fine I guess

Dejan: rock or hip hop?

Šime: I listen all kinds of music so it depends

Šime: iPhone or Android?

Dejan: iPhone

Host: Šime you didn't play a lot of games because of your injury. We are all happy you are back now but I am curious. How did you feel at home, watching them play and suffer on the pitch while you are at home?

Dejan: what about how I suffered?

Šime: If someone told me I will not play for the nt for so long after WC during WC I eould have called them crazy. But I kept postponing the injury during WC and I paid the price after. So yes, it was hard, watching my boys that I spent so much time with, play without me and struggle while I wasn't there. But I am here now and we have a big chance once again to cheer up people who love Croatia

Host: Deki, there have been some new player joining the nt recetly. How do you think they are settling in?

Dejan: I think, good. I mean when I remember my start, of course you are a bit more shy but I am sure they'll be more outgoing with time. But they seem like nice guys

Host: do you think there is a potential in some of them to continue this entertainment thing you and Šime do? Or are they more closed of?

Šime, cutting in: I think there is always a way to joke around a bit. But-

* Dejan, shaking his head and mouthing no*

Host: no huh?

Šime: but-

*voices overlaping *

Dejan: it just doesn't exist-

Host: how would you encourage them to-

Dejan: you can't. You are either born that way or you aren't

Šime: I mean the two of us have been in the nt for awhile now and it's always the same. Every morning if I wake up even at 4 am I'd start laughing

*Dejan laughing *

Šime: it's just the way it is and you can't really describe it

Host: I wanted to ask, I don't know if this will ever happen but I would like to see you two as hosts one day. If you could choose someone to ask questions as host from the nt, who would it be?

* Šime and Dejan share a look and burst out laughing *

Šime, still laughing: no the thing-the thing is, the two of us commented on probably every famous person ever. Connected to sports or not. But if I had to choose-if I had to choose someone I think I'd laugh to tears with while interviewing it would be Goran Bare

*Dejan giggling in the background *

Šime: it would really be a show

Host: if he could hold a concentration during the whole interview

Šime: I mean it would be something casual, like this. And for the questions we would have...I reallly don't know

Šime, looking at Dejan: who would you choose?

Dejan: I don't know

*silence *

Šime: com'on brate, say someone

Dejan: hmmm. I don't know. No one is coming to mind right now

Host: and from the nt? If you had to choose one teammate?

Dejan: Brozović

Šime: well yes but-

Dejan: he is maybe number one for me right now. I just remembered

Host: and would he agree? To come to a show hosted by you?

Dejan: not only would he agree. He would have to agree

Šime, unconvincinly: mmm. Yeah

Host: Deki, did you get used to life in Russia?

Dejan: well yeah, yeah I did-

*Šime giggling *

Dejan: it's not how I expected. I expected to be able to survive the winter but it's really cold

*Šime bursting out laughing and coughing *

Dejan: I went out on the balcony one day and thought "my freezer is warmer than this "

Šime: so meat can be kept outside with drying clothes. If it's that cold. How cold it is?

Dejan: -30 C

Šime: wow. There we go then

Host: you didn't visit him yet?

Šime: no

Host: and you won't huh?

Šime: oh no *laughs * I said I didn't not that I won't

Host: Šime how did you face Luka after snatching the trophy from him?

Šime: normally. But I remember thinking-since he scored last minute to Villarreal and we won our game. If we ended with a draw and he scored a goal in last minute and won the championship-uff. I wouldn't be able to look at him

Dejan: he doesn't even have space for any more trophies anyway

Šime: him?

Dejan: yeah. Like com'on

Šime: but. Um- *looks at Dejan and forgets his sentence *

Dejan: dragi

Šime: hmm?

*Dejan laughs *

Šime: don't talk too much

Host: We had Budimir here yesterday and we talked about how he got into argument with Savic. He didn't want to tell us any details, but he said you'll surely tell us everything

Šime: he really pushed it all on me huh?

Someone off camera: that's not exactly how he said it!

Šime: I mean I don't want to judge because I am on good terms with both of them. I didn't get involved and I actually found someone else to argue with-

*Dejan laughs *

Šime: but I am really close with Ante while we are with the nt but Stefan is also my friend I talk to every day so. I wouldn't want to pick sides

Šime: I am glad Ante scored thought and that the club bought him so I congratulate him on it this way-oh he just entered

Host: Ante you came a little late. We just talked about you and Savic. Šime told us everything

Dejan: he insulted you to the fullest

Host: he told us everything, we heard a completely different story from you, just so you know

Budimir: will I need to give some sort of reply?

Host: it's too late for that, you had you lr chance and you didn't say anything

Šime: I wanted to say, there was tension during the whole game and it escalated jn the tunnel-

Host: oh Luka, you are a bit late too. We talked about you as well

Luka: I was here already before-

Host: I think he waited until you left to say something-

Budimir: I just wanted to say, he sent Grbic after me. The biggest one

*all laugh *

Šime: I didn't even see Grbic. I was too busy with some other things. Some my exhibitions

-Cards break-

Dejan: who has the best image?

Šime: ufff. Hmmm *thinks for about 30 seconds * Based on my taste? I guess Mateo? He knows how to dress well

Dejan: *laughs quietly *

*everyone from the background start laughing *

Host: you are not of the same opinion

Šime: well I said it's based on my taste

Dejan: next question

Šime: who has the best car?

Dejan: what should I say?

Šime: just say it's you, brate

Dejan: I mean Barišić has a good car

Host: Barisic huh?

Dejan: I wanted to say Luka but Luka is *makes dismissing gesture with his hand *

Luka: soon!

Šime: Luka will have it soon but tastes shouldn't be discussed. Besides whoever has the fastest doesn't mean he is the fastest

*everyone laughs *

Host: so who is the fastest?

Šime: well that I don't know. We should have some sort of competition

Dejan: who gets ready the fastest?

Šime: ufff. I don't know. I really don't know. I can tell you who gets there last but-

Host: who gets there last?

Dejan: captain

Host: Luka huh?

Dejan: well you know it's when you pass 30-31, you immediately pay a fine. So he comes exactly at 30

Šime: but at yesterday's lunch, you should have seen that show. It was 29 minutes and 45 second when suddely the door opens and everyone rushes in. There was pushing and running...chaos. but that's because we have some new regulations like no being late, no phones...but I think that's great

Host: who paid the most fines?

Dejan: ufff I can't quite remember. But I think Reba and Perisic

Host: now I'd like you both to tell me about your childhood, but perhaps something not football related

*Šime and Dejan burst out laughing *

Šime: there is still more of these dragi *giggles *

Dejan: are you fucking with me

Host: alright sorry guys, my bad. Continue

Šime: are you asking me or am I asking you?

Dejan: you ask me

Šime: no, I asked you last. You ask me

Dejan: alright. Who eats the healthiest?

Šime: I think Deki does

Dejan: Me??

Šime: yes. The way he makes and mixes those salad he eats...I am sick from only going to that part and looking at all the stuff you are supposed to put in them. But he does it so carefully and he clearly enjoys it. I mean we all eat healthy but he is like...yeah

Dejan: I mean I really do like salads. And I have this whole pressure-captain sits next to me and he says "make a double salad"

Šime, overlapping: well yeah, he uses him a little, so what-

Dejan: and it has to be perfect, salted to a gram, otherwise it's "what did you put in this?!" *sighs * it's fine

Šime: who cooks the best?

Dejan: cooks???

Both of them: no one

Host: alright so, your childhood. Šime, you can go first

Šime: my childhood? I don't know what to say, really. It was good, I grew up loved, surrounded by fun and playing games with my friends outside. I also thankfully have a younger brother and...I don't know. Most of my fondest memories are the ones spent playing outside, usually with the ball of course

Host: which neighborhood?

Šime: well we moved once so there were two addresses in Zadar, until I finished middle school. And then I went to Zagreb at 14

Host: what about you Dejan? I know you had a harder childhood, but I'd like to touch upon happy moments and not so much on bad ones

Dejan: what should I say? I don't know where to start. I mean I had a really nice childhood in Germany. My parents introduced me nicely to the real world pretty early on. I remember at that time I thought we had everything we needed but...in the background everything was burning. I think I only realize how bad the situation was when we got back to Croatia. But that's alright-it happened for a reason. And I think we can all be proud that we survive it. I am actually sad my brother didn't went through that with us. He was too small

Host: you spoiled him a bit huh?

