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robindrake93 · 3 years

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Kavinsky’s relationship with Ronan is so interesting when looked at from Kavinsky’s POV.

Kavinsky was skulking about Monmouth for Ronan before he knew that Ronan was a dreamer, which meant that he had some interest in Ronan as a person (which we know doesn’t happen because the dream pack and his family are...dreams). Kavinsky then finds out that Ronan is like him. They’re the same. They’re dreamers and Kavinsky has never met another one in the world. He went from being alone to being one of two. His whole world changed again.

Kavinsky spends like a year trying to tease the confession out of Ronan. Ronan is really only interested in finding the bottom of a bottle with Kavinsky (and racing and fighting with him). Kavinsky is the window in which Ronan’s bird tries to fly into repeatedly and violently. We can assume Kavinsky was met with failure because The Dream Thieves happens.

Kavinsky flirts and he insults in the same breath because he is the instrument that Ronan loves to hurt himself on (and he’s not a stupid boy who can’t read the fucking room - Gansey has a literal collar for Ronan; K isn’t pulling Gansey’s Dog from his ass). But Kavinsky isn’t the only one with sharp, cutting edges and Ronan (intentionally and otherwise) hurts Kavinsky too.

So time passes and Ronan is the same as he’s always been and Kavinsky gets impatient and desperate. He dreams Ronan’s leather bracelets, punctured with teeth marks like the ones in reality, the details noted carefully and lovingly.

“I know you” is what the gift says. “I know you’re a dreamer and I know you chew your bracelets when you’re unhappy and I’ve been paying attention because I care. Look.” Kavinsky leaves.

The next time they see each other, Ronan tosses him a pair of sunglasses. The ones that Kavinsky wears regularly. This is the acknowledgment, the “I know you too.” Except the tint is off, the lenses are slightly wrong (and oh I bet that haunts Kavinsky later, this tiny sign that Ronan isn’t as into Kavinsky as Kavinsky is him). But still. The fact that the sunglasses exist says that Ronan is accepting the gift, he’s returning it, and he’s trying. Which is more than Kavinsky got out of him before.

Things happen fast after that.

Because they’ve always shared dreams and been aware that they were sharing when Ronan dreams of Kavinsky, I’m assuming that the first one - the sex dream - featured a real Kavinsky (although I don’t think Ronan knew). Kavinsky falls asleep and into a dream where he’s fucking Ronan against the hood of a car. This isn’t Kavinsky’s dream, either. It’s Ronan’s. Ronan who controls his dreams. To Kavinsky, this has to seem like a sign that Ronan is very into him.

They’re both dreamers. Kavinsky lives surrounded by dream people and dream objects...why couldn’t they take a dream relationship to reality with them?

Ronan crashes Gansey’s car because of the night horror and Kavinsky shows up to save his life. Ronan’s life is valuable. Except Ronan isn’t grateful, he’s freaking out for no reason over the car. And there’s a moment where Kavinsky literally does not understand what the big deal is; Ronan can just dream a new one. It’s easy. He mentions that Ronan might have a head injury because he doesn’t know that Ronan doesn’t know Kavinsky is a dreamer.

But Kavinsky is going to take care of this and his stupid idiot boyfriend (what else would Ronan be? They courted, they fucked, dreams are reality). Kavinsky flirts on the drive over and Ronan sulks and Kavinsky says in words what he’s been saying in actions; I know what you are, you’re just like me.

Kavinsky is no ones dog. He doesn’t have a Gansey to distract him from his life. He lives with reminders of how bad life is and he’s an addict in a downward spiral. So the process of dreaming is something Kavinsky has had ample time and privacy to streamline.

Ronan doesn’t make cars because he’s keeping himself secret. By showing him the cars and that it’s even possible, Kavinsky says, “we don’t have to be a secret. You don’t have to limit and twist yourself into a tiny box. The world is literally ours.”

I’m not sure how they went from ‘let’s dream a new car’ to ‘let’s get drunk’ and can only assume that it was old habit to drink in each other’s presence but there’s a time skip where we next hear from them via Gansey. More specifically, via Kavinsky being at once jealous over Gansey (probably) being in a relationship with Ronan and where he both reassures Gansey and rips off the bandaid about the car. Kavinsky sends Gansey a dick pic with an Irish flag tied to his erection, a roundabout way of saying that Ronan’s already ridden his dick.

Kavinsky takes Ronan home after the field, they (or at least Ronan) drink alcohol and Kavinsky puts on a racing movie. Kavinsky texts Gansey his dick pick and the news about the car, and he’s not even next to Ronan. He’s giving Ronan space. I’d say the phone thing was invading Ronan’s privacy but Ronan doesn’t use his phone so...there’s nothing there to invade. When Ronan wakes up, Kavinsky tries to start a conversation. And it’s a pretty normal conversation; you handle your liquor well, oh hey you aren’t responding are you okay, wait you inherited dreaming from your dad?

Ronan leaves the room. He’s not very talkative. This probably isn’t going how Kavinsky imagined it would. Again, Kavinsky is an addict and his boyfriend is being more prickly than usual so he gets high. Kavinsky makes a joke instead of confessing to texting Gansey what was basically a “he wants me more than you” text. And Ronan responds with violence. Which Kavinsky points out and his only option is to lay his cards on the table. Kavinsky doesn’t want to play chase, he wants this thing between them to settle. So he spills that he saw Ronan dream the blood and he knew.

And all Ronan asks is how he did it. His hackles have finally soothed. Kavinsky almost literally jumps on the chance to teach Ronan and spend more time in his company; the company of someone like him in all the ways that matter.

There’s more beer to entice Ronan to stay, a little extra incentive to spend time with Kavinsky. Ronan’s first attempts aren’t interesting for someone who’s house is full of one trick magical dream items. Like I said above, Kavinsky has the dreaming process streamlined. He takes his pill, he gets what he wants from his dream and he dies for this. His heart stops for a few seconds. We don’t know if Kavinsky takes the pills to dream every time or if it’s just to make this fast and easy for Ronan’s training. If he does it’s because he’s suicidal, and if he doesn’t then it’s because he’s at the point that he’ll die for Ronan.

What does Kavinsky bring back? Something boring, like Ronan’s dream thing, but it’s complimentary. The cap to Ronan’s pen, the missing piece, that fits and matches perfectly. Which is what Kavinsky thinks they are to each other.

Kavinsky gets his jealous dig in about Gansey’s relationship with Ronan, which makes Ronan almost leave. This time, when Ronan tells Kavinsky to back off about Gansey, Kavinsky does. Because he wants Ronan to stay and he knows Ronan has a temper. Back to the safe stuff, to training, and this time when they dream together it’s intentional.

And when they get back? Ronan is still and he doesn’t react when Kavinsky touches him but he does open his hand when asked what he has. He laughs at Kavinsky’s joke, which doesn’t insult Gansey or insinuate that they’re in a relationship. Ronan laughs, a good sign, the best sign, and Kavinsky flirts. They open up a little, the first time that Ronan has shown any interest in Kavinsky’s home life, and then it’s back to dreaming together.

When Ronan dreams back a lit bomb, Kavinsky saves their lives by throwing it out the window before it explodes. They talk civilly and Kavinsky offers Ronan some cocaine; both to help him dream and because people who do cocaine just like to share with their friends and romantic partners (not diving deeper into this but trust me, it’s a thing).

They’re together so long that days have gone by. This is the first time that they aren’t fighting and antagonizing each other. It’s just dreams and each other. There’s still beer and cocaine because they’re addicts who are hurting, but they’re both comfortable with it. Ronan gifts Kavinsky with a twizzler, which Kavinsky takes because he loves Ronan.

Kavinsky thinks Ronan’s ready for the Camaro but gets angry when he realizes Ronan still doesn’t get how to dream. Ronan gets angry too, takes his failure out on Kavinsky because he just doesn’t get it. And Kavinsky points out how he’s been practicing.

So two things happen next. Ronan says he can’t go back without the car, to which Kavinsky replies to the effect of “then don’t.” He’s asking Ronan to stay with him. And Ronan replies that he’s going to try again, he’s going to dream with Kavinsky again, he’s staying. And that’s all that Kavinsky hears, he doesn’t realize that Ronan meant he was getting the car back so that he could leave.

A new pill comes out, one that keeps Ronan in his body but kicks his mind out. This is a pill that Kavinsky has tested before (once resulting in a girl overdosing) but now he’s got it perfected; this isn’t supposed to hurt Ronan. And Kavinsky re-enacts their first shared dream; Ronan against the hood, Kavinsky pressed up behind him, tracing the tattoo. They’ve already been here before.

But Ronan is gone, back to dreams, and when he comes to, he’s done it. He’s brought back the Camaro and it is perfect. Ronan’s success is Kavinsky’s success (which I’m sure he attributes to his magic dick and phenomenal teaching skills). They are perfect. This is a perfect moment for Kavinsky, a shining moment.

And Ronan crushes it immediately by telling him that actually he’s going back to Gansey; that he wasn’t going to stay. Kavinsky is so surprised that he stands in blank shock. Whatever defensive shields he has slam into place, a wall between himself and his boyfriend who refuses to stay. He can’t believe it.

Ronan mocks Kavinsky for thinking that they’d stay together and that this strengthened anything between them. But Kavinsky still tries to change Ronan’s mind by telling him he doesn’t need Gansey. And then Ronan breaks up with him. Ronan basically says that Kavinsky was nothing at all and he didn’t care about him.

Kavinsky is heartbroken. He says he’ll burn Ronan. He’s a jilted lover, spurned and ashamed and hurt. Ronan is leaving him. Kavinsky puts his finger gun to Ronan’s temple - one last touch - and says he’ll see Ronan later. The exact verbiage is “in the streets”, which might be a joke from Maggie about how they’re no longer seeing each other in the sheets.

But he doesn’t burn Ronan right away. He dreams him a car and lets Ronan know that he’s still jealous over Gansey.

The car gets no reaction and Kavinsky escalates in his attempts to Ronan’s attention. I don’t know how Kavinsky convinces himself that kidnapping Matthew was a good idea. But I want to know if it was before or after he realized that Matthew is a dream thing. When Kavinsky kidnaps Matthew? I bet he didn’t even have to resort to force. Just “hey kid, I’m Ronan’s friend, wanna get a milkshake?”

And he’d take Matthew to get a milkshake and sit in the booth opposite him and drill him with questions. And come to realize that Ronan dreamed him. Now that Kavinsky is actually looking at Matthew, he sees the signs of a dream thing; knows Ronan’s dreams intimately enough to recognize his handiwork. Kavinsky lives with dream things that are so real that no one can tell the difference. And Ronan did a really shitty job making Matthew. The kid has zero personality. He’s essentially a mirror: if K mentions he likes something then Matthew starts talking about it and he copies body language and speech patterns. He wasn’t just made to like people, he was made to be liked. (This was based off the snippet of CDH that was released and I don’t know if later installments negate any of this).

So if Kavinsky hands him a pill and says “swallow this” then Matthew does it and that’s how Kavinsky gets him into the trunk. He literally just asked. It’s that easy because Matthew was made by a child who had extremely base desires...who is very bad at realism.

Kavinsky sends Ronan texts from both his own phone and Matthew’s phone. This is what got Ronan’s attention; he calls. He’s never called Kavinsky before in his life, has never even texted him back before. So this is huge.

It’s important to note here than Kavinsky has replaced real life people with dreams and that he has to practice to get good at making something(one). People are replaceable. Dreams even more so. Matthew is barely a person, he’s a bad creation, and he’s replaceable. This is the key factor; Mathew can be redreamed. If something happens to this Matthew - like an explosion, say - then Ronan can always dream a new, better one. Kavinsky can help him. The point being that this is not actually a high stakes move for Kavinsky. This is breaking Ronan’s toy with the intent of gaining Ronan‘a attention and promising to buy him a new one (a better one, even).

When Ronan threatens Kavinsky on the phone, it’s nothing. Ronan has threatened violence before and it’s only fair for Ronan to make the same threats Kavinsky did. The important, takeaway is that Ronan is coming to see Kavinsky.

At the Fourth of July party, Kavinsky makes an entrance. He wants Ronan to see that he’s fine without him, better in fact.

But Ronan brought Gansey. And Kavinsky cannot resist a jab at Gansey, whom he feels stole his other half. He tells Gansey that he hopes Ronan can’t get it up for him. Ronan attacks him, demanding his dream brother back.

Kavinsky says he doesn’t know. This may or may not be a lie. Kavinsky brings up their relationship again, because that’s what this is about. He says, again, “I can’t believe you left me.” When this doesn’t get through to Ronan, Kavinsky asks Ronan to dream with him.

Ronan does.

Kavinsky is being attacked but Ronan came. He flirts, using a line he’s used before.

And it doesn’t work.

Kavinsky is being attacked by the forest and he tells Ronan that sometimes you have to take what you want; asking again if Ronan wants him, telling him that Ronan doesn’t need to ask before he takes Kavinsky. Again, he bears his heart to Ronan. He’s saying that Ronan is all he has because Ronan is so irreversibly tied to dreaming, dreaming is the only thing there is. Kavinsky says that if Ronan stays in the relationship, they’ll have each other.

Ronan tells him that it’s not enough, that Kavinsky is not enough. Here, Kavinsky begs that it’s not because of Gansey, that Gansey isn’t better than him. And then it comes out that Ronan would rather have a straight man than Kavinsky. A straight man who isn’t a dreamer.

Ronan says that there’s more to life and Kavinsky says that it isn’t true. Ronan says cars, sex, and drugs but he’s also talking about dreaming and that’s how Kavinsky takes it. Everything and a large portion of the people in Kavinsky’s life are dreams. He has no reason to think he won’t be continually replacing people and objects with dream copies. This is his whole life, it’s all he has, he’s made it from nothing. And this is when Kavinsky realizes that Ronan really doesn’t feel the same and isn’t going to return his feelings.

Kavinsky loses the will to live because he’d hinged everything on Ronan. Without Ronan, Kavinsky didn’t want to live. The last little thing he had in his life that was an equal, snuffed out Kavinsky’s flame. So Kavinsky summons a creature that’s essentially his heartbreak; not just this one but every heartbreak and all of his self loathing. This creature hates Kavinsky as much as it hates the rest of the world because it’s Kavinsky’s feelings manifested.

Kavinsky has escalated again. Now he’s threatening to kill himself. He looks Ronan in the eye and asks Ronan to stop him.

Ronan brings back an albino night horror. It fights with Kavinsky’s fire dragon and both boys just watch it. This is so interesting because Ronan’s only reaction is to tell Kavinsky to stop feeling. Stop having feelings for me. Kavinsky says that he can’t. Again, the dragon and the night horror are manifestations of Kavinsky and Ronan’s feelings; they’re metaphors come to life.

Ronan is still focused on his brother, though. Kavinsky even tells him that he’s missing the point of all this, which was to sort through their feelings (or fight through them like the dragon and horror were doing). Ronan finds Matthew, mildly drugged but fine and about to free himself anyway. And Kavinsky finally sees that Ronan really doesn’t care. So he stays in the path of their monstrous, overwhelming feelings made real and ignores Ronan’s pleas for him to get down because he knows Ronan will say whatever he needs to get Kavinsky to do what he wants.

And Kavinsky dies in flame, death via broken heart.

#rovinsky #ronan lynch #joseph kavinsky #the raven cycle #trc #the dream thieves #long post #I wrote this based on memory #and I haven’t read the dreamer trilogy #except the first little snippet of call down the hawk #so maybe something else has happened #to make something wrong #Idk or c

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takesomet · 3 years

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The Gift */F (NSFW. Remote tickling and edging)

He was going away again. A week this time. She understood of course but it was becoming more frequent. It paid the bills but she knew how much she was going to miss him. Their marriage wasn't in doubt but it was missing the intamcy they had once enjoyed. She just wanted him. She wanted everything about him. She still remembers the date where he confessed about his ‘weird’ kinks. That was the day she knew she was going to marry him.

He had kissed her goodbye in a way that made her a tingle from head to toe. He would be back soon, he said. He would make it up to her. He promised. She waved the car goodbye and sighed. A week was too long. At least she had work to kill the time. She remembered the first time they slept together after he revealed his kinks. How he hungered for her feet and how he tickled her toes. God. She loved him so much.

After coffee she went into the bedroom to get ready. She didn't even see it at first, her mind was so preoccupied on how long this week would be. She first saw it in her mirror. A white box with a pink bow was laid out on the bed. Attached with tape was a note:

My dearest Georgia,

I am so sorry that i’m leaving you again. Please know that what I do is for the benefit of everyone and for us. Still, I will miss you so much. To say sorry I have left you a gift. The boys at RnD think this could be the future. I want you to wear it today at work.

I love you.

Opening the box she wondered what on earth could be inside, Her husband worked in tech ‘focussing on nano elements’ whatever that meant. What she found was not what she expected. Black lingerie. Black slick panties, black bra and matching stockings and suspenders. I mean they were very nice. Just not what she expected. She re-read the letter, she searched the box, that was it. Well they were gorgeous. She put them on, fitted better than she thought, and they felt amazing. She looked at herself in the mirror. The lingerie added to her beautiful frame. Buxom and auburn haired and she looked like a temptress. She needed to move quickly or she would be late. She found a nice dress and heels and headed up to work.

Work wasn’t too exciting, a lot of paperwork, a lot of sitting and some gossiping with her colleagues. She shared a department with 12 other workers. Each had a desk that looked out a window. It was nice enough but today work was slow. Her phone buzzed.

Hubby:

ARE YOU AT WORK?

Me:

YEAH. SLOW DAY HAHA

Hubby:

YOU WEARING MY GIFT?

Me:

YEAH. DIDN’T EXPECT THAT. YOU’RE CUTE.

Hubby:

JUST YOU WAIT…

Me:

HUH?

No reply.

She thought nothing of it and continued working. And then it started. A gentle buzz, at her soles.

‘What the?’

The stockings on her soles had started to lightly buzz. She stifled a giggle. She looked at her shoes. Nothing out of the ordinary. The buzzing continued, her feet were so sensitive! She bit her lip, frantically she kicked off her shoes. There was nothing on her feet other than the stockings. The buzzing still going.

‘mmmhahhehemmmm’

‘Everything ok Georgia?’ Someone piped up.

‘Imhehehe fine.’ She quickly replied.

Her phone now buzzed. She picked it up.

Hubby:

SUPRISE :)

Me:

WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?

Hubby:

I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, I GAVE YOU SOME OF THE LATEST IN NANITE TECHNOLOGY :)

Me:

WHAT?!

Hubby:

THE GUYS TELL ME THAT YOU SHOULD BE FEELING LIKE A VIBRATION, OR A BUZZING SENSATION. THE CLOTHES YOU ARE WEARING HAVE TINY NANITES IN THEM. THEY ARE CONTROLLED REMOTELY BY ME. THEY EMIT PULSES AND CHARGE ANYWHERE I SEND THEM. WHICH KNOWING HOW SENSITIVE YOU ARE SHOULD BE PRETTY UNBEARABLE FOR YOU.

She could feel the sensations move around het sole. She kept her feet soft and pampered, just the way he liked, and now he was using this sensitivity against her. It tickled so bad.

Me:

BUT DARLIN’ IM AT WORK!

Hubby:

I KNOW. I LOVE YOU.

The buzzing lept and crawled all over my bare feet. She tried to scrunch my soles on the carpet but it was no use. It was like having tickly ants crawl all over my feet. They had begun to work their magic on my toes now. She was shaking.

‘muhhhmmmmmmmhhhemmm’

‘Are you sure you’re all right Georgia’ another colleague asked.

‘HMhhhhmmm im finnneee. Just haheread a funny joke ahhe.’ she replied.

‘oh ok…’ came the response. It was probably best to leave her alone.

Get a hold of yourself Georgia, she tried to reason with herself. It’s just a little tickling, calm down. But it wasn’t just a little tickling. It was a lot. Both her soles were being tickled mercilessly, mechanically by her husband abroad. They buzzed and they tickled up and down her soft feet and her toes wriggled in frustration as they couldn’t escape their torment.

Suddenly the sensation stopped. She breathed deep. Maybe the batteries had run out? No such luck. She felt a jolt on her nipples. She actually squeaked. More concerned looks from her colleagues. The bra was full of nanites too! She felt the tickles go all around her full breasts, moving and buzzing. Her nipples stiffened in response and buried themselves in the fabric. This left them exposed for tickles. She gasped again and covered her mouth. She wanted to scream. Her face was now a deep crimson. Her tits were exploited. She stamped her feet. She had to hold it in.

Hubby:

HOW’S IT GOING

Me:

FUCKING PLEASE STOP I’M AT WORK PLEASE

Hubby:

I KNOW, I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU GIGGLE IN FRONT OF ALL THOSE PEOPLE. SUCH A NAUGHTY SLUT

Me:

PLEASSSEDDES

Her tits were being played with so expertly. Tickles all around her globes, her nipples ached for more and more they got. The nanites knew every spot and they exploited it. SHe was a mess, sweating and gasping. If anyone came past her cubicle she would be doomed.

The buzzing eased off and then stopped completely. She panted hard. Surely he was done. Her phone lit up.

Hubby:

READY FOR THE MAIN COURSE?

Me:

WTF?! PLEASE NO

Almost immediately she felt it. Her panties came aline. Tickles and vibrations all over her sensitive womanhood. Her pussy lips were stroked and teased. She felt the vibrations move up and down her cunt. Her ass was toyed with too. Every part of her skin that touched the silken panty was teased and tickled. Her clit was erect and wanting, the nanites found it and went to work. They smothered it in teasing tickles, stroking it and coaxing it more. It responded by getting bigger. She almost screamed. Her phone buzzed.

Hubby:

GO TO THE BATHROOM

She leapt up and nearly ran. The pussy tickles didn’t stop. She must of looked drunk. She hurried in and locked the door. She squatted.

ME:

IM HERrre

Hubby:

GOOD.

All three spots now kicked into life. her feet were stroked and tickled. Her toes tormented. She began to laugh, a long and lusty laugh. The nanites worked the backs of her legs and up her thighs. She kicked and squirmed. Her tits now we're being teased again. Her aching nipples craved more and they got more. Vibrations and tickles. It was too much but the nanites didn’t care. Her husband was so cruel. She loved him so much.

Finally her pussy was on fire. The highest setting of tease and tickle. Her clit screamed in torment and she put her hand over her mouth from doing the same. Her pussy throbbed as it was abused for her husband's remote pleasure. This drove her wild. It was sending her closer to the edge.

‘He’s not going to make me cum in here like a whore is he?’ she said to noone but her mind.

They were relentless, they were merciless, they had her gasping and screaming, Her body felt used and she loved it. The maddening tickles all over her body. She writhed and moaned and began to rip off her dress. She imagined her husband jacking off to this. She loved him so much.

She was getting closer and closer. The nanites sensed this and picked up the pace. It felt like she was going to pass out. her orgasm was building.

It hit her hard. She screamed, they continued. She thrashed, they didn’t care. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She kicked and bucked. She felt her pussy pulsate. She screamed again.

The nanites stopped.

It took her 5 minutes before she moved. She reached for her phone.

Hubby:

YOU WILL TELL THEM YOU’RE SICK. YOU WILL DRIVE HOME. YOU WILL LIE ON THE BED. AND YOU WILL NOT MOVE. UNDERSTAND?

Me:

YES.

She moved quickly. She made her excuses. They were worried about her. She assured them it was just a bug. She got into the car and she drove home.

And she had the best week of her life.

The End.

#tickle story #tickle #tickling #story

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markoslostgirl · 3 years

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𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏' 𝑼𝒑 (𝑩𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑺. 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏, 𝑬𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒆)

Requested by: @ringa-starr

Pairing: Bill S. Preston, Esquire x fem!oc

Word count: 2,110 words

Warnings: none, I think? Unless you count fluff

Summary: Bill’s girlfriend, Deidra, is sick, so Bill takes care of her

Author’s note: I feel so honored to write this for my friend, and I had a fun time writing it since we love the curly-haired angel, Bill S. Preston, Esquire. I’ve been working on this for 5-6 months, but I honestly think I could’ve done a better job with it so don’t come at me. Deidra, I hope you love it, and that you enjoy reading it. GIF isn’t mine, and it holds no significance to the imagine. I just couldn’t find one suitable.

Deidra sat up in her bed, letting out a sigh as she glanced up at the ceiling in boredom. She was sick, feeling miserable beyond compare. It wasn’t allergies, or even the flu. No, it was just a measly cold. Okay, so maybe she had made the most foolish decision of falling asleep with her hair wet while the air conditioner was running full blast.

Saturday had been a particularly hot day in San Dimas. Of course, it was always hot, but the one day on the weekend was uncomfortable. So, Deidra, her boyfriend—Bill S. Preston, Esquire—and her best friend, Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan, went to Waterloo to beat the heat.

Bill and Deidra had been dating for months now, and it had gone incredible. The first time Deidra had met Bill, she instantly became captivated by his sweet demeanor and charismatic personality. She gravitated toward him as if it were like a magnetic force pulling her in. Deidra didn’t know what it was, but there was just something about him she found so...alluring. Bill was boisterous and endearing, as well as goofy. He never failed to make her smile or laugh at his goofy jokes.

