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heli0s-writes · 7 months

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forget your perfect offering*

summary: Captain America hasn’t been home in years and it’s turned him into something a little lost, a little broken.

a/n: Hi hi!! Guess who's back on the Nomad Steve angst/smut train after 5 months??? 3k words. Please stop reading if you're not 18+ This is very Clumsy adjacent.

Captain America hasn’t been home in years and it’s turned him into something a little lost, a little broken. Going dark on the United States government when it’s put a price on your head will do that, he supposes. He’s even picked up a new habit of flinching at shadows despite maneuvering in them for eternity.

Not eternity, but he’s dramatic and full throttle. Never once learned that some things can be half-measures, can be compromised on. He’s got his handful of soldiers—friends— and he can’t forget that they’re friends because soldiers are pawns and friends are crucial.

Back then, he was just a newly reanimated statuette, a votive figurine to justice rendered flesh and bone and so damn brittle. And how could he believe it would last? The entire thing fell apart within a few years—a team scattered to pieces; an entire nation’s vision discarded on the side of the road.

A lot of Americans are angry with him for that, and most days he tries not to be angry at himself, which is stupid according to you and Sam and Nat. But being angry at propaganda and history and circumstances is too intangible to do much with, so at least being angry with himself means he can kneel into a fight, leave too little in the tank for the trip back, find a way to be punished for his transgressions.

He’d always been reckless, but it’s becoming a flag much to red to ignore.

You tell him he’s got a death wish. Plain and simple: keep it up and you’ll die, and nothing more, leaving the jet ride in silence, everyone averting their eyes. But he just wipes the blood out of his mouth and says, “Hasn’t seemed to work out for me yet.”

Back at the house—the house, not his house, or anybody’s house, certainly not a home in its unremarkable exterior, interior, living spaces cobbled together with rickety, mismatched furniture and chipped ceramic kitchenware—he returns to his book. Sinks himself into the reading nook and opens it up to a page he’s been pretending to pay attention to.

Natasha showers first, Sam crashes into his bed face-down, and you linger by the old T.V., poking at the adjacent radio.

“Hey, death boy.”

He looks up, startled. “Death boy?”

“Yeah,” you grin, glancing over your shoulder. “Death boy. Your new superhero name.”

You say it breezily, eyes half-mast because it’s been a real dog-shit kind of day and even Steve can hardly focus.

Sam’s dead to the world and Nat’s going on 30 minutes under water, so it’s a fair estimate to say that it’s to the point where he can feel how powered-down his brain is, and that if he tries to speak more than three phrases at a time, it’ll hardly make any damn sense. Or, inevitably, make matters worse.

He tries for controlled, comes out not so much. “It’s a little morbid, don’t you think?”

You gasp, scandalized. “Silly me, you haven’t been morbid at all recently. Gosh, it’s not like you were trying to get gutted—he was swinging so wide and slow, how could I think you’d manage dodging in time?” You clasp your hands over your mouth dramatically, “How could I suggest—”

“That’s enough.” Steve pinches his nose-bridge with one hand and closes the book with the other. He’s going to drown himself in the bathtub when Natasha’s finished—go drama—but he’s grinning a little bit, not dumb enough to hide when he’s been caught out.

You punch a button on the radio, tune it to a station that’s only slightly screeching with interference. There’s a discernible piano melody but he doesn’t know the song. You tap along, feeling out the rhythm, and then you cast your eyes to the reading nook he’s crushed into before pointing at the middle of the floor.

For all his miserable ruminating he always forgets to account for you at the end of the day, standing there and waiting for him like he’s got any choice. He declares all sorts of bullshit about how making the right decision can feel like no decision at all when it’s inherently justified; reason should feel like reflex, ethics an extension. But lately, the only reflex he’s felt is closer to vanishing.

He’s disappearing from view a little more each night, reduced to a crumbling idol of an endangered faith because humanity’s stopped believing in him and part of him is following the same course. He’s become an old relic chipped away in the flow of time, and some days he’d rather just be good and gone.

Keep it up and you’ll die.

Part of him already has. Part of him’s already in the ground.

“Come on,” you say with a surprising amount of patience, eyes soft and hand extended. “Are you gonna get up or am I gonna have to drag your ass again?”

The song is plunking away, cutting in and out intermittently, notes quivering on scratches of static. Nat’s started to dry her hair, the sound like a tornado alarm trapped in a bathroom but it’s persistent, fighting the wailing blow-dryer for an audience. She’s probably freezing cold because the house’s water heater is shoddy at best and Sam can fix that but he’s been exhausted lately and no one’s going to complain because they’ve never complained about their situation-- not once.

He bites down, frowns a little deeper, but then he’s on his feet, giving chase like you could take him somewhere whole and unbroken. Somewhere he’s been craving for. His hands around your waist are careful, resting his chin on top of your head as you nuzzle in.

He asks through gritted teeth, “Listening for a heartbeat?”

“I know where your heart is.”

He’s so goddamn maudlin, can’t stop the bitterness from lashing out. “Where’s that?”

“With us, death boy. With me.”

He makes a noncommittal sound, dismissive and very, very rude of him, but he’s on a roll and won’t be appeased. You lazily read the lines of his face with stunned eyes, then touch your nose to his bearded chin as you lean up.

You stroke his scalp, spinning the feathery ends of his long hair. “You want to be hurt so bad, don’t you?” Your nails rake down the length of his strong neck. “Is that what you’re used to? Is it more comfortable that way?”

“Enough,” he murmurs faintly, but makes no move to push you away, only stepping in time, rocking along. When your hand tightens into a fist to pull at him, he bites down, shuts his eyes. You do it again, harder, and then let go, letting your fingers spread at the base of his skull, cradling it like a child.

“You want to be beaten within an inch of your life, want to be pried open so you can check if you’re still capable of dying.” Cold words, but your breath is hot, and he’s starting to feel it—that telltale shiver at the base of his spine at the way you won’t break eye contact.

“I know, I know,” you coo, “it hasn’t happened yet.” You move away, smiling big and dark and glistening with promise. “But listen, Steve, all you have to do is ask.”

He can’t tell what expression he’s making, only that your pupils open to swallow him. You’re staring at him, not through him. Taking in his flesh and the warm blood cascading down his face.

The night is taking its toll, it seems. Collecting on long, hard hours, making the both of you reckless.

He thinks about months ago, and the complication of ethics in the way.

Not sleeping with teammates, not losing the fucking plot no matter how much he craved losing it for a couple of hours. There were several weeks before it went sideways, before Bucharest and the Accords, where he spent doing nothing but dedicating himself to daydreaming. He sank into the quiver of his own body as he imagined you and everything he wanted to know by touch.

There were dances, like this. Swaying back and forth in Sam’s backyard and gala celebrations, onlookers getting a few ideas about what his eyes were communicating when he’d trace the curve of your shoulders or the delicate insides of your wrists. How everyone else might follow Captain America into the jaws of death but he’d follow only you, headlong, beyond, and into the goddamn afterlife if you asked him.

But there was a line he couldn’t cross. A soft, tangerine horizon much too far out of his reach when the dark was at his back, beating him to the ground. Making him flinch from warmth because entanglement was too complicated and love was too kind.

Tony asked him what it felt like to fuck up so astronomically. Nat only clucked her tongue, more disappointment in a single sound than Steve had heard from many grand lectures.

Because you would have been vibrant and glorious, damn it. You would have giggled— giggled— when you made love, crooned his name like a songbird and touched him everywhere, all at once. You would have kissed fire back into him, licked your way into the center of that votive figurine and traced his broken heart. You would have excavated him, clawed him out clean, led him into the light.

So, he knows. He knew then, knows now, knows for the rest of his days when he’s let a beautiful thing slip through his fingers.

But sometimes, this happens and his hands feel like they’ve still held on despite his attempts. Sometimes you brush his knuckles, smile at him small and sweet and come into his makeshift room, sit on the side of his bed and exist side by side. Sometimes there wouldn’t even be conversation.

But when you linger by the door, gaze slowly raking down the length of his body and his throat, his mouth, all ten of his fingertips—god, what he wouldn’t give then, to take you to the floor and declare fuck it.

Fuck ethics and fuck his entire life, if needed, because there was only you, only what he’d been needing for ages, only that brilliant and terrifying afterlife awaiting him.

The reflex, then, is not to disappear anymore, but to kneel in.

You say, both hands come to rest around his throat— because you’ve seen him now, seen him the entire time, “If you want it that much, Steve, I can give it to you. A hundred tiny deaths, so sweet and good, until it hurts so bad you really do feel like you’re dying.”

He gulps, Adam’s apple catching each of your fingers on the way up and back down. Says, “Yeah,” before he even registers it. He blurts, going cold and hot and shell-shocked, “I’d let you do anything you want.”

Just then, the bathroom door clatters open and Natasha steps out, towel wrapped around her as she pads across the living space toward her room.

She looks from you to Steve, briefly studying the single foot of distance between your faces, the forgotten music, the way he can’t seem to keep his breathing in order.

The way you’ve got his throat in your hands.

She doesn’t even stop as she passes by, carding her fingers through her hair for a final act of detangling. “Wilson sleeps heavy,” she yawns, which implies, I don’t, so keep whatever the hell it is you two are doing down.

Then she’s gone with only pressure left in her wake. Only his breath fighting with his lungs, his belly tight and hot and his flavorless mouth so fucking starved for yours.

You raise a judgmental eyebrow after he does nothing for a beat too long, too lost in potential backpedaling to advance the plot. “That’s not asking, Steve.”

He’s stupid, dizzy, like he’s been dropped on his head, but not that stupid. He can’t keep his eyes off your mouth. Doesn’t even know if he says it, but tries anyway, “Will you please,” and the rest goes out the window. You lean in. You kiss him better than he could ever have imagined.

He’s living the teenage years he never had.

You kiss him like you’ve got all the time in the world—like it isn’t past four in the morning and the both of you are one silent minute away from slipping into unconsciousness. You kiss lazy and slow and sublime. You press a thumb at the corner of his mouth, touch inside of him, and he wants to do it back. But he wants it right.

“This,” he starts, almost whimpering when you run your teeth beneath his ear, molding your body to his, the two of you staggering into the wall and the end table and poor Natasha across the house must be digging up her earplugs. “I’m not good with—casual—”

“Yeah, you don’t think I know that?” You only pause for enough air to hassle him before taking his hands, your own so small over them, so much power over him, and place them on your waist. “You don’t think I know you’re an all-in kind of guy?”

Of course, you know. Of course, anyone who’s ever heard of Steven Grant Rogers can figure it out. It’s always going to be full throttle for him. Casual isn’t a word that exists in his dictionary, and he won’t compromise on that. He couldn’t do this any other way because now he wants to do it all—to feel you, inside out, across time and the universe and infinity.

He shucks off your clothes, doesn’t mind the grit of the day on your skin, wants it even, to know what you’re like every hour of every day. He tears off his own tac gear, can’t keep his mouth off yours for even a second as he stumbles across the floor.

When he reaches the bed, you climb on top, warm between your legs and so perfect over his thigh. He’s rocking his hips against yours, mouthing at your breasts, grabbing your ass and waist and snarling into your neck like an animal. Lazy and slow twists into frantic and desperate, him throbbing and throbbing against your skin.

He leans back, takes you down with him, bra strap limp at your elbows, panties to the side and he wedges back between the space of his thigh and your sex. He wants—wants.

“You’re warm,” he breathes.

When he pulls out, there’s a sloppy noise following your moan and he rubs his fingers together, awed at the glistening web slipping down to his palm.

One finger becomes two, the coat of slick up to his knuckles and he’s using too much tongue when he kisses you but you don’t mind that at all.

He’s not any kind of virgin but he really feels like one. In the sense that he’s turned on by everything. Too much stimulation. On his skin, in his brain, he’s immersed in one second while predicting the next, seeing the possible ways it could go. Too much pent-up desire swells up the length of his cock as he palms and presses it against the underside of your thigh for contact. His chest is heaving, breath stuttery, eyes wild and unfocused.

You grab his face, pull him away from your collar. You’re only a slight mess, but Christ, what a sight. He must be about fifty times worse because you’re grinning wide, looking him up and down as he arches forward to get you back.

You tut, “If I really wanted to kill you,” you say, “I’d leave you right now.”

“Please don’t,” he manages hoarsely, the fire in his belly lashing out.

“Because I’m so nice.”

“Yes.” And suddenly, his sunny face turns overcast, all the joyful cacophony from before muting. “Yes, you are.”

“Steve,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead with your hands for something to do with them.

He hauls himself up on his elbows, starting to feel upset.

You lean back on your palms, head lolling between your shoulder blades, aggrieved.

“Sorry,” he recants.

“Steve.”

He can’t make eye contact, but you don’t ask him to again, only touching his jaw with a finger and erasing the last few minutes with a nuzzle of your nose to his, like saying don’t worry about it, it’s okay.

Then, more kissing, more of that touch he dreamed about and he wants to kick his past self for missing it, for even daring to fantasize when the real thing is so much more.

The night melts away, each hour lasting a blink or an eternity—he can’t be bothered by it now. He figures the sun’s coming up, though, because there’s that haze of early morning past the gauzy, frayed curtain.

Your palms are on his chest, pawing at him for leverage each time you grind down, each time you swallow him back inside of you. You push, like an act of resuscitation— one, two, one, two— a rhythmic, electric, life-giving staccato beat that has him gasping for air, has him keening and groaning without any thought to how loud he might be.

And, fuck it, fuck it all. He is, admittedly, loud.

Sorry, Nat, he winces mentally before his brain’s wiped clear of all thought.

There’s nothing but you, and you, and you.

And that poor, broken heart inside of him, crushed to fine powder, being reworked into brilliance.

He lies there afterwards, gazing into the ceiling as he breathes back down to calm. There’s the thrall of exhaustion behind his eyes but it’s being overridden by a terrible, traitorous voice that’s telling him how he can’t seem to stop fucking up.

He can’t breathe suddenly, the room collapsing into a pinhole, darkness threatening the edges of his sight.

And then you say, because you always know what to say, “It’s okay to be a little broken,” you stroke his chest. “Baby, that’s how the light gets in.”

And the morning is breaking through fully now, streaks of it clearing up his eyes, cutting him to pieces beneath you.

“Yes,” he agrees and meets you for another lengthy kiss, every shrapnel inch of him raw and searing hot. All his exposed parts—the grief and agony and self-hatred—turned to gold. You touch his dark edges with your fingertips. You trace a new dawn’s light in his hair.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut

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mymanyfandomramblings · 5 months

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Mabel's perspective in Sock Opera is equally, if not more sympathetic than Dipper's: An Essay

Most people generally wouldn't consider Mabel to have a terribly sympathetic plotline in Sock Opera, even those of us who don't necessarily feel that she's horribly selfish. I think that's because, from a narrative perspective, her plotline is (as it so often is) shafted in favour of Dipper's, and from a viewer's perspective, Dipper's makes more sense. We, as viewers want to know who the author is. We, as viewers, know that Gabe is inevitably going to turn out to be some variety of impossible, and we know that the Author of the Journals is a major mystery. However, from Mabel's perspective, none of this is true, because she doesn't have the luxury of knowing she is in a TV show. Even if you take out Gabe, her perspective still makes perfect sense.

At the beginning of summer, Dipper found this journal, and Mabel has generally been pretty happy to go along with his adventures as the journal has led them, but it's clear she doesn't have the same degree of fascination with it. Maybe she may have been a little intrigued by who the Author is, she's probably a bit curious, but not to the same extent. By the time of Sock Opera, she's probably reasonably ready for the Journal fixation to be over, considering that they nearly all got killed by a shapeshifter trying to find the author. She knows that trying to investigate the author is dangerous--Stan warned them away from the supernatural, they've all nearly died multiple times, but Dipper cannot be stopped. And now Dipper has decided to spend hours and hours and hours, forgoing sleep, sitting in front of a screen, typing in passwords. The fact that Mabel tries to drag him away from it is a good thing--anyone with a relative who spends excessive amounts of time in front of a computer can tell you that. Generally, having someone close to you become deeply fixated to the point of obsession with anything can be challenging, however in Mabel's case, Dipper has become obsessed to the point of prioritising getting into the laptop above anything, and this isn't just a regular hyperfixation: this is a hyperfixation that has nearly gotten them both (plus their loved ones) nearly killed multiple times in the last few weeks. It's absolutely the responsible, good thing for Mabel to do to not enable that behaviour.

And then if you add the puppet show back into the equation, then yes, it is kind of ridiculous of Mabel to put on a whole show of that kind of magnitude just for a boy (regardless of whether the boy deserves it), however, as viewers we must accept that this is, in fact, thoroughly within character for Mabel, who is kind of ridiculous. Any kind of production of that size is a huge commitment, especially if you've given yourself a week to work, and I'm not remotely bothered by the fact that Mabel has to get everyone involved on this. And to Mabel's credit, she does try to help Dipper as soon as he appears to her in puppet form, she just isn't immediately willing to stop the show. Back in high school, my drama class did a play that I mostly wrote, mostly managed and also had a small acting role in (yes, I was an overachiever in drama), and let me tell you, it would have taken a lot to have gotten me to call off the show halfway through, much less publicly sabotage it. A demon threatening the lives of one of my siblings? Probably yes. That probably would have done it. And Mabel does allow the thing that she poured blood, sweat and tears into to go literally up in flames in front of everyone, once she realises that's what she has to do (and personally, I don't think that there's anything wrong with not immediately being willing to drop everything for this. It's not like Dipper doesn't dig in his heels about doing what's best until the very last possible second). I don't know why people insist it's not 'technically a sacrifice', because while, yes, obviously Dipper's life was more important, and she 100% made the right choice, it's not easy to wreck something you worked hard on in front of people.

All this is to say that although it's easy to become irritated at Mabel during this episode because she's hindering Dipper's ability to figure out who the author is, it's also very easy not to realise that she has a thoroughly reasonable perspective, simply because the narrative puts greater emphasis and attention of Dipper's perspective.

#gravity falls #mabel pines #dipper pines #gravity falls meta #character analysis #my ramblings

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ladyluscinia · 1 year

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The thing about S14/S15 deancrit is like...

Ok, so as a deangirl I wholeheartedly believe Dean should have faced being wrong more, both because it would have made a better story and because it probably would have made Dean healthier and happier in the long run. Like Supernatural as it stands is not exactly great for him. The short term Dean suffering of one of his decisions blowing up in his face and a bunch of fighting with Sam/Cas/etc. would have been well worth actually addressing something like his abandonment issues that cause the deantransgressions in a way that would fundamentally matter. The writers contorting to make him "right" - or at least make any serious threat of consequences to his relationships or internal justifications fade away to preserve the status quo - effectively just denied a deeply traumatized character most opportunities for positive character growth. They boiled him in worse and worse dropped conflicts, and it sucks! *Holds up a pic of S1 Dean next to S14 Dean's Abraham moment* Look what they did to my boy! 😭

But at the same time, I can't really get - in the serious Dean character study sense - invested in the Jack arc / divorce arc as some kind of straw breaking the camel's back because, like, that ship sailed a long time ago.

Berens and Dabb's eleventh hour vague gesture toward nebulous "anger issues" isn't fixing Supernatural's insane protagonist syndrome, even before it fizzles back to status quo without delving into the underlying issues. There's nothing meaningfully indicating that this time Dean was particularly deserving of scorn / needed to face the music, other than the lack of following seasons to confirm intent to forget about this one. The main real drive to S14/S15 deancrit is that it was all up there in worst transgressions, and that's just because of escalation. It's the final season and they are pulling out their last cards to shock us for drama. Why not boil him to the point of trying to kill a kid twice??? (These fucking writers... 😤)

Like I don't think adding consequences to Supernatural would have made the divorce arc meaningfully better by coming down hard on Dean's relationship with Cas and Jack? I think adding consequences to Supernatural would have pushed back on Dean's destructive behavior years before Jack was even born, and inevitably eliminated the entire worsening deantransgression pattern (and the Jack-prompted divorce arc along with it). Too much has already been unrealistically swept under the rug at this point. Flipping the consequences switch only for S14/S15 would just be nonsensical.

I reject Dean would have chosen to be the worst version of himself, and recognize he only managed it somewhat because the authorgod was guiding him down all the right turns and constantly sweeping away anything that might make him question where he was going. S14/S15 is a little late to be getting mad at him for being so boiled, you know? Like what is expecting him to realize he should get out of the pot now going to do?

#spn #i don't get like. super offended by final seasons deancrit because they *did* boil my boy #but it's the whole water off the duck thing. it just doesn't stick #also in the same vein any character in S15 realizing things are fucked up requires like. a bolt of divine inspiration #they ALL got boiled in late seasons #S14 #S15 #dean #character arcs #jack kline #dabb era #spn meta #< sort of??? more like an explanation why i don't care as much about some of the meta maybe?#ladyluscinia

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cor-regnum · 1 year

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KH4(ish) wants and hopes

The following are just things I want and hope for in the future of KH and maybe others want and hope for similar and if not that's super valid.

More realistic wants

Sora to start unpacking all of his trauma This sweet baby boy has been through so much since the beginning of the franchise, but between back-to-back endless drama and constantly putting his own feelings aside for the sake of his friends, along with Donald and Goofy unintentionally instilling toxic positivity into him, he hasn't had ANY time to process any of it. Not to mention all the memories that have been buried down, during both CoM and even towards the end of KH3. He still genuinely believes that without his friends he's weak, so now that he's forced into Quadratum away from everyone, he'll get the chance to see how incorrect that is, which would then lead to him questioning more of his beliefs. I would say he'd see the truth in what Riku said to him before his sacrifice at the tear in KH3, but those are some of the memories he's lost. Essentially, what CoM was for Riku's growth, I want KH4 to be for Sora.

X-blade drama Sora was bequeathed the X-blade, his first formal bequeathment and now an actual keyblade of his own that wasn't meant for someone else. Now that it's in an "other side" I want to see literally any sufficient drama to happen involving the x-blade with Sora. Even if it's just him angsting over having it.

Potential ally Luxord At this point, it's all but confirmed that at the end of Re:Mind, Luxord's recompleted self is the one driving Yozora in the car. Now... I'll freely admit I just love Luxord and wanna see more of him. But knowing that he's also in Quadratum, and given his cryptic words upon his defeat in KH3, I don't think it's out of the question for him to help Sora out at some point. Considering Yozora's behavior thus far, I could see Luxord's recompleted self being another antagonistic force early on, turned ally.

Elrena and Lauriam reconnecting with Ven, and Namine is there Now that Larxene and Marluxia are recompleted, and given that Lauriam and Ven were vaguely close to each other in a coworker sense in Ux, I want them involved in bringing Ven's memories back. Naturally with Namine's help. I want Elrena to STILL be the girl that isn't overly sweet, since she's literally the only one, because that's something I love about her. But I also want them to give her stuff to do that isn't completely tied to Lauriam. Maybe even make it so Ven's memories hold some kind of key involving the foretellers so the drama on "this" side can continue to some degree without Sora.

More prevalent Namine Honestly, considering how strongly linked her powers have been to Sora, it seems silly that she hasn't been utilized in the search for him, as far as we know. Plus I'm sure she has more capabilities beyond that. Not to mention the amount of times Nomura has reiterated that the "Thank Namine" plotline is still incomplete. So I just need her to come back to being a primary character. I don't want her to be passive. And I JUST WANT HER TO BE HAPPY, OKAY!? She really deserves it.