Dejan: well no. He is 10 years younger. By the time I went to Lyon he was just starting to grow up. Maybe that's why I-because of what happened I developed quite a character. So I can proudly say we all went through that together and today that's something that doesn't have a price

Host: you went to Zagreb when you were only 14 right? Although I believe you said in one interview you really wanted to go

Šime: I wanted to go because it was a call I couldn't refuse. It was football and football is my biggest love. And it's something you just feel you need to do. And when you are that young you are just pulled by your goal, by the love for football. But when I came and when the process of growing up was suddenly sped up...only then did I realize the consequences of my decision. But at that time that was a challenge to which I would never admit defeat. So there was only victory left. And I did win that game of my life. Those kind of moments left a mark on you. As Deki said those things make you stronger and make some things later in life easier

Šime: but don't get me wrong! I am not saying it wasn't nice as well. I am talking her like it's something awful-

Host: was it too much of a change to you at first?

Šime: well no, it was great for me actually. I was supposed to go to Hajduk at that time and I went to two tournaments with them in Zagreb, we won that tournament, I won the best player award and they were demanding for me to come to Hajduk but they couldn't make a deal with Zadar and then the offer from Dinamo came and...there wasn't much thought on my part. It was really great. I was at dorm for the first 6 months. And...I don't have time now but one time when we have time I'll talk about the details and my experience with boys from both on and off the pitch. It was a time of self descovery for me so to say

Host: Deki, I have to ask you something. I have a friend that played with you in Inter and he said that you spend the whole night with them celebrating, but you only drank Cola and similar drinks. Never alcohol

Šime: impossible. I don't believe it

Host: that's what he told me

Šime, turning to Dejan: is it true? How old were you?

Dejan: 16 or 17 I think?

Šime: oh okay, then I believe it

Dejan: I mean I had this sort of mentality of looking at things ahead. It's not that I never got drunk. I got absolutely plastered and I walked on my knees-

*everyone laughs *

Dejan: -but I definitely had days I didn't drink despite hanging out with teammates because i didn't feel like it

Šime: *still laughing *

Host: He is dying of laughter. I don't understand why

Dejan: that's because he saw the time I was on my knees and ge remember that now-

Šime: *laughing louder *

Dejan: so now for him that's-

Šime: no it's *laughing do hard he is incomprehensible * it must have been some time before the game so you didn't drink *proceeds laughing *

Dejan: well yes, that's what I am telling you. The rest of them were getting wasted anyway

Šime: *laughs even louder * this was good, my god

Host: he has good tricks huh?

Šime: no I mean, I am not saying what he is saying is untrue I just *laughs *

Dejan, overlapping: he just saw the worst version-

Šime: I know how he gets when he-*laughing harder *

Dejan: -saw the full transformation-

*both laughing very hard *

Šime, wiping his eyes: oh my god.

Dejan: anyway, next question

Host: Šime that jump of yours after a ball during the game against Belgum...what happened?

Dejan: blackout

Šime: I mean yeah-I was so mad

Host: but jumping with both legs-

*Dejan laughing *

Šime: he is laughing but I am still mad. There were so many situations with Lukaku, he kept pushing the players with the whole "oh I am strong, oh I am fast" I mean he is but. Still. So when I saw him leading the ball I wanted to-I want to shorten his....

*everyone except Šime laughs *

Dejan: his legs

Šime: his way to towards the goal. And I failed and when i saw that in a duel I lost the ball-

* Dejan laughing again*

Šime: and I was tired and under stress so I had to get it all out somehow so i don't do something worse later

Dejan: I remember watching TV and I saw that, I looked at my brother and then back the TV and I said "he had some sort of blackout there"

Šime: I just did what I had to do. If it was concrete there, I would have threw myself at concrete at that moment

*Dejan absolutely losing it *

Šime: I am serious. I would have honestly threw myself at the concrete at that moment

Dejan: *slaps his arm, still laughing *

Šime: I realize it was a bit unexpected from the outside but I just had to do it so I don't endanger anyone else's health later

-Cards break-

Dejan: only two cards?

Host: no there are supposed to be three

Dejan: *looks around, no sign of third card *

Host: lost it on the way huh? It's fine, there can be two

Dejan: alright. Favorite book?

Šime: pfffff

Dejan: *laughs *

Šime: there is no favorite book

Dejan: *laughs harder *

Host: nothing huh?

Šime: no. I know there might be a phase in my life when I will read books, but for now...I just don't have a patience

Dejan: *continous laughter that increases everytime word 'book' is mentioned *

Šime: favorite song?

Dejan: uh. I can't really choose, it depends on a mood *thinks for a moment * but now...let's say from Oliver "Bez tebe"(without you)

Dejan: favorite city?

Šime: Zadar

Šime: now another question that won't be hard to answer. Favorite number?

Dejan: *shurgs * 6

Šime: you didn't really choose some hard questions

Host: if you had a choose one player from the nt who is really special? Personality wise as well-

Dejan: Broz

Šime, nodding: Definitely Brozović

Host: I keep hearing about him. Maybe people from the outside have the wrong idea about him-

Dejan: wrong idea? No, they have the right idea. Exactly the right idea. The guy is hilarious, but also an amazing player. I cannot believe someone can eat 2 kg of pate, 2 croissant and coca cola before a WC match and just. Run for 15 km. I just don't understand that. And then when you ask him how he says: "pateee" and makes hand gesture to the sky. I really don't understand him. I would need 4 days to recover from eating all that

Šime: yeah his mental state...I don't think there is much of a difference for him when he wakes up in the morning on a normal day or when he about to enter a pitch. But I think when you meet him you are surprised actually. He is actually quite quiet and nice and really smart, with a big heart

Host: and he is honest right?

Šime: yes. There is no doubting for him. He will tell you everything to your face and what you think about that-that's your problem. I think that's great

*about their lives and interviews from Russia*

Šime: one thing that I specifically remember from videos of our interviews are people trying to read our lips

Dejan: oh god *laughs *

Šime: I remember whispering to Dejan "look that guy is the same Strina

Dejan: the guy really looked identical

Šime: and someone wrote that I said "look at that woman with big boobs"

Dejan: *laughs harder *

Šime: I mean, how do you even read it so badly??

-Last card break-

Šime: which teammate would you let choose an outfit for your night out?

Dejan: Šime Vrsaljko

Dejan: which teammate would you choose...as a business partner

*they share a look and start laughing, the entire audience joining them

Šime: Well Dejan Lovren, of course

Šime, calming down: alright, alright next question. Which teammate would you choose to-*starts laughing * to-to babysit your child for a few hours?

*everyone burst out laughing *

Dejan: Šime Vrsaljko

Dejan: now, listen to this

Šime, already half laughing: yes?

Dejan: which teammafe would you choose to...change your tire

*both burst out laughing again *

Šime: *catching his breath but still laughing * what-I mean what should I say *laughing again, shrugging * oh fu-

Šime: which teammate would you choose for a gaming partner?

Dejan: *thinking * but you are always playing those video games. Call of duty and stuff. I have to pick Šime again

Šime: well I really sometimes do-

Dejan: sometimes?

Šime: often-and then I tried to get him to start playing-

Dejan: and I did, during lockdown. And he got me into Call of duty. And after 5 hours I say "I am going to bed" and my wife wakes me and she is like "dragi you are shaking "

Šime, laughing: he was shooting!

Dejan: it completely scrambled my brain. So I quit. Stupid video games

Dejan: alright now tell me...who would you choose as a partner in a fight?

Šime: ufff. Well him. I'd choose him for everything. It's a matter of trust. If we were to get into a fight together-

Host: you'd take a punch for him?

Šime: we'd-we'd make it a good fight. Guaranteed

Host: well guys, that's it. I hope you enjoyed-viewers certainly will. This will be viewed a lot I bet

Šime: it was good. Fun. Although I saw that in some podcasts they drink while answering-

Dejan: where did you see that?

