#would like to feel a sensation that doesn’t immediately make me think something is terribly wrong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meg-moira · 3 years

Text

I did the thing. Based on this writing prompt!

What am I, you ask?

It was a question I, too asked myself, once upon a time. I ask it no longer, because I don’t much see the reason in dwelling upon questions which have no definitive answers.

I can tell you what others think I am. Will that satisfy your curiosity?

An aged deity they call me. A minor one, of course. For they know I never laid claim to the vast domains of the Great Gods. War, Knowledge, Death are all grand pursuits, but they are not to my tastes.

Besides, I would never claim anything so specific. To those who live in the village beneath my humble temple, I am the warmth of a tended hearth, the safety of home - and the joy of returning to it.

It is a quiet village, you know. And I know my people by look and by voice. They take turns climbing the steep hill to tend my temple.

I settled here for a reason.

Did you notice my temple? It’s nice, is it not? Wooden, round, and short enough that the adults must bend to enter. Inside, two rows of candles illuminate walls lined with dangling shells dug from deep within the earth. Shelves are stacked with pebbles, feathers, twigs, and flowers. Gifts from my followers and requests I planted in the minds of my most devout.

At the center of it all, bathed in the candles’ butter yellow light sits a gleaming stone. It is opalescent and a pretty enough sight to behold. It was recovered generations ago, a layer or two beneath the dug-up shells.

The humans believe that I reside in the Everstone. That’s what they call it. Everstone. It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

I don’t. Live in the Everstone, that is. I don’t believe I live anywhere in particular.

Occasionally I sit in the stone, just for fun. I warm it sometimes when my followers’ reverent fingers brush the grooves. I like the sound of their surprise and delight. Other times I perch upon the temple’s roof, and drink up light from the first and second sun. And on rare instances, I expend the energy to make myself just corporeal enough to walk upon the hillside and feel the grass between my toes. I only allow my most favorite devotees to see me like this. It is strange and awkward to have limbs and take up space. I only do it because the sensation of touch is so entirely captivating.

Those who glimpse my walking form see someone who looks human in the same way that a painting of an ocean resembles the cold, untamable tides. I take up space, and within that space is the suggestion of personhood. They see a figure draped and hooded in ethereal white, brown skinned and with a face whose features are vague and changing. Human faces fascinate me, and I cannot always make up my mind about the features I want for my own. I-

Why would you interrupt me?

Did you not trudge your ugly boots up this steep hill to seek me out? And if you’ve come, as you say, from lands afar - why would you not want to make conversation?

...Could it be that it is not me you seek, but the one who, even now, lies crumpled and half dead upon my temple floor?

That is the truth of it. I can see it in your terrible war-bright eyes. You are no more human than the one who bleeds ichor on my nice wooden planks.

No. No. Don’t go lifting your ugly spiked weapon just yet. I’m not done talking. I can’t talk with the humans. At least, not like this. And the god currently bleeding in my temple wasn’t much able to make conversation.

He staggered up the hillside not an hour before you arrived. He had taken far more care in the crafting of his physical form than I, and I’d guessed right away that he was one of the visible gods. Likely in possession of both power and desire enough to parade himself about for his followers. To drape his body, wrapped in opulent cloth, across the velvet couch upon his temple dais.

Yes, I made the last part up. I don’t know that he liked to drape himself across couches like a subject waiting to be painted, but with his raven black hair, muscles sculpted by an undoubtedly delicate hand, and a pretty face which did not shift like mine was wont to do, he fit the part well enough.

His fine clothes were ripped and bloody when he staggered up my hillside. And his hair, which looked to have once been drawn back in a sleek braid, was mostly dragged loose, falling in wisps and tangles. His pretty face was cut and broken, and when he pressed a shaking hand upon my wooden walls, he left a smear of ichor, brutal and golden beneath the suns.

“Sanctuary,” he murmured, and his voice was cracked and broken as the rest of him.

I could have barred my door. He might have once been powerful, but it had been cruelly beaten out of him by something.

You, I presume.

No. Enough with the weapon waving. I said I was talking.

I let him in. Don’t ask me why. Maybe stripped of his power, he reminded me of my village devotees. Or maybe I just didn’t want his divinely made flesh to stink up my lawn.

He stumbled in as soon as I opened the door, and immediately collapsed, one hand clutching what was surely a severe wound in his side. If he was as human as he appeared, I’m sure he would have died.

No, he’s not dead.

It was touch-and-go for a while. But, as I’m sure you know, gods are not so easy to kill.

I helped him, pouring some of my own energy into his form. It was like feeding oxygen to a faltering flame. As I worked, he lay limp as a doll, lips half pressed to my wooden floor as his voice rasped, filling the room.

His people call him Praesaro. He told me of how you killed a great number of them, cutting a path so you might reach him. His tears of saltwater and gold dampened the temple floor as he spoke, and where they slipped between the slats of wood, wild clovers sprouted from the soil. His throat was dry and grief-wrung, but I did not need to hear him to feel his overwhelming, aching loss. He’d seen his followers cut down, all while he, their glorious protector, was powerless to stop you.

You smile. Does pain amuse you?

I see. It is not just any pain you seek, but a god’s pain. You cared not for the city you slew, did you? You only wanted the god who protected it. So are you the God Devourer of which the wind has been whispering of late?

I hear conflicting tales of you. The wind says that you came from the skies - or perhaps the heavens. The rocks deep within the earth say that you are not of this world. And the oceans say you smell of strange waters. But all of them are in agreement on this point: You come to consume. And you will not leave until your boundless appetite has feasted upon this world.

And now you do lift that monstrously spiked weapon. You intend to destroy my temple and crush the last of the divine life from poor Praesaro - I can see it in the set of your jaw, the way you bare those sharpened teeth.

You intend to devour me too. In my little temple on this little hill, I probably seem nothing more than a snack to you. But before you unhinge your salivating jaw, dear god eater, let me ask you this:

Do you know why I remain here, on this little hill, above this little village?

It is because I like it here.

Do you feel that? The way the earth trembles beneath your bloodied boots? Or perhaps you’ve noticed the wind and how it nips at your skin. And what about the clouds that darken, bearing down upon my little temple on this single, lonely hill.

I was not entirely honest when I told you that I do not know what I am. Or rather, I have a guess.

You see, I remember when oceans covered these hills, and I remember when tiny creatures filled the shells which are strung up in my temple. I knew where each had burrowed, because they were buried in my soil. The feathers collected for my temple were carried here on my wind. And the pebbles smoothed in my streams.

To these people, I am a minor god, because that is how I wish to be perceived.

But for you, Devourer of Gods, I will deign to stretch out, unfurl.

You came to feast upon gods, little one. I wonder, how will you contend with a world?

You can support my writing on Patreon!

#my writing #prompt #short story #original fiction #fantasy #fantasy fiction #gods #story #writing #spilled ink #prose #writeblr #fiction #short fiction #simple gods

964 notes · View notes

rozhliena · 2 years

Text

mc x belphegor hatefucking

blowjob, mc does not get pleasured at all, power dynamics, allusions to bdsm but it's really not all that, unhealthy relationship like seriously mc is a terrible person, takes place after the syrup debacle but before simeon's play

Some things don’t change in the House of Lamentation. No one is anyone’s keeper down here, so no one cares when Belphie slips away to the attic after dinner. They barely care when you follow suit because they’re all too busy arguing with the angels and talking about the next big ball—you don’t care about all that. There’s enough stress from everything else, which is maybe the real reason that you wind up chasing after Belphegor.

“Got room for one more?“ you ask, don’t wait for a reply before you open the door on your own.

“Rude. What if I’d said no?” But Belphie moves over to give you a place to sit.

“I’d use that pact.” He shrugs, even though he looks disbelieving. You sigh. “They’re so loud.”

“Usually you can handle it.”

You laugh, forcing it out. “Usually I’m not this tired.”

“Take a nap,” he suggests. “I’ll even let you sleep with me.”

And you shake your head at that, closing your eyes. “Not that kind of tired. I mean I need to blow off steam.”

“Oh.” He says this one a bit too meaningfully. You open one eye and he’s looking at you, head tilted, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you need help?”

Usually, you would laugh and say No, thank you very much, but you’re tired and need to do something, anything, and Belphegor can’t be the worst lay you’ll have by any stretch of the imagination. After everything, what else could you have left to lose? So you put some approximation of trust in him, and take a breath. “Yeah, sure. But no hands,” you say. Don't command, just on principle. “Don’t touch me.”

“Fine by me.” Immediately he backs you up against the wall, because he’s into that. “Do you want to tie my hands behind my back?”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” God, you could get claustrophobic in a place like this. The attic ceiling is maybe six inches from your head, and even less for Belphie. You run your hands through his hair, tugging hard enough that it has to hurt, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Watch your mouth,” he says, then nips at your ear, which makes you shudder less from the sensation and more from the sound, some imagined grind of metal on metal, you don't know where it comes from. You impulsively pull his head back by the hair, watching how his eyes glitter as you do.

“It’s kinda pathetic,” Belphie whispers. You sigh and bump your forehead against his, wishing you could stop all this, the mind games and the seeing, but of course you can’t. He presses his mouth to the edge of your lips, and he's smiling. “You keep coming back to me. Even now.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you ask, sharply. “I don’t want to hurt them.” You dig your nails into the back of his neck, hoping to draw blood, or at least to leave angry red marks in his pale skin. “I can’t—I don’t want to.” You can’t talk like you usually do, articulation gone, words lost to the space between your bodies. You shift your weight so his back is to the wall now. He seems to like that a lot, grinning when he speaks again.

“Do you think you’re hurting me?” He goes and says your name so sweetly you could believe it means something.

You reach under his shirt, drag your nails down his back, feeling the bones in his spine, trying to break skin. You imagine the terrible sound of flesh uneasily coming apart. Belphegor doesn’t even flinch. “I hope I am.”

He laughs. His hair brushes up against your face when he leans down, eyes locked on yours. “You’re terrible,” he says, some undercurrent to the words, like fondness, or respect.

You don’t respond because you already know it. Belphegor kisses you softly, no clack of teeth, no teeth at all. You undo his jacket, pull off his shirt, and then his undershirt. Belphie draws back and you knew he’s letting you look, but there’s nothing much to see. Nothing that you haven’t already seen. He’s thin, skinny like some of the boys you could have fucked for fun anytime back in the human world, all ribs and hipbones, but this is the first time you’ve really looked at his body in the light. Makes you want to ruin him more.

You yank off your own shirt, not giving him a moment to ogle, and then kiss him hard, hands gripping his neck. He makes this strangled sound in the back of his throat, a cross between a gasp for air and a sigh, and you feel his hands try to grab your waist before he remembers the order. Good boy. You would never say that one aloud, but you pull back to compliment him on his restraint, lips brushing against his ear.

“Why are you so afraid of commitment?” he asks, before you can speak. He smells half like Beel’s body wash and half like something else entirely—it’s impossible to say what. Forget the compliments, you think. You put some pressure on his throat as you sink your teeth into the lobe of his ear, just enough to leave marks. Intake of breath, rise of shoulders, and no other reaction. You wonder how far you’d have to go before he breaks into his demon form and tries to kill you again. Wonder if that’s something he’d do at all, now. You don’t like thinking about it. Force him down to the ground—though it isn’t really forcing when he complies like this. He looks pretty and fragile, splayed out on the floor of this attic, soft and exposed like the lamb that he isn’t.

“I’m not,” you say, letting go of his neck to feel him up, thinking that he’s probably never let a human do any of this to him before, run their hands along his bare skin, kiss his neck, all that. It feels almost like an honor to see the red marks on his white flesh, even though it’s more of a trophy than anything else. You press your thumbs under the rise of his hips, feel him stiffen for a moment before he relaxes. At this rate, you’ll really have to suck him off.

“Then why don’t you do something?” he says, a little strained, but not undone enough.

You want to pretend you don’t know what he means. Instead, you kiss him loosely on the mouth, hands moving up to his ribs, thinking that his premolars could make scars if he used them. He tastes like something sweet, something with a note of tang to it, but you can’t place what. It doesn’t even matter. You run your hands along his chest and hear him groan, this tiny noise that you would have missed if you hadn’t been paying close attention. Finally, something interesting.

“I don’t want to break anything,” you say when you pull away. Unless it’s you. His face is pink, but his voice is as even as ever.

“What are you scared of?” His eyes seem to flash with a light of their own, and you don’t care anymore.

“Nothing,” you spit. You crouch down, eye level with his hips, and reach out to undo his belt. You look up and lock gazes with him, wondering if you’re imagining the shudder of his body. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

It isn’t difficult to get him hard—already he is, already you could stroke him stupid, throat him right till there’s nothing left inside him. But what fun would that be? The gratification too instant. Hand on the bulge in his boxers, massaging it till he squirms, till he can’t meet your eyes anymore. That’s more like it. You want to ruin him, one way or another, or at least to frustrate him. You pull his boxers down and hover your mouth over his cock, letting your breath fan out over the head of it; his hips almost buck up despite himself. There it is. You could have fun with this. “If you move I’m not even going to let you come.”

“Like you’d let me anyway,” Belphie says curtly, but you see the look in his eye, that demonic urge to prove you wrong. His lips curl up in something like a grin. “Whatever. Fine.”

You click your tongue. “Brat,” you say. You trace the tips of your fingers along his shaft, watching the shudder of his long eyelashes, then abruptly wrap your hand around it and laugh at the way he gasps, how his head falls back against the pillows, the red rising to his face. “Who’s scared now?”

You take him in without warning, rolling your tongue around the tip of his cock, watching. Waiting. To his credit, he doesn’t move, except for his eyes, frantically locked on yours. Good. You grab the base of his cock and pull at the same time you bring your mouth farther along him, letting the taste of pre-cum fill your mouth—a bit earthy, sweet. You hear a mild “Shit” under his breath, feel his muscles tensing with the urge to fuck you in the face, but he doesn’t move.

His cock hits the back of your throat and there’s a groan, then, involuntary if you know anything about him, but lusty. You can’t laugh like this so you swallow instead, drawing back just to press a kiss to the edge of his hip, still working him hard with your hands. You kiss him gently enough that the subsequent edge of your teeth elicits a whimper from him.

“I’m going—”

You hum, run the tip of your tongue along his skin, sucking a scarlet mark into it. “You going to come?”

Belphie inhales sharply. “I’m going to—kill you,” he says with difficulty, which does make you laugh, no humor to it. You bite down on whatever skin you can get between your teeth, the thin, tender portion just in the dip above his thighs, relishing the feeling of—ruining something. Being unfair, because none of this is fair. He sure wasn’t.

You twist his cock just enough that he hisses, half-pain half-pleasure, throbbing in your hand. Never again. You lick your lips, the aftertaste bitter on the tongue, acrid down the throat. Push his hips down, spreading his thighs apart as far as he can go, and scoff, giving him one last look before going in for keeps.

“Be good, why don’t you?” Brushing your lips over his tip, licking along the length of it till he gasps, bringing his cock back into your mouth, too good to him. This is far more than he deserves. You shouldn’t even let him come at all. But he stays still, he’s good at that, the only moving part of him the involuntary twitch of his cock. You raise your brows and fondle his balls, finally taking him all the way down the throat. You listen for the tiny, sweet moan in the back of his throat, feel the jerk of his hips. How about now?

He shakes silently, but you hear another intake of breath and hope he’ll be beyond coherency by the time you’re through. Belphegor cries out your name breathlessly, a sound that burns—you suck him down, swallowing, maybe too good at taking it, satisfied with his vibrations of pleasure because you think they’re all you can get from him—

But he comes like he’d never come in the millennia he’d been alive, thick and rich in your mouth, back arching so well it’s almost beautiful. You take all that, pleasantly surprised, and pull off to examine his flushed face. Quiet but not brooding, that perpetual sulk evened out into something else entirely. When he looks like this you can’t resist kissing the jut of his hip in earnest now—the pleasure of the flesh or something like that, nothing major. The rise and fall of his chest under your hand sure is something, and you look at the bruises on his skin with some pride.

His dick is softening already; you tug it lazily once more just to hear him whine, smallest vocalization. Your hands drift along his body, chest and hips and thighs and neck. You kiss up his stomach to his nipples, kiss those, too, flicking your tongue against them just because you can. Belphie shifts weakly under you now and you’re surprised that he’d even lasted that long, if nipple stimulation alone can get him like this. You move to his neck; his pulse strong beneath your thumb, just as strong under your teeth. There’s that urge to tear out his throat, but you let him off with a small hickey that will fade soon enough.