Deidra also had become entranced by the way he spoke every word with such genuine innocence, and it made her heart flutter. His beautiful, forest green eyes held such optimism, always sparkling with excitement. He had incredibly golden, curly hair, and cheeks dusted with a naturally rosy blush. His bright, cheeky grin was adorable, and it made Deidra’s soul lift up out of her body every time he flashed his Cheshire grin whenever he spoke. She was convinced he was the Greek God Apollo.

Since Deidra had been holed up in her room for days, she was about to go insane due to the palpable tediousness. While she kept herself busy watching reruns of “I love Lucy” and “The Brady Bunch”, or listening to music, she could only tolerate so much in order not to grow lack of interest.

Deidra hadn’t been able to see Bill, since she spent half of her time with him at Ted’s house watching them practice. She missed hanging out and spending time with them outside of school. The trio were a tight knit group, always together as they kicked around having the time of their lives. Other than spending time in Ted’s garage, Deidra spent the other half of her time at her house with Bill or going on dates with him on their own time. So, the time she had to stay away from him was the most heinous thing ever.

Bill was incredibly charming—always planning the most creative, romantic gestures for Deidra in his own special ways with the help of Ted, of course. It never failed to make Deidra melt at just how much of a gentleman Bill was. He always took her on cute, simple dates—whether it’s to the mall, Waterloo, or even McDonald’s. They spent time together as much as possible since they always had the most fun of times.

Deidra let out a yawn as she laid back down, stretching her aching limbs out wide at her sides. A loud sneeze erupted from her nose, causing her to groan and let her head fall back on the pillow due to the heavy weight on her head from lifting it up. She reached over and grabbed a tissue out of the box on the nightstand, blowing her nose before tossing the tissue in the small bin beside the nightstand her mom had placed there.

Deidra sniffed, staring back up at the ceiling with watery eyes as Elvis played faintly in the background. The sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, filling her with panic. Both of her parents were at work, and if they were home, they would let her know as soon as they stepped foot inside the house. All of the sudden, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway, filling her with relief.

“Greetings, my most bodacious babe Dee!” Bill exclaimed, his arms full of what appears to be food, games, and medicine. Bill had rushed over, filled with worry once he heard how sick Deidra was over the phone, and he wanted to take care of her instantly. “I brought some things I know you’d enjoy during your time of need.”

Her whole face lit up, her eyes twinkling. “Bill!” Deidra croaked, her voice raw from the amount of coughing she had been doing. “What are you doing here?” She asked. “I’m sick, which means you’re not allowed to be here,” she told him, a frown on her face.

“Dee, babe, I haven’t been able to see you for days,” Bill reminded Deidra. “I’ve really missed you, and I know you must be going insane trapped in your room. I figured I’d come cheer you up,” he admitted as he stepped inside the room.

Deidra smiled at his sweet confession. Bill always went out of his way to do things like this for the people he absolutely cared about, including Deidra and Ted. This was just the kind of guy Bill was, and it made her fall in love with him even more.

“I really appreciate it, Bill,” Deidra told bill, honesty in her voice. “I’m sick. I would hate to have you in the same situation, especially because of me. It’s most egregious,” she tried to convince him.

“I’m not going to get sick, you baby” Bill denied with a playful glare, causing Deidra to roll her eyes with a fond smile at his humor. “Just let me take care of you until you’re a hundred percent better again,” bill insisted before placing the items on the bed.

Deidra felt a stinging itch radiating from her throat, causing her to hack violently into her arm. The sensation of her throat feeling like it had been ripped to tiny shreds by a chainsaw was searing in waves of splitting pain. Once the coughing ceased, she squeezed her eyes shut as a sigh escaped past her lips.

Shrugging off his shoes in a lethargic way, Bill sat down beside Deidra, a concerned look etched on his face. He couldn’t help but notice her pale skin, the dark circles underneath her eyes, or her nose red with irritation. The look of pure misery vanished once bill placed a feathery, soft kiss on her forehead.

“Dee, you’re burning up!” Bill voiced as he pulled away, placing a cool hand on Deidra’s forehead, causing her to shiver due to how warm her body felt. Bill brushed the stray, baby hairs away from her forehead. “You stay here, babe. I’m gonna go and make you some soup,” he stood up from the bed with a smile before retreating downstairs to the kitchen.

A small grin graced Deidra’s lips, finding how adorable and sweet it was for Bill to become worried, especially whenever it came to her. Even at his own risk, Bill was a deeply compassionate person by helping when Deidra was in distress. She couldn’t help but feel naturally content, delighted, and safe in his presence.

Deidra crawled out from the warm cocoon of her bed, moving toward her record player and turning off the music of Elvis. She plopped back down on her bed and pulling back the covers closer up to her neck. It didn’t take long for Bill to finish making the soup, as he made his way back into the room, carefully holding a bowl of soup and a spoon. Deidra sniffed the air, the delicious smell of the soup wafting through her nose.

“Here you go, babe,” Bill softly spoke, carefully handing his girlfriend the bowl of hot contents and a spoon. “You need to eat a little bit so you can take your medicine.”

Deidra settled the bowl on her lap, the weight of the bowl full of soup feeling heavy in her hands. She placed one hand around the bowl, her index finger resting on the rim to keep it steady on her lap. Timidly, she took a spoonful of soup, bringing it up to her mouth and carefully blowing on it before taking a bite.

Deidra shivered at the warm feeling flowing through her body from the hot soup. Bill took his place beside her as he watched her continue to eat the soup. Noticing his beloved was almost finished, bill took the spoon and guided it to her lips.

Deidra blushed, eyeing the spoon bill was holding up to her lips. Bill often fed her from time to time, whenever they went on dates, but this time it was obviously under different circumstances. She was more vulnerable. Of course, neither of them seemed to mind, as it was a loving gesture bill did with patience.

The curly-haired angel pushed the spoon past the girl’s lips, letting her finish the last bite of soup. She leaned over, placing the bowl next to the cup of tea she had made a while ago, already sure to be cold now. Deidra glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, knowing it was time to take her medicine once again.

After she finished taking her medicine, Deidra grabbed the bottle half full of water and took a big sip of it to wash the horrid taste down. She eased herself back under the covers in order to lie down, sighing in content from the warmth the soup and the covers provided her with.

Bill outstretched his arms for Deidra to envelop herself into his embrace, causing fear to cross her face as she shook her head in protest. “Bill, no, I don’t want you to risk yourself more than you already have.”

“I don’t care,“ Bill excused. “Just let me hold you.” Deidra bored her eyes into her boyfriend, biting her lip as Bill fluttered his eyelashes with an expectant smile before shuffling closer to him and curling into his chest. He gazed into her eyes with such fondness, causing a flush to creep up her face as she knew he was thinking of her.

“I’m only doing it because you’re cute,” Deidra commented, causing bill to form a smirk on his lips once he took notice of her sticking her nose in the air.

A moment of silence passed before bill spoke up. “Do you feel a little better, Dee?” Bill asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. The warmth from the blankets combined with the heat from cuddling up to Bill enveloped her with a blanket of comfort. “Are you warm enough?”

The brown-haired girl hummed, nodding her head. “You’re soft and warm,” she murmured. “I don’t want you to move.” Bill did manage to make her feel a little better than how she was feeling before. He lifted her spirits once he showed up, so needless to say, she wasn’t feeling as miserable as she had been. “I’m so glad you came over. Any time without you is far too long.”

Her voice dripped with exhaustion from the medicine, the state of drowse sinking in as a side effect. Bill’s mouth lifted up into a smile as he played with Deidra’s hair, tracing through her long, wavy locks softly with his fingers.

“Don’t stop...” Deidra mumbled in a languid tone, causing bill to hum in question. “Your fingers in my hair,” the girl clarified. “Feels really nice...”

“You’re adorable,” Bill crooned, his mouth curving into a soft smile. “You know I’ll always be here, right?” Bill quietly vowed in a gentle tone, causing Deidra to hum in content. There were times where Bill struggled with expressing how he felt about the green-eyed girl, but they both knew he loved her so much.

As the day progressed, Bill made sure Deidra consumed her medicine regularly when she was supposed to. After watching Lady and the Tramp and playing board games, Bill and Deidra started reading together. Bill absentmindedly tangled his fingers through the dark tresses and down her back as he reads to her in a soft voice.

Bill peered down at Deidra, only to see she had dozed off once he noticed her eyelids flutter shut. The corners of his mouth twitched up as he gazed down at her, before closing the book and pulling her closer to him. He nuzzled his face into her hair, before placing a tender kiss on the crown of her head.

“I love you,” Bill whispered softly into her ear. “I hope you know this.”

“I love you, too,” Deidra declared, her voice just barely touched of a whisper. It nearly would have been too silent, yet bill had heard it loudly by the tiny grin curving on the corners of his lips. It just reminded how in love he fell with her more everyday.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

So, that’s it for this imagine! Bill is so cute, and as a Bill girl, I wish I lived in a universe where I was sick so he could take care of me! What do you think? Like I mentioned before, I really think I could have done a better job with this. I’m honored my best friend Deidra came to me to write this, and I hope I did it justice!

With love, from Audrey <3

#bill s preston esquire imagine #bill s preston esquire #bill s preston esquire x reader #bill and ted imagine #bill and ted #bill and teds excellent adventure #bill and teds bogus journey #alex winter

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

it’s always been you.

mingi x reader; friends to lovers au

word count: 10k

fluff, smut

kim hongjoong was not only the first boy you ever had a crush on, but your first bully. you remember your palms sweating and cheeks warming when the teacher assigned you the seat right in front of him. you were excited by the small and scrawny boy who exuded such natural confidence, a powerful energy surrounding him despite only being in second grade.

and apparently, you were able to sense that. or maybe it was something twisted preparing you for the journey of boys who would go on to mistreat you. because it only took 30 minutes for him to start pulling your hair, the strands resting on the top of his desk repeatedly knocking into his pencil and causing it to roll down the flat surface.

you had noticed the slight pinches and pulls but felt too scared to turn around, your tiny body and heart far too nervous to confront the boy even though he was pulling at your scalp.

every time you felt it, your eyes shot to your best friend mingi who was sat across the room.

you and him have always been attached at the hip, the children of best friend's and neighbors who made you guys do everything together since the day you were born. and it was lucky that you genuinely liked him, that you didn't just put up with his company because your parents forced you to; but truthfully, you really don't know how anyone couldn't like him. because he wasn't only one of the funniest people in your life but he was kind when it mattered most.

sure, his laugh was a little too loud and he could be clingy and sometimes he took his jokes too far. but he was always quick to throw his arms around you, squeeze you into a hug and keep you in his embrace until you accepted his sorrowful, whiny apology.

"he keeps pulling my hair," you whispered to him at lunch, ripping your peanut butter and jelly sandwich down the middle.

"what?" mingi laughs out slightly, keeping his voice quiet as he rips his ham and cheese sandwich. "did you ask him why?

"no," you squeak out, shaking your head as you take your designated half of his sandwich.

you two have been doing this since you started kindergarten, one day deciding to split your sandwiches down the middle and swap; you still firmly believe that it was because mingi was bitter over the tuna sandwich his mom had packed him meanwhile you had had a grilled cheese.

but regardless, it's something that had stuck. something that you two don't even think about anymore and just do on autopilot.

"why not?" mingi asks.

another reason your friendship worked was because whereas you've always been on the shyer, quiter side, mingi was outgoing and lively. he was able to talk to anybody, even the older kids in gym class or at recess, without a hint of nervousness or apprehension. and apparently, he was able to talk to hongjoong as well, in no way affected by the small boy passing your table who you found so intimidating.

"hey! hongjoong!"

your eyes widen, nervousness quickly morphing into anger when your best friend opens his fat mouth. you smack his arm lightly, a tiny, embarrassed squeal leaving you. "what are you doing?"

the smaller boy sends him a slightly confused smile and wave before walking passed to sit at another table. mingi looks at you with an innocent smile before a loud cackle leaves his mouth.

"you look so scared," he teases, poking your warm, pink cheek. "like the time you peed your pants on halloween."

"i did not!" you whine to him, quickly forgetting about hongjoong before eyeing mingi's juice box mischievously and snatching it away. "but you did."

your best friend's loud yelp and your giggle catch the attention of the lunch monitor, the older woman stomping over to the both of you with her arms crossed. needless to say, you two spend recess inside that day, the wet, juice stain on mingi's pants occasionally making the both of you giggle.

it takes three more days of hair pulling from hongjoong to finally get you to whip your head around at the small boy, eyes wide as you look at him.

"what?" he huffs out after a few seconds of you just staring at him.

"why are you pulling my hair?" you ask, wishing your voice didn't sound so mousy and weak.

"i'm not," he spits out, looking over your nervous, blushing face. "why is your face all red?"

"it's not," you squeak back as you shake your head, quickly turning back around as your gaze instinctively moves to mingi. he catches the exact second your face morphs into one of pain, face crumbling and a yelp of "ow!" booming through the classroom when a harsh tug stings at your scalp.

big and fast for his age, mingi is over to the desk before the teacher can make it, staring down threateningly at hongjoong who wears an equally pissed off scowl.

"don't pull her hair!"

"she's so annoying," hongjoong whines, "her long, stupid hair is always all over my desk and it won't stop knocking into my pencil!"

"that doesn't mean you have to hurt her!"

hongjoong scoffs at the tall boy standing over him and yelling, throwing you a dirty look that has mingi cleching his small fists; he doesn't like when people are mean to any of his friends but especially you.

"she's just a baby," hongjoong spits, "it wasn't even hard."

"shut up!" mingi says just as you grumble "yes it was!"

"you shut up! why are you even yelling at me?" the smaller boy asks, "is she your girlfriend?"

"no! she's my best friend, you idiot!"

the teacher finally rushes over and seperates the boys, bringing them out into the hallway. you smile with watery eyes as you hear mingi's booming voice defending you, hongjoong's higher pitched whines frequently cut off by the boy.

he stomps back in a few minutes later, his eyes meeting yours and softening when you send a smile his way. and when school gets out at 3:00, you both sit on the swings where you tell him maybe you don't have a crush on hongjoong anymore.

jung wooyoung was the new boy in 5th grade. all of the girls had fawned over him the second he walked through the door, smacking each other lightly and giggling into one another as he introduced himself; and perhaps you were one of them.

because when your teacher asked you to be the new student's tour guide/buddy for the week, you hadn't really known what to expect. but then in he walked, all friendly and bubbly with his high-pitched voice bringing a smile to your face.

you introduced yourself five minutes before lunch, going up to him to explain that you were his arranged buddy for the week.

"oh, okay!" he chirped happily, "i'm wooyoung...but i guess you already knew that."

you giggle softly, nodding your head as you take out your purple lunchbox. "i'm y/n. do you...do you wanna sit with me at lunch? you could meet my friend mingi, too."

"sure," he said happily, his wide smile causing juenvile butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

"alright, cool!"

"cool."

you smile shyly before leading the way to the cafeteria, explaining to him all about the time periods, what hot lunches were best and how there were two other classes in your grade.

you spot mingi at your usual table, sending him a wave as he looks at you and the unknown boy with a mysterious look.

"mingi! this is the new student, wooyoung. wooyoung, this is my best friend mingi."

"hey," the boy said, smiling and waving at the boy.

"hi," mingi said back, nodding his head at him. "so y/n is your tour guide for the week?"

"yeah," wooyoung says, "she's been great so far."

"just wait, she still gets lost around this school."

you roll your eyes and scoff at your friend, smacking his arm lightly before plopping down in the seat next to him and chatting more with wooyoung. you had gotten better at talking to people as you got older but still struggled sometimes, feeling anxious when there was even the briefest of pauses in coversation.

but mingi was quick to fill it, asking wooyoung all about sports he liked and video games he's played. you hit the boy when he exposes your lack of athletic ability, laughing with wooyoung as he tells him about the time you almost knocked yourself out with a basketball.

but apparently, mingi's friendliness was a little insincere. because when you were sat on your living room floor doing homework a few days later, he confessed to you that he was a little bit...suspicious of wooyoung.

"really, mingi?" you laugh out, "because he's too nice? you sound crazy."

"i'm telling you, y/n," he insists, peeking at your math homework and erasing it upon seeing you had the wrong answer. "there's something up."

"leave my work alone!" you yelp, smacking the pencil out of his hand before you shake your head at him. "and leave wooyoung alone, too, he's a nice boy."

"it's suspicous, y/n," he grumbles, "i don't trust him."

but it only causes you to roll your eyes because nothing the boy did gave any indication he was less than genuine. and it's something you remind mingi of a week later, after consistently sitting with wooyoung at lunch and getting to know him in class.

"remember when you were like 'oh no, he's way too nice, i don't trust him, blah blah blah,'" you mimic, doing a lousy imitation of his voice. he throws a stray chip at you, watching as you attempt to catch it in your mouth and chuckling when you miss it.

"just wait, y/n," mingi says warningly, narrowing his eyes at you. "just you wait."

something about his tone causes you to raise an eyebrow, turning your head to the side before you mouth falls open.

"oh, my gosh!" you squeal, "are you... jealous?" you've never seen the boy's cheeks turn as red as they did upon you saying that.

"jealous?" he yelps, "no! of course not! what the hell would i be jealous of?"

"you don't want him to replace your spot as my best friend!" you reply adamantly, the giggle bubbling out of you causing your head to tilt back. "oh, my gosh, i totally get it now."

"now you're the one sounding crazy," mingi grumbles, shaking his head as he feels his cheeks continue to grow warm.

but you can only giggle again, crawling over to the boy with a teasing smile. "you don't have to worry, mingi," you tell him, pinching his cheek lightly, "you'll always be my best friend."

"i wasn't worried," he says dryly, pushing your shoulder lightly as you fall back with a squeal. "because who else would put up with you?"

"i'm sure wooyoung would," you tease, sticking your tongue out and smiling when you see an annoyed expression cover his face.

"just kidding!"

and thank god you said that. because you would've ended up looking like quite the fool. you walked into class monday morning excited to talk to your new friend, ask him all about his weekend and tell him about the new board game you got.

but the second you spotted him, you saw him talking to hongjoong, the boy you still haven't quite forgiven for his second grade antics. but you didn't think too much of it, shrugging it off and making your way to your seat to talk to the small group of girls you're close to.

but then when you went to get your lunch, you saw him come up next to you and brightly smiled at him.

"hi wooyoung! are you ready for lunch?

"hey, y/n," he said quietly. you noticed the solemn look on his face and furrowed your eyebrows, not used to seeing him lacking a bright smile or lit up eyes.

"are you okay?"

he looks back at hongjoong and the rest of the boys who are standing around the his desk awaitingly before turning back to you.

"yeah, i'm good," he says, "i just....i wanted to tell you i'm gonna sit with hongjoong at lunch today." your eyes filter across the room to see the group of boys now staring at both of you.

oh," you say, feeling just a little disheartened; you felt excited to talk to him after the weekend, gaining quite a soft spot for the boy after these past two weeks of becoming friends.

"i'm sorry," he winces, "they asked me before and i don't wanna-"

"it's okay," you giggle out suddenly, feeling silly for feeling upset in the first place. he's new and doesn't know anybody, obviously he was gonna be making more friends. "maybe we'll talk tomorrow?"

and you should've known by the half-hearted way he nodded at you that you wouldn't. that everytime you walked into the classroom and looked at him, only a small smile would be sent your way. that he now got his lunch before the teacher announced lunch time, successfully avoiding you and the need to have a conversation.

"i just don't get it," you mumble to mingi a few days later in the cafeteria. "why doesn't he wanna be friends anymore?"

mingi's cold gaze travels to wooyoung who has now seemed to become a permanent member of hongjoong's clan, narrowing his eyes at the boy in question when their eyes meet.

"i don't know," mingi mumbles, "boys are stupid."

you shake your head as a small giggle leaves your mouth at his comment. "but you're a boy, mingi."

"exactly, that's how i know," he teases, ripping his sandwich before assessing both halves. "here."

you try to hide your smile when you notice he's holding out the bigger piece, thanking him quietly and your fingers graze lightly as you take it. you munch on a few bites in a comfortable silence, the noisy chatter of other students surrounding both of you until mingi blurts out:

"you'll always be my best friend, too, y/n."

a wide smile covers your face immediately, the tugging feeling in your chest something you're still quite too young and naive to understand. but anyone around you can see it, the way your smiles brighten and eyes twinkle when you look at each other.

"i know, mingi," you say softly, hitting his foot with yours lightly under the table and giggling when he does it back. "because who else would put up with you?"

choi jongho was the youngest boy you ever had a crush on, noticing the cute sixth-grader at recess while you and your seventh-grade friends sat on the steps and watched.

"do you guys think he's cute?" one of your friends asked curiously; she had been watching the boys play kickball for the past 20 minutes.

"who? that sixth-grader?" your other friend said, eyeing the girl next to her like she just asked if she'd eat dirt.

"yeah," she says with shrug.

"that's so gross of you, why would you even care about a stupid sixth-grader."

you resist the urge to snort at her, watching as the boy kicks the ball and makes it go flying. he quickly makes his way around all the bases, his team cheering when he dramatically slides back to home.

"you know, that was just us last year," you point out to her, removing your gaze from the boy and looking at her face still full of distaste.

"oh god. so what, you think he's cute, too?"

"i mean, i guess..." you say, eyeing your other friend who gives you an affirming nod as you resist the urge to giggle.

and then your crush is basically confirmed by the next day at the end of recess. because the girls had been able to snag the last kickball, happily running to the field before you heard a male voice speak behind you.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" the voice says cooly and calmly, "maybe boys versus girls?"

you turn around to see him and he was even cuter up close, not too much taller than you but definietly bigger for his age. you can only find it in yourself to stupidily nod before attempting to snap yourself out of it.

"su-sure! let's go!"

mingi watches the field from his spot on the monkey bars where he consistently spends his time. you couldn't pay him enough money to play tag or chase a ball around, much preferring to chat with his friend while lounging in the sun.

he watches you with a smirk as you try your best to play, because he knows you really are trying. but once you miss the ball not only once but twice and then start hobbling your way over to the base, he bursts into laughter.

his eyes squint to see you in the distance looking over at the boy guarding first base. he's able to tell immediately that you like him, your shy smile and the way you quickly look away when he feels your obvious stare a dead give away.

"don't tell me you like that little sixth-grader," is the first thing mingi says to you as you guys line up to go back inside.

"what! who!" you yelp out, looking at your friend with a confused expression. but he knows you're feigning it, knows you know exactly who he's talking about.

"hey, you," mingi says to your friend who stood a few feet away from you. "who was the boy guarding first base?"

"the cute sixth-grader?" she says, a small huff leaving your mouth because now you know you're busted. "i think his name is jongho."

"jongho," mingi says as he turns to you. "please don't tell me you like jongho."

"oh, just shut up!" you say, pushing him forward as the line starts moving. his laugh rings through the fleeting outside air, shaking his head as turns around to start walking backwards.

"a younger boy?" mingi teases as he looks down at you, "c'mon, now, y/n."

"what's wrong with sixth-graders?!" you squeal, "we were in sixth-grade literally three months ago!"

"okay but now we're in seventh-grade," he says and a part of you hopes he stumbles over his feet, just a little. "you can't be crushing on little boys."

"i only see one little boy here," you spit, squinting your eyes at him and disregarding the fact that this boy has towered over you since the age of one.

"yeah, right," he quips with a roll of his eyes, turning around and laughing when he feels you smack his back lightly.

mingi and your friends tease you about your little crush on jongho for weeks, in disbelief that you'd even give the boy the time of day. but it's not like you even talk to him that much, only words in passing on the kickball field and at recess.

which is why it's incredibly embarrassing when your friend, in an effort to tease you, asks jongho to help you practice your kicking technique, insisting you need the extra assistance but are too shy to ask on your own.

"sure," he says with a shrug of his shoulders but your reddening cheeks and sweaty palms were hoping he'd say differently.

"no!" you squeak, "please, you don't have to! that's not-"

"it's fine," he chuckles out as he stands next to you. he makes your friend roll the ball to him, instructing you on the proper way to time it and then how to apply the right amount of strength.

mingi had noticed from his spot on the monkey bars and immediately had to jump down and make his way over; a front row seat to watching you interact with a boy you liked was something he couldn't miss.

"i noticed you seem to look scared of the ball," the boy says to you, a small grin on his face. "but there's no reason to be."

"i know.... but sometimes it just looks...fast," you say sheepishly and he chuckles at the shyness in your tone. the boy's about to respond when your friend, whose really not been acting like a good one lately, squeals about what a cute couple you'd make.

your face pales as you look at her with wide eyes, gaze nervously switching between her and the slightly stiff boy next to you.

"uhh..." jongho mutters, side-eyeing you before looking at your friend.

"what, you don't think?" she squeaks with a turn of her head and it causes mingi's blood to boil; he's never liked her and now he knows he's had good reason.

yours and jongho's discomfort is obvious, shoulders squared and eyes flickering nervously.

"uh...aren't you guys older than me?" he asks quietly. "that'd be kind of...weird."

your face flames even more, pressing your lips together into a tight line so you don't scream at her or start crying. but then you feel a familiar presence at your side, mingi's tall figure wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"more weird than a girl wearing a tank top over a long-sleeved shirt?" mingi quips, eyeing your friend's questionable outfit as her face twistes into one of shock and annoyance. "i don't think so."

jongho bursts out laughing, snorting into his hand before the familiar blow of a whistle rings through the air. "i'll see you guys tomorrow!" he says, turning to wave at you before making his way towards the buliding.

mingi and your friend have a bit of a staredown, your own hurt gaze roaming over your friend before the tall boy next to you speaks.