Šime: in podcast. When Goran Bare was a guest they also gave him the-the-

Dejan: so I end up on my knees here? Don't be ridiculous-

Šime: -and we'd open the topics much easier that way

Host: I don't know what your coach would say to that-

Šime: -it's classic art. I am not saying we have to drink here just that I think it's cool

Dejan: *laughing *

Šime: maybe some people are a bit stiff so this would help them relax

Dejan: how do you think we'd be like? How relaxed?

Šime: from 1 to 100? 200

Host: well you gave us a good idea for maybe some future podcasts-

Šime: but I think that would need to happen when there are no football activities involved-

Dejan: I think the chair would be sitting on me and not me on a chair

*both laugh *

Šime: just prepare us two beds here so we can lie down after

Host, turning to the camera: Anyway, dear viewers, we'll stop here for today. I hope you all had fun today, and watch us tomorrow as well

#dejan lovren #sime vrsaljko #vatreni podcast #sejan #croatia nt

49 notes · View notes

uncommoncold · 3 years

Text

One Rainy Night

Summary: After a night of heavy drinking with the boys, Hongjoong wakes up naked in a hotel room. Did he sleep with one of the group? If so, who?

Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warning: Boys Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunken Kissing, Oral Sex

Ugh…

Hongjoong opened one bleary eye. Something familiar was in his line of sight but it took a moment for recognition to set in. It was a bottle of water and a bottle of Tylenol. What was beyond it however was entirely unfamiliar. He had never seen that lamp before. He was used to waking up in unfamiliar places. He had woken up in countless hotels but something was whispering to him that something was wrong. His body felt… strange.

His sleepy brain slowly began to filter information. The first thing it told him was that he was naked. He didn’t normally sleep naked, in fact he never did. Then he saw the table littered with an intimidatingly large number of empty soju bottles. If he had that much alcohol on his own he would be dead. He cast his eyes around and then he realized he heard the shower running. He hadn’t been alone and they were still here. His heart hammered in his chest. What the actual fuck had he done last night? Had he slept with someone?

Hongjoong shot up and tried to wrack his brain, trying to remember what happened the night before.

The barest of memories reached out to him through a heavy fog. He remembered they had gone out drinking, all 8 of them and a few staff members to keep them in line. Why hadn’t they kept him in line? Unless… oh dear god. Please tell him he hadn’t slept with one of the group members. He looked over at the open shower door and slipped from the bed. Immediately his head pulsed and began to pound. He reached over for the Tylenol and downed a few tablets before he stalked back over to the bathroom and barely peeked around the edge of the door frame.

He could only see a person shape through the curtain of the shower. He couldn’t see any detail at all, he honestly couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman. Considering the lives they led, unless it was a staff member (which he couldn’t really rule out), then - then… Oh god what had he done?

He could just end the torture by walking over and opening the shower curtain or saying something, he was mustering his courage when his phone went off. He ran over and grabbed his pants and pulled his phone out, wrestling with the denim and the device, dropping the phone on the bed and watching it bounce off the other side and onto the floor. He scrabbled after it and finally managed to get it up to his head. The screen read, Song Mingi. “Hello? Hello?”

Shit, he hung up.

Well that eliminated one person. That was when he noticed the time, shit. Shit. Shit. He was supposed to be at the office over an hour ago. That was probably why Mingi was calling him. He wrestled his pants on, falling over onto the bed face first as he struggled to get them on. Finally, he managed to get them up and zipped before locating his shirt on the floor with his underwear. He stuffed his shorts in his pocket.

The person in the bathroom called out. He couldn’t quite make out their voice from the distortion of the shower and echo of the bathroom. “Uh, I’m late. IhavetogoI’lltalktoyoulater.”

In more than a little bit of a panic, he gathered up the rest of his thing and put on his boots before running out of the door. He kept things at the office because he often slept there and the first thing he did was grab some clothes and take a shower before running down to get to work. Mingi had fallen asleep on the couch, what the hell was wrong with him? He swore to god he was never going to touch a drop of alcohol ever again. He wasn’t even going to pass a bottle to someone else.

“Mingi!” He slapped his leg.

Mingi opened his eyes with a frown before he saw who it was, “There you are! Where were you? I was getting worried, I tried to call you…”

“I slept in, sorry.” If it had been anyone else, they would have noticed how dodgy he was being, the way he wasn’t meeting Mingi’s eye. “I’m here now, we should get to work.”

“Yeah okay… What happened to you last night?”

Immediately he stiffened, “Happened?”

“You were really drunk, okay we were all drunk but you, Wooyoung, and San were so drunk. I’ve never seen you guys that drunk. I went to the bathroom and when I came back, you three were gone and Seonghwa went to look for you. I didn’t see any of you again before they sent us home.” Two of the staff members also went missing, he had assumed that they had gone to wrangle the missing members.

“I-... Let’s just work now.” Hongjoong turned around and looked for his notebook with Mingi’s eyes boring into his back.

“Hyung… are you okay?”

Oh great, Mingi noticed he wasn’t quite right today. He took a deep breath and tried his best to shake it off. He turned and offered him a smile, “I’m fine really, just a bit hungover.”

“Oh! Let’s go cure your hangover and then we can work.” Mingi hopped up and patted his stomach, “It’s lunchtime anyway.”

Hongjoong winced as he looked at his phone again. Saying it was lunchtime was being generous, it was after 2pm but to be honest, he thought that getting some hangover soup would probably be the best thing for him. With a sigh, he shagged a hand through his hair and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

Pollack soup really hit the spot and it did wonders for his throbbing head. Mingi chattered on about a million things, which was a relief. He didn’t know the turmoil going on in Hongjoong’s head. At least now that head had stopped pounding and his stomach was sated.

“Here’s where you guys went.” Two hands planted on Hongjoong’s shoulders and he jumped nearly a foot. He didn’t have time to recover though, he felt himself shoved over in the booth as Wooyoung shoved in beside him.

“I want to sit next to Hyung.”

“Why?” Wooyoung threw his arms around Hongjoong as San sulked.

“Move over Mingi.” San pulled a face at Wooyoung and when Mingi didn’t move immediately, he climbed over the back of the booth and settled in.

“Last night was wild!” Wooyoung exclaimed as he reached over and got himself a bowl of soup.

“Hey leave me some!” San whacked Wooyoung’s hand with a spoon as he tried to take the last of the soup. Wooyoung yanked his hands back and gave his compatriot a dirty look for hitting him.

“Hyung, he hit me!”

“I’m about to hit you too, let San have some soup.” The last thing he needed were Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum acting up. Then something occurred to him, it might have been one of them he had spent the night with. Oh god.

Wooyoung pouted, “After all we’ve been to each other?”

That got Hongjoong’s hackles up, “What we’ve been to one another?” His voice came out in a squeak.

Wooyoung opened his mouth to speak and Hongjoong slapped his hand over his mouth. Wooyoung stared wide eyed back at his leader in confusion.

“No, no! Just eat your soup. I don’t want to hear anything from either of you, just sit there quietly and eat your soup.” Slowly he lowered his hand from Woo’s mouth who immediately leaned away.

“What’s wrong with you today? Are you still hung over and what, you got really wild last night. I’ve never seen you that drunk before, it was great.” Woo beamed and jumped away as Hongjoong reached for him.

“You were just as drunk,” said Mingi. “You both were completely wasted.”

San looked abashed and decided to eat his soup in silence.

“I was sober enough to get a cab!” Woo managed.

Oh thank god, Woo got a cab back last night. That marked him off the list. So, two down and six to go, if you didn’t count the staff which might or might not have warmed his bed the night before.

Now did he dare to admit that he didn’t have a clue what happened the night before to people who would never, ever let him forget it and probably talk all about it on the next VLive? Woo was sober enough to remember what he did. “How did you get home San?”

San looked surprised, “You don’t remember?”

Shit! SHIT FOR ALL THE REASONS!

Now what did he say? “Pieces of it are a bit foggy.”

He didn’t want to admit that his memory was less than crystal clear but it shouldn’t be as bad as if he said he didn’t remember it at all.

“I would have thought you would have remembered that .”

“ That ?” Woo asked as he leaned forward suddenly riveted by whatever it was that San was talking about.