“Was—was that good enough for you?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically breathy, that post-coital daze caught up to him. You gauge his expression, almost-glassy, eyes framed by those long lashes of his.

“Just awful.” You catch his mouth with yours, slow and deep. Afterglow physicality, nothing to it—you would do this with anyone after giving them head, and he tastes sweeter now than he had earlier. Belphie moans against your lips, all semblance of dignity lost.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmurs.

“Whatever. Was it good enough for you?”

He kisses you softly. “Worst cock-sucking I’ve ever gotten in my life.”

“And how many of those have you had altogether, including this?”

“One.”

You snort. “So it was also the best.”

“I guess you could say that.” Belphegor draws back, looking at you through his lashes, almost too at home on the floor. “What about you?”

“I’d like to think I give a good blowjob.”

“You know what I mean. Did you let off enough steam?”

So that’s where this is going. You scoff. “Yeah.” It could be nice, the fact that he asked, but the fact that he’s the one doing the asking is too much. His eyes aren’t so glazed-over now, and it’s harder to have that approximation of trust when they’re clear like this. “I’ll jack off on my own, thanks. Your brothers will be wondering where we went, anyway.”

“You hate relying on other people, don’t you? Or being indebted.”

“I hate when you touch me, is what. I can’t stand it.”

He goes quiet at that. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” You’ve been through this one already. It doesn’t heal anything. It doesn’t bring you back to life. “Put your clothes on and clean up a little. I’m washing up.”

In the tiny attic bathroom, you wash your hands till you can’t even feel the residue, rinse around your mouth and gargle till the taste of him is gone, wipe yourself down just for the sake of it. You splash your face and stare into the dirty mirror, cold water dripping down your chin. Keep looking till the weak, diluted expression in your eyes becomes just that—an expression and nothing more. And soon you can’t recognize yourself at all.

#obey me #omnsfw #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me belphie #obey me smut #spiicings

102 notes · View notes

lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

First Lady of the Court

Part 3: Ghostbur (C!Wilbur Soot x reader)

A worn journal was opened, the pages faded and yellowing, a pen was placed on the parchment and the owner began to write. The sun rose over the horizon, and the wind nipped at the writer's skin, but they didn’t feel it. They didn’t feel many of life's sensations anymore, sometimes he felt warmth but it was always fleeting. He titled the page:

"Things I Remember", by Ghostbur

-The smell of bread

- L'Manberg

- The Revolution

- Bullying Tommy (he's a child)

- Sparring with Techno as a kid

- The wind

- Being president

- People cheering for me

- Fundy growing up

- Niki

- (Y/N) becoming my first lady

- The van

- Tubbo building everything

- Phil protecting me

- Sally the salmon

- (Y/N) the new love of my life

- (Y/N) adoring Fundy and treating him as her own

- Philza stabbing me to death with a sword

- A large explosion

-(Y/N) crying for me, I don’t like when she’s sad

- The taste of salt

- Air in my lungs

- Winning the election

- A ravine

- Techno's armory

- Books

- Tunnels

- Arrows

- ./..

- I don't know

The ghost’s head snapped up to attention, up until a few months ago he was lost in a void of darkness. Pieces were coming back together for him, he was once Wilbur Soot the president of the country he fought and died for, but now he didn’t have a purpose. He wanted to find Fundy, Tommy and Phil let them know he was here and alright, well alright for a ghost. But most importantly he wanted to find (Y/N), her cries wouldn’t leave his head. It was bad, a bad, bad memory, he’d taken to holding pieces of blue to make him feel better, but even that didn’t help his mood.

Eventually, Wilbur had found Fundy, who wasn’t that thrilled to see him, much to his disappointment. When he found Tommy he was slightly more thrilled and Phil seemed to be relieved yet mournful, Wilbur didn’t understand why, he did a good thing. However he had yet to find her, Phil seemed to be the only one who knew but he was giving him nothing. He didn’t know why was it because you didn’t want to see him? The thought made him want to cover himself in blue and beg for forgiveness. He managed to find a brand new buddy in his mourning, a blue sheep he had dubbed Friend. You would love her, (Y/N) adored sheep she would love Friend, she could be a forgiveness gift. Yet, nobody would tell the ghost where you were no matter how much he begged and pleaded, he watched as his once-prosperous country got rebuilt. Tubbo was doing a fantastic job as president, everyone seemed happy and Ghostbur accepted that fact.

A few days ago, Ghostbur sensed something was wrong. Phil was acting weirdly distant and even though Tubbo was trying to dodge his questions, he couldn’t fathom what was going on, until he saw you. You had come in wearing Alivebur’s old jacket and Ghostbur immediately froze, your hair was slightly messy and you looked tired. You were still you, same gorgeous, beautiful you, if his heart was still beating it would’ve skipped a beat. The only difference he could find was that your eyes looked deader than his own, and he was a ghost, it made him ache terribly. He wanted to float towards you, to welcome you with open arms but for some reason, he hesitated. He watched as Phil made his way over to you, he wrapped you in a hug and you hugged him back, the two made some small talk before Phil rubbed the back of his neck. Your brow furrowed and he watched you blink in surprise, you looked over Phil’s shoulder and right through Wilbur. The ghost would’ve flushed if he had blood, instead he settled on fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater before holding up a hand in a wave. You stumbled back away from him looking over at Phil who gave a little nod, Wilbur watched you shake your head and his heart sunk. His father reached out to you and your face scrunched up, you were hissing at him, clearly pissed off. Phil whacked you on the back of his head and you glared at the older man, Wilbur felt a small nudge on his arm, it was Friend. He took a shaky breath and ran his fingers through her wool, at least she had his back, when he looked up again you were marching over to him.

God, you were hot when you were mad.

“(Y/n)! Darling! It’s good to see you-”

“You son of a bitch!” You spat at him, eyes suddenly blazing with life and fire, Ghostbur felt himself falter and shrink into himself. “You think you can just come back here after what you did to us! How you treated us, how you treated me!” Ghostbur’s face fell, he didn’t remember hurting you, he refused to remember that memory, but the way he clutched his blue said enough. “I loved you! I wanted to marry you!” You choked out suddenly deflating as tears began to well in your eyes, you cursed and covered your face with your sleeve. “I cannot believe I’m crying right now.”

“You need some blue?” Wilbur said in a soft, tender voice different than you last remembered. You looked out over your sleeve finally taking in his ghostly appearance, he was wearing his big, round glasses, eyes a soft grey. Blue seemed to be pooling in the edges almost like tears, he had a shaky smile on his features, the yellow sweater he wore was one you’ve never seen before, a large red gash sat on his chest. He watched you swallow thickly and take a step back from him, “I don’t remember what happened to make you hate me so dear.” His voice quivered and he heard you whimper, “But I am so sorry...you can call me Ghostbur, I want to be different from Alivebur. Though his love for you still lives in me.”

Ghostbur watched you let out a heart-wrenching sob as you fell to your knees in front of him. You were clutching the L’manburg pin on your lapel, knuckles white, hands shaking in petrification. He floated beside you and wrapped you up in his arms, the hug wasn’t unwelcome but it was cold, Wilbur knew you’d feel no warmth from it but he hoped it’d bring you some form of comfort.

“I missed you. So much,” You admitted with a sniff, and Ghostbur couldn’t help but smile sadly.

“I missed you too,” He ran a hand through your hair and you leaned into the apparition's ghostly touch. Ghostbur glanced up at Phil who had a tense smile on his face as he nodded slightly at the ghost, it read don’t hurt her again, and Wilbur nodded. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you, you need to meet Friend!” His eyes lit up a little as he looked around for his blue sheep, “You’ll love her!”

“I’ve been living with Fundy,” You answered his question and his brows furrowed, but Fundy had told him he had no idea where you lived. “We’ve been taking care of one another, just like I promised you we would,” You responded flatly, your voice had a flat affect and Wilbur shuffled uncomfortably in the air.

Where was your spark? Your lust for life and the good things? Was this his fault?

No. No, it couldn’t have been, he refused to accept that outcome.

Alivebur loved you just as much as Ghostbur did, he felt that love so deep in his being it was almost suffocating. So, he’d never hurt you, you don’t hurt the people you love and that’s a fact. So why were you so sad?

“That’s weird. Fundy said he couldn’t find you!” Ghostbur huffed, shaking his head at his son's actions, “My silly, little champion.”

“Ghostbur don’t call him that, he doesn’t like it.” You stated gruffly crossing your arms and his frown only deepened,

“What do you mean he doesn’t like it? Of course, he likes it, he loves it!”

“No Wil he doesn’t. Stop it.” You hissed and he flinched, your face fell a little and you turned away from him. You shoved your hands in the pockets of the jacket, “I need a smoke.” You muttered and his jaw dropped,

“That’s bad for you! You know that!”

“So what? It makes me fucking feel better. You’re not my Wilbur. Stop pretending you give a shit about me.”

“I do care! I love you!” He argued desperately, “I know I’m not him. I can never be him but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. His love transferred to me, please...give me a chance.” You looked at him up and down and he’s never felt more terrified in his entire existence, he needed your hope, he could fix you.

“You don’t understand how much he hurt me.” You whispered completely vulnerable, “he went crazy, blew up a nation, and left me alone.”

He. Meaning Alivebur, Ghostbur was glad he was distinguishing the difference between the both of them. He didn’t remember doing that to you, after all, Ghostbur didn’t do that to you.

“I’ll never leave you alone. I can promise you that, with my whole heart I swear it.” He took your hands within his own, he knew you could barely feel his touch. You closed your eyes for a minute before reopening them,

“I’ll give you one chance. One. So help me god, if you ruin that chance I will never speak to you again. That’s a promise.”

Ghostbur swallowed thickly, nerves prickling at his entire being, “I won’t waste that chance, my dear.” You gave a stern nod and rubbed the back of your neck with a tired sigh,

“So...Friend?”

Ghostbur’s entire demeanor changed as he introduced you to the blue sheep that had taken a rather strong liking to him. The sheep nuzzled at your chest sniffing at your clothing choice, you hesitated a little before running your fingers through her wool.

“She’s very soft.”

“I know right!” he chimed wrapping his arms tight around his sheepy buddy, he buried his face in her wool. Ghostbur saw a weary smile spread across your face which made him smile back at you in return.

Maybe this could still work out for the both of you.

Months went by and you had set up residence outside of New L’manburg, everyone understood why you couldn’t make a permanent home out of the new country after everything that occurred there. In between watching over an exiled Tommy, Ghostbur would come by and visit you, even though you hated to admit it the ghost of your former lover had won you over. He was just so innocent so unlike the man who blew up his own country, so much like the goofball you had originally fallen in love with, you were enraptured. When New L’manburg blew up you weren’t surprised, there was a dull ache in your heart when you heard the news from a sobbing Ghostbur but you couldn’t feel sympathy. What you did feel sympathy about though was Phil’s uncaring attitude towards Friend, it was the first time you heard Ghostbur get legitimately angry.

It scared you more than you wanted to admit.

Even so, you confronted your former lover; he didn’t like sadness and tried to push the feeling away. You tried to comfort him the best way you could but he insisted he was fine opting to take his blue and forget his sadness. That was another thing, his quote on quote blue, it never did sit right with you. Hurt, sadness, and pain are hard emotions to face but they create character and depth and ultimately shouldn’t just be forgotten so easily, after all, how will you ever learn from your mistakes if you don’t experience sadness. Ghostbur didn’t want to hear your reasoning and still took towards using the blue, you eventually gave up trying to convince him otherwise.

You were sitting outside on your porch, rocking on your porch swing a cup of cocoa in your hand. Ghostbur was sitting beside you, head on your shoulder humming a soft tune to himself,

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Ghostbur had asked so innocently it made your heart leap into your throat. Thoughts of Wilbur and his betrayal flashed across your mind, you wanted to scream and say no. That you’ll never let someone like that hurt you again, you were too strong, you opened your mouth but the hope in Ghostbur’s eyes made you close your mouth. This wasn’t the Wilbur you knew, this was Ghostbur, sure he was the ghost of Wilbur but they were so different. Ghostbur made you happy, he made you remember what it was like to be a good person, made you remember what it was like when you first met Wilbur. He made you smile and laugh, and he genuinely adored and cared for your happiness. You found yourself uttering a soft okay before your brain could comprehend your decision, the smile that lit up across Ghostbur’s face was illuminating. He floated over to you and cupped your cheeks, his pale hands were freezing, but it felt good against your scalding hot cheeks. Ghostbur’s eyes softened as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a soft kiss, the kiss was cold but not unpleasant. You felt him melt against you, and press desperately on to your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle you felt him pull away. He had the cutest pout on his pale lips,

“Don’t giggle at my kisses!” Ghostbur sounded so offended, you only laughed harder. “Stopppppppp,” he whined leaning against you dramatically.

“I’m sorry Ghostbur.” You covered your mouth with your hand, “You’re just too cute.”

You watched him freeze at your genuine compliment, a smile broke across his features,

“No, you’re cute!” Ghostbur cooed floating around you and wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You leaned into his touch with bright red cheeks,

“You’re a goofball,” You whispered softly, he nuzzled his face into your hair,

“I love you.” You froze in his arms and tensed up, reality crashing back onto all at once. Did you really kiss your dead lover's ghost? The lover who was a fucking asshole to you and blew up an entire country.

Not a girl boss moment.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Ghostbur was quick to add, “I know how hard this is for you. There’s no pressure with me my dear, I just want you to know how I feel.” He pressed the sweetest of kisses to the side of your head. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, not out of sadness, out of shock. You couldn’t believe Ghostbur was once Wilbur, the same man you yelled and screamed at you before his death, Ghostbur was wonderful. Ghostbur was kind and sweet, gentle and tender, one day you’d be ready to say you love him, just not yet, not when everything is so fresh.

“Thank you Ghostbur. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Anything for you my dear.”

Months turned into years and you had officially fallen in love with your clingy ghost and his blue sheep. You knew he loved you to absolute bits, there were many occasions where Phil and Technoblade came up to you and begged you to get Ghostbur to stop gushing about you. You only turned red and smiled fondly, they scoffed but ruffled your hair, overall both were happy to see you smiling again. You hadn’t kept up with the dramas of the SMP, all your information was from Ghostbur, which happened to be not all that reliable.

You loved him but he was so naive, Tommy and Tubbo had defeated Dream, taken two of his cannon lives, and locked him in Sam’s prison. When Ghostbur told you a smile overtook your features, finally the bastard was getting what he deserved.

Isolation.

Tommy was growing closer with Ghostbur again too, which you couldn’t help but be happy about, he too deserved to heal from the trauma Wilbur had inflicted. You trusted Tommy, even when everyone else didn’t you tried to have his back and showed you he cared in his own weird way. Which mostly meant not stealing your shit, which you weren’t complaining about, today, however, he seemed tense. You both were walking the Prime Path on your way back to your abode, Tommy was loud and rambling, but they were different from his usual ramblings.

“Tommy?”

“What is it, women? I’m in the middle of my heroic story!”

“Are you alright?” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and saw him go rigid. He cleared his throat shaking away his nerves,

“Fuck you talking about? Of course, I’m okay bitch. Don’t interrupt me again!” He scoffed nose high in the air, you narrowed your eyes and he shrunk under your gaze. “I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, you thought about his resurrection and assumed it had something to do with that, your gaze drifted to the white streaks littering his hair.

“Hey...it’s okay. Just know I’m here for you,” You assured with a smile. You reached up to squeeze his shoulder, he looked shocked at the affectionate gesture,

“Obviously I know that! Don’t assume things bitch!” Tommy shouted shaking off your hand, you shook your head with a smile and let Tommy continue his story. If the young boy wanted to tell you, he would on his own terms. That night Ghostbur had come home absolutely shaking with excitement,

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo said we’re going on an adventure tonight!” Ghostbur was absolutely glowing, you couldn’t help but smile faintly at his antics.

“Don’t have too much fun.” You chastised teasingly, ghostbur giggled in delight as you pressed a kiss to his cold skin. “Stay safe, don’t let them bully you too much.”