"let's go, y/n," he says, keeping his arm tight around you as he drags you off the field. you turn your head slightly to groan into him in embarrassment, his soft chuckle right below your ear.

"don't say a word."

"wasn't planning on it, grandma," he teases, fully accepting the hard slap that lands on his stomach.

kang yeosang was the first boy you "talked" to, the exciting but nervewrecking feeling of texting a boy into the night while claiming not to be tired at all. because you just don't wanna stop talking to him, giggling to yourself when he sends you a string of playful emojis and then squealing at the message that just pinged through.

but it's quickly cut off by mingi's whines.

"can you shut up already and stop texting him?" he rolls over in his sleeping bag, staring at you through sleepy eyes. he knew ninth grade was gonna bring dating and romance but he had no idea it'd be so damn annoying and start impacting his sleep at your friday night slumber parties.

"he asked me on a date!"

"at 1:00 in the morning?" he asks grouchily, voice deep from tiredness.

"no, silly," you say, rolling over to ruffle is bedhead. "for tomorrow night. we're gonna meet at the movie theater."

mingi hums lowly, a sinking feeling in his stomach already. and it's like you can feel it yourself, groaning lightly when you see his face.

"what?"

"nothing," he says, "he's just kind of douchey."

"you have no right to judge with some of the girls you associate with," you retort, wanting to roll your eyes and scoff just thinking about the little clan that surrounds mingi after basketball games or before class.

"i know, the one i'm with right now is dreadful," he says, smirking when you narrow your eyes at him. "kidding."

your phone pings with two more vibrations and mingi lets out a groan, rolling his eyes when he sees you quickly reach for your phone. your face flushes looking at his teasing expression, sticking your tongue out again before flipping over on your blanket.

"mind your business!"

when you and mingi wake the next morning, he attempts to calm your nerves. talking you off the ledge multiple times from telling yeosang you've fallen horribly ill or have to go visit your great aunt.

"why would you even say great aunt? why just not like...an okay aunt? a good aunt, even. but great?" mingi questions as he's laid out on your bed, watching you flip through the clothes in your closet.

and despite the nervosness fluttering through your stomach, you find yourself able to laugh at your friend, turning around to shake your head at him.

"you're so dumb."

"and so are you for being nervous," he says, getting up and walking over to you. "it's gonna be fine."

you lick at your dry lips, looking up at him with wide eyes. "how do you know? what if i don't know what to say and we lapse into an awkward silence? what if i fall asleep during the movie? oh, my god or what if i burp when we drink from our shared soda?"

"oooh, a shared soda?" mingi teases, "one straw or two?"

your lips turn into a pout at him making fun of you, craning your neck to the side and resisting the overwhelming urge to stomp on his foot with yours.

"don't do it," he says warningly, eyes dropping to your sock-covered feet causing a small smirk to cross your face.

"how did you even know," you mumble before turining back to your closet with a groan. "oh, my god i have no clothes. i can't go. i'm not going."

"you can and you will," mingi says, getting up and guiding you over to the bed by your shoulders. he commands for you to sit before rifling through your closet, picking out two different shirts and laying them out next to you.

"those are nice. pick between one of those and then like jeans or something," mingi says, "i'm going to raid your fridge and when i'm back, you better be dressed."

"get me some water, please!" you yell after him, smiling when throws a mock dirty look your way. you look over the two shirts mingi laid out, trying them both on before choosing one and pairing it with boots and a long necklace.

"and before you ask, i put in six ice cubes the way you always-"

mingi's loud voice halts when he walks back in your room, his mouth nearly falling open. you hadn't even done anything to your hair or face yet but the outfit clings to you in ways only puberty could cause, his eyes widening as they roam over you.

"what?" you squeak, quickly turning to the mirror to assess yourself. "do i look bad"?

"no," he's quick to assure, placing the glass of water on your dresser and making his way over to you. "you look like...." your eyes meet in the mirror and you raise your eyebrow at him, "a girl."

you spin around, a scoff leaving your mouth as you push him by the shoulder. "i've always been a girl, asshole!"

"i know," he laughs out, doing his best to keep his eyes on your face. "but now you really look like one."

"oh, my gosh are you... you're a pervert!" you squeal, hitting his chest multiple times and leading him towards the door. "i'm kicking you out! no pervs allowed!"

"i'm not!" he whines, "i swear i'm not. i was just saying."

"i'll see you tomorrow, pervert!"

but you end up seeing him just a few hours later. because you walked to the theater only a few blocks away around 6:45 since yeosang told you the movie started at 7:15.

7:15 came and went, your head popping up everytime you heard the ding of the door opening. but it was never him. not when it happened at 7:20 or 7:30 or even 8:00. you were on the verge of tears, the pit in your stomach growing as more time passes. you're there for a full hour before you accept that he's not coming, not a single text back from him after sending him five and calling three times.

the cold air stings your watery eyes on the way home, hands shaking and mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. why would he stand you up? did he intend to from the start or did something maybe come up? you felt more embarrassed than anything else, standing in that theater watching couples come and go while the workers looked at you grasp your phone with sympathy.

you stomp up the stairs and straight to your room, slamming your door and throwing back on your pajamas. you keep your face in the pillow for so long you can't believe you don't suffocate, not allowing the tears fall for that stupid boy.

your hands start itching to text mingi and you scramble for your phone, typing out a frowny face to him.

‘what happened?’ he texts back a minute later ‘is the movie that bad?’

‘i don't know, he never showed up’

your door bursts open five minutes later, two plastic bags in mingi's hands with a dark, anger expression on his face.

"i knew he was a douche," the boy growls, plopping the bags on your dresser before walking over to sit on your bed. "are you okay?"

his face crumbles when he sees your lips form into a pout, tears welling up in your eyes and he's quick to take you in his arms. you sit there and listen to his mumbles assuring how how much yeosang missed out, how he's just some random loser who didn't deserve to go on a date with you in the first place.

netiher of you comment on your tears, the wetness soaking through his shirt as you silently cry into him. he eventually leans you both back on the headboard, his arm around you as your head rests on his shoulder.

"i'm sorry," you wince, rubbing over the wet spot on his shirt.

"it's okay, a little snot won't hurt me."

"there's no snot," you grumble lowly, the whine in your voice causing him to chuckle.

he reluntanctly pulls himself away from you, gathering up the snacks he bought and bringing them over to your bed. and that's how you spend the rest of the night, cuddled into his shoulder watching a marathon of movies completely forgetting about the boy who made you cry.

choi san was the boy you had a two-month summer romance with. you think you loved him as much as a 15-year-old could love somebody, spending your days by his side on the beach or at the pool.

he wasn't only one of the most beautiful boys you'd ever seen, he was sweet. so sweet almost to the point where you didn't believe that he was real at first.

you had been laid out on your pink beach towel, nearly asleep in the blazing summer sun when a volleyball bounced right off your head. your first instinct was to yelp, your hand flying to your head and quickly shooting up to see where it had come from.

and there he stood, concerned eyes looking over your figure.

"i'm so sorry!" his voice franticaly apologized, "apparently i'm really out of practice and shouldn't be playing around the general public. i can take you to the first-aid office if you-"

"it's okay, i'm fine," you giggle at his rambling, stretching out your foot to drag the ball closer to you. "here. get some more practice."

his melodic laugh echos throughout the beach as he thanks you with a smile; you immediately notice his dimples and your own smile widens because that is the cutest thing you’ve ever. and he's about to turn around and walk away when he looks you over again, pursing his lips to the side before inviting you to play and help him practice.

"you just wanna make sure i'm not concussed," you tease, his bright smile aimed right at you the first of many that summer. it was all pure and innocent, arms and hands knocking into one another as you walk down the beach, always sitting side by side at weekend bonfires, his arms gripping your waist as you fall off the board during your surfing lessons.

he asks you the night he pecks your cheek if the boy you always talk about is your boyfriend. and you throw your head back in laughter like it was the funniest thing you ever heard because

"mingi?" you squealed, "no way! he's been my best friend since i was little. it's... not like that between us."

because when you got home from your nights out with san and his friends, you told mingi all about him. how you'd never met a boy that was just as cute as he was nice and, given your track record, mingi was reluctant at first. but then the more you talked about him, even briefly allowing them to meet over facetime, he got the best friend seal of approval.

the last week of your vacation was packed into time with san, the both of you trying to spend the last few days of your vacation together; mingi also had refused to video chat you, insisting he had a surprise for you when you got back.

so with a tearful departure and an exchange of phone numbers, you said goodbye to san. you guys promised each other to keep in contact, leave your relationship as just friends and see what happens within the next few months of texting.

and while a part of you was sad to leave behind his dimply smile and the hot sun, another part of you was overwhelmingly excited to see mingi now; you think this is the longest you've ever been apart. so the second you get home, you drop your stuff on the front porch and run to his house, banging on his door rapidly.

and when it opens, an audible gasp leaves your mouth. because there mingi stands, his tall handsome self even more handsome with sunkissed skin and a head full of red, wavy hair.

"your hair!" you squeal, jumping up to throw your arms around his neck; a deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he picks you up in a hug and you're trying to remember if it always sounded like that.

"you like it?" he mumbles as he places you down, "i was so damn bored without you."

“i love it!” you squeak, lifting your hand up to ruffle his soft hair. he narrows his eyes playfully, moving his head away before dragging you into his house by your pointer finger.

you two lay out on his bed, your feet by his head and your head by his feet as you catch up on what you both did during your time apart. he tells you about the drama-filled house parties you missed, how a group of juniors crashed it and then successfully checked off mingi getting french kissed.

“you’re lying!” you laugh out, “you are lying to me.”

“i wish i was, y/n,” he says, the honest pain and terror evident in his voice as he relives the memory. “it was like she was trying to get me to inhale and digest it.”

your loud giggle booms through his room as you lean up on your elbows to look at him, leaned back against the headboard as he wears a tortured expression. but even with it, you can see why the girl’s were attacking him this summer.

because between his new hair and basketball workout routinue paying off, he is straying quickly from his nerdy, gangly teen self; your eyes can’t help but notice how broad his shoulders have also gotten.

“are you checking me out, y/n?” he asks, not being able to help the smirk that crosses his face.

“shut up,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes, trying your very hardest to pretend you weren’t. “you think because one girl tongues you, you’re hot shit now.”

“when did i say it was only one?” he quips. you shake your head, kicking him lightly in the stomach and causing him to snort. you hear your phone vibrate across the room, craning your head back before mingi suggests going to ice cream place in your town that’s only opened seasonly.

“oh, my gosh, please! i totally forgot about that!” you say, jumping up from his bed and tugging him out. “let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

you run over to check your phone, seeing two messages from san; you quickly respond to him asking if you made it home safe, sending him a confirmation with a purple heart before rushing out with mingi.

and that’s how it goes for the remaining weeks of summer. you and san sporadically texting before you run off to go in mingi’s pool or walk to the ice cream shop with him. you and san were able to talk on the phone one night jut for you to fall asleep ten minutes in, since mingi had woken you up bright and early to get breakfast.

by the time school starts, your texts with san fizzles out. both of you free at different times, you distracted by plans with mingi or san preoccupied with family functions. and two weeks ago, you would’ve thought that you’d be sad about that, not seeing his name pop up with a good morning or night text.

but it’s like the second you were reunited with mingi, you just wanted to spend all your time catching up with him.

jeong yunho was your first boyfriend, one of the happiest and sweetest people you’d ever come to know. you guys had been on three dinner dates, one more perfect than the next, before he nervously fumbled over his words and asked you to be his girlfriend.

your time with him had been ten months of bliss, soft kisses and gentle words from the boy you never once saw without a smile or heard raise his voice. you knew anyone would be lucky to have a boyfriend like him.

because on days you were sad or stressed with schoolwork, he would bring you your favorite snacks and let you fall asleep on his chest. when you were having a problem with something, he sat down and quietly listened before kindly offering his advice. when your relationship had started to get more sexual in nature, he was so slow with you.

pulling back from your lips and asking if you were sure it was okay to take off your shirt, slowly trailing his lips down your body and looking up at your eyes every so often to make sure you were okay with going past making out, insisting that you didn’t have to return the favor after he made you come on his tongue.

tonight, you were on a double date: you, yunho, mingi and his newest fling, a girl a year younger than you guys. the two boys had become incredibly close within the past months, sometimes you’d even come home to see them hanging out without you; but it made you happy, it felt good knowing your best friend and your boyfriend liked each other.

and mingi’s girl was actually really cool and sweet, she was a lot more friendly than the other girls he usually hangs out with. they’d been talking for about four months now and you both have become quite close of friends, sneaking off into the bathroom as girls do during these types of things.

“you and yunho really are so cute,” she says softly. “i know you guys were holding hands under the table.”

a small, embarrassed giggle leaves your mouth as your hands fly up to your cheeks. “stop!”

“better than mingi!” she says, “cheeky fuck was trying to finger me under the-”

“oh, my god!” you squeal, slapping your hands over your ears immediately. “stop it! he was not!”

“he was!” she squeals, her own embarrassed laugh leaving her now seeing your cheeks redden. “he’s so crazy.”

“oh, my god yunho would’ve died,” you tell her, “he’s so shy with stuff like that.”

“have you guys...”

you shake your head; you guys had covered most of the bases already, clumsy hands and muffled moans under his blanket or in your elbow. but you guys always got interrupted before anything could happen, whether it be by parents or phone calls. but it also seemed as if yunho was...apprehensive, almost overly concerned that you’d regret it or not want too.

“well i can’t imagine why,” she says, drying off her hands with a paper towel, “he can’t seem to keep his hands off you.”

for the reminder of dinner, you brain is wracking over the conversation from the bathroom. you’re not saying you wish yunho would try to do the shit your crazy best friend tries but you’ve been...more than ready to take the next step for the past few weeks now.

so after you guys depart and go back to yunho’s empty house, you make sure to tell him.

“are-are you sure?” the boy asks, “i told you i don’t mind wait-”

“no more waiting,” you say, leading him into his room and kicking the door shut with your foot. you’re about to kiss him, tug him down by the front of his shirt to meet your lips when you ask. “unless... do you want to wait?”

you giggle against his lips when he mumbles “no way,” your mouths connecting and your tongue slipping into his mouth. you fumble over to the bed, clothes littering the floor before your hands and mouths explore each other’s bodies. you moan out when his long fingers toy at your clit and enter you slowly, wriggling your hips toward him in an effort to make them go deeper.

“more, yunho,” you mumble breathily, “please.”

he responds with a kiss to your lips, his finger sliding in deeper and then adding another one when you ask him. after you come you lie on your back in bliss and wait for him to enter you, little whines leaving your mouth as you lay there wet and ready.

and you have to imagine this first experience went as good as any first time, his large length entering you and your tightness adjusting around him until he’s able to pick up his pace. it’s a nice feeling, you certainly wouldn’t call it bad, but it also didn’t feel as mind-blowing as its claimed to be.

yunho thinks otherwise though, thrusting into you with a final loud moan before rolling over and onto his back. and because he’s him, he’s quick to clean you up and guide to his chest. his hand runs over your hand soothingly, his touch as sweet as him and you can’t help but smile against his warm skin.

“wait, you’re really complaining that he’s too nice, y/n?” mingi asks a month later in disbelief, “am i actually hearing this right?”

“you don’t get it,” you say, slapping your hands on his counter in frustration. because you know it sounds like an absurd complaint to have about your boyfriend but... “we’ve almost been dating for a year and we’ve never had a single fight. he never disagrees with me, it’s almost like he just...agrees on everything with me to avoid a fight.”

mingi’s lips purse to the side in thought, cutting his sandwich down the middle; he had noticed that actually, how you mostly led the conversations and opinions. which he always found ironic, given that you’re typically the more shy and timid individual.

“i mean, that is a little odd...” your friend agrees but you see the reluctance on his face. “but c’mon, it could be worse. he could be a dick.”

“i know,” you squeak, snatching the other half of his sandwich off his plate and taking a bite despite his groans of protest. “but like...i don’t know, it’s just a little frustrating. like boring?”

“hm,” he hums, a smirk crossing his face before he looks at you. “sounds like you’re frustrated about something else as well.”

your eyebrows furrow together at the boy, shaking your head at him despite the fact that he’s spot on. “okay, mr exhibitionist, not everything is about that.”

a snort leaves him as he rolls his eyes. “apparently it is, mrs. i wanna be choked.”

“i never said that!” you squeak, a deep red blush rushing to your cheeks that only makes him laugh harder.

“i’m kidding,” he says, “but really. if you’re not happy with him, you should tell him.”

“i know,” you sigh, “but it doesn’t seem right. because he doesn’t do anything wrong. that seems very...i don’t know, selfish.”

“it’d more selfish to not tell him, i think. to just lead him on into thinking you’re okay with everything.”

you eyebrow raises at his comment, surprised by his slightly insightful comment. “you just want what’s best for your new best friend,” you playfully whine.

“new?” he asks, reaching out to bop the tip of your nose. “i’ve known you forever, y/n.” a small, shy smile crosses your face because there’s always something about him calling you his best friend that makes your heart tug.

and because your best friend was right, you sit down and talk with yunho a few days later. you tell him about your concerns and he tells you about his and you end up coming to the conclusion that perhaps you’re better as friends instead of significant others.

mingi comes over that night ready to mend a hurt heart, because break-ups no matter how amicable, are hard. but he’s happy to discover you’re okay and the two of you have a sleepover like old times. except this time, you share your bed and somehow end up falling asleep with his arms around your waist.

park seonghwa was merely a test, a known ‘badboy’ player at your high school who hasn’t had a serious girlfriend a day in his life. you figured he’d be a good test since as of lately, your mind has been...overflooded by thoughts of your best friend. thoughts you absoluetely shouldn’t be having.

because now you don’t only seek out his touches, playful grabs of your waist when you and your friends play manhunt or needing to have skin on skin contact during move nights, but it’s gone deeper.

waking up from a dream in a cold sweat and an ache between your legs. the sounds of his deep voice in your mind, flashes of his broad shoulders and wavy red hair and plump lips that you just want between your-

“seonghwa,” you moan, gripping his hair tightly as his head is buried between your legs.

the boy made it very clear: only call him when you wanna get off and he’ll do the same. and it made for quite a convenient arrangement during these past few weeks, waking up every few days from another sexually explicit dream of your very familiar neighbor; it also didn’t hurt that he had quite the skilled tongue.

“moving you,” is all he says as a warning, flipping over to lay on his back before guiding your hips back to his face. you quickly get the hint and start to lick him up and down, slipping him in your mouth and bobbing your head up and down.

the room is full of muffled moans and chokes, pressing back further onto his face as he bucks his cock further into your mouth until you both come with a loud cries.

you flip over onto your own back, catching your breath before sitting up in his bed. “always a pleasure, mr park,” you say playfully causing him to snort.

“that’s the forth time this week, y/n,” he hums, “what has you so pent up?”

you turn your head to look at him and he recognizes the look on your face all too well, a smirk crossing his face.

“or should i ask who?”

your mouth drops open slightly, eyes roaming his face because how the hell does he know?

“i’m frequently used for unrequited love,” he says lowly, throwing a wink your way. “so is it an ex or a friend’s boyfriend?”

“my best friend,” you sigh out after a few moments, throwing your naked body back down on the bed and rubbing your hands over your face. “i never thought of him this way and now all the sudden i’m...”

you end up telling seonghwa all about your friendship with mingi, explaining to him how long you’ve known him and how close you’ve always been before you noticed it morphing into something very different. because the more you thought about it, the more you realized just how quickly you’d forget or drop other boys because of him. how you were always comforted best by him, how you sought him out in times of distress or excitment and felt most comfortable with just you and him.

seonghwa hums thoughtfully at this information, taking it all in before nodding his head. he only utters a cryptic “interesting,” before tugging on his boxers and asking if you wanna get food.

you do the same thing next week with him, work up an appetite in the form of exhausting sex that numbs your mind until you both get food at the only late night diner open in town. and for a relationship based solely off sex, you and seonghwa find it easy to talk. it’s light-hearted conversation, picking fun at teachers and students you mutually dislike until your plates are polished off and you leave cash on the table.

seonghwa opens the door for you to leave just as mingi walks in with a group of boys, smiling at your friend who meets yours gaze.

“isn’t it past your bedtime?” he quips, ruffling the top of your hair.

“oh, shut up,” you spit, sticking your tongue out and poking his chest lightly. seonghwa watches the exchange with a smirk, mingi’s eyes catching his gaze.

“hi, seonghwa.”

“hey.”

mingi has heard far too much about seonghwa’s reputation, expressing his concerns to you over and over about the boy. but you insisted you knew what you were getting into and that appears evident before his very eyes, seeing as how seonghwa’s arm has snaked itself tightly around your waist.

there’s a few moments of awkward silence and you bite your lip in confusion, squinting your eyes at the harsh expression on mingi’s face.

“can i meet you at the car?” you ask, turning to look up at seonghwa. “i have to talk to him about something.”

“sure,” he says, smirking down at you before squeezing your hip. “but don’t make me wait too long.”

when the sound of the door shuts, you look up to see mingi’s eyes following seonghwa’s departing figure.

“hey,” you say, standing up on your tippy toes in hopes to block his view. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t like him,” he grumbles lowly and you let out a small groan.

“mingi...”

“he’s not good, y/n,” he says, taking a step closer to you, “especially for you.”

“oh? and why’s that?” you ask, turning your head to the side as you raised your eyebrow at him playfully.

“he just... isn’t,” he grunts out deeply, your eyes widening slightly at his tone.

“i know what i’m doing, mingi,” you say, poking his chest lightly. “it’s the same thing that you do.”

because you’ve seen how many different girls he’s had flings with, how he’s exactly the same as seonghwa in the sense that he’s never had a real girlfriend.

“that’s how i know he’s not good for you, you deserve more than that.”

you smile softly at the boy, lifting your hand to rake your fingers through his fluffy hair. “it was my idea to start with him,” you hum lowly, “don’t worry, okay? i’ll see you tomrrow, yeah?”

his eyes roam over your face, feeling your heart contrict when he meets your gaze. you’ve watched him grow over the years but his eyes have always been the same, brown and soft as they look right into you.

“you’ve had a lot of dumb ideas but that’s probably been your worst.”

you let out a small giggle, poking his cheek lightly before turning around. “enjoy your pancakes!” you say over your shoulder, giving him a knowing wink that has a smirk pulling at his lips.

when you plop down in seonghwa’s passenger seat, he looks over at you with a shit eating grin on his handsome face.

“what?” you squeak out, pulling your eyebrows together at his expression.

“you guys are both dumb,” he laughs out, shaking his head.

“what do you mean?!” you yelp, refraining from hitting his arm.

“you guys like each other” the boy says, “actually, you’re probably in love.” and when you don’t say anything because your cheeks are too busy flushing, he makes it ten times worse by adding, “and he definitely wants to fuck the shit out of you as well.”

song mingi was your best friend of eighteen years. you were there for each other during everything: bullies and fighting parents and boyfriends, true, self-proclaimed best friends until one day the inevitable seemed to happen.

because you always wanted to believe you and him could just be friends, that platonic relationships between a boy and girl are absolutely possible. but it quickly became obvious that wasn’t the case for you both.

the middle of senior year was when the change happened and it was because of something as cliche as a drunken night. the both of you stumbled up to his room, his parents gone for the weekend visiting family, with a box of pizza in hand.

“you know how-” the boy hiccups, “you know how i know i love you?”

“how?” you whine out, stumbling over to his dresser to look for a pair of sweatpants.

“because...i would never eat this shitty pizza,” he groans, “but i-i know it’s your favorite and i like when you’re happy.”

you giggle into your hand, taking out a pair of black sweatpants before not so gracefully sliding your jeans down your legs. and because you’re in the state you’re in, mingi turns just in time to see you fumble over your inside out pants, running over to catch you last minute with a chuckle.

“oh, my god, y/n.”

he carefully lays you back on the the carpet, your druken giggles and flushed face distracting him from the fact that the only thing covering your lower half is a small, black thong. he’s doing his best to not let his eyes drop, training his face right on yours but he thinks that might be making it worse. staring at each other with you under him, your eyes hazy and hair splayed out on the floor.

“mingi?” you say suddenly, tone quiet and soft as you look over his face.

“mhm?” he hums, moving his hand so he’s grazing your hair.

“do you-do you actually love me?”

his eyes squint at you before they roam the rest of your face, his hand twitching with the need to reach out and touch your face.

“of course i do,” he says before getting out through gritted teeth, “you’re my best friend.”

because you never gave him any indication you wanted more, the way he’s wanted more since he hit the age of 14. he thinks it’s why he was never able to date a girl, far too distracted in kissing and fucking away the obvious need in to be with you. too busy comparing all of them to you and your connection.

“i don’t mean like that,” you whine, “i mean like...”

he waits for you to speak but you never do, just the sound of your heavy breaths filling the room now.

“like what?”

but you only shake your head, not wanting to be humiliated and the cliche, tipsy girl who pronounces her love to her best friend. “nevermind,” you mumble, arching your back to stretch and reach out to grab the pants you dropped.

but he’s quick to grab your wrist, shaking his head as his eyes remain on you.

“tell me.”

his grasp on your wrist and the deep demand in his voice causes you to swallow nervously, that familiar feeling brewing in your lower stomach; but your humiliation, the fear that you could potentially ruin everything outweighs it.

