#maybe it was proximity the only thing that held us together

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - You And Me

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Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): Internet hate, emotional struggle, lack of communication.

Proofread while I was tired and delusional :)

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We were both young and distracted. Both on top of the world with our new occupations and the luck increasingly coming our way. Jack got drafted and I got my dream job in New York. We shared our excitement with one another simply because of our eventual close proximity.

I grew up going to school with the Hughes boys. I knew them well. I knew Luke the best, mostly because my little brother was friends with him. Which was really how I met Jack and Quinn in the first place. I gravitated toward Jack the most, due to his outgoing attitude and love for most things. We were always best friends. Strictly best friends.

It came as a shock to none when we got together. People were expecting it. Anticipating it. Jack and I dated, and at first we loved that, but eventually we saw through the cracks in our facades. We were playing “glorified friendship.” Jack didn’t love me like that, and I didn’t love him like that either. Sure, the fans and those on social media loved us, but they really only saw what we considered a best friendship. We may have kissed in a few photos and held hands, but Jack and I agreed that it just never felt right.

To say the least, we were both relieved and happy to have it over and done with when we broke up. We went back to fake gagging at each other and often teasing one another with comments about, “oh I can’t believe I ever kissed you,” and “why did we ever do that?”

Those comments though, had to be put on the back burner, when I met Trevor. Luke invited my brother and me out to the lake house one summer for a time. I almost turned down the offer, but my brother insisted, and I knew Jack would be there.

What I didn’t anticipate, was all of his friends being there too.

When Jack was too busy, I usually gravitated toward Trevor. Who always seemed to find me as well. He liked to ask what I was doing, drinking, eating, reading, watching.. god he just always wanted to know what I was up to. I thought it was nice.

I especially liked it when I would slip out on the back deck in the mornings to relax in the chill air, and Trevor would bee-bop out not long after, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt pouch and glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. He was often the least talkative, and I’d even venture to say shy, in the mornings.

Trevor and I became close after that. I could tell it made Jack nervous, but in the end when I asked him about dating Trevor, the middle Hughes gave his blessing.

The next summer, Trevor and I spent most of our time together at the lake house. And away from it. I took him on midnight drives. Introduced him to the wonders of rolling the windows down and screaming. He took me to his favorite mini-golf places and ice cream shops. We shared our hopes and dreams, and eventually our feelings.

Then I moved back to New York.

Long distance was shit, but Trevor visited whenever he was close enough to do so, and I visited whenever my schedule permitted. Then the second year of our relationship came, and after much discussion with my boyfriend, I made the decision to move to Anaheim.

Which was how we were eventually outed as well. People got photos of Trevor and I moving my things in just down the block from his and Jamie’s place. Which might not have looked overly suspicious, if those photos weren’t accompanied by one of us kissing too.

At first, people were happy. At first meaning maybe two days. Then I started getting comments on my social media. I started seeing people making videos and posts about how I’d dated Jack previously. People compared photos of me kissing Jack, to the one they had of me kissing Trevor.

Each new piece of content made me feel sick. Then it made me angry. Angry at Trevor’s fans, angry at jealous girls, angry at myself. Because in what world did I think this would slide by without having any issues? I was dating my exes best friend.

“Can they just shut up about it?”

I knew it hurt Trevor too, because the crazy fan girls called me a slut, but the other boy obsessed fan girls called Trevor a horrible friend. Everybody was choosing sides online. It was either;

Team Jack; which included shitting on Trevor for breaking bro-code

Team Trevor; which meant tearing Jack down for supposedly, ‘hurting me’ or ‘treating me wrong.’

Then there was simply Team Puck Bunny; where everybody attacked and berated me for jumping from guy to guy.

I wouldn’t consider it a team, more like an angry mob.

I often responded with,

“I’m sick of it too, bud. You’re not the only one.”

We went for days being frustrated, weeks even. Things simmered and simmered, then they came to a boil when I got publicly insulted in a book store.

“This is it?” I could tell the young woman had a tone in her voice, but I’d worked retail before. I knew some days just required a little bit of a hard attitude. It wasn’t until she looked up at me for the second time, that she decided to pop off.

“Did we bring Trevor’s card today?”

I was shocked. My expression spoke volumes, not to mention the way my posture quickly changed.

“What does that mean exactly?” The people behind me grew impatient, and usually I wasn’t one to cause a scene, but this girl wasn’t going to get away with such words.

“Means yours probably ran out of money after you and Jack broke up. Had to hop along to the next hockey player.”

Hop along. What a fucking joke.

I pulled my credit card back into my purse. I’d dealt with the hate for so long that at some point, I began to wonder if I did use Trevor’s money too much.

Did I talk about him too much? Mention his name too much at work? Did I get friends just because of him? How often was I really buying things and not arguing more about him handing his own card over? Was I really using him? Was Jack really upset with me?

I tried my hardest to hold back the tears as I abandoned my books at the counter. I climbed into my car, put on a pair of sunglasses, and finally let it out as I drove back to my place. It felt like I was trapped. Trapped under a microscope I didn’t want to be under. So alone. Put on a pedestal only to be laughed at. I knew Trevor was experiencing the same thing to some degree, but it wasn’t the same. The hate on him had calmed. People got over it. When would they get over me? Why couldn’t they just understand that Jack and I wanted to be friends? That we’d never been in love.

The second I got into my home, I discarded every piece of technology I had on myself. My phone, my watch, I ignored the tv and my iPad- my laptop. I made a straight line for my back deck. And when I got outside, I slammed the sliding door as hard as I could. And I cried.

I was using Trevor. Maybe people were right. Maybe I needed a normal boyfriend, with a nine to five job. Somebody who I couldn’t use and take advantage of. Somebody in my league. I just needed to hop my way out of his life and forget about him. I lowered myself into one of my deck chairs, leaning back and raising a hand to wipe at the tears on my cheeks.

Trevor needed a girl who wouldn’t accept his card. Who wouldn’t let him pay for things or gift give so much. He needed a girl who’d take care of him as much as he took care of her. That couldn’t be me. It wasn’t me. Everybody said so.

I focused in when I heard the sound of a door opening, my thoughts forgotten in a flash as I grew concerned about somebody being in my home. I sat still, and waited patiently, until I heard the glass door open. I whipped around, only to relax at the sight of Trevor. He was supposed to make things better.. did I ever make things better for him?

“Hey! I saw you pull in.. I was waiting for you to get back from the book store.” His bashful smile was one I always loved. He hated admitting that he waited for me sometimes.

Trevor quickly presented me with a small box. My face fell.

“I got you something.”

“Trevor.” I sighed out, my hand pinched the bridge of my nose. “You can’t keep buying me things.”

I turned my gaze up to him, frustrated and exhausted.

“It’s just something small. Open it.” He quickly sat down next to me, and when he held the box out, I pushed it away.

“This is the shit they hate me for, Trevor!” I shouted, I quickly took note of the hurt look on his face. “They can’t stand me-“ my voice broke. “Because they think I use you. I don’t use you!” I couldn’t tell if I was trying to convince myself at this point, or the entirety of his fan base.

Tears quickly fell down my cheeks, my face red as I tried to hold in my sobs.

“Hey, hey-“ Trevor set the box aside and pulled me into his side. “I know you don’t use me.” He cooed, his hand rubbing my back while the other grasped my thigh.

“I do. You always pay for things- and.. and I used Jack to get to you.. and I hurt Jack- I hurt Jack because we’re together,” my hysterical bumbling was nonsense. Lies I began to believe because they’d been preached too much. Trevor let me go. He let me go and get it out for as long as I needed to, listening to any and every insecurity and concern. He listened well after the tears settled and I found my composure.

I eventually turned my body to face his own, and buried my head into his shoulder.

“I don’t wanna use you, Trevor,” I choked out. “I love you so much.” He was careful in pulling me into his lap.

“You don’t, baby.. I promise you don’t use me. I love buying you things. And Jack is always telling me about how much you talk about me when he calls. He always tells me it’s nonstop. He’s happy for us. And my team is happy. Hell.. Gibby loves you.”

“Because I’m with you.”

“No. Because you’re so sweet to everybody. Because you treat them all like family, and they love having you around when we have events.”

I gripped the back of Trevor’s t-shirt with one of my hands.

“Why do you love me?” I sniffled, and lifted my face to wipe my tears on my arm. I was certain I looked like shit, but Trevor still lifted my chin to look at me.

“Because there’s nothing to hate.” It sounded extremely cheesy and cliche, but in the moment it calmed me. Nothing worked better than hearing my boyfriend say such kind things.

“There’s a few things,” I argued softly, sniffing again. Trevor cupped my cheeks and wiped the excess tears away with his thumbs.

“Nothing worth hating. Maybe disliking, but not hating.” Trevor stood his ground with a teasing tone. “I couldn’t hate a single piece of you.”

“What about the money?” I lifted my hands to grip his wrists, prying his hands from my face. Trevor sighed.

“It was never about the money until they made it like that. Why’d you start liking me?”

I paused to think, my gaze flickering around the back yard.

“Because you were easy to talk to. And eccentric.” Trevor chuckled.

“Exactly. You never cared. We’ve never even had a discussion on how much I make. I just offer to buy, and you give me such a hassle about it before I win, and I pay.” Trevor paused and smirked. “Most of the time.” My expression softened.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” I released his hands, and Trevor brushed my hair aside with one, while the other went back to wiping away my tears. “We can just ignore all the shit for a while. Try and do one of those social media breaks or something?”

“I think I can do that.” Who was I kidding? I knew I could do that. A social media cleanse with Trevor didn’t sound like such a bad thing. Time to forget about all the stress and focus solely on one another.

“There’s only two of us in this relationship. It’s not me, you, and the world. Yeah?” I never thought of it that way. I quickly nodded.

“When did you get so wise, Zig?” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the bridge of my nose.

“Since I started dating a book worm. You learn a lot from books.”

Who would have thought you could learn from books?

“So..” I sighed out. “One big social media cleanse?”

“You betcha.”

“All apps?”

“All apps.”

“Just me and you.” That wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A newfound relief.

“Just you and me.” Trevor responded as he leaned in and kissed me. After a moment, we pulled away.

I nodded, leaned into him once again, and sighed. Just us. Only us.

“This might be a weird time to ask, but what did you get me?”

“Oh.. yeah it was nothin’ big. Just a Ring Pop in a box. I thought it would be funny.” I stared him down. I narrowed my eyes.

“Fuck you. I want the Ring Pop!”

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#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #anaheim ducks

[kyupidos]

04/8/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

rather melodramatic aren’t you?ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘so it seems, you’ve finally found your way back home.’

characters. first years : ace trappola , deuce spade , jack howl, epel felmier , sebek zigvolt ( separate ) ;; romantic ( implied ) angst . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, angst with romance sprinkled in i s’pose ( can still be friendship seen,, i think.. ), blah blah angst

📡 _a/n. mmmm, been listening to tv girl a lot more like i used to, ended up coming up w this. still not the best w angst but we stay rollin ( also, cigarettes out the window >> )

a. trappola

— he was always the one who kept everyone’s mind off the topic of you going home—making the mood lighter so no one would be upset again, especially you. but ace can’t deny how distraught he is, when it comes the time for you to finally, finally go. he’s happy for you, never doubt for a fact that he is. but there’s that one part of him that never wants to let you go. you’ve been friends all this time, haven’t you? then again, this school year with him has always been more of an experience for you, hm.. like an emotional rollercoaster until you make it home, and things will go back to normal, to your usual.

— he knew that much, that one day you would say your final farewells and that he would have to turn his back and go on with his life, the rest of his school year, without you by his side. without a magicless prefect who turned his world upside down, without a magicless prefect to spend his time with, without a magicless prefect whom he held ever so dear to his heart. maybe your time spent with him was just a waiting game before you could return to your norm. but his time spent with you made his heart full, as if you were everything he wanted and more.

— but he can let go, can’t he? not like he’s making lighthearted jokes here and there, about what it’d be like if you were to stick around, even if for a little while longer. he eventually holds his pinky out to you, in a moment of bitter weakness ( to him and him only ), that if the chance ever comes to fruition that it’s not a one way trip, you’ll return to night raven and stay friends, stay together with him. and it becomes a promise, pinky sworn and all. he tells himself he can swallow his bitter tears and see you off, yet he leaves deep, ragged breaths in his wake when you hug him tightly and tell him you’ll miss him, no matter how the circumstances may end up.

— you should know at least that much, left to digest it as you go back home, that he’ll miss you too—and though he may leave this out, unless he’s caught in a moment of weakness truth, you’ll always be on his mind.

d. spade

— deuce always felt such a pain in his heart whenever he comes to the recollection ( sometimes random, but then comes the times you’re forced to remind him you may not be there forever ), that you’re doomed to leave him behind as you return, to your family, to your friends of before. his hopes for you to see his graduate, to stay together being each other’s best friends, to just stay by each other’s side, he’d accept just being in your proximity. how he loved, and will never stop loving your words of kindness, words that’ll never leave the back of his mind, words he’ll never let go.

— how many times you’ve affirmed and reaffirmed your friendship and fondness toward him with those words, he can’t recall. or maybe he does; he’ll keep those memories with him until the ends of times, and whatever voice messages you may have sent him when you finally got your phone will be treasured and stored forever. oh, but how he’d like to not need that in the first place. how will he go on, without your kind words ringing delightfully in his ears? he’d never be able to bring himself to forget your voice, even if he can’t hear it in the present, he’ll hold it dearly as he looks to the past.

— he could never go against your wishes to return home, though. he knows for a fact it’s all you’ve wanted, and he’ll never say he wouldn’t want the same for himself if he were ever in your situation—he couldn’t even imagine that much, he always commended your strength to get as far as you’ve gotten now. but he finds himself asking you, if you’ll ever forget him. reaffirm him once more with your words; tell him that you won’t for as long as you live. that you’ve treasured the times you’ve spent together.

— because, let it be clear, he’ll treasure those times just as much as you, he’ll treasure them forever, and when forever ends, he’ll treasure them more.

j. howl

— he recalls all those times he shyly managed to bring himself to do little things for you, wake you up in class when you felt tired, remind you to straighten out your uniform, anything to silently tell you he respects and cherishes his friendship with you. jack recalls the times you returned the favor, watering his cacti with him, and thanking him for everything he does. just smiling at him makes him happy. but he accepts, with a heavier than he expected heart, that these times will become nothing one day. a day that’s come and approaches now.

— he’d like to send you off easily, but “easily” will never belong in the end. maybe when your friendship first bloomed he could huff and pout about how you were barely friends, and he just “couldn’t let the bad things happening around you go down the way they were”. but if he didn’t admit how much of a likening he took to the time he’s spent with you, he could never live with himself. still, he knows he’ll have to see your smile only once more before never seeing it again, anyway. he finds it difficult, actually, trying to remember how he spent his time when you weren’t there, a time before you. when in the early mornings you weren’t there to greet him, no matter the mood amongst you.

— but in his heart stays all the things you’ve done for each other, and all the things he still wishes he could do, but he knows time will never stop for that. even so, he’ll praise you for your hard work, everything you’ve done that’s gotten you so far as to return to your loved ones. there’s a part that gnaws at him though, that he’ll have to get used to a routine that doesn’t involve you. it was so often, how you’d greet him and he’d greet you, sometimes you’d eat lunch together and on a good day, maybe you’d join him on a run, even if it did end with you laying against the wall because of how exhausted you were. and he’d scold you, telling you not to overexert yourself.

— at least he’s certain you’ll take care of yourself back home, since he asked carefully about your health and you reassured him. still a shame, though, that he could never introduce you to his family.

e. felmier

— he gifted you a nicely carved apple, once. epel figured you may like it, at least he hoped you would. he’s long since found you cool, someone he saw as the confident, ever so diligent prefect to be admired. but eight’s a crowd; it’ll always be back to seven in the end. you were as beautiful as the apples he’d carve while you were on his mind during evenings, glistening in the sunset, their shine never dulling as they design came to be the longer epel worked. in a sense you were like that—except you’d built yourself up from the ground, keeping yourself strong to bear through the troubles of your time at night raven. and epel’d been your supporter as long as you’d known and been a friend of him.

— and now you bear the fruits of your success, and he’s thankful that he’d managed to bring himself to a smile at the good news that you’d managed to finally find your way back to your own world, the world you belonged to. not the world you’ve only spent a school year in. he’d never bite into a bitter apple on accident, far too acidic with a metallic aftertaste; but it feels like he did, as he thinks of how many apples will have rotten, that one singular apple you ate right before leaving, that you forgot to throw out and left on your old bedside table.

— allow him to hold onto your hands gently, as he whispers to you that he’d like, if ever even possible, for you to return, maybe one day. he’s barely paying attention to that bitter taste, a dry gulp as he tries not to make his upset audible to you, leaving his tears silent. he lets you dry those tears, not even caring that it should be himself doing it, he’ll let himself be taken care of you again just once. he wonders what the apples of your world taste like. you’ve talked about the differences between your worlds before, and how nice your world seems from what you tell, so vastly different compared to his, and he commends you for your commitment to returning. he’d want to return to his own world under your circumstances, too.

— so he clenches onto the hem of his shirt, feeling as though he might give in to his impulsive thoughts if not, his growing desire to never let you go, run up to you and hug you ever so tightly to spend eternity with you.

s. zigvolt

— you’ve always seemed to find a way to make things refreshing. sebek’s read ever so many books in night raven’s library, it’s one of his more favored hobbies after all. and ever since your friendship grew he always seemed to search for your thoughts and opinions more. he doesn’t truly understand, how a human, a magicless one at that, from another world like you managed to find your way by his side. maybe that’s just because you were doomed to leave it. humans were always trouble, right? to think you’d leave this type of stain on him. no, no—he could never blame you. as it goes, right person, wrong time. . . and place.

— he grew to be fond of your commentary, your view of things. there would always be aspects of the two of you respectively that clashed, and yet even so here you were. actually, he thinks about your informal first meeting. how he rolled his eyes indifferent to your figure, considering you just another clumsy human who he knew would stumble about. sure there may have been times you had two left feet, but you sure proved him wrong didn’t you, hm? the title of the ramshackle prefect becoming renowned, a prefect who could never be replaced or mimicked, not you, never you.

— once upon a time, you invited him over to ramshackle to read a book together, one he’d apparently not yet to have read. the evening was lovelier than he’d yet expected, having fun sharing your thoughts together and making light conversation between pages. the evenings to nights feel so much lonelier without you. in literature, it hangs in the silence of its realm, alone as some think it. he once respected it as a nice metaphor within the books he’s read—yet now he seems to sympathize with the moon, its solitude compared to others which had more moons to surround it.

— maybe some day “once upon a time” will turn into “and they lived happy ever after”, and those words will belong to him. and then, he can share them with you.

#🦢 swan signed ! #kyupidos #looks around and drops this here #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twst x gender neutral reader #angst #twst angst #twst hcs #twst headcanons #twst first years #heartslabyul #twst heartslabyul #savanaclaw #twst savanaclaw #pomefiore #twst pomefiore #diasomnia #twst diasomnia #ace x reader #ace x gn reader #deuce x reader #jack x reader #jack x gn reader #epel x reader #epel x gn reader #sebek x reader #sebek x gn reader

[thedirtybeanlife]

Soft Touches || Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Summary: Simon does your skin care routine for you.

warnings: cursing

very full of fluff and soft simon

no mentions of y/n or gender specifications <3

enjoy!!

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I sat on the floor of Simon and I's shared bedroom, rummaging through the small basket that held most of my hair and skin care products. I preferred doing both in the bedroom because of the giant mirror we had next to our dresser. Its length stretched from the floor to the ceiling and had an LED ring around the trim, giving off the perfect amount of light. Indie music played quietly from the speaker of my phone next to me as I quietly hummed along and nodded my head. Grabbing the products I would need, I placed them in a line in front of me; in application order. Just as my hand reached to grab the cleanser, Simon walked into the room, a soft smile reaching his face as his eyes met mine.

“Well don't you look adorable,” he joked, taking in my fluffy bathrobe and fuzzy headband keeping the hair from my face.

I playfully rolled my eyes and started opening the cleanser bottle and dabbing some onto a cotton round, gently scrubbing away the grime and makeup from today. Simon’s voice sounded once again stopped me in my tracks.

“Can I do it?” I had never heard his voice go so soft and timid in the entire ten years I'd known the burly man.

“Of course you can, Baby. C’mere.” my smile and voice were warm and welcoming as I nodded for him to come join me.

He got up, slowly making his way over to me. Sitting down next to me, I watched as his eyes scanned the various bottles and jars of product. His face was contorted in visible confusion and wonder which caused me to let out a small laugh.

“What’re you laughin’ for, Love? Something funny?” he asked, eyebrow cocked with a small smirk resting on his lips.

“You look so lost. It’s cute.” I teased, lightly bumping my shoulder into his.

“I’ll show you cute…” and with that he gently grabbed a hold of my ankles, suddenly pulling me across the short distance on the hardwood floor to sit between his legs.

My legs were over top his thighs, resting on the floor behind him while our noses were practically touching. His eyes bored into mine, making my face flush at the close proximity.

“We've been married for seven years, and I can still make you freeze up and blush.” he teased back, lips ghosting over my own.

With my breath being ripped away from me at his intense stare and playful words, the only thing I could think to do was close the gap between us. Our lips met, his rough ones slowly moving against my softer ones, the passion just as alive as it was during our first kiss. It was always like that. Every kiss from Simon was searing hot in the best way possible. Pulling away, my forehead rested against his, smiles on both our faces.

“Can we get back to what we're supposed to be doing before we get side tracked and ruin my skin care routine?” I joked, hands grabbing his much larger ones and lacing our fingers together.

“What’s first?” Simon asks, thumbs rubbing circles on the backs of my hands.

“Well since I just cleaned everything off, toner.” I declared, grabbing the small bottle and handing it to him as well as another cotton round,” All you do is pour a little on there and wipe it around my face. Just watch the eyes, please.”

He nodded, flipping the lid open and squeezing some of the liquid onto the cotton. Ever so slowly, he dragged the pad across my face, careful to avoid my eyes. After a few more seconds he pulled away, eyes scanning my face.

“Now what?” he asked with excitement in his voice, eyes darting to the array of skin care products beside us.

“Serum, but be careful. This shit will run in your eyes so fast if you aren't careful. You can’t use too much or it’ll make me look oily too. Two or three drops should be more than enough. Maybe just on my cheeks and one on my forehead to be safe, yeah?”