“They don’t bully me,” he huffed but he leaned in for another kiss. Ghostbur had discovered he loved your kisses, even though they were probably cold to you all he felt was warmth. If he was a hybrid like his son his tail would be wagging, and if he was alive he’d be bright red. “I love you (y/n), of course, I’ll stay safe. I promised you I’d never leave you remember?”

You flushed and nodded, “I remember. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Until then my dear!” He took your hand within his own and kissed the tops of your knuckles. You flushed pink and he sent you a cheeky grin,

“Get out of here loverboy! Don’t keep the children waiting!” You shouted as he floated out the door with a giant wave,

“I’ll be sending you kisses!”

“Ghostbur oh my god, go already!” You giggled with a fond roll of your eyes, he laughed loudly and floated out the door.

You should’ve told him you loved him. It’s okay, there would always be tomorrow.

You were getting ready for bed when Tubbo called you over the walkie-talkie, he was frantically apologizing and pleading for you to come to the crater that was L’manburg. Tommy then stole the walkie talking and started shouting about Ghostbur and your heart sink into your chest. He didn’t make a whole lot of sense but you put on a coat over your pajamas and ran in the direction of the once-prosperous nation. When you got there Tubbo and Tommy were a mess, Ranboo was trying to calm them down and Friend looked uncomfortable.

Where was Ghostbur?

You opened your mouth to call out to the boys when a pair of arms snuck around your waist. They were warm and real, pale hands caressed your abdomen,

“Hi, darling. Did you miss me?” Warm lips handed on your neck, “I missed you.”