Less Realistic Wants

Kairi growth game From the first game, Kairi has made it clear how averse to change she is, and that has been the biggest constant in what little character she's been given. My own belief is that's the reason she hyperfixates on Sora so much. Not because it's a crush, but just because holding onto this idea of how close they were before all the adventures started is easier than moving on and accepting all the changes for her. And honestly, she deserves better than that. So, this would ideally be an entire non-numbered game, but as part of her training under Aqua, I want her, Xion, and Namine (balanced, strength, and magic) to do their own journey through Disney worlds where a recurring theme in each world is accepting that change is inevitable and that it's okay. Along with varying bits to further Xion and Namine's own stories. And like how KH3 had moments where it would turn to Riku's perspective and let him be playable, Aqua would have that in this game. Aqua's side would be more about figuring things out about the foretellers. During these adventures, Kairi being a Princess of Heart would come back into play over the course of the story and give her more unique abilities, considering she's the only one of those princesses with a keyblade. After all that journeying, Aqua's Angels would end up actually helping Lea and Isa find that mysterious girl (Skuld) and it would not only be a step toward furthering the foreteller plot, but it would be a "oh, another person that's going to make things interesting for Ven when they meet" moment, given Ux.

Sora growth (cont'd) Okay, here's where I know I'll lose some people's interests... So, a lot of Riku's growth early on was accepting just how important Sora is to him and coming to grips with his jealousy and feelings. And he deserves major props for going through that. Sora, alongside canonically bisexual icon Strelitzia, is going to learn to admit similar things with regards to Riku. I don't think he's jealous of Riku, but he sure does care about him a lot. More than I think he realizes that would be on par with how much Riku cares for him. Instead of facing jealousy, though, while unpacking all of his traumas, he's finally going to have to come to grips with everything Riku did in KH1. Because he literally has not done that. I don't think it's going to be some over-dramatic angsty thing, I think it'll be more of a "Yeah... what he did really was messed up and I still don't know why. When I see him I'll wanna talk about it, but at least I know he's not like that anymore so that we can talk about it." And yes, I do firmly believe Soriku is going to be one of the ultimate plot points of the series and I'm not going to tackle why that is here. I just feel like Strelitzia is going to be pushing them together when she sees them.

I do have more wants, but I can't really think of how to expand on them, so I guess I'll just briefly list them here:

Either confirmation or further evidence to the necklace theory, ideally intertwined with the "Thank Namine" plotline.

Tied to above, I'd love if somehow the necklace is an emblem of the "Child of Destiny" brought up in Dark Road.

Kairi and Lea develop a friendly rivalry, constantly motivating each other to be better.

I do NOT want Hayner, Pence, and Olette to get keyblades and I'll honestly be super annoyed if they do. In my mind, it would be as foolish as giving Donald and Goofy keyblades, because these three have other strengths I'd love to see expanded upon.

Terra gets another Mark of Mastery exam, probably alongside any other characters that want it, but I'd want it from his perspective so we see him tackle more of his internal struggle with darkness and his time serving Xehanort.

Aqua with PTSD from her time in the Realm of Darkness. We already saw a glimpse of it in Re:Mind and I don't want it to get dropped.

Strelitzia actually fights and maybe even playable Strelitzia segments. We never actually saw her in combat in Ux, just saw her with her keyblade out. I can easily see her filling a similar role to Aerith in FFVIIR.

Ava. ...I just want something with Ava. Confirmation that she was Kairi's grandma, a mention of where she is now, anything. Literally I just want to know what's going on with her. Because unless she was Kairi's grandma, Luxu was the last one to see her, and that was FOREVER ago.

While Mickey's in Scala ad Caelum, there is confirmation that Riku, and possibly Kairi, originate from Scala ad Caelum. Or at least in Riku's case that his family originated from there, which leads to...

Riku is Ephemer's descendent, which I'm not going to go super into, but it would feed further into the necklace theory and would explain a LOT about him.

Ven and Roxas interactions... more than just a head nod at each other, please!

Xion and Namine friendship and I WANT TO SEE THEM BOTH HAPPY. Tie this into my Kairi growth game!

Utada makes another song based on Sora and Riku. We have confirmation Sanctuary/Passion is about them and their reunion in KH2, and analyzing the lyrics to Chikai/Don't Think Twice fits more with them than anyone else. So, more, please!

And then there's things I'd want from Missing Link, but that doesn't fit in here and I don't have enough wants to justify making a list...

I may reblog myself with more wants down the line.

#kingdom hearts #kh theory

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

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I am in love with your Wish Me Away Au. Beautiful, truly. Few wonderings and questions. What are your headcanons for if/when Mari starts dating / how does the batfam react? How does little Mari react to Bruce and Selina getting married? And how does Talia react to Mari being there and "softening" her "son"? I ask that last one because I have this headcanon of Talia always knowing what is going on with her "son". I keep putting those quotes around it because she is no mother. Again the idea as a whole is beautiful and I love it.

Awwwwww thank you ☺

Headcanons For When Marietta Starts Dating:

• Nobody, and I mean nobody, was ready for her to start dating or just take an interest in anyone. The boys were dreading the day and had pushed that inevitable knowledge that she would maybe one day want to be romantically involved with someone out of their minds. Who was dreading this day more? Marietta or Bruce? The world may never know.

Marietta knows just how overprotective her family can be but she also knows if she tried to secretly date anyone, it wouldn't be a secret for long.

Bruce dreaded the day because he knew how protective he was, he knew how protective the family was, he didn't want to be the stereotypical overprotective dad when their daughter starts dating but he can feel the transformation happening as we speak.

• Tim legit has an Application to Date My Sister form that he carries around. If someone flirts with Marietta he slaps on of those on the person with a dead serious face.....he..he uh...he didn't think people would actually fill out and send in the forms.

• Dick is overprotective but he is ready to be his baby sister's wingman if he can. Has made the "My sister is single and ready to mingle, unless you're human trash" announcement in public too many times to count.

• Jason will point out potential suitors for Marietta and just look at her and say. "I'll fight em. If they can last 5 secs they have my approval to approach you." Mari just smacks him everytime.

• Damian is arguably the most protective of Marietta, if he sees someone flirting with her he does pull out and point his katana at said person. He says things along the line of, "You think you are good enough for her?" And Marietta will absolutely duel her brother for embarrassing her.

Damian pointing his katana at people interested in his sister happens so often that buzzfeed has made a list of his Top 10 moments.

• Babs will do an in depth background check on whoever Marietta is talking to and if she finds something she doesn't like she tells Marietta ever bad or embarrassing thing said person has done in their life.

• Cass, she doesn't even have to do anything ridiculous like her brothers, when her and Marietta go out no one approaches because really? How can you dare go up to these angels and disturb their peace? You monster?

• Duke really thinks his brothers are too much so he will take Marietta out when she wants to run some errands but doesn't want any drama. If she talks to someone go her! But if it's someone he gets a bad feeling about he will absolutely send a group message with their location and a picture of the person.

• Alfred, he doesn't do anything because he knows Marietta can take care of herself and well if anyone does hurt her well he has his shotguns and really this is Gotham, people die from mysterious means all the time.

• Bruce will give you the most intimidating interview of your life if you are interested in his baby girl. One time he was grilling this boy so hard and Bruce was having fun so he thought he'd trip the boy up with asking what his social security number was and the boy, terrified as he is, yelled his social security number at Bruce Wayne. The boy was so mortified. Bruce was laughing his ass off on the inside.

Bonus Auntie Harley: Harley absolutely wingmans for Marietta happily, but if she sees behavior she doesn't like she will not hesitate to drop kick a teenager.

How does Marietta react to Bruce and Selina getting married?

She is absolutely ecstatic! She was already calling Selina maman, now it's official! They ask her to be the flower girl. Damian is the ring bearer.

How does Talia react to Mari?

She really does start to question if Bruce has a problem when she sees the toddler. Then she sees Damian with the little one and she sees the soft look on his face and it does something to her heart. Damian would never understand, but Talia does love her son but she chose work above her heart. So no matter what Damian thinks is good for him she knows better, she knows his destiny.

So seeing him soften anymore than he already has is complicated. A small part of her is proud, but the bigger part of her curses the Bat and his family for "ruining" her son. Obviously this is the little one's fault and what better way to cure her son than by taking the problem out of the way?

It doesn't go as she plans needless to say.

#wish me away ask #goggles ask #goggles answers #goggles answer #maribat #mldccrossover #mldccrossover batfam

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kusagrasskusa · 3 years

Text

Yandere! Itachi X Reader Headcannons

The reader is precieved as a normal civilization rather than a ninja.

ALSO I learned how to do the "read more" thing on my phone and now I'm happy uvu- and to any friends that read this, I'm so sorry but I've never been so dedicated to a fandom in a long time lol. I might make a oneshot later for this, too, and I do, you should see a link under this paragraph somewhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🖤 Itachi is a mature and collected person, so I'd think it'd be unlikely for him to just grow obsessed at once. Itachi would have to come across Y/N many times before releasing he's in love.

🖤 The way he'd meet Y/N would be when he'd be scouting an area for a particular enemy. He'd happen to come across her, who interacted with him a little but nothing interesting happened. Overtime, the two would see each other here and there, until eventually everyday.

🖤 When his enemy he was looking for had been eliminated, he said his goodbyes to Y/N before leaving. He expected to move on, but his mind would wonder back to her no matter how hard he tried.

🖤 Eventually, Itachi would see Y/N whenever he had free time. He'd make room in his day to spend hours together; they'd go out to eat, participate in festivals, talk, and more.

🖤 On Y/N's side, it didn't take long before she started to feel romantic interest. Afterall, Itachi was calm, collected, smart, strong, fun to be around, and seemed genuinely interested in her. She was definitely in love before he was.

🖤 Around the time Itachi would visit the Leaf Village to find Naruto, he strangely started to worry a lot about Y/N learning about who he was and fear him. He couldn't help but want to shield her from the truth, and if the people around them learned that the man Y/N was with was wanted, it would end bad for them.

🖤 Itachi was inevitably worrying a little too much about the possibility of her finding out. He went to see her and did his best to distract her from any gossip or drama whatsoever to ensure she'd never hear about the Akatsuki. His time spent with her increased from a few hours to half the day.

🖤 Itachi wouldn't ever want to kidnap or drag people into his life. He hates killing, he hates being "evil", he hates everything about his dark lifestyle. The decision to either abandon someone he began to care for or to take her away was a very hard one.

🖤 Itachi realized something in the process of thinking of a solution. He loved Y/N; he loved her to the point where the thought of her hating or fearing him scared him so badly. Even with Sasuke, the thought of him having him was terrifying but something he could live with.

🖤 It was releasing to learn about his own true feelings. He was desperately in love with Y/N, to the point where she was like air, or food, or water. Like in order to live, she had to be around.

🖤 As word spread about two strange people walking around Konoha and that Orochimaru took the last Uchiha, it was inevitable that Y/N would learn about the info. The next time she saw Itachi, she brought it up to him and expressed her discomfort in the fact that she could be among evil people.

🖤 He was scared. So scared that she would hate him for his lifestyle after finding out about who he really is. So that was it; his mind was made. He took Y/N away that night.

🖤 When word about the Akatsuki in Konoha, he received a lot more looks when he was in public than normal. He'd usually have a normal kimono on and have his hair in a different, though similar, style in order to appear normal. But he knew deep down in his heart that people are bound to start suspecting him of being an Akatsuki. And overhearing someone talk about an S class Uchiha member is what did it.

🖤 "You've been asking about where I live for a whole now. Would you like see my home?" Itachi asked. Y/N happily agreed to go, and sorta expected his home to be outside of her village. But the further she traveled, she grew a bit nervous and wanted to return home (as you would if you were led outside of your village into deep woods)

🖤 Itachi wasn't escorting Y/N alone. Of course, the Akatsuki is bound to learn about that girl Itachi insisted on bringing up in most of his little amounts of conversations. It was obvious he was obsessed with her, as much as he would try to hid it, but he just couldn't get her off his mind. So the night where he choose to bring her home, Kisame was watching the two frkm afar in case something happened.

🖤 Before that day, Itachi had mentioned that he wanted to protect Y/N. Over the three months Itachi spent with Y/N, he had plenty of time to talk about her enough to where the other members basically knew her.

🖤 Itachi actually got a few of the members (ex. Kisame, Deidara) were interested in Y/N as well. How could someone as "heartless" as Itachi Uchiha fall in love, and in such a dramatic way at that? They were sorta curious to see what was so special about her.

🖤 Anyway, you can imagine how Itachi convinced Y/N to go far enough into the woods to go to a small little cottage. Was it part of the Akatsuki hideout? No. Itachi would never trust the Akatsuki members with Y/N alone, and she needs her freedom to walk around a house.

🖤 The inside was sorta minimalistic, but not completely empty. To the far right was a kitchen was a small dining table with two chairs, and on the opposite side was two rooms. In one room was a single bed with a closet in it, and in the other room was a bathroom. Between the kitchen and two rooms was a small living room with a couch, coffee table, and more. There were bored games in a little dresser in the living room, along with a full bookshelf with books of all genres.

🖤 "Care for dinner?" Itachi had asked. He wanted to tell Y/N why she's there over a dinner he made and had prepared in advance. It turns out he was amazing at cooking.

🖤 It wasn't very easy, but Itachi managed to explain his feelings towards Y/N. Of course, Y/N happily excepted and was quick to hug and express her feelings towards him. He returned the hug and spoke about how he loved her very much, however he had so much more to say to her.

🖤 Justifyingly so, Y/N was frozen in shock when Itachi told his story. He killed everyone in his clan aside from his brother, the well-known Uchiha. How he fled his clan after committing the murders and joined an infamous group; The Akatsuki.

🖤 While displaying himself as calm, he was so overwhelmed and scared within his mind. He knew he'd have to tell her why she's staying at the house and why, from now one, she'll never leave. But he was smart enough to know she wouldn't simply except living here out of love. He would have to be a bit manipulative to keep Y/N.

🖤 Y/N was mortified and didn't notice the tears pouring out of her eyes. She fell desperately in love with a murderer. She felt so sick, so scared. She stood up, begging to go home so desperately, trembling over her own words. She was so scared for her life now, and what Itachi's intentions were. Truly, Itachi's heart broke at this.

🖤 "Y/N, darling," Itachi spoke, his words laced with love as she softly grabbed Y/N wrists and leaned close. "I had to take you away. I couldn't let them take you from me."

🖤 He was very delicate with Y/N as he calmed her down, as if she was glass. His heart ached at her pain, but he truly believed it was for the best. In a way it really was; people saw Y/N with the tall raven boy many times in public, and her parents and friends had met him too. Once they find out that boy is the Itachi, Y/N could be killed if they think she was aiding him.

🖤 Itachi did his best to show her around and make her feel comfortable. But no matter what he did, Y/N felt so broken, so empty, so confused. There's no way that sweet Itachi she loves is a killer. He has to be lying.

🖤 Over the course of a few days, Y/N learned to except the fact she's held at that small home. She tried to think on the good side; she could decorate it how she wants, has more freetime, can focus on her hobbies and learn to cook new things, and more! Even if she's never allowed to leave the house, Itachi let's her do basically anything around the home.

🖤 Y/N still loves him. As months go by of being alone for a few days without Itachi, some days with him for a little bit, and some full days with him, she still couldn't help but appreciate him just as much as before. No, she appreciates him more even. She just can't help but love him, and he loves her too.

🖤 Itachi felt much more relaxed around Y/N and tried to spend every second he could with her. He was so shameful of keeping her from her home, but it was for the best wasn't it?

🖤 Most of Itachi's emotions about keeping her was all because he lived her and never wanted to see her with anyone else. But he had always found an excuse as to why it's for the best that she's never with anyone else.

🖤 Kisame had met Y/N a few times. She was never comfortable with him however and was typically holding onto Itachi's sleeve, or leaning on him when he's around. However Kisame would be around when Itachi wasn't sometimes to keep watch.

🖤 As long as Itachi or Kisame was present, Y/N is allowed to go outside and visit close villages other than the one Y/N is from. She would be allowed to buy anything she wanted and could afford from these places, but she had to go home eventually.

🖤 At the end of the day, Y/N had quite a lot of freedom and eventually, she was happy. She was happy to be living with Itachi and was perfectly happy calling him her husband.

🖤 Itachi never wanted a marriage though. He was going blind and he planned to be murdered by his brother and he never dared to make her a young widow. When Izumi had died, he felt so distraught and he knew Y/N is bound to feel the same, but even worse if they got married.

🖤 When Itachi died, as said, Y/N was distraught. No, she was mortified. Absolutely mortified. Even if she was free, she had lost the last person she had a connection with. And she carried that sorrow to her grave.

#anime #reader insert #shounen #itachi #itachi uchiha #yandere itachi #yandere itachi x reader #itachi x you #itachi x y/n #itachi x reader #i love itachi

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artzee-bee · 3 years

Text

Hints | Benny Weir x reader

Fandom: My Babysitter’s a vampire

Request: “ Mbav where reader likes Benny? Ethan and rory try to be wingmen to help the reader but end up messing up a few times. Benny kind of doesn’t noticed until reader decides to be brave and finally ask him out? Then at the end he feels a bit dumb/silly for not noticing? “