“Hongjoong knows what I’m talking about, don’t you?” San lowered his spoon to his bowl and looked intently back at Hongjoong.

SHIT! Oh Christ, was it San? Was it San he spent the night with? There were a hundred thousand thoughts all vying for space in his head but it was more of a scream. Better to admit he didn’t remember what it was or just pretend he did?

It wasn’t like he could flat out ask him, ‘ Sorry did we fuck last night ?’

With a weary sigh he took a drink from his glass and looked back up to San and shook his head.

San all of the sudden looked delighted, “Great! If you don’t remember then I don’t want to tell you. We don’t need to ever speak of it ever again.”

Did that mean it was a San and he didn’t want to remember it? He was vaguely insulted, though he should be happy that it was San who was capable of keeping his own counsel and not Woo who wasn’t.

“Oh come on, tell us!” Woo bounced in his seat and whined at San.

San shook his head and took a bite of his soup.

“ San! ” he whined again.

“You’re going to harass me until the day I die aren’t you?” San asked.

“You’ve got the right of it and the left of it and every minute until the day we both die.” Woo said with a mischievous light in his eyes.

Hongjoong watched in dawning horror as he realized that San was about to spill the beans over what had happened the night before.

“Oh fine, I puked on Hongjoong’s boots.”

Just as San started to speak, Hongjoong screamed, “NO! NOTHING! NOTHING HAPPENED!”

“I thought you’d think it was funnier than I do.” San said with an expression of mild confusion.

Woo started laughing and clapping his hands.

“I was just trying to save you the embarrassment…” Hong said weakly.

“That’s so gross.” Mingi added while giggling. “What did Hongjoong do?”

San smirked, “He squealed and ran off into the rain. Seonghwa and Bomi ran off after him, I don’t know what happened after that.”

That was right, it was raining. If Bomi ran after him, then it was possible that it was her that he spent the night with. But as much as he wanted to convince himself of the possibility, he knew that was a man’s voice heard in the shower this morning. That left…

Maybe.

Who knew what happened after he ran off? Why had he gotten so drunk? He was paying for it now. What he needed to do now was talk to Seonghwa. How the hell did he ask him what happened? If it was Seonghwa he had been with then how would he react? But if nothing had happened between them then maybe he could get to the bottom of this whole nightmare. He got up and crawled over Woo without giving him the chance to move, hitting him in the face with his ass. Woo yelped in indignation and flailed helplessly as he tried to get Hong’s ass out of his face.

“Where are you going?” Mingi asked.

“I’m gonna go pay the bill.”

All three men who remained at the table cheered in delight.

Hongjoong paid the bill and hurried out onto the street. The temptation was to head back to the company and just bury himself in work until Yunho told him that he had to come home for the night. Then perhaps he could run away to Tahiti or New Zealand or somewhere else equally far away where he could change his name and get a job playing songs on the beach for the tourists.

He stared down at his phone and thumbed it on and then off and then on and then off and finally on again. He didn’t go into the group chat, he just messaged Hwa directly, “Are you home?”

He started back to the company and stopped at 7-11 downstairs. He checked his phone again and there was still no answer. Dammit Hwa…

After buying a drink he went up to the office and tried to work. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get his brain to focus on anything but the image of laying in bed with Seonghwa. Of all of the guys it could have been with, Seonghwa and Yunho were the least horrifying. All of the rest of the guys, he felt more parental toward. Seonghwa and Yunho were more like brothers than his children. Why did he keep picturing it? Was it memories? No matter how he tried, he couldn’t pull up any memories of it at all.

No, that wasn’t true there was the vaguest memories of silken lips running down over the side of his neck. The feeling of teeth and a tongue nibbling at his ear, tongue tugging at his earring. He remembered the heat and the lips continued down over his bare chest and stomach, pure white hot sensation unlike anything he had ever known. Was that Seonghwa? Even worse, was it a stranger? Was that worse? God, he didn’t even know.

The buzzing of his phone jolted him from his fraught memories. He looked down and saw Seonghwa’s message telling him that he was home and then asking if he was going to come home tonight.

Should he go home?

He couldn’t run away from it forever. It wasn’t as if he was actually working or anything. Hongjoong drummed his fingers on the desk a few times before he typed out that he was on his way back home.

“What? Really?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to type something snippy but the memory of smooth skin under his own lips, the taste of salt and sweat flickered through his mind. It jolted him through to his core as he just stared at his phone. Jesus.

Without giving it any thought, he typed, “Really.”

The trip home was one of the longest trips he had ever taken, it made the flight to Los Angeles seem like a quick jaunt. He had been excited when they went to L.A. but he was just tied up in knots now. What was worse was that he couldn’t shake the small amount of memories that were plaguing him. It was so easy to picture that smooth skin and those soft lips as belonging to Park Seonghwa. What did it mean if it was? Where did that leave them? Where did he want it to take them?

Dammit, he didn’t want to imagine, he wanted to remember. According to Ming, it had been Woo, San, and himself who had been the drunkest but Seonghwa had been drinking too but was he drunk enough to forget? He had the distinct feeling he was the only one who was drunk enough for that. Both San and Woo remembered their drunken antics and worse, they remembered his.

When he walked in, it sounded like the whole family was home and having a good time. He could hear Woo and Mingi’s voice raised above the din. In fact, their raised voices were most of the din. He followed the roar toward the living room where he saw the frequent scene of chaos that often reigned. Oddly enough, it was only Yunho, Mingi, and Wooyoung who were acting up. Yeosang, San and Jongho were playing a game together and Seonghwa was watching a drama with his headphones on.

The very person he wanted to talk to was wholly absorbed in what he was watching and hadn’t so much as lifted his head.

Now that he was there in front of him, he wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to interrupt his show. He was obviously enthralled, of course he always was. “I’m home!”

Yeosang peered up from his computer screen and raised a hand, the other two weren’t in a position to see him. Yunho looked up from the headlock he was holding Mingi in and smiled, Wooyoung turned and waved. “Help!” was all that Mingi had to offer… rightly so.

Hongjoong shook his head and decided to go to his room. Seonghwa would come to the room sooner or later. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Seonghwa felt like whenever he didn’t come home from work for days at a time, that anxiousness.

It took him awhile but he managed to occupy himself while he waited. It was nearly three hours before Seonghwa walked into their shared room. He looked a little surprised to see him there, “I didn’t know you were home.”

Hongjoong scrambled off of his bed and over to his roommate. Now that he was here he wasn’t sure what to say. He wrung his hands together as Hwa looked back at him expectantly, “Are you okay?”

“I- I don’t, no I’m fine I just- Do you know what happened last night?”

For what seemed an eternity, Seonghwa didn’t say anything, he just looked back at him. Finally he spoke, “Of course I do. I guess the question is, do you?”

If there was anyone he could trust to not say anything to the others about his lack of memory it was Seonghwa but this whole situation was different, especially if they had slept together, if Seonghwa was the man in his fuzzy and fractured memories. He took a deep breath and shook his head, “No, I don’t.”

Seonghwa looked skeptical, “Nothing at all?”

“Not nothing, I just remember bits and pieces but nothing concrete.”

“Well if you don’t remember then it didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me and it should probably just stay forgotten. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Seonghwa left Hongjoong just gaping after him as he gathered his things and headed off for the bathroom to take a shower.

So it had been Seonghwa after all but there was something that he said that bothered him. He couldn’t shake it as he sat on the edge of his bed staring at the closed bedroom door. ‘ It didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me ’. What did it mean to Seonghwa? It wasn’t as if he had given him a lot of hints. The only hints he had were his own memories and they were sparse at best. He ran his hands through his hair, no matter what happened from this point, nothing would ever be quite the same.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t just forget it, he couldn’t just let it lie and pretend it never happened, though part of him wished he had remained blind but now that he had seen a glimpse, he couldn’t just let it go.

That left him with that question that Seonghwa left him with, what did it mean to him? It was hard to say when he had so many holes in his memory but he did know that he had never felt pleasure like that before. So how did he feel about Hwa? That was a good question. He was one of his best friends, he was his rock, he could always rely on him to be there for him. He was sure he couldn’t do what he did without him but how did he feel about him as a man? He admired him, he always had. His physical beauty was undeniable. He had never known he was attracted to men before but it seemed that something changed last night or maybe it hadn’t? Maybe he had always been attracted to him. Maybe that was why he was uncomfortable with physicality between them?