Wilbur was back.

~~~ @blossom-702 @mayempress @thatguythatsshy

389 notes · View notes

obiwanobi · 3 years

Note

Force Sensitive Senator Skywalker au where no one knows that he's insanely powerful (perhaps through lore passed down by slaves on Tatooine to help conceal 'valuable' force sensitive children, maybe necklaces?). Anakin knows he has powers- lots of them were SUPER helpful for killing Hutts- but not the 'Force'. Obviously the Jedi are way cooler than him. Palpatine hates him but this fool somehow keeps avoiding assassination? Resistant to mind tricks? He always knows when Obi-wan is around?? (1/2)

at some point he has a dream involving tatooine and obi-wan but doesn’t think obi will believe him. He somehow tricks obi-wan into going with him? maybe literally kidnaps him? Eventually he comes clean but Obi thinks he can’t be that powerful. Maybe teach a little meditation. At some point Obi-wan convinces him to remove whatever is concealing his powers and has to leave to scream. just a tiny scream. Can’t decide if Sith Senator Obi-wan or Jedi Obi-wan would be funnier (2/2)

I love it!

I hope that in this AU, Anakin sees this Jedi sent to protect him from the mysterious incidents that keep happening to him (Palpatine is out to get him, he can’t believe this senator just won’t die already) with his polite disinterest for politicians but a good and kind aura in the Force, and goes ‘my inexplicable but useful spider-sense is telling me he’s the one’ and then never stops bothering him until they become (reluctant) friends.

And Obi-Wan, just? doesn’t understand? Because logically, this guy should be DEAD by now. By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense that Senator Skywalker survived that many disasters/murder attempts and wasn’t even maimed along the way. And now that he has spent more time around him, he has noticed that sometimes Skywalker just knows which places to avoid, or says something that Obi-Wan was thinking just a second before he can say it, and that’s why he has asked him if he’s sure he’s 100% human more than once (he doesn’t know that sometimes people can almost see Anakin’s brain going ‘ping!’ when Obi-Wan is around, and immediately turns his head towards a door 5 seconds before Obi-Wan opens it.)

I love the idea of Anakin kidnapping Obi-Wan to bring him to Tatooine, he feels like he needs to get there and obviously, Obi-Wan should come with him. So Obi-Wan wakes up in the co-pilot seat on their way to Tatooine, like “...Did you just.” “I KNOW, I’M SORRY, I PANICKED.” “Did you really knocked me out?” “NO— well, yes. You said there were no reasons for you to come, so what was I supposed to do?” “Not THIS.” “I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me, I promise the bump behind your head isn’t that big.” “The wha— oh, great. I can’t believe you knocked me out and I didn’t sense it.” “Hey, the Force got nothing on me!” “Don’t try to be charming and bring me back t—.... Anakin. Anakin did you really tied me to the seat. Anakin, did you really—”

So here you have Senator Skywalker and his very grumpy Jedi on Tatooine, and at one point Anakin tells him that he needs something to blend in, something else than a poncho (”It looks terrible,” Obi-Wan mutters, determined to look like the whole trip is the worst thing that ever happened to him. “That’s because you’re the one wearing it,” Anakin replies without even looking at him.) and he gives him the traditional necklace he always wears, telling him not to lose it because his mother gave it to him.

The exact second Anakin takes it off, Obi-Wan starts choking on air. Anakin seriously thinks he’s having a heart attack when he can’t seem to form coherent words and has to put his hands on his knees. There’s a weird sensation around Anakin too, like someone poking at him, almost probing, and then Obi-Wan looks at him in the eyes with a terrifying blank expression and says “Would you mind giving me a second? I need to go scream in the desert.”

#palps trying a mind trick on him and anakin just blinks and says ‘is there a fly around you?’#why are you waving your hand in front of me?’#‘it’s a bit rude you can just ask me to leave you know’ and palps wants to scream #senator skywalker au #clem's aus #asks #anon #we're going to pretend I'm not answering 200 years later to this ask

740 notes · View notes

1kook · 3 years

Text

commercial break ; EIGHT

this is part of my netflix & chill series! takes place a little after part 7 :)

SUMMARY You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give. But Jungkook is the same. WARNINGS unprotected sex, nipple clamps, overstimulation, pretty pet names for jk, oc is so fckin horNEE, both have a high sex drive, oc is obsessed with the koobies MISC flashbacks to jk’s ex gf yes you read right!, there’s backstory yuck, taehyung the bestie, jk is just so happy where he is now <3 RATING m (18+) WC 1.9k

NOTES finally after six months..... we get a glimpse of jk’s life pre-netflix n chill 🥶 also i just rlly wanted to write jk wearing the nipple clamps hehe

Taehyung had warned him about this.

“As hard as it is to believe,” he had said one night during their first year of university, haphazardly parked outside of a Wendy’s at three in the morning. Jungkook was trying to finish an assignment— early, always early —when he had been abruptly hauled to fulfill Taehyung’s spicy chicken sandwich craving. “Girls are hornier than guys.”

Jungkook remembers it so clearly.

He had chuckled, had harbored this feeling of contentment, of belonging, with his best friend beside him, talking about the most mundane things. “No way,” he had said. He had only broken up with Haerim last month; his first girlfriend, his first heartbreak, all in his first year of college. So he wasn’t particularly bothered with women at the moment, and he probably wouldn’t be for a long time. He quite liked this life of solitude, the peaceful waves brought upon by the comfort of being alone, the occasional break in the water when Taehyung or Namjoon checked in on him.

Taehyung, on the other hand, had always been concerned with women. A furious nod, huge eyes. “Dude, I swear,” he had exclaimed, and then had launched into a full feature recapture of how horny his then-girlfriend always was. Jungkook had simply listened— it’s what he does best —and nodded along when Taehyung continued his silly ramblings.

He can still remember his thought process.

Of course girls are horny. But Jungkook doubts they’re as horny as him or any of the guys he knew. Speaking for himself, Jungkook knows his sex drive is too high; too high for someone who’s only lost his virginity earlier that year.

Haerim had once told him he asked for too much. And Jungkook understood, really; she was his first, and maybe he got a little too excited in his conquest to try everything, a conquest she wasn’t too keen on joining. “Do you even like me?” she had asked the night they broke up. “Or do you just want to have sex?”

Both, he remembers thinking, but that thought had felt like the wrong answer to give her. Her words had made him squirm, had made him feel so small. Was he asking her for too much? Was Jungkook too much— a handful for her to deal with? Jungkook’s love language had always been physical touch. He thought she understood that.

They parted ways in the most mature way possible. A simple break-up, no hard feelings. Jungkook felt terrible. He had pushed her too far, had asked for too much. They aren’t as horny as guys, he remembers thinking. Or at least, not as horny as Jungkook.

In the end, Jungkook remembers politely disagreeing with Taehyung on the matter.

Until now, nearly four years later, with your hands circling his bare waist.

He’d just finished nailing you into the mattress not even ten minutes ago, had fucked his cock into you until you were screaming so loud your neighbor had banged on your shared wall. Your lips are soft against his shoulder, the prettiest little giggle slipping past them. It’s pitch black outside, your room enveloped in shadows, but the warmth you press against his back is akin to that of the sun’s; Jungkook can’t think of a more fitting comparison. “I was thinking,” you purr, voice like warm honey down his throat. It makes him melt, has his eyes fluttering shut as your hands trace feathery lines against the waistband of his boxers.

“That’s not good,” he manages to murmur, trapping your hand over his belly button. You make this sound, something between a satisfied hum and a moan; Jungkook wants nothing more than to spread your legs far apart and lick you down the middle. You shuffle closer behind him. He can feel your tits against his back, the hardened nub of your nipples.

But it appears Jungkook isn’t the only one interested in nipples tonight.

“The clamps,” you whisper, voice nearly lost under the thrum of the air conditioning, the steady beat of his heart in his chest.

And in that moment, Jungkook truly understands what Taehyung had meant that night.

They sting, terribly so, make him feel like someone is going to rip his nipples out of his chest at any moment. But at the same time, they make his toes curl, make Jungkook grind his teeth together in a feeble attempt to dismiss the pleasure.

On top of that, the look on your face when Jungkook leans over you, the thin metal chain of the nipple clamps touching your chin, is enough to fuel his solo sessions for years to come. “Oh,” you gasp, trembling hand reaching up for the glittering chain.

Jungkook hisses at the tug, accidentally bucks forward into the warm cradle between your legs. It makes you whimper, hand on his shoulder, the other holding onto the cruel device on his chest. “Fuck,” he bites, brows furrowed together as he glares down at you.

“S- So pretty,” you slur, delirious. Jungkook’s not even inside of you, just has his cock resting on your hip. He thinks there might be a droplet of drool clinging to your lips. “Jungkook,” you breathe, finally lifting the other hand to his chest, thumb caressing the pretty gold clamp that is squeezing the life out of his nipple. It feels so good, and Jungkook is so embarrassed.

You let him in soon enough, eyes trained on his flushed chest as he sinks into you. You’re still so loose, so wet and tender from the fucking he gave you earlier, from the two orgasms from before. He can’t comprehend how you’re still asking for more, capable of more, after he had spit in your mouth, bent you like a pretzel, and all but consumed your entire being in his earlier lust.

He reaches the hilt and you tug at Jungkook’s clamps, make his chest jerk forward in surprise. “Fuck!” he chokes, hand on the back of your thigh around him. “Don’t f- fucking do that,” he begs, but it feels so good and you’re so entranced, he hardly thinks you hear him.

It’s like you’re stuck in a daze, tiny mouth opening to release the sweetest little moans, eyes scarily trained on his chest. It’s like you don’t see him, don’t see Jungkook right before you, and for some reason… he adores the feeling. “Look at me,” he whispers, testing the waters.

You spare him a glance, a supportive smile, and then it’s back to staring at his nipples.

It makes Jungkook awfully hard.

In a weird, roundabout sort of way, it’s like he’s being used. Like he’s nothing but a pawn in your lustful schemes, just a visual stimulus to help get you off; in short, it’s a teensy bit degrading. Dismissive. Whatever you want to call it.

His dick twitches at the thought.

And, like always, you’re in perfect step with him. Another tug at the chain, another moan torn from his lips. “So pretty for me,” you croon. It’s his line, you know it’s always been his line. Jungkook pushes deeper into you, but aside from a sinful cry, it doesn’t deter you. A wicked grin crosses your features, hand crawling around his neck to tangle in his locks again. “Tits all pink,” you shiver, tapping the pad of a finger against his nipple. Jungkook’s eyes roll to the back of his head, bucks forward suddenly.

“N- Not pretty,” he growls, pushing you down deeper against the sheets, like maybe they’ll swallow you up and he’ll be saved from your lewd ways. “You’re pretty.”

You chuckle, and then contradict the sweet tone of your voice with a harsh tug against his clamps. Jungkook all but howls, pistons into you until he feels your cervix kiss his tip, call him forward, practically beg for him to fill you whole. “Prettiest boy,” you whimper, tracing his swollen nipple with your finger as if it’ll soothe the prickling sensations that shoot down his spine, makes him rut deeper into you.

Jungkook wants to cum so badly, wants to spill his seed down your insides until it paints every wall, kisses every inch, until it’s physically impossible for you to not be pregnant.

But the worst thing is, Jungkook is so terribly spent from the early events of that night, that the mere thought of coming again sounds like it would be painful. Of course, Jungkook immediately realizes the hypocrisy in his statement— he frequently makes you come various times in one night, sometimes in the span of a few minutes —but he never thought he’d be on the receiving end of this— this— overstimulation.

Your walls squeeze around him, your fingers playfully tugging at the chain in intervals until Jungkook’s back arches forward, hips grinding against your quivering opening. “Cum inside,” you pant, curling one finger around the wretched contraption that seems intent on killing him slowly. He groans, hips snapping at your offer. He wants to so badly, but his toes curl, stomach tightens almost ominously. “Maybe if you do it a second time I’ll get p—“

“Shut up,” he begs, gasping for breath. You manage to laugh through a moan, harshly yanking your fist towards you in a motion that nearly has him crashing down on top of you. “I can’t—“ he shudders, forearms trembling.

“You can,” you encourage, ankles locking together at the base of his spine. His every being feels overwhelmed, head like TV static. His dick throbs, practically begs for another orgasm that Jungkook fears will tear him apart, leave him a boneless pile of limbs for days. And his chest— “look, Jungkook,” you purr, pinching the already tortured nub between your fingers, “look at your fucking tits” —feels like heaven.

It only takes a few more rushed thrusts, your stuttering moans like music to his ears, and a particularly brutal pull of the clamps on his chest, before Jungkook is bursting. And it’s painful, just as he thought, makes him release the most airy, fluttery whine. It’s so embarrassing, and frankly surprising, how high his voice can get, but it makes you beam beneath him. “Oh, such a good boy,” you coo, catching him in your arms when he slumps forward, chest against yours.

He’s as boneless as he predicted, jaw twitching as he tries to gather himself into an acceptable state again. “Fuck you,” he groans, hips jerking with the after shocks of such a stimulated orgasm.

You laugh, carding your hands through his hair. “You were made to wear cute things like that,” you mumble, lips pressed against his temple.

Before he can speak (not that he knows what he’d say), you’re tugging him back by his hair, looking like you’ll eat him alive. He wants you to. “The cuffs,” you murmur, nose knocking against his. “Let’s try those on you next.”

You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give.

But Jungkook is the same. You match him so well, fill the gaps when he’s too shy, lay yourself out when he needs more.

(“You ask for too much,” Haerim had confessed, staring him down from the doorway of his dormitory. The room had always felt small, but today it feels miniature. Like the walls are closing in on him; he can’t breathe. “I don’t think anyone in this world can keep you satisfied, Jeon Jungkook.”)

Your heel knocks against the back of his thigh, and he is suddenly made aware of the trembling lips of your cunt around his cock, still so wet— still so horny. “Again?” you ask so sweetly, fingers dancing across his back.

Jungkook shivers. “Again.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #jungkook fic #bts smut #mine

997 notes · View notes

missallsundaes · 3 years

Note

May I have a notsafeforwork Buggy x nb reader where he's in a FOUL mood and everyone's like pssst take one for the team and cheer the bastard up since its obvious to everyone but Buggy and reader their into one another anyway. Thanks x

oooh fun fun prompt.. I love Buggy… probably too much. BUT that means that yeah you can absolutely have nsfw Buggy.

CW: face fucking, devil fruit nonsense, doggy style.

The clown had definitely been taking his anger out on the Big Top, you could nearly retrace his steps through the destruction in the hallways. You definitely wished that today wasn’t the day you were looking for him, especially to deliver some bad news delivered via DenDen Moshi. You found Cabaji and Alvida before you found the Captain. They were deep in talk on the deck of the ship, and as soon as they say you, Alvida’s eyes lit up, plan already hatched in her mind.

“Just the errand keeper I needed,” She said, waving you over. “Buggy is in just a terrible mood today isn’t he, Cabaji?”

He nodded, “I don’t know what’s wrong with the Captain but he’s mad at just about everything.”

“So I was thinking,” Alvida continued, barely giving Cabaji time to finish confirming her previous sentence, “You know how the Captain has a shine for you?”

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, “Does he?” You weren’t quite playing dumb, you just really hadn’t noticed any favourable conditions he had given you, though you admitted you had seen him more than once in different states of undress that made your mind wander.

Cabaji nodded as Alvida continued, “Yeah, definitely, have you never noticed the way he watches you?” She laughed. “Anyway so we were thinking, what’s the best stress relief? Sex. Right. Sex. So what you’re gonna—“

Your face flushed red, “You want me to fuck the Captain?”

“Well there’s not.. anyone better suited for it,” Alvida said, and Cabaji nodded again. She opened the door near where you were standing. “He’s in the Captain’s Office, I believe” The shouting and smashing from down the hallway would make you believe that was definitely the case. She gave you a little push down the hallway, giving you a smile and a thumbs up before shutting the door behind you.

You were suddenly much more nervous to find your captain than you were a minute ago, especially because you weren’t sure if he had talked to Alvida before you had. You knocked on the door to his office, and the door swung open almost immediately.

The clown’s face was in yours as the door swung open, “WHAT?” He shouted, his eyebrows knit together over the crossbones drawn on his face.

“Uh, Alvida sent me?” You tried, maybe going with the subtle, if he hadn’t talked to her yet.

“For fucks sake, why? Do I not have enough to deal with today?” He turned around, stomping back to his desk and flipping over paperwork. “This goddamn Warlord paperwork is more than I want to do, I’m a pirate I’m not meant to do paperwork, I’m meant to pillage and loot!” He said, gesturing wildly at the room, as if talking to a crowd and not just you behind him.

You slid into the room, shutting the door behind you.

“If It would help relieve some stress,” You said, summoning the courage from deep inside your belly, “You could.. pillage me?”

His head whipped around, disconnecting from his neck in an absolutely terrifying sight, “Are you suggesting what I think?”

“I mean, if it would help.” You nodded, “It’s not like I haven’t had fantasies about you Captain..” Oh gods, that was more than you meant to admit but now it was out there and you were just gonna deal with those consequences.

His hands were on your hips in seconds, lifting you up and pulling you towards him, he had turned his body to face you now as well, a crooked dirty smile on his lips, and hungry look in his eyes.

“You know your Captain doesn’t share, right?” He said once you were positioned in front of him, his voice husky and deep on your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m just yours Captain.” You managed to croak out, his hands now exploring your body, his gloved fingers exploring your bare skin, one tracing down your spine and the other down into the front of your trousers to feel your arousal.

His body pressed into you, he nibbled on your neck, leaving marks behind as he tracked his way to your chin. You could feel his erection against your thigh, pressing desperately, impatiently into your soft skin.

His left hand reattached to his wrist, the other pawing at your sex, making you writhe and mewl for more of his ministrations.

His arm moved around you and he scooped you up into his arms and set you on the desk, scattering the paperwork across the floor, he ripped open your top, buttons flying across the room from his violent action, his teeth finding your bare skin to bite and suckle on, making you moan for him more. He pulled his hand from your body, causing you to whine at the missing sensation, and you felt him smirk against your body.

“Like it that much, did’ya?” He crooned, you looked down at him, nodding weakly, seeing the red of his lipstick smeared on his face and across your chest, sending new fire to your loins.

“Yes Captain, please more,” You mumbled, reaching your hands up to find his hair spilling from the corners of his hat, but he moved quicker, taking the hat off completely and letting his hair fall down around your face.

“What was that, Couldn’t hear you?” He said, pulling down your trousers and underwear from your hips, letting gloved hands tease down your thighs.

“Please Captain Buggy, more,” You said, feeling him tugging down his trousers, “Please Captain, let me suck your dick” You moaned as he bit your nipple, leaving a ring of his lipstick around your areola. “I want to suck your dick.”

He backed up from you, sitting in his chair behind the desk, “Come on then, suck my cock.” He said, gesturing to his hard member standing at attention between his legs. You let yourself slide off the desk and between his legs, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and your lips around his swollen glands. He moaned above you, his hands finding their way into your hair and pressing you to swallow more of his cock. You flattened your tongue, sucking down more of his dick and rotating your hand to stimulate him at the same time. Flicking your tongue against the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft as you hollowed your cheeks on his member, devouring him like he was your last meal.

The hand on your head pulled you back, freeing your mouth and letting your spit dribble from the corners of your lips. You breathed deeply, catching your breath and trying to get back to his cock, tongue lolling out of your mouth in a greedy slutty show for him, but he was holding you just out of range, sadistic smile on his face above you.