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/N: This is kinda rushed, I’m behind on some requests because of school but I’m trying m best to catch up <33

~~~

Ethan and Rory were your friends and you loved them both deeply but God is your witness when you say that one day they will be the end of you

“Haven’t we talked about this?!” you all but screamed at the 2 boys

“We did!”

“And that’s exactly why we talked to Benny!”

“No, that’s not what you were supposed to do!!”

“Dude, relax, we are just helping out!” Rory waved his hand as if it was nothing, which only railed you up more

“Rory, not to pop your bubble but you can’t be a wingman for shit!” Ethan snickered at your comment

“Don’t laugh, neither can you!”

“Y/N, seriously relax, it’s not as bad as you think”

Except you couldn’t help but feel that your 2 best friends persuading your crush to ask you to prom was, in fact, a huge deal. Especially since said crush happened to be none other that your other best friend, Benny Weir.

You told Ethan and Rory about your crush on Bens no longer than a week ago. E was smart and observant. He noticed pretty quickly how you acted differently around Benny and Rory, well, he was just nosy and loved the drama. The 2 of them bothered you with all kinds of questions for so long, until you gave in and admitted your feelings. They were excited and supportive but you had to make them promise they won’t say a word to anyone! “Come on Y/N, you know we’re better than that!” they had said

Damn right they were! At first you were honestly surprised by how well they kept your secret, until Sarah told you she overheard them telling Benny he should ask you to prom. You were furious! Could they seriously be any more obvious?

When Ethan and Rory excited their class later that day, they found you waiting for them, which was never a good sign.

You knew they had the best of intentions. Looking into their eyes now, you knew they only meant to help you, do you good! But God were they ridiculous!

“What did he even say?” when he heard you, Rory glanced up, excited to finally be able to tell you everything

“Well, at first he was a bit weirded out and asked <<Why Y/N?>> but not in a disgusted way, like in a confused way! And than Ethan asked why not and Benny just sat there looking at him as if he was rethinking his entire existence and then…” Rory’s rebelling went on and on to the point where you honestly got lost but Ethan made sure to give you a rundown: Benny seemed unsure but curious at the proposition, as if he wasn’t sure where it came from. That, at least, eased your nerves. He hadn’t caught on that you liked him

“We’re sorry Y/N.” Rory said sincerely “We didn’t mean to piss you off”

In an instant, your arms went around his neck, hugging him as tight as you could

“It’s ok Rory, just try to stay out of it moving forward, ok?” the boy’s grip tightened on you as he whispered his promise in the crook of your neck. God, Rory always had the best hugs!

The bell rang and the blonde hurried along to his next class, but before you could leave, Ethan pulled you into a hug himself.

“You should talk to him. Prom is coming up, it’s the perfect chance!” you didn’t exactly agree with him but promised to think about it, before instructing him to get to class.

Rory and Ethan were on their best behavior for the next couple of days. Some silly jokes and ‘what ifs’ here and there but that was all, to your knowledge at least. Behind the scenes they took every chance they got to bring you up in a conversation with Benny. His reaction was always more or less the same: either confused about why they talked about you so much, or genuinely appreciative of you and your friendship. He didn’t seem to pick up any of the hints the boys were dropping for him, which was exasperating.

With only one week left before prom, your mind was preoccupied by your best friends encouraging words

“You have to ask him!”

“He will say yes!”

“You would be such a cute couple!”

You tried to imagine what would happen if you did confess to Benny. At first, it was scary. All you could see was his mean laugh and the weight of the inevitable rejection made it hard to breath but the more you thought about it, you couldn’t continue to ignore this one question: What if he said yes?

You mentally prepared yourself all night for this moment, except arriving at school in the morning, you felt much heavier. This was much more real than you ever anticipated and you almost backed out, but your stubbornness would not allow it.

You found Benny by the main entrance, scrolling through his phone. He was probably waiting for Ethan like he usually did. Your heart was racing as you looked at him and your mind was clouded by hundreds of possible outcomes but you didn’t allow any of them to take over. You walked up to him, and waved your hand to get his attention. He looked up at you with his usual bright smile that made you all warm and cosy on the inside.

“Hey Y/N!”

“Do you wanna go to prom with me?” you didn’t have time to think. If you thought too much you wouldn’t have done it! You just needed to say it and be done. Benny’s expression was naturally unsure and a little confused

“Me?” he asked, pointing to himself

“Yes”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“I-I mean, yeah! I would,I-I’d love that.” his stutter was adorable and slowly but surely the knot in your chest disappeared

“Thank God” you laughed, making Benny giggle

“I was actually thinking about asking you as well” the boy said

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean I kinda, um, like you…” he whispered the last part, a little unsure “And Ethan and Rory were telling me it’d be a good idea but I wasn’t exactly sure so…” before he could finish the sentence you wrapped your arms around him

“I like you too” Benny pulled you closer to him, burying his face in your hair

“I never thought I’d hear you say that”

“Really? After all the hints Ethan and Rory left you?”

“Wait, they knew?” Benny seemed genuinely surprised which made you laugh

“Of course! I told them to stay out of it but they insisted on playing ‘wingmen’ for me.” Benny turned red with embarrassment

“Well if I didn’t already know I was an idiot, I sure do now!” you placed a kiss on his cheek before saying

“Never an idiot Bens, just a little oblivious.”

#mbav #mbav x reader #benny weir #benny weir imagine #benny weir x reader #benny weir fluff

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 3 years

Text

Sometimes You Have No Option

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: scar mentions, mostly just vague nothing too graphic at all, very quick mention of the ‘heat death of the universe‘, it’s one throwaway line but just to be safe!

Summary: Virgil wonders what Roman gets up to on his adventures that leaves him battered and bruised. What he finds isn’t what he expected....

---------

There was always this unpleasant feeling that followed Virgil whenever Roman came back from traversing the mindscape on an ‘adventure’; sometimes he’d come back bruised and bashed, other times he’d sport a limp, but nearly every time, Roman would come home with new scars.

Virgil couldn’t understand the appeal of it, though far be it for him to say anything about it. Sure, maybe it did hurt a little seeing someone he cared about come back each time more banged up than before.

But that's none of his business, right?

Virgil wondered just what Roman got up to each time he went out. He’d never seen the things Roman could conjure outside of the main mindscape; some called it the ‘imagination’ but they were already within the imagination technically. No, what Roman would conjure was more like a simulation within the mindscape, as far as Virgil understood it. Like adding an extension onto a home…. Only to tear it down once you were done with it in the end.

Perhaps calling them ‘daydreams’ was a more accurate comparison.

There were many times Virgil would let his own imagination run wild with the kind of journeys Roman must have gone on. Forests and kingdoms, perhaps a seafaring adventure if Remus agreed to not set the kraken on him. Or maybe he branched out even more. Something like the spaceports of Treasure Planet, or something more akin to a spiritual journey you’d find in a Ghibli movie. Who knew what Roman was up to most days, honestly.

It was a lazy Saturday in the mindscape when Virgil finally decided to ask Roman about it.

He hadn’t necessarily planned to do so, but Logan and Patton were both busy elsewhere, and all Virgil had to do was watch TV and contemplate the inevitable heat death of the universe when Roman had returned. Mismatched eyes latched onto the creative side as the prince made his way to the kitchen. He winced as he watched Roman root around for frozen peas and press the bag to his left cheek.

The injury was just out of Virgil’s sight, but as Roman turned and made eye contact, he could see the beginnings of a bruise forming. Despite the way the sight made Virgil’s lips pinch into a frown, Roman met him with a smile that made his stomach do flips as he made his way over to the sofa,

“What’s that look for, Woe Troham?”

Virgil snorted, “Wow, we’re getting obscure with the nicknames now? You’re really earning that extra credit in Emo Studies, Princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes fondly and sat down next to Virgil, careful of the anxious side’s bunched up legs, “You do realise we ALL went through Thomas’ emo phase, right?”.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Whatever...”, he was about to leave the conversation there when he remembered the matter at hand, “Hey, uh, Roman?”

“That’s what they call me, yes.”, the creative side smirked playfully, “Typically preceded by ‘Prince’ but I’ll cut you some slack this once.”. Virgil wanted to slap that smirk away. Or maybe smooch it. The jury was still out on that one.

He sighed in mock annoyance, “Can we cut out the nonsense for once, Romano?”

He bit his lip to stifle a chuckle at the insulted huff Roman let out.

“Okay, seriously, I was gonna ask what happened,”, Virgil continued when Roman fixed him with a perplexed frown, “Y’know, to cause that.” .

He freed one hand from his hoodie paws to gesture to the bruise under the frozen peas in Roman’s hand. Said creative side shrugged, “It’s nothing to worry about, Virge. I’ve had far worse before.”.

Oh great, because that’s what Virgil was absolutely dying to hear.

The words left his mouth before the anxious side could stop them, “.. Can I see?”

Okay, that had to have crossed a line, surely. Those scars were probably super traumatic or heavy with meaning, or perhaps they were-

“Okay.”, Roman shrugged. He was already hauling his shirt off by the time Virgil had registered how casual Roman was about this whole thing. He was about to voice his confusion when Roman’s shirt fluttered to the floor; leaving Virgil with a moment of gay crisis, but even more so a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

Roman’s entire torso was covered in scars. Some were fresh, likely only days old, while others were already paling with time. The anxious side had no idea where his hands obtained the audacity to trail themselves along Roman’s skin without permission, but the creative side seemed content to let him continue.

Surprisingly confident fingertips traced valleys and trenches of healed and healing skin, only ever stopping on each route if Roman protested. Virgil had no idea why Roman let him even do something that felt this intimate in the first place, but the question that bubbled out of his throat instead was, “What…. Happened to you?”

He expected Roman to turn away, to dramatically cover himself once more, perhaps muttering a barely audible “some things are left unsaid” or “it’s…. Personal”, and then he’d retire to his room while Virgil did the same and let his mind swim in it’s usual cloud of anxious self depreciation.

What Virgil did not expect was for Roman to immediately start pointing them out and listing every single cause like it was his grocery list.

“Well!”, Roman began, pointing to a scar on his left hip, “This is one I got from accidentally laying down on a light bulb.”

The prince pointed to more scars as he went, all too oblivious of Virgil’s stunned silence, “This one here is from running through corn stalks with my shirt off, and that one was a mosquito bite I scratched, which yes I know you shouldn’t do that, but you know how dreadfully those itch.This one here is from the time I tried to fight a goose- Oh! And this one I procured from falling out of a window during an impromptu tickle fight with Remus-”

“Why does anyone try to fight a goose?!”, Virgil blurted out. Of all the rapidfire information his brain just tried to absorb, he wasn’t sure why that was what his brain latched onto, but he couldn’t exactly take back the question now.

The anxious side watched Roman’s expression take on a distant, stoic edge, but having known him so well by now Virgil knew the prince’s fake dramatic long distance stare a mile away. “Sometimes,”, Roman began, and Virgil did his best not to give a fond huff of annoyed laughter at the creative side’s faux drama tone, “The goose leaves you no option-”

Virgil couldn’t stifle the peal of laughter that slipped through his teeth and betrayed his irritated facade. The whole conversation had been an emotional rollercoaster but Virgil was mostly just happy that even if Roman was constantly getting into scrapes, at least it was nothing overly serious. By the time Virgil had stopped laughing, he realised Roman had also fallen victim to the case of the giggles.

“You’re ridiculous, goddamit, Roman!”, Virgil snarked weakly, the gentle smile he wore betraying any attempt at true irritation. Roman simply continued to beam at Virgil, brilliant and bright, a beacon of pure adoration.

“That’s a rather funny way to pronounce ‘handsome and dashing’, but I’ll take it!”

It’s unfair that Roman got to be so well put together while Virgil was just standing there, hands still resting on Roman’s bare chest, blushing up an absolute storm. Something about the way Roman smiled at him - so gentle and adoring - made Virgil want to do something crazy.

Like kissing him.

Yeah.

He should kiss him.

No, wait, he absolutely should NOT do that.

In fact, Virgil caught himself just as he was leaning towards Roman, intending to turn away. However, Roman’s arms snaked their way smoothly around his waist, keeping him close but still remaining loose enough that Virgil could break away if he wanted.

“.... Virgil, can I ask you something?”

Roman’s voice was hesitant, a little less sure of himself than his expression implied. To save himself from embarrassment by not subjecting Roman to any barely passable attempts at a verbal affirmation, Virgil nodded bashfully.

Roman’s gaze landed on Virgil’s lips then settled back into half lidded eye contact, a small quirk of laughter dancing across the prince’s features.

“Am I the only one who’s been subtly flirting this entire time? Because if so, I am going to be utterly scandalized.”

Even Virgil was surprised by the relieved laughter he let out; it was the ugly kind that gave away just how smitten he was with Roman. He tapped his fingers against Roman’s chest, humming playfully.

“Hmmm, looks like you’ll just have to be scandalized, pretty boy.”, he teased.

Roman’s shocked expression was too cute, how could Virgil resist? The anxious side sighed out a low chuckle, rolled his eyes, and lent forward to reward him with a much earned kiss.

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We love us a couple of pining dorks

Based on this post and so I tag @count-woe-laf as promised!

#my fics #prinxiety #roman #virgil #fanfic #fanfics #prinxiety fanfiction #this is basically a shitpost piece #but I'm working on other stuff and it's been so long #I wanted to give you all smth soft and fluffy to read

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stuff-from-the-void-matron · 3 years

Text

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (6)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(some of y’all seemed to like chapter 5! so here’s chapter 6 like promised! and remember, you get chapter 7 if this one is shown some love, so remember to comment and reblog! thanks y’all! <3)

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True to their word Tommy and Tubbo came back to see you the very next day, having gotten up early (well early for them) to get ready and head out. Wilbur had wanted to go with them but he’d gotten caught up in presidential matters and couldn’t, much to his dismay. Too bad for him though that neither boy cared to wait on him since according to Tommy,

“It’ll take you hours to handle that stuff, I’m not waitin’ that long!”

So the pair bailed and Wilbur was left to sigh as he continued his work. And the following day he was blindsided by plans for a new public building everyone was wanting to get built in L’manburg. And they couldn’t plan it without Wilbur’s approval and supervision so while he handled that for the next few weeks the two boys would sneak off to spend time in your village.

They were both pretty good workers, at least when they weren’t goofing off and getting into shenanigans. You can’t count how many times you’d caught Tommy trying to build structures out of cobblestone in the village. He’d argued that he was improving the village but you threatened to eat his portion of the day’s lunch if he didn’t get rid of whatever tower or thing he’d started construction on. He’d always kick up a fuss but would take them down before the day was done. A few times Tubbo would run screaming for you, telling on Tommy for whatever new cobble thing he was trying to build in secret. Tommy either rushing to tear the structure down or chasing after his friend and screaming at him for being a ‘little snitch’.

You knew the two were just playing and they never failed to finish the tasks you gave them so you were mostly just amused by the pair. Though that didn’t stop you from scolding them when they inevitably broke something of yours or the villagers’. But thankfully the times when scoldings or lectures were needed were pretty rare. You’re not sure if this is because the two boys were actually taking your words to heart or not though. But regardless, the time spent together was nice.

Which meant when the two boys mentioned them needing to go to the Nether and asked if you wanted to tag along you said sure. You remembered the classic Nether and even saw parts of the Nether update, but you’d never gotten a chance to explore it in depth. You’d planned to before.. well before you’d ended up here. But that never happened. And once you ended up here you could have gone to the Nether but to be honest it just wasn’t on your list of priorities. You’d been too focused on improving the village and then building your home and stuff. But you figured there was no harm to checking it out now.

-0-

“We’ll either have to go back to L’manburg where there’s already nether portals or we’ll have to find a lava pool around here to make a new one,” Tommy said to you and Tubbo, though more specifically to you.

You raised an eyebrow and asked why, and both boys started replying at the same time, Tubbo trying to explain that they didn’t have any obsidian on them so it was the only options and Tommy just saying ‘because that’s the options unless you’ve got obsidian’ in his usual blunt manner.

Without thinking about it you opened your inventory and took out a stack of obsidian and a flint and steel and held them up to the pair. Their eyebrows raised and Tommy started asking you why the hell you had so much obsidian on you! But you just half shrugged and glanced away, saying you kept an approximate assortment of items on you at all times. The boys gave each other a ‘what the hell’ look before Tubbo shrugged and said who cares then asked where they should build the nether portal.

Tommy suggested building it in the village, but you nixed that idea right away. Tommy huffed and asked WHY NOT and you said you weren’t going to open an actual portal to HELL in the middle of your village. Any number of hostile creatures could come waltzing through and kill your villagers or even burn the place down. Tommy winced and softly mumbled that yeah that was a possibility. You rolled your eyes and Tubbo suggested building it outside the bamboo walls surrounding your village. You agreed and then you three set off to find a good spot.

Thankfully finding a spot a safe distance from the village, on a hill too, was pretty easy. And you made the portal as one usually does. At one point you misplaced a block of obsidian and the two boys laughed and Tubbo said that now the portal was going to be all wonky looking. And Tommy was in the middle of saying you sucked at building when you thoughtlessly deleted the block of obsidian before lighting the portal with the flint and steel. All was silent.

. . . .

“WOT!? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?” Tommy practically screeched.

You blinked and looked at the two gobsmacked teens before realizing you’d just pulled some not exactly possible shit. They were giving you two twin Looks that basically screamed for you to explain yourself. But you just stayed silent for a minute before just saying not to worry about it. Internally you winced at that unintentionally dodgy answer but the two boys just kept pestering you, demanding to know how you’d done that. You sighed, knowing they’d keep on pestering you. So you decided to tease them a bit, just for laughs.

“You two can’t expect me to give away all my mystical secrets, can you~?” You said with a sly grin, waggling your fingers when you said ‘mystical’, just to play up the drama.

The two clearly did because Tommy went on a rant about how that was ‘such bullshit!’ and you can’t just ‘pull some weirdo shit like that and expect no questions!’ and more. You laughed and held your hands up in mock surrender before sighing a dramatic sigh and said fine, you’d reveal one of your secrets. But they had to swear not to tell anyone. Like you expected the two agreed without a thought. Then you took a deep breath and laced your fingers together in front of you, telling them to copy you. They did without question, both looking eager to learn. You told them to close their eyes and breathe steadily and listen to your voice. They did and you couldn’t hold back the smile as you continued,

“Alright, keep your eyes closed. Focus on my voice. The key to my master block breaking skills is quite simple really,” you said as you silently inched back, keeping an eye on them both as they stood there, eyes closed and hands clasped in front of them. Your smile grew into a grin as you felt the strange warmth of the nether portal envelop you, purple tinting your vision as you continued,

“The key is to just never reveal your secrets!”

By the time they registered exactly what you said you were almost totally through the portal, and you started laughing your ass off when you heard Tommy scream,

“READER! YOU BASTARD! COME BACK HERE-”

But it got cut off as you were sent through the portal, the last thing you saw was the two boys lunging for you before your view darkened and the almost suffocating heat of the Nether hit you in the face. You stepped forward and yelped as you almost walked right off a cliff into a lava lake. You hurried to put up a wall of obsidian for the boys coming in after you. You didn’t want them to fall, it would have ended poorly for them if they did.

But you couldn’t focus on that shit right now! You had to hide! There wasn’t much around you to hide behind. You were in a large mostly flat area with some flames here and there and a lava lake behind you and a large wall of netherrack in front of you some ways away. You glanced back when you heard the portal activating again, signaling the two coming through. That’s when you glanced up. With a snicker you jumped up onto the top of the portal and laid down on your side, perfectly able to see down. You stayed perfectly still as the portal made its usual strange sound before it spat out the two boys you’d come to care for in a maternal fashion. You’d almost laughed when they smacked right into the wall you put up to keep them from tumbling to their doom. Tommy cursed before following Tubbo to the other side of the portal.

Tommy was definitely fired up, Tubbo laughing as they boys scoured the area for you. They didn’t see a glimpse of you, which felt crazy because you’re in WHITE. In the Nether! You should stick out like a sore thumb! And there was nowhere within running distance to hide so that made Tubbo sputter and ask how fast you were exactly! You bit your tongue to keep from laughing and watched them start walking away from the portal, calling your name and demanding you ‘show yourself this instant!’ as they did. You just watched them go with a grin, deciding to let them wander around a bit before you popped back up.

You laid there as they got further away, heading for what looked to be a crimson forest about 50 or so blocks to the left of the portal. As you laid there you sighed. Breathing in the Nether wasn’t fun. It honestly just made you want to grimace, this place honestly felt like a shitty dry summer day in a desert. Overwhelming and too humid to do anyone any good. You just wished it wasn’t so warm to breathe in. If the air was cooler, at least by a handful of degrees, then you’d probably be able to enjoy this place. But you supposed it could be worse. It could be a suffocating WET heat, like trying to breathe through a bowl of hot soup.

At that point you glanced around and noticed you couldn’t see either Tommy or Tubbo anymore. So you figured it was time to go hunt them down so they could try to interrogate you. You walked along, passing a couple zombified piglins as you did. They each had thousand yard stares like regular zombies so you didn’t pay them much mind. Though you noticed when you passed by the regular non zombie piglins they all looked at you, snorting enviously at your golden jewelry. You couldn’t keep the smile from your face. You had to admit that it was nice to have someone appreciate your accessories. The number had increased since you’d started wearing the bangles. The armorer who first made them saw you liked them and so started making more jewelry.

Now you had the bangles, a couple anklets, more than a couple necklaces (both chokers and longer ones), plenty of rings, and even some pretty dangly earrings coupled with some studs. Your ears shockingly hadn’t been pierced when you’d gone to put them in after getting the gift. Which was weird since they’d been pierced before? But it wasn’t a big deal, you’d pierced your own ears before so you just did it again. And when you’d shown the boys they’d said you looked nice but they just didn’t appreciate jewelry like you did. Though you could see the piglins certainly did, but that was probably just because they were gold. But it was nice to have someone like them regardless.

You were appreciating the gold rings on one piglin’s tusks (and idly wondering if you’d be able to do the same for your antlers?) when suddenly you heard Tommy start shrieking. And not his usual angry shriek but instead one that was full of panic and fear. You jolted when you heard him yelling Tubbo’s name frantically, sprinting towards their cries without even saying a parting goodbye to the nice piglin you’d been standing with. Which was good because without wasting time with pleasantries you were able to find Tubbo and Tommy fairly quickly. Only downside was when you found them it was with them backed against a wall in the crimson forest with nowhere to run with a very angry hoglin ramming its huge tusks against Tubbo’s rapidly breaking shield, Tommy right behind him, both screeching and cursing at each other.

You didn’t even think as you charged at the hoglin. When you got up behind it you acted on pure instinct, desperate to get it away from the two screaming kids. So you grabbed its hind leg and yanked it back, momentarily shocked at how easy it was to do so. But you couldn’t worry about that right now. You pulled the hoglin back then swung it around before tossing it a few yards back. It landed with a heavy THUD, clearly taking damage, squealing in anger as it got back up and shook itself off. Though it snorted angrily it didn’t try to attack you but instead tried to go around you to reach the two boys. But you didn’t give it the chance before you were literally grabbing it by the tusks and spinning your body around before slamming the hoglin into one of the nearby tree sized crimson fungus. It smashed through the trunk, destroying two blocks in the process. The hoglin lay crumpled on the ground, weakly trying to stand only to die shortly after when you stomped on its neck.

It disappeared with a small ‘poof’, leaving behind a hide and some raw pork. You grabbed them up before walking over to the stunned teenage boys by the wall. You started checking them over to see if they’d taken any damage and then once you were sure they were okay you started asking them why on earth they’d come to the nether without shields and weapons! Tubbo said his sword had had lower durability than he’d thought and it broke when he was fighting off the hoglin! And Tommy shamefully admitted to having his sword but… dropping his shield when they were climbing across the crimson fungus. Then he’d apparently fallen and gotten surprised by the hoglin, who had done a good chunk of damage to him before Tubbo jumped down (taking damage in the process) to try and help him. All in all the two looked super embarrassed. You just shook your head and said they were idiots, but you were glad they were alive.