“it’s nothing, mingi,” you say quietly, “can we just eat the piz-”

“tell. me.”

his eyes are burning into yours now, your teeth digging into your lip now because okay, maybe your arousal might be outweighing all of your rational thoughts.

“you want to,” he hums lowly, his face lowering to yours, “i know you do.”

and whether it was your doing or his, your lips suddenly connect and bring a sense of immediate gratification. moans muffled by each others mouths, his hand fisting your hair as you bring your own to his cheek. he pulls away to kiss down the skin of your neck, mumbling your name and “finally” as you throw your head back in pleasure.

because it’s just the fact that it’s his lips, his tongue, his voice that has your veins flooding and coursing with excitment and lust.

“i’ve wanted you for so fucking long,” he mumbles against you, his large hands running up and down your sides.

“me too, oh...my god,” you whine, snapping your head up to look down at him; the sight alone makes you clench, biting the flesh of your lip to surpress another moan. “mingi, please.”

and you only have to ask once for him to scoop you up and place you on the bed, his body hovering over yours as you pull at his shirt. he takes it off in one fluid motion, portraying his bare chest and shoulders causing your mouth to turn up into a smile before it’s quickly replaced by his lips.

he hits every spot inside you with ease, your eyes rolling back and shrieks filling the room that you’d normally be embarrassed by. but then the sound of his moans and groans filling the room made it impossible to stop, the both of you breathing each other’s names and proving just how long you’ve waited for this.

you know what you did that night was meant to happen because the naturalness of it all almost seemed impossible, how easily your lips and bodies melted and fit into one another.

you fell asleep on his sweaty chest after hours of pleasure, listening to his rapid heartbeat slow under your ear. the last thing you heard was his deep mumble of “i love you” and you woke to a pepper of kisses on your cheek. your eyes popped open and heart soared when you saw him, the sunlight shining through and surrounding the strawberry-haired boy.

“hi,” you say softly, lifting your arms out to snake them around his shoulders and pull yourself into his chest. he chuckles into your messy, morning hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you stay like that for a few moments, close and warm and breathing each other in until he pulls back to ask how you’re feeling.

“good,” you say quietly, your cheeks flushing at the sight of him in bed, in the morning light next to you. “really good, actually.”

“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, “and why’s that?”

you pick your head so your chin rests on his chest, wiggling your eyebrows playfully at him. “no reason.”

a mock look of hurt covers his face, his eyes narrowing at you which quickly causes to you to place a kiss on his cheek. “kidding!”

he smile softly, bopping your nose lightly before pulling you back into his chest. you spend the morning never leaving his bed, light kisses and soft giggles and quietly spoken love confessions.

and when you both hear the his front door open, his mom’s voice calling his name, your eyes widen and you scramble to put on clothes before running downstairs. you hadn’t even realized you were hand-in-hand, fingers intertwined, until his parents stop and look at you. both of them blankly stare, eyes moving from your flushed faces to connected hands, before his mom lets out a high pitched squeal of “finally!” and his dad groans.

you both watch as mingi’s dad takes out his wallet and hands over a $100 bill to her, side-eyeing the both of you as his mom snatches it and runs over to envelope you both both in a hug.

“you couldn’t have waited a few more months,” his dad grumbles.

“i knew you’d get together before high school ended!” his mom squeals, pulling back and letting out an aww when you hide your flushed face and giggle in his chest.

“mom! what the he- you made a bet?!”

“okay c’mon, you guys, it was obvious,” she says, bouncing off into the living room excitedly with a full heart. because she knew nothing made you both more happy than each other, her and your mom swearing from day one that this was destined to happen.

she watches an hour later you both at the kitchen counter, mingi smearing peanut butter on your face as you giggle and throw a piece of cheese at him.

you both make your sandwiches before cutting them down the middle, giving each other the bigger pieces out of instinct. mingi leans down to place a kiss on your lips as you rise to your tippy toes, giggling against one another before mingi asks if you’re allowed to be both his bestfriend and girlfriend.

#mingi #mingi fluff #mingi smut #mingi moodboard #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez mingi

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hermit-pistol · 4 years

Text

conspiracies and confessions (mista x reader)

This is for @honey-pea as the result of the 100 follower raffle! Yes it’s goofy...but I love it so- enjoy! :>

You never thought that you would ever become a member of a gang, yet here you are. When Bruno Bucciarati asked you, just a common pickpocket, to become a member of Passione, you couldn't believe it.

"You're joking, right?"

"Passione is no joke. I think that you would fit in well. While we may have differing backgrounds, I treat my gang like family."

He wasn't joking about that, once you passed Polpo's test and gained a "stand" of your very own, the other members of the gang welcomed you, surprisingly.

There was Narancia, an energetic young boy, Fugo, a little reserved in nature, Abbacchio, who hated your guts (or so you thought, anyway), and Mista.

Oh, Mista.

You probably got along the best with him. You two had the most in common, he was just so easy to talk to! More often than not you would be up until the early hours of the morning giggling about some stupid internet videos or chatting about the latest gossip.

You would be lying to yourself if you said there were times where you thought of him as more than a friend. But, you didn't want to spoil the good relationship that you already had, although it may have been platonic in nature.

Until then, you appreciated what you had.

----

It had been a little over a year since you joined Bruno's gang, and you could say that you had really found your home there. Another member had joined as well, going by the name of Giorno Giovanna. He was good, strong both physically and mentally, and was your team's secret weapon as of late.

Given the nature of the missions from the boss lately, your group had been living in a tiny room inside of a turtle for longer than you would have liked. Between missions, everyone was grumpy and irritable, either camping out on the couches or floor or complaining that there weren't enough drinks in the mini-fridge.

It also didn't help that Trish Una, the boss' daughter that they were in charge of protecting... was extremely demanding.

After a couple of weeks of living in the furthest thing from paradise, Bruno decided that it was time for a change.

"I've booked us a place for a couple of nights." It seemed as if everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. "It's only fair since we've been working so hard lately."

"Is there a pool?? I wanna go swimming!" Narancia all but yelled as he stood up from where he was slumped on the couch, excitement shone in his eyes.

"Did you get a hotel, Bucciarati?" Abbacchio leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.

"I didn't, the boss did. He's looked so favorably upon us that we each get our own rooms too." He raised his eyebrows, which could barely be seen behind his bangs. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"It's about time that we got some reward for our hard work!" Mista pumped his fist into the air. Sex Pistols cheered as well, probably at the thought of all the gourmet food that they were about to eat.

"When do we get to go?" You asked, never looking up from your book. You had started it that morning.

"Tonight, actually. Be ready to check-in in about an hour or so." You could hear a loud 'YAY' from under Mista's hat. How cute!

---

Within the next hour, you were laying on a plush hotel bed, continuing your reading. Bruno, Giorno, Trish, and Abbacchio were relaxing in their own rooms, but you distinctly remember Narancia saying that he was going to drag Mista and Fugo into the swimming pool. He had also asked you to go, but at that time you had found that you preferred the quiet company of a book compared to screaming children (Narancia included) at a public pool.

It was about the paranormal, one of your favorite subjects. Nothing beats reading about creepy facts in a hotel room in the early evening, right? Your mind was racing when you heard a knock on the door.

Throwing your book on the bed, you padded along the plush carpeting to the doorway, looking outside the peephole. It was Mista, looking around. A big smile crept onto your features as you undid the deadbolt. "Helloooo~ welcome to my crib." You giggled at your stupidity.

Thankfully, Mista appreciated your goofy sense of humor. "You dork, if you're gonna talk to me like that for the rest of the night I should probably leave." He said in a serious tone, obviously joking.

"Yeah, be my guest." You settled back into your comfy spot in the middle of the bed. "I thought that you were going to be at the pool with the other guys?"

"Eh, I told them that I would join them in a little bit. The Pistols wouldn't stop complaining about wanting to see you, though." He took off his hat momentarily to let out his mischievous stand. They circled around you chanting your name. "We've missed you!" they spoke in unison.

"I saw you all yesterday. Talk about clingy." You giggled. "I've just been reading."

"Ooh what about?" Mista asked as he sat down on the bed next to you. You always loved when he was interested in your hobbies.

"It's about creepy stuff. Did you know that if you wake up in the middle of the night it could be because your body senses someone was staring at you?"

"I did not, but that's absolutely terrifying." He let out a nervous laugh. "Uh...now that the adrenaline is kicking in we should read it together. I didn't need sleep tonight anyways."

"Good idea." You opened the book, with the Sex Pistols nestling themselves in between the two of you.

After reading for about 30 minutes or so, Mista pointed out one interesting fact himself. He was so close to you, and you hoped that he didn't hear your racing heart.

"It says that to avoid the influences of mind control, you should craft a hat out of...tinfoil?" Pffft. "Y/N I know what we have to do now."

"Oh yeah? Where are we gonna get it? I most certainly don't have any tinfoil on me..."

"Abbacchio. He has to have some. He does all sorts of crazy shit to his hair." You shrugged your shoulders. You decided to let him take responsibility as the two of you left your room to make the short walk down the hall.

One embarrassing encounter later, you had learned that Abbacchio did not have your 'fucking stupid tinfoil' and proceeded to cuss you out accordingly.

Luckily, the little convenience store down the road carried some. You picked up a pair of scissors as well, and were soon walking back to the hotel laughing about what was to come.

"Okay Pistols, do you guys want hats too?" Mista asked once the two of you had returned to the room. They all squealed with joy. Well, there was your answer.

You un-boxed the scissors and started cutting the first strip of the foil. It made such a satisfying sound.

You started with 6 small strips for each of the pistols. Once they were cut, you formed the easily-malleable substance into small cones.

"C'mere guys." You placed each one on their heads, which fit perfectly. Next you set to work making two larger ones for Mista and yourself.

"Mista look at me!" Number 7 floated around the comforter.

"MEEESTA! Number 3 ripped my hat!" Number 5 cried as he sat on your shoulder. The thought of knowing that he wouldn't be susceptible to mind control comforted him even though his hat was’t in the best condition.

You stopped your work and examined his hat. "Number 5, it looks fine to me. Big Brother won't pierce your brain waves today. Dry those tears."

"O-okay." He sniffled. By this point you had finished the hats. You and Mista decided to take pictures of each other to see how ridiculous you looked.

"I look like a pointy toe." You laughed out loud as you walked to the bathroom mirror. "Let's take a picture together!"

"Alright." He was at your side, and just before you took the picture he decided to sling an arm around you. In the moment you jumped, therefore ruining the picture. "Lemme see! You gotta send this to me."

You looked at the result of your stupidity: a blurry picture produced by shaky hand syndrome. "Uh, let's take another one." You readied your camera, determined to make memories.

This time when Mista put his arm around you you didn't even flinch. It felt...natural.

The two of you were having a good time until the power went out. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, and the Pistols started screaming. "M-mista!" You could hear the whimpers of Number 5 from the other room.

"I'm coming guys!" Mista called. "Y/N gimme your hand." You reached around the bathroom blindly, and instead made contact with his exposed midriff. Oops.

"Sorry, sorry!" You could hear the humility in your voice as you trailed your touch over his arm to eventually reach his hand. It felt quite warm. Yours were just clammy from being a nervous wreck.

Soon all of you were huddled together on the bed again, using cell phones for lighting. "A hotel having a power outage..seems a little strange, don't you think?" You asked.

"Is this our next conspiracy?" Mista smirked. You still couldn't take him seriously with his tinfoil hat on.

"Yes, Mista. The conspiracy of the idiot in the hotel room. How spooky." Your heart stopped when you heard the scratching on the door.

"W-what was that."

"You're asking me?" Through the dim phone screen lights, you could see a worried expression cross his handsome features. "I guess that means that we have to check it out."

"We? This is all you buddy." You gave him a playful shove, although the tone present in your voice was anything but.

Mista got up and straightened out his outfit. He walked up to the peephole on shaky legs. "There's..no one here." He breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's weird." You relaxed a little, the Pistols curling up in your arms, tinfoil hats scratching you.

That's when the thumping started.

Mista was still at the door terrified. "Come here!" You mouthed, and he wasted no time in sprinting back to the bed. "Mista, I'm kind of freaked out."

"It's okay, I am too." He opened his arms, inviting you in. You fell into them without a second thought. The Pistols joined in as well, and soon all of you were a giant ball of cuddling and crinkled tinfoil.

You felt his heart race as you pressed your ear against his chest. You figured that since you might not get another opportunity like this you might as well confess your blossoming feelings.

"Mista I have something to say..." His dark eyes bore into yours.

"Sure, what's up?" The thumps were growing louder and more frequent now.

"I really enjoy spending time with you, and you've really helped me find my place in Passione. You're definitely the member that I've grown closest to and I appreciate that, but over the past year, I've realized that maybe..." You tightened your grip on his torso.

"Maybe what? That you have romantic feelings?"

You were shocked. "Well, you took the words right out of my mouth." The Pistols let out a collective 'oooh'. You could have sworn that you heard a distinct, 'Mista has a girlfriend~' taunt coming from one of them...probably Number 3.

The thumping was so loud at this point, you let out a scream holding onto Mista for dear life. It seemed as if the door were about to fall off of its hinges. The door eventually swung open violently. With the intensity that it had made contact with the wall you could tell that the flimsy hotel drywall was cracked.

The lighting provided by the emergency exit signs brought out the outline of a figure, with a flowing garb and...ears?

Thoughts were racing through your head. You whispered over to Mista, watching the figure carefully, "I think I know what that is, I read about it in my book earlier. Page 343. It's a catboy."

"A catboy?! What...I thought those were only-"

"A cryptid? A figment of the imagination? Me too, but we are not your average goons. We are prepared," Your eyes looked up, indicating to your hats, "I think we should rush him. The book says that they're not that violent."

"I'm following you on this one Y/N." He was too scared to look at the figure standing in the doorway. It was surprising that it hadn't yet made a move.

"Okay, 3.."

"2.."

"1.. CHARGE!" Mista leapt off of the bed and ran up to the creature, tackling him to the floor, his tinfoil hat flying off.

"TAKE THAT CATBOY!" You screamed as the two wrestled on the ground, and as if on cue the lights turned back on.

"Get off of me!" The figure turned out to be Giorno Giovanna, wearing a robe and hair curlers. "Why are you attacking me Mista, why are all of you wearing those ridiculous hats, and most importantly why am I a catboy?" You could sense the anger in his voice, which was very uncharacteristic of him since he was usually so level-headed.

"I-" you started, taking off your hat and shamefully placing it on the bed. "We were just having a little bit of fun. Then the power turned off and we got paranoid. I'm sorry Giorno."

"I noticed the power went out so I went to check on everyone else, I did not expect to have you lock me out of your room and then be tackled to the floor." Giorno adjusted one of his rollers that had fallen out of place due to the beatdown.

"Sorry man, let's talk about it tomorrow morning? When emotions aren't getting in the way." Mista gave a goofy grin, and Giorno rolled his eyes in response and bid them a barely audible 'good night' as he walked down the hallway.

Once again, it was just you, Mista, and the Pistols. At least the lights were back on again. "You're gonna have to explain that catboy thing to him later, he seemed very disturbed."

"Will do, but back to earlier-" He sat back down on the bed with you, grabbing your hand softly. "Did you really mean all those things you said?"

"I really did, there's no one else that I would rather be an idiot with, idiot." You laughed and placed your discarded tinfoil hat onto his head.

The Pistols cheered, with Number 5 shedding a few tears in the process, "Man, I just love a happy ending."

"I think that a sleepover is in order?" You playfully nudged him.

"Count me in."

#100 follower special #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #jojo x reader #guido mista #mista #mista x reader #guido mista x reader #jojo part 5 #yeah this is a lil like a crackfic but #i can picture mista doing this #bc hes a goofy gunman #honey-pea #i hope you like it!!

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goldrun · 4 years

Text

An unexpected inquiry: foolish notion

Read part 1 here

A/N: Hey guys! It took me more than three weeks to write this part, mainly because I wasn’t feeling it at all. But when I started writing, a lot of ideas popped up in my head and it came naturally (mostly). So I hope you’ll enjoy this part!!

@nerdbirdsworld @lilbabyhoneypot @dreams-of-wander @bluemirkwood @meilovesanime @downwiththedoorpoole @theofficialwitch @katewatso @c-s-stars

Pairing: Fili x Reader

Word count: 3484

It was almost 8 o'clock. You were in the flower shop back in the stockroom pretending to count the number of daffodils for the day after.

You couldn't set your mind to it. You still weren't able to fathom what happened yesterday. A prince asked you to court you. You. And you refused. Well, not quite, you sort of decided to give him a chance. It also felt kind of foolish. When you meet your One you just know it, and he definitely didn't felt like yours. And this kind of connection was more important to you than marrying some prince. You couldn’t deny the fact that you felt 'something', even though you declared it as negligible. Any other young dam would've said yes immediately. But you weren’t any other dam.

The dress you were wearing was a simple one, made of a periwinkle colored smooth silk and reached above your ankles. The sleeves came just over your elbows and they had lace hanging on the ends. The corset with lilac colored flowers sewn upon it was laced at the backside, just a small wink to your job. It wasn't overdone, and you felt beautiful. You even felt like you put a little too much effort for someone you didn't even care about, you chuckled to yourself, who are you kidding, of course you cared. Even felt nervous. Your (H/C) hair was partly braided on the front, with the rest of your hair hanging loose. Alava braided it. All decorated with small golden beads you inherited from your father and mother, as well as the dress you were wearing. It was worn by your mother and her mother before her. Your family wasn’t wealthy and with you being the only one left, this was the way you could honor them every time you had a special occasion. Wait, was this a special occasion? You shook your head and tried not to think about it too much.

Back in the stockroom you counted about sixty daffodils but you weren’t sure of the number, since you started counting again for about three or four times.

Suddenly the doorbell jangled and you heard footsteps on the wooden oak floor. Your heart skipped a beat. “Y/N?” You heard a male voice calling. You sighed in relief, it wasn’t a stupid joke between him and his brother, a thought that slipped through your head at night. Sharing one last glance in the small hand mirror you kept in a drawer for when you ever needed it, never expecting that it would ever be needed for a situation like this. Your legs almost forgot how to walk when you made your way to the main room of the shop, and you took a deep breath before entering.

There he stood. All handsome and neatly dressed. You looked directly into his blue eyes.

“Hi.” You gasped, feeling as if your feet weren't even touching the ground.

A smile appeared on his lips as he approached you closer. Oh no, that dimple again, you thought.

“Hi.” He marvelled as he took you in. "You look beautiful.” He said with hushed tone.

You smiled timidly. "You’re very kind, thank you.” You brushed your dress.

The two of you staring at each other for a moment. None of you really knowing what to say.

He wore a brown leather coat with beige colored fur on the fronts. A belt in the same color as his coat with golden buckles closed it all together.

“You look handsome, Prince Fili.” You broke the silence, instantly regretting what you said. Was it even appropriate?

He blushed a little. “Thank you.” He smiled. “And please, just call me Fili.” He shrugged

You beamed. “Very well, Fili.”

"I-I brought you a gift." He stammered and reached with his hand somewhere in his coat. He handed you a small black box and when you opened it your mouth fell open. It was a small brooch and recognized it as a lily. The flower was white and covered it in small crystals and fit right in the palm of your hand. "Thank you, it's beautiful but i can't accept this." Still mesmerized by the gesture.

Fili was determined. "No, it's a gift, from me to you."

“I don’t know what to say...Again, thank you.” You stammered. You pinned the brooch down on your chest.

“It looks good on you.” Fili approved.

You gushed. “It’s beautiful, I love it.”

“So, where are you taking me?” You asked with a curious tone.

“I’m taking you to a small tavern called ‘The Joyful Goat’ which is a short walk from here.” He grinned.

“A tavern?” You asked hesitantly. It didn’t sound quite pleasing to your ears.

“Don’t worry, it’s a very neat one.” He assured.

The two of you walked towards the tavern. Chit-chatting along the way. You told him about your family, and how the flower shop was owned by your grandparents. He told about his family as well, and his life in the royal halls, which you were interested to hear about.

When you reached the tavern you noticed a sign with a goat on it.

“Here it is!” He praised as he pulled the door and let you in first.

It was rather a tiny tavern, but just as he said, it was very neat. A friendly old dwarf greeted you and he seemed to know your companion.

Fili hugged the dwarf. “Hoìn! How are you?” Fili asked enthusiastically.

“Prince Fili.” He said loudly. “Nice to see you around! How is your mother?” Hoìn wondered. “She’s doing well, she said to send you her regards.” Fili said sincere.

“That’s good to hear.” Hoìn said. “And please send her our greetings.”

“I will!” Fili said. “Do you have a table for two?” He questioned.

“Excuse me, I was wandering off, please follow me!” As he gestured to follow him.

You sat down at the dark brown mahogany table, at the opposite of Fili. You took a quick look around, a fire was crackling and a few dwarfs sat at the bar. You enjoyed the ambiance as your eyes turned back onto your company. Fili even looked even more good-looking in this warm scenery. You noticed his warm blond hair and his braided moustache in the same hue. You tried to study his face as unnoticable as possible but you were ripped out of your thoughts abruptly.

“Myla!” Hoìn yelled as an older female dwarf appeared, supposedly his wife. “Can you give these two lovebirds our best wine and special stew?”

“Of course!” She said lighthearted.

“Oh but we’re not together.” You blurted and your eyes turned big.

“Yet.” Fili said mischievously.

You rolled your eyes at him, Mahal, what were you getting yourself into?

“Very well then!” He reported and he rushed off.

You sat down and the burning question in your head was trying to get out.

“Can I ask you something?” You interrogated.

“Of course.”

“Do you know about the rumors that are being told about you and your brother?”

“I assume you mean the wretched ones, so yes, I do know about them.”

“Are they true?” You squinted your eyes.

Fili shook his head. “I promise you, it’s not true."

You sighed in relief but not fully convinced. "I have no idea how these stories came into the world." He continued. "Kili was the most reckless one of us two, and I can’t say I’ve never done anything that Mahal wouldn’t approve of...” Fili admitted. “But I never woke up with a different girl in my bed every morning and I’m most definitely not seeing you as an easy catch.”

You smiled to yourself and looked down. “It would be surprising if you did.”

“Alright. Can I ask YOU question?” He queried while he gazed at you.

You leaned forward on the table. "Go for it.” you challenged him.

“Look, i'm not proud of the way how I approached you yesterday and I'm surprised you didn't ran away. You're definitely not feeling the same as i do, so, why waisting your time with me?”

"I'm going to be honest with you, i wanted to see who you really are. I thought you were different, nothing more than that." You confessed.

"Because of these stories?" He questioned as you nodded slowly.

"You said you thought I was different. So what do you think of me now?" Fili crook his brow and grinned.

"Let's not get ahead of yourself.” You raised your brows and leaned backwards.

“What a pleasant sight!” Hoìn marvelled when he walked by your table. “You two remind me just of his father and mother, they came here by a lot ya know.” You shared a short look with Fili. “Aye, this lad is a keeper!” He concluded with a big smile to you as he walked away to another table. You could do nothing but laugh, and felt a flutter in your chest and you noticed Fili's cheeks colored red.

“So you are more than familiar with this place.” You hinted.

“My father used to take my mother here when he was still alive.” Fili recalled. "So to me, this has been always a special place. Kili and I come here by a lot.”

“That’s such a sweet story.” You sympathized.

“Next time you should meet my brother, you would love him. If there’s going to be a next time of course.”

“I would love to meet him. And we shall see about that next time.” You teased. Fili chuckled.

Myla walked by with the wine and stew and placed it in front of you."Here you go dears!" She said sweetly.

“Thank you!” You both said in unison.

You both were enjoying the meal. Sharing a laugh and anecdotes about one another.

When you both were done you thanked Hoìn and Myla and left ‘The Joyful Goat’.

Fili suggested to walk you home, which you tried to refuse kindly. But Fili insisted.

You arrived at your home which had three steps in front of the front door, and while you stood on the highest step, Fili stood on the ground. You found your key and put it in the lock as you turned around to face him.

"Well, surprisingly you are not that terrible as I thought you'd be." You joked which he answered with a chuckle. "I had fun, and thank you for taking me out." You acknowledged.

"You really speak your mind don't you?" Fili laughed. "But, I had fun too."

You chortled softly. "Goodnight Fili". Shared one last glance and turned around to step inside your house.

“Wait!" Your head turned around from the sound of his voice. "When can I see you again?” He asked with a questioning gaze, and your heart melted a little.

“Well, let’s see about that.” You winked and closed the door behind you. Fili stood there for Mahal knows how long, maybe hours, debating if this was a yes or a no.

—————————

It’s been a few days since you last saw Fili. You really let him baffled, not giving him any closure. You told Alava about it, and she couldn’t believe you let him go.

Today you were busy helping a client who wanted a bouquet of roses and white lilies when you saw a familiar face entering your shop.

You looked up at him, smiling as if you knew he was up to something. The client gave you your coins and stepped away to leave the shop which was almost empty now.

“So, here we meet again.” You tittered, trying not to seem too eager while bundling a bunch of red lilies with a white ribbon.

“Yes, indeed we do.” He smirked he said as he walked towards you. “And you’re not alone I see.” You noticed as you looked curiously behind him.