He nodded as I handed him the bottle. He spun the small glass bottle in his hand, examining the label before twisting and pulling out the dropper. Simon’s thumb and forefinger softly gripped my chin, leaning my head back some so he could get a better angle. He was careful to avoid my eyes and mouth as he squeezed the handle of the dropper, letting a drip fall on each cheek and my forehead.

“Do I just rub it in?” he asked quietly, hand still holding my head back.

I let out a small hum, letting him know he was right. My eyes immediately fluttered shut as his calloused hands rubbed soft circles into my skin. He chuckled at how pliant I became at his touch, placing a kiss to the top of my head. He spent a few extra minutes (definitely more than he needed to) rubbing the serum into my skin before pulling away and grabbing the second to last item.

Simon grabbed the small sample jar of my night time eye mask, the jar comically small in his hands. Watching me apply this multiple times before, he swiftly opened the jar and applied two small dots of it under each eye. He closed the jar and sat it back in the basket with my other stuff before using his middle finger to gently rub the cream into the skin under and around my eyes. Once finished, he grabbed my bottle of moisturizer, squirting some into his hand and dotting it around my face. Using three of his fingers, Simon rubbed the lotion into my skin just as gently as he had everything else, if not more. A content sigh left my lips as he finished, placing a kiss on my temple.

“And done. Let's get you dressed and into bed, beautiful.” he allowed me to un-straddle him and scoot back some before he stood, offering a hand to help me up.

I of course took it and followed him over to our closet where he grabbed one of his shirts and playfully tossed it over my head making me giggle loudly. Quickly discarding my robe, I threw the shirt over my head and turned to look at Simon who was gawking at me like he had never seen me in his clothes before. Rolling my eyes at his behavior, I grabbed his hand and dragged him with me to our bed. We both climbed in, Simon immediately pulling me into his chest, our legs intertwining.

“Try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?” I spoke into his chest, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Only if you do the same, Love.” he whispered, thumb stroking my exposed hip.

“Mm only for you, Si.”

#xreader #fanfiction #call of duty mw2 #oneshot #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #fanfic #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon riley x reader #x reader

[marchtooctober]

It's been long since i last posted! Since we still have another two weeks before the next chapter, here's a one-shot to keep us company. Enjoy 😉

It had been raining the whole afternoon, something that was missed off by the weather forcast. The ever-ready Loid marched the road to the subway with his umbrella.

"I guess I have no choice..." He quietly mumbled as he decided to go by one of his shortcuts to cut off his time of travel.

With quick but careful steps, he walked through isolated alleyways. Nothing seems to be out of ordinary until he passed by the old closed-down shop.

"Yor?!"

"Loid?"

By rare instance, he ran into Yor who was taking shelter from the rain.

"You're taking shelter here?"

"Yes. I didn't bring an umbrella. I didn't know it will be raining this afternoon." Yor replied.

Loid thought that Yor would be home by now that's why it surprised him to see her. He wondered how she ended up there.

"My work at the hospital ended later than usual so I got off just now. How about you? How long have you been stranded? How did you ended up here?"

"Actually, I wanted to borrow some books from the library so I went there but it was already closed. And then it started to rain before I could make it to the station."

"Maybe we should get going. Anya is probably home by now. We have to go home quick and prepare dinner. Let's hurry so we can still catch the train." Loid said with a glance on his watch.

"But I don't have an umbrella."

"We can share mine."

Yor stared at Loid with widened eyes.

"Share? But..." Her voice trailed off.

She thought if by agreeing to it would mean intrusion of Loid's personal space. Is the umbrella even big enough to cover them in the first place?

Loid must have noticed her hesitation.

"Don't worry, it's big enough for us." He said in reassurance.

"W-Well then..."

And so the two of them stepped out of the shelter and carefully walked the drenched street. Loid held the umbrella while Yor held his briefcase. At first they were able walk just fine but Yor is slowly walking out of pace.

It finally dawned on her that their closeness under the umbrella is making her uneasy.

She knew that there's nothing wrong with sharing an umbrella together. But she wondered if it is a mandatory thing for couples to always share an umbrella, despite only doing this for the first time. They are a couple, though a fake one at that. Yor told herself that she ought to get used to having to share and doing things together. That this is also part of a married couple's normalcy.

While Yor thought of all these things, Loid tried to keep up with her walking pace. In doing so, he could not avoid brushing against her shoulder. He did not think too much of it but he thinks that he is still fine with this proximity. So far, he's been able to match up with Yor. But when they reached the end of block, Yor suddenly took a wrong footing on the cracked pavement and almost tripped. In a flash, Loid's hand grabbed Yor by the shoulder and pulled her close.

"Oops! That was close! Be careful on your steps."

"T-Thank you, Loid. And I-I'm sorry!"

The sudden gesture certainly saved Yor from being hurt and drenched but it did no good to her current state of mind. She was about to combust from anxiety and embarrassment. She could feel the pressure of Loid's hand despite her thick coat. Loid again noticed her reaction.

"Are you o-"

Loid was cut off by a low rumble. Then came a sudden gust that blew the rain against them. The rain poured stronger.

"Let's stop there for a while."

"Okay."

They hurried to the turn of the street where they stopped outside the nearby establishment. They were barely sheltered but it was better than walking in the strong downpour. Loid kept his umbrella open to add protection from the rain. Then he turned to Yor.

"How are you, Yor? Are you alright? You look feverish."

The man didn't know that Yor's feverish countenance had nothing to do with fever at all. The few minutes they spent close together under the umbrella felt longer and Yor was relieved to be freed from the queasy feeling she had to endure.

"No, no, it's nothing! I'm fine... How about you? You've been holding the umbrella for me. Aren't you drenched?" Yor tried diverting the question.

"I'm okay. I'm not that wet."

"It seems like we're stuck again... How about if I go home first? I can just run all the way-"

"No, Yor! You can't risk getting sick. It will be safer to wait for a little while." Loid protested and thought for a moment if Yor really meant to run all the way home.

"But no one is with Anya."

"Anya is with Bond. They are probably having fun together watching cartoons. Besides, she can be more independent than you might imagine." Loid reasoned, trying to convince himself too at the same time.

"I hope so."

After that, silence ensued and only the rain can be heard. The rain is giving no sign of faltering. Loid and Yor start to feel the dampness through their coats. The both of them are rather confident on their own that they won't get sick even if they dashed out in the rain. But so as to not worry the other, they opted to stay put.

Quickly, more and more people took shelter with them. And as the place became more crowded, Loid and Yor had to adjust closer until they're practically stuck together. Yor felt the agitation coming back again and Loid also realized his own uneasiness.

What felt like an hour was only a mere span of fifteen minutes. It's been only fifteen minutes since Loid and Yor walked through the rain under the same umbrella.

It was only a short time. But they both knew that it will take more than a strong downpour to wash the memory away.

#spy x family #sxf fanfic #yor forger #loid forger #sxf #loiyor #loiyor fanfic #twiyor #yeyeyey #i still hate rain and flood right now but I'll surely love a rainy day chapter focusing on loiyor 🤩😍

[heliads]

Hello! Sorry if this request is too vague, please let me know, but I wanted to request a Tony Stark x reader Soulmate AU

Thank u have a good day/night :)

it was a little vague lol which is why i had the people vote in a poll. your soulmate au is that every time soulmates are close but don't meet, they repeat the same day until they do meet. enjoy!

masterlist

Tony Stark is beginning to think that he’s lived through this day before.

He’s no stranger to deja vu, or not as much as anyone else, at least. Usually, his days and nights are so bizarre that he has no problem differentiating any given set of twenty-four hours. Aliens only tend to invade the planet once every few weeks, inhumans only go bad once a month, and so he has time in between ends of days to tell which Monday is which.

Still, there’s today, and Tony swears that today has already happened. He woke up this morning, bleary-eyed and not in his own bed. He’d stayed up past his necessary bedtime in the lab again, a practice which is frowned upon by most but produces the results he needs. Maybe that’s why his head isn’t clear. Either that, or someone’s trying to kill him again.

Tony opens his eyes in a mess of gears and wires and thinks, didn’t he just clean that up? Rhodey’s been after him recently to get his shit together, which obviously hasn’t happened yet, given the fact that Hurricane Machine Parts has had yet another landfall on his chosen sleeping desk. Tony blinks unhappily at the bits and bobs scattered helter-skelter in front of him and chooses to solve his problems the usual way, by sweeping everything into a nearby bin and pretending everything is fine.

An alarm goes off on his phone and Tony glares at it before the panic surges. That’s not meant to wake him up, that’s meant to get him out the door in time to make it to a conference. Tony is giving a speech on, well, something he was supposed to remember. Something important. In the end, does it really matter? He’ll say something snarky and possibly brilliant, then pepper in the fact that he’s Iron Man and saves everyone’s asses on a weekly basis so no one can complain. It’s a wonderful scare tactic.

Tony is aware of the fact that he should know what he’s doing, but why should he care when no one else does? Regardless of what he says, he’ll get the same reaction. Everyone in the audience is just there in the hopes that being in the proximity of a billionaire will improve their own trajectory in life. 

Tony used to pour his heart and soul into press conferences and scientific discussions until he looked out into the audience one day and realized that no one was paying attention in the slightest. They were pretending marvelously, of course, even had him fooled up until that point, but their focus was just superficial. They nodded along self-importantly with every one of his bullet points, but their heart wasn’t in it, so why should his? 

Besides, he gives one of these talks what feels like every day, so it’s not like he’ll have anything new to say anyway. Tony did one of these exact things yesterday, even slept late too. He can’t remember where this conference is being held, nor where yesterday’s was, or even the location of tomorrow’s talk. He’ll ask Happy in the car. Surely his head of security should be aware of where Tony is going.

One rushed morning routine later, Tony is in the car, knuckles clenched bone-white around the steering wheel. Happy has to give him course corrections only three times, increasingly let down with each one. Tony reads between the lines in each and every pursed lip, wincing with the disappointed side eyes. Yes, he’s a trainwreck, yes he’s worse than ever, but does he really have to be reminded of that right now?

Tony makes it to the function in time, smooths his tie and waves soullessly to the press. A woman greets him at the door. Her lipsticked smile says, We’re glad to have you! Her pained stare says, Why are you only here thirty seconds before the show begins?

Tony has no excuses, so he doesn’t give them, only recites the usual dialogue about how delighted he is to be at this conference. You know, the conference. The one for this day, the day that’s different from all the others. 

Tony settles into his seat on stage once the moderator introduces him. The funniest thing happens as he waits for the crowd to finish cheering. Although this could be just brushed off as Tony obviously not being as focused as he could be, he swears that this moment seems familiar. The moderator is wearing a rather lurid lime green coat, and wasn’t it just yesterday that Tony was thinking to himself that the man resembled the Grinch if he tried to go corporate?

Tony tears his gaze from the moderator to the crowd. No, this time he’s sure of it. The woman in the front row, left aisle, with the navy jacket asked him a tough question on the possibility of nuclear energy in the future just yesterday. The balding man on the far right nearly knocked himself out trying to get Tony to take a photo with him as he left the event. This is all the exact same as it was before. He has been here before, and if his suspicions are correct, he will repeat this exact same day again and again until he can get something right. Something crazy. Something like a soulmate.

God, Tony didn’t really think he’d get to this point. Soulmates are hypothetically for everybody, but it wouldn’t surprise Tony if they would skip a guy like him. It’s said you can go your entire life without meeting your soulmate, that you end up falling in love with whoever will make do and doing your best to forget that you were slighted by fate’s best gift to humanity. Something about Tony always seemed to fit that bill to a T. Maybe he’d manufacture destiny by finding someone he could love instead. He has always liked to Macgyver his way out of difficult problems, so conjuring up a soulmate out of conjecture would not be his worst hat trick.

Yet here Tony is, stuck in the soulmate loop. There’s only one way to know for sure to know that you’ve met your soulmate. More specifically, there’s only one way to know that you’re meant to meet your soulmate on a particular day:  you can’t get out of the same set of twenty-four hours.

The lore goes like this:  if you end up in close proximity to your soulmate without actually meeting them, you’ll have to repeat the same day over and over until the two of you make contact. Tony’s parents apparently took five days to get to know each other, but that’s on the low end. He’s heard of bad cases that took months of the same damn day for two people to finally figure each other out. And in a city like this, a place like New York? There are quite literally millions of people who could possibly cross Tony’s path. God, he might even be here for years.

It’s a flawed system, that’s for sure, but Tony has no way to fix this. None at all. The only thing he can do is start going about the process of fixing things. So his soulmate’s somewhere in this day, and it’s someone he’s never met. Maybe they were in the parking garage at the same time as him. Maybe they’re somewhere in this conference center. Maybe they were walking outside Stark Tower when he goes home for late night work.

There are so many places and so many possibilities that it’s starting to freak Tony out, so much so that he almost misses it when the moderator starts asking him questions. Were it not for the fact that Tony’s already lived through this once, he might have stumbled a little. Thankfully, he remembers enough of what he said last time that the words flow like water, giving Tony some space to think about his soulmate instead of which brand of coffee he attributes to giving him the most energy to seize his day. That’s a stupid question anyway.

This also helps him the next day, and the next day, and the next. One week of todays later, Tony is ready to scream. He knew the process of finding one’s soulmate would be difficult, but he didn’t count on it being this difficult. Tony is already going out of his way to meet new people, but even then, how would he know which stranger of dozens is actually his soulmate? 

At this point, Tony would settle for just getting out of the loop altogether, soulmate be damned. Maybe that’s not the right attitude to have, but it’s his nonetheless. Every day, he works late into the night, and every morning, all of his progress is gone. Tony can’t even note his discoveries on his phone because his memos clear out overnight, all those breakthroughs vanished into pixels of days past. Happy tells him that he looks tense. Tony fights the urge to hurl himself through a glass window. Such is the way of life.

He tries to look for the bright side of things, if he can’t think about anything else. It’s nice that he gets so many days guaranteed without threats made on his life. If he sticks to schedule, Tony always makes it to the crosswalk in front of the conference center right when the walking man appears. There’s this pretty girl in the back of the auditorium who always gives him this encouraging smile when he takes the stage, like even though Tony starts each show feeling like a trainwreck, she knows he’s going to be alright no matter what.

There are resources available to him. Tony’s had plenty of time to look. There are scores of websites online dedicated to people stuck in a loop and trying to find their soulmate. So long as you don’t mind making the same post every single morning, you can tell people where you’re located and see if you can track down someone in your vicinity. Tony’s been visiting them as of late, hovering over discussion boards like they’ll give him any sort of clue.

Four weeks of the same day. Four weeks of getting nowhere. Tony runs into traffic so he can stare into car windows. He lurks in coffee shops. Pepper thinks he’s going insane, but she changes her mind every twenty-four hours when the day resets, so he doesn’t have it in himself to care much. He just needs to get out of this day. He just needs his life back.

Some part of him wonders, too, who this person must be. Would they be kind or clever? Are they trying half as hard to find him as he is? Have they given up on him already? Tony would like to think that they’re fighting a battle for him, but who truly knows in the end. All he remembers is the same day over and over again.

Then, just when desolation is starting to kick in, Tony sees something. It’s a message on one of a thousand soulmate finding sites. Anyone stuck in today for a really long time? Thirty-three repetitions and counting. I’m in NYC if anyone else is out there. I keep going to Tony Stark’s conference at 10am, but not even his motivational speeches can keep me hopeful for much longer.

Tony almost chokes, then laughs, then lets himself wonder. Thirty-three days sounds about right, and if they’re in the audience of one of his shows, then maybe–

He hits reply before he can stop himself. Also in NYC, also 33 days. 

Tony doesn’t dare say anything else. On the car ride over to his conference, Happy asks him why he looks so confused. “It’s like you’re excited about something but you’re trying to pretend you’re not. What, have you annoyed another competitor into folding?” His head of security comments.

“No,” Tony mutters, “and besides, that was only one time. It’s not going to happen again.”

“You tell yourself that,” Happy chuckles, and then they’re at the conference center and they don’t have much to talk about anything, business ventures or soulmates or otherwise.

Tony checks his phone before he goes onstage. The person has responded to him. Wait, really? Where are you?

Tony glances around him. One of the event hosts, that passive aggressive woman, is coming to escort him to the stage, so he doesn’t have much time. Conference center. The one where Stark is speaking.

Then he’s on stage again, repeating the same stupid answers for the same bad questions. Now that he’s been here a couple dozen times, Tony can confirm that they really, really need to get better topics for him to discuss. He would be dozing off were it not for the fact that his soulmate might actually be somewhere in this building. Maybe somewhere in the same hall.

The interview ends, and Tony dares breach public etiquette by pulling out his phone. The stranger has replied again. I’m there too! What’s your seat number? Maybe we can finally break out of this.

Actually, Tony says, I’m the one on stage.

Tony looks around for someone, sees no one, tries to hide his despair. He stands on that stage for a little too long, past the point where the moderator is standing there blankly, grin frozen and eyes wide with the same expression everyone gets when someone does something they shouldn’t in a public setting.

One of Tony’s aides appears out of nowhere, gently tugging on his arm to get him to move off stage. Just as he goes, though, he hears a shout from somewhere in the back of the auditorium.

“Wait! It’s me!”

Tony cannot describe it, this certainty looming in his chest, but he knows it’s his soulmate. They’re here. He whips his head around even as his aide yanks him away. Tony sees a blur of faces, someone pushing through the crowd in the aisle, but the face–

Nothing. No one he can recognize. No one he could find later. They’re a woman, that’s all he’s learned. Tony frantically checks his phone, sees a message saying that she’s figured him out. Tony tries to fight to stay around longer, but now Happy’s determined he’s delusional and Tony is all but packaged into his car and driven away. He’s put on house arrest once he gets back, Pepper and Happy taking turns asking what the hell has gotten into him. Tony tries to explain, but they don’t want to listen. No matter how many times you’ve repeated the same day, you wouldn’t be acting like this. Please be rational.

Tony doesn’t want to be rational, though, he wants to find his damn soulmate. He tries to message his soulmate that he can’t get out of the house, but she’s not answering her phone. Just before the day ends, Tony memorizes her username and prays she’ll have the same one the next iteration of the loop.

He messages her the second he wakes. Is it still you?

Yeah, she says, my phone died, sorry. What happened?

My friends staged an intervention. Apparently I’m acting irrationally.

He can practically sense her laughing on the other end. Repeating the same day 34 times will do that to you.

That’s what I tried to say, he replies, but did they believe me? No.

There’s about a minute pause, and then they message again. Do you think we can do it today? Try to meet again?

I think we can try, Tony says, and that does it.

They make plans. Tony gets ready early. He lingers backstage, waiting, checking his phone every ten seconds. Happy must pick up on this tension, because when he approaches Tony about eight minutes after they arrive, he lingers on the edges of Tony’s peripheral vision, not wanting to interrupt whatever is clearly wrong with him.

“What is it?” Tony asks, distracted.

“There’s someone here for you,” Happy says slowly, “They say they’re your, uh, soulmate. Should I just tell them to leave?”

Tony feels his eyes grow wide. This is not the first time someone has tried to meet him by playing the soulmate card. He gets it:  he’s rich, he’s distracted, of course someone would try it. This, however, might be the first time it was real.

“Yeah,” Tony says, “it’s them. Where is she?”

Happy blinks, surprised. “Wait, you’re serious? It’s actually–” At Tony’s exasperated hand waving, Happy hurries himself along. “Sorry, sorry. She’s waiting by the door.”

Happy might be saying something else, but Tony doesn’t hear it. He’s already spinning around, walking as fast as his dress shoes will let him. There’s a woman standing by the east exit. She looks nervous, and half a second after he sees her Tony realizes that she’s the pretty woman from his show. He saw her every single day, and he never even knew it was her.

Tony wondered what it would be like to meet your soulmate after so many days of waiting, if there was any way of knowing for sure that it was them. So many weeks later, Tony has an answer:  you feel it in your chest, right between your ribs, an electric shock that makes his entire body stand alert.

She must feel it too, because all of a sudden she looks up from where she’s been scanning the crowd and her eyes land on him. She smiles, and it’s because of him. No other reason. Just him.

Words are hard to come by. Should he say something impactful, the perfect sentiment for such an important moment? Surely this is a time for something to remember. Tony’s been repeating this day for a while, though, never truly believing it would come to an end, so when his mental wheels stop spinning, all he can do is something simple, something real.

“Hi,” he says, “I’m Tony.”

She grins at him. He doesn’t know that he’s ever seen an expression so sweet.

“I’m Y/N,” she replies, “it’s great to finally meet you.”

marvel tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver

#tony stark #tony stark imagines #tony stark x reader #tony stark oneshot #iron man #iron man imagines #iron man x reader #iron man oneshot #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #marvel oneshot #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #soulmate au #tony stark soulmate au #marvel soulmate au

[shinjisdone]

To Soften a Warrior's Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 3)

In which you have joined Askeladd's band...and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine...

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn's heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]

Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age

Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)

Part 4 is here - Thorfinn unwittingly opening his heart as he realizes he does not want you to die

Part 5.1 is here - sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 5.2 is here - other sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 6 is here - Becoming Canute's guard while Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond

Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge

Part 8 is here - Thorfinn wins against Thorkell; Questioning your bond with Thorfinn

Part 9 is here - Meeting Leif and Thorfinn dueling Askeladd; Losing while Askeladd told him the truth of his constant losses

Part 10 is here - Thorfinn and you bound by heart; Promises of Vinland broken and abandoned

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Only mentioned and used as examples. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: You and Thorfinn used as bait, surviving and injured while no one cares about your well-being, nightmares]

You are no warrior...

That cold spring night had long passed yet Thorfinn realized something that night.

You were different.

You weren't like the other men, or Askeladd nor were you like him.

During your conversation you seemed so...normal.

It was difficult to explain to even himself but he could feel it. You give off a normalcy that isn't present with any of the other men. It made you stand out like a sour thump.

Not that you had never stood out with your age. Maybe you even had talents and skills that were unseen but useful on the sea but it was your aura that changed that night.

You were smiling, you seemed like a normal person.

Unwittingly, it made Thorfinn seek out your company.

Thorfinn is...very much suffering from tunnel vision with the only target his eye can see being Askeladd's neck. He is too deep in his quest for revenge that he truly doesn't note the shift of his daily routine.

Ever since you brought him some food on that lonely boat, you end up eating dinner with him instead of the others. It came naturally to you as well, though it is hard to tell if you are aware of this budding friendship or not (unlike Thorfinn).