While you grabbed two shields and a sword from your inventory Tommy went nuts, saying that was the coolest shit he’d ever seen anyone do ever! You gave him an amused look and asked what he meant. The killing the hoglin thing? He’d never seen someone kill a pig? He gawped at you and yelled out that NO he’d seen people kill hoglins, but he’d never seen anyone basically fight one with their bare hands! Tubbo cut in and added ‘and live!’ to the blond’s statement, which Tommy nodded along with. You just rolled your eyes and handed them the shields and Tubbo the sword before calling them silly for getting so worked up over you killing a hoglin. Then before they could rant more you pulled them both into a gentle side hug and sighed,

“I’m glad you’re both okay though, you scared me back there. I don’t want either of you getting hurt. So please be more careful, okay? For me?”

The two boys softened at that and each timidly wrapped an arm around you, feeling bad they’d worried you but… oddly happy that you cared enough to even BE worried. Which was a weird train of thought for them. Neither had any parents save for Philza, and he was mostly just a loose dad figure. He was a good guy and helped care for them but he also believed in letting them figure stuff out on their own and didn’t really offer help unless they asked for it. But you felt different. They’d only known you for a few weeks but it felt like longer. They felt safe with you in your village and yeah you had your rules but they strangely didn’t mind following them. It made you happy and when you were happy they were happy too.

Though the touching moment was brought to a sudden halt when Tommy suddenly shrieked. You and the boys looked down to see a baby hogling ramming its tusks against the blond boy’s ankles. You laughed and reached down before smacking it on the haunch, causing it to squeal in shock and run away. Tommy grumbled and cursed the small thing, making you and Tubbo snicker. But then you asked them what they needed from the Nether. Turns out they needed blaze rods and were going to loot a nether fortress. You said that sounded dangerous and asked them if they had any food to restore their health or even fire resistance potions. And well they had food so, not a total facepalm moment. But then they asked you where your weapon was, and your shield! Did YOU have food or fire resistance potions? You blinked and said you’re sure you had some of that stuff yeah.

They pestered you until you pulled out your enchanted axe and shield. You didn’t really need the shield you didn’t think but it seemed to put the two boys at ease so you carried it as you followed them through the nether. Idly you made sure to leave a trail of cobblestone behind you all, so you’d know where you’d come from and could find your way back easier. And it turns out that was a smart move because you all walked a long way, through at least 4 different biomes, before you stumbled across a nether fortress. Said structure loomed over you three, looking utterly massive and low key intimidating. You squinted and told the two boys you could see a couple zombie piglins and wither skeletons up on the landings walking around. Tommy groaned and said the wither skeletons were a pain in the ass but knocking them off the edge was pretty easy.

The rest of the evening was spent following the two around the nether fortress, helping them collect potion ingredients and fend off mobs. And to your utter shock you three had discovered that you just… didn’t take fire damage! Like, at all. You’d been busy helping them knock back a couple wither skeletons when unbeknownst to you three a blaze had approached and shot fireballs at you, hitting you square in the back. You honestly hadn’t even noticed, being too busy with helping Tommy fend off a skeleton. It was only after you knocked them all off and Tubbo yelped about you burning did you pause and ask what he was going on about. You understood when he screamed that you were on fire. And yeah, when you looked down you actually were. But it… didn’t hurt? It wasn’t even burning you or your clothes. You just blinked stupidly before simply patting it out. As you three stood there silently it seemed Tommy became fed up as he shouted,

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU!?”

Which just made you start laughing your ass off, only able to offer him a shrug because honestly you didn’t even know yourself at this point. Tubbo started giggling as well which eventually got Tommy to crack a smile before he broke out into laughter too. You all finished laughing and Tubbo suggested that maybe it was a fluke? Tommy nodded and said maybe you just got lucky or were in shock or something? Though that was disproved when you checked yourself and your skin and clothes were totally fine, no burns at all. Tubbo grinned and suggested testing it. You raised an eyebrow and he pulled out a flint and steel before lighting a patch of the ground on fire. Tommy’s eyes were wide but he was grinning and looking at you, probably wondering if you were actually going to do it. You were anxious, because all your previous life experience told you ‘fire bad’ but… you were curious too.

So you stuck one foot into the fire. And… nothing. It felt warm for sure. Sort of like if you stuck your hand in front of a space heater. Very warm but it didn’t hurt. So you just stepped into the fire and it crawled up your skin until it was licking at your face. But you were totally fine. Tommy and Tubbo laughed incredulously, with the blond saying this whole thing was fucking insane. He asked if you were sure you hadn’t drank any fire resistance potions? You shook your head no and Tubbo pointed out that surely they would have seen the potion particles if that were the case. Tommy hummed but agreed before saying that despite this all being neat and shit that they still had the rest of the fortress to scavenge. Tubbo followed him with you leading the rear and on your way inside the brunet laughingly said he was going to use you as a blaze shield. You just gave a fake offended gasp and just said, “Rude.” which made both boys snicker.

-0-

True to their word they’d used you like a human shield. But since you took no damage you just rolled with it, actually finding all of this pretty amusing by now. And after you’d all gathered more than enough blaze rods you’d separated from them for a bit. Mostly just sticking around the sand path that led back to the portal while they searched the rest of the fortress for nether wart and mined for glowstone dust. And while they did that you sat on a block of sand and pulled out some food to eat, mostly out of boredom than from any real desire to satiate any hunger. But while you were munching on a golden carrot a little piglin child came up to you to admire your golden jewelry. You smiled down at them, inwardly cooing over how adorable they were with their little baby tusks. And you almost died when they let out a happy squeal when you offered them a chunk of your golden carrot. You’re not sure how long you sat there with the baby piglin but after eating a couple carrots together you placed down another block of sand before using your finger to draw pictures in the sand, much to the child’s delight. They copied you and started drawing pictures too. Most of which you couldn’t recognize but they were still cute.

“OI! Reader! C’mon, we’re done!!” yelled the blond boy from up the path a ways.

The baby piglin snorted in distrust and hid a bit behind the sand block, showing they didn’t really trust the two players. You chuckled and said you were coming to the two boys before standing up and dusting yourself off. Then you glanced down at the tiny little piglin and smiled before pulling a gold ingot from your inventory. The baby piglin snorted enviously then squealed loudly when you handed them the ingot. They couldn’t take their wide eyes off of it, making you giggle at how precious they were. But sadly you had to go so you gently patted their head and said goodbye. They managed to tear their eyes away from the gold to snort sadly as you left. Part of you felt bad but the bigger part knew they couldn’t follow you to the Overworld..

After leaving the Nether you broke the portal, not wanting to risk any nether creatures accidentally stumbling through and getting hurt. And with a glance around you saw it was getting late. To the point where Tubbo and Tommy would have to rush to get back to their houses before night fell. So you saw them off, giving them some food for the trip and even giving them another hug goodbye. One you noticed they relaxed into faster than before. Then they were off, calling out goodbyes and saying they’d be back either tomorrow or the next day. You waved bye and said you looked forward to it, calling out your usual ‘be careful!’ before you couldn’t see them anymore. You frowned a little. Despite them having armor and weapons you still worried about them travelling alone at night after they visited you. You think next time you’ll walk them home. Just to make sure they were safe.

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@salinesoot @lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #c!techno #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt x reader #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!wilbur

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dennishater69 · 3 years

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bro i been thinking abt that (the one up there that one great post big fan) post theorizing that dennis is meant to be a twist on the “jim halpert” kind of a leading man thats standard on sitcoms. and how all the characters are like that yanno? historically successful, funny, and loved tv tropes put into an unforgiving and realistic world? like it’s even funnier when you think about how it’s almost as if the gang (ESP Den) /knows/ that they should be getting rewarded for all their antics and scheming. that’s what happens on tv. on tv jim knew from day one that he was the man for pam, he /knew/ he’d get her and (so) he /did/! he didn’t even have to try!! but in philly dennis “knows” that he’s the man for (caylee, mac, literally anyone) but it comes off as creepy not charming thus hes often rejected and humiliated.

dee is the female voice of reason (yeah ik the origin of kaitlins dee shut up let me talk), and yet her schemes and beliefs are just as titled as the boys. now look at this: lisa simpsons job wasnt to actually convince her dad or brother that their idea was dangerous. lisa’s job was to call attention to just how fucking stupid the male leads r. plus she’s a chick and implicit lesbo so she doubles as a punching bag. just like dee. cept dee isn’t super smart or musically inclined, the only thing she really has going for her is the gang. and the fact that she’s probably the best off in terms of not destroying her own life. which lets her have this unearned sense of superiority similar to dennis’ because she ~knows~ that she’s the voice of reason. what she doesn’t know is why even after she’s proven that that’s not who she WANTS to be anymore the guys still refuse to treat her like a real member of the gang even though she so obviously is. even tho the guys know she’s just as good (bad) as they are. lisa simpson, the chick from seinfeld, and lois griffin are all fine and good and are funny because deep down lois CHOSE to marry peter, lisa explicitly LOVES her family DESPITE their flaws. but dee is UNLOVED. there’s no point in her being there other than to contradict, not cos she necessarily wants to but the gang actively avoids giving her attention for anything else. so now you’ve got the voice of reason trope desperately trying to prove their own unreasonableness in an attempt to be liked. the boys resist. she acts up. they give her enough of a nod for her to stay for another drink. meanwhile the gang is getting into increasingly stupid and dangerous schemes because the voice of reason prefers not being shit on. almost like how a real person would react to being forced into that position. huh.

charlie and mac r sort of make up one; they’re the gang (ik ik) they’re dennis’ gang. the chandler and the other one. the “leading mans” sidekicks who are happy to go along with whatever plan, happy to let him get the girl, happy to remind him of how perfect he is when he’s down. (which obviously mac and charlie are NOT happy about ANY of that and HATE that dennis treats them like they are.) It’s also maybe important to note that usually the “leader” of the group is the one who brought the three friends together. dennis just crashed mac and charlie’s twosome one day and never left. mac and charlie support dennis but only out of annoyance or in macs case sometimes something deeper. either way, it’s out of trope. really they shouldn’t be able to function without dennis telling them how to. but at this point it seems like they’re better off without him around.

but charlie is also his own trope. Cause the thing is…charlie works as a lovable goofball, the slob with a heart of gold, socially awkward sure but deep down he wouldn’t hurt a fly. except. he would hurt a fly. he is a self-proclaimed “rat-basher”, hes the only character to explicitly say the n word, he stalks and assaults the waitress (her trope is p obvious. perfect girl that the loser drools over, she rejects him.) to the point of her actually breaking and agreeing to HAVE HIS KID (need a whole new post abt those beans jfc)

NOW. i ask you…what usually happens in tv shows with the charlie/waitress dynamic? typically i’d say that throughout the course of the show the audience realizes that the supposed “perfect girl” is actually a bitch and that it’s actually the unassuming, more natural looking, lead girl who should get together with the charlie character. depending on the show, maybe she’s the girl who’s been helping him chase his supposed dream girl. or she’s the girl who is, up until the big reveal, his lesbian-coded best friend who is SICK of hearing about this girl. or maybe shes just always been there, but he’s never considered her because they’ve been friends for so long, they’ve known each other since they were kids, maybe she isnt even on the table and she’s dating his friend, or she was dating his friend, or maybe…because she’s the sister of his friend. his friends TWIN sister. see where i’m going with this? it’s dee. dee and charlie are the b couple. the dwight and angela. they’re the obvious couple.maybe you didn’t see it at first but once it’s suggested you can’t unsee it. and when they DO get together. it’s like they always were. they’re the caring, devoted, consistent couple that the audience can lean on when things get messy in the other characters relationships. and yet. dee and charlie already DID get together. and apparently they hated it. hated it so much that charlie (the poor guy trope) wanted to stop and dee (girl next door trope) FORCES him to finish. not to mention neither of them seem all that interested in a caring consistent relationship. at least not with each other. why would they be?

and what would a B couple be without an A couple? but how do you even go about satirizing an A couple? they’re meant to stay in a “will they won’t they” for at least five seasons, and when they inevitably do get together it’s full of cheating and lying and breaks. cause thats what makes an A couple interesting to watch. they’re “meant to be” and yet still have to work through the issues that all relationships face. and if it’s a sitcom this is usually funny because all the audience and characters have ever wanted was for the A couple to be official, but now that they are there’s somehow even MORE conflict within the show. sound like anyone? macdennis. but dennis (leading man) wasn’t prepared for a SECOND leading MAN. no one ever told him he was going to be expected to share the limelight. he assumed he’d meet his girl and he would know and so would she and then she’d happily stand behind him forever. not next to him. she certainly wouldn’t ever try and step IN FRONT OF DENNIS. like mac does. now remember that none of the characters, except possibly dee, know that they are filling out a trope. but dennis is the golden god. of course he knows. and that is why he is or was or whatever actively ensuring that he and mac would never be together in a way that could potentially over shadow denniss “guaranteed” leading lady, and more importantly dennis. and even more important. leading men. are not. and have never. been gay. (debatable but i digress)

so a couple b couple who cares? i cares. cause taylor swift doesn’t rape the guy at the end of “You Belong With Me”. b couples exist as a more palatable A couple. meant to be without the drama. so this is extremely out of trope for chardee. yk what ELSE is out of trope? macs coming out. yeah we’ve all touched on how fucked that must’ve felt from dens pov but here’s the thing. by coming out, mac was able to confirm that the A couple, in fact, WILL. and most likely already HAVE. but he did this alone. he and dennis didn’t come out together, mac doesn’t think about dennis at all in find his pride, mac being gay is his. and that leaves dennis with…the knowledge that he and mac ARE the A couple. not only that, but apparently mac can satisfy that trope all by himself. macs outness is obnoxious. it’s like he’s bragging about it. showing it off. it’s how everything was, but. worse. he doesn’t even need anyone to do the annoying A couple stuff, the parade around, the delusion that no one could have possibly known. he doesn’t need dennis. but it’s pretty clear that at least some part of mac still WANTS dennis. and was expecting dennis to too. but that’s not real life. imagine you’re in a “will they won’t they” for DECADES and then, out of nowhere, ur partner says “yeah no we will.” and everyone believes them. they don’t even need to spare a glance at you because they’ve always kinda known and now thanks to “your other half” they always will know for sure. no matter what you do. now there’s an expectation.

and (full circle u guys) dennis’ trope doesn’t usually call for meeting expectations. he’s attractive and charming, he’s supposed to be able to coast until he looks up and realizes he gs everything he ever wanted. but now he’s 44. and he has everything he never wanted. his abusive (not)father is best friends and the father of? HIS highschool best friend, his other best friend is an asshole who is somehow an asshole abt: being gay, dennis being gay, being gay for dennis, dennis not validating that when he expected him to. and his sister, who has been firmly planted against him since they were kids. hes starving and he’s a legit alcoholic, the gross kind, and all he’s ever done is get a diagnosis that makes his friends treat him weird and abandon his son who is named after a stranger to everyone. and i’ll prolly make a king post abt it but dennis has been showing subtle signs of edging towards (another) extreme breaking point and idk what it’s abt (fingers crossed mac uwu ihatemyself )but i’m just saying that dennis’ mentality has kind of always directed the group in a direct way (whether dynamics, psyche, finances, lives, time, etc) so that’s innerestin

and so now i say the most cracked out part of the post. this theory is giving me untapped amounts of hope that the only way the show can end is with the gang finally settling and finding happiness or they all commit group suicide. and idk abt u but those are the only two endings i’m interested in seeing.

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jamilelucato · 3 years

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The Duff || Fred Weasley

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (any house)

summary: your life became too stressing lately, and Fred Weasley, although generally very annoying, manages to distract you just enough when he stops talking.

A/N: completely based on the book The Duff. Like completely. So reader may have some issues with her appearance. Sorry about my other fics! It’s just that, when an idea pops, I have to write. It’s a big fic. (feel like it’s one of my brightest works)

words: + 11k

warnings: insinuations and mentions of sex; body insecurities; sick father, etc

Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

You couldn't understand what could be the fun in going to Three Broomsticks to party. The place is one of the oldest bars in Hogwarts, but not long ago, Madam Rosmerta decided to add a dance floor in one of the darkest sides of the pub, and she got one of those muggle music machines. It was very nice if your thing was dancing in sweat and rubbing your body in people.

Easy to say it was most definitely not your thing.

"Okay, that's it for you," said Madam Rosmerta, taking your mug away. It once was filled with butterbeer, but the barmaid seemed to think you had gotten it filled way too many times for a night.

"Oh, come on," you complained, "there's no alcohol on those."

"I know. But it has sugar, and you had one too many," Rosmerta said, ignoring your pout and walking away from your side of the counter so she could serve other costumers.

Your brain fought a battle to decide if it was worth contesting and explaining that not offering you more butterbeer was causing the barmaid to lose money when the stool next to you cried with the weight that was jumping on it.

"Good evening, y/n," said the boy who now sat next to you.

It was inevitable when your eyes rolled just by smelling his cologne. There was no need for you even to turn to know who it was. Only one boy in the whole Hogwarts was confident enough to wear such cheap cologne as if it was holy water.

"Get the hell away, Weasley," you cried, wishing, profoundly, to have another butterbeer with you.

Madam Rosmerta noticed the new client sitting close to the counter, and she quickly came back to serve him.

"Fred Weasley," she greeted him with her playful smile. She knew the Hogwarts teenage boys only flirted with her in hopes of a discount, but she enjoyed it, considering it rather fun. "What can I get you?"

"My usual butterbeer, Ro," he said, charming her with his smirk. She chuckled, while he passed her a coin.

"If you're getting him one, you're getting me one too," you warned the barmaid, raising a brow. Your serious approach worked because, with a sigh, she walked back with two drinks.

You tossed her your coin.

"That is officially your last one, young lady, so you better enjoy it," she threatened before leaving and playing with her hair solemnly for Fred to see.

He was still smiling when you decided to look at him. He was a bastard, but, boy, was he handsome.

"You have five seconds to disappear from in front of me now that you have your drink," you warned. Even though Fred's eyes followed the back of Rosmerta, yours was still staring at him. Maybe the amount of disgust you felt for him could pass on with a look.

"Chill, would you?" Fred took a sip from his mug, supporting his arms on the counter, finally looking at you. "If you're so bothered, the dance floor awaits."

You chuckled, frowning right after. "Look, Weasley, don't you have any other girl to fuss around?"

He smirked, thinking you were falling for his game. "Do you have friends you'd like to suggest?" he played, raising his brows. "Is Jess still single?"

"I'd be dead if I let you stay even one meter close to my friends, do you hear me? I don't want them catching any diseases," you shivered just with the thought of how many girls (and STDs) this boy before you might have encountered.

"So they are here," his eyes narrowed as if he was scanning the dance floor, searching for your girls.

"Go away, Fred," you sighed, tired of that conversation. You took one sip of your mug, but the butterbeer was no longer enough to keep your mind away from Fred Weasley's affairs. "And stay away from Jess and Casey."

"Oh, y/n, just put a good word for me, please. I mean, it is your job," Fred leaned in, closer to you and his scent attacked your nostrils again, making you lean back.

"It's not my job to help you, Weasley."

"Well, as their duff, I think it is," he drank from his mug, ignoring your confused look.

"Duff?"

Asking him what the word meant called his attention back to you, but he seemed surprised you hadn't heard about it yet. "You know, designated ugly fat friend," he replied, making a peculiar gesture with his neck as he spoke the last term.

You couldn't possibly have heard him right. "Excuse me??"

"Look, I don't mean to offend," he shrugged his broad shoulders, a gift from all his years playing Quidditch.

He noticed how fast your expression was changing.

"It's not like you're an ogre or anything, but in comparison…" his eyes wandered back to the dance floor, this time yours followed, seeing Jess and Casey — your longest-time best friends — dancing with some other students. "Think about it. Why do they bring you here if you don't dance?"

"Shut it, Weasley. They bring me here because I'm their friend; stop with your nonsense," your mind was working incredibly hard to stop you from believing that you were the ugly friend. Because that could not be the truth. Especially if everyone already knew and the one to tell you about it had to be the most annoying Gryffindor.

Fred had the nerve to reach over and pat your knee, but you jerked away from him. "Look," he said, "you have hot friends… really hot friends."

All the butterbeer you had drunk was starting to make you sick. Perhaps Rosmerta had been right, but if you had to bet in a guilt part, you'd bet on the ginger.

"The point is, in a group of friends, there's always a weak link, a Duff. And girls respond well to guys who associate with their Duffs."

"Where are you getting this info? The Quibbler?" you never meant to offend the Lovegoods, but Fred Weasley was speaking rubbish at this point.

"Don't be bitter," Fred pressed his lips together, pausing. "What I'm saying is girls find it sexy when lads show some sensitivity and socialize with the Duff. So, please, help me here, and just pretend to enjoy our talk."

There it was, in front of you, the living, redheaded proof that stupidity is capable of making people persevere for years. You already knew that Fred was a womanizing asshole, but it was unexpected to find out how worthless as a human being he is, too. Pretty faces definitely aren't everything.

With one swift motion, you jumped to your feet and flung the contents of your mug in Fred's direction.

The remaining butterbeer flew all over him, splattering his striped polo collar shirt. The liquid got his ginger hair wet entirely, which surprised you because, usually, you wouldn't have such great aim.

His face burned with anger, and his chiselled mandible clenched angrily. "What was that for?" he snapped, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"What do you think it was for?" you snapped.

"I have no possible idea."

Madam Rosmerta appeared again, giving Fred a white cloth to dry himself, but it wasn't enough. Part of you wanted to be mad at the waitress for helping Fred, but you knew she just didn't want him to ask her to take you out.

"If you think I'm letting one of my friends leave this place with you, Weasley, you're very, very wrong, " you spluttered, staring at him with fire in your eyes. "You're a shallow jackass, and I hope that we never cross paths again."

The stupid muggle music played so loud that no one but Rosmerta overheard you, and she probably found you awsome. She loved some teenage drama.

You grabbed your friends as quickly as you could. They were about protest all the way to the secret passageway back to Hogwarts, so you decided it was best to explain what was happening.

"What's wrong?" Casey asked. Her once perfect dark hair was now wet — part of you wondered if the sweat even belonged to her. For such a smart Ravenclaw, you expected more of her.

"Let's get back to school; I just can't stand to be in this hellhole for one more second, " you said, dragging their reluctant bodies along behind you.

"Why are we leaving so early? It's only, like, nine-fifteen," Jess asked, frowning a bit, looking at you with her sad big blue eyes. Her Hufflepuff charm was about to work on you when you remembered why you were living.

"I got into an argument with someone, " you said, and Jess puppy eyes quickly disappeared, opening the place for her angry face to emerge. "I threw my Coke on him, and I didn't want to stick around for his response."

"Who?" Casey asked. You'd been dreading that question because you knew the reaction you'd get.

"Fred Weasley." two girly sighs followed your answer. "The guy is a man-whore. I can't stand him. He sleeps with everything that moves, and his brain is located in his pants—which means it's microscopic."

"I doubt that, " Casey said with another sigh.

"He's a jerk," you said, hoping your voice sounded like it was final. The tunnel back to Hogwarts seemed endless.

"That's not true," Jessica inserted. "Katie Bell told me he talked to her when she was alone at the Yule Ball. She was with Angelina and Alicia, and she said he just came up and made conversation, really friendly."

That made sense. Katie was definitely the Duff if she was out with Angelina and Alicia. And you knew for a fact that Angelina left with Fred that night.

"He's charming, " Casey said. "Give him some credit." Her smile slowly faded when she remembered that you threw at him your beer. "But what the hell did he do to you tonight, huh?" Now she sounded concerned. Took her long enough.

You sighed, noticing that saying something would only make their worry and you really wanted to avoid their pity. "Nothing, " you lied, "Fred just pisses me off."

Duff. The word bounced around in your mind as you three reached Hogwarts. When you took a last look at your friends before each parted to your houses, Fred's statement that you were the unattractive, undesirable tagalong seemed to be confirmed.

Jessica's perfect hourglass body and big brown eyes. Casey's athlete's features and impeccable skin. You definitely weren't like them.

"Well, see you tomorrow for the feast?" Jess asked the two of you.

You and Casey shared tired smiles. Although Casey would've like to stay a little longer at the Three Broomsticks, she welcomed extra sleeping hours. Her Quidditch player schedule didn't leave her much time to rest.