“Are you that hungry for me, you little tramp,” He said, letting you pull your own hair as you tried to reach his member with your lips again. “Ask again for what you want,”

“I want your cock, Captain,” You said without hesitation, licking your lips as you looked up at him in his chair, “Please Captain let me have it.”

He brought you down swiftly, your mouth opening on instinct to take him to the hilt, he held you in place before using your hair as a handle to fuck your face. His hips eagerly thrusting with the same rhythm as his hand as he used you like a personal toy.

You could feel his posture tighten under you, and he held you still, trying to not let himself come yet, his dick down your throat and twitching, eager to let loose the pent up seed. He let himself calm down before pulling you off of him and letting go of your hair.

“I need to fuck you, I need to be inside you.” He said, voice deep and commanding. You eagerly stood up, laying yourself across his desk, knee up on the firm oak of the desk so he had easy access to your awaiting hole.

“Mmm, good, well trained already,” He hummed behind you, standing behind you to position himself, but wasting no time in slipping himself in. He barely gave you time to adjust to his dick inside you before his hands were gripped on your hips, thrusting deeply into you, making you gasp and moan for him with each pump of his hips.

You weren’t going to last long, even with so little foreplay on yourself, the rough treatment and being treated like his personal fucktoy had gotten you going something fierce, added to the loyalty, love, and devotion you already had for your captain and you could feel the tight coil inside you pressing and straining.

“Captain, let me cum for you,” You moaned, not knowing what you would do if he said no, you were desperate for it, desperate to cum and feel him cum inside you. Without answering you, his hands found your sex, teasing you along to the same rhythm that he fucked you with.

“Come for me,” He moaned, voice sounding desperate himself, his hands making sloppy movements on you as he felt himself beginning to come, but his first spasm inside you was the last straw you needed to feel the spring within you release, and you came messily together, as he pulled out to cum across your back, stroking himself and you in turn with both of his hands until your orgasms had both subsided.

“Fuck I needed that,” He said, slumping back into his chair, pulling you by the waist to sit down on his lap. He nuzzled his face into your neck, leaving kisses on the skin he could touch.

“oh Captain,” You moaned, settling down into his arms, “In all my fantasies its never been that good.”

He laughed into your shoulder, “Just wait until next time, I can always top my best.”

#Buggy the clown x reader #Buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy #one piece #one piece x reader #reader insert #NB reader #n/sfw text #n/sfw under cut

169 notes · View notes

zackcrazyvalentine · 3 years

Note

can i request malleus and reader’s future child time travelling to meet their parents when they still go to nrc pls 🙏 i just really think this is cute eeeEE

Heehee~ This prompt is always a fun one to see in fandoms

-- -- --

A bright light, the sensation of falling, a scream being torn from their throat, and finally, landing.

"U-U… U'cl Lilia..? P-Papa..?" They sniffled, hugging their trusty dragon plush close. "I-I don kno…" Tears stung their big round eyes.

The small one took some shaky breaths, wiping away the tears with their sleeves. This was somewhere unknown, somewhere outside of Valley of Thorns, so they should not let their guard down to cry.

Little feet began to walk, mesmerized by the seven looming figures surrounding them. "Ah! Gweat Wi'ch!" Their pace quickened once the horned figure crossed their line of sight.

Innocent to the onlookers' eyes, the toddler babbled words and letters engraved on the statue's pedestal.

"What is a child doing here?" Ace asked.

"Since when do kids visit this school? Aren't they too young to be on a school trip?" Jack threw the tiny figure a sideways glance.

Deuce was somewhat unsettled, "Are they lost? Didn't they wipe away tears?"

Ace snickered, "Say, Deuce, don't ya wanna be a policeman? They help lost kids~... Why don't you practice for the future?"

The blue haired glared at his friend, but before a retort could be said, Jack parted from the group.

"O-Oi, what do you think you're doing?!" Ace exclaimed in surprise.

However, their whole motions were stopped when a certain pistachio haired boy entered the scene.

"Just what do you think you're doing, child?! Show more respect to the great Witch of Thorns!" Sebek speedwalk directly to where the (now scared) kid stood.

"What are you doing touching her statue with dirty hands?! And reading her accomplishments in disarray?! Were you not taught proper manners, to respect the Great Seven?!" As Zigvolt droned on with his scolding, the child's eyes filled with tears once more.

"U'cl Sebe doodoo head!" They wailed, letting their tears roll.

"What was that?!?!" The irritated first year yelled.

Jack resumed his stride, but stopped a few steps away due to the high pitched cries bothering his sensitive ears. Ace, Deuce and Epel stood in shock at the scene. "U’cl? ...Uncle?"

Running steps interrupted the scene “Sebek, what is wrong with you? Screaming at a small child?!” [Name] rushed in, standing between the kid and Zigvolt.

“M-Mo…! Mo!!” The young one immediately hugged the legs of who was standing in front of them.

“But I simply-!” “Oh, hush now! Stop yelling, lest you wanna upset the kid more.” They quickly interrupted whatever the exalted first year wanted to say.

The [hair color] bent down to lift the toddler, “Uh… Hello there, little one! Are you lost? Did you come here with someone?” They spoke gently after helping wipe the tears away.

“N-No… no lost, Moddy wid me naw. U’cl Lilia…” At the mention of Diasomnia’s vice leader, everyone had wide eyes.

“Lilia? You came with...for Lilia?” They tried to coax more information out, but the little one only leaned onto their shoulder and wrapped the unoccupied arm around the student’s neck.

As if on cue (and spooking all grown ups in the process), Vanrouge appeared. “Mentioned my name?”

Immediately, the infant turned to look at the bat. “U’cl Lilia! Upu upu!” They made grabby hands and, of course, Lilia complied.

“What an adorable whippersnapper! You have such wonderful green eyes! That look awfully familiar…” The fae stopped his tickling to recall where he had seen those bright eyes. A sudden flash of baby Malleus with big tears in his eyes crossed the old bat’s mind.

“Master Lilia, what matters do you have with a child?” Sebek questioned.

“Ah, huh… I’m about to find out.” He answered, turning to walk away, but was stopped by displeased groans. “Mo! M-Moddy!” A sob accompanied the kid’s cries, arms outstretched towards [Name].

Tiny hand wrapped around bigger fingers as the one they called out came closer. Lilia understood, “[Name], can you be a dear and follow me? Seems like our visitor here doesn’t want to let you go.”

They snapped out of it, “O-Oh! Certainly.” There was something about holding that small hand that brought forth warmth in their heart.

Before they tailed the 3rd year, they stopped and whispered to Jack, “Inform the Headmaster. Whoever this child is needs to go back home securely and quickly.” The 1st year nodded.

As they made their way towards wherever Lilia led them, child and [1st/2nd/3rd] year student bonded. Playing hide and seek, singing lullabies, asking questions about the kid’s trusty dragon companion, anything to make sure they were distracted and wouldn’t get scared by anyone or anything around them (especially once arriving at the dark Diasomia dorm).

“Old Man… [Name]-san, and a child..?” Silver greeted the group, perplexed at the scene.

The fae smiled as if there was nothing unusual, "Evening, Silver hair! Do you happen to know where Malleus is?"

"Uh-..huh… I believe he’s in his room." He decided not to ask questions, although his face told of his clear confusion.

"Wonderful! Let us go to our destination, then. [Name], do come with."

"As you say. Keep leading the way, please."

“Shi’va, ba-by~!” Tiny hands waved at the boy who slowly returned the gesture. “What is going on? They knew..my name?”

Once standing in front of Malleus' chamber, Vanrouge knocked on the door. A click of the door unlocking and opening was the only answer. This gesture made the toddler perk up.

"Malleus! How many more times have I need to tell you to signal the visitor they have permission to enter? Don't just open the door with magic." Lilia let himself in, "Apologies for his manners, [Name]. This is the one antic I couldn't drive out of him."

Draconia rolled his eyes as he continued tending to his virtual pet.

"Papa!" Again, small arms stretched towards the figure before him.

The dragon prince became curious at the youthful voice and looked towards the door. He was met with the sight of Lilia carrying a child while [Name] stood beside them.

"Tell me you didn't steal this one, Lilia. I don't want history to repeat itself--"

"Silence, you… No, this one was wandering NRC until Sebek and his friends found them." Pout turned into a smile as the bat took Gao Gao-kun from Malleus' hands and replaced it with the child, "Now I think I've deciphered what happened."

"Papa, papa! Gao!" The little one said, placing their toy on Malleus' face.

He only duck away from the plush, "Papa? No child, I believe you're mistaken."

"Oh no, they're absolutely not mistaken~!" Lilia giggled, "It appears our visitor here is accidentally a time traveler. Probably got in the way of a spell and ended up here."

"Time traveler?" The other two occupants of the room said, startled in their own levels.

"Indeed. Want to know the interesting part of this?" The younger students looked at each other in slight confusion, nodding at last.

"This child… has vibrant green eyes, a head of [texture] [color] hair, and if you touch their crown, you can distinctly feel two little hard bumps…" While the bat described the little one's appearance, [Name] moved to stand close to Malleus and the kid.

"In case that rings no bells," Vanrouge continued, "I shall uncover the truth… Dear [Name], Malleus… I believe with all my mythical intuition that this is a whippersnapper of your own."

“Of our own…?” Draconia echoed.

“Our kid?” [Eye color] looked into two pairs of lime green.

“Papa, moddy! Gao!” As if sensing the mood, giggles escaped their mouth after their parents reunited.

Sparks and butterflies ignited two hearts after hearing their beloved (future) child giggle so merrily.

“I-! I- ugh… ahaha~ Well, would you look at that?” A blush erupted on the [1st/2nd/3rd] year’s face, “Ahem… looks like we’re more than highschool sweethearts, huh?”

The crown prince could only bring his child closer, embracing him tenderly in his warmth. “If… Only if you allow us to be more than that. The future can always be changed.” Malleus looked at them, both of them, with fondness.

“How do you expect me to change opinions when you’re both so darn cute, ya big lizard?!” [Name] internally squealed and aww’d at their future family. Emotions so colorful, they went over and joined the hug.

Lilia smiled brightly at the small family, “My Queen, My King… I know both of you surely are proud of your son, wherever you may be now.” A melancholic sigh left him, “I shall take my leave. Time travel issues can be resolved later, let them bask in happiness.”

[END♡]

-- -- --

OMG HOPE THIS WASN’T SUPER CONFUSING TO KNOW WHEN I REFERRED TO READER AND TO THE KID AAAAA Sorry if many “the child/kid/[X] year student” were used! Was the only way I could think of working around this

Thank you for the request! We all know Silver, Sebek and Lilia will definitely be part Malleus’ kids’ family, so of course the baby here knows their name :b

(lol sorry for the terrible baby talk too, idk with what sounds do kids struggle with the most when learning to talk) (ALSO!!! supposedly “moddy” is a gender neutral term for parents, a mix of “mommy” & “daddy”)

#march 2021 special #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #zack writes #soul cuddle #request pavilion

603 notes · View notes

dynyamight · 3 years

Note

#116 bkdk please 🥰

send me a writting ask

116. “I’m right here.”

Nightmares. Midoriya feels embarrassed to even admit he still has them.

Ochako had told him that was perfectly normal. “Heroes aren’t high and almighty, Deku. We struggle, cry, and experience loss. Why wouldn’t we have nightmares, either?”

“I have nightmares too, Midoriya-san.” Iida had confessed to him, “But, they don’t make us weak. They fuel us to stay strong and brave.”

Todoroki felt the most convincing to Midoriya. “I have them. Almost every other night.”

“Oh.” Midoriya barely voiced, feeling a little intrusive. He adjusted his phone in his hand, trying to dispel the stiff air he felt in the call.

“Yeah.” On Todoroki’s end, Midoriya heard a bit of shuffling. “If you feel like you’re the only person in the world who deals with the worst of them, you’re not. I’m there with you.”

“Do you know anything to make them disappear?”

“If I did, don’t you think I would have stopped having them?”

“Sorry. You’re completely right.” Midoriya sighed, long and defeated. “I just hate bothering people with these calls.”

“There’s nothing wrong with calling me.” Todoroki offered softly. “I get it. It also helps me to talk it out with someone, too.”

Midoriya hummed, left feeling disappointed in his gut. He knows Todoroki, as well as the rest of his closest friends, are willing to deal with his phone calls. But, he wants them to stop. The nightmares.

They always leave him in a cold sweat, gasping for air. No matter how strong he got, no matter how many villains he took down, or how much the public adornes him with glory and applause, the nightmares break him.

They belittle him. They mock him. They dare him with the deaths of his loved ones. They taunt him with deaths of his own. They curse him with images of not saving enough, or saving no one at all.

All for One. He continues to haunt him, the moment he closes his eyes and falls in a slumber. And, it leaves Midoriya frustratingly holding back tears, wanting him to leave his essence.

And, tonight was another one of those nights. Padding down barefoot, Midoriya walks out of his bedroom and into the living space. There’s a damp towel around his neck, soaking the sweat he built up from his recent nightmare.

In his hands, his cell phone was held tight.

He doesn’t want to call Todoroki, or Ochako, or Iida. He doesn’t want to stress out his mother any more than she needs to. All Might deserves a peaceful night of his own, free from Midoriya’s rambles. And, Midoriya simply didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk with anyone else.

Except, maybe there was one. Midoriya groans, slumping down on his couch.

He looks down at the phone in his hands, its screen glowing. There was a contact name blaring at him back, beckoning him to press the call button.

Midoriya hates the way his exhausted mind easily talks to him into pressing it. He hates the way he puts the phone to his ear, as if he hopes the call is picked up. He hates the way his heart beats frantically in his chest, wanting to hear that familiar voice.

Midoriya hopes his call is ignored.

“Who the fuck is this?”

His voice gets caught in his throat. Midoriya feels the burning of embarrassment suddenly engulf him, like a wildfire.

Bakugou never looks at the contact name, before answering any calls, Midoriya knows. And, he knows that if he were to say anything, Bakugou would know it’s him.

But, he can’t even breathe right now. He immediately regrets everything. Bakugou could be working, patrolling. Bakugou could have been sleeping. Bakugou could have been enjoying time by himself. Or with others.

God, he could be with people right now, and Midoriya’s wanting to talk about his nightmares. How embarrassing. How weak of him.

“Hello?” Bakugou’s voice echoes. “Hello?”

Midoriya chokes, tears falling down his cheeks. “S-Sorry.”

He hangs up.

And, just as fast as he ends the call, his phone is ringing.

It’s almost laughable. If it wasn’t for the brittle heart he had currently, Midoriya would have been smiling at the way Bakugou was urgently calling back. But, instead, he felt terrible, making Bakugou stressed.

Tentatively, Midoriya answers the call, quickly wiping his tears. “K-Kacchan—”

“Where are you? Now.” Bakugou’s concern booms.

Midoriya shakes his head. “I’m home. Safe.”

“You hurt?”

“N-No. I’m okay.”

There’s a moment of silence on Bakugou’s end. “..The fuck you crying about?” He suddenly asks, bluntly.

“It’s—” Midoriya groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing.”

“Hell, it’s nothing.” Bakugou scoffs, “You fucking called me during my shift.”

Of course he did. “You should go back, then.”

“Nah, I got it covered. ‘Sides, it ain’t eventful, tonight.”

“You need to go back to work, Kacchan. It’s important.” Midoriya chastises.

“Yeah, well, so are you.”

That prickles some tears. Sniffing, Midoriya furiously rubs his eyes, frantically trying to keep them dry. The stuffiness in his nose returns, making his voice sound muffled. “I had a nightmare. That’s all.”

“You used to have shitty nightmares, when we were younger.”

“I never outgrew them.” Midoriya admits, quietly.

“Hm.” There’s a bit of wind resounding in Bakugou’s end. “Did they get worse?”

“..They have.”

“Why haven’t you told me.”

Shrugging against the phone, Midoriya curls himself into a ball. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hear about them. They are a bit bothersome, even for me.”

“I wouldn’t—” Bakugou ceases, sighing. “Then, tell me. What was it about? This one.”

Reimagining his nightmares was always hard. Midoriya remembers the faces of the people in his dreams, and the sensations he feels afterwards. But, he cannot seem to recall the story of them, the events in order.

But, for this particular nightmare, there wasn’t any bizarre plotline to understand.

“You.” Midoriya confesses. “You were in it. And, All for One had taken you, in his hands. And, right when I was so close to reaching you, he— you were gone.”

“Lame.”

Sputtering, Midoriya is utterly baffled. “That’s—!”

“What the hell, Deku. You should have known that I ain’t dying anytime soon.” Bakugou huffs irritated, “Especially not from that damn old man. People would call for elder abuse, from how I could beat his ass.”

He shouldn’t laugh, but Midoriya can’t help it. He smiles, staring up at his ceiling. “I knew you would say something like that.”

“Is that why you called?” Bakugou inqueries, “So, you could hear me say that.”

“..Yeah.” Midoriya nods. He brings a hand to his curls, running them through. “I needed to hear you say that.”

“You planning to go back to sleep?”

“You’ve never asked these many questions before, Kacchan.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Midoriya exhales a defeated breath, laying his head back on the couch. “No. I wasn’t.”

“You fucking should.” Bakugou tsk’s. Midoriya can imagine him shaking his head in disapproval.

“If I do, the nightmares will come back.” He states weakly, and his shoulders tighten. “I-I can’t. I don’t want to see you fall again.”

“..Stay on the line.”

Midoriya doesn’t know what to expect, as he stayed waiting. A couple seconds became a few minutes, and then those minutes became at least fifteen minutes of no response.

He’s about to hang up, thinking Bakugou had to go back to combat, until he hears loud rummaging.

“You there?” Bakugou voices.

He nods. But then, Midoriya remembers that Bakugou can’t see him. “Y-Yeah. I am.” He hurriedly states.

“Good.”

There’s a lot more movement and noise sounding off on Bakugou’s end; clinking of metal, heavy footsteps, car horns, beeping of sorts.

“I put you on my bluetooth.” Bakugou mentions it easily.

“N-No! Don’t do that, Kacchan!” Midoriya frantically insists, sitting up fully in his seat.

“I need to do my fucking job, idiot.”

“Then, hang up!”

“Yeah, but you need me.”

Midoriya stills. Despite his pleas to leave, his heart soars achingly, appreciating Bakugou’s efforts towards him. It causes a surge of tears, threatening to fall. “I-I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re exhausting, Deku.” Bakugou groans, “If you were, I would have hung up by now.”

“What are you even planning for us to do, then?”

“Fucking easy.” Bakugou huffs confidently, “Keep your phone to your ears.”

“Keep my phone?”

“So, when you fall asleep, you can still continue hearing me alive.” Bakugou states, “Hear me talk, walk, breathe. Maybe, in your shit dreams, I’ll be alive there, too.”

Midoriya smiles, his vision blurring. “I wish you were here.” He confesses.

“I’m right here.” Bakugou firmly states, his voice resounding deep in Midoriya’s fragile, weakened core. “Just don’t fucking hang up, and I’ll be here.”

And, Midoriya doesn’t. He listens quietly to Bakugou flying around his city, the booming of his explosives reaching his call. And, he hears all the conversations Bakugou has with people; his sidekicks, the bypassing citizens, his fellow fans.

Midoriya overhears Bakugou mentioning to someone that yes, he was on a call, and no, it wasn’t their business who. “It’s someone I would fucking fight for. There. Happy now?” Bakugou relents, finally.

Midoriya wants to laugh, but instead, he feels his body light and sleepy. Resting flat on the couch, he brings a pillow to his chest, and allows himself to close his eyes.

The last thing he hears from Bakugou is a small, short whisper. “Let me fight those nightmares, Deku.”

His dreams consist of Bakugou beating up All for One with ease.

#star responds #another airplane ficlet !!! for my bestie !!#why do they consist of sleeping?? bwewjk i think i was missing my bed #but yes !! nightmare prone! deku with his reliable kacchan #i luv the idea that bakugou would totally hook midoriya up on bluetooth #& if anyone asks. he brushes them off. 'it's important'#hope you like it !!!!#bakudeku #bkdk #katsudeku #dekubaku #dkbk #bakugou-klancey-lance #my beloved #FICLET

116 notes · View notes

nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years

Text

Resurrect Me (N.R.)

Warnings: swearing; death; Hell/the Underworld; cliff jumping lol

Word Count≈ 3.1k (yikes lol my bad)

Hecate一 the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Known to be an intricate mosaic of good and evil, destruction and beauty. Capable of granting wishes, summoning the dead, resurrections, teleportation, warping realities on unfathomable scales, mind control, energy manipulation, and any sorcery or magic known to the Gods. Second only to Zeus himself.