You sit in close proximity, on boat and camp and simply talk. Conversations are usually not as deep and personal as it was that night but there were certainly a few times. Perhaps you mentioned your own family or your home, a trinket you had or held dear. The blonde might show you his dagger but he doesn't go any further than that. He does listen to you though.

Since you eat dinner together, it just makes sense you hunt together. Or at least, someone gathers a few mushrooms and the other kills a bunny, the one who is better at cooking, cooks, etc.... It's less about team work and more about saving time and resources, doing the logical thing. Neither of you can complain though when preparing dinner like this means you won't starve.

Simple things like getting a bucket of water for the other to wash your face with or leading both of your horses (which the band stole) out of the barn are done wordlessly. There is no need to discuss about this or exchange thanks, the both of you simply....started doing these things. Nobody even knows if you and Thorfinn are aware of your actions and their meanings.

Askeladd raises a brow and keeps a close eye on you two. For one, Thorfinn isn't dedicating all his time on revenge even as it still stays as his priority. It always will. That's how stupid the boy is.

The man decides to sit back and watch this...bond unravel from a distance. He won't make a comment, not even a peep about it. It's too subtle and there's too little of it anyway for the others to even notice and say something themselves.

Askeladd has a certain talent. There's something that makes it easy for him to see right through Thorfinn - the boy is so obliviously predictable, too - and while he may not know all the thoughts running through his thick head, the leader can tell the reason why the blonde may be flocking to you. You talk about mundane things, every day things, you take in the sea's salty scent, you silently enjoy the rare sun's rays by yourself if one were to pay attention to you and not for your usefulness for once .

You are the constant calm while the band is the raging storm in this viking life.

You keep on clinging on normalcy. You are still young after all.

Of course anyone would be staying close to you, then.

He'll just sit back and watch...and learn...

Of course, constanct normalcy in the life of a mercenary is almost non-existent.

Just try to deny it, but your coldheartedness on the battlefield and within the band is what kept you alive.

Hence why there is no hesitation in your movements as you cut down one man after another.

Conquering the London Bridge is insane but Askeladd has always been a risk taker - and the only ones who might truly lose anything are either you and Thorfinn or Thorkell.

Knowing how your prowess doesn't compare to Thorfinn's, you were only tasked to get rid of the "flies" - any soldier who gets too close to Thorfinn, while he focuses on taking out Thorkell the Tall.

The enemy will most likely be startled that they are head-on attacked by kids. You would have to endure their surprise and mockery first- especially if the kids are one dual-wielding dwarf and the other a young woman (not even a shield maid!). Nevertheless, enemy is enemy. Someone has to fall.

Quickly you find out though that the infamous Thorkell the Tall has no interest in you and instead demands a one-on-one fight with Thorfinn. You snap your gaze around as the soldiers step back to give the two space and basically stopped attacking in general.

You watch further back, peeking between the blades as Thorkell absolutely destroys Thorfinn. No one dares to support the giant as he throws the boy around like a rag doll. You contemplate whether or not to help but it's already too late. You're too weak to fight a monster like that, surrounded by capable soldiers who obey his ridicilous whims - and before you can bat an eye, the band is leaving.

"Shit, they're leaving us behind!" Your yell snapped a few men back into reality and, as quickly as you could, you stabbed an archer through the chest, took his crossbow and aimed at Thorkell's arm, which was holding onto a limp Thorfinn. With a surprised noise the man easily caught it in other hand, the metal barely piercing his thick skin.

He could barely take in your glare before arrows were raining down after you as you jumped into the sea. You couldn't look back to the blonde as you swam for your life.

As pointless as your attack seemed, it distracted the viking long enough for Thorfinn to cut through his iron grip and swim right after you. He only focused on not swallowing any water as Thorkell yelled out a promise of reunion - the blonde couldn't care less.

The mushy riverbank seemed like heaven as you clung on mud.

Spitting out the sludge you trotted out of the water and were able to recognize the familiar bandmates marching on the dry road. Thorfinn closely trailed after.

The laughter and chatter of the men was hard to ignore and Thorfinn could even make out Askeladd watching you two. They marched on without you.

Coughing, you stumbled. You could hear the blonde reseting his dislocated shoulder with a grunt, sucking in a deep breath. Wordlessly he trotted to you as you watched, preplexed and beside yourself.

He leaned down and you finally understood why you were so slow. An arrow hit the side of your upper thigh and he was in the middle of taking it out. With no hesitation, he pulled it swiftly and bandaged it rather poorly with all the (already) ripped clothes he could find on himself and you.

Trying to surpress the pain, you and him hobbled as you followed the band. You heard Thorfinn let out profanities as he glared at Askeladd, but that was all that there was to it.

That day felt empty. Emptier than others, even as you felt nothing but anger at Askeladd for letting this happen and at you, for going through with it. Thorfinn doesn't even realize he's being used as a tool.

Even so...through these empty, excruciating days, you still had each other.

The scenes that I used to dream of...

The daily battles and duels for revenge were the same...even as Askeladd's plans change. Now he was eager to 'rescue' the prince of Denmark.

Even still through all of that, you were the only one who cared enough to help Thorfinn out of trouble. Usually lethal ones. He had long given up to ask what your goal is and has accepted your aid.

It seems...like this is just how you are.

No matter what your reason might be, you help him. Maybe...even see an equal in him, a friend...

These thoughts only started to enter his head once he dreamed of his father again. And he was talking about you.

Again, the place was not Iceland but the people he saw there were his home. Helga, Ylva, Thors and the rest of the villagers are living their daily, humble lives as Thorfinn sits on his father's shoulders as a child. The conversations were different for once, however.

"One can count themeself lucky when they have people who care for them."

Thorfinn, with an exaggerated, childish sigh, would agree and boldly let out that, yes, he knows his mother and sister love him. And he cares for them too.

Thors' smile lasted briefly. "I know you do," he turns away and frowns, "But that knowledge alone cannot help a man on the battlefield. Even as you have to endure everything, my son, appreciate the small things you have now."

As always, the dream quickly ended and turned into a nightmare.

As the days stayed still and monotone, there were only a few things that changed in Thorfinn's daily life. His blooming companionship with you and his dreams.

Both of you were probably healed by now and maybe you even let Askeladd know of his deadly haughtiness, saying how it could have costed your and Thorfinn's life while he wouldn't have gained anything. The rage in your vocie subsided as it turned soft when you thanked the blonde boy for patching you up that day. You even told him to take it easy until you will 'save' that prince.

You were not in high spirits after the clash with Thorkell the Tall but that did not affect your behavior towards him. That is something even he noticed.

Oddly enough, his dream picked up where it left. Or maybe his father was not done yet.

With a pout, young six-year-old Thorfinn grumpily asks him what he means. All he needs is his family here.

Thors agrees and adds that there is not a need for anything else, including revenge. He should learn to let it go, especially when he isn't alone now. "You shouldn't have to endure this in the first place, Thorfinn. But don't you think it all is easier now, now that you have a friend?"

Yet again, Thorfinn wakes up.

Friend?

What on earth is his father talking about?

Since waking up, Thorfinn feels beside himself. His dreams always left him like this but it was truly perplexing why...his father, his father would ever talk about something like this. About someone like you, who he doesn't even know...

The march towards the rescue of the prince went on without any trouble. Unfortunely for you and your mood, the royalty had been captured by Thorkell and you dislike remembering the meeting (anyone would really). It doesn't help that Askeladd is only doing this to win the king's favor while you keep on risking your life...it makes you wonder what you're fighting for.

Thorfinn is next to you as you tell him of your troubles, eerily quiet. He keeps on glancing to you but doesnt speak. You wonder if you angered him.

"Hey, Thorfinn, how do you feel about this? You got hurt the most back then." You ask curiously and the blonde paused.

He glanced at you again. "If I have to fight him to get a duel with the bastard, I will. It's that easy. What do you think?" He scoffed at the last part, thinking how stupid of a question that is and tells you so. Haven't you been watching his duels with Askeladd the past months, the past year?

In return you sternly tell him that his decision is stupid and thats going to get him killed. His eyes snap open as his father's words echoed in his mind as you glared at him and he went quiet once again.

Night approached and it was time to rest. Once again, Thorfinn and you are eating the dinner you hunted together. The both of you are quietly doing so until you speak up - and Thorfinn could not help but finally let out what he's been wondering ever since his dream.

You could be complimenting him for the catch or that the meat tastes better than usual. Perhaps you point out how tired he seems and that he can go ahead and sleep - you'll keep watch.

Thorfinn stops in his tracks and stares at you wide-eyed.

"Why...are you doing this?"

You halt and question what he's talking about. This isn't the first time you've said something like that but it seems this one was one too many for Thorfinn.

"Why are you doing this for me? What are you doing here?"

He thought he'd long given up on asking you that question but this...is bothering him. He's not upset nor suspects you of anything, he is simply confused. Why are you like this? Not like the others?

Your wide eyes soften so much they narrow. You return to eating your rabbit. "...Why should I be any different. I don't want to get used to this...not at all. You see it too, don't you? Everyone else here...are monsters. But I don't know what I am doing here, not really I think..."

Turning back to him, you look at him sternly yet your eyes seemed...vulnerable. That's a first for him too...or maybe you've always been hiding it.

"And out of everyone, I guess I can do these things for you...I don't want to end up like Askeladd, like the band, enjoying the killing and the raiding and the stealing...and you've been doing things for me too, so I suppose you aren't bad yourself, Thorfinn."

If the blonde doesn't believe you, you point out his deeds. He saves you, patches you up, he hunts for the both of you even though he doesn't have to do any of this. He never had to. Thorfinn could have easily ignored all the 'favors he owed you' and simply used you. But he didn't and he continues not to do so.

"If it's you and you keep on being like this...then I guess I don't mind doing any of these things for you."

Thorfinn stares at you as his shocked face morphed back to his usual pout. He isn't upset though, you can tell.

"You're really strange."

As he says this, you chuckle and quickly add all his negative traits too. He's quick to anger, always pouts, acts smarter than he is...

Thorfinn's classic scoff returns and he hushes you with a playful 'shut up.'

I don't need their choice or voice to judge me...

As much as he cannot believe it, Thorfinn is thankful that he started to dream less and less.

He respected his father, loved him dearly. The man was full of wisdom and candidness that it hurt. Thorfinn is too childish and too stubborn to listen to the truth. He does not learn from his mistakes.

When sleep would take over him he would not dream of a single thing and only see empty darkness until he was greeted by the rising sun or the star's shine. In these brief moments, you were there too.

You are strange for sticking around and so was he for letting it all happen and seeking you out. He acts and talks with you as if you have known each other forever - or at least, know what kind of person the other really is.

Letting the injured one lean on the other, joke about the other men who you deplore behind their back (and snicker when they look over their shoulder and not get what you are talking about - peak teenage behaviour) and share the same sleeping spot, either on camp or in an abandoned barn. Neither of you feel comfortable around the others. Only around each other.

Yes, only you two seemed to hold any kind of values, any kind of honor even if you are still part of a band that murders, steals and raids. Monsters that destroy people's lives. Thorfinn is sure of that when he first stares at you and then glances at the other bandmates. None of them compare to what you two are.

But just like how the strong kill the weak has always been the way of the world, Thorfinn's dreams come back to haunt him tenfold.

It was as if Thors himself came to punish him for ignoring his advices.

A nightmare so vivid and brutal it left him sweating in his sleep. He'd twist and turn in the hay, panting and whimpering - and in one brisk motion, body drenched in ice-cold sweat, Thorfinn shot up his arm in an attempt to save his father from the raining arrows.

Brown eyes snapped open and he heard a clasp. Slowly his vision cleared and he finally saw you.

Your worried face looked down on him as he laid there, you kneeling beside him with your hand clasping his outstretched one. You almost looked disturbed by the things you heard and saw him do in his sleep.

"...Thorfinn."

The boy took deep breaths as his lips gingerly parted. He struggled with something, you noted.

"...Father...?"

Your face fell and your eyes widened. With an unreadable expression you slowly helped the blonde sit up. However, like a father, you spoke softly to him.

It was just a dream, you were dreaming, you said. You're here, Thorfinn and nowhere else.

He blinked and ran a calloused hand through his hair. This was the old barn reeking of manure he fell asleep in with you. Thorfinn is quiet as he glances around. You ever so carefully ask what happened.

He shakes his head. Grumbling under his breath he hides his face behind his palms as if trying to recall the nightmare. You are quiet yourself as you hesitate.

You try to reason with him to go back to sleep if possible. Nudge him to remember that he yet again earned a duel with Askeladd which he'll have tomorrow. The boy growls, talking about how he can't stand to see him right now. Was he dreaming about him?

Lost in his own thoughts and memories, he would let out with utter vile; "I will kill him."

Watching this young man shake in rage as he woke up with such fear just a moment ago, you asked without much thought:

"Why?"

He first started in small mumbles.

Even as he was still drowning in his emotions, telling you all that he knows like he's hypnotized, you stay and listen.

Well, not everything. There's no need to talk or even think about Helga, Ylva and Iceland anymore...

The fact that Thorfinn shares anything about him with you is shocking enough - and as disturbing as the details of his past were, everything made sense now.

"I'm sorry, Thorfinn..." You whisper after a good and deadly silent minute - which felt like an eternity for the both of you anyway. You sit next to him as his face is still buried in his hands. He doesn't respond. Instead, both of you are quiet.

As you go back to your sleeping spot you still wish him a goodnight and hope he can rest up until tomorrow. He lays down as well.

"...It sounds like your father was a great man." Thorfinn glances at you as you almost fall asleep yourself, eyes narrowed and jaded. You didnt even know how much truth you spoke.

His eyes flutter close and his voice stayed so unusually quiet, quieter than a baby's breath. It's the first time you've heard him sound so...vulnerable.

"...He was..." The blonde could barely answer. It was both due to the exhaustion, the fear of dreaming again and the feeling of his heart sinking to his stomach when recalling his father.

"...Thanks..."

Everything just left his lips effortlessly. He almost unwittingly spilled out his heart then and there in front of you, to you and Thorfinn knew you wouldn't think of laughing, mocking or even ignoring him at this late and cold hour - and his predictions were correct.

You're strange. You're different.

Even in the morning he did not question himself why he told you anything. It wasn't even much, just about enough as the bandmates knew as they were witnesses. Although, he let you know a bit more of how he felt about it.

It wasn't much. All he did was talk and all you did was sit and listen yet it was calming, he noted.

[edited a few posts of this series. This one feels more like actual headcanons now haha. The next one is already WIP, that's how much VS has a chokehold one me haha help :) ]

#vinland saga #vinland saga x reader #thorfinn #thorfinn karlsefni #thorfinn x reader #vinland saga headcanons #thorfinn headcanons #thorfinn karlsefni x reader #gender neutral imagine #vinland saga imagine #thorfinn imagine #thorfinn x you

[asmobeuses]

𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨.

synopsis: Noir wasn't expecting a pretty thing like you drinking your woes away in a bar. Maybe he could keep you company?

Warnings: AFAB!reader (feminine terms such as lady, gal. inherently feminine compliments such as pretty,), infidelity, comfort to angst, drinking, cigarette smoking, obvious one-night stand (not written), suggestive, reader consents before they both continue to drink, probably OOC Noir, NOT PROOF READ. lmk if I missed anything <3

As late as it was, you found yourself wandering into a bar. Something, anything to get your mind off what you walked in on would do. You sat down and ordered some bourbon. Your eyes scanned the bar, seeing if you could find some eye candy to occupy your ever-racing mind. A certain patron in a long, collared coat fumbling around in his pocket caught your gaze.

“Fuck,” the unlit cigarette bobbed in his mouth with every word he spoke, “where’d it go? I swear to god it was just in my pocket.”

The man was conventionally attractive. He wasn't too scrawny, but not too muscular. His black hair in a neat swoop complimented his chiseled face and tall stature perfectly. 

“Lookin’ for something?” You called out in his direction, hoping he’d take notice of you.

Noir glanced at you, a small grin gracing his features. “Yeah, darlin’. I’ve misplaced my lighter.” He says, muffled. He pulls the cigarette out from his mouth before continuing. “You wouldn’t happen to have one on ya? It's been a long day and a smoke would be nice.”

You pulled out a lighter and a cigarette from the bottom of your purse. You motioned for him to come sit down.

He sat down and leaned in. “Well aren’t you a sweetheart?” The smile on his face told you that he wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon. 

You put the cigarette up to your lips and lit it, but instead of simply using the lighter for his, you leaned in closer, touching the end of your cigarette with his own. Your eyes were locked onto his the whole time, catching him off guard.

His eyes widened, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine. He couldn’t help but feel appreciative of the proximity, even if it only lasted a little while. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke. 

“You sure know how to make a man feel lucky,” the grin on his face was laced with amusement, “what’s your name, darlin’?” He was eager to engage in conversation with you.

You chuckled at his question, deciding to play hard to get. "Ah, but revealing my name soooo soon would spoil all the fun, wouldn't it? You'll have to work a little harder to uncover that secret." Your voice carried a hint of a compelling challenge, inviting him to engage in the game of unraveling your mysteries.

He silently accepted her challenge. “Ah ah, two can play it that game,” he winked, “in that case, you can call me whatever you’d like.” His voice held a hint of suggestion. “Anyway, a pretty lady like yourself shouldn’t be here without some company. ‘S too dangerous. What brings you here? You look like you’re sulkin’.”

“Well handsome,” that was the name you chose for him, considering he was playing the same game you were, “ ‘M here because I don't wanna be at home right now.” Your vague words held a certain weight to them, but Noir looked at the wedding band you were fidgeting with on your finger and was able to put two and two together.

“Infidelity?” He inquired, expression turning soft.

“And with his boss. Now, ain’t that just comical?” You dryly laughed. You spoke with a bitter intonation, causing Noir to frown at your sorrow. He reached out, putting a comforting hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. Nobody deserves to be treated that way,” his voice filled with uncut sympathy. “Y’know what? Sometimes a little distraction is okay, even when it's temporary. Hows about I keep you company for the night, help you forget about everything?”

His hand moved from your arm, but the intense eye contact remained. “I can't fix everything, but I can do enough to put that pretty smile back on your face, hm?”

You groaned, frustrated with everything. “Nothing would amount to his entrails being on the lawn right now.”

Despite how gruesome the remark was, he found himself captivated by your dark humor. He chuckled, “Killing may not be the best way to deal with this … tempting as it may sound.” His head rested on the back of his palm. “Let me be your distraction, take your mind off things,” he repeated, “we’ll have a few drinks, talk a little more, and who knows? Maybe we can even make your cheating husband regret putting someone as pretty as you through the betrayal. Pleasure is a wonderful diversion” His mischievous lilt caused your thoughts to dance around the appealing possibilities of this night’s end.

“Now now, I’m not an easy gal. I don't just lay with the first handsome man to say hi t’me. It’ll take a little more convincing than just empty promises.” you challenged his vows of pleasure.

His eyes sparkled as his voice dropped down, low and seductive. “I wouldn't expect anything less from a beauty as alluring as you. I’m not one to make empty promises. That’s something you can learn very quickly. I assure you, the pleasure I offer is far from empty. 

His finger made rounds around the rim of his glass, sending suggestive shivers down your spine.. “I aim to satisfy, in every sense of the word, but it’s no fun if I don't have to work for it.”

“Your confidence alone is almost enough.” You joked.

“My confidence isn’t all I have going for me,” he winked, “but I don't want you to give in too easily. I want to earn every moment. Let us savor the journey, and make tonight one neither of us will forget.”

You were beginning to grow flustered by his words. “Quite the charmer there, aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question.

His smile only grew more confident. “Why, thank you, dear. I do aim to please,” he replied, “but there's no need to be nervous. Just relax, allow me to show you a night of indulgence.” He flicked the rim of his glass, meeting your eyes with the sound of the clink. “Let me take care of you tonight. Let me make you feel things never before felt. I can assure you won't regret it.”

Your legs pressed together as you were lost in thought. After a few moments, you gently whispered, “I..may just take you up on that offer.”

His eyes flickered with a mixture of anticipation and satisfaction. He leaned in closer, voice laced with raw desire, “perfect..”

Your Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes following.

“Let’s head somewhere more private, yeah?”

You eagerly nodded and followed him out of the bar. He was making his way to the motel down the street. Once you arrived, he quickly paid for a room and led you to it. 

In a couple swift movements, the door was locked and his lips found purchase on your own, moving in sync. Your heart was beating out of your chest, you could only pray he didn’t hear it. He pulled away and began removing his coat, you could only stare at his body through the well-fitted collared shirt.

His eyes met your own and he looked as if he was in a trance. He grabbed you with a lustful urgency, one hand on your waist and the other in your hair. “It's like.. You have me under a spell. I can't resist those enchanting eyes of yours. I want to fulfill every one of your desires tonight.”

You gave him full control, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. Your voices mixed into a symphony of intimacy, swirling into the air around you, forming the most beautiful song. Noir’s eyes followed your body’s every movement, his intense gaze pushing you over the edge time and time again.

Coming down from your highs, you felt nothing but pure bliss. Though, as Noir held you, your mind began to wander to your husband. You knew what lay in store before you indulged in Noir, but you couldn't help but let the tears fall at his tenderness and attention. You began to crave him beyond sex. You thought about how your husband never looked at you the way Noir did, never took your well-being or satisfaction into account. He only craved what would benefit him and him alone.

Noir’s expression softened, his understanding of your feelings deepening. He gently wiped away the tears, his touch infused with empathy and care. “I see you, sweetheart. I see your needs, your desires, and I'm here to fulfill them. To show you the love and attention you deserve.” 

Noir embraced you as if to shield you from all the pain and neglect you had endured. He wanted to be the one to heal the wounds inflicted upon your heart and soul. He wanted to show you the genuine and unwavering kind of love. He understood the complexity of your emotions, the yearning for more than just physical intimacy. 

It was then, when Noir realized his encounter with you held more weight than just a simple, fleeting fling. The tightening of his hold on your trembling body was instantaneous when the comprehension of his heart’s desire came to fruition.

He fell in love, and it all happened in a single night.

“With me, you will always be prioritized, both in and out of the bedroom.” From that moment, Noir vowed to be the sanctuary you sought, the embodiment of love and passion that would wash away past wounds. He wanted to be the partner you deserved, to protect and cherish you, whether it be in moments of intense passion or tender silence.

"Thank you, Noir." As you sobbed into his chest, your words held some sadness to them, as you believed this would be the first and last time you saw him.