"See you," you stated, walking away slowly, letting your feet lead the way to your dorm where you'd try extra hard to forget the whole Duff thing.

You picked your blanket up to your chin, not wanting to get out of bed so soon, even though you could very much get late for Snape's class.

Fred Weasley words were hunting you like a ghost. They shouldn't be, because you sure didn't care about his opinion. But the courage he had called you that disgusting abbreviation and how you seemed to find the one out from every single group of friends you walked past.

It had been a week and a half, so why did his words bother you? You were brilliant and a good witch, always there for your friends. Thus, who cared if you were the Duff?

If you were charming, you'd have to deal with lads like Weasley hitting on you. Ugh! That could be a Duff benefit, right? Being unattractive didn't have to suck.

Damn Fred Weasley! You couldn't believe he managed to pack your head with such superficial bullshit. Getting out of bed with a jump, you were committed.

You wouldn't think about Duffs ever again.

Thursdays were homework day, at least for you and your best friends.

When classes were over, the three of you would meet at the library for a long late afternoon, reading through books and doing assignments. And, of course, spilling some tea with whispers.

That afternoon was being way bored than you expected. It was like Jess and Casey interrupted your reading all the time to tell you something new, but that day they seemed to have nothing to say.

And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.

Suspicious.

You stared at them, who pretended they hadn't been facing you all along and turned back to their essays.

"Okay, what is it? You two are awfully quiet," you whispered, leaning closer to them, scared the librarian could hear you.

They exchanged looks before, sighing, Jess gave up on her silent treatment.

"Remember when we planned on going to Three Broomsticks tomorrow?" she pouted, trying to work her big eyes on you.

"You two planned, you mean. I never agreed on it."

"We kinda find dates to go with us," said Casey, ignoring your comment on the matter.

You stared at your two best friends, holding yourself to not laugh.

"Thankfully. I never said I wanted to go," you pointed out with a smile, turning back to your book.

Jessica didn't seem satisfied with you looking away just yet.

"We can find you a date," Jess suggested.

You chuckled. "Alright," you spat — the possibility sounded ridiculous; principally when Fred's words still echoed in the corner of your mind.

"y/n, you have to come," Casey's tone was more serious. "You never go out unless we force you. So, if you don't want a date for yourself, you are thrid-wheeling."

"Not in Askaban, I am not!" you protested, raising your voice way too much but thankfully nobody was around.

Jess tried to work her puppy eyes again. "Please," she sobbed. "If you don't come, I'll feel guilty. Do you want me to ditch Cormac?"

"You are going with Cormac??" you asked, genuinely concerned because he was younger than you, but then you recalled he wasn't younger than her.

"Just show up," said Casey, not really allowing you to object. "I'll pay you a butterbeer."

Her offer was very, very tempting. You had no idea if one could become addicted to butterbeer since yours never had alcohol, but you're getting closer to that.

"But I'll only stay 'till nine," you informed.

The two girls smiled, and Jess had to hold herself from clapping in excitement.

"That'll be enough," said Casey.

"Is your father okay?" Casey asked you as soon as Jess left, and she had the open opportunity to corner you.

She was the only one in the school that you were brave enough to confess what was happening to your father. He had been recently attacked by some Death Eaters, and the Cruciatus curse left him with severe brain damaged.

It happened during the summer, before the start of your seventh year, so you had a couple of weeks to recover from that news before going back to school.

But when your mom's first letter arrived, saying your father was getting more insane with time, no amount of preparation was enough to hold back your tears as you ran out of the Great Hall.

You were able to lie to Jess, but with Casey, you weren't so lucky. Besides, her mom worked at St. Mungo's, so she already knew about your dad way before you told her.

It had been two months since you've been ignoring your mom's letters, all of them. You are too scared to read what they've got to say, and she doesn't let you go back home anyways.

You wanted to be with him, your father, hold his hand, make him better. But your mom was firm on her decision about you graduating Hogwarts.

So, when you stared at Casey's beautiful face, you had no idea what to answer.

"He can't get better," you said, in tone way harsher than you were planning. Who knew that not speaking about a matter would make you feel more painful towards it?

Casey gulped — she was always like that: she would touch the wound, but she had no idea what to do about it later.

"Do you want me to write to my m..."

"No," you quickly answered, not even letting her finish. "I just need to graduate — then I'll deal with my dad."

"It will take longer while 'till graduation, y/n," Casey pointed out. She knew you were convincing yourself it was just a couple more months, but that was a terrible lie you no longer could satisfy yourself with.

Casey wanted to do something, but taking you out was all you allowed the girls to do to you. You hated the new club atmosphere of Three Broomsticks, but you had to admit, it was pretty distracting.

"Promise I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Promise," you said, before leaving your best friend alone in the hallway.

Snape's latest assignment stood before you, with a lot of notes from the Professor, pointing out all of your mistakes.

And there were a lot of them.

When class ended, you walked up to the Professor, gulping and shaking. You knew he didn't dislike you, but you were never too careful with Severus Snape.

"Professor, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yes?" he turned to face you; his black robe swirled with his movement.

"I just want to know if this essay was, hm, a big part of this year's grade?" you asked, avoiding looking in his dark eyes. "If so, can I do something else to improve my grade?"

He swallowed before answering, his serious tone implicating he didn't want to be having this conversation.

"You used to be my best student, Miss y/l/n, but this year you turned into the worse," he said, pausing in that terrible way only he knew. If your last year's grade hadn't been an Outstanding, I would have written you off my class by now."

You stared at Snape, unsure of what to do next and terrified of the man before you. He never treated you that way.

"Sorry to bother, Professor," you said, leaving right away, knowing very well that he had just ruined your rest of the day, including the night with your girls.

But what would you tell them? They would say that Snape was always like that. And even Casey, who was bloody smart, didn't have classes with Snape anymore. She would say for you to drop it too.

Your mind led your feet to the Moaning Myrtle's abandoned bathroom. There, your cry could be confused with hers by those who passed by. Thus, no one would disturb you.

The ghost wasn't even startled when she heard you come in, crying, and throw yourself on the floor near the sinks. Myrtle has seen you there since the school year started when you read your mother's first letter.

You usually went there at night, when you were sure you wouldn't see anyone. But after years of trusting Professor Snape — and believing that he would never mistreat you — what you heard today was the culmination.

When you decided you had cried enough, you headed out of the bathroom, holding your Potions (terrible) essay closer to your chest. You walked around the castle, but, perhaps, your eyes lost contact with your brain — the next thing you knew, you ran smack into Fred Weasley.

As if I needed more reasons for wanting to die.

You stumbled backwards, and your essay slipped from your arms, heading straight to the floor.

The ginger boy grasped you by both shoulders, his big hands catching you before you had the chance to slip over your own feet.

"Watch it," he said, steadying you.

You two were standing way too close to each other, and once again, you could smell his cheap cologne, this time it seemed to spread all over your body. Bloody hell, am I gonna smell like Weasley now? You shivered with disgust, but he misread it.

"Trouble standing up?" he joked, looking down at you with a cocky smirk.

He was really tall — you'd forgotten that, sitting next to him at the Three Broomsticks that night.

"Do I make you weak in the knees?"

Ignoring his stupid question, you knelt down to get the essay, and he did the same, grabbing it first. You forgot how to breathe for a second, hoping he wouldn't try to read it — and notice all the corrections Snape had made with permanent ink.

However, as soon as he grabbed it, he was handing it over to you.

You took it and brought it back closer to your chest, stepping away from him and his stupid perfume and stupid touch that sent weird and uncomfortable chills through your spine.

You were starting to walk away, leaving him behind when you heard:

"Thank you, Weasley," he attempted to copy your accent. "See you around, Weasley."

But you rolled your eyes and didn't even venture to look at him again.

How you managed to get out of your dorm and show up was all Jess and Casey's fault. If they hadn't been talking about you going out all week, and then Jess almost crying for you to appear, you would've rather very much stayed in bed.

You drummed your fingers on the wooden surface of the bar, your mind far away from the muggle music and your very dance-pants friends.

Your mind was tricking you in remembering about your father, something you were really trying to push away. Why hadn't you insisted on staying with Dad? Why hadn't you read mom's letters?

You kept imagining your dad, wallowing in his misery… alone. You wondered if at least your mom would visit him at St. Mungos. They were never the clingy type of couple, but maybe now she could be more sentimental.

But neither you were sentimental. So why now? Why care so much for your dad when he was never that much of an extraordinary parent?

"Evenin', Duffy."

Why did that nitwit have to sit next to you?

"Go away, Fred," you scolded, looking down at your fingers, playing with your empty mug.

"I can't, " he said. "First of all, the only reason you're here's that I taught you and your friends how to scape Hogwarts," you rolled your eyes while he continued, "besides, I'm not one to give up easily. I am set to snog one of your friends," he shrugged as if he was the biggest gentleman on Earth.

"Then go talk to the one," you suggested, not even turning to see his face.

"I would, but Fred Weasley doesn't chase girls. They chase him."

His sentence stayed in the air around as for a second before you burst in laughter. He couldn't be sober to say something like that. You faced him, finally, and confirmed — he very much had just arrived, so he wasn't drunk. He was just stupid.

Handsome, but stupid.

"Til they come to me, you get the honour of my company," he said, and then he took your mug away from your restless fingers. "Lucky for me, it doesn't look like you're armed with a beverage tonight."

You awaited for his laugh, but it never came.

"What is it with you today?"

"Already told you I'm not in the mood, Weasley," you reminded him.

"What's wrong?"

"Go...away," you warned, slowly.

You no longer good handle the tension burning inside you, it had to be released in some way, and it needed to be right then. But you didn't want to cry, not in front of a bunch of students partying, and there was no way you were going to vent with the dimwitted next to you, and punching someone would just get Rosmerta disappointed.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Fred asked, touching your shoulders carefully. He was forcing you to face him, even though he was being too gentle for his usual. "y/n?"

Then it was like your systems had stopped working — like a magic spell went wrong. Your only excuse is that you were under an unbelievable amount of stress, and you detected an exit.

You needed a distraction, and your chance was staring at you with sparkly eyes. Regret was the last thing you were thinking about.

An opportunity sat on the barstool beside you, and you lunged at it, literally.

You kissed Fred Weasley.

You grabbed him by polo neck of his red t-shirt, pulling him closer and locking your lips on his. He froze at first, but it didn't take him more than three seconds to understand what was happening, and the hand once on your shoulder was now on you cheeks.

Fred returned your urge, biting your lower lip, making his way inside your mouth with his tongue. Your hands left his neck and went to his hair, surprised to find soft hair.

His hands flew to your sides and pulled you toward him as if his hair was the secret to his horniness. As you wrapped your fingers in the strands of red hair, his fingertips dug into your waist.

It worked better than punching someone would have. Not only did it help you release the tension, but it distracted you. It's hard to think about your dad when you're making out with somebody.

He leaned into me, and I hauled at him so hard that Fred nearly fell off his bar stool. At that moment, both just couldn't get close enough to each other. Your separate seats seemed like they were miles apart.

Nothing existed, but the physical connection — there were no emotions in the way. It was amazing not to think. Nothing! Nothing… until he screwed it up.

His hand slid up from your waist, lingering along your back, and came to a stop around your boobs. Everything flooded back, and you suddenly remembered who had his lips on yours.

As fast as you jumped on him, you leaned away, taking your hands from his hair and shoving him away.

His hands dropped, one landing on your knee, as he pulled away. He looked astonished but weirdly pleased.

"Wow, Duff, that was—", but he never finished. You were already gone, running out of the bar and rushing to get to the secret passageway.

You didn't look back. If Fred followed, once you got to Hogwarts, he turned around.

When you reached your dorm and jumped on the bed, your heartbeat was impossible to keep track. You told yourself it was because of the run back to the school, but your mind was still playing flashes of the snogging session that had just happened.

It wasn't fair to remember his touch and how out of limits he was —good kisser, but still a jerk.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were madder at yourself than at him.

Two days.

That was the amount of time you managed to stay away from Fred Weasley since the little "incident".

One thing was for sure: it had numbed completely any stress your father situation was afflicting him. It had even made you forget about your recent bad grades.

Now, every time you got distracted, the only thought that filled your mind was a non-stop replay of the kiss you and Fred shared. It made you feel weirdly sick in the stomach, and you swore you could feel his disgusting touch as if it dirtied your body forever.

Jess and Casey didn't even bother arguing with you about leaving early that night — they felt guilty because they left you alone at the counter. Of course, you didn't tell them about the whole Weasley situation, but, even though Jess seemed clueless, Casey noticed your change in action.

How defensive you were towards their questions, more than usual. How you avoided spending too much time at the Great Hall.

So, when she purposely asked you to watch her Quidditch practice, you knew she was testing you. Perhaps Casey thought something worse was happening to your dad and if that was her bet, you wouldn't be the one to make her see the other side of the coin.

"Came to watch me play?" an annoying voice asked, calling your attention to your left where Fred Weasley stood flying up in his broom. His torso was tilted towards you, who was sitting in the stands.

One look was all you took for your mind to fill with disgusting memories, and your stomach was killing you once again. You faced back the field, where Casey was supposed to be practising, but, apparently, the thing was over because she and her teammates were nowhere to be found.

That explains the Gryffindor in his robes, you thought, sighing and gathering your things before getting up.

Fred was still staring at you, analyzing, expecting.

"I'm not here for you, Weasley," you spat.

Your temper surprised him, but he managed to recover before you could notice.

"What a pity," he sighed, letting the corner of his lips turn up. "I thought you wanted a second dose of fun."

You stared at him, with your angry issues burning up. If before kissing him he already had his ways of pissing you off, now it was like he was power was ten times stronger.

Your first thought was to hex him right there and then, but he wasn't worth that much worry.

"That wasn't fun, Weasley," you decided to state the obvious; something Fred seemed to have been having trouble understanding.

"You seemed very entertained twirling your fingers in my hair," he smirked, holding a chuckle while your eyes widened and you closed your fists.

"That was a mistake; I wasn't in my right mind," you said, clenching your teeth in rage. That boy was driving you crazy.

From behind him, you recognized Casey, walking on the field, already out of her Quidditch robes and holding her broom with just one hand. You knew that was your way out.

"Fine, blame it on the butterbeer," he sighed, "if it's what makes you sleep at night."

"What makes you think, Weasley," you paused, stepping closer to the end of the stands and closer to the ginger, "that I think about you at night?" you raised your tone involuntarily, letting your emotions get the best of you.

"Your body language, for one, Duff," Fred smirked again, feeling his win just because you were getting out of control.

Last time you were raged like that you had kissed him, so perhaps it could happen again.

But the nickname set you back. You were still bitter, but now you remembered why — it was because of that shallow nickname and that stupid boy.

You turned around and stepped away, to the end of the stands. You needed to get out of there as fast as you could.

"See you around too, Duff," you heard Fred shouted, but you didn't dare look back.

Casey met you at the end of the stairs, where a bunch of Gryffindors were crossing paths with the Ravenclaws leaving.

"Was that Fred Weasley? Talking to you?" was the first thing Casey asked when you were close to her enough to hear.

"Yep," you sighed, still tense because of your conversation.

"Godric! Is he hot in his Quidditch uniform!" she gasped, but different from you, she had that romantic, girly look on her face again. It made you wanna vomit.

"Please, Cass, you can find someone hotter than him," you protested, frowning.

"Someone hotter doesn't take Fred's hotness away," she argued, raising a brow towards you. She was messing with you, of course, but knowing it didn't make it easier. She didn't know about the kiss, so for all purposes' sake, she still thought you would never even touch him.

"Can't you just pine over — hmm, I don't — George Weasley, his twin?" you said, sarcastically. "If you think Fred's hot, George is too, and I'm pretty sure he's a better person."

"Too vanilla," she replied as if it proved her point.

"How would you know?" you asked, but couldn't help but burst in laughter with her, both very sure this conversation wasn't going anywhere.

Casey was right again. Not about George being vanilla — that you couldn't be sure, being that you had never talked to the chap. You couldn't manage to say more than three words to George, his presence always made you kinda weak in the knees.

But George didn't know about it, and neither did your best friends, and you intend in leaving thing at that. George was kind of your platonic crush, it was healthy to have one (probably), and he was never cross that line.

Funny, huh, how George made you feel starstruck, and Fred made you wanna kill yourself.

The thing Casey was right was about Fred being hot and charming. He was appearing more times than often in your mind, and for the rest of the week, he no longer popped as a replay of a kiss. Fred was appearing in your mind as new sexy scenarios, things a deep part of you wanted to experiment. And apparently, with him. Yikes.

You tried to convince yourself that those scenarios were with George (had happened before) but, at this point, you knew how to differentiate the two very well. And, deep down, you knew who was the ginger biting your neck and intertwining his legs in yours.

And that infuriated your guts.

"You did that for what?"

Your question echoed to the Great Hall, with a dozen of heads turning to what the little show you were putting on.

It was not your intention to make a scene, but, at that moment, you were more enraged than you'd ever been your whole life. Casey was your best friend, and you knew sometimes she was bold for the greater good, but you doubted that doing what she did was for the greater good.

Because you were feeling like shit.

She had intercepted your owl with your mom's letter about your father's condition. Casey had observed that you were ignoring your mom's messages — last night she went to your dorm room with Jess for a girls night, and ended up finding accidentally a box packed with the parchments unopen.

So she planned on getting your owl before it dropped its letter over you and she managed to sit next to you and starting reading it aloud, without telling you what she was reading.

It was only when she got to the second line of the thing — "they say they are doing everything they can and they don't want to raise our hopes, because his chance of recovery is almost none"— that you realized that it was your mom's words.

You got so angry as never before, shouting at Casey to shut up, and without overthinking, you cast a fire spell on the thing. Thankfully she dropped the parchment before it burned her hands, but that doesn't mean that she didn't get angry at you too.

Jess watched and came closer, trying to find words to say, but she didn't know what was happening and she didn't want to side with anyone.

You felt the urge to cry, but, not in hell, you were doing it in front of the whole school. You gathered your bag and ran out of that place, not looking back — even though Casey was screaming "I'm sorry", and Jessica was asking you to wait.

"Hey, wait up," a voice called, this time it didn't belong to a girl.

You froze at your spot, your feet slowly turning to face the boy following you in the empty hallway. Traitors, you wanted to say to your feet.

"Not now, Weasley," you said, trying hard to look away, but once his dark eyes met yours, you just couldn't bring yourself to walk away.

"Then, when? You need to talk," he pointed out, taking his hands out of his pockets, not yet breaking the eye contact. It was like he knew that he looking at you was the only thing keeping you there.

"You heard the show, huh."

"Just saw you, angrily walking away," he said while you nervously grabbed your bag's handle. "Thankfully, there was no butterbeer in your hands."

His attempt to joke went not as smoothly as he expected. You faced your shoes, biting your lip with the stupid idea that popped in your mind. You knew what you planned wasn't right.

But when he stepped towards you, it felt natural.

"Just shut up, Weasley," you said, before getting on your tiptoes and leaning in to kiss him.

He was surprised, again, but this time he was quick to respond and somehow smarter — he grabbed your waist and guided you to a door that only he knew existed in that hallway.

It was a broom closet, probably the brooms first-years use to train flying.

This time there was no inhibition. Fred's mouth in yours was not going to be enough to forget you fighting with Casey and your mom's words about your dad. You needed more. Thankfully, Fred Weasley was more than pleased to serve, fastly taking your white shirt off while you unbuttoned his pants.

"Are you sure of this, Duff?" he asked before pulling your black skirt up.

"I said shut up, Weasley," you reminded him, in a bossy tone. And in case he tried to open his mouth again, you locked it with yours.

Things were worse than ever before.

After Casey's episode, you hadn't talked to her ever since. She tried, the first few days, but she saw you were ignoring her and with time, she gave up. Jess attempted to convince you to talk to Casey, and for that, you started ignoring Jess too.

Your grades weren't getting better any time soon — Professor Snape was now no longer the only one complaining to you about it. Thankfully, the other Professors were more understanding about it than Severus — the school knew about your father situation.

Oh, yeah. About your parents: since Casey attempt to read you a letter, you haven't touched one yet. And you weren't going to do it anytime soon.

The only person you were hanging out with — by Merlin, you never thought that would happen — was Fred Weasley.

It was easygoing with him because there wasn't much talking to do. He knew better than to ask you anything related to your personal life — even though he tried, a lot.

You two would meet primarily at the Room of Requirement — it usually provided a bed for you, so that was more comfortable than any broom closet. If he ever attempted to make conversation, you'd shut him up with your lips and locking your fingers in his hair — that was his soft spot for sure.

You noticed he was trying to be your friend, more than just a hookup because he was lately scheduling your meetings in places where more people were around — therefore you couldn't just kiss him.

Today, you two were meeting after his Quidditch practice. In his defence, you had indeed mentioned how hot after-trainings sex could be, and that was, probably, where he got the idea.

You were waiting for him in the ground leaned in the entrance to the stairs to the stands, laughing with yourself, because, not long ago, when he mentioned you waiting for him at the Quidditch field, you thought the idea was absurd.

"There he is," you said, placing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, walking side by side with a just showered Fred Weasley.

"You came."

"You said for me to come," you replied, tilting your head towards him and chuckling. It wasn't like you and any other places to be, but he didn't need to know.

"Hey, Fred, what are we..." started George, rushing to Fred's side and gasping at the notice of you. "Oh, hey, y/n."

So nice to have a Weasley calling you by your name instead of the stupid "duff" thing Fred seemed to love.

But that was George — the George Weasley — and all you managed to do was blush and nervously say hello back.

"Well, brother, got do something with y/n first, but, later, we can..."

"— don't bother with me! I'm sure we can hang out the three of us," you interrupted Fred, glad this time you didn't stutter.

Fred practically spat out a laugh, looking at you like you were crazy. "We? With my own twin?"

You pushed Fred by the shoulder, disgusted by the bullshit he had suggested.

"We can change our plans," you elaborated. "That's what I meant, Fred."

George's eyes went from you to Fred, not sure of what to say next. He didn't know what was going on between the two of you — you'd threatened Fred that you'd kill the whole Weasley family if he decided to say something.

"Are you sure? Fred and I can do the prank later."

"It's a prank? Then count me in!" you smiled, pushing Fred's shoulder again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

There was one exact reason why Fred didn't tell you — it's because you weren't interested, especially in personal stuff and principally in pranks.

"Wow, y/n, I reckon I've never seen you so excited," George commented, smiling.

The three of you started walking away from the Quidditch field while Fred mumbled something about him being the reason for your excitement — for that you replied with pinching his left arm.

You had never laughed so hard in your life. Fred, George and you were sitting on the floor of the empty library, leaning your backs against a dusty shelf in the dark corner of the room.

"Did you see his face?" George giggled, placing a hand over his chest where his heart was beating extra fast.

All of the hearts there were beating fast.

It was almost midnight, and by the school rules, you three should be in bed, but the amount of enthusiasm you were feeling was convincing you being a reckless student wasn't so bad.

You were sitting in the middle of the twins, your hands tossed on the floor — the left one just a couple of centimetres away from Fred's. He was watching you, paying very close attention at how the red slowly painted your face back, since it had been white because of all the running from Filch to not get caught.

"Thanks for tagging me along," you said, with a small smile, looking at George.

"Anytime," George said, thinking it was the right thing to do. "You're fun to be around. I see why you wanted to hang out with her, Freddie."

You would've teased Fred about the silly nickname if it wasn't gonna ruin the beautiful moment you and George were having.

Fred watched his twin and you, giggling with each other, talking about random funny stuff related to Argo Filch, but he couldn't hear the conversation quite well. He could only focus on how you were leaning towards George, and how, involuntarily, your hand ran away from his.

"Well, chaps, I've gotta keep going," George announced, getting up and shaking the dust out of his clothes. You pouted, saddened by the departure of your favourite twin.

Fred didn't even breathe, scared that would make his brother want to stay. It wasn't like he was addicted to you — Godric, no! — but he was really looking forward to spending some time with you. Just with you.