I am the human embodiment of Hecate. I am not Hecate; she merely resides in the depths of my soul and provides me guidance. We do not communicate through words; she speaks through dreams and gut feelings, and sometimes even through signs in the outside world. I have not mastered the powers she’s granted me, nor have I reached my full potential. In addition to the Goddess’ powers, I hold the basic Olympian powers, such as superhuman speed and stamina. I have no recollection of how I merged with Hecate or the life I lived before this point, and she has provided me with no answers, but I do not question her motives.

Agent Phil Coulson came across me in my temple in Turkey. Apparently, he had discovered strange energy readings coming from the temple. When he arrived, I used the power of energy manipulation to blow the concrete off of me, and that is the first thing I remember一 emerging from underneath Hecate’s temple.

I joined the Avengers during the Battle of New York. Agent Coulson had recommended me to Fury when he was piecing together the Avengers Initiative. In the three years between my awakening and the invasion, I practiced my sorcery mercilessly and studied Hecate deep in the Greek countryside. I’ve stuck with the Avengers throughout the years, fighting every battle alongside them. Through the ups and downs, I’ve fallen head over heels for Natasha Romanoff. One would assume that with so much power, I’d be confident and have any mortal begging at my feet. That couldn’t be any more inaccurate, however. As I’ve said, I am not Hecate; I am simply the human embodiment of the goddess. And as a human, I turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever the levelheaded assassin is near. Consequently, there have been many years of pining, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage to ask the woman on a date.

In our most recent war, we’ve gone up against a mad titan一 Thanos. We lost terribly. Half of all living things inhabiting the universe were snapped away. I can’t help but ponder whether things would’ve gone differently if I had better mastered my powers. I potentially hold all the capabilities of the goddess of magic; aside from Zeus, I hold more power than any being to ever exist. I’ve practiced my sorcery every day for the past five years on the off chance that we ever get a rematch一 a chance to bring everyone back. I’ve improved significantly, but Hecate has been oddly quiet for the past few years. It’s driving me crazy. I know she’s still there, but she hardly provides an ounce of guidance.

And so, that is where I find myself now一 practicing sorcery in the room specifically designed to isolate me when I use dark magic. Everyone who has access to the training section of the compound knows that they should never enter this room. It is far too dangerous for regular mortals. As I warp the room’s reality, a dark mist envelops me. When it clears, the room has changed into a 50s ballroom. I look down to see an elegant maroon ball gown covering my body, and I scan the empty area. I hear a pair of heels clicking toward me, and I spin around, already panicking. In order for someone to be here with me, they would have to be an inhabitant of the location’s true reality. My eyes land upon the woman I’ve grown to love, dressed up for the event. She is wearing an extravagant light blue ball gown, and her hair is carefully done up.

“Natasha? What are you doing here?”

“Why I came to dance with you, of course.” She steps closer and drapes her arms around my neck, swaying to the nonexistent music. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There’s no way I’m making her do this. I’m not even doing anything! Of course I’m the one making her do this, who else would it be?! Breathe in. Breathe out. My powers don’t control me. I control them. Just breathe. I can do this. I know how to do this.

As I focus on the magic coursing through my veins, a black mist envelops us, and the room returns to its original form一 a basic training room with black padded walls. I immediately take a large step back from Natasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Natasha?! You know you can’t come in here! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“I...I’m sorry. I thought you’d just be moving shit with your mind. I didn’t realize you could do...that, whatever that was.”

“That was reality manipulation. I didn’t know you were here and I don’t have full control of it, so you got caught up in it. Are you okay? Do you remember it?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day. I was still me and I was still in control, it was just...different, I guess.”

“Well, I literally warped your reality, so even if you felt in control, you might not have been.”

“You stopped it, though. I remember when that seemed impossible. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but Scott Lang is here. We might have a way to bring everybody back.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit. It’s happening. Okay, come on then!” I eagerly walk past her, grabbing her hand as I pass her, and we leave my training room. I realize that I’m still holding her hand as we make it to the meeting room, and I immediately drop it, clearing my throat. If I wasn’t so familiar with the sensation, then I would swear that my ears and cheeks are on fire.

<//>

We all step onto the platform in matching white and red time-travel suits. “We’re really doing this?”

“Hell yeah, we’re doing this,” Clint answers.

“Alright, then. We bring everybody back,” I say with determination. “Whatever it takes,” Steve adds.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha adds with a smirk. Before I can appreciate how beautiful she looks with the glimmer of hope in her eyes, we’re flying through a flurry of colors. Nebula, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, and I land on Morag. We all say our respective goodbyes before Nat, Clint, and I get on a jet to head to Vormir.

<//>

“A soul for a soul.”

“What? That’s insane. Look, no offense, Mr. Bloody Tampon, but why should we just trust what you’re saying? Because you know their fathers’ names?”

“I didn’t.” I looked into Natasha’s eyes as she spoke and I instantly wish that I could replace the dull sadness with the bright hope that had filled them before.

“He doesn’t know my father’s name. If he’s some mystical being, then why can’t he tell me that?” I turned to face him as I asked the question.

“I’m afraid you are a mystery. I am meant to know everything about any being who seeks the stone, but I know nothing of your identity.”

“Hm. Seems like a load of bullshit to me,” I deadpanned.

“We need to do this. We need to bring everyone back. I’ve spent the past five years trying to reverse the snap, and now I finally know how to fix it. Let me do it.” As Natasha spoke, she grabbed both of my hands in hers.

“And I’ve spent every day for the past five years training to do this. I wasn’t just practicing sorcery and talking to dead people for fun, Nat. All I wanted was to do better一 to fix this. If anyone is jumping off that cliff, it’s gonna be me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Neither of you is dying for that stone. I’ve done horrible things these past few years. I’ve killed...so many people. It should be me,” Clint says, and Natasha and I turn to face him, but one of her hands remains in mine.

“No way in hell, Clint. And not you either, Nat. Both of you guys have families. You’re not sacrificing yourselves. I won’t let you. And you can’t stop me even if you try.” Nat gives me a questioning look as I mention her family and I speak in her head ‘I know about them, Nat. And they need you. She needs her big sister.’

“What are you saying?” I can hear the anxiety lacing Nat’s words, and it causes a pit to form in my stomach.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Natty.”

“Then you don’t leave me much of a choice.” She shoots a Widow’s Bite toward me, but I stop it using energy manipulation without even having to lift a finger.

“You can’t beat me, Nat. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

“I call bullshit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint running toward the edge while we’re distracted, and I teleport in front of him, throwing him backward. I use mind control to force him to stay down. I sense Natasha running toward the edge behind me, and I teleport in front of her. I use energy manipulation to keep her in place, and I grab onto her biceps.

“I’m really sorry, Nat. I hate that I’m doing this to you, but I can’t let you throw yourself off a cliff for some stupid stone. Your life is worth so much more than that. You’re an amazing person, and your ledger was cleared of its red so long ago. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a goodbye.”

“You can be sarcastic all you want, but I’m not walking out of this one, Natty.”

“Don’t do this. The team needs you.”

“No, they don’t, Nat, and we both know it. They need you.”

“And what if I need you?!”

“Well if that’s the case, you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. Don’t let something like this hold you back. Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff.” I kiss her cheek before turning around. I start walking towards the edge, but it quickly turns into a sprinting pace as I hear Nat screaming for me to stop. Just before I reach the edge, I lift the mind control from Clint and I release Nat, just in case it doesn’t automatically lift when I die. I push myself off the cliff, turning mid-jump so I’m not facing the ground. As I’m falling through the air, I see Clint holding Nat in his arms as her screams fill my ears. I hit the ground and everything goes black.

<//>

“Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you again.” I sat up and一 what the hell is that smell? “Ah, yes. That would be burning flesh. Welcome to Hell, darling.”

“Uh...what? Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain, hm? I am Hecate, Goddess of一”

“Yeah, I know what you’re the goddess of. How did I get here?”

“I thought you were smarter than this. You died, obviously.”

“And went to Hell? Damn.”

“Oh, relax. Hell isn’t what the mortals think it is. This is the Underworld. All of the dead reside here. The bad people get punished, the good people don’t. Simple as that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I need to explain. I am cursed; I cannot leave the Underworld. However, my human embodiment can, and that is where you come into play. You hold all my power, and I can see you’ve been practicing, but you’ve never lived up to your full potential.”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Don’t interrupt. I didn’t allow you to live up to your full potential, not until we met, anyway.”

“And I had to die in order for that to happen?”

“Yes. I’m giving you all of my power, but I can still stop you if I ever need to. I know you don’t want to risk hurting the people you love, especially the redhead, but you need to trust yourself. Trust your powers. Have a little faith. You are a goddess, remember. Don’t let people forget it. That purple thumb is nothing compared to you, even with his colorful rocks. Your family needs you now. You must help them.”

“That’s it? Why do they need help? How will I know what to do?”

“I will always be there to help you, Y/N. You can handle this. This is nothing. You are part of me, just as I am part of you. You are my daughter, after all. I should know your capabilities better than anyone.”

“Wait, daughter?!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home, darling.”

The earth above us cracks open and I can hear faint sounds of fighting on the surface. I look at Hecate as she nods. Before I even realize I’m doing it, black mist surrounds my body and lifts me through the crack. I step out of the mist onto the ground and a staff appears in my right hand. I tap it once on the ground and my white suit is replaced by an all-black leather outfit that’s definitely made for a goddess. I smirk and make eye contact with the titan across the battlefield. His sickly creatures race toward me as they notice the new threat on the field. I summon an army of ghouls from the cracks in the earth. As the aliens and the undead clash, I teleport in front of Thanos.

“And who might you be, dear?” He acts confident, but I can sense his fear.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Hecate.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Oh, did someone not study mythology? Hm, then let’s be blunt, shall we? I’m a goddess, ass-chin.” I throw my staff at his throat, but he catches it. He moves to swing his large sword at me, but I capture his arm in black mist. When he tries to move the other arm, I restrain that one, as well. “Well, that surely can’t be all you’ve got, hm? Pity, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” If I were to look in a mirror at that moment, I would’ve noticed my ghostly pale skin, black eyes, and the raw power spreading through my veins like a black road-map.

“It’s not over yet, my dear child.” Before I can question the meaning of his words, an alien tosses him the gauntlet. It slides on his exposed hand, but I hold it open with dark magic. I look around and notice that the army of the undead is nowhere to be seen. My teammates are pinned down, even with the help of those who were snapped. There is a feeling in my gut and a voice in my head that tells me what I must do. I pull the gauntlet off his hand with black mist and slide my hand inside. I feel the power surging into my body. “What are you doing? That power will kill you!” Thanos sounds truly desperate.

“That’s cute. Truly, it is, but you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” I close my hand and snap my fingers. His army fades to dust and he slumps to the ground before floating away with them. I drop the gauntlet to the ground and look around. Natasha runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck in a firm hug.

“Wha一what happened to you? How are you here? I thought you died!”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder before saying, “I did die. I am dead.”

She pulls away and looks at me from head to toe. “Well that explains why you’re so damn pale, but now I have so many more questions.”

“I am Hecate’s daughter, so I am technically a goddess, like her. I’m not sure if I was technically resurrected or not, but I can probably一”

She cut me off with a gentle yet passionate kiss. She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” she admits.

“Me too,” I breathe out.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re not very discrete.” I laughed and a smirk spread across her face. “As sexy as this whole ‘powerful goddess’ thing is, am I going to get the old you back? You know, the one who blushes whenever I look at her? The one who’s, like, alive?”

I smile at her and glance down at her lips as a thick black mist appears behind me. I step backward into it as her face morphs into a look of confusion. She disappears from sight as a wall of black fills my vision, and a surge of power spreads throughout my body. I fall to my knees and the black cloud disappears. Natasha rushes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m alive again.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.

“Your skin isn’t crazy pale anymore, and your eyes are their normal color again.”

“Sweet.”

“Cool.”

We both crack up and I lean my forehead against hers as our laughter fades.

Tony interrupts our moment of peace. “This is all good and dandy, but does someone wanna explain what the hell just happened?”

I raise my head and look at my teammates一 my family. “I kicked the purple thumb’s ass. That’s what happened.” I can feel a warm presence in my heart, and I know that my mother is with me.

“Yes, yes, I noticed. I also noticed a bunch of demons. Care to explain that one?”

“They weren’t demons...they were just...the souls...of dead people. I can summon the dead. You knew that.”

“Uh, I definitely didn’t know that.” I laugh and shake my head at the eccentric man.

I stand up, pulling Natasha with me, and bring her into another embrace. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Natty,” I whisper in her ear before pressing a delicate kiss to her temple.

A/N: I literally had this completely finished and edited over a month ago and I hadn’t posted it yet soooooo... idk here it is

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fic #natasha one shot #black widow #black widow x reader

112 notes · View notes

imagine-it-to-be-true · 3 years

Note

Pretty pretty please can I have Aro being super protective and first time with reader!

Honestly he’s so calm and collected and a bit of a maniac, but I think with a S/O he gets soft and tells the funniest stories about his some off 6000 years randomly lying there after end he glances over “did I ever tell you about the time Caius and I stared the French Revolution— well I mean the people were all horribly starving— meaning the food options were just bleh. So we brought out the guillotine.”

Reader: O.O you did that for food.

Aro: do you know how awful malnourished blood is?

You got it :) thanks for the request! Aro is not on my list of characters, simply because I've always been more of a Caius girl. I'm sorry if this is a bit off than how you imagined, but I did my best to capture his character! Hope you love it.

Headcanon - Your First Time with Aro Volturi

Aro was terrifying, because one could never know what is running through his head.

One minute he’s smiling at someone and holding their hand to get a glimpse into their thoughts, the next he’s ripping the person’s head off

So naturally, you were a tad nervous, lying underneath him, exposed and vulnerable. You knew Aro for some time, and he’s always been kind to you, but this was a new level for you both.

Aro would look into your eyes, and smile softly, his black hair falling over his shoulders. He sits back, pulling you with him into a sitting position.

“May I, my sweet?” He smiles and says gently, reaching for your hand. You did not fight it. It was easier for him to see your thoughts then for you to have to explain yourself. You nod and he takes a breath as he explores your mind.

“You fear me?” He looks at you surprised.

“No Aro, it’s not that. I’m just nervous - I’ve… I’ve never done this before.”

The smile slowly returns to his face as you continue.

“You ripping the head off of Isidorus earlier today doesn’t really help,” you chuckle, “But I’m not afraid of you.”

He lets out a light chuckle, “Good. You have nothing to fear from me. I will rip off all the heads in the world in order to keep you safe, my love.”

“Me? What did Isidorus have to do with me? I did not know the man.”

“Perhaps not, my dear. But I did not like the hungry look in his eyes as he stared at you in the court room.” Aro let out his crazy, high pitched laugh and you widen your eyes, and gasp with a small smile on your face.

“You’re terrible,” you giggle, shaking your head.

“And you, my dear, are perfect, come here.”

All of the sudden, the nervousness you felt melted away as you lay under the man who would do all manner of crazy things to protect you. You never felt more protected than you did in his arms.

“I love you, my queen.” He would whisper against your skin as he slowly ran his lips down your stomach… lower and lower and lower, until your eyes shoot open, you arch your back and gasp, hands fisted into the sheets. You hear his amused chuckle, “There, there my sweet, not so fast. I’m going to make this last, so breathe, and relax.”

You want to take care of him, to make him happy. But he’s so focused on your needs, making sure you are fully taken care of.

“Aro, let me take care of you!”

“We have eternity to take care of each other, my darling. Tonight is all about you.” He answers. You stop trying to fight it, and ease into the sweet sensations you feel for the first time.

“Now, darling,” he hovers above you after giving you your first, mind-blowing orgasm. “Now comes the hard part. The first time always hurts a little. I will be gentle, and it will stop hurting before you know it, okay love?

You hesitantly nod, and he gives you a reassuring smile. In one swift move, he’s deep inside you, and this pain you were nervous about only lasted for two seconds.

“Are you alright darling?” He whispers and you nod, urging him to go on. He smiles and continues moving, while you lose yourself in the bliss of his love.

____

Afterwards, you lay right on top of him, wrapped up in his sheet as he runs his hands up and down your bare spine.

“So beautiful,” he would whisper.

“I’m sure you’ve seen prettier in your long, long life,” you smirk but he immediately shakes his head

“No, treasure. You put everything and everyone else to shame.”

“Tell me something,”

“What, darling?”

“Aro, you’ve had such a fascinating life. Tell me a story,”

He would lay his head back and think for a minute.

“Would you like to hear about the time Caius and I started the French Revolution?”

You roll your eyes, not believing him. “Come on, be serious…”

“I am dead serious, darling,” he giggled, “Dead… serious… you get it?”

“Wow… lame joke much?! So how did you allegedly start the French Revolution.”

“It was Caius’ idea, really.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” You roll your eyes.

“Hey! We were the good guys. We got sick of feeding on malnourished blood. It tastes positively awful. Caius had the brilliant plan to introduce the Guillotine.”

“For food?! You did all that for food?!” You were shocked, but chuckling. These two were so crazy.

“Now, now, my dear, we only fed on the snobby aristocrats. Nobody liked them anyways. I shall never forget fighting Caius over who would feed on Louis XVI.” He pauses and winks, “I won.”

#twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #volturi #aro #aro volturi #caius volturi #Caius #marcus volturi #Marcus #volterra #aro x reader #aro x you #imagine request #imagine #headcanon requests #headcanon

140 notes · View notes

jeojahari · 3 years

Text

03 | kiss it better | myg

🠒 summary: you're one of the lucky ones, everyone else tells you. finding your soulmate the day you turn 18 isn't something that happens to a lot of people... but you and your other half are going to have to make a lot of progress to be able to tolerate each other.

or, you and yoongi can feel everything the other feels, and you're hell bent on causing each other pain.

🠒 pairing: yoongi x reader

🠒 genre: angst, fluff, e2l!au, soulmates!au, college au, crack?

🠒 warnings: profanity, implied smut

🠒 word count: 1.9K

🠒 notes: Y'ALL i can't with you guys thank you so much oh my gosh 🥺❤️❤️ thank you so much for sticking with this! *is very honored and touched* hope you enjoy this chapter :D

also! from here on out i'm going to start putting in parts from yoongi's pov too so y'all can get an idea of what's going on in his head c:

also, just a little shout out to an anon whom i got a very comforting, uplifting message from... thank you so much anon! this part is going to be last-minute dedicated to you ❤️❤️

part 03: three roses

series m. list

Yoongi’s only met you two days ago, and yet he can’t get you off his mind.