“Yes, Y/N, this is my brother Kili.” You immediately recognized him as he stepped closer to you. “Nice to meet you Y/N!” He said as you shook his hand. “Likewise Kili!” Sure he was handsome just like his brother, but with a much more darker complexion. You never got the chance to study his face from up close. This was the cheeky one.

“So, this is the girl that you’ve been talking about!” Kili said amused." You chortled, "I hope i am!"

“I always wanted to meet the person who rejected my brother!” Kili joked. Fili punched him on the back and you could only laugh at the brotherly chemistry.

“Oh I did not exactly reject him.” You folded your arms and looked at the two brothers. “I just kept things open.”

“And can you close it now?” Fili said amused.

“I’m not closing anything right now.” You provoked.

"Oh Fee." Kili said. "I hate to break this intimate moment but we have to go now, you know how Dwalin thinks about being late for sparring time."

"Yes of course, let's go. Y/N I'll see you around, I hope." Sharing one last gaze with you and the two brothers walked towards te front door. Your eyes crinkled. “I hope so too.” Just before Fili closed the door he looked at you one last time, while you pretended no to see him. Trying to keep yourself occupied with the next bundle of lillies you could not resist to peek when he closed the door behind him.

Months have gone by, and Fili visited you almost every day. You even found yourself in the royal halls at times, and you were mesmerized every time you entered. Talking and blabbering about everything. Every time you saw him you became more and more fond of him. You could say he really was your friend, as well as Kili. Fili seemed to have let go of the whole 'One' thing and accepted the fact that you would never be a couple. That still didn’t mean he wasn't into you, sometimes annoyed by his ambiguous comments.

Today you were sitting in an open field with Kili. A place you visited ever since you were little. While sitting underneath a big oak tree you felt a warm breeze running over your skin.

“Where’s Fili?” You wondered.

“He had some important business to do with our Uncle, heir stuff probably.” Kili answered.

“Y/N I was wondering, how exactly did you meet Fili?” Kili wondered while he was lying down next to you, chewing on a piece of grass.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Wait, hasn’t he told you about it?” You mouthed.

Kili placed his arms underneath his head. “He didn’t tell me much about it, just that you two bumped into each other on the street.”

“What! He really told you that?” You chanted and sat right up.

“What happened then?” Kili asked, leaning on his elbows.

“Well, I was working in my shop just like every other day and suddenly he stood right in front of me asking me to court him!” You uttered.

Kili’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking right?” You shook your head while chuckling and he bursted out in laughter. The loudest you’ve ever heard. Tears welled up in his eyes. You could do nothing but join the laughter.

“Even I would never do something like that!” He exclaimed while drying his eyes. Kili couldn’t stop laughing. "Oh Mahal, so this idiot really likes you."

"So it appears." You nodded. “But I’m glad I went out with him even though the feelings weren’t exactly mutual, because now I have two amazing friends.”

“Yes I’m glad you did.” Kili confirmed, and you two lay down again, staring at the sun.

"Kee?"

"Mhmm?"

"About what I just told you, please don't let it go hard on him."

"Don't worry about it." Kili grinned. "I will."

You slapped him on his chest as your laughter followed.

“What’s so funny?” You heard footsteps on the tall grass, you recognized the voice in an instant when the person sat down next to you.

“Oh nothing Fee.” Kili tried to say trying to hold in his laughter. “Just thought about that time when you asked Y/N to court you when you never even met her once!” Kili joked and Fili’s cheeks turned crimson.

“I’m sorry Fee, I had to tell him.” You tittered.

“Alright alright, that happened ages ago!” Fili tried to brush it off.

The three of you lay down again, with Fili in the middle.

“So where have you been all day?” You asked curiously while you lay on your side, leaning your head on your hand.

“Yeah what have you been doing?” Kili repeated as he furrowed his eyebrows.

Fili looked at you, squinting his eyes from the sun. “Why so nosey?”

You shrugged. You knew why.

“Well, since Thorin complained about me not having a wife yet, he set up a meeting with a princess, a human nonetheless.”

“And? How did it go?” You spoke slightly bitter. You didn’t even notice the jealous tendency in your chest.

“Thorin was enthusiastic, but only for the sake of the Blue Mountains, not for love. She was beautiful, intelligent and thoughtful.” He said while staring at the sky. The envious sting in your chest became more painful.

“But?” You questioned and raised a brow.

“She wasn’t you.” He answered, gazing into your eyes. You smiled tender.

You didn’t really know where to look while trying to think of something witty to say, but nothing came to your mind.

“I honestly don’t understand why you two are not together.” Kili interrupted, you almost forget he was there too.

You both sighed, staring to the blue sky. "Excuse me, I have to go." Fili said as he stood up and walked away on the grass towards his pony. "Fee! Where are you going?" Kili yelled but Fili didn't answer. He jumped on his pony and rode away as you both watched him from afar.

That night you were laying in bed and you couldn't sleep. Your mind were like one giant cobweb of thoughts. Was he angry with you? The thought of him being with someone else terrified you. He was the only one who ever understood your sarcasm. You also thought about that time when he helped a kid when he fell down and scraped his knee. Or that time when you walked upon him shirtless when you visited him in the forges last week.

Or how is moustache moves when he speaks. And that dimple. Suddenly you loved everything about him and every little thing he did seemed more and more attractive.

In an instant you sat right up in your bed. And one main thought shot through your head. You loved him. "I love him." You repeated but speaking out loud this time. "I must tell him now."

So you kicked away your sheets, put on your easiest shoes put on your olive green cloak, threw open your front door. And there Fili stood, with his fist in the air from an attempt to knock. Was he feeling something too or was this a coincidence?

"I love you Fili." You grabbed his face and gazed in his eyes. "I already have from the start but I was too blind to see it." You gently intoned.

You gave him no chance to answer as you placed your lips on his. He answered your kiss and buried his hands in your hair.

You pulled back and placed your forehead to his.

“You are my One, you’ve always been.” You confessed. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip.

“I love you too Y/N.” He told you. “So would this be an appropriate time for me to ask to put a courting braid in your hair?”

You chuckled. “Yes, you may now.” You nodded as you bit your lower lip. “Come inside.” You said softly.

He followed you inside and closed the door behind him. Standing in your small living room, smiling as you turned around with your back towards him. He fiddled with your hair as he put a small bead at the end of the braid. You turned around to face him again and placed your arms around his neck as he put his arms around your middle.

“For someone who always knows what she wants, you were pretty oblivious." Fili spoke with a soft voice. "When did you realize?" He questioned.

"Five minutes ago." You laughed. He looked approving."Well, I'm glad you did."

"Let's go tell my uncle." He hummed.

You giggled. "It's past midnight."

"Wait, let's tell him tommorow." Fili agreed.

"I hope he won't kill you."

"He won't." He said with a smirk as he kissed you once more.

#filixreader #fili x reader #fili x you #kilixreader #kili x reader #imaginexhobbit #lotr #the hobbit #thorin x you #fanfic #drabble #fanfiction

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starmakerdotcom · 4 years

Text

summary : eli gathers the courage to ask the question he’s been wanting to for a while.

characters : elliot martin , daniel seo , cho minjae , rest of solar / botanica ensemble mentioned

genre : PURE fluff omg it’s so sweet

warnings : like usual just some swearing but other than that not much ? it’s a pretty sweet piece so idk

words : 2.9k

notes : if u want you can listen to the song i mentioned in that one line here ! i was listening to it on repeat while writing this hfjhb

[ august 2020 , 9:34 am , botanica dorms ]

“why are you so giddy this early in the morning?” daniel, who still looked half asleep, glared at elliot over his coffee cup from his place at the table, watching elliot bounce around the kitchen at a way earlier time than was probably socially acceptable. especially in their dorm on a day with no schedules.

elliot shrugged, “i’m just in a good mood,” he replied, smiling like an absolute dork.

daniel took a sip of his coffee, “you’re seeing minjae today, aren’t you?”

a few beats passed before elliot quietly replied, “...maybe,” turning away from daniel to hide the fact that he was blushing like an idiot. it was no secret that elliot and minjae had been hanging out almost every day since the time he nearly accidentally killed the shorter boy by putting his phone number in a piece of his cake, which minjae then ate and choked on (elliot had apologized profusely countless times for that). it didn’t take an idiot to realize that there was clearly something more going on, or something more about to start soon enough.

“you finally gonna ask him out?” daniel asked, still drinking his coffee.

“you know what? i think i am,” elliot said excitedly, bouncing up and down as his way of hyping himself up, “i think i’m gonna do it, whew, this is a lot of pressure.”

daniel laughed, “you’ll be fine, there’s no way he’s gonna say no.”

“how do you know?”

“have you seen the way he looks at you? come on, that tiny boy is whipped,” daniel said matter-o-factly.

elliot laughed through his nose, still blushing, “if that’s what you think... but how should i, like, ask him?”

daniel tilted his head, “you’ve dated people before, weren’t you like, an absolute stud in high school or something?”

“well- yeah,” elliot snorted, “but that was high school, this is different.”

“you’ll be fiiiiine,” daniel said, reaching his arm out in a motion meant to imitate him patting elliot on the shoulder, even though they were on opposite sides of the room and daniel was just patting the air in front of him. elliot appreciated the reassurance either way.

“can we change this music by the way,” elliot crinkled his nose in the direction of daniel’s tiny speaker on the table hooked up to his phone, “please, it makes me feel old. put on tame impala or something.”

looking extremely offended, daniel turned his music up instead, “don’t you dare talk about the greatest band ever like that, the beatles would surpass whatever cringey rappers you’re listening to today in literally anything.”

“at least the singers i listen to are still alive,” elliot retorted, and daniel gasped.

“whatever, i need to get ready anyways!”

“already? go back to bed or something,” daniel said, “it’s too early.”

“but i have so much i gotta do,” elliot started pacing again, “i gotta shower, get ready, gotta find my money so i can buy us food-“

“i’ve never seen you this excited about anything,” daniel laughed with an amused expression, “ever.”

“fuck off,” elliot grumbled, trying and failing to hide his flushed cheeks, only making daniel laugh even more.

[ 9:21 pm , a street corner ]

“it’s cold,” minjae shivered, looking up at elliot walking next to him, “can i hold the pizza?”

elliot might’ve bought an entire pizza just so minjae and him could have a late night picnic on a particular grassy hill next to their dorm building. which, admittedly was probably a strange sight for the other people walking around at that time of night, but neither of the boys cared.

“oh- yeah, here,” elliot handed the pizza box to minjae, who immediately sighed in relief at the feeling of warmth against his cold hands, “do you want my sweater too?” elliot asked, already hurriedly taking it off.

“no it’s-“ minjae was cut off by the sudden feeling of warmth around his shoulders, and when he looked up again elliot had taken his sweater off and draped it around minjae’s shoulders (what minjae didn’t know was that elliot had specifically picked out that sweater because he knew minjae liked it and he was excitedly anticipating this exact moment). “...fine,” minjae finished quietly, the small gesture lining the inside of his stomach with butterflies.

“right here, this hill!” elliot excitedly pointed to the hill ahead, “that’s where i was thinking we could sit and eat.”

minjae nodded, “sounds good.”

“well- i mean if you’re cold we can go in i just thought it’d be fun to have a late night picnic-“

“i like the idea too!” minjae quickly said.

elliot sighed in relief, he didn’t have a backup plan, and he really didn’t wanna eat an entire pizza with the boy he had a crush on in either of their dorms. “alright, come on!” he grabbed minjae’s hand and pulled him towards the hill. the shorter boy clutched the pizza box against his chest for dear life in an attempt not to drop it all over the grass as he let himself get dragged up the hill by elliot, jogging and laughing with him the whole time.

they finally reached a good spot on the hill to sit, and elliot collapsed on his back, followed closely behind by minjae, who carefully placed the pizza box on the ground before joining elliot in the grass sprawled on his back. for a second, minjae just stared up at the deep blue night sky, reaching out his hand and pointing out random stars to himself.

“what are you looking for up there?” elliot asked, staring at minjae with complete admiration in his eyes while minjae was focused on the sky.

“trying to find the big dipper,” minjae said quietly.

“can we even see it this time of year?”

“no clue, i just like looking at the stars sometimes.”

elliot, completely unaware of the huge smile on his face, whispered, “me too.”

“ALRIGHT,” minjae suddenly sat up, “let’s eat this damn pizza, i’m starving, i didn’t eat dinner because i knew we were getting this.” he ripped open the box and immediately dove for a slice, and elliot couldn’t help but laugh at how frantic the shorter boy was.

“do you wanna listen to music?” elliot suggested, “i just like listening to music sometimes, i dunno we don’t have to-“

“i like music,” minjae said confidently, “well, i mean, obviously,” he lost all his joking confidence in a second as he smiled sheepishly, “how about your music?”

elliot shrugged and took out his phone, “yeah, you can pick a playlist,” he said as he opened his phone and handed it to minjae to scroll through his playlists.

“this one looks interesting...” minjae mumbled as he clicked on a playlist called, ‘a wild fuckin party i went to once in highschool’ (the titles were all in english, so he couldn’t understand). elliot’s eyes widened when he realized that the first song that came on was deep throat by cupcakke. he seized his phone out of minjae’s hand and hit pause just before the song could finish its first recital of ‘HUMP ME, FUCK ME-‘

“how about something a little more... not explicit?” elliot suggested, laughing nervously. he gave his phone back to minjae, who instead picked out another playlist called, ‘songs to cry over my crush to’ (elliot thanked the heavens that minjae couldn’t understand that title). he breather a sigh of relief when 1980s horror film by wallows came on, a significantly less explicit song.

“i like this one,” minjae said after listening for a few seconds, “let’s keep it on.”

elliot shrugged, grabbing another piece of pizza. he’d almost forgotten what he was planning on telling minjae that night. oh well, he’d find a time. hopefully soon.

“damn it, i almost forgot,” minjae groaned, “curfew. i have to be back by ten.”

“we’re right here already, it’s fine,” elliot said, “what’s the harm in staying out a few minutes later?”

“i guess so,” minjae replied quietly, picking at the grass by his legs with his free hand, “i mean... who’s gonna find out, anyway?”

elliot nodded, staring off into the distance at some buildings down the street. unbeknownst to minjae, elliot was trying to plan out a way to confess to him right then, and then, if things went right, subsequently ask him out. he was never nervous like this before, even with being in countless short term relationships throughout middle school and high school, but in the grand scheme of things, those didn’t matter much. this felt way more serious than asking out the kinda cute girl that sat next to you in chemistry in the ninth grade because your friend dared you to (only for her to break up with you two weeks later. nice going, emily).

“hey... earth to yeollie,” elliot was shaken out of his daze by minjae waving his hand in front of his eyes. “i can’t eat this entire pizza by myself.”

elliot scoffed, “weak.”

“hey!” minjae pouted, “i’m- OH FUCK-“ he suddenly screamed, pointing frantically at elliot’s head.

“what- WHAT WRONG WHAT HAPPENED?”

“THERE’S A BIG GROSS BUG IN YOUR HAIR!” minjae slapped the top of elliot’s head repeatedly until elliot himself reached up and grabbed his hand.

“WHERE IS IT, I’LL GET IT.”

“I KILLED IT I THINK.”

“EUCGH IT’S PROBABLY ALL IN MY HAIR NOW!”

“STAY STILL!” minjae yelled as he reached again up to get the slightly squished bug out of elliot’s hair. “i said stay still dude,” he mumbled, scooting closer so he could see better in the dim light. because of the fact that minjae was basically legally blind even with his glasses on, their faces were inches away from each other while he struggled to fix elliot’s hair. the latter silently prayed that minjae couldn’t see how red his face had gotten in the dim light. but in return, elliot couldn’t see how hard minjae was blushing as well.

but just as elliot got the confidence to lean in and pucker his lips for a kiss, minjae turned around to flick the bug off his hand and scoot back to his original sitting position. “now that that’s done with...” minjae grabbed another piece of pizza and turned back around to face elliot while the latter felt a bit of his soul leave his body.

elliot picked up his phone off the ground, and when he saw that there were only a few minutes left until it turned 10pm (a.k.a. a couple minutes until minjae would start insisting going back inside because he was worried about getting in trouble for staying out too late), it felt like now or never, even though it obviously wasn’t.

minjae looked down at the time on elliot’s phone when he set it back down, “oh, it’s almost 10, we should really head back soon-“

fuck it.

“before we do that, can i just- tell you something?”

minjae quickly snapped his head up to look at elliot and nodded quickly, “yeah, of course.”

the brunette let out a shaky breath before he started, “so- remember that time i gave you my number?”

“you mean when you put it in my cake and i almost died because i choked on it?”

“i- okay, that’s a little dramatic.” he forced a laugh (which he immediately regretted).

“but, yeah, anyways?”

“right,” elliot continued, “so... fuck, how do i- fuck it- i like you, okay?”

a beat of silence passed with minjae looking at him, wide eyed, making elliot extremely aware of his own burning face in the process. “like... like, like?”

“yeah. like, like, like. a lot,” elliot didn’t think his face could get any redder.

“oh,” minjae said quietly. elliot thought he’d die of embarrassment, was that it? just oh? but then to elliot’s surprise, the redhead spoke again.

“well... me too.”

oh.

“oh,” elliot echoed minjae’s first response despite the fact that he was momentarily stressing over that single syllabled response seconds earlier. “okay, cool.” he internally cringed at his nonchalant response.

“so...” minjae began after a few more beats of extremely awkward silence, “what now?”

“well, what would you do if i asked you out, right here, right now?”

“i-“ minjae broke eye contact with elliot for just a second before looking back at him, “what?”

“okay,” elliot exhaled for the first time in what felt like an hour, “i meant- like, be my boyfriend, basically?”

“oh, wow,” minjae breathed out, and it didn’t take him that long to think about it before he replied, “okay.”

“okay, nice, cool,” elliot barely managed to hoarse out, “that went better than i expected.”

the redhead laughed awkwardly, “i thought it was kinda obvious that i liked you. i mean, everyone else knew. every time i said i was going to hang out with you jihoon would smile funny at me.”

“oh, i’m pretty sure daniel knew,” elliot said, remembering what the older had said to him that morning, although half asleep and fuelled only by a coffee that had more milk and sugar than actual coffee, elliot took it to heart.

“have you seen the way he looks at you? come on, that tiny boy is whipped.”

“alright... so what do we do now?” minjae asked, “are we supposed to like, kiss or something?”

“i mean...” elliot couldn’t help the huge dorky smile that spread across his bright red face, “if you want to.”

minjae reciprocated an equally huge and dorky smile as he scooted closer to elliot, even closer than when his blind ass was trying to get the bug out of elliot’s hair.

“ok so- how do i-“

“just like-“

“like this?”

“no, you’ve gotta-“

their noses bumped together while the two boys fumbled around, giggling awkwardly.

“whoops-“

“it’s okay, just-“

their lips finally met, but it’s more of an awkward peck on the lips than a proper kiss.

“have you ever kissed someone before?” elliot asked after whatever they had just tried to do.

minjae shook his head and answered, “nope,” honestly.

“okay, here, how about i just-“ elliot reached out his hands to gently cup minjae’s face, and pulled him in for a better, slightly more coordinated kiss. minjae’s stomach did a weird flip as be realized that the last thing he was expecting to happen that night was to be kissing his crush- or boyfriend now- on the side of a hill with a half eaten pizza box next to them.

as the two pulled away, minjae letting his eyes linger on elliot’s own for a few seconds, he wondered what the others would think when he got back, because he obviously wouldn’t be able to keep the secret that long. he’d probably get an excited, “aah! finally!” from elizabeth or yongmi, a significantly less enthusiastic, “i thought you two were already dating?” from either minjung, yeonwoo, or honghui, and probably a feigning disgust response of “keep your sappy shit out of this room,” from hyesoo or jihoon. he’d face that soon enough, anyway.

“ah, almost forgot,” minjae groaned, “curfew.”

“right,” as much as elliot wanted minjae to stay out there with him the entire night if they could, he knew the redhead wouldn’t want to risk getting in trouble due to breaking curfew, so instead, he said, “want me to walk you to your room?”

minjae nodded, pouting, “yes please.”

[ 10:04 pm, smk dorm building ]

“do you want the rest of the pizza?” minjae asked, holding out the box in elliot’s direction, “i had, like, four pieces, i think i’m good.”

elliot shrugged, “i won’t eat it, but tian probably will, or something.”

they’d reached the door to solar’s dorm, but both minjae and elliot were obviously trying to stall saying bye for the night. they’d been standing outside the door for a few minutes.

“i really should get inside...” minjae mumbled, the statement faltering towards the end like he was unsure.

elliot pouted, “oookay...”

“bye-bye,” minjae said quickly, standing on the tips of his toes to kiss elliot on the cheek. elliot immediately leaned down to press another soft kiss to minjae’s lips this time, and minjae’s stomach twisted in the same way it did the first time they’d kissed. he wondered if he’d get over that feeling of nervousness and excitement anytime soon.

“bye-bye,” elliot mimicked as minjae finally opened the door to his dorm at stepping inside, giving the taller boy one last smile before shutting the door behind him.

elliot made sure the door was closed, and then made his way down the hallway to his own room, but not before pumping his fist in the air and cheering out an almost inaudible “fuck yeah!”. completely unaware of minjae on the other side of the wall, leaning and then sinking down the wall into a sitting position, with a sigh of content and a huge grin on his bright pink face.

once he’d made it to his dorm, elliot opened the door rather loudly with a, “YO!” nearly scaring daniel to death, who was on the couch watching tv.

once daniel realized it was elliot and not someone breaking in, he asked, “so... how did it go?” but judging by the expression on elliot’s face, daniel was pretty sure he had his answer already. “he said yes?”

elliot nodded excitedly while taking off his shoes and placing the leftover pizza on the kitchen counter, and then immediately ran over to daniel’s spot on the couch and gave him a rather rough high-five.

“hell yeah bro!”

“let’s go!”

16 notes · View notes

sidereal-fantasies · 4 years

Text

Sincerely, Not You

[Choi San]

03: Transparency

WARNING(S): None (just one curse word)

College AU in which Choi San and many others receive letters that threaten to break their already fragile hearts

“Patience and pride have never worked together nor will they ever give you the answer you are searching for.”

A few days has passed since the rather coincidental meet up between you and San. With the new revelation that you had also received a mysterious letter, the aspiring writer has made it his mission to meet you again to inquire about this predicament. However, for as thoughtful as San can be, his plan only consisted of patiently waiting until you hunted him down yourself if the letter was deemed to be so significant to your being. A hopeless yearning to satisfy childish meddlesomeness, one would have told him. A death wish if that letter seemed important, another would have warned. Yet, San stayed determined to pull himself out of the ambiguity that he was left with in this situation even if your lack of reaction from the first morning class you two shared appeared a little discouraging.

“Maybe it wasn’t that important then,” Yeosang concluded as San and him strolled the streets in search of a quick bite between classes.

San hummed. “Maybe you’re right, but I say otherwise,” he retorted, causing the brunette to raise an eyebrow.

For as long as Yeosang knew San, any doubt that crossed San’s mind only meant that a reckless plan was brewing inside the depths of his ever-so-busy mind. Any effort to steer him towards a path with less collisions in the near future would be useless at this point. He was silently stubborn, as Yeosang had learned over the years. Too stubborn to move away from the daydreams that sometimes distracted him from reality. Too stubborn to step away from the harsh truth he presents himself with in a quiet manner. Disaster only waited for San if he continued on with this skewed perception.

“By the way, Mingi said something about [Name] the other day,” Yeosang stated.

“Mingi knows [Name] as well?” San began, “I didn’t know they were that popular.”

“It’s not really that they’re popular, but Mingi said [Name] and him actually used to attend the same school, which is odd if you ask me,” Yeosang explained.

It was indeed a little peculiar for San remembered that Mingi hailed from a well known dance academy. Though every school still had its general subjects, he knew that many who chose to attend any performing arts school were specifically set on committing to an unknown future filled with obstacles that would challenge faith, devotion, and work ethic for the field always remained unpredictable in a plethora of ways. Performing arts school was a place where many were able to unleash their creativity freely with no worries about the future however, and yet here was [Name], a computer science major who expressed no fantasy or daydream and who continued on with a plain lifestyle, contempt in the box they built around themselves. In the mind of San, [Name] was someone who struggled to grasp the concept that art is another world of its own that is meant to be explored with passion and fervor. A blank canvas ready to be splattered with unpredictability. [Name] couldn’t have come from any performing arts school.

“If they came from the same school, then how come one ended up as one of the top dance majors and the other didn’t pursue anything similar?” San inquired.

Yeosang shrugged his shoulders. “I’d ask the same thing. I left it at that, though, because I wasn’t entirely invested in the idea that Mingi and [Name] had attended the same school before.”

San let a soft sigh pass his lips. Every unanswered question will eventually seek out its response. It just takes a little patience, which San was all too familiar with not possessing as much as his friend beside him.

“Another story to be unraveled, then—“

“Choi San!”

San immediately scrunched his nose in displeasure at the sudden echo of his full name.

“Seems that I need to take my leave now,” Yeosang teased. San rolled his eyes at the brunette before he stopped and turned to face your approaching form.

Your face remained impassive as you immediately extended your hand out to the ravenette. “I know you have my letter, so can I have it back?” You asked. A tiny simper pulled at the corners of San’s lips.

“You mean this?”

San held the envelope addressed with your name in front of you. “Quite an interesting thing to receive. Admirer?”