The door opened and Seonghwa wandered in and walked over to his bed and began to get ready to climb into it.

“Seonghwa…” Hongjoong got up and walked over to him. Looking slightly annoyed, Hwa turned around.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Telling you won’t help, it won’t be more than me telling you. Besides, I don’t think you really want to know. Do you? Do you really?”

Hong paused for a moment and thought of all of the things he had been thinking for the last hour, over the whole day of terror and confusion, “Yes.”

“I can’t make you remember but there’s one thing I can think of that might jog your memory.” Without any further words, Seonghwa leaned in and kissed Hongjoong. At first it was a mere brush of the lips but slowly it built, growing in intensity. Strangely, it wasn’t the kiss that jogged his memory, it was Seonghwa’s scent. The smell of his shampoo, the clean smell of his skin, it hadn’t been Seonghwa who had come onto him, it had been all his own doing.

He remembered running off into the rain and for some reason, he didn’t want to be caught. He wasn’t sure as to his reasoning but he remembered running and hiding. Seonghwa found him and he managed to wrangle him back to the hotel. By the time he got him back, the crew had taken the rest of the members back home. Since he was worried Hongjoong might escape again, all Hwa could think of was getting a room at the hotel. Which he did.

Seonghwa changed out of his wet clothes and then did the same for Hongjoong, they continued their drinking. Then he remembered laying on the bed, staring up into Seonghwa’s beautiful eyes, feeling his warm hands moving over him as he dried him off, then he leaned up and kissed him. Hwa had pulled away and muttered something about kissing him when he was sober but he had merely kissed him again. Again, Seonghwa pulled away. He wasn’t sober himself but he was more sober and he knew that there was no way that Hongjoong would behave like this if he were sober, he had to be the responsible one… or he could try.

Hongjoong’s lips found his bare chest and dragged down over his smooth skin. Jesus there was only so much he could take. If he hadn’t already taken his clothes off, he would have just walked out but if he stayed, he would do something he shouldn’t. It took supreme effort but he pulled away, put his wet clothes back on and went home.

When Seonghwa drew away from their kiss, Hong looked a good deal more enlightened than he had before.

“So… we didn’t do anything?”

They had kissed, rather a lot but he knew what Hongjoong was talking about. “We did not.”

“But I wanted to… what happened this morning?”

“You don’t remember that either?”

Hongjoong shook his head, “I just remember waking up and you were in the shower and I was naked in bed.”

“I didn’t molest you while you were sleeping, I came back to check on you and you…” Seonghwa gave a disgusted look, “You threw up all over me. So I took a shower.”

“Oh.” Hongjoong winced, “Sorry.”

“You were drunk, it happens. I just wish it had happened to someone else.”

There it was.

The memory, the whole truth of it. Now that it was in his mind, he found not only did he want to the night before, he still wanted to. He leaned back in and kissed Seonghwa who, in shock, didn't respond immediately. When he did there was something almost desperate in his kiss. He had wanted this for such a long time and to be teased with it when he was at his weakest had been torture at best. Now neither of them were drunk. They both had all of their faculties and Hongjoong was kissing him.

In a reversed version of the night before, this time Hongjoong was the one who was peeling off Seonghwa’s clothes as well as his own. They fell together onto Seonghwa’s bed.

“Are you sure you want this?” Hwa asked breathlessly between kisses.

Hongjoong raised his hand to Seonghwa’s cheek, how long had he suffered in silence? How long had he wanted without ever saying a word. Everything fell into place and he understood it all now. “I want this … I want you.”

All of the air was knocked out of Seonghwa’s lungs and he gasped, staring into Hongjoong’s beautiful face. For the first time, he relaxed and let himself surrender to what was happening between them. He pulled away and Hong looked at him questioningly but smiled as he watched Hwa lock the bedroom door.

Hwa wished tonight they could have the hotel room again. He hated the fact that the house was full but he couldn’t say no, not tonight. Hongjoong held his hand out to him and he walked forward and took it, sliding back down onto the bed with him.

Their lips came together in heated concert, Seonghwa revelled in doing everything he had wanted to do the night before. His kisses trailed down from Hong’s lips, down over his jaw, down his neck. He felt his body arch up against him as it had the night before but this time he felt no guilt, no need to hold himself back. Freed from restraint, he gave himself body and soul over to the heat and the promise that built between them.

A tiny sound of pleasure fell from Hongjoong’s lips. It surprised him, he had never had time for relationships or even sex. Before the group it was all work while pretending to go to school. After the group, it was just all work. He found himself utterly swept away as warm hands caressed over his skin. They work each other’s clothes off until they lay side by side, skin to skin. Their naked cocks pressed against each other.

Seonghwa seemed far more confident as his lips moved ever lower, grazing over the smooth musculature of Hongjoong’s chest, the flat planes of his belly, over his ribs, his tongue snaking out to trace over his hip bones which made his stomach tighten and cock jump. Seonghwa peeked up and grinned before flicking his tongue against the glistening tip of Hongjoong’s prick. Hong’s breath caught and he reached out, fingers dragging through Seonghwa’s dark hair.

Hungry for the taste of him, Hwa didn’t hesitate even for a moment as he opened his mouth to him, hot lips gliding down over his turgid length.

Oh god, the heat, the feeling of Seonghwa’s tongue… he had never known pleasure like it before in his life. It was all he could do to keep from crying out, he bit his bottom lip between his teeth. It wasn’t enough so he covered his mouth and bit the heel of his hand. He raised his hips in small thrusts, meeting each bob of Seonghwa’s head. He raced for the pinnacle, a sheen of sweat broke out on his skin, his balls tightened, his cock swelled. Trying to warn Hwa, he tapped frantically against his shoulder and arm.

Seonghwa already knew, he pressed forward, pushing Hongjoong’s cock to the back of his throat. The first spurt of cum shot over his tongue, he swallowed and kept swallowing each and every drop. Seonghwa licked his lips and smiled. Hongjoong just stared back at him in wonder, finally reaching to brush the backs of his fingers over his smooth cheek.

Now that the frenzied haze of desire had rolled back slightly, he looked at Hwa, really looked at him. He was an unspeakably beautiful man, even now when he looked more than a little shy and unsure of himself. Hongjoong sat up and caught Seonghwa’s lips in a tender kiss.

Hwa gasped into that kiss, clinging to Hongjoong desperately.

Hongjoong let himself enjoy the taste, the feeling of Seonghwa’s lips before he kissed down over his throat, over his collar bone. He dragged his lips over his chest, stopping to ply his nipples with attention, feeling them tighten against his lips before continuing his travel down over his stomach. He wasn’t as skilled as Hwa and he had to admit he was a little nervous, he had never pleasured a man before and had only the example of minutes before to guide him. Nervously, he licked his lips as he wrapped his fingers around Seonghwa’s long, thick prick.

Seonghwa watched, holding his breath. Part of him didn’t believe that Hong could do it but that was shattered moments later as he bent down and wrapped his beautiful lips around the thick head. He was awkward, a bit unsure in his motions but it was still ecstasy to Seonghwa. He turned his face into the mattress and suppressed a groan. It was everything he had ever imagined.

Hongjoong bobbed his head up and down, fucking his own face with Seonghwa’s cock. It was one of the most beautiful things Hwa had ever seen and it was rapidly pushing him toward that precarious edge. His fingers fisted in the sheets and he writhed beneath the delicious onslaught. “I- I’m gonna…” It was all he managed to breathily choke out before he began to cum.

The first wave took Hongjoong by surprise, he pulled back only to be struck across the cheek and lips with the second and third wave. Quickly he leaned back in to catch and swallow the remaining seed.

Seonghwa gave a little smile as he saw his cum painted on Hongjoong’s cheek. He leaned forward and lapped it delicately up before sealing his lips in a sensuous kiss. They lay together, simply enjoying each other until the fatigue of the day began to reach its demanding fingers for Hongjoong, “I’m sleepy.”