Noir held you tightly in his embrace, his heart aching at the sound of your sobs. He knew how bittersweet this interaction would become, and it only reinforced his determination to make this moment with you as meaningful as possible.

"You don't need to thank me, my dear," he whispered softly, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and longing. "I'm here for you, and I always will be. No matter what happens, you'll always have a place in my heart."

In that moment, he wished he could offer you more, wish he could mend the brokenness in your life and give you the love and happiness you deserve. But he understood the complexities of the situation, the circumstance that kept you apart.

Noir cradled you gently, his touch offering solace and comfort amidst the turmoil of emotions. He cherished this moment, knowing that it was fleeting, yet forever etched in his heart.

"You deserve so much happiness," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "Don't settle for anythin’ less. No matter where life takes us, always remember the love we shared in this moment."

With a final tender kiss, Noir held you close, silently promising to cherish the memory of your time together and hoping that one day, fate would grant you both the opportunity to find happiness in each other's arms once more.

You fought your drowsiness, not wanting this moment to end. Unfortunately, you lost, succumbing to the wishful embrace of slumber.

Though, the love you felt rivaled that of any other.

Noir woke up the next morning to find himself alone in the bed, his senses immediately alert to the absence of your presence. As he looked around, he noticed the emptiness of the space beside him, the sheets that were devoid of the warmth he somehow grew accustomed to in one night.

A mixture of longing and a bittersweet ache filled his heart, knowing that this encounter was meant to be just a fleeting moment in time. He couldn't help the tinge of sadness that settled in, his thoughts filled with memories of the passionate night you had shared.

As his gaze fell upon his wrist, Noir's lips curled into a tender smile. There, in a sweet and simple gesture, was evidence of your presence, a lipstick mark left behind—brown and distinct. A loving reminder of the connection you had forged.

He gently touched the mark with his fingertips, cherishing the moment captured within its staining color. It spoke volumes, a testament to the intimacy shared, the vulnerability and passion that had filled the night.

Knowing that nothing lasts forever, Noir held onto the memory of your time together, the way you had touched his heart, and the love that had surged between you. He vowed to carry this experience with him always, a cherished chapter in his life.

With the bittersweet taste of farewell lingering in his heart, Noir showed one last smile toward the lipstick mark on his wrist. It was a farewell, but also a silent promise to treasure the mark you left on his soul, forever grateful for the love and connection you shared, even if it was just for one unforgettable night.

ok so. hi!!! this has been in my drafts unfinished since summer so my hyperfixation on the Spiderverse has kinda died, so i wont be writing for the SV for a good while. it'll prob be back with the release of Beyond the Spiderverse. BUTTTTTTT im fixated on blue lock and Jujutsu Kaisen rn so i may write a little for those.

uhh requests open hmm idk what else i should add here

oh also the title is the link to the song i listened to during the making of this

M.list <— if you enjoy my silly works, I have more here!

#✎ Asmo writes #spiderman atsv #spiderverse #spiderverse fanfic #spider noir #spiderman noir #spiderman noir x reader #spiderverse x reader

[blueseachelle]

I Could Be Lonely With You

Part 5

Ominis Gaunt x Pureblood! Hufflepuff?!? Fem! Reader

I'm not dead! Just had to cram study for a couple exams! Anyway, happy reading! I'm so sorry for you Seb lovers in this chapter.... Here is a link to my Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist!

Weeks passed since the little trip to Hogsmeade the trio took together.

Ominis hasn't talked to the blonde since that day. Little did he know that his best friend Sebastian caused this rift between the two.

Every time Y/n went to look for Ominis, she was stopped by the brunette with some idea of how to help his sister. She would just agree to help because after meeting Anne, she liked her. So, she wanted to be of use in her recovery.

Ominis realized he hasn't seen Sebastian during this time either. He hates to think that you were running around with Sebastian instead of wanting to spend more time with him.

It made his heart hurt. Out of him or Sebastian, all the girls would choose Sebastian. Ominis didn't think that he ever cared about being liked by a girl yet, Y/n was different. She softened his heart. Made him feel more... Human than the monster his family wanted him to be.

_--_--_--_--_--

A couple days later, guess who steps back into Ominis's senses. Sebastian approached Ominis and asked him if he wanted to go to the Scriptorium. Well, more like show him the way to get into the forbidden place. Ominis sighed,

"Sebastian, you know how I feel about that place. I don't want to go to that damned place."

Sebastian started to pace in front of Ominis unseeing eyes,

"I know but, listen. I know there is something there to... to save Anne, Ominis. Plus, Y/n is going to join us so, nothing will happen. Ominis. Please. I beg of you. Show us the way. Please."

Ominis heard Sebastian's plea. As much as he hated that place, maybe he can have Sebastian finally turn away from the path he was going if he realized that nothing will help Anne. Also, Y/n will be there so, that would help is nerves.

Ominis 'looked' to the pacing Sebastian,

"Fine. But. This is the last thing you do. No more Dark Arts. Maybe you will realize curses are set in stone. I'll take you there."

Sebastian tuned everything out except the 'I'll take you there'. He nodded vigorously,

"Yes. Okay. Thank you, Ominis. You won't be disappointed."

With that, Sebastian took off. Ominis just sighed. There was nothing to be done at this point. He just hopes there is nothing to find down in that cursed place.

-_-_-_-_-

The trio stood at the door to the Scriptorium. Ominis was nervous. He didn't know what was expected to be down there. He hoped it was nothing but, he had a feeling his belated aunt might be down there.

Y/n, sensing his nerves, rested a hand on his shoulder. She looked up at him with her violet eyes. She whispered to him,

"It will be okay, Ominis. I promise. We'll be in and out."

Ominis could only respond with a nod.

After a couple of minutes, the door was opened. Y/n, Sebastian and Ominis carefully stepped into the crypt. The door shut behind them.

Y/n led the way with Lumos. Ominis felt his skin crawl. He hates this place. He'd rather be in bed with his head under the covers.

Sebastian ran ahead with haste. After solving a couple puzzles, the trio made it to the next room. When they walked in, the gate shut behind them.

Ominis started to pace,

"I told you two. I knew we were gonna die. We are now trapped here. I knew we shouldn't-"

He was stopped by a familiar hand. Y/n held him by both shoulders while looking at him,

"Ominis. We are going to be fine. I've been in worse. We'll figure this out."

Ominis just let out a breath. As his breath came out, he suddenly figured out the proximity of their faces to each other. He felt his heart race.

Y/n gave him a small hug before walking back over to Sebastian.

After a couple minutes, it was figured out. Sebastian looked at the other two in the room,

"So, We have to have Crucio cast on one of us. Ominis, I recommend you do it because you have before."

Ominis shook his head violently,

"No no no no. I'm not doing that. I promised to never use that curse again. When you cast that curse, you have to MEAN it, Sebastian. You can't use that curse just because. It has to have some sort of... of hate for the person you cast it on. Hate for that person. No."

After Ominis's speech, Y/n was terrified. She looked to Sebastian who was still looking at Ominis. He just sighed and turned to Y/n.

"Well, If Ominis won't do it, then, we have two options. Either I teach you the curse and you cast it on me or, I cast it on you."

Y/n just stared at Sebastian. She thought of the two outcomes. Guilt was her worse enemy so, she'd rather deal with pain. But, if it does work, does that mean Sebastian harbors hate for her? Yes. Yes, it does. Sebastian only cares for Anne at this point. Everyone else is just... just a pawn to him. Y/n took in a breath. She'll just think about this all later. She let out her breath,

"Fine. Cast it on me." Suddenly without hesitation, the curse was cast.

Ominis's ears were filled with the pained screams of his crush. Slowly, they started to die down.

Ominis was the first to her side. He held her in his arms and cradled her. He mumbled how he was sorry over and over.

Sebastian just stood there. He didn't lean down or anything. No concern crossed his face,

"Look the door opened. Let's go."

He walked ahead.

Y/n sobbed into Ominis's chest. The Slytherin boy held her close. He whispered encouraging words to her along with a mixture of apologies.

Slowly, the Hufflepuff came out of her state. She realized she was in the arms of the blind Slytherin boy. She slowly stood up with his help. The two stumbled into the Scriptorium finally. Ominis's arm around her waist and her arm over his shoulders. His other hand held his blinking wand.

Sebastian came up to them,

"Look what I found! The artifact! Along with this book!"

Ominis sighed. Y/n slowly pulled away from Ominis to walk around. She didn't say a word as she looked around.

Ominis looked at Sebastian,

"This is your last little 'dive' into the Dark Arts. I'm done helping you go into insanity and evil."

Sebastian shook his head,

"I'm just looking for a cure. No more. After that, I'm done."

Ominis saw red. His body shook in anger,

"Can you not see what you have become? You cursed Y/n without batting an eye. You had no remorse. Y/n knows how you feel about her now. You hurt her. You didn't even try to help her recover. This is it for you. Anne can't be cured-"

"You act like you don't care for Anne! You-"

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND CURSES! You can't just reverse them. I would know. You know that. It takes a sacrifice. So, this is it. No more dark arts. That artifact doesn't leave this place. If I figure out that you are dabbling in the Arts, I WILL report you."

Sebastian just smirked,

"Okay. Okay. You sound like the only reason you're riled up is that Y/n was hurt."

Ominis glared in his direction,

"When you start hurting people I care about, I won't stand for it. So, put the artifact down AND the book. You are leaving first so I can guarantee you won't leave here with it."

"But-"

Ominis growled,

"Go. Now."

Sebastian sighed. He put the book and artifact down on the ground. Ominis heard the door shut. He knew Sebastian was gone.

Ominis used his senses and his wand to find Y/n. He found her by the desk near the door. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Y/n's shoulders relaxed,

"Y-yes. Still in a little pain but, I'm okay."

Her voice wavered as she said this.

Ominis pulled her into a hug.

"It's okay. I will protect you from now on. Sebastian will not touch you again. I will curse him myself before letting him to that to you again. I should've taken the hit. Not you, Y/n. I'm sorry."

She shook her head and hugged back,

"No. If you have done it, then I would still be a pawn of Sebastian's to use to find a cure. He was using me now, I see it. I'll be okay. I'm sorry I wasn't with you for a while."

Ominis kissed the top of her head and rested his head on her's,

'"It's okay. You're here with me now. You will be safe with me. I promise."

#ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #crucio #part 5 #hogwarts houses #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

[maiverie]

triage — ft. lee heeseung (chapter III)

you try to teach the nerd how to date.

synopsis: heeseung is not, by any measure, date-able. he’s dorky, he’s nerdy, and he does this weird thing where he snorts loudly every time he laughs. in fact, he loves everything that normal people are allergic to — computer science, collecting rare comic books, and birdwatching on the weekend.

given that you two have obviously nothing in common, you find yourself utterly flabbergasted when you receive a letter in your locker, on which heeseung has written, "hi. will you please teach me how to date?"

MASTERLIST HERE !

kayla’s playlist (@/miiiwaa) ♡ my shitty og playlist . tags : #.*triage .

TAGLIST

@jaeyummies @enhyflirt @kyleeanne @icedcoffeesunwoo @ssolari @skazoo @jjunis @heejake-en @koroktsuya @jeongwins @tinykoi-s @en-boyz @soobin-chois @blessed-sky @jhyunieee @kisswon @vbxrin @cosmicsunghoon @bloomedberry @jungwonielove @miiiwaa @jungwoniee @lhsng @missharubear @deonuism @sarahxy537 @bambisgirl @hrrhmay-primaryblog @yeonzzun @msxflower @sunsunu @acciomylove @sweetjaemss @seungstarss @tokyoflies @solelyenha @softforqiankun @goodforgyu @va1ry @taekbokki @luvishee @jalnandanz @person-standing @kissomen @auulraual @sonjuyeonnie @yunhowooyo @tomorrowbymoa-together @markleeisdabestdrug @aizzon @sosoa @seventeeneration @ashrocker123

chapter three

word count: 5.6k | navigation: previous / next / MASTERLIST warnings: swearing, (verbal) bullying

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the first time someone had ever given you butterflies, you must have been nine. at that age, you were deathly afraid of boys, and yet one of them had held your hand tightly underneath the teacher’s desk during a game of hide and seek. 

the physical contact alone had made your stomach twist into a knot, though the proximity between your breaths was what had made your heart thrash inside your chest. 

the second time, you were fourteen and on your very first date. you were at the cinemas, attempting to concentrate on the latest release when he’d leaned into your ear and told you that you looked pretty. he was right — you did look pretty, but that was something you could hardly concentrate on given how nervous you were. 

you could only think about how hot his breath was; that it tickled the sensitive skin of your ear; that when you turned your face toward his, he’d gaze at your lips and every inch of your skin felt ablaze. 

for many years, you collected your firsts, seconds, thirds and fourths, until they eventually fizzled into an ambiguous cloud of experiences; a hazy miscellany that no longer held meaning. now that you’ve gone on countless dates and have had far too many boyfriends and flings to remember, it’s hard to recall the last time anyone has ever given you butterflies.

it’s been so long since your stomach churned and slushed and you felt your heart pound out your ears; it’s been so long since you’ve last felt something. 

‘okay, miss sunset! ^_^’

well, maybe until now. 

“dude, fine. i’m sorry, okay? you can quit giving me the cold shoulder.”

ryujin’s words might only be a low whisper inside the main hall during a school assembly, but they sound more like a kiss in the rain. you smirk triumphantly, eyes trained ahead as your headmaster lectures you and the rest of the student body about some new vandalism discovered in the boy’s toilets. 

“... such behaviour will not be tolerated! we ask that the perpetrators step forward and…”

ryujin audibly groans from your silence. “are you even listening to me?”

“not really,” you reply dryly.

“oh c’mon!” she moans louder, aggrieved by your cold response. she squirms in her chair and pouts at you. “i’m sorry, okay? i won't do it again. i swear, i—”

“girls, shhh!” a passing teacher glares at you both, hovering a finger over his lips. you cast him a curt look, waiting for his exit before turning your head back to ryujin.

you compress your lips into a line, recalling all the jokes about heeseung they had piled on during lunch. 

“they were just jokes; we didn’t mean them.” she insists. “you know us! we joke around all the time.” the ends of her lips dip into a frown. “but that’s beside the point. they were mean and uncalled for and i’m sorry. can we please be friends again?” 

can we please be friends again? after the lunch incident, you’ve been cold and distant. it’s only been around two days since then, though interestingly your silence is what makes her apologise — not guilt or repentance, just the inconvenience of not having your friendship. 

then again, she’s right. they do joke all the time, though it’s not just about heeseung — it’s also about the “weird” girl with a stutter in taehyun’s chemistry class; it’s about the new transfer kid and his ugly shoes; and it’s about soobin’s pathetic teacher and the fact that he has two jobs to make ends meet. their jokes are not new and certainly not exclusive to heeseung — they’ll tear anybody down if provided the opportunity.

and perhaps this is why you’re mad — not just because your friends are mean people, but if the old adage “birds of a feather flock together” rings true — then what does this say about you? 

is their behaviour a reflection of who you are?

and if so, how are you any better than ryujin or taehyun?

“look, i’m not in the mood for this.” you hiss, peeling ryujin’s grip off you. “besides, don’t say sorry to me; say sorry to lee heeseung.” 

“since when did you care so much about that kid?” ryujin scoffs, offended by your response. “you didn’t even know who he was a few days ago and now you’re suddenly acting like his fucking mother.” 

you bite the inside of your cheeks, feeling a prick of annoyance. truthfully, it takes a lot of willpower not to beat her ass into the ground, as admittedly that’s your usual way of fixing things. you’re normally the type to communicate with your hands, or at least with venomous words. 

instead, you unclench your fists and scoff at her. “you don’t sound very apologetic.”

“because there’s literally nothing to apologise for.” she finally seethes. “shit, dude, who do you think you are? mother fucking teresa? let it go already.”

unbelievable, you think. after all her apologies two seconds ago. “you know what? fuck you.” you narrow your eyes at her, feeling anger vibrate off every edge of your body.

“excuse me?” she sneers. ryujin is livid. she scoffs, eyes widening in mixture of shock and anger.

“yeah, fuck you.” you roll your eyes, no longer able to disguise your utter disdain. “you’re pissing me off. stop begging me to look at you when you’re not even sorry or you don’t see the issue.”

“are you fucking kidding me?” ryujin snaps. “you literally ignored me for two days and now you’ve got a stick up your ass?” she gapes at you with sheer disbelief before finally snapping. “nah, honestly fuck you too. we’re done.”

.

.

.

you’ve honestly seen better days than this one.

following your fight with ryujin, classes with her as your permanent seatmate have been torturous. in fact, the heightened tensions were so great that even your teachers had begun to notice.

there were many other benefactors contributing to your horrible day — you’d discovered a rotten banana you’d accidentally left inside your locker; taehyun asked to borrow fifty dollars and got pissed when you said no; and this.

this — the cherry on top.

sim jaeyun, that conceited piece of shit! 

you angrily stomp your way down the cement paveway, furious from the phone call you had just exchanged with your older brother. 

“no. you need to learn from your own consequences.” 

“yes. i learned. i learned that my brother is an inconsiderate asshole that blows shit way out of proportion!”

“whatever, dude. i’m not picking you up. just walk home! it’s not even that far. or get your so-called bestie ryujin to drive you!” 

“but—”

“laters!”

for fuck’s sake. 

maybe he’s not wrong — a thirty-minute walk home is certainly doable, though you’re mostly enraged by his attitude. given that he’s been expressing his disapproval for your friends for as long as you can remember (though you’d rather die than admit that he was right about them), he’s obviously still angry at you for going out drinking with ryujin that time a few nights ago. who was he to think he could micromanage your life and punish you when it didn’t go his way?

now that you and ryujin aren’t on the best terms currently, you’ve been left to walk home.

grumpily, you fasten your handbag around your arm and heave a hefty sigh before trodding along your way. at this time of year, you’re far into your favourite season, spring. as you walk, you eye the flourishing spring blossoms and the leaves they pepper across the cement.

and from this activity, you’re able to drown out the time. ten minutes pass while you silently make your way home, though the sound of a bell ringing garners your attention.

you freeze in your tracks, realising somebody is behind you.

that’s when you throw your head over your shoulder.

what—

you screech to a halt. lee heeseung? on a bike?

you blink rapidly, waiting as he speedily approaches you on his bicycle. he greets you with a toothy grin and crescent eyes, something so contagious you feel your soiled mood brighten just a little bit.

“hi!” he beams, slowing to an eventual halt. you blink at him, shuffling back so that he has enough space to climb off his bike.

“heeseung? hey,” you reply coolly. “what… what are you doing here?” you merely blink, swivelling your head around in an attempt to see if he brought company. as he appears to have come alone, you continue the conversation without restraints. “also, nice bike.”

heeseung smiles again when your eyes meet, causing heat to creep up your cheeks while memories flood back into your mind. miss sunset, video games, and bowties are all you can think about. well, that and the fact that his helmet looks far too big on his small face. and also, he’s literally the only person you know that actually wears knee and elbow pads when he rides a bike.

“oh, well this is my usual route home!” heeseung brushes the hair away from his face, wiping sweat with the back of his hand. “and thank you, it’s my mom’s.” 

“i can see that.” you stifle a laugh, noticing the hand-painted yellow daisies along the skeleton of the pink bike. on top of that, there are pink streamers pouring out from the handles. “it’s pretty,” you comment honestly. in times like these, you admire heeseung — ironically enough, he’s not one to care about how others perceive him. it’s courageous, you think.

“do you need a ride home?” heeseung offers kindly, lips curling into a cute smile. “on my mom’s pretty bike?” he rings the bell on the handle once more, eliciting a slight chortle from you. dork. he’s a whole dork. “i’d offer a car, but mom needed it today.”

“hm,” you smirk playfully. “don’t worry, i think bicycles are much sexier.”

“r-really?” his eyes brighten, before the light in them quickly dims. “oh.” his lips sink with disappointment. “are you being sarcastic?”

you start to chuckle, amused by his reaction. once again, you are marvelled by his unique, natural charisma. he’s a lot easier going than one would think; he’s always been open and welcoming with you, and if anyone put in the effort, you’re sure they’d think the same way. 

you smile at him. “a ride would be lovely, thank you.”

he immediately brightens from your response. “c-cool,” he quickly nods, playing off his excitement so nicely you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t seen his lips tremble. “a-actually, i… i wanted to offer one before but then i realised i only had one helmet and it was… well, it was on my head. so i went back to the store to buy one. i hope this colour is okay.”

you blink.

huh?

he quickly scrambles for his backpack, which you now notice is visibly pregnant. when he unzips it, he extracts a matte, baby pink helmet from inside.

“y-you bought that?” you openly gawk at him. “what? why?” you ask, horrified by the inconvenience.

“motor vehicle accidents aren’t a joke.” his lips descend into a serious frown. he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, signalling the commencement of his professor-serious-nerd mode. “they’re among one of the leading causes of mortality and morbidity across the world.”

“wow,” you snort. “you act like you’re going to start drifting on your bicycle or some shit.”

his brows furrow, unimpressed by your sarcasm. “we could get hit by a car! you could get a brain injury, or a spinal cord injury, or a compound fracture!”

“oh no,” you remark sarcastically again. “that’s, like, so much worse than a normal fracture!”

his pout digs into his features. “i’m serious!” he whines while holding out the helmet for you to take.

you chortle, already feeling your mood lift. it’s truly amazing how easily good company can assuage one’s bad mood. “heeseung, i think i’ll be fine. you should return it; save your money.” you gently push the helmet back to him.

he huffs in annoyance, though you retaliate with a calm smile.

you open your mouth to eject another satirical remark, except he steps toward you and gently places the helmet over your head. you freeze from the sudden action, feeling his warm hands rub against your chin as he fastens the clip beneath it.

“just in case.” he whispers, ensuring it fits snugly on your head. after your heart stops, you feel it restart and begin to pound recklessly. “there are some elbow and knee pads in my backpack too.”

second. that was the second time heeseung has ever made your heart flutter, and the worst part might just be the fact that he has no clue.

you gulp, feeling the heat begin to branch up to the tip of your ears. you’re too utterly speechless to say anything, so you merely blink and nod quickly. you watch with a held breath as heeseung straps your joint pads on you. this is hardly a task that requires the two of you, but you nevertheless allow him to do this.

when he’s finished, heeseung swings his leg over his bike and pats his hand on the rear rack, which you assume is your seat. 