“No,” you answered bluntly, causing San to chuckle slightly. Your eyes quickly scanned over the envelope before you began reaching out to retrieve it only to have San hold it out of your reach. “What are you trying to do this time, San?”

It was a risky thought, for sure, but San craved to satisfy the ever increasing curiosity that plagued his mind. So, San held your letter in front of you with one hand before he began to rummage around his backpack with his other hand. He then pulled out a similar envelope with his own name scribbled in the middle of it.

“Seems like I got the same thing. How about we open it together?” San suggested.

You pressed your lips together, contemplating the offer as your fingers slowly wrap around your own envelope. Neither of you knew what the contents were inside, leaving endless possibilities of what it could be. Yet, it surely could be just that; admirers that felt the need to go the old fashion route to reveal a loveless confession. There was nothing wrong with writing a letter for it was a completely normal gesture of those who idolized the idea of cheesy romance built upon the everlasting influence of rom-cons, drama shows, and coming-of-age films. A waste of paper, you would have scoffed. But, perhaps it could turn into an inside joke, or another step into a steady friendship, granted you and San had a similar response to romantic gestures like love letters.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Okay,” you responded, “we’ll open it and if we want to, we can talk about it.”

San beamed as he immediately ran a finger under the flap, ripping it open to reveal a similar off-white piece of paper folded inside. You carefully tore your’s open, pulling the flap gently before slipping the letter out of the confinement with a great amount of care.

“If it is just… admirers, what are you going to do?” you inquired. Out of your watchful gaze, you saw San’s broad shoulders shrug in response.

“Who knows,” he spoke as he quickly unfolded his letter. “Will you let me read your’s if it’s just that?”

“Who knows,” you mimed as you unfolded your letter as well.

An uncomfortable silence ensues within the first few lines of each letter, leaving you and San struggling to formulate any sentences as your gazes continuously scan over the letters. Visible gulps, shaky hands, and plastered frowns were the only things that your bodies could do to communicate that these letters were certainly not love letters. With just a few words, it seemed that the invisible pride you both held on for so long crumbled into dust.

“Did… did you write this?” You questioned in a low tone. San vigorously shook his head as he bit down on his lower lip. “Of course not. Did you?”

A shallow laugh escapes you as you crumple the letter into a ball suddenly. “That’s a lame question considering you’re the one who called me out for my lack of ability to even type an essay.”

Former romantic sounds just like you, though, San wanted to voice, pressing his lips into a thin line. For the ebony-haired student, it wasn’t hard to guess what kind of view you had on things that you would possibly deem as trivial and not worth the time to ponder over. As complicated as you presented yourself as, San knew for a fact that the mere idea of fidelity stirred a deeply rooted discomfort within you. Yet, you were so narrow minded when it came to a simple essay the other day. Doubt suddenly crossed his mind as his grip tightened. It makes perfect sense, he thought. The restrained view, the subtle dislike towards anything that could be understood as pushing the boundaries as friends; it had to be you.

“Will you still let me read that letter?” He carefully asked.

You peered down at the crumpled ball of paper in your hand before handing it over to San. “Do what you want with it. I have to leave now.”

“[Name]!”

You immediately turned back on your heel the moment San’s hand grips your wrist.

“Do you know who Song Mingi is?”

Well, shit. Your eyes shift elsewhere for a quick second before meeting San’s stern gaze once more. “He’s one of the dance team captains along with Jeong Yunho and Jung Wooyoung—“

“That’s not the answer I wanted,” San interrupted, gaze never faltering for even a second. “Let me try again. Do you know who Song Mingi is?”

A lump started to form within your constricting throat. “We attended the same high school, more or less. Why?” you asked as your free hand rested on the back of your burning neck.

“Do you want to tag along with me this weekend and meet up with him?”

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not you wanted to rip your wrist out of San’s iron grip. Your conscious was dancing on thin ice by now, carefully testing which idea would keep you from falling into the freezing water. It’s been a little over a year since you’ve last seen Mingi. It was unpredictable knowing how the dancer would react to seeing you on the same campus as him for you took so much caution to avoid the fiery haired man as much as possible. Fate, as it seems, had a way with making your future unclear.

“I’ll… I’ll give you my number then,” you finally answered.

San’s hand slipped away from your wrist just as the two of you breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m sure he’s been wanting to catch up with you for the longest time,” he assured you as he held his phone out to you. You could only force a polite smile though as your fingers reluctantly wrapped around San’s phone. Your patience was already thinned out as it is and your pride was shot, yet the universe remained unsatisfied with your pitiful state of mind. Hopelessly, you found yourself tumbling down a path full of misfortune and misery with San being the cataclysm of it all.

“It’s easy to tell you’re upset,” San noted as he took his phone back from you. You arch your eyebrows in response before motioning for the genius writer to continue.

“Stop worrying about it if it’s the letter. I’ll burn it if it makes you happy,” San chuckled softly.

“I… Look, I’ll just get going to my next class. Text me the details later and then I’ll decide whether or not I want to go,” you exhaled.

San remained wordless as he watched you scurry off with a frown etched into your features. He didn’t dare to say anything afterwards, knowing that it was probably best to leave the bitterly frustrating conversation unfinished. It was for the best, he noted. For both you and himself as he looked down to the creased paper known as your letter. Boundaries were tested and San had to face the fact that he may have pushed them too much for comfort. Nevertheless, he could say that he had, at least, tried. However, his curiosity remained and thrived, buzzing like a swarm of bees within his inner thoughts and consciousness.

The mysterious ink that stained your crumpled letter and caused your internal conflict was eventually shoved into the front pocket of his bag without another thought being dedicated towards it. His own letter followed suit with an exhausted breath escaping his lips. Perplexing, he would have remarked. Perplexing for a person who’s feelings are as transparent as glass.

“Let it be a mystery, then, [Name]. For both you and me to solve.”

#ateez #atzinc #atzwriters #ateez san #ateez choi san #choi san #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez blurbs #kpop #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop blurbs #Sincerely Not You #choi san fanfic

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dyde21 · 4 years

Text

Mistletoe

So @granger-chase made a post about wanting a mistletoe fic, then @annabetncnase reblogged it wanting one, and I got inspired. Then that inspiration turned into a lot longer story than I planned for anyway here’s this: I thought the fandom could use a little more Percabeth Christmas Goodness! :D I hope ya’ll enjoy!

XxXxXxXxX

“If you change the playlist, I’m drop kicking your Playstation out the window, Jason.” Percy called out as he heard the Christmas carol pause, before resuming a moment later, if not a little quieter.

“Can’t you choose something less… boring?” He asked, walking around the corner of their small apartment. Raising an arm he leaned against the wall, staring at his roommate. Percy just ignored him as he ripped open another bag of chips, dumping them into one of the few tupperwares they had. “Grab the sodas.” He ordered, walking past Jason towards the tiny kitchen table that usually served little more purpose than a coat rack, aside from the occasional last minute, panicked study session.

For once though, it was actually cleaned off properly, and he had even grabbed a tablecloth from his mom to borrow for the night.

“It’s a Christmas party, Jason. We’re supposed to play carols.” He explained, snagging a chip and eating it before turning to face his best friend.

Jason grabbed a chip himself, rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, tis’ the season and all of that. But there could be a little more pep, you know?”

Percy paused, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe you’re right? Maybe modern stay stuff works better?” He paused, thinking for a moment. “But Hazel is coming over too so I don’t want to play too messed up stuff.” He glanced up at Jason, looking for help.

Jason’s usual cocky smirk faded as he looked over. “Hey, I was just complaining. You’re fine, I’m sure they’ll love it.”

Percy nodded. “That’s cool then…” He trailed off, glancing over the table of snacks and sodas. “Think we need more? I know Piper and Annabeth said they were bringing food but…”

Jason walked over, resting a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Hey man, chill. Alright? Everything is fine. We still have some time and we’re just hanging out with some friends. I know you’re getting stressed.”

Running a hand through his hair, Percy shook his head. “I’m not stressed, I just want to make sure things are… right.”

Jason gave him a deadpan stare, making it clear he wasn’t falling for his crap. “Dude, your leg is bouncing as you’re freaking out over whether or not we have enough chips when I don’t think we’ve had this much food in our house in a month.”

Staying quiet, Percy couldn’t exactly refute him. He knew himself well enough to know that his stress was starting to peak. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Pulling out a chair, Jason sat down and slid the other chair back with his foot, motioning for Percy to sit down as he took another chip. “Talk.”

Resisting only for a moment, Percy sighed and sat down, dropping his head into his hands. “I know, I’m stressing out. Sorry. I’ve just… never had a party or something like this. Usually my mom took care of things when I had friends over. Plus she’s coming over.”

“She’s been over countless times.” Jason offered, letting his friend continue to get out what he needed to.

“Right. But… I want tonight to be the night. It’s been so stressful around her. You know… since…”

“Since you fell in love with your childhood friend?” Jason helpfully offered, laughing at the stricken look Percy got on his face. “Don’t say it so loud!”

Jason rolled his eyes and dipped a chip in the onion dip. “Yeah, I almost forgot it’s the worst kept secret in the world.”

Glaring the blonde, Percy narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice?”

Shrugging, Jason returned the look. “I am, dude. When I met you two you were practically joined at the hip, and I’ve never seen that change in all these years. But since you started…” He paused at Percy’s glare. “...thinking differently about her, you’ve been stressing out over the little things, freaking out for no reason, and frankly we’re all getting a little worried about you. What you need a push in the right direction, for your sake.”

Percy knew his friend wouldn’t lie to him. After Annabeth, Jason was his best friend for sure.

“I know it’s cliche but I really don’t want to screw things up between us. Even if she might feel something too… I don’t want to do it wrong. I wish I could handle things as well as she does. She’s still so… perfect. ”

Jason rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. His girlfriend was Annabeth’s roommate, and he had heard first hand how objectively false that statement was. Percy was a victim of being hopelessly in love, which meant he had a habit of missing out on obvious things about Annabeth. The way her usual fluid speech tended to get flustered around him, or the way she had gone from a comfortable companionship with Percy, to jumping at the chance to be with him as eagerly as percy was. Even the way her eyes always were always drifting to him, with a soft smile he never saw her wear any other time.

It was painfully obvious these two dorks were head over heels for each other, but were too scared to admit it. What really drove Piper and Jason crazy were that they were pretty sure they both knew it as well. After all, they did know each other better than anyone.They were just choosing to ignore it, writing it off as them just being their usual friend.

Still, if Jason had to catch them being a moment away from kissing without going through with it again, he was about going to lock them in a closet until they were engaged.

“Trust me. She’s got it as bad as you do. Tonight is the perfect opportunity to do it right.”

Percy looked up at him. “You think?”

Jason laughed. “I’m pretty sure you could confess behind a 7/11 and she’d still say yes dude. You just need to actually go for it.”

Percy nodded. “Maybe you’re right…”

Jason could sense his hesitation, but also the spark of confidence in him. Maybe tonight all of them could finally be put out of their misery. “Come on, we still need to put up these lights.” He said, grabbing a box of small tree lights and tossing them at him.

Percy nodded, clearly grateful for something to do other than think and started to move to a corner to figure out how they were going to attach them to the walls without damaging them while Jason pulled out his phone. He sent a quick text to Piper.

XxXxXxXxX

“Do you think this is enough food?” Annabeth asked, pacing back and forth as she looked at the two pizzas, the bowl of pasta salad, and a tray of brownies for dessert.

Piper raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? Even with the appetite of Jason and Percy, there aren’t that many other people there. We’re bringing plenty and Hazel said she’s bringing Jambalaya, and Leo was bringing his famous tacos. We have plenty, stop stressing.”

Annabeth nodded. “Right. That’s fair. I don’t have to eat if we start running low too.”

She paused, looking down at herself. “Are you sure I look okay?”

Scoffing, Piper glanced at her best friend up and down once again. “Please, I dress you you myself. You look cute, don’t worry.”

The blonde nodded again, twice. “You’re right. Thank you.”

Piper just shrugged. “If I left it up to you, you’d still be standing in front of the closet.”

Annabeth flushed slightly, running a hand through her hair. “I just wanted to look nice, is that so bad?”

Piper paused, noticing the slightest hint of hesitation in her voice that made the joke seem a little less innocent than normal.

“You’re fine. Any reason you’re so nervous though?” She asked, not so subtly opening the door for the conversation she knew they would be having before they left at some point anyway.

Pausing, Annabeth opened her mouth to deny it before she dropped her head against the wall.

“Tonight could be… something.”

Piper was stunned, Annabeth was usually full of a lot more denial, or subtle about her “crush” on her best friend. If you could still call it a crush based off how long she’s had it and how much it had been distracting her lately.

“Are you going to confess?” She asked gently.

Annabeth hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t… probably not… I just. I just think Percy might… being thinking the same thing of me.”

Piper screamed internally. Her friend was one of the smartest people she knew and so incredibly dense at times it hurt. She was glad Annabeth was working through her fear of being rejected or abandoned by him to take the next step, but if she spent a minute not being lost in his eyes, she would be able to see how adorably head over heels he was for her. The number of times she had seen the poor boy practically collapse in on himself with regret when he let a chance to kiss her slip by, or he fumbled his words.

“I’m… glad you’re starting to see that.” Piper said carefully, reigning in her own frustration at the fact her two best friends were depriving themselves of happiness out of pointless fear. Annabeth could be touchy at times so she knew she had to tread carefully. “Just remember, Percy has fallen for you, the person whose been by his side longer than anyone. Don’t try and change yourself. He’s seen you at your best, and at your worst and he’s still by your side. All you need to do is reach out a hand and he’ll meet you there.” She offered gently.

Annabeth fell quiet as she let the words sink in.

Piper leaned down a bit to get a better look at Annabeth’s expression. She saw a mix of determination and concern. A look Piper often saw her with whenever she tried, and usually failed, to take the next step with Percy.

Her phone buzzed, and when she checked it she saw Jason’s text and grinned. It seemed like the stars were aligning for things to finally happen tonight. Typing out a quick response, she moved over to Annabeth. “We have a little time before we need to head over. Let’s squeeze in an episode of The Great British Bake Off before we head over so you can relax. This is supposed to be a fun christmas party, remember?”

Annabeth stared at her, and nodded after a moment. “Yeah.” She said slowly, grateful for the moment ceasefire on her lovelife.

They moved over to the couch, and a few moments later they were lost into the episode.

Glancing down at another text from Jason, she grinned. Tonight would be a bit night if their idea worked.

XxXxXxXxX

The sound of a few knocks on their door had Percy heading over to it too quickly. He opened it, shoving down the pointless nerves he felt.

The door had only been open a minute before Piper had shoved a bowl of pasta salad into his hands that had been balanced awkwardly on the pizza boxes as they made their way up the stairs before.

“Trick or treat.” She said with a wink as she walked past him, setting down the boxes she carried before throwing her arms around Jason’s neck to share a kiss with him.

Annabeth was standing awkwardly in the doorway. Her arms were full of the rest of the food as she looked at Percy. “Hey. Merry Christmas.”

Percy grinned at her, before his gaze drifted upwards to see the santa hat she had on. Adorable. Blinking once, he realized he hadn’t answered her yet. “Merry Christmas, Wise Girl. Now come on, I need you to prove my point to Jason about chips.”

Annabeth looked confused, but nodded and followed him, closing the door behind her.

“Jason says plain Lays chips are better than Ruffles.”

Annabeth looked horrified and made an indignant sound. “Are you kidding me?”

“Right?” Percy agreed.

The blonde woman crossed her arms, glaring at Jason. “How could you say that? Ruffles have texture, are much better with any kind of dip, and are actually more than just salt.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t drag your best friend in to win your arguments for her.”

Percy took a bite of a Ruffles to make a point. “If you weren’t so stubborn I wouldn’t need to bring in the big guns.”

Piper leaned up and kissed Jason’s cheek. “Sorry hun, but they’re right about this one.”

Jason huffed and moved over to the couch, plopping down on it and looking away.

Both Annabeth and Piper laughed, as Piper moved over and sat next to him, messing up his hair and chatting with her pouting boyfriend.

Percy glanced over at Annabeth as she made her way over to him. “You guys actually did a good job decorating and cleaning, I’m impressed.” She teased.

Around the room various Christmas decorations had been put up. Tinsel was hanging from most things, they had a tree propped up in the corner that was decorated in pure chaos. There was a random assortment of reindeer paraphernalia across various surfaces.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Percy grinned. “I’m glad you liked it. It took us a while.” He paused. “I’m glad you dressed for the occasion.” He said, nodding his head towards her santa hat.

Annabeth laughed. “You know me, Ms. Christmas Spirit.” She countered.

“You say that like it’s a joke.”

Percy challenged, knowing full well how much she actually enjoyed the holidays.

Going to take another chip he dipped, Annabeth’s hand shot out as she grabbed the chip from him and ate it, grinning at him. “It’s the season for giving.” She said to his scandalized expression.

He was clearly about to protest when someone knocked on the door again.

He gave her a glare letting her know that it wasn’t over, before he moved over to the door.

When he opened the door he saw Frank and Hazel standing there, all bundled up and smiling. He shared a quick hug with Hazel before bumping Frank’s fist as the lead them in.

Not much longer after, their group finished getting there as they spread out across the apartment. The carols had been turned up, and Leo was currently belting along with Mariah Carrey as his girlfriend laughed next at him.

“Tyler and Ashe aren’t coming?” Annabeth asked, leaning on Percy’s shoulder as she looked over at Piper.

Piper shook her head. “Nah, they had made plans already apparently.” She said, before turning her phone around and showing Percy and Annabeth an instagram post. Tyler and Ashe were kissing, standing in front of a display of lights that Percy recognized to be at the zoo.

Annabeth laughed. “There is zero chance they aren’t engaged by our next christmas party.”

Percy nudged her hips. “I’ll be amazed if they aren’t engaged by spring.”

Jason laughed. “Sounds like we need a new bet.”

One round of betting later, and soon they were chilling on one of the couches. Percy was devouring yet another slice of pizza, while Annabeth worked on a bowl of Jambalaya, her legs draped over Percy’s lap.

He was currently chatting with Jason about a new game that had been announced, giving Annabeth a chance to just see him laughing and smiling and she couldn’t do anything but smile.

Eventually turned back to look at her, causing her to shove a spoonful of food into her face to try and look like she wasn't just staring at him.

Behind them, Jason and Piper shared a look as Piper got up, moving to their balcony outside for a moment.

Jason stood up a minute later.

“Percy, do me a favor, come with me for a second?”

Percy glanced at Annabeth, before nodding and untangling his legs from her. He followed Jason off to one of their rooms for a moment while Piper came back and moved over to Annabeth. “Okay, Annabeth. I need you to trust me.”

“No.” She replied instinctively, making Piper roll her eyes. “Then trust Percy.”

“Why?” Annabeth asked, red flags instantly being raised.

“Look, he prepared a surprise for you tonight. Jason told me about it, but we need you to stand up and close your eyes.”

Annabeth paused for a moment.

Piper’s voice went softer. “Please?”

Sighing, Annabeth figured she might regret this later but stood up anyway and closed her eyes.

“Good. I promise nothing bad will happen. Besides, I still live with you so I don’t want you mad at me.” She said, before gently resting her hands over Annabeht’s eyes from behind and started leading her. “Just walk, trust me.”

“I know exactly where you sleep.” Annabeth warned as she let Piper lead her. A minute later it was a little chillier and she realized she was on the balcony. “Just where are we going?”

“Just wait a minute, it’s almost ready.”

Piper stepped back for a moment, leaving Annabeth shivering slightly as she thought of all the ways she’d make Piper’s life a living hell if this was a trick. A second later she heard Percy’s voice and her heart rate spiked.

“Where are you leading me? I never trust you, dude.”

Percy’s voice sounded just as confused as her. A moment later she heard him stumble next to her. “This better be worth it, Jason.” His voice sounded right next to her, making her jump. “Percy?”

“Annabeth?” They both asked, as they heard the sound of a door being slid shut.

Annabeth opened her eyes to see… nothing special. They were just out on the balcony.

Percy opened his a moment later and looked at her expectantly. “So…?”

“So? I thought you had a surprise.” Annabeth countered.

“But they said…” The gears turned in Percy’s head. “I’m kicking his ass.” Percy said as he turned, before pulling on the door and trying to step through.

Instead, the door didn’t budhe and he slammed into the glass.

“Don’t tell me…”

Annabeth said after a moment.

Percy dropped his head against the class. “It’s locked. I’m actually going to kill him.”

He turned around and leaned on the balcony. “Great. Locked out of my own party.”

Annabeth nudged him with her hip. “If it makes you feel better, I got locked out too.”

He shook his head. “Of course it doesn’t. You’re the one person I trust to keep them in check.”

“Why do you think they did it?” Annabeth asked after a moment. If they bothered with this dumb prank, they had to have a reason. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Piper staring back at them with an amused, if not slightly apologetic look. And a finger pointing straight up.

Glancing up, Annabeth’s stomach dropped.

Hanging above the sliding door was a mistletoe.

“You’re kidding me. That little bi-”

“Are you serious?”

Percy said as he saw it too.

They glanced at each other, before they both flushed red and looked back out at the skyline.

“I’m burning her present.” Annabeth said after a moment.

“I’m dropping his down the fire escape.” Percy countered, before they both started laughing. “We’ll get them back for this sometime.”

“Naturally.” Percy agreed.

Annabeth shivered slightly and she felt Percy’s jacket drape over her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, but won’t you be cold.”

He shrugged. “We won’t be out here long but you get cold easily.”

Annabeth sighed. “I guess we know what we need to do.”

Percy’s face was red, and Annabeth was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the cold. “I guess.”

He turned to face her, and Annabeth’s pulse was pounding. They tried their best to ignore all of the eyes watching them.

They stared at each other for a moment, before they started to move closer.

Annabeth’s eyes closed as she tried not to panic over the fact that she was about to kiss her crush.

“Wait.”

Her eyes flew open at his words. Instantly it felt like a sword had pierced her heart. Her fears were true, Percy didn’t see her that way. “I-” Before she could try and come up with anything to say that wouldn’t end in tears, Percy continued.

“I can’t do this.”

She nodded her head, feeling tears well up in the corner of her eyes. “I know. I’m so-”

“Annabeth!” He snapped, making her look up surprised.

“I can’t kiss you like this. I… like you too much. I love you. But I don’t want you to kiss me just because they are forcing you to. My heart can’t handle that. You deserve bet-”

“Percy!” She interrupted, her brain melting. “Did you say you love me?”

He nodded, unable to meet her eyes. “For a while now. I just…”

“I love you too.” Annabeth blurted out before her courage could fail her. “For so long. But I wasn’t sure… I didn’t know if…”

They stared at each other for a moment while Piper’s words echoed in her head.

Just reach out a hand.

Slowly Annabeth reached out a hand, and found Percy’s entwining with it.

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his as they shared their first real kiss. It was brief, and they looked at each other for a moment, before they leaned forward again and kissed each other in the cold night air. Annabeth’s other hand slipped up into Percy’s hair while his wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

Time seemed to fade away, and she felt warm in the cool night air next to him.

They kissed for a minute more before they separated as they caught their breath.

Percy had her new favorite goofy smile on his face as he kissed her nose briefly. “I think we can go back in now.”

“They can wait.” Was Annabeth response as she leaned in for another long anticipated kiss.

All Percy did was hum his agreement into their kiss as Annabeth was pretty sure she loved the holidays even more now.

XxXxXxXxX

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! It was just a short cute little story for me! :D I hope ya’ll have a wonderful holiday season!

If you feel like it, please check out my Christmas sale on my Art Commissions! It’d really help me afford to get my friends and family a little nicer gifts this year, and I’d love to make some art for ya’ll! You can find them HERE

#Percabeth #Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase #PJO #HoO #Christmas Fic #I WROTE THIS :D

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years

Text

Baby You Were My Picket Fence [Chapter 5: Paradise City]

You are a first grade teacher in sunny Los Angeles, California. Ben Hardy is the father of your most challenging student. Things quickly get complicated in this unconventional love story.

Song inspiration: Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter warnings: Language, some sexual content (not smutty).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @blushingwueen @queen-turtle-boiii @everybodyplaythegame @onceuponadetectivedemigod @luvborhap @sincereleygmg @stormtrprinstilettos @loveandbeloved29 @ohtheseboysilove @jennyggggrrr @vanitysfairr @bramblesforbreakfast @radiob-l-a-hblah @xox-talia-xox @killer-queen-xo @caborhapch @kimmietea @asquiresofftime @hardzzellos @sleepretreat @ramibaby @jonesyaddiction @ixchel-9275 @omgitsearly @lovepizza-cake11 @deacy-dearest @shishterfackisback @mrbenhardys @deaky-with-a-c If I forgot anyone, please yell at me :)

The blue chalk moves swiftly with shrill little squeaks over the board. You’re dressed in a floral red dress, leggings, sensible sable flats, and fuzzy woolly mammoth earrings. The kids love to see what sort of eccentric accessories you wear each day; there’s even a space on the board reserved for it. Today’s flair is: woolly mammoth earrings! (Please don’t touch unless you ask first!!)

“Okay my lovely children, let’s practice using each of this week’s spelling words in a sentence. Who can remind me what the first word on our spelling list is?”

“Oh! Oh!” Brendyn—who you mentally mix up with Brayden or Kayden at least twice a day—leans out of his chair and waves his arm hysterically. Dear god, please send a plague to wipe the unnecessary Y baby name trend off the face of the planet. “I can!”