Seonghwa smiled and kissed his slightly pouting lips. He could sleep anywhere and when sleep came for him, he was helpless to resist its siren’s call. As much as he wanted to share his tiny bed, it was probably for the best that Hongjoong go back to his own bed. It took some coaxing but once he was tucked in, Seonghwa stood over him watching him sleep for a little while. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring but for now, now he was happy.

He walked over and unlocked the door before crawling into his own bed and letting blissful dreams claim him.

NOTES: Other works can be found on my master list.

#ateez #ateez smut #seongjoong #honghwa #ateez imagines #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #seonghwa #kpop smut #kpop imagines

109 notes · View notes

stormgardenscurse · 4 years

Text

“Fairytales are just that, right?”

A Twisted Wonderland AU + childhood-friends situation with the Octatrio. There’s a backstory written for the reader, though, so if you’re uncomfortable with that you might want to skip this post. No gender is specified as usual, hope you’ll enjoy this!

Word count: 1.1k

Everything’s the same, except Twisted Wonderland and the world we’re from exists together, where magic folk live secretly from us.

The merfolk reside in the oceans, with a sort of barrier at the end of their territory that keeps us out and filters pollution away. Areas nearby these barriers (on our end) are said to have cleaner waters and are home to rarer species of sea-creatures.

There’s usually a form of security keeping people from crossing the barriers (it’s the same for the other kingdoms/lands), so you’d need to have some connections and good reasons in order to travel in or out

In this scenario, you’re a child in our (magicless) world. At an age where it’s still completely normal for you to believe in fairytales and not freak out if you do encounter something weird.

Let’s say your parents are loaded, right? And they own this residence/holiday home that’s submerged underwater. You can see ocean-life through the windows - there’s this one side of the building where the entire top-half of the walls are just reinforced glass, and if there’s a school of fish crossing by you like to run next to it and pretend that you’re swimming with them.

You guys go to this holiday home every vacation, and you spot some different fish this time around! Your parents came to check out what you were so excited about, only to inform you that by its colour and appearance it looks like a moray eel.

It’s twirling around so gracefully! You’re transfixed on the creature’s movements as it swims about a colourful school of fish.

Your parent’s didn’t miss how the eel lagged a bit upon sensing an audience, though, or how its top half was certainly not fish-like at all.

Backstory time: Your parents are actually a couple from Twisted Wonderland! One’s magicless and the other didn’t mind moving to the mortal world (since they can use their magic as long as they don’t get caught.) Other than the not-so-pressuring jobs they have here, they’re also being backed by some officials in twst because they’re acting as a form of surveillance/researchers here, occasionally going back to twst themselves in order to hand in documents and such.

They haven’t told you yet, of course. But they are planning to when you get older.

In the meantime… They suppose letting you have fun with some merfolk won’t be too bad. The residence you’re at is actually in the Coral Sea, nearby the barrier - which is only possible because your parents are who they are.

The next time you see the creature again, it’s brought a friend! You’re absolutely delighted at the sight of two almost-identical eels. It takes a few days for them to get comfortable enough to approach the glass wall, but when they do they’re caught off-guard by how much smaller you seemed compared to them.

You gasp when you realize they’re merfolk and wave shyly at them. One waves back politely while the other gives you a bright grin, further piquing your interest.

Sometimes you guys try to communicate by writing on the glass, or (more often) you find a sheet of paper to write on while they bring their own.

When Floyd gets bored with the conversation you guys play games and sometimes race by running/swimming close to the wall (they observed that you seemed to tire more easily, though. Maybe it’s because of the legs?)

One day they bring another friend along! It’s an octopus-merman this time, and you couldn’t help but admire his tentacles (there were so many! It’s so cool!) and how he swam differently from the twins. You soon learn he’s called Azul and told him his name was real pretty, earning a blush from the boy.

You then continue to say that Jade’s is like a precious stone as well, and that ‘Floyd’ sounded really fun/cool! (Honestly looking back the last one made no sense, but it was good enough for you guys at the time and Floyd was happy with it.)

But after your vacation you had to leave the residence and wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but you promised to meet them again. Your parents listened to your stories and took note of them well, afterwards telling you that it’d be best to keep this a secret from the other children once you got home (and even if you end up blabbing they could just play it off as your wild imagination. You were at a convenient age for that.)

You see the Octatrio a few more times throughout the years (it’s hard to coordinate schedules when you’re young and have no phones) but the visits stop when you’re a little older and get caught up in academics and extracurriculars (you wanted to make your parents proud!)

Then the canon story happens and you find yourself at NRC with this wacky looking cat that can talk. And during the opening ceremony Azul sees you and is shocked into surprise at how familiar you looked - but throughout the chaos you hadn’t noticed him (someone was set on fire and you were just thrown into a random world, so it’s reasonable for you to not notice him yet. You were too panicked and worried at the time.)

But once things settle down a bit Azul is distracted for days and eventually sends Jade to check on you. The eel wasn’t sure why until he got close enough to see you properly, then he gets struck by nostalgia. Is it really you…?

They hold a meeting with Floyd later in the evening and the guy almost rushes to Ramshackle to find you himself

People grow and change, of course, but the three manage to pick out your features and match them to memory (also your little quirks and habits that’ve stuck throughout the years) and finally determine that it is you. The name everyone addressed you with fitted the old nickname you gave them, as well.

At one point you mention their mer-forms and “It’s a shame since Azul’s really cute when-” the guy almost trips in his efforts to rush over and shush you. Don’t expose his secrets like that!!

“It’s true, though?” “Forget about it! Please erase it from your memory!” “Fufu… I’m afraid that’s impossible unless you make a potion, Azul.” “Shrimpy’s right~ Back then you were so squeezable~”

Azul and Jade are quick to adapt to calling you by your full name (unless you told them otherwise) but Floyd will just stick to “Shrimpy” and/or your nickname.

Maybe someone worries for you since you spend a bunch of time with the Octatrio. The person asks if you’re alright and if they’ve been giving you trouble, only for one of them to appear on-cue and join the scene.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst writing #twst scenarios #twst headcanons #twst octavinelle #twst azul #twst jade #twst floyd #twst au #twst reader insert #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #disney twisted wonderland #floyd leech #g/n reader #storm writings #blooms

296 notes · View notes

watchinglikeafangirl · 3 years

Text

Lovely Writer episode 3 - analysis

The episode this week changed everything again. We see more of Nubsib's true colors and we see the two become closer. Nubsib is still pretending but his true personality is also showing here and there, Gene starts having thoughts and is confused how he feels about Nubsib. All in all, this week's episode had a lot of information and was even more fun to watch. Especially the scene, when they film "bad engineer" and the first meeting of the characters ending in a weird embrace filmed in slow motion. It was hilarious...

Honesty and no filter

I don't know if honesty is the right word here but I would say it kind of fits. Even though Nubsib is crossing many lines, Gene at least tells him immediately when he's uncomfortable. Especially in the scenes when his personal space is invaded which he is not used to. He lives with Nubsib but kissing him is a whole different thing. He is someone who is very closeted and only opens up to Nubsib because he learns that life doesn't happen in fantasies and books. But when Nubsib tries to kiss him in the second episode, puts his face aggressively closer to Gene's, Gene pulls away immediately. This shows that even though he might be an introvert who is living in his head very much, he is not shy in the way that he doesn't talk about any emotion. He felt very uncomfortable and told Nubsib immediately also because he feels that Nubsib would listen and back off, which he then did.

In this episode, we get a similar scene. Nubsib pushes Gene on the sofa in a very slow, dominant and erotic way and Gene is kind of okay until Nubsib is too close.

Right before the kiss, he's extremely uncomfortable and says that he is. Nubsib is really concerned and sorry about it and backs off immediately. You could also say about this scene that Gene was not really uncomfortable and just scared of his feelings towards Nubsib but I think, it was just their closeness. They only know each other and live together for three weeks and Gene opened up just yet. It would be out of character if he would have settled into a kiss or even a make-out.

Nubsib is his true self when he comforts Gene who is having a nightmare. There is no sound effect, just some music playing and this scene is very slow and calm. Nothing disturbing the peaceful moment of taking care and there is no rushing.