“oh, uh, th-thanks,” you mumble, forcing yourself to snap out of your daze. you plant yourself onto your seat, feet resting on the chain stays on each side of the wheels. slowly, you snake your hands around heeseung’s waist, pulling the two of you close. 

he instantly stiffens from your action, but you nevertheless allow yourself this simple joy — because while most boys liked to impress you with their big, impressive motorcycles and cool tattoos, heeseung offers you a simple ride home in his mom’s pretty bike; and somehow, the latter is more than what you need right now.

click!

“d-do we really have to do this?”

you purse your lips, ignoring heeseung’s question. instead, you lower your phone screen and examine the photos you’ve just captured, channelling special attention to the quality of the lighting and backdrop. 

what you’re searching for is cohesion — the cohesion of colours, to be specific. after all, the key to taking any good picture is an aesthetically pleasing blend and placement of colours and objects. 

“you look a little uncomfortable, heeseung.” you mumble, swiping through your collection, only to take notice of the awkward expression on his face. it’s plastered onto every single picture you’ve taken, though honestly, awkward is a severe understatement. 

in truth, he looks… fucking petrified. 

god, he’s staring into the camera with such terror encased in his eyes that he seriously looks like you’re about to eat him. or like you’re holding him at gunpoint. or like you’ve kidnapped him and are threatening to cut off all his toes to sell them for cash.

maybe he hasn’t warmed up to the camera just yet, you try to tell yourself. it’s been almost two hours since you randomly rocked up at his doorstep this saturday morning and dragged him out to visit the most picturesque cafe you know — belle epoque; a well-adorned, popular french-inspired indoor garden cafe.

at this hour, the cafe is bustling and absurdly busy, however you’re determined to untangle your next dating lesson. 

HOW TO DATE — LESSON 2: create an attractive, confident image for yourself and never break character. like, ever.

“i… i’m not very good at taking photos.” he shyly admits, squirming as he nervously adjusts the black denim jacket he looks quite dashing in. there’s a reason why you had picked it out for him — it’s ridiculously flattering on his build; it accentuates the width of his shoulders and length of his chest. and, paired with dark ripped jeans, exudes a handsome, striking bad boy image he’s obviously not used to projecting. 

nevertheless, you’ve come here with a mission, and with the new instagram account that you’re setting up for heeseung, he’s going to have to get used to it. 

“i’m the one taking the photo, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty.”

“but…��� he scratches his scalp with a finger. “i don’t know how to do that.”

“confidence, heeseung. it’s about confidence.” you iterate, swirling your straw around your iced latte as you return his stare. “you need to sit there and be confident. make this cafe your bitch.”

“my… my bitch?” he gapes at you, puzzled by your words.

“yes, your bitch.” you grin, excited by the image reform you’ve prepared for him. surprisingly, he’s pulling off this new look quite well. he looks great — really handsome, actually. the all-black fit makes him look tall and intimidating, and given that he usually has his hair styled downwards and concealing his forehead, you like how it looks partially styled back. earlier, you had even taken the liberty to use gel to style a few of the front pieces.

heeseung nods slowly at your words, seemingly taking his time to absorb the meaning of them. “o-okay.” he mumbles, nodding more rapidly to himself. “confidence. right. it’s about confidence.”

“yes.” you smirk, sipping from your cup. heeseung mirrors your action, lifting his iced tea to his lips. “so basically you can either sit there looking like you have a twenty-inch dick or you can stay looking submissive and breedable. which one is it that you want?”

heeseung instantly spurts out his iced tea and splutters everywhere, completely taken aback by your vulgarity. you stare at the mess he makes across the table and grimace, while he begins to profusely apologise for his mishap.

“s-sorry!” he squeaks in embarrassment, face turning ablaze as he rushes to wipe up his tea. “i-i was just surprised—”

you can’t help it.

you burst out into wicked laughter now, doubling over in your seat as you clutch your stomach. heeseung frowns at you at first, though soon he begins to slowly laugh with you, until you’re both two giggling maniacs inside one of the busiest cafes in town.

within a week, your friendship with heeseung blossoms.

soon, your interactions extend far beyond intermittent interactions. eventually, you’re texting him at night. then mornings. afternoons. weekends. you distance yourself from the rest of your social circle and spend your lunch recess with him at the community garden. there, you let him ramble on about his favourite bird species and all the behavioural observations he’s collected about the cute ones you recognise. you stifle giggles during class while he floods your inbox with ridiculously dumb chemistry memes. he’ll turn his head over his shoulder and you’ll sneak small smiles at each other, just for the teacher to scold him to turn back around. you complain about your least favourite classes and he’ll draw little comic strips in your notebooks so that they can keep your entertained. you steal his glasses as a joke and lovingly tease him for how strong his prescription is. you divulge all your favourite hairstylists (the ones you swore to gatekeep) and craft him pinterest boards for fashion inspiration. you drag him around the shopping mall despite his whiny protests. he takes you to gaming cafes and libraries and introduces you to all his beloved librarian aunties.

there’s a point where he becomes the only friend you have, and you forget the late nights partying and smoking. soon, you break records you never thought could be wavered — in fact, you shatter your past favourites and replace them with new ones — smiles you thought could not be wider; laughs you thought could not be louder; photos you thought could not look more lovable.

and he’s also the first friend you’ve spoken about to your parents.

“he’s so cool. you can literally ask him anything and he’ll be able to tell you all about it. he’s literally like a walking wikipedia, it’s insane.”

“mm. really?”

“yep!” you shove a piece of watermelon into your mouth and grin while seated at the kitchen counter. “he’s so smart. one time i literally asked him if he knew anything about sustainable agriculture and he went into an hour-long rant. honestly i didn’t know what the fuck he was saying but it was pretty cool he had anything to say in the first place.”

your mother wrinkles her nose when she laughs. “yes, dear. you told me that already.” 

“did i tell you that he’s the top student in our school?”

she stifles another laugh. “yes, that too.”

“oh! right. yes. first date tips!” you lower the ice cream cone in your hand and turn toward heeseung. he blinks at you from across the park bench while timidly licking his strawberry cone.

“dress well. smell good. make sure it’s not longer than four hours because fuck that shit. text her afterwards, and if you drop her off, make sure you wait until she goes inside the house before you drive off. oh, and make sure to compliment her. but be sincere; it’s kinda obvious when you compliment somebody and don’t really mean it.”

heeseung bobs his head slowly, quietly absorbing your words. you continue to unload your years’ worth of dating wisdom onto the boy, scouring through archives and archives of learned lessons. 

“unpopular opinion, but i don’t really think cinema dates are all that,” you continue while consuming your delicious treat. “it’s two hours and for what? the two of you to sit there in silence? big whoop.”

“hm…” heeseung taps his lips thoughtfully. “so you prefer talkative dates? like, um… sitting and chatting?” he smiles expectantly at you, a hopeful glint in his eyes, though you quickly distinguish that light the instant he sees your smile fall.

you cringe. “oh god no.”

his smile falters. “n-no?” his eyes round with surprise.

“hell nah,” you shudder. “do you know how insufferable that is? especially when all the guy talks about is gymming. like, bitch, why are you regurgitating the nutritional information of protein powder? do i look like john cena to you?” 

heeseung giggles from your joke, causing you to smile softly. 

perhaps you are utterly crazy for thinking this, but you think the sound of heeseung’s laugh is melodic. and cute. and contagious. and adorably innocent, and lately, it’s been incredibly refreshing being able to see and hear such wholesome things coexist in a world you’ve always regarded cynically. 

truthfully, being around heeseung is almost like a healthy addiction — you’ve been primed for badness all your life that even goodness has begun to feel enticing. though admittedly, you feel a prick of impending doom. are you preparing him for a world that’ll eat him alive? that’ll dim his chandelier eyes and rob his toothy smile and stifle his childish laugh?

you know all about what people want these days. people don’t want romance. they want short-lived highs and pretty trophies to align neatly along a shelf, just to discard when they’ve fulfilled their purpose. 

heeseung is special. you’re never normally wrong about these things. he is kind, and gentle, and in a single word — good. he is everything you’re not used to and everything the world loves to corrupt. after all, he has the power to convince a stony-hearted pessimist that even she is deserving of this friendship. 

“c-can i ask you a question?”

your eyes instantly flutter toward him. you quickly nod your head, watching him with anticipation, though you feel the melted liquid from your icecream begin to reach your fingers. “sure. what’s up?”

heeseung clamps his lips together nervously. you watch as his brows knit together and he scratches the back of one of his ears. as you’ve noticed, that was one of his awkward quirks — he tends to scratch his hair, or his ear, or his nose whenever he felt emotionally unequipped to say whatever it is he wished to. 

“um… well, d-do you want to be, like…”

be…?

“be, um… be my…”

be his…?

“my…”

his…

“date?”

you freeze, feeling the world slow into an eventual halt. his date? your eyes instantly widen, though you’re not quite quick enough with your response. 

“i-i mean, not a real date-date, i meant, like, date to my aunt’s wedding!” he quickly adds, waving his hands around as though he’s attempting to dismiss a misunderstanding. simultaneously, he may be attempting to disperse the tension circulating in the air. “i-it’s just that my cousin got sick over the weekend, and so there’s an empty seat th-that’s already been paid for, and… well… my mom suggested that i, um… that i ask… you.”

oh.

“y-you totally don’t have to!” heeseung squeaks, brushing his hair down to cover his forehead while redness begins to diffuse across his cheeks. he visibly fidgets the more time goes on. “no pressure. it’ll probably be really boring anyway, it’s just that you’re the coolest person i know, and um, okay, i’m so sorry maybe no—”

“i’d love to.” 

there’s silence before he snaps his head up at you. “r-really?”

“yeah,” you slowly smile, nodding with increasing momentum. “sounds super fun. i’ve actually never been to a wedding before.”

heeseung instantly erupts into a wide smile. he beams like sunshine at midday — you smile back, feeling your heart swell with glee as he excitedly grips both your shoulders and lightly shakes you. “r-really?” he exclaims excitedly. “this is going to be so fun! i’ll… i’ll make sure you have lots of fun for your first wedding then!”

you giggle. “yeah, you better take care of me then.”

he nods ecstatically. “i’ve got the perfect bowtie for the occasion!”

.

.

.

though you expect nothing less, the wedding turns out to be a blast. actually, it exceeds your expectations entirely, though you suspect it’s because heeseung truly has made it a priority that you enjoy yourself. 

throughout the hours, there is not a single reason for you to not have fun, especially not with heeseung as your date. he drags you around and introduces you to his extended family, simultaneously spilling all the family secrets and the embarrassing nicknames people have collected over the years. you both go around sneaking food into people’s drinks, giggling childishly about the thought of somebody finding a macaroni at the bottom of a glass of cabernet. 

you sing, you take photos, and you chat for hours though it feels like a quarter of one. neither of you know how to properly ballroom dance, so you end up stepping on each other’s feet and stumbling over one another the entire time, though it’s more funny than anything else.

eventually, as you near the end of the night and heeseung offers you a ride home — a proper car ride home, as he liked to emphasise — you excuse yourself to the bathroom for one final touch-up before concluding one of the most fun nights you’ve had in a while. 

you stand in front of the mirror, staring in awe at your reflection, unable to rid yourself of the most contagious smile you’ve ever worn. it looks like an accessory, given how brightly it dazzles. 

how does he do it?

how does he spread so much goodness?

you smile at yourself through the mirror, rewinding the events of the night. your mind seems to enjoy replaying all the encoded images of heeseung’s expressions in your mind — him grinning, him frustrated by dancing, him embarrassed and mortified when his mother told you about the time he cried for 48 hours when he accidentally stepped on one of his ants from his ant farm.

“i love your dress.” 

you blink, eyes flickering across the mirror, just to notice the girl standing two sinks beside you. you squint, unable to recall when another person had entered the bathroom. as you stare longer, you then realise that it’s his cousin kim minjeong, who is also a student at your school. truthfully, you hadn’t expected they were related at all, though heeseung had sheepishly admitted that she had begged him not to tell anyone anything in fear of her social reputation.

you curtly smile at her in response, though she stares right back at you through the mirror.

“the green really suits your skin tone. was it a coincidence to match with heeseung’s bowtie?”

you smile affectionately, thinking about how adorably surprised he looked when you rocked up in a dress you had specifically matched with his chosen bowtie.

“yeah.” you laugh briefly, amused by the memory. “i thought it’d look cool.”

“it’s hot.” minjeong giggles, reaching into the depths of her purse to extract lipstick from it. while she reapplies the colour onto her lips, she continues to blabber. “by the way, isn’t my cousin such a loser?” she laughs, adjusting how her bangs sit on her forehead. “my friends recently found out that we’re related. fuck, so embarrassing. literally wanted to dig my own grave.”

“why?” you furrow your brows, though you desperately attempt to conceal your disdain.

she snorts. “what do you mean why? he’s a dweeb, duh. but like, i guess at least you’re giving him a little more social cred now that you’re hanging out with him.”

you feel an unpleasant taste in your mouth as you begin to outwardly frown.

“it’s so embarrassing being related to him. you know what my friends said when they found out? they told me his virginity was genetic and that i was going to die alone because they thought it must run in the family. fuck, honestly, i couldn’t even get mad. even taehyun sai—” she freezes when she realises the name she’s just uttered.

you stare at her emotionlessly, understanding the reason for her silence — it was eventually inevitable that the rumours had circulated back to you — minjeong was taehyun’s new girlfriend. sure, you and taehyun had never been dating in the first place, but you were his longest fling to date, and this was a well-known fact in school. 

“um… yeah. nevermind.” she stifles a giggle.

this was the reason why you had been so taken aback that minjeong and heeseung share blood; the girl is intolerable. she could not make it any clearer that she wanted you to know about her and taehyun, though what she probably doesn’t anticipate is that you couldn’t care less about their new relationship. 

“it’s cool.” you shrug nonchalantly. “i really don’t care.”

“wow, you’re so chill.” minjeong smiles, though it edges a smirk. “got any tips?”

“tips?”

“yeah, tips for dating him. tips for making him happy.” 

you already want to throw your head back and project a loud cackle into the sky. is she purposely trying to annoy you? if she weren’t heeseung’s family, you’d have already demolished her, though you practise self-control given that you’re at a family junction. “i don’t know, be hot? that generally makes him pretty happy.” 

her jaw goes slack at your implication while you narrow your eyes. you’ve never been one people dared to pick fights with, so you’re sure to emphasise precisely why. “and another piece of advice, don’t go around bragging about taehyun. he’s a parasite and not a flex, so you’re better off just waving around a sign that says i’m a fucking moron.”

it’s courtesy that you don’t mention the fact that taehyun has been blowing up your phone — in your absence, he’s sent countless text messages and attempted many phone calls. in fact, you were doing minjeong a favour by reminding her that gold-covered shit is still, surprise surprise, shit.

.

.

.

the ride home, you decide to stay silent about what had happened with minjeong, though you’re sure heeseung had noticed her storm out of the bathroom. 

instead, you let comfortable silence engulf the two of you while you lean your head against the window and watch your surroundings blur and blend like a speedy movie edit. heeseung drives well and the drive is long, so you even have the opportunity to shut your eyes and capture fragments of sleep. 

when he gently wakes you up and announces the arrival outside your home, you turn your head and slowly seat yourself upward. 

“jeez. sorry i slept,” you grumble, shaking your head as you brush the hair away from your face.

the boy profusely shakes his head. “no worries!” he smiles. “i’m an exceptional driver.”

“evidently. i slept like a baby.”

“yep, you literally had your thumb in your mouth and everything, too.” he jests. you giggle before reaching over your knees to collect your coat and your handbag. 

“in all seriousness, thank you so much for inviting me. i had a really, really great time.” you showcase your best smile, one which you liked to reserve for moments like these.

“s-sure.” he stutters, brushing his hair with his fingers. “thank you for agreeing to come. did i.. um… tell you how pretty you looked?”

“repeatedly.” you bite back a smile when his face falls into a horrified expression.

“oh.” he mumbles, blinking. “o-okay.”

you want to reach over and grab his face. he’s so cute. he’s too cute; he’s so precious and you want to shield him from the world. however, again practising your self-control, you opt for unbuckling your seatbelt and waving at him. “i’ll see you at school.”

“w-wait—”

you halt, a hand hovering over the door handle. “hm?”

“can… can i do something a bit stupid?”

you nod.

“can i…”

hug you?

kiss you?

“consider this my first real date?”

you hold your breath, frozen to your core — you fear that if you move, for even just a fraction of an inch — you will shatter this daydream and be dragged back to reality; one that most accurately mirrors cinderella’s tale.

you’re afraid you’ve struck midnight.

“o-of course.” you whisper, your voice as fragile as glass.

his face is immediately swept up with a bright smile. “dress well, smell good, compliment her, and—” he quickly checks his wristwatch. “a little over four hours, but that’s okay, right?”

“wh-what?” you blink.

“your rules for a good first date. how did i do? did you like it?”

you stare speechlessly, eyes bouncing between each of his, unable to comprehend his words. truthfully, your words are caught in your throat.

“i think your silence is a yes,” he mumbles. “but i also don’t care too much what you think, because i had fun and my date was pretty.”

there that word is again — pretty. his pretty date.

you feel your stomach twist and your heart begin to race, because while you must have convinced yourself that you were far beyond the stage of craving romance — you’re not.

you want it. you want romance. you want this romance, you want the one with the smiles and the giggles and the clumsy ballroom dancing and ice creams at a park and foam moustaches from nice cafes around town. you desperately want this kind of romance, but you want it with heeseung.

because you’ve realised that while you’re a sunset, heeseung is a sunrise. 

the kind of sunrise that rises during dawn; one that touches everything around it with a golden glow and brightens any room to the standards of heaven.

he makes everything around him glow. 

even you.

he makes even you feel like you can glow.

//

to be continued.

*taglist is open, just comment or send an ask :>

a/n: OMG HELLOOO BFFS im saurry for yet again another late update 💔 pls don't cancel me,,, im 2 slow at this game 😔 but BUT thank you SO much for reading hehe i will definitely try to update much earlier for the next chapter 🥰 SO??? HOW DID LITTLE HEE DO??? GIVE HIM SOME CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK 😫 also please nobody talk ab the fact that the writing here is absolutely DOG SHITE im screaming crying this was just not it but im.... too smooth brain to edit rn 🙁 but nevertheless seriously thank u sm for all the support for triage so far :((( i cant wait for the next few chaps grrrrr anyway MUAHHH LOVE U GUYSSS sm <33 pls do support me via liking + reblogging if u can !! :> ill try be quicker w the next update !!!

#ficscafe #enhypennetwork #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung fic #heeseung imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fluff #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #lee heeseung imagine #heeseung drabbles #enhypen heeseung x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #lee heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung au #heeseung fanfiction #heeseung au #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung edit #enhypen headcanons #heeseung headcanons #.*triage

[ochakourarakah]

araw-araw

chapter one: mutualistic. 

author’s notes: this is a story i’ve had in the works for a long time now, and i really wanted to publish it as a long one shot but here we are. 

masterlist.

The news hits you the same way most of his words do. 

It’s a gentle rumble, almost as if trying to rouse you from sleep even though you were wide awake. 

“I’ve decided to play for the Schweiden Adlers,” Toshi says over lunch, and the straight tone of his delivery would’ve made you think he was talking about weather or homework due that day.

Now, you wish you were asleep.

The chopsticks fumble in your grip just enough to make you drop the udon noodles you were about to eat back into your bowl. Toshi raises an eyebrow at this, but you don’t let him ask when you say, “Really?” 

He nods. “They’re the strongest team in Division 1 of the V-League.” he takes a sip from his drink. “I’m due to meet them for contract signing next week after final exams.” 

“I see,” You set your chopsticks over your bowl, appetite momentarily lost. “Where will it be held?” 

“They’re based in Tokyo.” 

And this is the part where you’re supposed to be upset as it all clicks into place. 

That he’s being recruited somewhere far away, that playing professionally would take up most of his time and that whatever the two of you had most likely wouldn’t work in the long-term. 

But instead, you smile at him.

This should also be the part where you tearfully ask him how long he had been hiding these prospects, or what this meant for the two of you or if this was his way of breaking up. 

But instead you say, “Congratulations, Toshi.”

“Thank you,” he says back. 

And neither of you say much else for the rest of your meal. 

You’re not quite sure if the bond between you and your roommate was a product of the close proximity or because your personalities actually worked well together, but you tell Natsumi about your troubles regardles.

“He’s playing right after graduation?” She repeats, a critical furrow in her brow. You might as well have cursed your roommate’s name to filth with the way she was looking at you. 

You’re both seated on your mattress on the bottom bunk, a plushie on each of your laps and hugged close to your chests. A half-empty bag of chips lays between the two of you along with a tray carrying mugs of what used to hold hot chocolate. 

(Not the best combo, you know, but it was welcomed all the same.)

You nod, burying your chin into the softness of your stuffed cow (which, ironically, was a gift from Toshi; Tendou suggested the gift because the pun was too irresistible.)

“He already mentioned being scouted by V-League teams before, so it’s not a complete surprise to me.” 

Natsumi wrinkles her nose and picks a chip off the bag. “Just not the part where he’d be playing in Tokyo.” 

You nod again, tilting your head to muffle your groan into the plushie’s stuffing. 

You knew he wouldn’t stay in Miyagi with the reputation he’s already built for himself in the volleyball community, so much so that you were pretty sure he might even make a name for himself abroad once he hit it off here. 

Yet now, Tokyo already seemed so far away despite it only being a three-hour trip by train.

It reminds you of your monthly visits back home and how you were often too tired to mingle, much less spend actual quality time with your family.

The idea of Toshi going through the same thing (maybe even worse) makes a pit sink deep inside your stomach. 

Natsumi lets you groan a little more before asking, “What are you gonna do now?”

There’s not really much you can do, if you had to be honest. At least, not anything that could change Toshi’s mind in any way. You lift your head up, hugging the plushie tighter. 

“Study, that’s what.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Whether Toshi decides on Tokyo permanently or not, we would still have final exams coming up.” 

“True, but-” 

“Come on,” you put the toy down and move to get your feet off the bed and on the ground. “We still have to review Logarithmic Functions,” 

With the topic pushed aside, you shift your attention to the material you have to study with Natsumi, along with briefly recalling helping Tendou and Semi with chemistry the day after tomorrow as well. The details were all in your planner, so you grab it from your desk and flip it to that week’s page.

Your roommate rolls her eyes but follows suit after you.  “Ugh, fine.” 

You’re not sure if she meant that about the studying or about you changing the topic, but you’re glad for her complacency all the same. 