“Go ahead, Brendyn.”

“Throw,” he announces proudly, as if he’s just won the Olympic medal for elementary-school writing.

“Awesome job! That’s right!” You transcribe it on the board: 1. Throw. “And who thinks they can come up with a sentence using the word throw?”

Eli, as he’s doodling all over his worksheet, says: “If you don’t like someone, you can throw them out of a window.”

You swallow noisily as you collect your thoughts. The other students are alternately giggling cautiously or gasping, scandalized. “Now, Eli...”

“Yes, Miss Teacher?” he prompts.

“It’s nice to raise our hands and wait to be called on when we have something to share.”

“Oops.” He raises his hand.

You sigh heavily. “Could you come up with a different sentence, please? One that is more school-appropriate? Remember we had a whole talk last week about school-appropriate topics. Right class?”

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N!” they agree in unison. That conversation hadn’t, perhaps shockingly, been inspired by Eli. A chatty, beach-blond, future surfer bro named Dexter had discovered his father, a prominent cinematographer, in a compromising position with the nanny—in the jacuzzi tub, no less—and felt the need to divulge that during Story Sharing Time. Worst parent phone call ever.

“Give it another try, Eli,” you say encouragingly.

“Taking spelling tests makes me want to throw up.”

You drop your face into your hands as the class howls in laughter. “Okay, very funny, but I still think we can come up with something more appropriate. Does anyone else have an idea?”

Maisy raises her hand timidly. Oh, hallelujah.

“Yes, Maisy!”

“Always remember to throw away your trash.”

“Wonderful!” You write the sentence on the board. “No littering. I like it. Save the sea turtles. Maisy, as a reward, you may give Creampuff one pumpkin seed.”

“Yay!” Maisy leaps out of her seat and sprints to Creampuff’s cage behind your desk. It’s your third year teaching with Creampuff, and the poor hamster is decisively in geriatric territory; she’s morbidly obese and her eyes are bluish with cataracts. But the children adore her, and Creampuff has always been wonderfully sweet and never bites. You just hope that when the time comes, she has the decency to kick the bucket over a long weekend so you can dispose of the body in secret and whip up a cheery story to tell the kids about how Creampuff went to live in an organic vegan farm or a hamster sanctuary or a retirement community in sunny Tampa Bay, Florida.

“Okay friends,” you announce. “Go ahead and practice coming up with sentences on your worksheet. Then we’ll chat in five or ten minutes and see what we’ve got. Ready, set, go!”

As students’ heads bow and pencils begin scratching against paper, you circle the room peeking over shoulders and making suggestions here and there. When you reach Eli’s desk, you crouch down so your gaze is level with his.

“Hey, Eli.”

“Hi,” he replies mistrustfully, his blue eyes narrow under dark curls.

“I just wanted to let you know that I thought your sentence ideas were very funny and very, very clever. But they just weren’t the best choices to use in class. Do you understand why?”

“Yeah,” he says, smirking a little. Of course you do, you’re the smartest kid in here.

“And I really appreciated you raising your hand to speak once you were reminded.”

“Thanks.” He’s actually bashful now, his high olive-skinned cheeks flushing.

“Are you still going to help me clap the erasers after class today?”

His eyes light up like wildfire. “Can I?”

The trap’s been sprung. Clapping erasers is like cocaine for first graders. “You betcha. If the rest of our spelling lesson goes smoothly.”

“Okay!” He immediately picks up his pencil and begins jotting down sentences. The handwriting is definitely a work in progress, but Eli’s spelling and grammar are immaculate. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you walk away; you’re feeling triumphant, of course, but there’s something else as well.

I’m proud of you, demon kid.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ben is standing on your doorstep, dressed in black, a potted calla lily in his hands. And at first he’s got that unnerving veneer, he’s serious and intimidating and smoldering; but then you find his eyes and his smile breaks open like cracked glass.

“Hi,” he says meekly.

“Hi.” You point to the calla lily. It’s a vivid green, like his eyes, like the serrated continents of the Earth from space. “Is that for me?”

“Yes, actually. It’s a gift, but it’s kind of a joke too.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s fake.” He grins. “So you can’t kill it.”

You laugh and take the pot, leaning back so the silk calla lily doesn’t tickle your nose, doesn’t rub against your makeup. “Come on in, Mr. Hardy.” Ben follows you, his hands in his jacket pockets, peering around watchfully. You find a temporary home for your new plant on the kitchen counter, right next to your latest purchase; you rest your hand, not-so-subtly, on the brand new, mint green, vintage record player. “Check this bad boy out.”

“Wow!” Ben leans down to examine it, running his fingertips over the turntable. Then his eyes flick to the box of vinyl records. “And you’ve already got listening material!”

“Lots of Queen, you’d totally approve.”

“Zeppelin?”

“Naturally.”

He flips through the records quickly: The Eagles, The Stones, Guns N’ Roses, The Beatles, The Cars, Aerosmith, Cheap Trick, Fleetwood Mac, U2, Hendrix, Elton, Nirvana. “Love it. I’m pumped. How much did all of this cost you?”

You crinkle your nose in lighthearted defiance. “It’s rude to talk about money, Mr. Hardy. Not a lot. Amazon is an amazing thing. And I’ve been collecting records for years. Yard sales, thrift shops, wherever. Some of them were my parents’ before I commandeered them.”

“I’ll ask again.” He takes out his wallet and starts counting bills, the paper shuffling in his hands. “How much for the record player? Estimate the rest.”

“Ben,” you protest, dismayed.

“Y/N,” he teases.

“You can’t buy everything for me,” you say gently.

“I’m not buying. I’m renting. I get to choose what to play whenever I’m here.” He unfolds $300 and lays it on top of the record player. “Will that cover it?”

You gape at the money. Yes, that’s about right. “Ben...I’d let you request music for free.”

“I don’t want requests. I want everything.” And then he grins, and it almost rips the floor out from under you. Oh god, I love this man.

You’ve never said those words aloud. You’ve never talked about his refrigerator magnet confession. But it’s somewhere in the space between you like a circling ghost, like a promise, like shared blood singeing under flesh.

“But,” Ben says, bringing you back into focus. “For now we should probably get going.”

“Right.” You grab your purse and jacket as Ben calls an Uber. “Where are we meeting them, anyway?”

He winks at you, his face illuminated by the glow of his cellphone screen. “Not the fucking Olive Garden.”

The Uber is a BMW with leather seats and a minibar installed in the backseat. As it cruises through downtown L.A., Ben tells you about how Joe has an apartment in the city, how Rami splits his time between his loft here and another in New York, how devout Londoner Gwilym is in town for work. You down a tiny Absolut Vodka to ease your nerves. “And when do I get to see your place, Mr. Hardy?”

He chuckles noncommittally. “We’re here,” he declares, glancing up through the BMW’s tinted windows. Outside is an upscale nightclub called The Edison. Then he turns to you. “Two things,” he says, holding up his index and middle fingers. There’s a gold ring on each. “First, don’t forget about the low profile.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult since we’re...” Air quotes. “Not dating.”

“Good. And secondly, don’t be anxious. They’re going to love you. You’re...”

“Charming?” you suggest, batting your eyelashes. “Blessed with impeccable music taste? Awesome at taming demons?”

He smiles. “I was going to say perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re three shots deep and belting out Sweet Caroline with the electric-fence kid from Jurassic Park. There’s a sentence you never thought would cross your mind.

Joe’s trim left arm is draped over your shoulders, his head leaning into yours, a lager swooping precariously in his right hand as he gestures with it like a microphone. Ben is looking on, grinning as he sips his Sazerac, his eyes flickering in the dim, rusty light. When you first arrived, Ben introduced you as a friend; Joe had quickly shimmied over and started dropping lines.

“Joe,” Ben flared, like it was a warning. “I’m not trying to set you two up. That’s not what this is.”

“Whoops, my bad,” Joe had replied, and dialed down the saccharine charm. Yet you like Joe, you like him a lot, and within thirty minutes you’ve already exchanged numbers and compared astrological signs and agreed that he’s going to teach you how to play baseball next week.

“She’s got a thing for Jeff Goldblum, you know,” Ben says now.

“Stop!” you cry, blushing furiously.

“Do you?!” Joe asks and gulps half his lager. “I can make that happen. I can introduce you.”

“He’s a lot older than he was in his Jurassic Park days,” you sigh, lamenting.

“But also wayyyyy richer!” Joe pitches, waggling his eyebrows.

“She’s a schoolteacher,” Ben notes. “She could use a sugar daddy.”

“Girl, I am going to hook you up!”

Rami and Lucy return to the circular booth from the dancefloor, their fingers interlaced. Lucy is incredibly delicate, even tinier and more youthful than she appears onscreen, and always smiling; Rami speaks slowly and thoughtfully and with a captivating meticulousness, and when he fixes his pale eyes on yours you feel like you’re the only person in the room, in the city, in the world, as if whatever you have to say is the most profound thing he’s ever heard. Rami shouts something to Ben over the blaring music as Ben takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim, and Joe jumps beside you, startled. “You smoke?”

Ben takes a draw, exhales smoke through full pink lips, and smirks guiltily.

“What year is this?!”

“2019,” Joe offers.

“Who the fuck smokes in 2019?!” you hurl at Ben. “Do you like breathing? Do you enjoy your internal organs? Do you want to live to spend all your BoRhap money?”

“You tell him!” Joe whoops, clapping. “Yeah baby! Tell him, Y/N!”

You ask incredulously: “They let people smoke in here?!”

“They do in the VIP section,” Joe chimes.

“He’s quite the delinquent, isn’t he?” Gwil says, appearing from the dancefloor and resting his hands on Ben’s shoulders. Gwilym is gentlemanly and eruditions, classically handsome, one of those people whose sincerity reads all over their face. His voice is different than Ben’s, lighter, sharper, less husky; he’s tall and slim and polished. In a phrase, he’s outlandishly lovely.

“I didn’t come here for an intervention, mate,” Ben responds, but his tone is pleasant and at-ease.

“Sorry for loving you, Ben!” Joe yells. “Sorry for caring about your longevity!”

“Sorry for wanting to grow old with you and retire together!” Gwil wails theatrically.

“Oh wow wow wow,” Rami says, shaking his head and smiling. Lucy is clutching a Malibu Sunset and trying to drag him back to the dancefloor, her polka dot dress swirling dreamily around her ankles.

“Wait,” Joe begins, “this is awkward, I definitely already purchased adjacent burial plots for me and Ben and the cemetery has a strict no-Welshmen policy, so...”

Laughing, you turn to Ben, and all at once the two of you are alone in this deafening and pulsing space. He takes another draw, the lit end of his cigarette glowing like embers, his eyes—green like envy, like a snake’s skin, like insatiable greed—all over you: your lips, your neck, your chest, lower. Something deep and shapeless ripples through you, déjà vu or recognition or desire or all of that and more; you want to reach out and touch his flushed flawless skin with your fingertips, you want to make sure he’s real. Gwil and Rami and Lucy are engrossed in some conversation about the best neighborhoods for apartment hunting in London, but Joe’s squinting suspiciously at you and Ben through the veil of smoke. You can’t fool him.

“Right,” Ben says suddenly, crushing the rest of his cigarette in an ashtray. “I’ve got to run. Y/N, do you want a lift home?”

This is just for show, just for the low-profile arrangement; of course you want to leave with him. You’ll follow him anywhere. “That’d be greatly appreciated.” As you climb out of the booth, Ben slips his phone from his pocket to call an Uber.

Joe waves, still thoughtful. “See you soon, Sweet Caroline!”

“Oh god, let’s never talk about that again.”

Rami gives you a sophisticated peck on each cheek, Lucy a spirited hug and a delighted little squeal; her oversized dangling earrings drag along your cheek as you pull away. Gwil takes your hands firmly in his own. “It was wonderful to meet you, love,” he says. “Come along anytime.”

“You’ve all been so kind!” you gush tipsily, and that’s the truth; they’ve been almost preposterously welcoming.

“Yeah yeah, you’ve stolen the show,” Ben says affectionately, maybe even proudly, guiding you towards the front of the club with his palm pressed lightly against the small of your back. “Cheers! We’ll do this again soon,” he calls back to the others. Joe and Gwil dramatically blow kisses after him as you push through the crowds and out into the windswept, luminescent Los Angeles night.

“What’s the hurry—?”

“Can I take you home now?” His voice is rushed and breathless; he’s doing that nervous thing he does where he glances around distractedly and bites his lips and shifts his weight from one foot to the other and runs his thumb over his chin.

“Of course,” you answer, your words hushed like clouds muting the moonshine.

A red Porsche rolls up along the sidewalk and Ben opens the door for you.

“I need you to do something for me,” you say when you’re both in the car and zooming through traffic towards the suburbs.

“Anything.”

Your gaze is devouring his high cheekbones—Eli’s, just like Eli’s—as the streetlights pass overhead, his messy hair and barely-there smile and all that lives under his fierce exterior, kindness and strength and wit and love. Love. “I need you to quit smoking.”

He laughs at you; that’s not what he expected. “Seriously?”

“I don’t want you to die young. I don’t want to lose you.” You can’t stand that thought. You’ve known him for three weeks and you’re hooked like a fucking swordfish; he’s in your bones, your blood, your lungs, he’s dragging you up from the depths and into blinding, open air.

This is too soon. This is way too soon. You don’t know this guy at all.

And yet somehow you do, somehow it feels like you always have.

Ben reaches over and weaves his fingers through yours. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He follows you inside when the Uber pulls into your driveway; he’s not speaking, he doesn’t remove his jacket or his shoes. He begins flipping through your box of records as you lean against the kitchen counter, your arms crossed.

“This is a test,” you say with a smile.

Ben makes a selection at last, drops the record onto the turntable, and places the needle. The music begins, filling your tiny one-bedroom house, reverberating off the walls that you’ve painted mint green and lilac and teal and pastel rosy pink. He still isn’t looking at me.

“Interesting choice.” The song is Save Tonight by a Swedish artist called Eagle-Eye Cherry; it’s acoustic and simple and soulful. “That’s not very classic rock of you.”

“Go on and close the curtains

'Cause all we need is candlelight

You and me, and a bottle of wine

To hold you tonight.”

“The Nineties weren’t all bad.” Ben shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on the kitchen table, kicks aside his shoes, lays his phone face-down on the counter as if he’s just decided to stay. Then he comes to you.

“Well we know I'm going away

And how I wish, I wish it weren't so

So take this wine and drink with me

And let's delay our misery.”

There’s no questioning whether you’re going to let him touch you; there’s no question at all. The thought of not being with him is agonizing, cavernous, unbearable. You’ve never wanted someone like this. You’ve never wanted anything like this.

Ben cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he’s coming up for air, like you’re a high he’ll never get enough of. He tastes like cognac and whiskey and cigarettes and lust. Your back hits the refrigerator, and your magnets pop off and clatter against the tile floor; your fingers are knotting through his hair as his trace a path beneath your blouse. He asks if you’re okay—not with his voice but with his searching eyes—and you nod a desperate yes, yes, yes. Outside the stars are raging through the blackness, those same stars that lit up the sky above the dinosaurs just a few blinks of their immortal lifespans ago.

“Save tonight and fight the break of dawn,

Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone...”

“Oh shit...” Ben’s patting his pockets, flipping through his wallet. His eyes are wide and frantic. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him. “Wait, I’m sorry, you’re an actor, you probably get psychos trying to have your babies all the time, I totally understand if you don’t trust me—”

“I trust you,” he breathes, as if he’s just realizing it.

“I trust you too, Ben.”

“Don’t say it,” he whispers, almost pleads. “You don’t know me.”

“I do,” you insist, unbuttoning his shirt, lifting all that separates you away, peeling back secrets like layers of the earth.

#ben jones #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fic #borhap imagine #borhap fic #bohemian rhapsody #bywmpf #baby you were my picket fence #gwilym lee #joe mazzello

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hermannsthumb · 5 years

Note

hey idk if u take prompts like this but I love ur work; there’s a line in Hozier’s song Talk that says “so I’ll try to talk refined, for fear that you’ll find out how I’m imagining you” where hermann overcompensates for his dirty thoughts about newt by being exceptionally proper

newt’s Himbo energies in this one are off the charts..... (warning for 18+ content later on)

-------------------------------

The first thing Hermann says upon walking into the lab one ordinary Friday morning, half-asleep, travel coffee mug in hand, most comfortable sweater pulled on, is “What on earth are you doing?”

The first thing Newton says, down on his hands and knees on the dirty lab floor, and peering under Hermann’s small bookcase, is “Looking for my contact lenses.”

This is not what Hermann expected to hear. He deposits his mug on his desk and frowns at Newton. “You don’t wear contacts,” he says.

“It’s something new I’m trying,” Newton says. “I break my glasses a lot, you know. And lose them a lot. More, uh, cost effective.” He swipes his hand under the bookcase and curses.

“You lost these, too,” Hermann points out.

Newton pops up for a brief moment merely to scowl at Hermann. Or, really, to scowl in Hermann’s general direction. He’s squinting in a way that makes it quite clear he can’t actually see anything. “I’m aware, Dr. Obvious.”

Hermann takes a sip of coffee and settles in against his desk. “It’s Captain Obvious.”

“I was making a joke, you dick,” Newton says. Hermann watches, mildly entertained, as Newton swipes fruitlessly beneath the bookcase a few more times before crawling over to feel under the kitchenette. “I had no fucking clue how to put these bitches in. They just--popped right out. Ew.” He lifts a moldy crust of bread up, squints at it, and tosses it over his shoulder. It bounces off Hermann’s shoe.

“Newton,” Hermann scolds, kicking it away.

“Newton,” Newt repeats in a mocking approximation of his accent. He gropes his way over to Hermann’s desk and comes to a stop in front of Hermann’s shoes. “Do you mind--?”

“What?” Hermann says. “Oh.”

Feeling a bit warm under the collar at Newton’s uncomfortably suggestive position, Hermann parts his legs. Newton dives between them to peer under the desk, thighs jostling either side of Hermann’s ankles, rear stuck out. His shirt is riding up his back. His sturdy back. If he turned over, Hermann would get a glimpse of his stomach, the sparse bit of hair that--or so Hermann presumes--trails down to his waistband. Hermann grows warmer. “Do be careful,” he says, swallowing hard. He taps at Newt’s boot with his cane. One false move and Newton could send him tumbling. Distantly, dazedly, he thinks he ought to move.

“Mmhmm,” Newton says, rear end wiggling, grunting loudly with effort, then, “Oh!” He wraps the fingers of one hand around Hermann’s calf to steady himself as he sits back on his heels and presents a single dusty contact lens with the other. “Got one.” He squints at it, pink tongue poking out between his lips, as if attempting to asses the damage.

“Fascinating,” Hermann says, hoping, vaguely, that Newton doesn’t attempt to cram it back into place without washing it. Newton’s shirt is still rucked up his chest; he’s not let go of Hermann. His hair is a mess. It would be very easy--almost too easy--for Hermann to thread his own fingers through that messy hair, to draw Newton closer, to press that pink tongue and lips to the front of his trousers and hear him make more of those lovely little grunts. Hermann taps his cane against Newton’s boot again. “N--Ah--I have to. Newton. I left something in my quarters.”

“Huh?” Newton says.

“Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann chokes out. “Ah. My quarters--”

Newton releases Hermann’s calf quickly, his eyebrows creasing in obvious confusion. Not without reason. Hermann has not used his full title since the early days of their correspondence. “Right. Sorry.”

“Jolly good,” Hermann says, and, fumbling with his cane, half-sprints away.

Newton’s reverted back to his standard eyeglasses when Hermann ducks back into the laboratory thirty minutes later, his problem taken care of, so to speak. “Failed experiment of the day,” Newton declares. He makes a show of flicking both--filthy--contact lenses into the trash bin, and then following them up with the box of the rest of them. Hermann wonders if Newton waited for him to get back to do that. He also wonders why, if Newton had his glasses on hand, he didn’t put them on before writhing around on the ground. “Oh well. It was worth a test run.”

He has dirt from the lab floor staining the knees of his skinny jeans. Forcefully dredging his mind from the gutter (Newton, scuffed jeans hiding bruises from where he’d kneeled for something else entirely, and something entirely for Hermann), Hermann nods stiffly. “Certainly. Of course.”

“Glasses suit me better, anyway,” Newton says, and tugs them off his face to wave them around.

"Indeed,” Hermann says.

This is hardly the first time Hermann has been caught embarrassingly off-guard by Newton’s ability to inject a healthy douse of sexuality into even the most innocuous behavior. Newton eats with his fingers and moans when he’s really enjoying his food. Newton has never managed to not stick his ass out into the air when he drops something and bends to pick it up. Newton sucks on the tips of pencils when he’s deep in thought, cheeks hollowed, lips puckered and spit-slick. It drives Hermann mad, frankly, sends him spiraling into completely inappropriate arousal in the middle of the laboratory or mess hall or restaurant every time; he’s long-since developed a routine on how to deal with it. Act proper. Act professional. Newton will never know.

It’s hardly the last time today, either. Hermann is around ninety-percent certain he’s imagining it (fantasizing unintentionally, perhaps) when, three hours later, he hears Newton emitting those same little obscene grunts as before, which is why he ignores it at first. Then they grow louder. Then--

“Hermann?” Newton says. A little squeaking huff. “Hey, dude, can you help me with something?”

Hermann drags his glasses off with a little sigh and sets down his chalk. “What is it?”

Another grunt. “Uh. I’m having--a little problem reaching something.”

When Hermann finally turns, it’s to find Newton leaping and swiping desperately at the cupboard above the kitchenette. Just out of reach for someone of Newton’s height. Not out of reach for someone of Hermann’s height. “We really ought to get you a step-stool,” Hermann says, but clacks over nonetheless. He’s not sure what could possibly be in that cupboard that’s so urgent that Newton needs it right away. They never use it.

Newton has not stopped swiping at the cupboard when Hermann comes up behind him; in fact, he’s only struggling harder. Evidently he’s not heard Hermann. “I almost--”

He grunts against as his fingertips graze the metal handle, deep and exertive, just as Hermann chooses that unfortunate moment to take a step forward to attempt to steady him; Newton falls back with a loud oof!, stumbling, ass rubbing fully against Hermann’s crotch, at the same time Hermann reaches out to catch him, on instinct, and ends up with a hand up Newton’s shirt and a grip around Newton’s soft left side.

Newton stares upside-down at him, eyes wide, glasses askew, pink blooming across his cheeks. Hermann stares down at Newton.

“Whoops,” Newton laughs. “Uh. Sorry. Thanks for--” He wriggles out of Hermann’s grip and turns, awkwardly, to pat his arm. Hermann jerks away.

“Of course,” he says. Too loudly. He pushes past Newton and pulls the cupboard door open so hard it nearly snaps off its hinges. “What--ah--what did you need?”

“Box of disposable gloves,” Newton says.

Hermann grabs it and thrusts it at Newt without even looking. He had not expected Newton’s skin to be so soft and warm to the touch. Obscene fantasies come, unbidden and fast: Hermann stroking both hands up that shirt and over that soft, warm body, Newton making those same little grunts and squeaks, perhaps, even, allowing Hermann to grip his waist and bend him right over and rub against him, rock his hips against him-- “Right,” Hermann says. “Well. Ah. Here you are. Newton. Dr. Geiszler.”

Newton’s tongue flicks out over his lips. He smiles. Innocent, and a little confused. Hermann feels a rush of guilt. “Hey, thanks!” Newton says. He rips open the top and pulls out a pair, teeth worrying at his lower lip for a flash of a second in concentration and leaving behind a tiny dent. He snaps the gloves on. “I bet a stool would count as a business expense.”

“Mm?” Hermann says. He cannot tear his eyes away from the dent. He could leave some of his own on Newton--kiss him until his lips are red and swollen, perhaps. Bite at them until Newton comes apart with a cry under Hermann’s fingertips. Until Hermann can taste blood.

“A stool,” Newton says, and Hermann wonders if all of him is as warm as his chest. “I said we could request a stool on our next supply requisition form.”

Hermann shakes his head. His heart is racing. “I suppose,” he says. He tries to push past Newton. “Ah. Yes. Pardon me, will you, I--”

“I can see your boner, Hermann,” Newton says.

Hermann freezes in his tracks. “Excuse me?”

“I can see your boner,” Newton repeats.

“No you can’t,” Hermann splutters, going beet-red, “that is to say--you cannot, because I do not have one.”

Newton points to the front of Hermann’s trousers; Hermann quickly blocks the view with his cane. “Yes you do,” Newton says. He takes a step closer, one hand settling to rest at Hermann’s waist, and flutters his eyelashes. “Is that for me?”

Hermann’s breath catches, and, for a moment, he considers confessing it all, the fantasies, how wild Newton drives him; then Newton’s face splits into a grin. Mortification surges within Hermann. “This is an entirely inappropriate conversation to be having in--in the workplace,” he spits, pushing Newton off and backing away, “as are your--your jokes. Completely unprofessional. Please refrain from--”

Newton catches his arm. “Listen, man,” he says. “Sorry. I’m not joking. Do you want me to blow you or not?”

Hermann blinks at him. “...Are you certain you’re being serious?”

“Well, yeah,” Newton says.