Defensiveness and hidden feelings

Like I said, and like we all know, Gene is an introvert which becomes very clear when we get to know that he is living alone in a condo that is too big for one person alone. Everything is chaotic and as soon as Nubsib moves in, it's very tidy and clean. But Gene is too scared to admit it. He's too scared to admit that he likes Nubsib's company. Nubsib knows he does and jokes around when he's trying to get a confession from Gene. Gene, completely confused why that kiss is stuck in his head, gets defensive whenever Nubsib flirts and teases him.

This difensiveness becomes more after Aey says "he seems to like you" which confuses Gene even more. He can't stop thinking about it and ends up throwing Nubsib out of his condo because he is too scared to admit it. To himself and to Nubsib. Gene is very inexperienced and insecure about romantic stuff, so he doesn't know if this feeling of tenderness is even real and if Nubsib is really honest with him. There is an awkwardness between them that reminds us that they don't know each other well and Gene would have to get to know Nubsib more in order to be okay with his feelings. Because now, Nubsib still is a total stranger. The insecurity in romantic things and feelings leads Gene to question the meaning behind every word Nubsib said to him and if they were even true. This growing friendship with a stranger and growing romantic feelings for him is too much for Gene and he feels like he won't be able to focus on writing any more. For him it's either living or writing and he chooses writing over everything and feels like he can't think straight.

His feelings which he can't name or distinguish make him get defensive whenever he feels Nubsib is playing around.

Pretending and unawareness

Nubsib gives us all the vibes of fakery in many scenes and we feel there's something breeding under his skin that will show its true colors at some point (and I think very soon). Gene gets that vibe too and that's why things get awkward between them sometimes when both suddenly turn quiet like they don't know what to say to each other which could be because both can't get rid of the picture of their kiss. I mean, both obviously think about it. Nubsib can't even kiss Aey for the scene and Gene can't focus on writing because of it.

Nubsib is the one pretending here. Especially on the sofa. He even says that he learned it "in a workshop" which means the way he is behaving is all inspired and copied from these acting workshops. And that adds depth to his character. He is inexperienced too. He acts like the typical dominant BL character but even says himself that he learned it from the workshop.

That means, he's also insecure but is very good in hiding it. Because he feels like being his true self when it comes to romantic stuff is not enough and that he has to cover those stereotypes in order to appeal as attractive. Especially because Gene wrote this kind of character in the novel himself. So, Nubsib thinks it's the right way to act and is too shy to be his real self which is very sad and thankfully doesn't work out that well when they are on the sofa. Gene gets uncomfortable and I guess a bit frightened by the now very dominant version of Nubsib.

I don't think Nubsib is aware of the effect the moments when he is his true self have on Gene. They are the moments when Gene likes him and falls for him, not the ones when he's pretending. As soon as the pretending stops, the sound effects stop as well and they are talking more natural and real.

Same goes for Gene. What I noticed this episode was that the moment Gene enters, the sound effects start. That means Gene is pretending too but not in such an obvious way and maybe not even on purpose. He backs out of every situation because he sacrificed his life to writing. Writing defines his whole day, social-life, sleeping-routine and health. But I think, deep down he wants to live a bit more. He pretends to be okay with the situation, with how his life is going, but he sees, now that Nubsib moved in, that his way of living covers up all the desires he himself has. Nubsib unlocked something in him, makes him see that life is not only in your condo and especially with other people. Gene sees that now and he'll get sad.

Criticism and jokes

This show criticizes many different aspects. Basically everything of the BL industry is being criticized.

Mostly the charcters don't stand up for themselves when they are feeling uncomfortable. The scene on the sofa was definetely too intense and Gene didn't like it at all. I was already turning my eyes because I was just like 'not one of those scenes' but surprisingly the scene didn't go the way I thought. In many shows this would've gone in a very different direction even though the other charcter is not okay with it. BLs sometimes like to romanticise harrassement.

The writers are mostly female and the target audience is as well. BLs are mostly a fantasy and that's totally fine. It's just boring that every show is basically the same with the same stereotypes and exact same plot. The characters are not in any way real and Gene just copied this idea for "bad engineer". BL novels are created by women for women and that's what is criticised here because there's nothing real about it. In fact Gene wants to focus more on character developments and not NC scenes.

Fanscervice blends over problems the actors might have with each other. Nubsib and Aey don't get along that well but they have to, for the fans. This is a new level of pretending and also very uncomfortable to watch because they have to sacrifice their own values in order to have a job in the first place.

The jokes ... they are just very funny. Having a discussion about product placement for product placement?

Changing in the women's changing rooms because you thought it was 'unisex'?

Nubsib wearing a shirt saying 'eat me'?

There are many more but these are the ones I remember laughing at the most.

Questions

What's the deal with Aey?

Nubsib obviously doesn't like him but why? What did he do?

Is Nubsib jealous? Does Aey have a crush on Gene?

Will Aey become a character we feel sorry for?

What's going on in Tum's life? (I'm concerned)

Ending

This show adds layer after layer and from afar it looks like the typical BL but it's way, way better than that. It's funny, entertaining, realistic and interesting. Basically a writer navigating helplessly through the BL industry and learning that everything needs to be mainstream and is not allowed to be very different from the rest. I like this idea very much because as fans of BLs, we only see the things from the outside and can only assume the stuff that's going on behind the scenes. Here we have people who know what they are talking about whom we can use as a ressource. I found new aspects in this show I didn't even think about being a problem with the BL industry. It's just very interesting.

Preview

The previews always promise some heavy developments and I'm really excited to see jealous Gene and also drunk Gene. What will he do and will he be different? I mean, Nubsib is going to move out but I guess in the end, he won't. I don't know, something will happen because when Gene said "you can stay" he looked very sorry. Perhaps Nubsib shows more of himself and I think we all agree that he's probably messed up. He thinks pretending and manipulation leads to love...

#lovely writer #gene x nubsib #do they have a ship name?#i should've solved my tasks instead of writing this...#nevermind #i like this more

39 notes · View notes

annabethy · 4 years

Text

percabeth zoom calls!

“Babe! Do you know where my charger is?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, adjusting her computer screen so that it was facing her. Percy bangs around in the kitchen some more, for what she suspects is his charger, before he starts cursing, and she suspects he stubbed his toe on the corner of the counter like he’s done five times in the last week.

“Are you okay?” she asks after another minute of loud cursing, poking her head out from his bedroom.

“I’m just getting it all out before the students see.”

Annabeth leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know they made you that mad.” Percy snorts, coming up in front of her to wrap him in her arms. He kisses her forehead before responding. “They make me livid.”

“Couldn’t possibly be as terrible as my kids,” she argues, smiling when his lips catch hers. “My calc kids can’t even do simple algebra.”

“I can’t do simple algebra,” he says, biting her lower lip. “That’s why I teach marine.”

“Marine is the most boring thing you could’ve possibly chosen to teach, but okay.”

“Says the walking calculator.”

Annabeth pinches his butt and he yelps.

“That was a compliment!”

“Make it sound like it next time,” she says, retreating back to his room. “I know that you finished teaching for the day, but I haven’t, so stay quiet.”

“That’s no fun.”

“You want to know what’s no fun? Having your students find out that you’re hooking up with their math teacher.”

Percy grins. “Is that what this is? And here I thought we were actually dating.”

“We won’t be if they find out because I will kill you,” Annabeth threatens without malice. She takes a step back to retreat into his room and he takes a step to follow her, which sends alarm shooting through her mind. “What are you doing?”

Percy has an amused smile plastered to his face, and she knows she’s about to be fighting whatever he decides to say next.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Uh, no you’re not.”

“It’s my bedroom.”

“You shouldn’t have invited me then,” Annabeth says, eyeing him as he keeps following her. “What are you, my shadow?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.”

It’s so disgustingly cheesy but it’s also so disgustingly him that she can’t help but give in as he settles down onto the bed. Percy flips onto his stomach, reaching for the pillow she’d been using the previous night as Annabeth sits at his desk. As he turns his head towards her, his eyes trace over her, and she has to pretend not to notice, as though the red flush of her face didn’t give her away.