"So soon?" you replied, noticing that one prank and you now could speak perfectly well with George. You had no idea why it became uncomplicated, but spending time with him only made you notice what you already knew — he's very different from Fred. "See you later, then."

"See ya," George then turned around and walked out of the library, making sure he wasn't being heard.

As soon as George was away, Fred turned to you, using his hand to bring you face towards him. You allowed it, not really having much choice when he touched you like that.

"Why did want to prank with us?" he asked, looking straight into your eyes.

You shrugged, saying nothing. But something in your expression — maybe the quick thought of George — gave you away.

"George," Fred sighed, surprisingly angry, but not enough for you to notice. His hand fell from your face to his side. "You like him."

"Puff! What? No. What?"

Yeah, your reaction wasn't the best. But Fred shrugged, letting his jealous side hide and acting like a jerk because it was so much easier than caring.

"Are you only with me because I look like him?" he asked, making sure his tone sounded like he was playing with you instead of really curious.

"No!" you replied, faster than you expected. "First of all, I'm not with you. Secondly, no, Freddie," — you used the nickname to mess with him — "I didn't pick you because of George. I picked you because you were there."

Fred stayed in silence, absorbing your answer.

You were suddenly lost in your thoughts, remembering that first kiss not so long ago. And then you remembered all of those lonely nights at the Three Broomsticks, where your only companies were Rosmerta and... Fred.

"You are always there."

"Yeah," Fred sighed, not sure of what you meant with that. However, he was still in jerk mode, and for that, his hand flew back to touch you, this time choosing more sensitive regions, like your belly, particularly, above the waistband of your jeans, a place that Fred had already learned to be one of your weak spots. "So, is now when you're doing what we had scheduled to do?"

You turned to face him, making it easier for him to reach your abdomen.

"Do you only think about that?"

He pretended to be thoughtful.

"Yes."

It came as a hell of a surprise when you were called to the Headmaster's office. You had been doing nothing — aside from escapades with Fred, and trying to get back to your studies, you haven't been doing much — so you didn't stall to see why they needed you.

You were even more surprised when the person awaiting fro you in the office was your mom.

"Hi, sweetie," she tried to smile but failed.

You didn't move since you opened the door and saw her, because her visit probably meant something you didn't want to be true.

"Is he dead?"

"What, sweetie? What did you say?" she asked.

"Dad. Is he...?" you whispered again, not brave enough to say it too loud.

"Oh, Merlin, no! That's why I'm here, actually. He called for you yesterday," she explained, stepping closer to you since you haven't been moving. "I sent you a letter, but you didn't reply, and I was so anxious..."

"Father called me? He said my name?" you were shocked because last time you saw him, he had no idea who you were.

"Yes, sweetie. I guess he remembers you," she smiled. "And me," she added.

"Can I see him?" you were fighting tears at this point.

"Of course, sweetie! That's why I'm here," she smiled, and opened her arms, knowing very well that all you wanted to do was bury your face on her chest, just like when you were little and scared. But this time, all you felt was happiness.

Returning to Hogwarts was hard. Not because you were sad — Merlin, that had been your best weekend ever! You father was almost completely recovered, although now and then he was saying some gibberish.

It was hard to come back because you wished you'd stayed longer with your dad, but your mom knew you needed to finish your school year before anything else.

A conversation that you had with your father kept replaying in your mind since you walked in the school. It was before you left when he encouraged you to enjoy your life because he wished he had enjoyed his more — especially when he thought he was dying, having Death Eaters play with his mind.

So when you saw George in the hallway, you knew you had to do something about your whole starstruck situation.

"Hey!" you called him.

"Hi, y/n," he faced you, a smile appearing in his lips. "Haven't seen you all weekend."

"I had to be away. Dad's stuff," you really didn't want to tell him about it right there. "Anyway... I don't know how to say this, but I've been feeling incredibly confident lately, so here it goes... Would you like to go on a date with me?"

You had no idea how you manage to say it. Perhaps pranking someone together does change a person, but while you waited for his reply, George didn't seem so hard to talk to.

"You want to go out... with me?" he played with his hair while saying it.

"Yep," you gulped, suddenly regretting you recently discovered confidence.

"Okay," he frowned for a second before smiling lightly. "Three Broomsticks, Wednesday?"

"Perfect. See you there?"

He shook his head in response, then turned and walked away. You stayed there, expecting a wave of happiness to come, but it never did. That's odd, you thought, before heading to your dorm, which, weirdly enough, you had missed.

When you pushed the door open, you saw the two figures sitting on your bed, as if they had been waiting for you for a long time. Jess and Casey looked at you as you walked n, with sympathetic smiles on their faces.

"What are you two doing here?" you asked, but you weren't mad. Just curious.

You had missed them too.

"I'm here to apologize. Should've done it sooner, but you didn't allow me," said Casey, getting up and stepping closer to you. "I now know your father is better, but you were right, that letter could have something horrible written on it and had no right reading it."

You stared at her, unconsciously reaching for her hand, anxious to meet her hot touch again. You were still happy, of course, but that talk made you bit sentimental.

"I'm sorry, y/n," she said, allowing you to hug her and hugging you back in the way only she knew how. Jess jumped out of bed and embraced the two of you; although you couldn't see her face, you'd bet she was smiling and crying at the same time.

The three of you stayed like that for a while.

"But, thank Merlin, he's okay now," Casey continued, slowly pulling away from the group hug.

"How do you..."

"Fred told us," said Jess, sitting back on your bed and suggesting you two did the same.

"Fred? Fred Weasley? How did he know?" you were completely startled.

"He asked about you. The three of us were confused because, well, he was right, nobody had seen you," Jess explained. "Long story short, McGonagall told him about your dad, and he told us."

You gulped, taking in that new information. Fred worried about you, that was new. Well, you did leave with no warning, but for a not-a-friend with benefits, you never consider he would care if you disappeared.

"Did he say anything else?" you rounded, suddenly worried he could have told them about your little escapades.

"Should him? Your father is okay, right?" Casey entered a worried-mom mood, and Jess seemed to be concerned too.

"My father is getting better, yes," you replied, but now it was too late. They were curious, you sighed, knowing very well that, as your best friends, they had all the right to know what was going on. "I may — or may not — have started a no-strings-attached relationship with Fred Weasley."

"You did what??" Casey widened her eyes towards you.

You spend half an hour explaining to the girls what was going on in your sex life, and they were good listeners, never interrupting unless you paused. You missed those girly talks so much that you wondered how you managed to spend weeks not talking to them.

"Wait. But your date for Wednesday is George?" asked Jess, clearly confused with the end of your story.

"I never had the guts before," you said, remembering how only the idea of asking George out would've made you weak in the knees a year ago.

"But you like Fred," she stated, convinced she was correct.

"What? No. Why did you...? Merlin, no," you rambled. You thought you had made it clear that being around Fred longer than necessary made your stomach sick and everything.

Jess and Casey exchanged looks as if they knew something you didn't.

"Fred's repugnant. He still calls me Duff, can you believe it? I mean, 'hello, honey, if I'm such the disgusting, ugly friend, why do you sleep with me?' " you said, laughing with yourself, imagining you facing Fred and telling him that. But the girls kept with their suspicious stares. "I did explain what is Duff, right?"

"You did," said Casey.

"Still not convinced you don't like Fred, though," added Jess, raising a brow towards you.

"I don't! Besides, now, I don't need him. I'm going on a date with his brother, and my father is fine. I have no worries," you reminded them, getting up from your bed. "Well, maybe one problem. I still need better grades."

"That I can help," said Casey, allowing her nerdy Ravenclaw shine.

You tried to corner Fred the whole Tuesday, but he seemed to be nowhere to be found, until after dinner, when you approached him when he was leaving. Thankfully, he was alone.

"So you are back," he said, looking you up and down in that way that only he knew. You looked around the hallway, scared that students leaving the Great Hall could hear you two talking, so you gesticulated for him to follow you to the broom closet — coincidently, where it all started was going to be its end too.

"Fred, we need to talk," you said, closing the door behind you and trying to find the light switch.

"You finally realized?" he sounded hopeful, with a playful smile on his lips.

"Realized what?"

He was set back with your response. Fred was thinking of something else when he asked you that, but he wasn't going to let you win. Although you really didn't have any idea what he was talking about.

"Realized you can't live without me."

"HA! Very funny, Weasley," you said, rolling your eyes.

He stepped closer to you, expecting you to do what you generally did in that closet, and, even though, his perfume made you lose your senses for a second (that didn't use to happen before, did it?).

"Well, I brought you here because... You see, we aren't doing this anymore," you swallowed after saying it — it was as if a knife was held in your neck.

He leaned in, looking down at you. His playful smile was long gone.

"You want to do it the right way. I get it," he said, pressing his lips together for a pause. "We could just jump to the fun part."

"Fun part? There isn't a...", but you weren't able to finish. His lips met yours mid-phrase, and as usual, you couldn't care about anything else but his lips.

What was the thing I need to tell him? Never mind now.

Your hands were playing with his hair, but something was different this time. There was still an urge — one that shouldn't be there, giving that you had no problems to forget right now — but you two were acting slowly, appreciating every touch.

When with Fred, you never felt ashamed of your body, but somehow this time you were very self-conscious, afraid that he wouldn't like you. Which was stupid — he had been... with you for too long to now started caring about your form.

What you didn't know what was that, if anything, he was finding you even more beautiful tonight, with the weak light of the closet highlighting every gorgeous curve of your body.

While you two undressed (with his lips away from yours), you were able to remember you shouldn't be there, snogging him and well, about to do other things with him. You had gone there to end this thing.

You sighed, too perplexed at the view of the ginger boy's body. The light was also highlighting his best spots.

A good-bye, you concluded with yourself. You were allowing yourself one last night, before staying away from Fred.

And if it was going to be a good-bye, you were sure you wanted to make it the best yet.

When you asked George out, he had been puzzled, and really scared of what to do next.

You had never jumbled him with Fred before — and after spending so much time with his twin doing Merlin knows what he expected you to never do it.

He thought it was rather cute that you took the first step and asked Fred out. Well, you did confuse the twin, but George assumed you probably were too nervous with your own feelings.

So using his best "hey, brother, this is gonna sound funny" voice, he went to find Fred to tell him that he had a date with the girl he had pining over for the last month.

George had never seen Fred say no to other girls, neither had George seen Fred stay in the castle for a Friday night, then a skip a Hogsmeade trip. You had changed Fred, even though George was sure Fred had not noticed it yet.

"What is it, George?" Fred asked, anxious to leave and meet you, no matter where you could be. He had heard that you had just got back in the castle and he just... he wanted to make sure you were alright.

"y/n, she... well," George nervously giggled. "She mixed us. She thought I was you."

"Really?" Fred was not expecting at this stage for you to mix him with his brother.

"Yeah, and hm, this is funny," George gulped before continuing. "I think she asked you out. On a date."

"She what??"

"Yeah, I guess she was on a rush, because of her father, and she said something about feeling confident," George went on. "Anyway, I said yes because I knew you'd have said yes. It's Wednesday. At the Three Broomsticks."

Fred stared at his brother as if he had solved all the problems in the world.

"She really did that?"

George shook his head yes and pointed out: "Don't mention she mixed us. It will probably make her feel worse."

"Are you sure she thought you were me?" Fred asked, overthinking it.

"Well, of course. Why else would y/n ask me out?"

You had to borrow a foundation from Jess (your skin tones were not so similar, but it was enough) because on the last night, Fred had exaggerated a little.

He never left a mark on his body, but yesterday he had overcome himself. As the brush rubbed the foundation on your neck, you remembered the night before.

"You are mine, Duff," he said, between one hickey and another. "Just mine."

Unintentionally, you lost yourself in thought, your mind continuing its replay from the night before, as you brushed your sensitive skin.

"Only I can make you feel this way; only my touch makes you shiver," whispered Fred, and incredibly, it was true. But he was Fred, and it couldn't go on.

So when it was over, and you both were too tired, you got dressed and stared at him, knowing what was coming next.

"Thank you, Fred, seriously. For everything," he watched you as you gulped nervously. "But this really can't go on. I have a date tomorrow."

"I know."

You were about to leave, but you immediately turned, facing him with wide eyes.

"You asked George out. I know," he seemed sad. And you have never seen Fred sad before. You wanted to do something, but what could you do really?

"Fred, I..."

"Look, you had your good-bye, y/n. You can get out now," Fred said. "Go hide. It's what you do, right?"

"Hey, don't turn this on me!"

"Somehow, this is my fault?" Fred asked while putting on his pants. Although angry, he didn't seem scary. "What you want me to do, y/n? I'm the jackass womanizer, aren't I? Go get the better twin."

"Fred Weasley!" you shouted his name, trying to shut him up. "We were never a couple; don't act as if you care now! Don't act like you're jealous!"

"Why? Because I can't be jealous of you? I can't care about you?" he shouted back.

"Care about me? You call me Duff, Weasley. All the damn time! How am I supposed to know you care about me if you keep reminding me how ugly, fat and disgusting I am?"

Silence fell upon the two of you.

That was the knife in your neck all along. The stupid nickname, it all came back to it. Fred had no idea how much power that nickname had over you.

"I never meant it that way, y/n," he said, gulping slowly.

"No?" you asked sarcastically. "Really? I remember you telling me I have hotter friends."

"But that was before!" he protested.

"Before what?" you asked, but his reply never came. The words he couldn't say died in his chest — buried forever. "See you around, Weasley, " you said, before opening the door and leaving, without looking back.

You shook your head, slowly coming back to reality. The hickeys were enough hidden. It didn't look perfect, but the Three Broomsticks had terrible lighting, so it would be okay.

You wanted to stay in, curled up in bed, playing in repeat your good-bye, and blame yourself for that sadness in your chest, but you were too embarrassed to dump George.

The place was crowded — Hogwarts older students were practically all there, having the time of their lives on the dance floor. You wished George could never find you, so you went to the counter to hide behind a mug of butterbeer.

"Hey there, pretty," said Madam Rosmerta, who have missed you all those nights without you. "Butterbeer?"

"You know it," you said, about to throw her a coin when someone pressed a hand on your shoulder.

"Make it two," he said, and he didn't even need to speak to you know who it was. That cheap perfume was going to be the death of you. "It's on me," he told you, tossing his own coin to Rosmerta who disappeared to get the mugs.

"He's not coming," he added a second later, hating the silence around you two.

"I figured it. When I saw you," you explained, gulping.

Rosmerta brought two mugs back, and both of you took a sip from it, unsure of what to say next.

It wasn't like you two fought last night because you hated each other. In fact, it was probably the complete opposite, but both looked like stupid cowards, afraid of your own feelings.

"Look, I..." he started, but you interrupted him, placing your hand on his arm over the counter.

"Let me say this first," you said, locking your eyes on his. "I shouldn't have asked your twin out. Even if we were just friends; what I did was a jerk move."

"You liked him first," Fred pointed out, trying to defend you from yourself.

You chuckled. "Oh, Merlin, no. I thought he had a pretty face," you explained, tilting your head towards him, and he understood your joke right away, joining in the laughter. "And he seemed like a nice guy. Like, huh, I thought he could treat me nicely," you looked away from his big eyes, facing the shelves with liquor.

"But?"

"What?" you asked him, turning to face him once again.

"I feel like there was a 'but'."

You smiled.

"But you also have a pretty face, and recently, you've come to treat me nice too," you said, and he pressed his lips together while slowly shaking his head up and down. "Well, actually, if it's just between you and me, your face is prettier."

He raised his brows. "Is it?"

"And your body too," you added, just to make him smile.

"Is mine bigger?" he asked, back to his normal joker self.

You pushed him lightly by the shoulder, not hard enough for him to fall off the stool.

"Never saw his, sorry," you decided to tease, and you both giggled.

"I'm sorry. About the Duff thing and all," he said, swallowing. "I kept the nickname because I thought it was cute. If I knew it bothered you so much, I'd have stopped. And I wouldn't have used it during sex."

"I'm okay with it now, I guess," you said. "It wasn't that bad hearing it during sex if I'm honest."

You tilted your head to the left, biting your tongue to not laugh because it was not funny. But Fred just had a way to ease your mood.

You thought silence was going to hunt you two again when Fred spoke.

"Is this the part where you admit you have feelings for me?" he smirked, placing his hands on your knees, relaxing you even more.

"Maybe," you chuckled. "Is this the part where you admit you have feelings for me?"

"Yes," he said, surprising you. "I have feelings for you."

"Well, I have feelings for you too, Freddie," you smiled, passing your fingers through his strong arms.

"You're not gonna forget that nickname, are you?" he faced away while asking.

"Nope."

"Fine by me, Duff," he replied, messing with you too. He then leaned closer, pressing his lips on yours, and it didn't take long for his hands to find your waist and bring you as closer to him as the stools allowed.

"But we are going slower this time, Weasley," you warned, parting your lips for just a second.

He smiled in the kiss.

"It's always better that way," he replied, probably remembering the soft, slow sex from last night because you were sure remembering that too.

You slapped his arm just strong enough for him to pout, but you kept kissing him anyway. When you two kissed, nothing else mattered— it was only the two of you in the world.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley #Fred and George Weasley #Fred and George #george weasley x reader #harry potter #the duff

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testingcheats0n · 3 years

Text

Detroit Become Human AU where:

-> Tommy is an up-and-coming livestreamer of the retro game Minecraft- forming part of a fledgling community of all-human players of the game. His growth is slow but steady and he has a future in a genre that had fallen out of fashion with the rise of the newest and more immersive VR games on the market. People love to see an actual human that could make mistakes and win against another fellow human fairly. The nostalgia it brought to some people is also undeniably at play.

It's worth noting that Tommy is a very lonely kid, with a non-existent social life since he and his family had to move to America after his father struck a lucrative business deal with his brilliant protege.

-> Wilbur, Tommy's older brother and only guardian after their father, Phil, dedicated his life to the creation of androids with his young but brilliant pupil Elijah Kamski, is a simple busker. It's hard to find a job at 24 with no previous experience or further education, he had to take care of Tommy, after all. True, their economic troubles never ended, and he could barely provide for Tommy, but at least they had each other, even if Wilbur was off to the streets of Detroit more often than not. He has no idea of his younger brother's blooming career in the gaming industry and is very worried about his future. The solution? A very suspicious android his best friend Schlatt offers for very cheap.

-> Phil Watson is a household name together with Elijah Kamski's, they created one of humanity's greatest tools, after all. Nothing suspicious here, they're definitely not hiding any potential deviancies from the code! In any case, his family never saw a dime of the frankly insane amount of money piling up in his bank account. He has an old phone he carries in his pocket every day with Wilbur's phone number, but he never dares to call it despite RN800, his assistant's, insistence that he was only making his own life harder. He is going to dial that phone number someday. Surely.

-> TU880 is an android from an old companion/educational line, discontinued after a few notable bugs and glitches in their core programming. Nothing serious, or life-threatening, but many customers have complained about disturbing behavior that falls straight into the uncanny valley- he's too human. Schlatt, his previous owner, refuses to disclose where he got TU880 from, nor does he have any legal documentation to prove he is his owner. Wilbur, desperate to find a solution for Tommy's perceived loneliness pays the fifty bucks his old pal asks for the android without asking any questions. It's weird for an adult to go around with a teen model created to counsel adolescents and help them with their homework. TU880 had problems with reading his grocery list, anyway.

-> Tommy is a bit weirded out, he thrives in an internet community which openly despises anything android, but his good friend Technoblade has plenty of useful advice, from maitenance to behavior. TU880 is odd, which he discards as kinks and bugs of the older models, but they get along nicely once TU880's programming kicks in. He likes to help Tommy edit his videos and speak about the problems of adolescence, he is oddly fond of bees or anything small and defenceless and likes to tell his 'dreams' of scientists in labcoats and other kids like him stuck in experiments. Tommy listens with half an ear, TU880 is his friend, after all. He thinks nothing of it.

-> It all becomes a bit too much when TU880 accidentally appears on camera during one of Tommy's streams. People assume he's Tommy's brother, and insist on getting an introduction. TU880 is ecstatic, but from what Tommy's told him, revealing his artificial status might harm his friend's career so he greets the chat as Toby, Tommy's older brother. The community goes wild and Tommy has to pretend that TU880 is his brother (which isn't that terrible per-se) and not the house assistant who has a complete psychological profile of him.

-> TU880 begins to feel strange, both regarding Tommy and his own place in the household. Calling Tommy hus brother is easy as calculus and makes his thirium pump skip a few beats, but he's not sure if he should be getting this attached. He's sure he is malfunctioning in some way, but Schlatt always assured him that he is fine. He thinks nothing of it and instead continues to watch over Tommy.

-> Minecraft is fun, and he eventually gets his own account on Wilbur's old (read: ancient) laptop despite possessing an internal processor powerful enough to play the game at its maximum capacity in his mind, and probably in a 3D holoprojector. At this point, he's in too deep and the friends he's making would certainly ask questions if he were to disappear. He has the opportunity to talk about anything at all to his growing audience, and the community is very welcoming in general once one integrates into their culture. He still doesn't feel it's fair to participate in the tournaments and all the other official competitions. People find it odd, but they assume he's not very good at PVP so no one tends to comment on it for now. It's okay though, he and his new friend Ranboo act as commentators during the events and everyone thinks they're pretty funny.

-> Ranboo is fun to be around. He just gets TU880- or as the internet knows him as, Tubbo. They click easily, sometimes the other boy seems just as confused about other people's reactions and behavior as Tubbo is (despite his in-depth knowledge of psychology. He's not quite connected to Cyberlife's database anymore and his learning algorithm is outdated at best.) and they like to spend their afternoons with Tommy, watching movies. The game overtakes their lives and they spend a lot of time playing privately with the best strategies Tubbo's advanced algorithms and Ranboo's sheer brilliancy can create. That's how they meet their friend Fundy, who is more than happy to keep their Technical Minecraft server a secret, as long as he gets to do his own thing with coding and they test it.

-> Tommy is just happy that he can use the cool farms for his own grinding.

-> Technoblade is Tommy's mysterious internet friend and fellow growing streamer. Everyone is sure that he's an android infiltrating the budding community, but after several years of isolated incidents, investigations, and online scandals no one was able to prove anything. Technoblade just never dies. (Tommy is 50% sure his friend is really an android, the older man simply refuses to comment). It is possible to spend months farming digital potatoes, people are just mean and want drama. Technoblade is just vibing. Incidentally, he's also the first one to figure out that Ranboo and Tubbo are androids. He is also the first one to figure out they're deviants. He doesn't mention it until much later though.

-> Jack and Niki Manifold have successfully founded their own mechanic business for android repairs. Cyberlife mumbled and grumbled at the siblings' repair shop, but in the end it was good for PR so they let them be. Tommy and Wilbur become their friends as TU880's frequent malfunctions inevitably bring the pair to the cheapest android repair service in the city. TU880 can't complain, Niki is sweet to him and understands what is wrong with him just by his description, since his diagnostics aren't working entirely and each an every single one of Jack's repairs last loner than every other mechanic he's been to.

-> Gradually, Tommy's fame becomes apparent, and Wilbur has the time to actually rest and spend time with his brother. He's just happy that they can be together. A weight is lifted off his shoulders and for the first time ever he feels like his little family has a future. Not even once does it pass through his mind that TU880 isn't acting like a typical android- he avoided the things on principle. Once, TU880 calls him his brother and he cries.

-> Sam is Cyberlife's very own private investigator. He is in charge of researching and turning in possible deviants that might help the company with developing a solution for the rising problem. In particular, he's been after the trail of a specific line of androids, the first one released by Kamski and Watson dubbed as TU. According to his investigations the line might have contained the code responsible for deviancy. Further research indicated that Kamski's code was based on a group project from the Dutch university for cibernetics.

-> Fundy is just a 21 y/o with a Twitch account and a passing interest in coding. Nothing serious, nothing suspicious. He absolutely wasn't part of the early AI coding trials that Kamski would later on use as the basis for his own code. If someone asks, he has no idea what ra9 means. He is almost sure that his friends are androids, the thought makes him very happy.

-> Puffy is Phil's new psychologist. Need I say more? Eventual Hurt/comfort baby!!!

#dream smp #detroid become human #crossover/au #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #dream smp au