“Alright,” Hermann says, happily.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #not sfw ///////#Anonymous

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technicallycleverdetective · 5 years

Text

Christmas one-shot request for Pescatore using the prompt ‘That’s my scarf.’ I don’t know if this is what you wanted, but an attempt was made and I hope it’s okay :)

This had been the most pleasant Christmas that Ermal had ever had. Admittedly he hadn't celebrated the season very much in his life, only going through the motions since his niece got old enough to be excited about lights and gifts and Father Christmas. This was the first year that he'd really felt involved in the preparations, from gift shopping and wrapping to cooking Christmas dinner, to returning little girls who wanted to stay up for Santa to their beds. This was the first year that Christmas had been a source of fun rather than stress, an occasion for drinking hot chocolate in front of Christmas movies and a roaring fire with Fabrizio's fingers in his hair. He was so grateful to his boyfriend for involving him so much in what was mainly an occasion for his children.

Christmas morning had gone smoothly, despite the possibility for awkwardness with both Giada and Ermal in the same house. He had considerately kept out of the way and tended to the turkey while they opened gifts- his presents for the children had gone down well, as Libero was already wearing his hoodie and Anita her new silver necklace- and then Giada had taken the kids out for a walk while Fabrizio and Ermal exchanged their gifts.

Fabrizio had given him a sparkly blue jacket. He had burst out laughing at the sight of it and then pulled his boyfriend into a tight hug. “They're everywhere in the shops right now,” Fabrizio admitted. “Do you like the colour?”

He loved the colour. He didn't have a jacket in this shade of blue, and he looked forward to debuting it on stage. It would be his little secret, a piece of Fabrizio sitting close to his heart without anyone else's notice.

Fabrizio's gift was a leather wallet, carefully chosen for its durability and design. The old one was denim and had rips in it from being used for so long. Even Fabrizio admitted he needed a new one, and was delighted to open the box and see what was inside.

They busied themselves with preparing lunch until the kids came back, and the warm atmosphere during the meal was only partly due to the temperature in the kitchen. Each person around the table pulled a cracker with everyone else, Anita being allowed to use two hands on account of her age and refereeing to make sure no-one else could. The winner earned a paper crown and small toy, unless they had already won, in which case the prize went to the loser. Ermal's crown was green and he won a silver dice on his own merit, and a pack of tiny playing cards gifted to him by Fabrizio.

The slips of paper containing jokes and charades stayed with the first person who laid hands on them, the joke first being read aloud, and then the charades performed after the meal. The film that Ermal was told to act out was Titanic. He had a little more fun with it than he should have.

“One word...Whole word...Four?”

“Hug? Four hugs?”

“Four...Four what? What are you saying?”

“Dad? Four Dads? Four fathers?”

“I don't know this movie.”

“Titanic” Fabrizio said dryly.

Ermal jumped in excitement and pointed at him. Fabrizio rolled his eyes and smiled. He stood to take his turn and lightly tapped Ermal's curls as he passed.

As he sat in front of the TV, paying more attention to the sound of footsteps upstairs than the Christmas No. 1 countdown on the screen, Ermal found himself thinking that this was the first time that he hadn't felt like a guest in someone else's celebrations, but as if he was with a family of his own. He smiled and then, at the sound of the feet descending the stairs, turned the TV off and went into the hall to say goodbye to the children. Anita leapt at him and gave him a long hug, thanking him for his presents and his presence, while Libero simply waved.

Fabrizio went out to the car with them before coming back inside, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together. Ermal immediately hugged him. The respectful distance they had attempted to maintain in front of the family was no more. Fabrizio chuckled into his ear and ran his fingers through the curls. “Hey, I feel like getting out of the house for a bit. Do you want to come?” he said.

“Where?” Ermal asked, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.

“Just for a walk to enjoy the air.”

“I'm coming” he agreed, releasing Fabrizio from his embrace and running upstairs to put his coat on. His boyfriend followed him up to the bedroom.

“Wrap up warm. It's a cold day” he said.

“I know,” Ermal replied. “I've got my jacket and my hat and gloves.”

“You need a scarf too.”

“I don't need a scarf...” He turned to see Fabrizio already lifting one from the drawer. It was bright red with tassles on the end. Ermal took it, curious at how familiar the feeling of the material was. “That's a nice scarf. Is it new?”

“Not really,” Fabrizio said casually. “Someone dropped it in the mosh pit at the Assago Forum. I waited for a couple of hours to see if they came back, but no show, so I just kept it. I figured it'd be useful in the winter.”

He went to the wardrobe and took out his coat, the ugly green fisherman’s one, and a cream scarf with a brown check pattern to complete the grandfatherly look. Under normal circumstances Ermal would have gently teased him for his fashion, and perhaps the absence of that was the first indication of something amiss.

“Something wrong?” Fabrizio asked. Ermal raised his head to look at him, wondering if he should play it off. Fabrizio was unlikely to make further enquiries. Then again, this was his chance to admit to it. Surely the reaction wouldn’t be too bad? A lot better than it would be if Fabrizio stumbled across that video.

“I have a confession to make. This is my scarf.”

Fabrizio frowned, looking at the scarf and then at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I must have dropped at the Forum. I didn't realise it was gone until I was halfway home and I thought I'd lost it on the street.”

“But that doesn't make sense. It can't have been lying there since your birthday.”

Ermal took a deep breath. Here was the moment of truth. “No, I lost it at your concert. I was there.”

“You were there?” Fabrizio echoed, squinting incredulously. For a second it seemed he didn’t even believe that, but it passed quickly. “Why didn't you come say hi? And why did you say you were too busy to be a guest?”

“I couldn't be a guest, Bizio. Come on!” Ermal retorted. “Everyone would have freaked out and ignored the whole concert in favour of that one song. They would have thought Andrea was there because of me. No, it was out of the question.”

“You still could have come backstage to see us.”

“Andrea would have strangled me if I turned up after saying I couldn't be there for his big moment,” he said wryly. “I just didn't want him to feel like everything he does is associated with me, or that he wasn’t performing for himself. And be honest, you would have been annoyed after I'd already said I couldn't be a guest. It seemed easier to keep it to myself.”

Fabrizio bit his lip and looked down, playing idly with his scarf. Ermal held his breath, waiting to find out if the best Christmas he’d ever had was ruined. Finally he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“Are you annoyed with me?”

“No,” Fabrizio said immediately. He looked up and the sight of a smile made Ermal’s heart feel like it had started beating again. “I'm glad you were there and I'm glad I found out, but I'm also happy I didn't know at the time. It would have changed the way that concert felt. I'm sorry for stealing your scarf” he added.

“No, you keep it,” Ermal insisted, putting it around his boyfriend’s neck and moving back to see the result. “It looks good on you. Besides, I didn't bring my handcuffs so it might come in useful later.”

Fabrizio grinned and shook his head. “Promises, promises” he said lightly. He removed the scarf and put it around Ermal’s neck, and started to tie the knot.

“Or we could share it,” Ermal added. “Since custody remains in dispute, I propose we co-parent. The scarf can live with you and I'll have visitation rights.”

Fabrizio’s eyes flicked upwards and he smirked. “That sounds great to me” he said, and tugged on the scarf to pull Ermal into a kiss.

#metamoro #prompt request #my first ever request :D

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santiagoswagger · 5 years

Note

“You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” + when amy first tells tedford about jacob's romantic stylez confession 👀👀

I believe you asked for angst?!

Shaken by Jake’s parking lot confession, Amy attempts to get through dinner with Teddy.

Prompt: “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

She aimlessly pushes the over-sauced noodles around her plate with her fork, just as she’d done uninterrupted for the last ten minutes.

She should be ecstatic tonight – she’s on a much-needed date with her boyfriend, she’s wearing her favorite red cocktail dress and she’s drinking a glass of wine from a bottle that definitely cost more than eight dollars – but something is off, and it’s not the sub-par spaghetti that Teddy ordered for them at this tiny Italian restaurant.

If only her stupid partner hadn’t dropped a bomb on her and disappeared into the night, knowing they wouldn’t have any contact for six months. It’s officially the dumbest thing Jake has ever done, and she once saw him try to grill a panini with a clothing iron.

She should be fuming – he hadn’t given her a second to process or respond to such life-changing words – but she’s not, and she can’t figure out why. He’s made her mad nearly every day they’ve known each other, yet she can’t be anything other than worried for him.

Jake, the man whose boyish grin has greeted her from across her desk every day for three years, is somewhere in New York City getting drunk with actual mobsters right now. For all he talks about his action hero dreams, she knows how soft he really is. He’s the kind of guy who will tell graphic stories about his one-night stands to anyone who will listen and, on the same day, bring soup to his sick mother. It’s that side of him that stops her from breaking out her baton every time he makes a stupid sex-tape joke at her expense. She knows who he really is.

And now, he’s going to be in constant danger for the next six months.

And he likes her.

“Are you okay, Amy? You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

She looks up from her full plate to find Teddy staring at her, sympathy and concern swirling in his kind eyes. She mentally berates herself for not giving him the attention he deserves as she thinks about another man.

Their two-month relationship has been pretty perfect so far. He’s considerate and thoughtful, and they have a lot in common, even if he does talk about pilsners more than she cares for.

She offers him a remorseful smile, which he returns. She feels guilt sear through her chest like molten lava. “I’m fine. It was just a tough day, that’s all.”

She sticks a pile of noodles onto her fork and is about to finally take a bite when Teddy interrupts.

“Do you want to talk about it? That’s the benefit of dating a cop, right? I understand what you go through on a daily basis.” His expression is so earnest. She wants to run out of the restaurant and never return.

She sighs, setting down her fork. The guilt soars further into her gut, and she knows the only way to rid herself of the toxicity is to get it out into the open.

“Today was Jake’s disciplinary hearing. He got fired.” Saying it out loud is like ripping off a Band-Aid – it happens so fast and all she’s left with in its wake is a shooting pain.

If Teddy is surprised, he hides it well. He moves to cover her hand, sitting idly on the cloth-covered table, with his own. “I’m sorry, honey. I know he was your friend.”

“And he told me that he likes me.”

His hand retracts so fast, she can practically hear it move through the air. “He what?”

“Well, he didn’t really say it in those words. It was more like he wished something would happen between us, romantic-stylez,” she blurts frantically, moving to gulp her fancy wine. It burns her throat going down.

“Romantic-stylez?” Teddy splutters.

“You probably don’t know him well enough, but that’s very on-brand for him,” she says, chuckling awkwardly. She instantly regrets it.

Teddy is silent for a moment, lost in thought as he sips his pilsner. Amy watches him, arms crossed in front of her torso, at a complete loss for what to do with her hands.

“What did you say when he told you?” He’s looking at her with a guarded expression. She can usually read him so well, but she suspects he’s breaking out his finely-honed detective skills to get to the bottom of a very convoluted situation, as he would in any perp interrogation.

“I didn’t say anything,” she responds quietly, eyes fixed on a stain on the tablecloth as she relives the moment. “He walked away before I could.”

“What would you have said if he hadn’t walked away?”

She pauses. She remembers opening her mouth as Jake retreated with his box of desk toys, but she has no idea what she had hoped to say.

“I don’t know,” she says truthfully, shrugging her shoulders helplessly.

Teddy sighs and wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin sitting in his lap. Jake probably didn’t know he needed to put his napkin in his lap at a fancy restaurant. She wonders if the FBI will give him some etiquette tips before he has to dine with the Ianuccis. She feels a slight pang in her chest at the thought.

“What does that mean, Amy? Do you like Jake?”

There it is. The question she’d been asking herself for the last two hours since she’d finally left the precinct parking lot. She doesn’t have any more clarity now than she did then.

She’s seen a shift in her partner in the last year, a new maturity that she attributes to Captain Holt’s arrival. She can’t pretend she doesn’t find him attractive or that his goofy smile isn’t completely magnetic, but she’s nearly thirty-one years old and magnetic can’t be the only thing she looks for in a man anymore.

“I don’t know,” she says, and she can see Teddy’s spirit plummet. “I think – I think that maybe I’m confused?” She hates that it’s all she can offer him.

He pauses, playing with a loose thread in the tablecloth. “What do you want to do?”

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly the way she would cigarette smoke. She could really use a puff or two right now.

“I think I need some time. Some time to think,” she stutters, eyes pleading. She hopes Teddy understands that it’s not about him, that it’s about her.

He nods twice, slowly. “Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, if you want.”

She nods. “Thanks, Teddy. I’m so sorry.”

He nods again, averting his eyes, and throws a few bills on the table to pay for their half-eaten dinner before walking out of the restaurant.

It’s the second time she’s been left alone with her thoughts tonight, but this time, all she feels is relief.

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 fic #jake x amy #peraltiago #1.5k follower celebration #rip season one tedford

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komorebirei · 5 years

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The Water Was Never Afraid - Chapter 7: Branch

Chat Noir ran along the rooftops on all fours, using his staff only to vault from one building to the next. He didn’t know or care where he was going—Paris’ visible landmarks were enough to orient himself once he was ready to go back.

It was almost nine in the evening, and the sun was slanting, but the city was still suffused in golden light. Passing the restaurant where he and Kagami had eaten just a couple hours ago, he spied the same waitress who had served them still on her shift, taking an order from an outdoor table. She looked tired and a bit frazzled.

Seeing the opportunity to improve someone’s day, Chat Noir swiped a peony from a random window’s flower box and hopped to the ground. As the waitress pocketed her tiny pad of paper and turned to go back inside, he caught up to her and presented the peony.

She looked shocked and starstruck, turning to search her surroundings for the reason Chat Noir was paying her a visit.

“This is for you, mademoiselle. I’ve been to this restaurant before, and I recognized you,” Chat Noir confessed honestly. “Thank you for making dinner worthwhile for my girlfriend and me.”

He threw in the last detail so she wouldn’t think he was hitting on her.

Her face brightened as she took the flower from his claws.

“Ah, there it is,” Chat Noir grinned cheerfully, twirling his staff in one hand. “I was hoping to see that smile bloom on your face.”

The girl giggled and tucked the peony’s stem into her apron. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

He leaned into her ear to whisper. “Oh, and I trust you to keep it a secret that Chat Noir is seeing someone. Keep smiling, mademoiselle!” Waving goodbye, Chat Noir went on his way, smirking at the dumbstruck expressions of the restaurant’s patrons.

Hanging a left at the Arc du Triomphe, he followed the broad avenue of the Champs Élysées in the general direction of Collège Françoise Dupont.

Even though it felt good to be out and about, and to see Parisians milling from place to place, wrapping up the loose ends of their days, Chat Noir couldn’t help but feel lonely.

He couldn’t seem to escape this situation—the mask, the façade. No matter where he went or what he did, the curtain separating him from the world seemed to follow him around.

None of these people knew anything about him, and it was difficult to engage people in conversation when they were too blinded by his mask not to act like fools basking in the glamour of being noticed by a superhero of modern legend. Not much different from being Adrien, just a lot more fun when he could do parkour all over the city.

Still, it was nice to make people smile, so there was that.

Landing on a spire of Notre Dame, Cat Noir took a moment to scan the city. He’d made it quite some distance from his neighborhood in the 8th arrondissement, by the Parc Monceau. The lazy crawl of his eyes across the surroundings came to a halt when he saw a sight that made his chest warm.

He couldn’t be sure it was her. She was like a speck across the narrow channel of Seine separating the two islands, on the neighboring Île Saint-Louis, but that loose white blouse with oversized black-inked polka dots, paired with persimmon-colored straight-leg pants that contrasted sharply with the neutral colors and green of the balcony garden, looked strikingly familiar. He could have sworn he’d seen her wear that outfit to the office.

He extended his staff into the water and used it to pole vault across to the other island, landing in a tree near the balcony.

Now that he had a clear view, his suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed her. Her shoulder-length hair had been swept into a loose bun that was already starting to fall out of the claw clip. One knee pulled to her chest, she leaned over a round wooden table, cutting magazine clippings, blissfully unaware that she was being watched.

One sturdy branch of the tree he was sitting in extended toward her balcony, so he slunk across it on all fours, feeling his perch sway in the wind.

“I’m surprised to see the princess in a different tower,” Chat Noir called out softly, trying not to startle her.

It didn’t work. Marinette screeched and hurled the scissors at him, which he thankfully caught deftly between thumb and forefinger. He tutted as he used the branch as a bridge to Marinette’s balcony. “Trying to put my eye out, Princess? How can I protect Paris blind?”

“Chat Noir!” Looking horrified, Marinette leaned over the balcony rail toward him. The sudden movement had made her precariously lodged claw clip fall out, and her loose hair brushed her shoulders, slightly wavy from the previous style. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” he reassured. “Care for some company?”

Marinette moved aside, making space for him to land, and he leapt the short distance between the branch and her balcony.

“Did you pick this apartment in hopes of welcoming me someday?” he joked.

“Keep on dreaming, Minou. My balcony was my thinking place, growing up, and I got used to having one to retreat to when I was feeling introspective. So a cute balcony was an important condition when I was looking for my own place.”

It was refreshing the way Marinette talked to him like a normal person, not like she was speaking with a celebrity and watching every word that came out of her mouth. He had occasionally interacted with her or pulled her out of danger during an akuma fight, but nothing more than he had done to countless other citizens in the past. Judging from the way she easily spoke with Jagged Stone and even his father, Chat Noir supposed Marinette was just tough to intimidate. A woman with nerves of steel.

He picked up her claw clip, which had fallen to the ground, and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed, and he saw that her hands were smudged with colored ink, unadorned with nail polish. Honest, laboring hands.

“This one’s an upgrade. I like what you’ve done with it,” he praised, looking around. The balcony was larger than the one over her parents’ bakery, extending out from the relatively spacious wedge by the French doors that led into the apartment, in a narrow bridge-like protrusion. She had lined the perimeter with a variety of plants, mostly low flower beds and greens that came up to the level of the rail, but the vines and small trees next to the building’s exterior had begun to grow up the walls. She had strung lights from the roof of the building down to the balcony rails, and the golden glow blended with the violet hues of impending dusk. The overall effect looked inviting, comfortable and fresh, and gave her balcony an intimate feel.

“Thanks.” Marinette went back to her table, which, on closer inspection, Chat Noir realized was varnished bamboo.

“What are you doing with all of that, Princess?” he asked, peering at the clippings that littered the table, held down by several smooth, grey rocks. A few pens and alcohol markers lay in a messy pile near her elbow.

Marinette held up her sketchbook, into which she had already taped several clippings. Beside them were a few sketched mannequins in outfits that pulled from the color palette. “Just working on my inspiration book.”

Chat Noir snorted. “Like The Collector.”

Marinette gasped in mock offense. “You’re comparing me to an akuma?”

“You remember that?” Chat Noir was surprised she understood the reference.

“Well, of course! Gabriel Agreste was my idol, so I paid attention to him.” She broke off another piece of tape and fastened another clipping to the page.

Chat Noir marveled at how immaculate the layout looked, combining the magazine clippings with her fluid sketches and tiny, font-like handwriting. “You know, Princess, you could publish this sketchbook exactly as it is and people would buy it.”

“As if I’d do that,” Marinette retorted quickly. “This is a closely guarded book of Marinette Dupain-Cheng secrets. You better not leak my designs, Chat Noir. I fully intend on these designs hitting the market. Some of them, anyway.”

Chat Noir fought a huge grin that threatened to overtake his face. He was delighted that she was making it in their industry. He wondered if he’d get to wear any of her designs—but he couldn’t be vocal about his excitement yet.

“I guess you don’t have these layouts on Instagram somewhere then, do you?”

“Not these, but I do have an Instagram,” she admitted. “Not gonna tell you my handle, though. I challenge you to find it.”

“Challenge accepted.” He winked.

“So, Chat Noir,” Marinette looked up. “Are you just dropping by to say hello, or…?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, standing awkwardly by the table, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on Marinette’s alone-time. His father hated having someone hover over his shoulder as he designed. Maybe he was bothering Marinette. “It was just nice to see a familiar face, but I can get going if you’re busy.”

Marinette shrugged, an easy smile tugging at her lips. “I’m not really busy, just passing time. I can get a little obsessive when it comes to designing, so a distraction is always welcome if you wanted to stay a while.”

Since Hawkmoth wasn’t active and today wasn’t their day to meet, Marinette knew Chat Noir had no practical reason to be in the suit, so his presence on her balcony right now probably meant he was lonely.

Chat Noir nodded. “Thanks, Princess.”

“I can’t believe you’re still calling me that,” Marinette said, pushing one of the chairs out for him with her foot.

He took a seat, laying one arm over the other on the table, careful not to disturb her clippings. “We always seem to meet on a balcony. Should I call you Juliet instead?”

This time, she kicked his boot lightly. “Too far, Chat.”

He picked up one of the alcohol markers. “Why do you artists like these so much? What’s so special about them?”

Marinette ripped out a page of her sketchbook. He flinched and started to protest, but she waved off his concern and dropped the sheet in front of him. “The ink mixes together really well—give it a try. And I’m a designer, not an artist.”

“What’s the difference?” Chat Noir uncapped a light green slab marker and drew a thick line a couple inches long.

“Artists create to express themselves. Designers create for others.”

“Isn’t there some art in design, too?” He drew another line beside the first in a dark, forest green, and watched as the ink bled between the two strips of color in a gradient effect. “Wow, that’s really cool.”

“Isn’t it? It’s kind of like watercolor painting!” Marinette’s eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. “And yeah, you’re right. There’s overlap, of course, kind of like a yin-yang. But I don’t consider myself to be an artist. I want people to wear and use what I design. It’s not just to get some idea into the world, which I think is where a lot of people fall short in the fashion industry. Too conceptual.”

Chat Noir nodded. “I get what you mean.” A lot of the outfits he saw on the runway were just plain ridiculous, as if the designers were trying to push the line of how ugly you could make something and still call it fashion.

He wished he could tell her about the line he’d seen leaked photos of just last week from another fashion house, which literally made the models look like hunchbacks. He didn’t think he’d seen anything more hideous in his life. If he told her, though, she’d know that he had some connection to the fashion world.

Would that be okay, maybe? Hawkmoth already knew his identity, so what was there to hide?

“Marinette,” he said slowly, letting up on his Chat Noir swagger. A thrill ran through him when she looked up with searching eyes, probably catching on to his change of tone. “What if I were someone you actually knew? Would this be weird? Us hanging out like this, I mean?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow and turned her head to give him a sidelong glance. “Uh… no, not really? I understand the whole secret identity thing. Hawkmoth is still at large…” she trailed off, short of asking the unspoken question.

He could see the cogs turning in her brain—trying to figure out why he was asking. ‘Be careful, Chat Noir,’ was written in her expression.

He could tell her. She would keep his secret. It didn’t really matter as much now, anyway, and he knew he could trust her. She was a loyal friend. Wouldn’t it be nice to have one person in the world know his secret?

But then, he remembered the way she had backed off him when she remembered him dating Kagami, and the way she kept her guard up around him, since he was her boss’s son. The way they were now was good. Two friends hanging out, doing nothing, expecting nothing.

No, he couldn’t tell her. Let Chat Noir remain his sanctuary. Chat Noir wasn’t Adrien. He wasn’t anyone.

“Ah, don’t worry, Princess!” He waved both hands in an attempt to allay the worry and suspicion that was etched into her face. “It’s just, there’s someone I know in real life that I tend to see a lot as Chat Noir, and I, uh, just wondered if it was weird of me not to tell her. I certainly feel like a creep sometimes, since she doesn’t know it’s me.”

“Oh, I see.” Marinette cocked her head, looking more curious now than troubled. “She should understand you have to keep your identity under wraps. Any Parisian would.”

“I guess you’re right!” Chat Noir laughed, even though part of him throbbed with a deep, dull ache as he put on another mask over his mask. He returned the two markers he’d used to the pile and stood. “Well, Princess, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome for tonight. It was fun.” He winked and gave her a comically deep bow. “I bid you adieu, Princess.”

“Good night.” She brushed her bangs aside and waved, the golden fairy lights accentuating the curve of her cheek as she smiled. As Chat Noir leapt onto the branch that caught him with a deep swing, she called out, “You know where I live now, so feel free to come by when you’re lonely.”

He caught her eye—she was looking at him softly, with a patient expression, calm like water. She knew he was lonely.

“Good night, Princess.”

Feeling shaken from the adrenaline of almost spilling the secret he’d kept for eight years, he ran across Paris and transformed in an alley before reentering his flat.

He checked his phone reflexively as Plagg broke out of his pocket and made a beeline for the cheese cabinet. There were a few messages from board members, one from Celeste. He didn’t open them—didn’t feel like thinking about work at the moment.

Nothing from Kagami. That wasn’t too surprising. When they weren’t together, she was immersed in her activities and only texted him to make plans. He didn’t expect her to be the mushy girlfriend type with whom he’d have to argue about who should hang up first.

After a quick shower and microwaved meal, he went over the next day’s plans and puttered around the internet watching random videos until the hour grew late enough to sleep.

As he crawled into bed, he checked again for messages from Kagami, but nothing. He contemplated texting her to ask what she was doing, or say goodnight, but decided against looking needy and weak.

He lay in bed, feeling inexplicably restless.

A strange dissatisfaction gnawed at him, though he couldn’t find anything in his life to complain about.

It was at least another hour before he finally drifted off to sleep.

#Miraculous Ladybug #MiraculousLadybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #MiraculousLadybugFanfiction #Marichat #Adrigami #The Water Was Never Afraid

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