Percy’s hand reaches out to squeeze her knee to get her attention, and she feels butterflies in her stomach. They had been together for more than a few months now, and they’d been best friends for quite a while longer, but the way he looks at her never ceased to make her feel this way.

“I’m turning the class on,” she mutters, the corners of her lips twitching up. Percy making a motion to zip his lips, making her snicker.

It’s only a minute before someone’s joining the class and Annabeth’s snickering for an entirely different reason.

“Piper,” Annabeth says, laughing. “What are you wearing?”

“I like to think that I am wearing Gucci,” Piper says, posing over the camera. “What do you think?”

Annabeth has to stifle her laughs at her favorite student. “I think it looks… very original.”

“Why do I feel like that means you think it’s trashy, Ms. Chase? Do you think it’s trashy?”

Annabeth shoves Percy’s head out of frame as he tries to sneak a peek at Piper’s outfit. “To be fair, you are wearing a trash bag.”

“I am insulted that you do not know the difference between a trash bag and a plastic tarp,” Piper says.

Percy grunts as Annabeth shoves him backwards onto the bed again in an attempt to keep him out of camera because she is almost one-thousand percent certain that Piper would recognize him, and considering they were in the middle of a pandemic, Piper would also know that they had been staying together for a while. Annabeth loves Piper, but Piper has zero filter and absolutely will make a comment if she knew.

Eventually, a few more students join, and Annabeth spends time talking to them, trying not to burst out laughing at Percy’s mouthed remarks making fun of her students.

(“Your students are dumb as hell, Annabeth.”

“You are so lucky that we are on mute.”

“How do they even mess up ten plus seven?”

“I literally don’t even know.”)

Annabeth just tries to get through the hour without walking to the kitchen, grabbing a knife, and murdering herself with it. She really loves her calculus students, but someone once said that the smartest people lack the most common sense, and boy, that could not have been more true.

She thinks she’s in the clear. She makes it through the entire lesson without blowing her cover of staying with their teacher, and it’s actually much more exhilarating than she would’ve expected. It was like she was hiding some dirty secret from them as she avoided eye contact behind the camera and tried not to awkwardly jerk around when his hand found its way back onto her knee, delicately tracing shapes.

Annabeth is so close, and just as she’s getting ready to say goodbye, Piper just has to open her big mouth.

“Ms. Chase?”

“Yes, Piper?”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

Annabeth blinks, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. She suddenly feels as though something is about to go very, very wrong. “Depending on what it is, I may or may not answer.”

Over the screen, Piper keeps a straight face, but Annabeth has taught her for over three years, and she recognizes the fire in her eyes.

“Earlier today, I had a class with Mr. Jackson. Did you know I’m in marine science?”

“I did not,” Annabeth says, strained.

“I’m in marine science, and, uh, we had class earlier today over zoom. I was talking to Mr. Jackson for a little bit after.”

“Were you? That’s nice.”

“Yeah, Mr. Jackson is a super nice teacher. I think you’d like him.”

“Do you now?”

“Mh-hm. Anyways, we were talking, and I told him that I liked the painting that was hanging behind him.”

Annabeth freezes.

“It’s the same painting that’s hanging behind you.”

Oh god.

“Do you have something to tell us?” Piper asks.

Annabeth’s ears begin to ring as she realizes that she is inevitably screwed. Of course Piper would have no shame in outing her to the entire class of seniors because that was just how Piper was, but Annabeth should’ve been smart enough not to film in the same spot because she knows her students well enough to know that there is a torment of sex jokes about to come her way.

“You’re looking a little bit red there, Ms. Chase.”

“What exactly are you implying, McLean?”

“Why are you in Mr. Jackson’s apartment?”

Annabeth is so mortified that she cannot move, but Percy seems to be just as shameless as Piper because a second later, he’s hopping into frame, smiling widely at her students.

“Hey, Piper!” Percy chirps.

“Mr. Jackson! So nice to see you! Why is Ms. Chase in your apartment?”

Percy clicks his tongue. “Now, that is a good question, but the most simple answer is that we’re quarantining — is that a word? — together.”

Annabeth sees Leo unmute himself and she immediately drops her face into her hands.

“Well, well, well,” Leo tsks. “I didn’t know we were studying chemistry right now.”

“I will make you do integrals,” Annabeth threatens.

“I’d like to see you try,” Leo has the audacity to say.

Another student unmutes themself and Annabeth recognizes the voice as Reyna’s.

“I am disgusted to find out that my teachers are dating,” Reyna says.

Percy lights up. “Reyna! You haven’t been showing up to my classes!”

“Mr. Jackson! That is because I simply do not care! Also, I would’ve preferred to not know that you two are living together.”

“Me too,” Annabeth mutters.

“Are you dating?” Piper asks. “I’ve always wanted you to date.”

Annabeth’s eye twitches. “I— no, Piper.”

“We’re not?” Percy frowns. “I thought we were.”

“They don’t need to know that,” she hisses.

Percy, always a people pleaser, pointedly kisses her on the cheek. He was always able to brush things off with a laugh, and it’s something that made Annabeth fall in love with him, but right now, it was something she thinks he would be better off without.

“They don’t care,” he dismisses, turning towards the camera. “Yes, we’re dating! We’ve been dating for six months now.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s so cute!” Piper exclaims.

“I want to throw up,” Reyna says.

Leo gives an impish grin. “I felt my relationship senses tingling.”

“Shut up, Leo, no one cares,” Piper says, rolling her eyes. “Ms. Chase! I’m so happy for you! You guys should get married.”

“Way to jump the gun, Piper,” Percy says. “Give us another six months at least.”

“Also, now that we know you two are staying together — we aren’t stupid. We know what adults do when they’re alone, so just try to keep that off camera, ‘kay?”

Annabeth is actually going to drop down to the ground and cry in about two seconds. Piper wasn’t particularly wrong in her assumptions, but Annabeth did not need her students to know about her personal life in this much detail!

“Don’t think we don’t know about what you do when you’re alone with Jason,” Percy teases, and Annabeth actually chokes on air.

“But we’re not teachers—”

“Okay!” Annabeth interrupts, ready for this to be over. The can see the rest of her students screaming in chat, and she does not want to be here to witness this any longer. “I’m going to end this call now. Please never speak of this again.”

“I will bring this up tomorrow!” Piper says cheerfully, waving at them. “I—”

Annabeth clicks off the screen immediately, and the room goes silent.

She stays there with her head buried in her hands for a while, Percy’s hand still running up and down her back. His fingers curl as he scratches her skin languidly, waiting for her to get over her initial embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” Annabeth mumbles into her hands. “That was awful.”

“It wasn’t as bad as you think it was,” he assures.

“They’re never going to let us live this down.”

“They didn’t care,” Percy says, holding back a snicker. “At least now we can kiss in front of them.”

“You’re never getting any more kisses from me,” Annabeth says, standing up from the chair to try and walk the humiliation away.

Percy grabs her wrist, tugging until she looks him in the eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Annabeth is so flushed that she wants to die, and her students now know about her current living status and have their own conclusions as to what they do when they’re alone, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel incredible.

She tilts her head as she looks at him and he does the same. There’s a fire in his eyes as he challenges her.

“I’m not going to kiss you right now if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Percy bites his lower lip, whole body shaking with laughter. “You so sure?”

Annabeth takes a step back as Percy takes one forwards. She finds herself cornered against the bed with nowhere to go. She turns back to face Percy, and she only has one second to prepare before he’s grabbing her and falling onto the bed beside her.

“Percy,” she says, jerking around when he started tickling her. “This isn’t — funny!”

Percy kisses her neck, fingers moving her shirt up slightly to grip her sides. “I think it’s hilarious. Your students found out you have a boyfriend. So what? You’re human.”

“Stop,” she says, snorting and jerking again as he squeezes and palms her stomach.

“Kiss me.”

Percy’s fingers stop moving along her skin as he hovers over her, looking deeply into her eyes. She feels so warm and loved, laying here with her best friend, and he’s the complete opposite of her, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s for moments like this, to balance her out.

And as she kisses him, she thinks that she can complain about her invasive students and cursed zoom calls later because the only thing that matters right now is making sure he keeps kissing her like she’s the only thing in the world.

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #percy and annabeth #my writing #teacher au

163 notes · View notes