(You also weren’t quite sure how long it would last, but that was a question for another time.)

You pride yourself in how patient you were as a person. 

You studied hard to get into the best high school in your prefecture and for the past three years have been busting your ass to make sure that all that hard work didn’t go to waste, then doing it all over again for the college entrance exams that took place just two months ago. You can handle children and their messes and tantrums, and you know how to deal with Natsumi’s penchant of ranting about anything that irked her (which was a lot of things), Tendou’s impromptu singing (which happened quite often) and even Goshiki’s hyperactivity (which you found excessive even for a freshman eager to prove himself to his senpais). 

And you can handle how Ushijima Wakatoshi, no matter how much he says you matter to him, will always put volleyball first. 

It was a no-brainer since you put your studies ahead of him, too- if he was the Volleyball Idiot then you were the Biology Nerd, hellbent on becoming a doctor as he is in playing the game professionally. 

And if you already weren’t a patient person to begin with, your patience was supposed to stretch. Sometimes by inches. Other times by miles. 

But it always, always adjusted to Toshi, and sometimes you have to think back to figure out how many it had to do so.

How many canceled dates due to exhaustion? How many days of not seeing him at all because he was training over the weekends? How many missed calls and unread messages before you can say enough was enough? 

You had to fight a chuckle.

The answer increased every time you asked the question and it only did so because really? 

Who the hell were you to complain when you weren’t completely innocent either?

The last person you dated scowled at how much you studied and how little time you had for them. They rolled their eyes at the idea of library dates and showed annoyance at how you’d only go to cafes to study and not enjoy the food or drinks or the company they offered.

It only took two months before they broke up with you.

They said it was just a mismatch, but you knew better. 

They just didn’t understand how much was riding on your education. How your family was counting on you to graduate. How badly you wanted to help other people by pursuing medicine.   

So now you were the one who did the understanding. 

You gave Toshi his space when he had a game coming up, and kept track of his schedule on your planner so you knew when not to bother him. You came to his games and joined him on the bleachers if he was observing other matches, not really fully understanding but paying attention all the same. Sometimes you even studied on the volleyball gym bleachers, which Coach Washijo only allowed since studying was a quiet task for you and Toshi never lost focus whenever you were around. 

And in turn, he accompanied you to the library and to the various cafes and restaurants you frequented to study the weeks leading up to the Center Test. He borrowed books for you from the public library if you holed up in your dorm and made sure you took adequate breaks between grind sessions despite not knowing a thing about the subject material you were pouring over. 

And everyday without fail, he would walk you to and from your classroom and dorm, then remind you to sleep at a reasonable hour by wishing you goodnight before turning in himself.

In Biology last semester, you talked about symbiosis - a relationship between two species where at least one benefits from the bond. 

While you were no parasite sucking the life out of your last partner, you knew that they didn’t really benefit from your relationship, either. 

Neither of you did, really.

(That’s commensalism, you recalled, where one party benefits while the other is generally unaffected. Or indifferent.)

So maybe now you were also driven to make sure what you had with Toshi was mutualistic. That you both got something out of whatever this was between you and that neither of you ended up wasting your time on the other. 

Toshi had enough on his plate already, and you had no right to add to the many stressors he had in his life.

You watch him from across the lunch table, from the chopsticks that he held in his left hand to the slopes of his broad shoulders. 

They must be carrying a lot. 

Being captain of his team. The need to sharpen his own skills even after their season had passed. Maintaining a good academic performance. His family’s expectations of him.

It’s here that you realize that Toshi had called your name. 

Twice or thrice now, actually.  

You blink a few times before shaking your head. “Sorry, I must’ve spaced out.”

He looks at you for a moment. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just a little sleepy, I guess.”

Not a complete lie, but Toshi bought it all the same. “Did you sleep late again?”

A guilty smile creeps up to your lips. “Yeah, I wanted to get ahead on the last chapters of calculus.” Which was true, by the way, and boy, did the Limit Theorems take a lot out of you. 

Toshi frowns, the touch of a downward slope of the corners of his mouth. “You really should be sleeping earlier.”

“Can you blame me?”

His mouth flattens as he nods in agreement. “I suppose I can’t.”

Later that day, in the ten minute break between your first and second afternoon classes, you see Ushijima at the door of your classroom. 

“Toshi?” You get up from your seat and walk over to him. “Did you need something?” 

Maybe he had to speak to Semi? He was your classmate, after all. 

Before you could ask, he hands you a drink. “For you. In case you still feel drowsy.”

You blink a few times before taking it. 

If you remember correctly, the only times Ushijima ever stopped by the vending machines was for water or a sports drink or some green tea if he felt like it. 

Never anything else. 

But then again he’s probably been around you long enough to know your usuals as well. 

So you smile, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to the two of you. “Thank you, Toshi.” 

Much to your relief, your classmates kept to themselves, except maybe Semi who lazily watched your exchange. 

(You guess that maybe Toshi only ever truly got undivided attention when he was on the court.)

Then, quick as you can, you kiss him on the cheek. 

If Toshi blushed at that, you don’t see it. You do, however, hear the catch in his breath when your lips pressed into his cheek, and smiled wider as you pulled away. 

“You’re welcome.” You decide not to comment on his reddening ears as he clears his throat. “I’ll be off now. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye!” you chirp back. 

When you turn around, you're met with Semi’s shocked face. 

You do nothing but flash him a peace sign, open your drink and take a sip.

(And as cliche as it sounded, the drink you’ve had countless times before tasted just the slightest bit better.)

One of the perks that came with dating Ushijima was that the rest of the Volleyball Club diffused you into their friend group, no questions asked. 

The team sometimes invited you to sit at their table if they happened to eat together and you often shared amused looks with Ohira when everyone’s antics got too rowdy. Meanwhile, the underclassmen would always greet you when you bumped into them on campus and a few of them (namely Shirabu) would ask for copies of your old notes if not actual help for their own studying. 

Out of everyone on the team, however, you find yourself spending the most time with Semi and Tendou. 

With Semi it was like he was always in your orbit; you were in the same class as him, often sneaking glances at each other whenever a teacher announced the next exam or started a particularly difficult topic, sometimes even sharing earbuds during study periods so he could recommend you some new songs to listen to. He was also in the same band as Natsumi and her girlfriend, so you knew firsthand how talented he was and how well he synergized with his bandmates. 

(Semi was also the occasional privy into your interactions with Toshi, but no one else had to know that.) 

With Tendou, though, the best way you can describe how he became part of your life is diffusion, his presence slipping in between cracks without you even noticing; a nudge of the elbow here, an over-the-shoulder lean there. 

He once called you Doc after finding out about your plans for the future and the name stuck with everyone on the team, much to your amusement. 

You also cracked up at enough of his jokes for him to assume you shared the same sense of humor and things went from there as the redhead climbed up the concentration gradient with genuine questions about your life and how you were.

And ions always knew when there was an area of low concentration. 

“Did something happen with you and Wakatoshi-kun?”

He wasn’t called the Guess Monster for nothing, you suppose. 

Semi raises an eyebrow at this, clearly just as curious, but stays silent.

You sigh, then resign to at least tell them the basics. 

“Toshi’s leaving for Tokyo right after exams. I think you already know that part.” They nod. Well, more like Semi nods while Tendou just blinks back. 

You swallow, if only to prevent a lump in your throat from forming. “I’m just not quite sure what that means for us, you know?”

Semi gives you a small frown. “You don’t think you two can handle a long-distance relationship?”

“It’s not that,” Your shoulders rise and fall as you sigh. “Well, not just that, you know? Maybe distance will be a problem, maybe it won’t, but it’s still there. And then there’s the problem with time and-” You bite back the word volleyball with a small cough. “-and priorities.” You say instead before clearing your throat. 

“Toshi already has a clear future in mind for himself and I’m just not quite sure where I fit in all of it, you know?”

Tendou just wrinkles his nose. “You know you can just tell him, right?” He leans back in his chair. “Wakatoshi-kun’s a beast on the court but he’s completely inept anywhere else. You of all people would know that.” 

“I don’t think there’s much to tell him.” 

“Toshi, I’m upset about you leaving. Toshi, I've been crying myself to sleep for the past few nights. Toshi, I’m sad, please hug me .” 

You don’t take offense to the (albeit, well-done) imitation of your voice but you scowl nonetheless. “Only one of those is accurate.” 

The redhead raises a single, thin brow. 

You sigh. “Okay fine, two.” Then you shake your head. “It’s not as easy as you make it sound, you know.”

“But it can be!”

This brings a sharp hiss from the librarian, making Tendou duck his head onto the table and behind the protection of his chemistry textbook.  

He lifts his chin just enough so his eyes peep over the cover. “I don’t get it, Doc,” he says, this time much softer. “You won’t be able to know his feelings if you don’t ask him yourself.”

Not even the nickname was enough to ease the heaviness in your gut. 

“Maybe I don’t need to know how he feels about it and just,” you gesture with your hands, not quite finding the words. 

“Settle?” Semi offered. 

“Yeah.” Both of your friends frown at this but you ignore it. “Just not say anything at all and settle with whatever’s there. It’ll be easier on the both of us, I think.”

Even with half his face hidden, you can spot Tendou’s frown deepening. “That would say more about Wakatoshi-kun than it does about you, to be honest.”

“Well I’m the only one who has to adjust to anything, so what would it say about me?” 

“Just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen to be honest,” Semi says.

“Or you made peace with the idea that you're more serious about him way more than he is about you.” Tendou finishes. “Which isn’t true, by the way,”

You weren’t quite sure what to say about that.

“We should proceed to the next lesson.” you swallow, glancing at them but not really looking.  “Do you guys still remember how to do stoichiometry?” quick ew

Semi all but groans at this, then flips through his notebook to the first few pages. 

Tendou narrows his eyes at you, but you ignore him in favor of helping Semi relearn the entire first semester’s worth of chemistry in the next hour.

As a child, you learned to never ask for more than what’s already given to you. 

You always waited to be offered seconds at the table and never let your gaze linger on anything in the stores when you went out with your family so you didn’t give them any ideas. 

And even on the rare occasions that you do let your parents let you get things, like a toy or an article of clothing, you always went for the least expensive option, thinking it would trouble them the least.  

Even if what you got wasn’t what you really wanted. 

It was later when you realized that you did this less out of thrift and more out of the need to not burden anyone. To make yourself as easy to look after as possible.

What you have is enough, you would reason. Asking for anything more would be selfish of you.  

By middle school you started to put in the effort to stop with the martyrdom and let your parents actually get you nice things. 

(Even when you didn’t feel like you deserved any of it.) 

But habits, you learned, are often hard to break, and even when you let your parents get you things that weren’t from the discount racks, the need to be convenient never quite went away.

Enter your relationship with Ushijima.

You never asked for more than whatever he could give, and you made sure to keep it that way. 

Since both of you lived in the dorms, you didn’t really find the need (and the time) to spend time together out of campus unless it was a holiday. 

Even if you were to go outside of school on a regular week, it would usually be a study date at a nearby café or at the public library to save on time and money. 

Other times you would join Wakatoshi and the rest of the VBC when they went out to watch a college game. You know enough of the sport to know how it works, but otherwise you leave the analysis to Toshi and the rest of the team. 

In between chapters of Japanese literature, you look up from your textbook. “So will you be going back to Sendai as soon as you’re done with the negotiations?”

Ushijima does the same, putting down his pen and turning off his calculator. “My uncle- my mother’s brother- offered me a place to stay for the night.”

“Will you be driven to Tokyo, then?”

“I’ll be taking the train. The earliest outbound ride after exams is on Friday evening.”

“I see.” 

And you leave it at that, turning back to your book and ignoring the lump in your throat as you review the writing styles of Tayama Katai. 

It takes a few moments before you hear the sound of Ushijima’s fingers typing into his calculator again.

If Natsumi didn’t need her textbooks for the upcoming exams, you were sure she would’ve set them on fire. 

Or maybe Toshi’s books, but you didn’t dare ask.

In lieu of this, your roommate scowls as you close the door behind the both of you. “He’s leaving right after exams?” Then she sets down her books onto her desk with enough force to make it rattle on its legs. “You two could at least hang out before he leaves for Tokyo?” 

You wince at the sound before shaking your head. “I don’t mind.” 

Natsumi mumbles something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like Of course you don’t before turning to you with astonishing speed. 

“How many dates have you gone on exactly?” She folds her arms across her chest. “And eating meals together in the cafeteria doesn’t count.”

You were about to open your mouth.

“Watching volleyball games doesn’t count either. Neither do study sessions.”

And what comes out of your mouth instead is a sigh.

Natsumi takes in how long it took for you to reply and scowls deeper. “How is that your boyfriend?” 

“We go out every once in a while!” 

“Yeah, just about as much as you and I do.” 

“It’s functional.” You resign, sitting on your bed. 

“It’s the bare minimum.” She sighs. “Look, I know you both like each other but come on, you deserve way more than he seems inclined to give.” 

“But-”

“Uh-uh, don’t even get me started on how you refuse to ask for more than the bare minimum from just about everyone you know.” 

Hammer right on the nail, you internally wince. 

But Tsumi doesn’t stop there. “If he loves you the way you love him, he’d give more, no questions asked.” 

But you didn’t even know how to ask for that in the first place. 

A lump grows in the back of your throat, and you try to swallow around it. 

How could you, when you’ve resigned a good chunk of your life to the martyrdom of being convenient? 

“Did I ever tell you about how Fumi and I got together?” Natsumi says after a while. 

Fumiko, Natsumi’s girlfriend and fellow bandmate with Semi, was someone you only ever knew through association. You can count on one hand the number of conversations you had without your mutual friends. 

Nonetheless, you shake your head, also wondering how Fumiko Sato, one of the most mild-mannered girls you had ever met, ended up with your firecracker of a roommate. 

Natsumi pulls out her desk chair to sit on it. “She was quiet at the start, yeah, and she always had trouble expressing herself.” 

If you looked closely, you could see Tsumi’s eye’s glaze over wistfully. “Semi-kun was a great help too, what with the band. And you already knew that I liked her first.” 

You nod this time, remembering how your roommate used to  return to your dorm ready to talk your ear off about Fumiko and how adorable she was or to scream into her pillow in frustration at conversations that went awry. 

“When we got together I realized that she still retained the part of her that was too afraid to really open up to me. So I kept reaching.” Natsumi loosened her school ribbon and kicked off her shoes. “And for a while I thought that my efforts were useless but I knew she needed someone who would reach for her until eventually she reached back.” 

A fond smile grew on Natsumi’s lips. “And now we meet each other halfway.” She shook her head, perhaps a little embarrassed. “This isn’t always the case, but it helps to know that halfway is the default. And she’d let me know if I need to reach more or just wait.” 

“How do you know?” You ask quietly. 

“She tells me.” 

If only it were that easy, you want to say. 

“And you deserve to be met all the way, not just half.” Natsumi gets up to press a sisterly kiss at the top of your head and says nothing else. 

You don’t quite know how to process all this but you nod all the same. 

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

Exam weeks at Shiratorizawa were always hectic to a certain degree. 

But now on the Saturday preceding final exams, the flurry of stress and caffeine that already plagued students increased tenfold, it seems, and with all libraries at full capacity, you and Ushijima opted to have lunch at a nearby café and study there. 

“Would you like to go out for dinner after exams?” he asked as you were about to shift gears from Calculus to English.  

Golden sunlight poured in from the café windows and over your table, then reflecting off the empty plates and remnants of your drinks. 

You look up from your notebook with a furrow between your brows. “Don’t you have to prepare for your trip?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have to pack much. I have plenty of time.” 

You hum. “Maybe we can eat somewhere near the station, then?” Then you reach for your cup to finish the last of your beverage. 

A few strands of green hair tussle as Toshi nods. “It’s a date, then.” He says, which makes you smile up at him as you set your cup down. 

“Yes it is,” You concede before turning back to your English textbook.

As you pour over some vocabulary you hear Toshi shift in front of you, and from your peripheral you realize he was opening his own English textbook. 

After a few minutes, he calls your name, making you look up. 

“Can you help me with something?” 

“Yeah?” 

He pushes his book towards you and points to a particular word with the tip of his pencil. “How do you pronounce this word?” 

“Ah uhm-” You look at the word again. “Compromise.” You say slowly. 

“Compromise,” he repeats, the low rumble of his voice carefully forming around the foreign syllables. He repeats it one more time before asking, “What does it mean? Is it the same as agreement?” 

You shake your head. “Agreement is goi, a mutual understanding between two people.” you start. “Compromise is goi dakyo, agreeing to terms that aren’t exactly the standard you want, but it's the only course of action available.” Then you shake your head. “If that makes sense.” 

“It does,” Toshi nods, then slides his book back to scribble into the margins of his pages. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime, Toshi.” 

You: *sent a link* 

You: i looked up some places we could eat near the station that weren't fastfood and this was the best option. 

You: it’s walkable but it’s still a little ways off from campus 

You: we can take the bus if you want to save time? it’s along the route of the one i take when i head home. 

Toshi: The restaurant looks good. 

Toshi: But I don’t need to rush too much since I’ll be taking the night train.

Toshi: If it’s alright, I’d like to walk with you there

You: sure thing! 

Toshi: Thank you.

© ochakourarakah 2023. do not copy or repost.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima fic #ushijima headcanons #haikyuu x reader #from the oven: haikyuu!! #from the oven: multichapter #multichapter: araw-araw #mine

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 5: Phone Sex

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader

Words: 1,526

Warnings: COVID lockdown, sex toy (dildo), masturbation, slightly dom!Pedro i guess

A/N: I had this half written and then decided I hated it so deleted everything and came up with a new idea lmao. I think it’s better than before but hopefully you guys think it’s good too

“I just miss you is all,” “I know, Y/N, I miss you too.” Pedro said, his voice seeming extra nasally over the phone, “But you know that this lockdown thing is important. The whole COVID situation is serious.” “Of course,” you assured him, “Obviously it’s important. But just cause it’s important doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Pedro chuckled and you heard him repositioning himself, a slight groan as he stretched out his legs. “Terrible timing really,” you continued, happy to keep wallowing in the misfortune of being unable to see your new boyfriend in person.   “Terrible,” Pedro agreed, pausing for a beat before he said, “We only just started having sex.” That made you laugh, “I think the universe has it in for us.” “Definitely. It’s the only explanation.” He was still laughing at his own joke but you’d begun to think. It was true that you’d only been able to sleep together a handful of time before everything had been turned on its head. But you had him on the phone now. Maybe you couldn’t touch him or kiss him or do any of the things you really wanted to do with him, but you could do some things.   “Y’know what we should do?” “What? And don’t say anything about breaking lockdown.” “I wasn’t going to, ass! No, we should tell the universe to fuck off.” “Okay...fuck off universe,” You let out an exasperated sound, not sure if he was being deliberately obtuse or if your hints had been too subtle, “Not like that. I’ll get us started...” you took a breath and then let your voice become a little more flirty, “what are you wearing?” “What am I weari- OH.” “Cause I’m wearing very little.” Pedro didn’t speak for an agonising moment that had you wondering if he’d be into your suggestion, but when he did his voice sounded kind of horse and rough, “How little?” “Well I was about to have a shower when you called so just a towel.” It was a lie but he didn’t need to know you’d been wearing the same oversized shirt and pyjama pants for three days. You held your phone between your ear and shoulder as you quietly undressed from the waist down. If he heard the sounds of you undressing he didn’t acknowledge them. You heard his breath in your ear and then, “Well I guess I need to catch up then.” and then the sound of his zip being drawn down.   Just that sound, metallic and slow, had you whining, half anticipation for what was coming and half longing for the physical proximity you weren’t allowed.   “Oh, honey, you miss me that much huh?” You nodded before realising he couldn’t see, quietly admitting you did.   “I want you to get your dildo okay? If you have multiple, then get your favourite. And then go ahead and get nice and comfy on the bed.” You were already digging your toy out from your drawer before he’d even finished his instructions.  

When you were back on your bed, you gave him the word that you were good to continue. “Okay sweetheart, go ahead and put the dildo aside for a moment. Gonna start with your fingers first. So, let me hear you spit into your hand.” You obliged, curious to see what he’d ask of you since the sex you’d had up til then was all fairly vanilla and equal. Neither of you had had a chance to try to take the lead or give instructions before the separation.   “Now let me hear you rub that spit on your pussy. I want you wet, fast, because honey I have been thinking about your cunt for days and I’m not sure I can wait too long before I hear it being fucked.” You bit your lip as you spread the spit along your slit and then spat into your palm again to focus more saliva around your hole.   “Good girl,” Pedro purred from the other end of the line, “Put me on speaker, sweetheart, you’re going to need both hands free.” You fumbled for a second and then set the phone beside you, “What do you want me to do Pedro?” “How many fingers do you think you take? Do we need to work up from one?” “Two. I can take two.” “Are you sure? Okay, then I want you to use one hand to play with your clit while you get two fingers into your cunt. And I mean as deep as they’ll go. No stopping at the first knuckle. No pausing to take one out and work up to two. You said you can do two so you’re going to do two, understand.” “Yes,” you whined, hands slipping down to fulfil his order. You were already worked up from the sudden loss of sex and all the time you’d spent fantasising about being reunited with Pedro. Not to mention the way he was talking now, and all his instructions. It was hot. And you were getting wet.   Pedro fell mostly quiet as he listened to you pleasuring yourself, occasionally palming himself for a moment of relief. He didn’t want to cum too quickly but he could hear how wet you were and so could not trust himself to stop if he properly started to jerk off. But you could hear how aroused his was from the way his voice dropped to a low growl, sometimes becoming a touch breathy as he tried to breathe normally and talk you to orgasm at the same time. After you’d succeeded in getting two fingers into your hole he groaned and you nearly laughed with how giddy the sound made you.  