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vanderlustwords · 4 years

Text

Under the Sheets

(not my gif)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 9) There’s only one bed, and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling

Requester: Anonymous

Summary: Bucky spends more time out of his dorm than in it with how much his roommate amorously makes love to his girlfriend. Luckily, his cute across-the-hall neighbor is generous about lending her place to him. Bucky’s unsure if he wants to hug or kiss his roommate for putting him in the situation he is in now.

Note: Thank you for sending this in! :) This trope is the OG.

Count: 3948

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You would say that every meeting you've had with James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes is always a series of unfortunate events.

The first time was when you were locked outside of your dorm room because you're an idiot without a roommate. Since it wasn't your first incident, you were very reluctant to call the campus security guard to let you in. You're pretty sure he hates you.

Luckily, across the hall, you had some new neighbors.

"You must be James-"

"Bucky, please," he offers you an easy, charming smile.

"Bucky, nice to meet you," you smiled back.

You had been standing outside your door for quite sometime when Bucky came back, explaining how Steve was out with his girlfriend. As it would be, Bucky knew how to pick a locked door open. You only got a laugh when you asked him about such questionable skills he had.

The next time you met Bucky was when you spilled your grocery bags all over the floor before entering into your building. Bucky seemed to just arrive home from his afternoon classes.

"This is so embarrassing," you muttered with flushed cheeks as Bucky helped you pick everything up.

"Well, no use crying over spilled milk."

"I haven't bought milk," you joked, causing him to laugh. Bucky had helped you carry your groceries in.

"No roommate?" He looked around the place, seeing how the extra room you had turned into a study room.

"Nope! Well, I mean, I had one earlier in the year, but she moved out after 3 months to transfer to another university. They didn't assign me with anyone else."

"Lucky," Bucky sighed.

"Roommate problems?" You raised your brow. You had come to know that Bucky and Steve have been friends since they were in diapers, now seemingly grown and going to university together too.

It seemed hard to believe the two friends would not like rooming together.

"Not problems, per se," Bucky licked his lips. "Just Steve likes to bring Peggy over a lot, and she stays the night often. I guess her roommate is kind of a psychopath."

You nodded slowly and understandingly. It was probably difficult to get studying done or sleep with hearing your roommate fuck at night.

"Well," you offer him a nervous smile, "you are always welcome here if you need the space to study."

"Thanks, doll."

It seems after that, Bucky took your offer quite seriously. Over the next few weeks, he would show up to your place in the evening needing some quiet to work on his papers and upcoming tests.

You certainly didn't mind the company, sometimes having the place to yourself could be a little lonely when everyone else had their roommates to hang out with.

It was almost kind of nice—an easy friendship brewing between the two of you.

The thought of dating never really crossed your mind because you weren't ignorant of the fact that Bucky was wildly popular across campus. Steve was too, but Peggy Carter was also wildly popular herself, making them a dream couple.

So, all sorts of people were trying to put themselves on Bucky's radar.

And, well, you were just you.

You were just flittering through your university life. You had friends, of course, game nights were on Friday, and went out on the occasional weekend to drink.

Really, the only time you got to spend time with Bucky was within your dorm building.

"I brought takeout!" Bucky holds up thick bags with food. You can smell the contents right away and smile.

"Thai food?" You smile, hopeful, in case you're somehow wrong.

Bucky grins at you as you let him in. He puts the bags on the counter, and you help him take the things out.

"Yeah, I saw you staring at their building while I was on the way to class the other day," he laughs. "How long did you stand there?"

You felt your cheeks warm at being caught by someone.

"Only ten minutes," you mumble.

Bucky licks his tongue against his bottom lip, smiling at you as he takes a seat.

You moan, almost a little inappropriately when you take your first bite.

"God, it's been way too long," you sigh happily as you munch away.

Bucky laughs, "For someone who likes Thai food so much, I don't see you eat it too often."

You shrug. "Thai food is one of those things where there's a lot of dishes that are shared. My friends, unfortunately, don't share my love for Thai food."

"Blasphemous!" Bucky gasps dramatically and jokingly, but you follow along with a firm nod.

"That's what I've been saying!"

Bucky grins. "Alright, how about your boyfriend?"

You roll your head over to Bucky with a look. "I think as often as you spend here, you should know by now I don't have one."

"Just checking," Bucky shrugs. "Any particular reason why?"

You quirk your brow at him. "Well, I'll tell you if you tell me why you haven't got a girl. Lord knows you don't have a shortage of options."

Bucky chuckles as he looks at you, scooping more food into your mouth. His eyes soften for just a moment.

"Just waiting on the right girl is all," he says, looking back at his food when you look up at him.

"Ah, then we're two peas in a pod," you smile, "I'm also waiting for the right person, and unfortunately, the only guys on my roster right now are frat boys."

You scrunch your face a little, and Bucky lets out a burst of laughter at your expression.

"Any particular reason for that?" He asks.

"One of my friends is in a sorority," you sigh. "She thinks she can get me to join if she shoves hot guys my way. I'm actually going to get dragged to a party on Saturday."

"Well," Bucky licks his lip, "is it working?"

"Not even in the slightest," you smirk.

Bucky grins.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

"I don't want to study anymore, my brain is melting," Bucky groans as he leans back against your couch with his head facing the ceiling.

His eyes shut as he tries to make all the words disappear from his head, and you laugh at him.

"It's only been two hours," you point out. "Don't you have a huge test on Saturday afternoon?"

"I can't," Bucky moans dramatically. "I can't anymore. I should accept my inevitable doom and fail."

You roll your eyes with a smile as you lean forward and close his books. "Alright, drama queen. I think you just need a break. Why don't we just put on a movie?"

"Annnnd, now my brain is unmelting," Bucky sits up with an excited twinkle in his eye.

You end up watching three movies, but by the third movie, you fall asleep.

Bucky sits there, eyes drifting to you with ease as the movie plays on.

You snored a little, causing him to smile involuntarily.

Alright, Bucky admits, you were just beyond adorable to him.

But finding the right person also takes time.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Friday night is game night.

Your friends get much too rowdy as you try to quiet them down, knowing Bucky is probably trying to study across the hall.

One of your friends drinks way too much and ends up passing out on the couch, dead to the world.

"Alright, let's call it a night," you yawn as you stand up and stretch. It's well past 1 AM as your friends get up.

"Should we wake him?" One of your friends asks.

"Nah, just leave him. I don't even know if he will wake up," you and your friends share a quick laugh as they leave your building.

"Don't forget we have the party tomorrow," your friend, Mary Jane, pulls you in for a hug.

"Right," you drawl, "Another attempt to find me a gross, frat boyfriend?"

"I mean, show me another guy on your roster, and I won't try to drag you to these parties," Mary Jane laughs.

You made some noise of agreement as you pat her back before she lets go, walking to the door and giving you a little wave before leaving.

You stretch again before you go to your closet to bring out an extra blanket and set it over your friend. You grab a glass of water and some Advil because you know that poor sucker will feel it tomorrow.

You look in the fridge and groan when you see you've run out of eggs. Typically, you wouldn't mind getting them in the morning, but your friend was someone who needed food immediately when they were hungover. You weren't willing to wake up any earlier to get the eggs in the morning, so you closed the fridge and got ready to head to the 24-hour convenience store down the block.

You were casually scrolling through your phone as you left your apartment. When you opened the door, you could hear some...sounds from Bucky's apartment, and you felt instant pity for the man. You were ready to leave the building when a figure sitting in the lobby scared the shit out of you.

"Holy fuc--Bucky?"

Bucky looked up with slightly bleary eyes, and it looks like he was still studying as he had his textbook in his lap along with his notebook.

"Oh, what are you doing down here?" He asked, sounding rather tired.

"What are you doing down here?" You retorted. "It's almost 2 AM. Don't you have a huge test tomorrow?"

"...Steve and Peggy had a fight..." Bucky pressed his lips together, and you don't need to ask further that the noises you heard earlier were them making up.

You wheedle from foot to foot while you look at Bucky. He looks exhausted, and you feel awful he's been sitting out here for God knows how long.

"How long were you out here for?"

"I don't know," Bucky shrugs, "Couple hours?"

You sigh. "Why didn't you just let me know. You could've come over."

"It was game night for you, wasn't it?" Bucky blinks because he was pretty sure he saw your sorority friend leave about 10 minutes ago.

You let out a pretty deep sigh, holding your hand out in front of him.

He scrunches his brows.

"C'mon," you wiggle your fingers, "come get some eggs with me, and you can crash at my place tonight."

Bucky gives you a light grin as he closes his textbook and grabs your hand as you put very little effort into pulling him up.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

There's a body.

In the place where Bucky thought he was going to sleep.

You don't seem to pay any mind to it as you put the eggs and orange juice away in the fridge.

Bucky is thinking a mile a minute.

The couch was taken, and the extra room you had was turned into a study room.

Was he supposed to sleep on the carpet? Were you going to give him a sleeping bag?

"Hey," Bucky grabs your attention, "Where should I crash?"

You shut the fridge door, running your hand through your hair as you make your way to your room.

"We can just bunk in the same bed," you say with a shrug, and Bucky thinks he might have a heart attack.

"You're okay with that?" Bucky asks slowly.

You shrug again, "Yeah, I bunk with people all the time. Don't you? It's like part of the university experience."

Bucky doesn't know how to say that he's probably doing more than just sleeping when he bunks with someone.

You turn around and lean at your doorframe, quirking your brow with a smirk.

"Don't tell me you aren't enough of an adult to share a bed with me."

Getting a rise out of Bucky seems to work as Bucky stalks into your bedroom.

"I'll show you an adult," he mutters childishly, and you roll your eyes with a smile.

And although Bucky says such big words, he's lying stiff as a board on the bed. He lies as close to the edge as possible without falling with his back turned to you, and you can't help but chuckle a little.

"You can unclench, you know. I hardly doubt you'll get some rest if you lie there like a metal rod," you say, but you're also lying pretty close to the edge with your back turned to him, though not as stiff.

It's silent for a moment, but eventually, you feel the bed shift a little as Bucky relaxes.

It's silent again, and you feel yourself starting to fall asleep.

"Who was that on your couch?" Bucky asks, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" You hum, opening your eyes slightly. "Oh, just a friend. He usually doesn't come to game night, but his boyfriend is visiting back home this weekend. He went a little too hard on the drinks."

"He's gay?"

"Yeah, got a problem?" You ask almost daring Bucky to say he does.

"Definitely not," Bucky smiles.

It's silent again.

"So--"

"Go to sleep, dumbass, you have a test in the morning," you say without opening your eyes. You hear Bucky chuckle softly.

"Goodnight, doll."

"Goodnight," you smile.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Warm.

Bucky felt warm. Maybe a little too warm.

He hasn't opened his eyes yet, but he can feel sunlight hitting his face and hear the birds chirping outside.

Bucky takes a deep breath in and feels shifting in his arms. He moves a little, pulling the warmth in closer.

He roughly hums in the back of his throat when he feels lips press against his collarbone.

It hits him like a freight train.

Bucky immediately opens his eyes, his body becoming rigid again as you come into view.

What started with the two of you sleeping at the furthest edges of the bed with your backs turned to each other ended up being the very opposite.

Sometime during the middle of the night, the two of you gravitated towards the middle of the bed. You were wrapped up in his arms, head just under his chin. He could feel your breath on the base of this throat, and it was giving him goosebumps.

Your hands were wrapped around his back, gripping his shirt slightly. Bucky couldn't even move too much with your legs intertwined with his. A groan wanted to escape his lips with his thigh wedged between your legs.

Bucky tried to move slowly without waking you.

He really did.

But then you let out a whine, holding him tighter and clenching your legs to lock his thigh in.

"Stop moving," you whined.

God, Bucky doesn't think he'll make it. He's already got morning wood, and this is too much.

He calls your name in an attempt to wake you up.

"Doll, you gotta get up, I have a test soon," he says instead when you hardly react to him calling your name.

This time, you do blearily open your eyes with a huff.

You untangle yourself from him as Bucky lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Sitting up, you let out a yawn and let out a big stretch, your shirt riding a little up as you do.

You look at your clock.

"Alright, there's about an hour before your test. Eat some breakfast before you go."

"It's really fin--"

"Break. fast."

You leave the room, and Bucky is left sitting there by himself. The morning passes quickly as you make breakfast. The sounds nor the smell seem to wake your friend up.

"Good luck on your test!" You smile at him as you make him a breakfast sandwich for him to go.

Bucky smiles back with a 'thanks' before he leaves your place confused.

Did this morning not affect you at all? Did you not see him as a man?

Bucky was distracted during the whole test.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You held your smile until you heard the footsteps fade from your door.

After that, you nearly screamed. You stalked over to your hungover friend and whipped a pillow into his face.

"Ack!" He wakes up, nearly falling off the couch. He groans instantly when he sees your face.

"I'm so hungover, oh my god," your friend moans.

Your face feels hot as it's flushed in embarrassment. "This is all your fault for drinking too much and crashing on the couch! I should've pushed you onto the floor!"

You let out a groan before you stalked off to the washroom, closing the door.

Your friend sits up, looking at the plate of eggs and bacon on the table.

"What'd I do?"

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

The entire day leading up to the party is spent with you trying to contain your embarrassment. You're trying to repress the memory of being pressed up against Bucky and clingy.

You didn't hear from Bucky after his test, and you were much too mortified to say anything, so you hadn't texted him either.

"You look constipated, please take some shots and relax," Mary Jane hands you tequila with a lime slice.

You shoot back the shot without hesitation.

"Alright," Mary Jane whistles, "Do I even want to know what's got your panties in a knot?"

"Nope," you shake your head.

"Alright, fair enough. Get some more drinks and mingle!" Mary Jane turns her attention past you. You look behind and see her current boyfriend, Harry, enter the room with kegs.

You sigh when Mary Jane looks at you with puppy eyes.

"Go," you tell her. She squeals and kisses you on the cheek before rushing off.

You do flitter through the party, catching up with some friends, and getting some drinks.

As embarrassed as you are, the last thing you want is to get sloppy, so you don't overdo it.

But as you already know, luck is never on your side.

Especially when you see Bucky walking into the party. People are getting excited and rushing up to say hi to him because Bucky rarely goes to frat parties.

The two of you lock eyes instantly, and the memory of this morning rushes back, and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you.

'Play it cool,' you tell yourself as you turn back to the group of people you're standing with.

You're not even sure what they've been talking about, and there's no way you could focus on that now.

Bucky doesn't seem to be rushing up to you either. He's drinking a beer with Harry as a crowd surrounds them.

You can see girls in the back looking at him and whispering, and you feel the burn in your gut now for some reason.

God, were you such a cliché that sharing a bed with Bucky actually made you think that way about him?

The night seems to continue on, and even though you keep catching eyes with Bucky, neither of you seems willing to make the first move.

You head over to the bar to get more drinks when someone approaches you and orders you a drink.

You internally groan.

Brock Rumlow.

A real piece of work.

He made it into Theta Chi, well-known to be a troublemaker.

He was known to sleep around and make unwanted advances towards girls and was hardly passing his classes.

Brock had turned his attention to you lately, which you flat out rejected him. It helped that you were friends with Mary Jane, who was dating Harry, the president of Theta Chi, and could tell Brock to back off.

But Brock Rumlow liked to push his boundaries.

"You look pretty good tonight, did you dress pretty for me?" He smirks at you, and you roll your eyes.

"Fuck off, Rumlow. I already told you I'm not interested," you look away, not bothering to take the drink he ordered for you.

"Now don't be like that, you haven't even gotten to know me yet," Brock leans against the counter close to you.

"And as I've explicitly told you, no," you whip your head back and glare at him.

You're about to walk off and see if you could find Mary Jane and Harry when Brock grabs your arm.

"What the fuck-" You start to say when another arm comes into view, grabbing Brock's wrist.

You look over to see Bucky standing there with his lip pressed into a thin line as he grips Brock's wrist hard enough until he lets go.

"Ow--what's your problem, dude?" Brock holds his wrist before shaking the pain off.

"Keep your hands off her," Bucky cocks his brow as he stands in front of you.

"How about you mind your business," Brock glares at him. "What? Are you her boyfriend?"

Bucky is standing so close to you that you can see his muscles tense, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around him from behind.

"Yes," you interrupt as Bucky lifts his arm over you and then around you so that you're tucked by his side. "He is my boyfriend."

You look up with a loving smile, trying to play the part when you find Bucky's steel-blue eyes gazing back at you.

He licks his lips, teeth dragging over his bottom lip, you swear so slowly before he smirks and looks back at Brock.

"So," Bucky keeps smiling, "fuck off."

"You could've just said you had a boyfriend," Brock grumbles at you like it's your fault somehow.

"My girlfriend doesn't have to say anything. Do you need to be taken back to elementary school to understand what 'no' or 'I'm not interested' means?" Bucky cocks his brow, and Brock sneers at him.

He looks like he wants to cause a scene, but Bucky is a well-known guy around campus, even if he's not in a fraternity house. Brock knows nothing good would come from starting a fight with Bucky, and he's already on thin ice with Harry.

And Bucky knows that.

So, he turns to you with a smile.

"C'mon, doll, let's get out of here."

As you get ready to leave, Bucky turns to Brock once more with a steely look on his face.

"Stay the fuck away from my girl."

Bucky actually leads you out of the party, saying a brief goodbye to Harry and Mary Jane, who wiggles her brows at you, and you're so grateful to have left.

The two of you walk silently but slowly back to the apartment, and you've got your arms wrapped around your midsection.

You cough, bringing Bucky's attention to you as you come to a stop under the streetlight.

"Thanks," you say a little awkwardly, "for you know, playing along."

Bucky smiles lightly.

"If those are the kind of guys on your roster, I think you should expand your horizons a little."

"Not all of us can have a guy like you on our list, but I'll take that under advisement."

You laugh, trying to play it off as a joke because even though it was all just pretend for a moment, being pressed up against Bucky as his girlfriend shouldn't have felt as good as it did.

"You can add me to your roster."

The words were said so smoothly you had almost missed it. You turn your head to Bucky, who's standing there with his hands in his pockets.

"What?" You say unsurely, convinced you might've heard him wrong.

"I told you I was waiting for the right girl," Bucky smiles, "I'm waiting for you, doll."

You feel an explosion of butterflies in your stomach, cheeks heating up as you process Bucky's words.

Every meeting you've had with Bucky is a series of unfortunate events.

And perhaps between every moment, while waiting for the right guy to come along, it only took waking up in his arms to realize maybe he was there all along.

#v.myfic #g.fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #avengers imagine #modern avengers au #avengers au #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine

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bandaigaeru · 3 years

Text

comfort place - yang jeongin

→genre: friends to lovers →synopsis: comfort can manifest itself in many forms. some find it in the fantastical world of the arts. others find it in sports. but, for you, comfort is a person. →word count: 6.5k →pairing: jeongin x gender neutral reader →warnings: drunk jeongin, mentions of puking

“Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“That,” your eyes go wide as you nod at his stature. He’s hunched over your trash can. Blue gloves shield his hands as he digs.

“Oh. I think I lost my earring or something.”

“And your first instinct was to search my trash can?” you quirk an eyebrow. Perhaps you should mention that this isn’t just any trash can, it’s your kitchen one. Full of discarded, burnt ramen and your roommate’s weird protein shakes that will clog your drain otherwise.

He nods, as though this is the most normal first step to a lost earring. Yang Jeongin is many things, but being questionable is one of his strongest traits.

You slip behind him to get to the fridge. Water bottles line the right half, more commonly known as your roommate’s side. You reach for one.

“What are you doing on March twenty-fifth?” he asks, arms deep in your trashcan. He’s really going to endure this conversation without a single shred of his pride disappearing.

You try not to look at him as you glance at the calendar. Two weeks away, the small square for that Saturday reads “NATIONALS” in large red letters.

You hum to yourself. “Dog sitting.”

“What?” he looks at you, eyes squinted in confusion, “Why?”

“Danceracha’s going out of town for the dance contest. I told you this.”

He exhales a deep, surrendering sigh as he straightens his back and plucks the gloves off. He shakes his hands in the cool air before starting for your sink. The calm stream of water trickles out. “Man. That sucks.”

“Why?” you question. Your fingertips draw marks of condensation along the plastic.

“I was gonna invite you to a party,” he mutters. A pout comes to his lips. For a moment, your heart drops. He looks the same as when you met him. All those years, long with memories but short in quantity, whizz past you.

“Party?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he nudges the water stream off.

Parties and Jeongin don’t mix well. History has proven this.

“Whose party is it?” you start for the living room, knowing he’ll follow.

“You don’t know him,” he says, his voice never once fading because, indeed, he’s on your tail.

“Okay, but what’s his name?”

“Chan. Actually,” he hesitates, “you might know him.”

As you sink into the couch, chipped leather scratching your legs, you glance at him. His eyebrows are scrunched into his thinking stance. Then, his features light up once he finds the answer. “Do you remember sophomore year’s biology class?”

You nod.

“Remember when that senior came in to make fun of Mr. Lee?”

Again, you nod.

“His best friend is Chan. You probably saw them in our freshman yearbook for spirit week. They dressed up as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for Twins Day.”

Your mouth forms into an acknowledging part. “Got it.” In fact, the recurring image instantly pops into your head. You can thank all the hours spent staring at it with stifled laughter for that.

“So what’s the party for?”

He shrugs, “Some college achievement shit.”

“And you got invited?” you laugh. Jeongin barely made it out of high school. He took one harrowed glance at the local campus and nearly cried. You don’t blame him, though. That place is stressful. Even as a freshman you can say this.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m cool, you know? I don’t need to be in academics for them to know that.”

“Sure,” you nod.

“I’m serious!” His lips quirk up in a defensive manner that sends a spark through your chest.

Among other things, Jeongin is confusing. Questionable and confusing. These are the words you say when someone asks you what he’s like. Because seriously, why does he always do things so infuriating yet endearing?

He runs a hand through his hair as he unlocks his phone. His thumb works quickly to swipe through a message log before he tilts the phone so you can see. “See?”

The conversation in question is short, a maximum of four texts. The details blur as he snatches his phone back as quickly as he showed it. Again, infuriating.

“Are you planning on going alone, then?”

This question makes him freeze. He stares at the wall wielding a mounted TV, whose black screen reflects the image of him by your side, shoulder to shoulder. A small smile tilts his lips. “I guess. People want me there. So I’ll find my niche.”

See? Endearing.

You have no doubts that he can find a place to fit in. He did it in high school and he’ll proceed to do it in the future. That’s just how he is. Plus, maybe he can allow someone else to feel safe too. Like he did for you.

ii.

High school is a demon with a comforting smile. When you’re forced to transition, they tell you it’s all fun. Sunshine and rainbows, if you will. What they don’t tell you is that luck will always make it so you don’t get any of your friends in your classes. And this, with your contradicting lunch shifts, will slowly force you out of the friend group you had stuck with since elementary school.

Perpetual tears are stocked behind your eyes. Waiting for the perfect moment to fall because let’s be honest, any minor inconvenience could push you over the edge. Stress does that to you.

In third period of your second week, your math teacher announces that she’s decided on her seating chart. She makes you line up against the walls as she grabs her reference sheet, lined with the images of desks, names scribbled atop them. “Jeongin,” she says, pointing to a desk in the front row.

A boy a few feet away from you steps out from the crowd to claim his desk. He’s wearing an oversized maroon hoodie whose back is marked “Yang” in white letters.

Your teacher stops at the seat next to him. She glances at you and your heart drops. “Y/N,” she points to a desk.

Sitting up front is worse than the incessant plagues of high school drama. All eyes permanently burn into the back of your head, even when not a single soul acknowledges you.

As you try to settle into your seat, back a little stiff from trying to shrink yourself into a tiny marble, the boy beside you leans over. “Hey, you okay?”

For the first time, your eyes lock. His remind you of the innocence of childhood, that blank yet full gaze. You nearly melt, but instead, your back loosens.

“Yeah. I just don’t like sitting in the front,” you chuckle awkwardly.

He smiles. Not one of the pity ones, but a real toothy smile. “Aww. Me neither, I always feel like everyone’s watching me.”

Finally, a person who gets it.

“But I just have to trick myself into not caring,” he says, glancing at the whiteboard. Shadows of poorly erased marker line the corners.

Abruptly, after his serene gaze, he jumps back to you. “Do you like coffee by any chance?”

Despite the initial shock of the question, you say, “Yeah, I do.”

As it turns out, his family owns this huge coffee shop right next to the bookstore you used to frequent. His mom was rather happy to see a new face. On that day, she accepted you as family.

And math didn’t turn out to be so hard that year.

iii.