“It’s probably just a soulmate thing,” his roommate tells him, typing away at his laptop — the paper is due in half an hour, and he is rushing to get it done. Procrastination has time and again proven to be a horrible habit, but he never does let go of it.. “Regardless of how you feel about her, the universe decides who you’re stuck with.”

“It’s not like that, Jin,” Yoongi groans. “I’m not saying I don’t ever want to be with her. I’m saying it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot, if she would just let it happen.”

Jin spins around on his chair, giving his friend a curious look. “What did you even say the first time you met her that made her hate you this much?”

“I, um.” Yoongi shifts around, suddenly aware of how cold he must have seemed to you that day, way before you turned eighteen and knew what the future was to hold. “Told her not to waste oxygen. And left.”

“Wow. So in a nutshell, you fucked up.”

“I did.”

“And she hates you for being an antisocial grump.”

“I’m not! But yes, she does.”

Jin proceeds to take another sip from his mug of (now cold) tea, deep in thought. “You gonna tell me who the mystery girl is?”

“Park Y/N,” Yoongi winces as he says your name, not liking the way it easily rolls off his tongue, or the kaleidoscope of butterflies it sets off in his stomach — or the way his heart seems to skip a beat at the thought of you. He doesn’t want it to, but what can he do? “You know, the one who rooms with Park Jimin from the arts department. They’re not related, though.”

“The Y/N who has an impossibly obvious crush on Jimin’s cousin? Taehyung, right?”

Yoongi chuckles, staring at the blank white wall. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one Y/N in this entire school, but yes. That’s her.”

“So you two don’t get along and she has a thing for another guy. Man, the universe really fucked up, didn’t it?”

“And you’re not helping right now,” Yoongi scoffs, scribbling down another abstract equation on his paper. “The goal is not to make her fall in love with me, dumbass.”

“But that’s precisely what the goal is! She falls in love with you, you date, get married, have kids, you know the deal. Happily ever after.”

“I think you’re forgetting the part about me not liking her at all.”

“That can change, can’t it?” Jin swivels around in his chair, eyes wide and hopeful. “What’s stopping you from falling head over heels for her a week or so from now? You two are already bound; it can’t be that hard.”

Yoongi presses his pen to the paper again, but a sharp stinging sensation makes him flinch backwards, curling his index finger inward. “Stupid,” he mutters, wincing. “Y/N seriously has a thing for giving herself paper cuts on the daily.”

“See?” Jin grins widely, feeling very accomplished for no reason at all. “You’re already worried about her well-being!”

“The only reason I even care is because I feel it too!” Seconds later, another twinge of pain comes, this time shooting through his head. “Ow,” he groans, frustrated. “Really? Are we seriously going back to this now? What’s she doing this time, banging her head on the wall to get on my nerves?”

Jin drains the rest of tea in one gulp, side-eyeing the shorter male from his spot at the desk. “Figure it out, my guy,” he says under his breath. Whether he likes it or not, he’s concerned about his friend — though he knows that if he brings it up, Yoongi’s only going to chide him for being so worried. “Second chances don’t come often. Don’t screw this one up.”

The study group meets again (is this a daily thing now?), and much to Yoongi’s surprise, you’re there without fail, squeezed in between Jimin and another guy he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. As Taehyung grabs his hand and yanks him down onto the bench, he notices the slightly pissed off glare you send him, too tired to return one of his own.

No one speaks, and it’s strange. It’s awfully awkward; usually Taehyung and Jungkook would be arguing over something stupid, and there would be yelling… but now, there is only complete silence, save for the rustling of pages and the occasional cough from Namjoon.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers from his left after a few minutes, nudging his elbow as a greeting. “How come you’re not sitting with Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t you two supposed to be together?” Ah, right. Once again, Yoongi curses fate’s horrible decision making skills, sending another why me? plea to the heavens.

“It’s fine,” he brushes it off instead, sorting through his books. He’s trying not to look like it affects him, but he’s always been rather terrible at hiding his frustration. “She has Jimin and that other dude anyways.”

Jungkook doesn’t look convinced. In fact, he sees right through the half-hearted lie. “You want to sit next to her,” he deduces quickly. “But you’re not. You two fought or something?”

“What would you know,” Yoongi mutters, irritated. “Of all people.”

Jungkook frowns slightly, but the merry twinkle doesn’t leave his eyes, the trademark of a person who’s just happy to live life. “What do you mean? I’m very experienced in these things, I’ll have you know.”

“Right, because fucking a different girl each night is your way of showing off your expertise.”

“Yoongi, I’m trying to help you. You two aren’t the best at covering up; we know you hate each other’s guts,” he sighs. “You need to talk to her, patch it up, do something—”

“Shut up,” Yoongi snaps sharply, thoughts distorted. His cantankerous mood is rising now, only worsening with every word he hears. “Shut up, Jungkook. You don’t fucking know anything.” His voice is loud enough to catch the attention of everyone else at the table, and he’s well aware of your worried eyes on him. “Stop trying to educate me on this bullshit called romance when all you fucking do is sleep around!”

The weight of his words hit Jungkook hard, and it’s written all over his face, shock and something like sorrow in his expression. Yoongi regrets it as soon as he says it, immediately wishing he could take it all back — but he doesn’t, because the anger, the pain, the empty, hollow feeling of having his soulmate near but unable to love her… it’s eating away at him.

Then he hears your voice, soft and gentle in contrast to his own, and it almost grounds him, calms the storm inside his head. Almost, except for the fact that your words are just as harsh, stinging him far more than expected. “You’re such an asshole,” you say, giving him nothing but a stare he can’t comprehend.

“Y/N—”

“Jungkook can do what he wants; he’s an adult and he’s not harming anyone. His actions do not justify yours,” you spit, the resent clear in the way you speak to him.

Have you always hated him so much?

“And neither of us have been particularly great about this, but you had no right to say that to him,” you continue, glowering. The rest of the table just sits there as you talk, still processing what just happened. “You fucking jerk.”

There’s a lot Yoongi wants to say to you. Explain. Redeem himself. Apologize, maybe, if you’ll let him — but he knows you won’t. It’s one of the things he’s picked up on in two days; you won’t listen to reason when you’re pissed off, and right now you’re certainly in no position to hear him out.

“Okay,” he mutters instead, rising from his seat and earning a worried look from Taehyung. He gives you one last look before he forces himself to look away, your heated gaze burning into him. “I’ll leave first, then.”

Jungkook left almost immediately after, and the rest of the group quickly followed suit. Now, you’re cozied up on the couch with a cup of green tea while Jimin works on what he couldn’t finish earlier, sitting beside you.

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “At least now you know that he’s somewhat invested in whatever’s between you two, if Jungkook was trying to give him advice.”

“That’s just Jungkook being invested,” you grumble. “Not Yoongi. The guy doesn’t even look like he cares.”

“Do you?”

The question makes you stop and think. Do you? Do you care enough to try? Growing up, you’d so strongly believed that love was only ever a temporary thing; it never stayed long enough to blossom into something beautiful the way it was portrayed in the media. You had always been surrounded by the dark side of this seemingly magical emotion, listening to your mother’s crying late at night when she thought you were asleep, to the point where you’d sworn it off.

But something in you wants to question it. You want to shatter that ominous what if, throw off the shadows of your own childhood and grow into something more, be able to experience the magic firsthand.

And really, Yoongi’s a fucking asshole and you’re still mad at him. But one day… maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. Give him a try, a chance.

Still, it’s a “no” that you answer Jimin with, lying through your teeth. He doesn’t say anything, just humming a single note in response, his right hand doodling something mindlessly on your skin with one of his black ink pens. When he pulls away a minute later, there are three dainty roses resting in the valley between your thumb and index finger, clustered together in a bunch.

You hate roses. They do nothing but remind you of the one thing that hurt you the most.

“You know,” he says after a while, “I think you’re being a bit childish about this whole thing. Y/N, you two are acting like you’re in some kind of high school drama. You say you don’t like him, but for what? His coffee addiction and his personality?”

“You’re just making it sound worse than it really is…”

“No,” he presses, turning to face you directly. “I’m serious. You’re my best friend and I want to see you happy. Not you screwing this all up. People have differences, it’s normal.”

“It’s not about that—”

Jimin takes your hand, tapping it twice and then rapping his knuckles against the side of your head. “Y/N, you wonderful idiot. You don’t hate him. You’re just desperately searching for reasons to hate him.” His eyes soften. “I know you don’t like this because of how your parents ended up, but not everyone's the same. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

“I—” You stop for a second, a bit on edge. “I don’t like this, Jimin,” you say truthfully. You’ve always known it was bound to happen someday, but… the way your heart races around Yoongi and aches when he’s away both bothers and excites you, afraid at the prospect of more but still tempted to see what the future holds. And you can’t decide on either one.

“There you go. What were you waiting for?” he laughs, bringing you in for a comforting hug. “Now you’ve just got to do something about it.”

taglist: @meiadore @kimnamjoonluvbot @im-gay-no-matter-who-i-date @fangirl125reader @helenazbmrskai @min-yus @janeelizabeth1216 @chimchiekookie @chimchoom @igotnotype @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @loveyoongles @ggukkieland @music-is-my-middle-name @secretlycrazyhummingbird @halesandy @moonchild1

taglist is still open! send an ask if you'd like me to add you <3

prev | next | series m. list | main m. list

#yoongi #yoongi soulmate au #yoongi enemies to lovers #yoongi college au #bts #bts fanfiction #bts college au #bts soulmate au #bts enemies to lovers #fluff #angst #crack?? idk #yoongi series #mine #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #part 3

187 notes · View notes

zarcake-writes · 3 years

Text

Berries and Cinnamon

I like Karl Heisenberg. And I was in the mood for something sweet, loving, and slightly sad. Enjoy!

The village is quiet as a bitter wind whistle past the rickety homes and down the muddy little side streets. Most of the houses are dark; only smoke rising from chimneys to show proof of inhabitance. The outline of Castle Dimitrescu is barely visible against the gloomy night sky.

Karl Heisenberg is alone on the muddy streets. The farm animals that usually roam the village during the day have retreated to the safety of their homes. While the cold weather keeps the villagers inside.

He curls his lip when he passes one of the houses. The smell of animals and wet hay is a scent he cannot grow accustomed to. Most of the village reeks; the stench of decaying wet wood and shit is so oppressive it clings to his coat. Personally, Karl finds the entire place to be an affront to his senses.

But worst is the people. Pious fools who consistently grovel and pray at the feet of Mother Miranda; yet cower in fear at the sight of the Lords.

Alcina revels in the fear. It feeds her massive fucking ego. Donna refuses to interact with any except for the few who work in her house. And Moreau is a disgusting freak whose only concern is the occasional validation that Mother Miranda may give. Karl, though, is not sure if he wants to be feared or validated.

A harsh wind blows past him, shaking the trees and nearly taking the hat off his head.

Snow is in the air. And with it, the promise of a harsh winter.

The human villagers have been in a panic about having enough food and supplies for the coming season. Karl has heard plenty of prayers, seen the offerings to Mother Miranda and the Lords in the tiny church. A few brave villagers even approached his factory at one point, asking for metal scrap.

Reluctantly, he gave them a few sheets of metal.

The humans of the village may fear the coming winter. In an attempt to survive, they give offerings to a Mother Miranda, a fake god. Their stoves are stacked with logs, and they cower under moth-bitten blankets hoping to see next spring. Karl does not share their fear.

He revels in the sensation of the cold slicing through his coat. Cold so sharp it reminds Karl of rust-coated metal. The frost-cold ground seeps through his mud-drenched boots. And as chilled wind bites his cheeks, Karl feels almost human.

Almost.

As Karl comes to the edge of the village that borders up to the forest, he stops. The woods are dark, and the path is barely visible through the overgrown brush and ever reaching trees. There are no lamps or torches to light the way. There is not even a sign. Yet, a trail of smoke rising above the trees comes from deeper within the forest.

He enters the dark forest. Immediately, his eyes adjust to the gloom. Similar to the village, the woods are quiet and cold. The trees creak in the wind as an owl screeches, causing every small creature to scuttle into the brush for safety.

Karl dislikes the forest almost as much as the village. There is not enough metal that sings for his touch. Not enough metal that is eager to bend beneath his command. The trees do not listen to him, roots do not break, and every fucking stone gets caught under the toe of his boot. The only good thing is the smell. But even then, the forest smells too pure. He feels like a trespasser.

The path ends in a small clearing with a small cabin in the center. It is surrounded by the remains of a wooden fence that fell to ruin long ago. A chicken coop is behind the house. Karl cannot stop himself from sneering at the smell of chicken shit. A small raised garden in the front of the house.

The cabin looks abandoned, but the black smoke climbing out of the chimney says otherwise.

Karl’s heart speeds up as he approaches the cabin. The stone pathway beneath his feet is new.

The metal lock on the door sings out to Karl. It would be easy for him to unlock the door using his powers, but he promised to stop doing that. The key in his pocket will do just fine.

Inside, the cabin is warm. The slow-burning fire in the fireplace casts the room in a golden light as shadows dance on the wall. The scent of mashed berries and cinnamon lingers in the air.

All the irritation and anger that was bubbling beneath Karl’s skin melts away. A single word comes to his mind: home.

The cabin is small but decorated by someone who loves their home. Pictures of people Karl does not know to hang on the walls. The faces are familiar, and he has heard their stories, but he cannot remember their names. Knick knacks and precious items linger in every part of the room.

On the opposite side of the room is a small makeshift kitchen area that is too small for one person. The stove is old and partially broken, but the sink and cabinets are new. A vase of flowers sits on the dining table. Next to the table are two chairs; one is partially pulled out, while the other is tucked away. A pang shoots through Karl when he notices the jacket and items piled on the unused chair.

A small couch sits in front of the fireplace. A blanket is lazily thrown over the back.

To his right is a partially opened bedroom door.

Karl shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack near the door. A familiar jacket is the only other coat hanging. His hat goes up next. And his boots are placed next to a pair of feminine boots.

The floorboards creak beneath Karl’s weight.

“Fuck, shut up,” he whispers.

The floorboards do not listen.

As Karl pushes open the bedroom door, the hinges squeak. He freezes, expecting the room’s occupant to wake up. But the room is quiet. And the form in the bed does not move. Behind him, the fire crackles.

The bedroom is small. The bed, which can barely fit two people, takes up most of the space. A pile of clothes lay on the floor near the foot of the bed. Paintings of the ocean and a field of flowers dot the walls. Karl has spent countless hours memorizing every swirl and color of the paintings.

Tucked into the bed is a woman. She’s buried beneath several layers of blankets. Karl can smell the lingering dust on them.

The mere glimpse of her makes his heart speed up, and his hands grow clammy.

For the longest time, Karl hated that she made him feel like a young man who has never been near a pretty girl. He hated the sweaty palms and word vomit he spluttered. He felt so weak that he decided to avoid her. But he couldn’t stay away for long, and he could not imagine chasing her off.

She shifts in bed but does not wake up.

Karl pulls off his shirt, tossing it into the pile near her bed. He winces at the noise his necklaces around his neck make. Even when set onto the bedside table, they still make a jingling noise. Even his belt clinks as he undoes it.

But still, the noises he seems to constantly make do not wake her. Karl is grateful.

Karl pulls the blanket back. She’s curled up on her side wearing a thread-worn nightgown. Carefully, Karl climbs into bed with her. He gets as close as he dares. The sweetness that clings to her skin is dizzying. He can't stop himself from reaching out and placing his arm on her waist.

She jolts at his touch and begins to move away. Karl hears her heartbeat speed up. He can smell the panic and fear already rising.

“Just me,” he rumbles in her ear.

She relaxes and leans into him. He feels the relief in her body.

“Karl,” she whispers.

He hums at the way she says his name. For the longest time, he detested his name. Karl. What the fuck is a Karl? Everyone else must agree that the name is terrible because no one calls him that, not even the family that Mother Miranda formed. Miranda herself hasn’t called him Karl since he was a child. For so long, he has been Lord Heisenberg.

But she calls him Karl. Karl. Karl. Karl. Karl. Whether she’s yelling at him, laughing with him, whispering to him in the darkness, or moaning his name with a reverence that should be saved for a church service, he loves how she says his name. He’s even begged her to never call him Lord Heisenberg, call him Karl. Only Karl. Karl. Karl.

“Karl?”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear me?”

“No.”

She rolls over in his arm to face him.

The orange glow of the fireplace slips through the cracked bedroom door, casting the faintest hint of light in the room. The curves and dips of her face are darkened, accentuating her features. The tip of her nose is highlighted, as is the plumpness of her cheeks. Her lips stand out the most. Karl has the urge to taste them, to taste her. But she can see the soft exhaustion in her eyes.

“I asked how your day was.”

It was shit, he thinks.

“Oh. It was fine,” he says.

Her eyes narrow. “Karl.”

He can’t keep her gaze. She knows him too well. Knows that when his jaw clenches, and he blinks twice that he is lying or avoiding the question.

But Karl can’t stop himself from lying to her about his day. He spent most of it with Mother Miranda and the other three Lords, so of course, it was a shit day. But he can’t tell her the truth because she will no doubt want to know why his day was shit. How can he tell her the religious leader of their village is a fucking cruel bitch? How would she react if he screamed about the other Lords? Moreau is fucking disgusting. And Angie is an annoying fucking freak. Not to mention the dick-cutting mega-bitch that is Alcina.

And worst is he can't explain to her that his shit interactions with the Lords and Mother Miranda were because of her.

All the Lords and most of the village know that Karl Heisenberg has a sweetheart he's trying to keep a secret. Angie asks irritating questions. Alcina gets this unhinged look in her eyes. While Mother Miranda is silent on the topic, but Heisenberg knows she is plotting something. He could see it with the slightest tilt of her head. The only one who doesn’t bother Karl is Moreau.

The sinister glint in Alcina’s eyes combined with Mother Miranda’s silence made Karl’s skin crawl. He knows they can hurt her, kill her, or experiment on her. Karl knows he needs to make some kind of claim on the woman in his arms before those two bitches can act.

Her hand cups his face, bringing Karl’s racing thoughts to a stop. He refuses to look at her. His face will reveal too much. She whispers his name, so soft and sweet, and he cannot refuse her anymore.

He meets her gaze, and she sees it all. The anger, hate, pain, and fear burned in him. But she does not push him away, only smiles and runs her thumb along his cheekbone. Her hands are gentle but worn from working in her garden behind the house.

“I will not pry for details, Karl. But you can be honest with me. I won’t judge you for having a bad day. We all have them.”

“I haven’t just had a bad day, sweetheart.” He clasps her hand that is still holding his cheek. “I’ve had a bad life.”

His voice cracks at the end. Body growing hot with embarrassment and fear of her judging him for the emotion that screams for release in his chest, Karl looks away. He cannot bear to see the rejection in her eyes.

But her silence is loud. Karl's ears begin to ring as his body grows hotter and hotter. He wants to scream for her to say something, anything. He wants her to push him away now for being a weak, broken man.

She does none of that. She sits up in bed, making sure to keep a hand on Karl, and readjusts her pillows. When she lays back down, she is sitting up. She smiles and opens her arms, welcoming him home.