“How thick is your dildo?” “Umm,” it was hard to quantify at the best of times let alone in the middle of phone sex. “Similar to my size?” “Smaller than you,” “Good, you’ll only need to get a third finger in before I tell you to fuck yourself properly.” You whimpered but that only enticed Pedro more and he was soon instructing you further, adding in more praise to encourage you. And then suddenly you were panting as three fingers brushed your walls and your other hand jerkily rubbed your clit.   “That’s it good girl. Fuck you sound so good, your wet pussy, your moans. You’ve got me so fucking hard and leaking all over my sheets. But you know what I need to hear. So pick up the dildo now.” “Oh thank god,” you whined, grateful he wasn’t going to make you wait, desperate for the smooth stroke you could get with a toy that your fingers just couldn’t manage. “I love how much you love getting your pussy fucked. So let me hear it. Put the phone down near your cunt so I can hear exactly how soaked you are.” It was an obscene request, entirely depraved, and yet you could only moan and do as he asked, letting him hear as you worked the dildo into your pussy.   “That’s it,” it growled, “be a good girl and take it all.” Every now and then another order floated to you from the phone – sometimes egging you on, sometimes telling you to stop and breath and enjoy how it felt. But finally you were taking as much as would fit inside you.   “How does it feel?” “I wish it was you,” Pedro chuckled, “I wish it was me too.” But then more seriously, “give it a few small thrusts and tell me how that feels.” “Oh god, so good,” “Yeah? That’s very good to hear. Don’t stop fucking yourself until you cum, okay? I want you to get harder and faster until you are pounding your cunt the way I’m going to the minute I see you again.” “Are y-you touch- touching yourself to-o?” you asked through panted breaths as you pumped the dildo faster.   “I am, sweetheart, I held off for a bit but I am now. Move the phone closer so you can hear me the way I've heard you.” You snatched for your phone with one hand, never stopping the steadily increasing thrusts from the dildo, and then returned your fingers to your clit. Through the line you could hear Pedro swearing and, behind his voice, the unmistakable slapping sound of his fist on his lubed up cock. It made you moan and change your pace to try to match his.   “Honey, I’m so fucking hard for you. Need to hear you cum.” Whatever your response was it was not a word, but it was all you could manage as you pushed yourself closer to the edge. You pressed firmer against your clit, thrust the dildo harder, wanting to reach your release so you could hear Pedro’s.   “You al-most there sweet-heart? I’m so so close.” “Close,” you whined, “really fuckign close.” “Fuck I can’t,” was all Pedro managed to get out before a loud groan hit your ears, his jerk off sounds suddenly halting as he came.   But that was all you needed to hit your climax too, revelling in the sounds Pedro made as much as the feeling in your body.  

#my writing #my fics #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagine #hesitant to reread this one in case it sucks tbh #i mean none of these are super thoroughly edited anyway #but i wrote this last night before bed #and haven't looked at it since #so if it's terrible blame the sleepy bitch

[jeonhwang]

Protect

Summary: a fluff. Waking up to hyunjin crushing you and you ended up being whipped by a sleeping hyunjin.

Warnings: none. Suffocating fluff ??????

You stirred awake to the feeling of something heavy on top of you. When you open one of your eyes to look at what it was, the edges of your mouth stretched to their limit.

It was Hyunjin, sleeping soundly with half of his body on of you. He was on his stomach, facing the windows, shirtless and limbs were either tangled with yours or around you. Skin to skin, warmth radiating from his body making goosebumps rise, the sound of the air conditioner subtly filling the space. Basking in the feeling with your eyes still heavy with sleep, you take a look at your surrounding, not surprised to see that you were already so close to the edge of the bed, only inches away from falling.

Wow. For sure you remembered going to bed alone, and by then it was already past 12AM. Hyunjin must've left work late. Maybe later than ever.

The room was quiet, as quiet as it could get with his soft snores and the sound of the ac. Lights from the streets outside breached through the curtains and illuminated his silhouette perfectly.

You felt your right arm getting numb, as he was using it as a pillow and you could tell that you two were in this position for quite some time. Turning your head a little bit to your right, you were now face to face with a sleeping hyunjin. His forehead right in front of your lips, you only needed to lean a bit and you could kiss it. His mop of thick hair was right under your nose, channeling his sweet and masculine smell.

Using your free hand, you thread his hair gently, tracing his thick eyebrows that you were very much jealous of, boping his nose softly trying to not wake him up. Not that he would jolt awake either way too, since he slept like a log.

It was at times like this that you felt the most love for him. Though he couldn't see or couldn't exactly feel your doings. You peck his forehead softly, lingering there whilst inhaling his scent. The immense feeling of protectiveness against him was filing your chest, swelling, it almost made you suffocate.

Remembering the first time he slept with you, he was so shy that he hid his face under his pillow. You had to pull the pillow away, throwing it on the floor and held his wrist to stop him from hiding his beautiful face from you.

"What are you thinking? We are just going to sleep!" "I thought you meant something else?" You smack his bicep lovingly at his naughty thoughts.

That wasn't all, he wore long sleeves and long pants. Thankfully it was for awhile. He slowly changed from long sleeves to short sleeves, and then sleeveless before going shirtless. Within the span of two months, he went to bed only in his boxers.

Even the close proximity between you two used to be overwhelming, but he changed that for you. Sleeping alone was okay, but even better with him crushing against you. His weight over you was just the perfect thing to lul you into the deepest sleep every single night you were together.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed the exposed skin of his back, short nails slightly raking over it as you knew how he'd like it to be. Up and down was the motion, one hand occasionally stopping to pat gently as if to lul him into a deeper sleep if it was possible. The sound of his soft snores tickled your neck as he shuffled a little bit, crushing you more.

He was oblivious to it, searching for a more comfortable position in his sleep and it was just so endearing how his hair was like a lion's mane around his face, emphasizing his swollen face. His plush lips jutted out, slightly parted and it kind of looked as if he was posing for a camera if you didn't know better.

Chuckling to yourself, your hands now brushing away the hair from his face, afraid it was going to disturb his beauty sleep and you know just how important it was for him to have his rest. He was the kind of person who would give his everything to anyone, which was good really. You didn't hate him for that. Sometimes he gave too much to others that he drained himself of everything, leaving almost none to himself.

He was a selfless person, probably the most selfless you've ever meet and how lucky of you to have him. Still, it didn't sit right with you how he just let people suck the life out of him, telling everyone he was okay when deep down, he was tired and did all that he can for them, afraid to let them down.

Leave it to you to tell him that it was okay to let people down. It was okay to not be able to reach the benchmark as he could always try again. It was okay to fail, because only then would he feel the joy of the sweet success. It was okay to rest, to slow down and that no one was going to leave him it he did.

He was stubborn, yes, but after reminding him of it many times he would soften up eventually and say "fuck that" before leaving the practice room to just roam around town, going back later in the evening to continue where he left it. At least the rest he had with wandering around town helped to clear his mind.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a hand suddenly crawling to cup your right boob. Holding your breath, you took a peek at him incase he was awake but his soft snores told otherwise. Now looking back at the hand on your boob, you rest your hand on top of his, caressing the soft skin.

Not a new habit, but he usually did it when he was awake, squeezing it softly that it was almost ticklish for you. "I'm keeping your boobs warm, as a substitute for your bra." He said to convince you.

"What makes you think that I want a 'bra' from you when I don't even want to wear one during the day?"

His eyes widened at this, a soft gasp coming out of his lips before replying back. "Then just don't wear it."

Giggling, you told him that you must because you were scared your boobs were gonna look pointy and eventually saggy when you get older, it triggered the both of you to laugh out loud.

"They are still beautiful for me baby. If we're alone in the house, don't be afraid to do so. If you don't like it just don't it."

That was just how he was. Endearing, soft, and the most kind hearted person. And you wished for nothing but the best for him. Giving him a kiss on his temple, you snuggled closer to him as you continued patting his back softly, lulling the both of you into a deep sleep.

a/n bro idk.. I just went with it because this is how I feel whenever I see Hyunjin on screen 😭😭 proteccccc

#hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin imagine

[hornyhornyhimbos]

"Seeing Starrs" ~ Argyle

Summary: When tension is high in the recording studio, Argyle knows exactly how to relieve it… and it has you seeing stars.

Pairing: Modern!Radio DJ!Argyle x Co-Host!AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 1,975

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) unprotected piv sex (don't be silly, wrap ur willy!!) doggy style activities, spanking, hair pulling, fingering for like a second, nicknames (baby, slut; sir), maybe dom/sub dynamics? i gave argyle a last name bc why tf not, lots of beatles references oops, not beta read, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: Who would I be if I didn't write an Argyle fic for National 🍃 Day?

Originally Written: 04/20/2023

stranger things masterlist can be found here!

To say you had the hots for your coworker… Well, that might've been the biggest understatement of the year.

To be fair, who wouldn't? From his slick, raven hair to the airiness of his voice to the intricate knowledge he held of a soundboard, it was hard to say Argyle Montoya was anything but gorgeous.

It definitely didn't make matters any better that you knew him better than anyone else. You'd spend hours every single day talking about anything you could find, in between DJ-ing for one of California's biggest radio stations of course. You felt like you'd begun to know him better than even he did.

Maybe that's how you'd weaseled your way in and found out he was currently single and very ready to mingle.

Somehow or another, he'd let it slip that he'd been particularly… lonely, let's say. And maybe that was why you'd been flashing him extra special glances while he was working, paying extra special attention to the way his hands looked roaming around the soundboard. You could swear you felt your heart flip as he flicked the microphone switch, leading back into his next segment.

The two of you made eye contact for what was most likely only a second, but felt like hours. The normal caramel shade of his eyes had faded into obsidian, and you were surprised his glare hadn't burned a hole right through you.

"That was the iconic Lucy In The Sky," he started, his breath hot on the mike. "Can never go wrong with The Beatles. Can you, Y/N?"

Your stomach turned as his gaze zeroed in on you again. "Nope," you chuckled into your mike.

"I don't know about you guys but we're huge fans of The Beatles here at 102 The Groove, which is why… drum roll, please."

"Dum dum dum dum," you improvised, forcing yourself to chuckle at the way he motioned toward you. His expressions were normal, average Argyle. But that glare… that stupidly sexy glare was going to be the death of you.

He laughed, a sound that managed to be sweet and rough simultaneously. "For a half hour, in honor of Ringo's sold out stadium tour, we're gonna be playing nothing but the best of The Beatles. Maybe a Wings song in there somewhere, maybe a Plastic Ono Band song or two. And who knows? Maybe at the end we'll be giving away a couple tickets to a very lucky listener. Here's Come Together to start us off."

You panicked, looking over your schedule. You were sure you didn't remember there being a half hour block scheduled for that hour, much less a Beatles block. Your eyes drifted along the page, examining every word, down to last syllable and-

"What are you doing?" Argyle asked, practically hovering over your chair.

You let out a strangled breath, your heart beating fast from his close proximity. "I-" you struggled, attempting to collect your thoughts. "There wasn't a half hour block scheduled."

"I know. Which is why I reiterate, what are you doing?" He eyes locked with yours, and it wasn't until that moment that you realized how close his large hand was to yours on the desk.

"What are you-"

"Don't play innocent with me," he said. All cheerfulness and light had left his voice, what he met you with was a sound as dark as his pupils."You think I haven't noticed all those little looks you've been sending me?"

Oh. Oh. "Oh that," you teased, trying to keep calm, though every inch of your body was screaming at you to jump his bones. "It's nothing really."

"Before I say anything either of us will regret, are you open to me being completely honest?"

Your stomach was doing so many somersaults, it rivaled an Olympic gymnast. "Of course, you can always be honest with me." The whole truth. You'd never be dishonest with Argyle, inside or outside of… whatever this was. And you needed him to know that you wanted nothing less than complete honesty from him.

"Do you think me trying to hide a boner from you all damn day is nothing?"

Your heart fluttered and you could already feel arousal forming in between your legs. You were sure it was a risk, but that didn't seem to stop you as you licked your lips, following it up with, "Is there anything I can do to fix it?"

"Yeah," he said as he kneeled in front of you, his tall figure still managing to be eye level with you even down on his knee. "I think fucking that look out of you would fix it. How 'bout you?"

You were rendered speechless as he lifted you from your chair, both of you standing back up to your full height. He towered over you, his brows raised as he awaited your response. You simply nodded, afraid your voice would betray you.

"Gonna need words, baby." You both cursed and commended him for being such a gentleman.

"Yes," you answered in a low moan.

His eyes flicked around the room, and you followed them like a lost puppy. "Close your blinds."

He walked over to his side of the studio, tugging down his blinds in swift, hurried motions. You stood like a deer in headlights, unsure if you could will your legs to move.

"Do you not understand plain English?" he all but growled. "Close the damn blinds."

You knew your lips would betray you at some point or another, but you didn't expect them to betray you by saying, "No."

Two letters, one syllable, and somehow the worst possible answer you could have ever given him.

He strided back toward you, one of his hands landing on your hip while the other met your hair, caressing it with his pointer finger. "Do you want everyone in this office to see me fucking you senseless?"

Your breathing sped up, and by the expression on his face, he already knew your response. Still, you shook your head, willing your hand to reach over and close the blinds.

In an instant, his mouth was on yours and his hands on your skin. The two of you pushed and pulled at each other, and you hadn't noticed you'd moved until your back hit the wall. You arched away from the foam, secretly fearing you'd damage the equipment if you were too hard on it.

His lips traveled down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the base. Your hands tangled in his hair, the soft texture contrasting the roughness of his hands and mouth.

"Tell me," he said, his voice low, "how you need me."

You could think of about thirty positions you wanted him to take you in and twenty more places you wanted his mouth. You breathed heavily, one thing prominent in your mind. "I want," you panted, "I want you to bend me over your desk."

"Oh, yeah?" he smirked, lifting you up and forcing your legs around his waist. You willed your body to hold on to him, mewling as his rock-solid erection settled against your core. "Your wish is my command then, baby."

His mouth connected with yours once again as he carried you over to his desk, untangling your legs from him. "Bend over," he demanded.

You turned, lowering yourself onto the desk with the speed of a turtle. "Yes, sir," you sighed, raising your ass slowly to meet his tented jeans.

"Sir. I like the sound of that, baby."

His hands met the waistband of your pants, slowly slipping them down your legs until your cunt was on full display for me. His hand met your asscheek, gripping the supple skin, his nails embedding dirty crescent shapes into you. "Look at you."

Your hips canted as his nails dug into you. "Marking me as yours?" you asked, grinding against him.

"Hell yeah, I am." He smacked your ass, and your head fell forward. "You like that? Making sure everyone knows you belong to now?"

"Uh-huh," you answered in a breathy sigh. You rubbed your butt against him, and you were positive you'd created a wet spot on his jeans.

His hand trailed down your body, until his fingers met your folds, your slick soaking the digits. His opposite hand moved to his jeans, undoing the fastening quickly. "God, so wet, baby."

"Only for you," you answered as you rutted against him, sinking his fingers further into you. "O-Oh," you moaned, throwing your head back.

"Not so fast," he instructed, moving his hands to your hips and lining you up with the tip of his cock. "You can have my fingers later, baby. My cock needs you right now."

He slowly slid in, and you nearly came just from the sheer girth of his dick. He pulled at your hips, beginning to create the perfect rhythm. The sounds of skin and slick filled the air, and sweat began to pool in the dips of your breasts.

He rocked into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot with every thrust. His hips slammed against yours, so hard you were sure you'd have bruises. His fingers grasped and squeezed at your love handles, and you couldn't help but whine from the pure pain and pleasure he was providing you with.

"You dirty little thing," he grunted with a particularly rough thrust. "Wanting everyone in the office to see me fucking you like this."

You moaned, fucking back onto his length. The thought was enough to have you seeing stars.

"Little slut. Oh, shitttt," he exhaled, his dick twitching inside of you. "God, I'm close, baby."

Your eyes screwed shut as you rasped, "Me too, sir." Your bodies glistened with sweat under the hot lights, creating extra friction that you craved. You moaned as his hand met your ass again, slapping you in some form of disapproval.

"Not yet, baby," he instructed, one of his hands meeting your hair. "I need to see your eyes when it happens."

He pulled your head back, and you forced your eyes to meet his. Your pussy fluttered around him as your climax built, rutting your hips against him until the head of his cock was surely hitting your cervix. He held your head up, his grip so tight, you wouldn't be surprised if he pulled out your hair. Not that you cared, if he pulled your hair any harder, you'd probably cum just from that.

With a couple more thrusts, he was spilling inside of you, and you were finishing in sync with him. Your walls pulsed around him, milking his cock for everything it was worth. "Fuckfuckfuck," he was groaning in your ear, his hand firm on your hip as you both worked through your highs.

He stayed buried inside of you until the last possible moment, making you cum three more times before he pulled out. You weren't even sure he had pulled his pants back up before speaking into the mike. "That was Photograph by Ringo Starr to close us out. Y/N, you wanna announce what number caller is gonna win pit seats for Ringo's show at the Greek Theater?"

You tried your hardest to not sound like you were recovering from an earth shattering orgasm as you said, "How 'bout caller number four?"

"I like that number. Call 213-555-9333 to claim your tickets now!"

He pulled away from the mike, his gaze closing in on you. The phones began ringing, and as he picked up, his gaze was still zeroed in on you. "Caller number four, who is this?!"

The person spoke, but you didn't hear a word he said. Your gaze stayed on his as you mouthed, "it's a lucky number, considering how many orgasms you provided me with."

He rolled his eyes, mouthing back, "How do you feel about me beating that record later?"

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @serenity-lattes

#imagine #imagines #blurb #blurbs #one shot #one shots #argyle #argyle x reader #argyle x y/n #argyle imagine #argyle imagines #argyle blurb #argyle blurbs #argyle one shot #argyle one shots #argyle smut #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things blurb #stranger things blurbs #stranger things one shot #stranger things one shots #stranger things smut #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #hornyhornyhimbos

[irrrationalfangirl]

The Princess and the Freak

A/N: Sorry if this is absolute trash. I haven’t written in forever and really wanted to write something about eddie. especially with a cheerleader reader b/c…yeah

You hated eddie munson. And he hated you too. At least you thought he did. You couldn’t stand the occasional spectacle he’d make in the cafeteria toward some clique. He couldn’t stand seeing your face plastered everywhere around school. You couldn’t help you were popular AND on the cheer squad. Despite this feud, you got paired together in Mr. Bauer’s chemistry lab. Every Tuesday you were forced to watch as the metalhead contributed nothing to the class other than writing in his tattered notebook about some Hellfire plan.

Well it was Tuesday and you were currently holding two beakers in your hands, a bigger one in your left and a smaller one on the right. You were about to pour the right one into the left beaker when you realized you had missed a step. You looked over to see Eddie twirling a pen between his fingers as he stared at the wall. You probably stared too long at how his hands twirled the pen. How strong they looked as the bulging veins appeared around his hand with each movement. You started looking at his rings when you caught yourself in the act. You nudged him with your elbow. “Eddie.” He stared at the wall for another second then looked at you. “What is it, princess?” He asked with an obvious smirk. You huffed. “It’s Y/N. Could you actually be useful and read off those instructions?” You asked, motioning to the white paper located across the table. “Anything for the cheerleader.” He replied. You just rolled your eyes this time. He started reading off the materials section and you were about to ask him to skip to the second page when he mentioned a certain chemical you neglected to use. You scurried off to the shelf to look for what you needed and his eyes followed you. He watched as you stood on the tip of your toes to reach the chemical on the high shelf then his eyes followed up from your legs to your back, noticing your cheer uniform through the thin fabric of the lab apron. His eyes darted back to the wall when you turned around. He watched as you poured the chemical into the solution. He noticed that you were biting you bottom lip as you often did when you were nervous. His face started started feeling hot. Why the hell did he suddenly start staring at you?

It wasn’t for another week or so that you two interacted again. He worked himself around Jason’s party, selling weed to whoever had the cash. He noticed you talking to Chrissy in the corner and he made his way over. He came up behind you and said loud in your ear so that he could be heard over the music. “Well if it isn’t my favorite lab partner?” You jumped and turned around to find your face in close proximity to his. As if on cue, both of your faces turned bright red. “Hi” was the only thing to come out of your mouth. He backed away, confused by the response. “What? No snarky remark?” You frowned at him. “Maybe if someone hadn’t yelled in my ear I could’ve given a better response.” You retorted. He decided to fight back. “Well maybe if you two weren’t standing in the corner gossiping over some shit. I could’ve simply asked if you wanted anything.” He said as he opened the lunchbox. You huffed and stormed off to the bathroom, not paying him anymore attention. He rolled his eyes this time and went on to the next possible customer. You immediately went to the sink and splashed water in your face as you tried to forget the way his brown eyes stared into yours. Damn it. This again. You scrubbed your face harder with the water, hoping that it would distract you from the fluttering in your stomach.

It was Friday again and you were practicing this one move with Chrissy for the upcoming game. You were supposed to perform a backflip but you didn’t know how and Chrissy was helping you stick the landing. “Cmon Y/N. One more time”, she told you. “I know”, you replied, out of breath. She held out her hand to help flip your back as you leaned backwards but you lost balance and landed wrong on your ankle. You feel to the ground. You and Chrissy both shrieked in unison. “Y/N!!”, she yelled. You opened your eyes and clenched your tongue, trying to not say anything inappropriate in front of the team. “Are you okay, Y/N?”, Chrissy asked. “Yeah. Just help me to the bench. She helped you up and took you over to the bench and sat you down. “The nurse is still open. Let’s go take you to get an ice pack”, Chrissy told you. “I appreciate the sentiment, but coach would freak if the star captain walked off during practice”, you half smiled. “Oh right. Well at least I can help you up.” She wrapped her arm under yours and lifted you up again. You started to limp off when coach yelled at you to be back in 20 minutes to watch the team perform the routine since you no longer could. You just waved him off.