The apartment grows quiet after Jeongin inevitably has to leave. Your roommate’s dog comes trotting out from his room. His nose is upturned, scouting for a soul to give him attention.

“Come here, Kkami,” you pat the empty spot on the couch beside you. He runs the rest of the way. Instead of resting on the couch cushion, he prefers your lap. This pickiness he obtained from his owner.

Hyunjin’s anything but a bad roommate. He does the dishes, sweeps when he finds a large puff of Kkami’s fur traveling your hardwood like a tumbleweed, even brings home coffee when you have a huge study night ahead of you. However, when it comes to you and Jeongin, your mutual hangouts on weekends, he has a very specific need. And that’s to be around you two as little as possible.

He claims it’s because he can’t stand third-wheeling. Jeongin refuses to understand this concept. “If we’re not dating, it’s not third-wheeling?” he’d said, numerous times.

Hyunjin won’t budge on the subject.

The tune set as Jeongin’s ringtone, chosen by him, plagues the air. You reach for your phone, placing a protective hand on Kkami’s side to prevent him from falling.

“Hello?”

“Problem: What would you do if your brother told you he got a girlfriend?”

You squint at your reflection in the TV between scene transitions. It looks odd without him beside you. “Which brother?”

“Guess which one would make me more dumbfounded. Hint, it’s not the older one.”

“Your younger brother got someone before you?” you snicker. Jeongin holds his pride in his individuality. Losing to a younger brother with something like this is hilarious.

“This isn’t funny! Should I be a serious big brother and talk to him or should I just seethe in silence?”

“Neither. Leave him alone.”

He does something akin to a whine. “But-”

You stick up a finger, though he can’t see you as you interrupt, “C’mon, Jeongin. He’s a teenager. Let him be.”

Sometimes, it feels like he’s the outsider and you’re the true, reasonable sibling.

He sighs. You imagine him pushing his hair out of his eyes and staring up at his ceiling. All lost in the possibilities that lay before him, since you and him both know he won’t listen to you.

“Can I hang up now?” you ask, glancing at the front door.

“Are you gonna abandon me for your significant other too?”

You scoff as the front door opens. “You’re ridiculous.”

Hyunjin steps into the apartment. His hair is damp with sweat and lays jagged in front of his eyes. You raise a hand to wave.

“It’s a real question, though. You know whoever it is will be jealous of me.” Now, you know, he’s just prodding for a reaction. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yes, Jeongin. I would one hundred percent drop you for some person who offers emotional stimulation,” you monotonously chide.

Hyunjin gives you a curious look as he passes. You would think he’d be used to this by now.

“Okay but,” Jeongin’s voice grows low as he settles onto his bed, “would you really? Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t,” you press your back deeper into the couch. It’s not like you’ve had many romantic opportunities since meeting him. Jeongin, though also needy, is more interesting than anyone else you’ve met. He’s a shiny emerald among a sea of charcoal.

“Good,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. The image of his little dimple indenting makes you mirror the sentiment.

“Now can I hang up?”

“Fine,” he sighs.

Through a laugh, you manage, “Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” And then the line goes dead.

iv.

“Are you sure you don’t like him?” must be a trendy replacement for ‘good morning.’

“Who?” you ask, rubbing your eye as you start for the cereal cabinet.

“Jeongin. Who else?” Hyunjin says. He sits at the kitchen table. A plate of freshly heated blueberry waffles sits before him.

Without turning to him, you say, “I’m sure.”

It’s a reflex, really.

He exhales in the most exaggerated way possible to grab your attention. His eyes are cold with the hunger for an answer. A real one.

“I don’t like him,” you say slowly, allowing each word time to sink into the air.

The thought has surely crossed your mind. It’d be unrealistic to say you’ve never pondered the great possibility of being in love with your best friend. But ultimately, you don’t think you are. Sure, you’d take a bullet for Jeongin. Just not in the ‘wow I’m madly in love with you’ kind of way. You tell yourself it’s in the ‘you’re going to do so much good for the world’ kind of way.

“Fine,” Hyunjin admits, picking up one of his waffles and taking a caveman bite.

Most of breakfast is quiet as you sit opposite him, staring into your bowl. Your milky reflection takes you off guard a few times.

“You know,” Hyunjin says after a while, his voice raw and a little croaky. He has to bring a hand to cover his mouth as he clears his throat. “You should get him to stay with you while I’m away.”

As you look back up at him, he adds defensively, “I’m not trying to play Cupid.”

You shrug, “He probably has other plans.”

Yet when you text him a few hours later, he jumps on it. “It’ll be like a sleepover! Don’t you miss when we did those?”

You did, but you don’t admit it.

The week of nationals arrives too quickly for your mind to process. One minute, you’re studying for an upcoming exam and the next there’s a knock on your bedroom door. It doesn’t wait for a sound before opening.

“Hey, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s dressed in black sweatpants and a black hoodie, which covers his messy hair. Perfect for his night of sleeping on the bus. A duffel bag packed and puffy hangs off his shoulder.

“Good luck,” you smile up at him.

“Thanks. Don’t try sneaking into the venue with your rat like you did last year,” he returns the smile.

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea,” you rush to defend yourself.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right. You still played into it.”

“And we got to support you as your lovely friends.”

“You were the only people cheering during the contemporary dance,” he mumbles, stepping back into the hall.

“To be fair, we couldn’t realize because we were so involved!” you shout to match the increasing distance.

“Right!” he calls, a laugh shaking his words.

Studying is now a failed mission. Every time you glance at the words printed on the textbook’s glossed pages, they just blur together until your mind drifts to Jeongin. When is he coming over? He said he’d be here by seven. It’s roughly a quarter past. He has a key, so it’s not like you have to be free when he gets here.

When you succumb and close the textbook, you hear shuffling in the living room. Shortly followed by Kkami’s familiar barking, which he only pursues when someone’s here.

The feeling of a generously excited puppy fills you as you follow the source.

“Hi,” you smile.

Jeongin has treated himself to a coffee. He must have just worked a shift.

“Hi,” he hands you the paper cup.

“Oh, is this for me?” you take it. It’s hot against your palms.

“Yeah. It’s hot chocolate. Thought you might want it.”

He drops his backpack, likely stuffed with potential party outfits, by the couch. He stands and scans your face as you take the first sip of the drink. The sweetness takes over and makes you shiver, but the warmth minimizes the shiver to nothing. Surely enough, this is his mother’s hot chocolate.

“Thank you,” you say, looking into his eyes. The living room light has speckled his eyes with stars.

“Of course.”

A moment passes of just looking at each other. Not a single word. You’re not even sure if you’re remembering to breathe.

It breaks when he glances at the TV. “Movie time?”

Settling on the couch doesn’t take long. He sits close enough to you, resting his head on your shoulder. He’s done this for as long as you remember, but why does it feel so close all of a sudden?

He chooses the movie. A tradition you’ve established ever since you accidentally chose a movie so repulsively awful you had to take a break from watching movies at all. The teasing was barely bearable.

Even now, when someone says something similar to that movie, you shiver.

“Are we feeling sci-fi?” he asks.

You almost shrug until you remember where his head is. “I don’t care,” you say instead.

He chooses a romance movie, his safe pick.

And he falls asleep not even ten minutes in.

Hyunjin’s question returns to you in neon lights. Certainly, this tight feeling in your chest couldn’t be akin to liking someone. When you like someone, there’s always a telltale sign. There’s a bright moment of realization. That’s never come for you. Even now, all you can do is question. Question. Question. Question.

vi.

Jeongin’s party outfit is the most conspicuous thing ever. A light blue tee from middle school that has all his classmate’s signatures on the back. Black jeans with holes at the knees. You can’t tell if he’s going to a child’s party or not.

He catches your tilted gaze, matched with the furrowed eyebrows, and huffs. “Would you rather I get puke on a good shirt?”

You blink. “I’d rather you not puke on yourself.”

A noise close to laughter bursts past his lips. “Ha. Funny. I won’t reach that point. I’m thinking people puking on me.”

You nod. Jeongin’s a lightweight, from what you know. But hey, if it helps him sleep at night.

He departs after a long phone call with Chan. He offers a little wave as he opens the door. “I’ll give you live updates.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I will.”

And indeed, he follows through. Selfies bombard your phone every three minutes. One is taken with Chan, but it’s so shaky and dark that they look like blobs with highlighted cheeks.

These only make you more confused. Maybe Hyunjin was right. But you don’t want him to be. Nothing makes you feel more foolish than catching feelings for a friend who is just that. Friend. That painful, heartbreaking word.

You open Hyunjin’s message log, prepared to reach out and ask if he can help you break down what you’re feeling, but his contact transitions to consuming your entire screen—perfect timing, he’s calling.

“Hello?”

“Guess what?” His voice is drowned out by external shouts.

“What?”

“We took second place!”

“Congrats,” you smile to yourself, leaning against the couch arm.

“It’s all thanks to Felix’s freestyle. That surprise category threw us off, but he really came through,” he rambles. He tells you about all his points and each error, which ultimately seem mundane but apparently make a difference in his detail loving mind.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call. See how you’re doing, you know.”

“I’m doing good,” you nod as though to convince yourself.

“How’s Jeongin?”

“At a party,” you say as your phone buzzes again. Another selfie. This time, he’s in a lonesome bathroom and posing in the mirror. A peace sign that surrounds his eye. That stupid dimple makes your heart jump.

Hyunjin giggles at something on his end and says something not aimed at you. He quickly returns to his serious tone with, “How are you really feeling? Don’t bullshit me.”

You stifle a laugh. Resting your head on the back of the couch, you glare at the ceiling, “Confused.”

“About Jeongin?”

He slips into a quieter place. You sigh. Why are your hands shaking all of a sudden? “Yeah.”

“Well,” he starts, “I pushed you into thinking about it for a reason.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because friends don’t like friends like that.”

“But you like him like that, so doesn’t that ruin your statement?”

You sit in the silence for a minute. “I guess so.”

His breath is amplified and you can hear each inhale and exhale. “You’ll probably just brush this off, but I think you have a shot.”

You nod. “Sure. A shot at going to the moon maybe. A shot at Jeongin liking me? No way.”

“Look, pessimism isn’t gonna get you anywhere. If you’re too much of a pussy to talk to him, I will. But not because I want to, because it’s terrible seeing you sulk,” he mutters.

A round of applause for your roommate.

“Just give me some time. I still don’t know if I like him,” you glance at the dog, who’s cuddled up on a pile of blankets. Why can’t your life be that simple?

“Not trying to force you or anything, but I think you know the answer to that.”

He’s probably right. It’s not like you can retaliate anyway. There’s a distant knock before he says, “Sorry. I gotta go. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

The following silence is truly suffocating.

vii.

That party changes everything.

Jeongin stumbles home, each step a potential path to faceplanting. It’s this exact stumble that forces him to trip over a box.

The noise draws you from sleep. Through squinted eyes, you stare at him as he tries to regain his balance. His arms are splayed out, searching for a stable support beam.

“Jeongin?” you whisper, though you know it’s him. Who else would be drunkenly returning home at, you glance at your phone, three in the morning?

“Y/N,” he gasps. Your voice prompts him to follow it.

As you stand, he finds his way through the narrow path between couch and coffee table. He throws his arms around you.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, words meshing together.

“I missed you too?” It’s only been six hours.

He holds you at arms length, palms resting on your shoulders. “I love you,” he slurs, eyes drunkenly taking a long blink.

“I love you too?”

“No, like, I really love you. ‘The moon is beautiful’ type of stuff,” he nods.

You’re not sure what he means by this. But it doesn’t matter if you try to question him, because he continues.

“I think about the future a lot,” he says, hands falling to his sides before he falls onto the couch. “Nothing’s ever consistent. But you’re always there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

He wasn’t finished. “I think our wedding would be nice.”

Now, he goes silent as you stand there in shock. He thinks about that? How often?

The moment your lips part to ask these things, a light snore escapes his lips. You grab a blanket from your room, the Totoro one he loves, and you gently cover him. You lean over his face. His cheeks are a little swollen, as are his lips. You push his hair away from his eyes before going to your room. You’re careful not to make a noise as you shut the door.

He’s gone by the time you wake up. For the first twenty-four hours, you shrug it off as a painful hangover he’s just sleeping through.

Most hangovers don’t last a week, though.

One time, sitting beneath a sky littered with stars, Jeongin released a deep breath. “Do you think we’ll ever stop being friends?”

Jeongin’s not insecure about many things, as his philosophy is that if one person finds something unattractive, there’s a hoard who will think otherwise. But this topic is an exception.

“Unless you do something unthinkably terrible, no,” you mumble. And you truly meant it.

So, Jeongin: You haven’t done anything unthinkable.Why have you disappeared?

Life without Jeongin has been incredibly boring. It’s prompted an imminent heartache. Attending class is a lame option considering your bed is so much more comfortable. You never knew missing someone could form a black hole in your body, consuming each grain of energy.

Hyunjin’s the only reason you’re eating. Since he knows you’re not up for any meal, he brings you snacks and another bottle of water—to add to the mountain of empty bottles on your desk.

“Do I need to go break his ankles?” Hyunjin asks one day, nearly a month after his tournament.

You shrug. You know he’s joking, but laughter doesn’t seem to bubble up. It’s lost in the dark cave that is this confusing state.

“I texted him today. No response yet,” Hyunjin adds.

You nod. You got the same treatment, but you stopped trying a while ago.

“Have you gone to the coffee shop? To see his mom or something?”

You shake your head. “No point in it. He doesn’t tell her much. Plus I don’t want to pin her against him or anything.”

Hyunjin sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, or offer, or do to help you. Not that you’re a lost cause, but he’s starting to lose the ounce of hope he had. To him, you’re too good for this. Telling and convincing you of that is a difficult task.

When he leaves you alone, you cry again. At this point, your eyes hurt when you aren’t crying. But hey, at least you’re sleeping nice. The desperate need to escape can do that to you.

viii.

You tell Hyunjin your conclusion at dinner—something he’s finally tricked you into eating. “I think I love him.”

He nods. “Yeah. Didn’t we already establish that?”

You push the noodles around. “I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Why?”

Averted gaze set to the ramen, though his remains scalding. “I don’t know.”

He reaches across the table to regain your focus. He knows the noodles aren’t that interesting. “That’s okay. Look, we can go beat his ass if you want. Or we can hunt him down and hold him hostage-”

He stops when he sees the small hint of a smile turning your lips up. One of his own appears, and in his mind, he’s breaking into a congratulatory dance. The crack in the sadness is exposed, and it’s slowly breaking further. All that’s next is revealing the ravine of happiness.

After dinner, you sit on the couch and decide to watch a movie. Unlike Jeongin, he gives you movie pick. It reminds you of the bitter taste that’s overcome your mouth since he up and left.

Halfway through the movie, some shitty one Jeongin and you watched a few months ago, Kkami barks at the couch. He looks between you and the crack behind it as if to say, “Hello? Get my bone!”

You glance at Hyunjin, who also waits for you to get up and retrieve the dog’s lost bone. Normally you take turns with this task, but he seems to have forgotten it’s been his turn for the last five times.

With a muted sigh, you pull yourself off the couch. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to pause the movie. Jeongin wouldn’t do that.

You lower yourself to look into the dark tunnel. With a blind hand you swipe against the floor. A small object connects with the palm of your hand. You drag it out. A small metal earring glares back at you. You drop it in the pocket of your hoodie—which was a gift from Jeongin as you drifted into adulthood. You return to the bone search with a sting in your eyes.

ix.

Happiness is a fragile object.

At the same hour that Jeongin had said the unthinkable, your phone buzzes loudly against your side. Ultimately, this brings you back to the post-sleep daze as you trudge to answer it. Looking at the contact is the last of your concerns.

“Hello?” Your voice is raw. A long gulp of water would be kindly appreciated.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” This is a voice you’ve never heard before. You pull back to look at the contact and, unsurprisingly, there isn’t one. All that stares back is a string of numbers, unique to this person.

“Yeah?”

“Hi, sorry for the late call. I’m Chan-” you nearly hang up out of defensive instinct, but you let him finish. “I kind of need a favor right now.”

“What kind of favor?”

In the background, there’s a loud retching noise. “Um, so Jeongin, right?” Chan nervously laughs.

“We’re not really-” you start.

He interrupts, “I know. But he’s been talking about you nonstop. He’s really a wimp, you know. Actually, I guess I’m not really asking for a favor. I’m doing you a favor.”

You know where he’s going with this. “I’m sorry, Chan, but I don’t think that’s a-”

“Hush,” he says before his voice distances.

“Y/N? It’s Y/N?” the familiar, slurred voice asks.

He wasn’t going to give you an option. Deep down, you’re kind of grateful for that.

When Chan returns to the phone, he says, “I can send you the address. We’re on the first floor, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I would offer to come pick you up, but I’m babysitting.” At these final words, he laughs.

You consider waking up Hyunjin to take you—he’s the one with the car—but you think against it when you realize it’s only a five minute walk.

Despite the daytime weather that is clear sky and sun that hugs your skin, the nighttime

version is a little less welcoming. Indeed the air is breezeless, but it’s a bitter cold. Grabbing a hoodie would have been smart, but alas.

Chan opens the door with a smile. “Hi, come on in.”

He points to a closed door, “Jeongin’s in there. He should be decent. Just a little pukey.”

You follow his directions, while he starts for the couch. At least he’s allowing privacy, you think. You knock lightly on the door. After a long trial of waiting with no response, you slowly push the door open.

His cheek is resting on the cold porcelain of the bathtub. Through dazed and squinted eyes, he looks at you. “Hi?”

“Hey,” you say, stepping into his space for the first time in over a month. Despite the stain of puke on his shirt, you realize that he hasn’t changed much. What physical changes can someone go through in a month? Well. Everything.

You appreciate your mind for allowing his appearance to never leave. Otherwise, you might have looked at him just now and been disgusted. Because it’s Jeongin, and because of this weird tugging feeling in your chest, you don’t. In its place, you look at him as though he holds the world’s most valuable object.

He tries to sit up, nearly falls on his face, but manages. “Do you hate me?”

“No. I don’t think so,” you squat next to him. The familiar weight of his head meets with your shoulder.

“I shouldn’t say this,” he laughs. His mind is going a mile a minute, but his lips refuse to go at an accompanying speed. “I love you.”

You stare at the top of his head. “I love you too.”

“Really?” he lifts his head. He seems to search your eyes for the similar sparkle his hold.

“Yeah,” you nod. You decide to save your cheesy comments until the morning. No point in wasting them if he won’t remember this when he wakes up.

“Did you know that I,” he says, trying to lift himself to his feet. He leans a little too far on a foot, prompting you to rush and steady him. “thought you and Hyunjin were dating for the longest time.” He laughs again.

You squint at him, “Is that why you disappeared?”

A drunk smile finds his lips and his cheeks glow beneath the bathroom light. “Guilty.”

“You’re stupid for thinking it’d ever be anyone but you,” you whisper, glancing anywhere but him. You could say this to the mirror too. Stupid for thinking it could be anyone but him.

He’s ridiculous. Ridiculous enough to allow his smile to drop a little as he leans closer to your face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers.

You watch as he leans a little bit closer. Bit by bit. You even close your eyes at one point. At the last minute, when his breath begins to mingle with yours, he pulls away. “No. Let me brush my teeth first.”

You watch in a stunned silence as he stumbles to the living room. “Do you have a spare toothbrush I could use?” he asks Chan.

Chan responds quietly with, “Yeah, under the sink.”

You beat Jeongin to it, offering him the packaged toothbrush.

“Thanks, love,” he says.

Questionable Jeongin who calls you pet names. You like it, though you’ll try your hardest not to admit it. That’d only feed into his questionable choices.

Minty Jeongin has sobered up a little bit. Instead of kissing you immediately after rinsing his mouth, he stares.

“What?” you prompt.

“Nothing.”

And then he leans in and kisses you. In all honesty, it’s exactly how you imagined kissing him. There’s no stereotypical sparks. It’s just Jeongin, whose lips happen to be on yours. That’s enough. Afterward, though, you acknowledge that Cloud 9 is beneath your feet.

Chan drives you and Jeongin back to your apartment after a difficult talk and one final puke. (The puker looks at you when he feels it coming and asks, “Can you hold my hair back?”)

As you’re helping Jeongin out of the car, Chan leans back in the driver seat and glares a strong eye at Jeonign, “Run away again and I will beat your ass.”

Jeongin chuckles. “Right. Catch me first.” As he says this, he throws his arm over your shoulder for stability. Though, he’s sober enough to walk on his own now. The occasional stumble, sure, but he’s not in dire need of someone to guide him.

You take it as his way of saying he plans on staying.

However, when you make it into the apartment, you don’t bear right to the couch.

Keeping him close will prevent him sneaking out and running away again. That’s a thing of the past, and you’ll make sure of it.

He doesn’t even complain.

“Don’t puke on me, please,” you whisper as you climb into bed. He follows shortly after. Arms naturally find your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

He hums. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dreamless sleep takes over you, but the entire time you’re aware of his arms and his proximity. In a way, it’s better than dreaming.

It’s even better when you wake up before him. His lips are a pretty shade of pink and for a moment you forget about his eventful night. You press a light kiss to his cheek.

His eyes don’t open, nor does he stir. He’s in that beautiful, drunken sleep. You try not to laugh at the thought of his hangover to come. God, he’s going to be so whiny.

You try to slip out of his arms, but the death grip only becomes tighter. He whines a little, mutters something like, “Don’t go.”

After a few more minutes of just staring at the sleeping boy, boredom takes over. Yeah, staring is nice and all, whatever, but it reaches a certain intolerable point. Ten minutes is that point.

You nudge him, “Jeongin, let go. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“No,” he mutters, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

“Jeongin.”

“What?”

“Let go.”

His eyes finally open. They hold a small sense of surprise, which prompts you to tease, “What? Do you need a breakdown of what happened? Were you seriously that out of it?”

“No. Well, a little,” he stumbles over the words.

“What do you remember?”

“Puking,” he winces as he laughs. There’s that signature headache.

“You don’t remember kissing me?”

Wide eyes stare back at you. His lip shakes as he tries to force words out. “What?”

You laugh quietly. “Yeah. You did that.”

“I’m sorry,” he sits up. His vacant arms feel cold.

“No it’s okay. You only kissed me because I told you I loved you,” you sit up to match him.

His head turns to look at you. Tufts of hair stick up in an oddly symmetrical way. “Really? Since when?”

You nod. “Yeah. Time frame is unknown, but I think the feeling might have always been there. So you wasted a month of your life hiding.”

He tips his head, “Hey now, I had a valid reason.”

Your eyes squint at him. “It could have been avoided if you answered my texts. Or Hyunjin’s. Or if you checked your voicemail. Or-”

“Okay, I get it,” he nods, leaning in to shut you up. He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say how weird it feels to kiss his best friend—but he’s incredibly excited to get used to it.

“It’s fine. I think. My grades kind of tanked,” you comment, glancing at your desk. The tower of water bottles still stands. Somewhere buried beneath them are your abandoned papers.

“Because of me?” his voice is soft, as are his eyes as he fights back the sting of tears. Of all his intentions, this wasn’t one of them.

This look pains you. “Kinda. I thought I had lost my comfort place.”

In order to disguise his tears, he pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be good to you. We can make latte art together at the shop and stargaze at stupid hours. Whatever you want.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Is that a promise?”

He sniffles. “Yes. I love you. That’s the second promise.”

xi.

Hyunjin’s reaction is lackluster. A forced gasp as he waves his hands in surprise. “Wow. I totally didn’t give Chan your number or anything,” he says.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. He called me trying to drop him,” he points at Jeongin, “on me.”

“And you didn’t want to get out of bed?” Jeongin asks, bringing his mug of freshly brewed coffee to his lips.

“No,” Hyunjin sticks a finger up in defense. “Kkami wouldn’t let me move.”

What he means is: Yes, I didn’t want to get up but allow me to use my dog as a ploy.

You and Jeongin share a glance to confirm this thought. You burst out laughing.

“Do not tell me you’ve developed a couple's telepathy already,” Hyunjin whines, throwing his head back as he begins to pace the kitchen.

Jeongin begs your stare again. He wiggles his eyebrows to pseudo-communicate.

“I’m going to retail therapy,” Hyunjin sighs, dragging his keys off the counter before starting for the door.

A loud fit of laughter fills the air as the door shakes in its frame.

“He’s so overdramatic,” Jeongin manages, wiping a stray tear away from his eye.

You allow this time to watch him intently. All of his details flood over you with definitive clarity. His skin has gotten its first film of tan now that spring is in full swing. A change of season which you had missed out on together. It’s okay, he’ll take you to see the cherry blossoms next year.

“Oh, I found your earring, by the way,” you say when he catches you staring.

“Really? Where was it?” On instinct, he brings his hand up to his right ear. The lobes are not blinged, but it’s still worth checking.

“Behind the couch.”

He gapes at you. “How’d it get back there?”

“How would I know?”

You allow a silence to lay upon you as his face twists to think. All at once, it lights up again, “Ah. It was probably when we had that wrestling match. I didn’t have the back on because my ear was itchy or something.”

Interesting Jeongin. Questionable Jeongin.

Yang Jeongin is many things. Home. Comfort. Love. Above all else, he’s a friend. Who you happen to kiss from time to time.

#posted on april fools because surprise haha #also because i don’t think this is my best but eh #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin imagine #jeongin oneshot #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshot #stray kids jeongin #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #bandaigaeru

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