You finally made it to the building and made your way inside. As you walked down the hall you heard something humming. Or was it someone? You turned the corner and peered into the room on your left where you thought the noise was coming from. There was Eddie again. He was setting up a table with tiny figures and humming to some song playing low on the radio. You watched as he danced around the room, playing an imaginary guitar. You laughed when you quickly realized he heard you and looked up. You quickly limped off to the nurse’s office. He looked up to find no figure standing in the doorway and stopped what he was doing. He walked towards the hall and found you a good distance away, again, out of breath. “If it isn’t little miss perfect?” He said with a big smile. You grunted loudly and turned around to look at him. “Why can’t you just call me Y/N?!” You exclaimed, limping towards him. “Because it annoys y—wait are you hurt?!” He asked. You were taken aback. Why did he care for your well being? “Twisted my ankle. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go to the nurse”, you quickly replied. You turned back around and walked slowly off when you heard his voice again. “Wait. It’ll be much faster if I carry you”, he said, already making his way towards you. “No!” You exclaimed as he put one hand on you. “I’ve made it this far. I can make it without your help”, you said as you shrugged off his touch. “What? Are you afraid the Hawkins High freak is going to rub off on you?”, he joked. You sighed. “You’re not a freak.” You paused, trying to comprehend the fact that you just complimented him. He got closer to you, leaving hardly any distance between your bodies. “Like I said, the purses noffice-” You cleared you throat. He got even closer. “The nurses office is not far now”, you finally said shyly, looking at the floor. He placed his index finger on the bottom of your chin and guided your face to look at his. You breath hitched. “I’ll be the one to decide if I’m a freak, sweetheart”, he replied, inches from your lips. You started breathing heavily. You couldn’t believe what was happening right now. Did you hit your head too? You whispered into his mouth. “Close…the….distance…Munson.” He obliged and placed his lips on yours. He stopped but you didn’t want him to. You grabbed his neck and brought his lips back to yours. You moaned as his teeth sunk into your bottom lip. His tongue then licked across your teeth, asking for permission and you obliged. Your tongues danced together as you covered about every inch inside of each other’s mouths. He moved his hand under your skirt and clenched your butt. You started grinding against each other when he moved his mouth down to your neck and then your clavicle. You moaned even louder this time, causing you to clamp your hand over your mouth. You felt his smile on your skin. That was when you stopped him. He looked at you, breathless and you only said, “Not here.” He nodded and picked you up as he carried you to the nearest room. He kicked the door closed behind him and slammed you against the wall. “Ow. Eddie. My ankle”, you told him. “I’m sorry. Y/N. I’ll stop”, he said, letting go. You grabbed his hand and placed it back on your butt. “I didn’t say stop” , you said sternly. “Whatever you want, princess” He smiled like a kid in a candy store and placed his mouth back on your neck, leaving all kinds of marks to be seen by coach later. But you had forgotten about practice. Hell, you had forgotten about your ankle. And he for sure was late to Hellfire.

As always let me know what you think and if I should do more!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie x chrissy #fluff #making out #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

[lady-charinette]

Practice makes perfect - Spy x Family

Mission: Mastering the Art of Hugging

“Ready?” Loid asked, keen eyes focused only on her.

Yor nodded. “Ready.”

Loid exhaled and moved closer towards Yor, hand reaching out to encircle her back. Yor twitched the moment his hand met her back, fingers touching her bare skin and the soft fabric of her sweater in the utmost appropriate manner and sending the most inappropriate chills racing down her spine faster than the Thorn Princess claimed the lives of her targets.

Loid slowly closed his eyes once he got close to the flustered woman’s face, Yor followed suit and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Was this how people with heart conditions felt?

Was there a cure for these erratic palpitations?

Could her ribcage fracture from the force of her pounding heart?

Yor’s legs and hands shook the smaller the proximity between them got, and just when Yor felt her husband’s warm, minty fresh breath ghost over her cheek her fists shot out in a mountain toppling slap.

Her hands met air as Loid quickly dodged the lethal attack and stood a good few feet away from his very flustered wife.

Loid rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Maybe we should call it a day.”

Yor’s face nearly blended in with the deep red color of her sweater when she nervously shouted, “N-No! I kn-know I can do it, Lo-Loid!” despite her aggressive reassurance, her entire body was still shaking like a leaf.

Twilight frowned at the sight. ‘She’s far too tense. Maybe I shouldn’t force her if she is this uncomfortable.’ Blue eyes focused on her trembling hands and pink cheeks, ‘What sort of a gentleman am I if I force a woman to kiss me against her will? I’ll have to figure out another way-‘

Twilight’s thoughts were cut short at the sound of Yor’s small voice in the empty apartment. “I’m- I’m sorry.” With hands clasped together as to ask forgiveness, Yor’s gaze was firmly fixated on the floor instead of her husband’s surprised expression. “I’m sorry for risking getting discovered due to my- my inexperience. If only you chose a more experienced woman you wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble to practice these things with me. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.”

“W-what?”

“Please don’t apologize, Yor. The one who has to apologize is me, I didn’t prepare adequately for a very logical and highly possible situation and I overstepped your boundaries without your consent. It was wrong of me to think we could convincingly pull off a fake marriage without at least being comfortable with basic affection.” Loid held her gaze. “…And there is no other woman I would rather- I would feel more comfortable practicing this with.”

At his considerate words and genuine smile, Yor felt her wildly beating heart calm in her chest. Her voice came out stronger when she spoke, “…Thank you, Loid.” Her eyes shyly met his before they lit up with a fiery determination. “Um, about being comfortable with basic affection…why don’t we start with hugs first?”

Twilight bluescreened.

Hugs?

Twilight wanted to slap himself. ‘Of course. Hugs are, by definition, the most common and acceptable form of showing affection to another person! How could I skip over to advanced tactics without going through the very basics first? Brilliant Yor!’

Loid cleared his throat. “Yes, let’s start by getting comfortable with hugging first.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two adults, until Loid cleared his throat again. “Would- shall I start?”

Yor nodded silently, all her bravado from a moment before gone.

Loid took a breath, as if getting ready to start an infiltration operation, before he slowly raised his arms and stretched them out towards Yor.

The civil clerk steeled her nerves, swallowing the lump in her throat before carefully approaching Loid, as if he were a cautious deer ready to bolt at any second.

Even if Yor felt like that deer in this moment.

Hugs should be much easier, she used to hug Yuri all the time when they were still living together, she hugged Anya effortlessly, even Bond when he greeted her excitedly at the doorway when she came home from work.

She could do this.

It was only Loid.

Her husband.

Her fake husband.

Taking a leap of faith, Yor closed her eyes and rushed towards Loid.

She heard a soft ‘oopf’ from the man just as she collided with what she thought was a wall.

Had she accidentally run into the wall? How embarrassing! How much embarrassment would she have to endure today?!

But when Yor slowly opened her eyes, blond hair obstructed her field of vision, along with the warm, solid body of Loid Forger.

Her arms had a death grip around his waist, but she didn’t feel Loid reciprocating the embrace. “Um, Loid?”

Had she gripped him too tightly? Was he still breathing?

The soft rise and fall of his chest against hers confirmed he was indeed, still breathing, and Yor felt the strong beat of his heart thundering against her own. As if their hearts were in a heated competition to see who could escape first from their imprisonment.

As if struck by lightning, Loid’s body jumped slightly before relaxing again, his voice, entirely too close to her ear, sounded so loud in the empty living room. “Y-Yes, sorry.”

And then, she felt his arms wrap around her back.

His embrace was much gentler and Yor loosened her own in response. Was Loid taking deeper breaths now? She felt the odd sensation of his ribcage expanding and deflating in time with his breathing, so unlike the stillness of her targets laying lifelessly in their own pool of blood as Yor’s blade was still lodged into their bodies-

Yor shook her head violently. This was no time to think of her assassinations!

Once her focus returned to the situation at hand, she felt the warmth emanating not only from Loid’s hands on her back, but also his entire body pressed to her own. Was the room temperature always so high before?

She felt – felt – Loid swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing right next to her head resting against his shoulder. Even when she wore heels, she could only ever come up to Loid’s eye level, now in slippers, her head reached his shoulders.

They appeared much broader now than she was aware.

When Yor slightly squeezed his back, Loid’s spine seemed to tingle, or at least that’s what Yor felt pressed up against his body. Had she struck an injury? Did she squeeze too tight and his body protested?

Twilight was reciting old war reports in his head and counting off how many errors he spied on all of them, trying not to let his brain hyperfocus on the way Yor’s hands squeezed at his back.

‘Come on, Twilight, stop acting like a school boy and be an adult about this. This is a normal hug, people hug each-other often, or so I’ve observed in all my years as a spy. Maybe the time my brain was cut off oxygen from Yor’s hug messed with my senses. Why do I feel oddly nervous?’ Twilight’s musings were cut short when Yor loosened her hug, her hands still firmly wrapped around his waist, but no longer cutting off his air supply.

His eyes moved to the shiny black hair filling his field of vision, miraculously avoiding getting nicked by the surprisingly sharp earrings Yor always wore. Yor must take very good care of her hair for it to be so shiny, it felt soft to the touch too, pressing against his cheek and chin pleasantly. Had she used a scented shampoo? The subtle fragrance was far less invasive on his senses than all the other women from his missions.

“Is this okay, Yor?” heart in his throat, Loid hoped he didn’t cross any boundaries or make Yor uncomfortable again.

While they were married on paper, they were practically still strangers, contrary to what Loid always told Yor whenever she doubted her role in the Forger family.

‘It’s for Operation Strix, Yor doesn’t know Anya isn’t my actual daughter, of course she thinks she’s intruding on our family life.’

He could feel Yor shift in his arms, almost as if gauging the way their bodies fit together like two lost puzzle pieces.

‘Two lost puzzle pieces? Getting poetic, Twilight?’ Twilight mentally slapped himself for the odd comparison, focusing back on Yor’s voice when she spoke.

“I’m alright. Are you okay, Lo-Loid?” a sense of relief flooded Loid’s chest, whether from her answer or the comforting warmth from her body, he didn’t want to dwell on for too long.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Loid observed his hands positioned on her back, a respectable distance away from any inappropriate places.

Until he zeroed in on his two forefingers touching Yor’s bare skin through the opening of her sweater.

Loid gawked.

How could he have missed this detail?!  

What would Yor think? Had she not addressed his indecent touch because she felt too uncomfortable? Was she keeping silent to help them from being discovered as a fake family?

‘No, Yor’s comfort must come above all else.’ With this thought in mind, Loid slowly lowered his hand to her waist, now back on the safe barrier of her soft sweater.

Crisis evaded.

Expertly done, Twilight.

Loid was distracted from his thoughts when he felt Yor move her head, soft hair brushing against his face and her warm cheek meeting his neck. “How long do hugs normally last?”

Another indecency!

He hadn’t watched the time at all! How much time had passed? Were they hugging for too long?

“We-we can stop if you like, Yor.”

A moment of tense silence passed between the two adults and Loid was about to take the initiative by breaking the hug when Yor suddenly tightened her grip around his waist.

“Actually...would it be alright if we stayed like this for a little while longer?” her muttered question sounded clear and loud to Loid, possibly due to their close proximity.

Loid felt as if he answered a little too quickly. “For a little while.”

Yor moved her body even closer to him, despite there not being much room to close at all. Her embrace was softer yet firm, and Twilight couldn’t quite remember the last time he got hugged.

Actually, he could.

Fragmented memories of his mother surfaced in his mind, he could no longer remember her face, but he vividly remembered her embrace.

Her arms were thin but lithe, Twilight had always thought her arms could shield him from anything in the world. The sense of security her hugs had given him were greater than the protection of their home.

Her warm hands would always soothingly rub his back whenever he was upset, whether it was at his father’s scolding for playing with his friends past curfew or a bruise. His mother would hum or whisper comforting words in his ear, sometimes she would sway his body gently and lull him into a calm.

Yor suddenly felt Loid tighten his arms around her waist, not enough to hurt, but enough for her to turn her head to catch a glimpse of his face and check on him.

The expression on his face seemed so out of place for a man so kind and peaceful, an expression Yor knew too well, back when she had first started her assassination job, her eyes would have this deeply pained, glazed over look. The look that spoke of thousands of injustices and indescribable pain, a pain so strong it couldn’t compare to the thrust of her weapon into the soft flesh of her targets.

A pain that came from the heart.

With sympathy and a sense of kinship burning in her chest, Yor nuzzled her husband’s shoulder and squeezed back, her hands moving in rhythmic, soothing motions across the expanse of Loid’s back.

He trembled and she only hugged him tighter, feeling the sting alive in her heart resurface.

Yor had gotten many hugs from Yuri, but she couldn’t remember her mother’s embrace or her father’s encouraging pat.

Both adults seemed to relax against each-other, as if melting into the hug that had started so tense and by the book.

They didn’t know for how long they were hugging for, but by the time both of them had calmed down from their respective trips to their painful pasts, the front door of the apartment opened.

“Anya, bought a teddy bear that looks like papa!”

“You mean uncle Franky bought Anya a teddy bear that looks like papa!”

“Woof! Woof!”

The married couple froze at the sound of the familiar voices.

Franky covered Anya’s eyes once he registered the sight before him. “Say Anya, don’t you want Leddy to be comfortable in your room? Why don’t you show him his other stuffed friends in there?”  

“Okay uncle Scruffy!” brimming with excitement at seeing her parents hug in the split second before Franky’s hand had obscured her vision, Anya dashed into her room, ear eagerly pressed against the closed door to spy on the adults.

Loid and Yor slowly turned their heads towards Franky and Bond, both looking equal parts disturbed and unsurprised.

“Seriously, there are kids in this house!” Franky scoffed, unloading a bag of what appeared to be groceries, some treats for Anya and Bond.

“Woof!”

As if burned, Yor and Loid sprung away from each-other. Franky didn’t ignore the fierce blush on Yor’s face nor the very red ears of his friend and colleague, who looked less than pleased to see him at this moment.

Finally some bullying material to annoy the shit out of Twilight.

“I-I’ll make some tea!”

“T-Thank you, Yor!”

Yor scrambled towards the kitchen while Loid glared daggers at Franky, who only wore a shit-eating grin despite Twilight’s death threat. “You’re back…early.”

Franky grinned. “Actually, we were five minutes late, and how productively did you spend your day alone with Mrs. Forger, Mr. Forger?”

If they were alone, Franky would be pronounced missing.

Not because he wasn’t dead, his body simply would’ve never been found after Twilight was done with him.

“I see…” clearing his throat and trying to get rid of the lump in his chest, Loid motioned towards the door. “You’re right, its late, well thank you for looking after Anya and Bond today! I’ll see you tomorrow, Franky.”

 Franky scoffed. “Hey wait, I didn’t have my-!”

Loid slammed the door shut in Franky’s face at the same time Yor returned with two steaming mugs of tea. “Tea?” she tilted her head quizzically, noting Franky’s sudden absence. “Oh? Franky left already?”

Loid cleared his throat, gently guiding Yor towards the couch so they could enjoy their tea. “He said he was exhausted from his day with Anya and Bond and wanted to go home to rest.” He lied smoothly, nodding at Yor in thanks for the hot beverage in his palms.

Yor made herself comfortable on the couch, her cheeks pink and her smile as bright as the sun. “I had fun practicing with hugging today, Loid!”

There was that weird, constricting sensation in his chest again.

Did he have issues with his heart too? Could his digestive problems negatively affect his heart as well?

Loid lifted his mug up to his lips, glancing at Yor’s beaming smile and not being able to suppress his own. “Yes, it seems we’ve gotten…comfortable with that part.”

The two shared a chuckle, each nursing their tea and as the soothing fragrance of the tea and the comforting warmth from Yor’s hug still on his body filled Twilight’s mind, he discovered that the tea seemed to taste much better this evening.   

Bonus:

“Study hard Anya!”

“Be nice to everyone!”

The Forger parents waved goodbye at their daughter leaving for school in the early morning until they could no longer see her.

Loid checked his watch and turned towards Yor. “Well, looks like I’ll be off too. Have a good day at work, Yor.”

Yor returned his smile and dived into Loid’s arms for a hug. “Have a good day at work too, Loid!” she beamed, nuzzling the side of her husband’s neck and dress shirt.

Passerby’s shot them glances varying from amusement to envy and Twilight’s rigid body echoed his surprise at Yor’s sudden advances.

She had initiated a hug first.

It didn’t take long for Loid to overcome his shock and return the hug, perhaps a bit too quickly, too tightly that was proper in public, but they stayed locked in place until a car horn made them both aware of their surroundings.

“Right, I’ll see you at home!” Yor waved goodbye as she ran towards Berlint City Hall, leaving in her wake an oddly bewildered Loid Forger.

“See you, Yor.” She was already gone when Loid had uttered his goodbye’s, even when he already had entered his office in the hospital Loid still felt the effects of his hug with Yor.

He couldn’t quite stop smiling all day.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

#spy x family #sxf #twiyor #agent twilight #loid forger #yor briar #yor forger #forger family #loidyor #loiyor #sxf fanfic #spy x family fic #spy x family fluff #domestic fluff #franky franklin #anya forger #my fic #my fics #loid x yor

[callmearcturus]

*sits very quietly with tea to listen to the Jake Dissertation Presentation*

(Also for a second that text was huge so maybe tumblr is just doing something weird. Karkatifying us to yell about KTWOWL)

lmao fine, okay okay.

so Jake "Abraxas" English is maybe the most complicated character I've ever tried to write. I think in the second Dave POV chapter, someone left a comment about how Jake sounded like he was having a completely different conversation than Dave was, and I responded that yeah that's Jake 24/7. he's always on a different level than the people around him. not a higher level, but a different level.

spoilers are gonna abound below the cut

I'm gonna be annoying and kick this off with a lot of excerpts

First Intermission

"What do you want, Jake?" Dirk asked. The slow spread of his smile made heat flicker in cage of Dirk's ribs. "Everything. Everything, Dirk. What else is there to want?"

ch8: adjudication

"They are…" [Calliope] folded her hands together and leaned in, tucking her chin over them. "They seem much like a monster to me. We had hoped that when their leader retired, they would be… contained. But the bastard heir that's taken over—"

First Intermission

"This is what I made you for, Jake. Just keep in mind these things aren't done by halves. You start this ball rolling, it's not going to stop without crushing some people." "Crushing is the goal. I'm looking forward to the crushing quite a bit, honestly." He leaned over to kiss Jade's cheek. "Thank you, Gran."

ch28: An Audience in the House of Xenon

Jake didn't look up right away, staring at the little silver ball. "Might be best I never know. I put the house on red. Either I've lost the whole thing or I have more of it to look after." "Isn't that rule one? Never put yourself in a position to lose." She came into view with proximity, melting out of the shadows. Her cane tapped very quietly against the dubiously-colored carpet. "That is what I say, isn't it," Jake murmured, picking up the ball and starting it up again.

ch21: Act Three

And on her sofa was the listless fucking heir to the whole empire, reading her books and catnapping, transparently hiding from his grandmother. She allowed this, because it was her job to advise and entertain Jake English, and she was not yet in a position to kill him. That day would doubtlessly come, but it was not today.

Second Intermission

"Says the man who wants everything." "Mhm, I do. That's the worst of it, really, that I do." His smile was wry and… tired. Sleepy-eyed and steam-doused. "She was very thorough. I imagine you know the feeling." "Your grandmother?" "Oh, yes." Jake rubbed his thumb over Dirk's knuckles. "I always fancied myself something of an engineer myself, so I certainly admire her work." "Her work being… you."

coda: mixtape for the rest of your life

"You freak out too?" "More often when I was younger." Jake clasped his hands together. "I've always hated loud noises, though that's faded a bit. Gran dragged me to the shooting range until I got a handle on it." Dave's brow furrowed. "Sounds like ssssome shitty exposure therapy." Jake only shrugged, his smile getting rueful. "It worked. She's always been an efficient sort. From what I've wringed out of Dirk, your father was a similar sort."

ch28: An Audience in the House of Xenon

"There is no backup for you, Jake," Jade told him. Which was something of a surprise to hear. He always imagined she had another stashed away just in case. He was not convinced he was the first one. Once, Rose had snippily asked if Jake had been grown in a vat for just this purpose, his purpose. He had smiled but had not laughed. "Que sera sera." He held the marble between two fingers. In it, the world was inverted.

I'm trying to figure out where to start here.

Paya made this terrible and amazing joke about KTOWL, basically how the Striders were from the puppy mill while Jake was a showdog, and it's such a good way to draw a contrast. The Striders were disposable little weregild-weights for their father to use. But Jake.... Jake was a project.

And Jake is hyper-aware of that. He knows he was engineered. Jade needed someone who could take over Abraxas and stand a chance against the High Table, and Jake had certain natural talents that fit the bill. But he was once just a kid living on his family's island (allegedly) before Jade picked him for the task.

The result was someone who was so devoted to the concept of Abraxas, he has neon in his skin, who is spoken of as synonymous with the outfit, and who well-embodies a monstrous avatar.

Dirk fucking hates his father for everything he did to his kids. Jake talks pretty openly about his grandmother's work, and often admiringly... but not the admiring of a grandson to a parent, but one engineer to another. He knows what was done to create him was... not good, but the resentment and ire is gone from him, the only remnant lingering is the fact that Jake doesn't go to Jade, she goes to him, and when he's able to, he goes and hides from Jade.

If you are going to create someone like Jake, one of the most important things is to ensure they won't turn on you. And Jake will never turn on his grandmother and even does well playing* the doting grandson, seeking her direction.

*Is it playing? Is it performance? Hm.

Jake is someone who sees the potential around him. He knows he can guide Karkat into doing 'good', he sees in Dirk a core that he wants to unearth and rebuild. He even knows that Dave would be a soft power king if he was on the board. But Jake isn't going to try and engineer Dave into anything. He'd much rather fawn over him and keep him well-fucking-away from the actual things Abraxas does.

So here is a thought to consider with Jake. With all this tacit evidence that something horrible was done to him to make him into Abraxas, does he hate his grandmother? Better question: does Jake have the capacity to hate her?

Nope.

I've talked a lot about how Jake sees in Dirk something far underneath his surface, his heart and soul subsumed under layers on concrete, and Jake wants very much to excavate Dirk and to help him become himself again. He pokes and prod Dirk, challenges him, annoys the fuck out of him, all to get that rise, to dust off the silt and rocks, to unearth who the fuck Dirk is under it all.

But with Jake, there is nothing to excavate. If you dig down, you will not find the original Jake English, the teenager on the island that Jade picked out. He is alchemized. Instead, Jake is just a performer. Rose points this out angrily to him, asking why he conceals his intelligence, and Jake treats it (everything) like a game.

Jake is not a good guy, but he cares about specific people. He loves Rose, and sees that she needs someone to be her irritating brother, so he provides that with great enjoyment. With Dirk in his hands, he'll do the same, and to a more subtle degree, he'll guide Karkat.

He would not visit the same fate he endured on someone else.

But also, it cannot be forgotten: Jake's sense of morality is basically non-existent. He thinks in rules, in fair play, in moves. He has internal logic he follows.

.... Does any of this make sense? Jake is the hardest to talk about, I think, because I feel it all emotionally more than anything. He's a charming neon avatar who wants to have it all and is worryingly good at getting it. He is incapable of being upset about being made into a monster, but curiously does not want to inflict the same on anyone else. Isn't that interesting.

If you can't feel anger for what's been done to you, how do you get revenge?

Probably collect a lot of lovely birds and a handsome dancer, and give them what they need, as determined by your nigh-psychic understanding of people.

Anyway. That's Jake. My beloved horny freak, my darling teetotal pharmacist, my maverick showboating flash bastard. /jazzhands

#arquiving #swdktowl #long post