Karl curls around her body, nuzzling his face into her chest. The tears in his eyes bleed onto her nightgown. If she feels the dampness grow on her chest or feel his trembling against her, she says nothing. She is silent as fingers moving gently against his skin. And slowly, the overwhelming emotion that nearly consumed Karl fizzles out until it is all gone.

“Your tits are soft,” he mumbles eventually.

She snorts. “Kind of like your gut.”

“Your tits aren’t hairy like my gut though.”

“And my tits are probably quieter. No grumbling from digestion.”

He hums in agreement. The only sound from her chest is the gentle beating of her heart.

“Go to sleep,” she whispers.

He opens his mouth to reply, but her fingers begin to move up and down his bareback. Nails that she keeps short and blunt leave soft trails along his back, taking care to ghost over the numerous scars. He can’t form a response, only hum at the sensation.

“Go to sleep, Karl,” she whispers again.

Her hands move up towards his head. She gently pulls at his hair, starting from the ends before pulling at the base of the strands. And with gentle fingers, she brushes through the knots in his hair, careful to not yank or hurt him.

Being in her arms is the closest thing Karl has ever been to having a home. Mother Miranda was no mother. And the other Lords are not his siblings. They are no family, just pawns that Mother Miranda will use as she pleases.

And used him she did. She took everything from him, turned him into a monster by making him perform terrible experiments. He’s numb to the monstrous things he has done and continues to do, that Karl does not feel human. Fuck, he hasn’t been human in so long.

But in this tiny cabin, in the arms of the woman he loves, Karl has a home and a family. And he feels human.

#karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 8

179 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Tempting Offer

EZ Reyes x OFC (Aanya Reyes)

Request by @garbinge: Ok and 43 with whoever your heart desires as well cause I’m a sucker for a good ol true love trope (from This List)

Warnings: so much fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I’m still not out of my writing slump. Still got a lot going on. But Anj sent me this request literal months ago and it’s been living in my brain ever since. Plus, I haven’t updated Remind Me in a hot minute so I figured doing a fluffy little prequel/spinoff would be a nice change of pace for a story that is so heavy with angst haha. I have a future chapter planned that actually references what happens in this story, so I’m excited to be able to share the real context for it all with you guys. Hope you enjoy! xo

EZ Reyes/Remind Me Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @berniesilvas @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04 @samcrobae @langiinspirations @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @lightblindingme

She knew who was at the door before she’d even heard the knock. She laughed as she made her way through her apartment, trying to slide her earring into place as she did. Pausing in front of her door, she took a moment to take a deep breath and get herself mentally prepared. It wasn’t their first date, but she still had the jitters as though it was.

Undoing the chain on the apartment door, she pulled it open. EZ was standing on the other side, hands hooked onto his belt since he hadn’t worn his kutte this time. Without a second thought his eyes scanned her over, a smile immediately taking over his features the longer that he looked at her.

“You look beautiful,” he nodded.

She bit down on her lip for a moment, her face heating up at the compliment, “Thank you,” stepping back, she waved for him to come in, “You can come in, I just gotta grab my shoes and purse and I’ll be good to go.”

“Take your time,” he lingered close to the door, glancing around her apartment.

It was the first time he’d ever stepped inside. He’d picked her up and dropped her off the last few times they went out, but he never went past the threshold of her place. She didn’t necessarily offer, and he wasn’t going to push it if she wasn’t ready or comfortable. However, as he stood there and looked around her living room and into what he could see of the kitchen, it seemed exactly like the kind of place she would live. It also made him very nervous to ever have her over at his trailer. Her apartment felt so fresh, all warm colors and walls covered with bookshelves. The one big set of windows that she had, had a bench with a few plants on it that were coming along well for being in a small apartment.

“Alright,” she was pulling the back of her shoe over her heel as she half walked, half hopped towards him. Standing upright as she landed in front of him, she flashed him a smile, “I’m ready.”

“You sure?” he chuckled.

“Positive,” she motioned for him to open the door, both of them walking through before she turned to lock it behind them. As she followed him, tucking her keys into her purse, she asked, “So do I get to know where we’re going tonight? Or is it a big surprise?”

He smiled at her as they walked down the flight of stairs to the ground floor of her apartment building, “It’s not a big secret.”

“Are we taking the bike?”

He shook his head, “It’s within walking distance.”

“Ooo,” she smiled over at him, “now you’ve got my attention.”

As the two of them walked along the sidewalk, EZ listened with genuine interest as Aanya recounted her day to him. He reveled in her stories of new books that she’d gotten into, and strange customers that she’d encountered during her day. Although if EZ was being honest with himself, he would have sat there and listened to her read every page of the phone book and he still would’ve kept his interest. She had more love in her words than most people had in their entire bodies, and he was captivated.

He stopped outside the door to a small diner, smiling over at Aanya before pulling the door open for her, “Right this way.”

Her face lit up, “I haven’t been here yet!” she walked through the door and turned around to face him, “I always meant to come here and just never made the time.”

EZ nodded as the two of them walked and found a booth to sit in, “My pops is really good friends with the woman who owns the place—she’s been buying from him for years.”

“You know,” Aanya casually flipped through the menu, “I’ve been to your father’s shop plenty of times and I’ve never seen you there.”

The statement got him to look up from the menu, “You’ve been to the shop?”

She laughed, looking over at him, “Of course. Only butcher in town, Ezekiel.”

“He’s never mentioned that he sees you.”

“Something tells me your father isn’t one for gossip,” she laughed for a moment before she paused, “You talked to him about me?” her lips curled into a smile.

“Well,” he drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he bit back a shy smile, “yea. Of course.”

They’d long since finished their dinner, but the two of them were perfectly content to just sit at the table and talk. The waitress knew EZ well enough and she very casually brought over coffee for each of them when she saw how good of a time the two of them were having. It’d been a long time since she saw EZ bring anyone around, let along someone who had him smiling the way that he was.

“I just can’t believe,” Aanya laughed between sips of her coffee, “that I’ve already met your brother. I should’ve known! I should’ve known that was him.”

“Why would you have known?” EZ chuckled.

“Because he was at your father’s shop! And he had on, you know the,” she gestured vaguely to her shoulders and chest, “the vest.”

EZ smiled, “The kutte?”

“Yes!” she pointed at him and nodded, “The kutte.”

“I feel like maybe I should mention that not everyone in a Mayans kutte is a Reyes brother. Angel just so happens to be both.”

She chuckled, nodding, “I figured that much.”

“I think Pop would lose his mind if there were any more of us,” he smiled.

Aanya laughed, “I think Felipe is usually on the brink of losing his mind anyway.”

“Raising Angel will do that to you,” he replied without missing a beat, both of them laughing.

“I’m sure you weren’t a cakewalk either, Ezekiel.”

“Well what makes you say that?” he leaned back in the booth, feigning offense before giving in and laughing.

Shaking her head and taking a moment to finish her coffee, she replied, “Your very sweet and handsome smile doesn’t fool me, EZ. I’m sure you’re just as much of a troublemaker as your brother.”

“You think I’m handsome?” he smirked.

Laughing, she nodded, “Of course I do.”

The two of them walked back to Aanya’s apartment. Along the way she’d casually linked her arm with his, leaning against his side as they walked. EZ tried not to get too lost in the sensation of it, trying to focus on what she was saying to him. He was trying to focus but there was something so comfortable, so right, about the feeling of her leaning into him the way that she was.

They made their way up the stairs, and EZ leaned against the wall next to her door as he watched her slip the key into the lock. The smile on his face was practically a permanent feature whenever he was with her, and it had been a long time since someone made him feel that way.

“I had a really good time tonight, Ezekiel,” Aanya leaned against her doorframe with a smile.

He adored the way his name sounded coming from her. With a slight nod, he replied, “Me too.”

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow when I’m done with work?”

“Yea, yea that works,” he reached forward and gently slid his hand into hers, “Let me know if any of the new deliveries look any good.”

“I always think they look good,” she chuckled, “If you want a real critic’s opinion, you should come in and talk to Laura. It’s…it’s hard for me to find a book I don’t like.”

“If you want, I can bring you some pretty terrible books.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughed, “Tempting offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Alright, but you’re missing out.”

“I guess I’ll have to live the rest of my life knowing that,” she laughed, shaking her head. Looking up and meeting his gaze, her smile softened, “Thank you for tonight. Get home safe, okay?”

“Always do,” he smiled before lifting her hand up and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, “Talk to you tomorrow.”

Standing up onto her toes, she placed a brief kiss on his cheek, “Goodnight, Ezekiel.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled as she walked through the door and closed it behind her. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself not to linger as he made his way back down the stairs, replaying the night over in his head with a smile.

The next morning, both EZ and Angel had shown up to the carnicería first thing to help Felipe with a large delivery. Angel had immediately gotten on his little brother’s case when he saw what a good mood he was in. EZ had always been the biggest morning person out of the three men, but even with that being true he still seemed peppier than usual. After a lot of questioning from Angel as they carried in one box after another, he caved and told them about his date from the night before.

Angel shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow, “No way. No way she’s real, bro. I just don’t buy it.”

“What do you mean you don’t buy it?” EZ laughed and shook his head, “She literally stops here all the time. She’s seen you here!” he gestured to the shop in its entirety.

“Really?” Angel seem perplexed, “She talk to me before?”

“I’m assuming not if you don’t remember.”

“Not everyone’s got a memory like yours, Boy Scout.”

“Nah, but you’d remember her.”

Angel rolled his eyes, mocking his brother, “You’d remember her. Jesus, EZ. Two dates with this girl and you’re already in love with her?”

“Four dates.”

“But who’s counting?” Angel smirked, “Look, I’m very happy for you and your very real girlfriend.”

EZ gave his brother a shove, but before it could descend into an all-out wrestling match, Felipe started ushering them both towards the door, “Go finish this somewhere that I don’t need to pay for everything you break.”

“Love you too, Pop,” Angel laughed as he let his father push them both out the door, the sign on it still saying that the shop was closed.

Despite the fact that they didn’t get to talk for their whole ride over to the clubhouse, as soon as they parked their bikes Angel was right back to giving EZ grief for the girlfriend he was convinced didn’t exist. EZ shook his head and laughed, taking the jokes and low-level verbal abuse in stride the way he always did. He knew that arguing past a certain point just made it all that much more fun for Angel.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Angel had moved on from making fun of EZ and has started going in on Coco and Gilly. EZ couldn’t say that he was upset about his brother’s shift in attention. He did, however, find himself frequently checking his phone to see if she’d texted or called. It wasn’t often that she messaged him while she was working, but it didn’t hurt to check.

He was just about to slide the phone back into the pocket of his kutte when it started to vibrate. Glancing down at the screen, he smiled when he saw Aanya’s name lighting up the screen, “Hey.”

“Hey!” her voice was bright, happy, on the other end of the line, “I’m just getting ready to leave—they got someone else in to close up tonight.”

“Oh, nice. I’m, um, I’m still at the scrapyard,” his free hand gripped the edge of his kutte.

“That’s fine, I figured. I thought of you earlier, though, when I was going through the new shipment of books that came in.”

“Did you?” he scuffed the toe of his boot against the dirt.

“I did. There’s one in here that I think you’ll really like. Can I swing by and drop it off?”

“You don’t gotta drive all the way out here. I can swing by your place if you want.”

“It’s fine, really. Besides, I have all this extra time on my hands now,” she laughed.

“Alright,” he didn’t have it in him to tell her no, “If you don’t see me, the guy Chucky who works the front office can come and get me.”

“Perfect. Alright, I’ll see you in a little bit.”

He knew that telling Angel that she was coming was only going to make the situation worse. If there was no time for him to prepare comments beforehand, there was the possibility that EZ could just do a normal introduction. It helped that everyone was relatively busy with club business.

EZ was walking back down the steps of the clubhouse, about to head towards the front office when he saw Aanya walking next to Chucky. The two of them were talking and EZ couldn’t help but to take on her contagious smile. He couldn’t hear what the two of them were saying but Aanya looked thoroughly amused, and knowing Chucky he had to assume it was something good. When she locked eyes with him across the yard, EZ could see her thanking Chucky before turning and heading in his direction. EZ immediately spotted the book hanging from her hand as she walked up to him.

“He seems so fun,” she nodded back over her shoulder in Chucky’s direction.

“Yea,” EZ laughed, “he’s somethin’ alright.”

EZ was too busy looking at the woman in front of him to see that Angel had seen her come onto the yard, watching intently as she walked over to his brother. Angel saw as the woman laughed at something his brother said, and for a second he really couldn’t believe that EZ had been being honest with them this whole time. Angel really thought that his little brother had just been exaggerating to get him and the rest of the club off his back.

“Looks like you’ve been working hard,” Aanya smiled as she reached up, cupping one side of his face in her hand as she thumbed a streak of dirt off his cheek with her thumb.

He felt like his skin was on fire at the contact, but he tried not to let it show, “Just trying to stay busy.”

“That makes two of us,” she laughed, “I hope you don’t mind me just popping up like this. I don’t want to intrude on everything you’ve got here.”

“You’re not intruding. If anything, you’re a very welcome distraction,” he chuckled.

“At least I’m welcome,” she smiled.

“Always,” he couldn’t stop looking at her.

The two of them stood there for a few moments before Aanya cleared her throat, remembering why she’d shown up at the scrapyard in the first place. She held the book close to her chest for a moment before handing it over to EZ.

“Just came in today, so I haven’t read it. But I read the first chapter or so while it was slow this afternoon and it seemed like something you’d enjoy.”

“I’ll be sure to write up a full report when I’m done with it,” he smiled.

“Lucky for you, I grade papers as generously as I review books,” she laughed, resting her hand against his chest. Her fingertips traced along the stitching of the leather covering his torso. Looking at his prospect patch for a moment, she looked back up at him, “Kutte.”

He laughed, nodding, “You got it.”

“It’s my one new piece of information for the week.”

“That and all the first chapters of books you’re going to be reading for the rest of the week,” he gave her a knowing look.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing if you worked there,” she lightly patted his chest.

“Maybe,” he rested the hand that wasn’t holding the book over hers, completely enveloping it.

“I don’t know how late you need to be here tonight, but if you want to come over later, you can.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by the invitation, “Yea?”

She nodded, “Yea. If you have plans with your brother or something I totally understand. Just thought I’d mention it.”

“I’ll be there,” he didn’t have plans, but even if he did he would’ve dropped everything for her, “I’ll give you a call when I leave here in case you need anything.”

“Sounds good!” she felt her heart beating a little faster in her chest, “Alright. I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll see you tonight?”

He nodded, “See you tonight.”

He was expecting her to flash him a smile and a wink before turning and walking away. But, much to his surprise, she gently cupped both sides of his face in her hands and pulled him down into a kiss. It took him a moment to really register what was going on, but once he did, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He could feel the way she smiled into their kiss and in that moment, he realized that there was nothing else in the world that he’d rather do. He’d drop damn near any and everything to be able to kiss her like that all the time.

She pulled away, hands still resting on the sides of his face. She smiled as she took in the slightly dazed look on his face. Tracing her thumbs along his cheeks, she gave him a soft peck on the lips, “Bye,” she let out a quiet laugh.

It was hard to get himself to force out the one-syllable word as he stared at her. He’d never been good at taking things slow, and as he stood there looking at her, seeing the way that she was practically glowing, he knew that he was very quickly falling in love with her. He wished he knew how to articulate the way that she made him feel, but instead he settled for getting his thoughts enough to say goodbye to her until he saw her again later.

He’d offered to walk her back to her car but she waved him off, insisting that she was fine and if nothing else Chucky would gladly escort her, which EZ knew was true. He watched her as she sauntered back towards her car and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His fingers curled tighter around the book in his hands, pressing it against his chest.

The feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket snapped him out of his daze. He reached into his kutte and pulled it out, sighing when he saw that Angel had sent a picture to the group chat with all the guys. Not knowing what to expect, he opened the message and saw a picture of himself and Aanya, one hand on his cheek while the other held the book. The next message was a text from Angel, one that made EZ shake his head, “Guess boy scout wasn’t lying after all. She’s real”

Before EZ could try to respond and come to his own defense, Gilly sent a message to the chat, “Still don’t buy it. I wasn’t there. Didn’t happen”

Knowing that it was just going to descend further into chaos, EZ decided he might as well play into it, “Alright. Guess you won’t care if I leave early to go and see my not real girlfriend then. See you guys tomorrow”

Angel called out to him from across the yard when he read the message, “Hey, hey. I don’t think I said all that!” Angel walked over to his brother, laughing the entire time, “Nah, nice to see she’s a real person.”

“Yea, that’s one of my favorite things about her,” EZ chuckled and shook his head, tucking the new book close to his chest.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes fanfic #ez reyes x oc #ezekiel reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes fanfic #ezekiel reyes x oc #oc aanya reyes #oc aanya #my writing #remind me #drabblesmc #fanfiction

123 notes · View notes

chilligyu · 3 years

Text

info: lee jihoon/gender neutral reader, pg, best friends to lovers au genre: fluff, romance | word ct: 5.5k warnings: none summary: when it came to love, no one was prepared. not even jihoon, who could spend hours turning words into magic, especially when love was mysteriously delivered in the form of a letter to his locker. note: heavily inspired by to all the boys I've loved before, but with a twist! no love triangles or anything like that, so just enjoy awkward people falling in love! and thank you to @dreamystuffers and @starlightjoong for taking a sneak peek and telling me what you think!

tagging: @xfirebenderx, @moriiyun, @ohmygoshcheese, @gyu-log

Lee Jihoon, a genius in many ways, was never good when it came to words. At least, not the spoken kind. The kind that you had to think up on the spot, responses, answers, comebacks, small talk, he was absolutely terrible at it. But if you gave him the time to think, to really dwell on his thoughts, he could create something truly beautiful. Which was why he preferred to express his feelings with letters. And while, yes, he could pen something magnificent, the next great classic novel perhaps, he typically kept his messages short and to the point. Much like the man himself.

There was one time that he wrote a “letter” that was simply—

F U C K Y O U

—printed out on seven separate sheets of paper and taped to a row of lockers. All in response to a teacher confiscating his iPod. No one could prove it was him, though, and nothing happened in response to it. He never admitted to his crimes, and despite it being painfully obvious who the author of the message was, there was no hard proof pointing to the culprit. It became the most well-known secret at their high school. And Lee Jihoon became somewhat of a living legend because of it.

The only one who knew the truth was you. His best friend. You were his go-to when it came to proof reading all of his letters. He was the writer, you were the editor. Half the time you were also a berating parent, chastising him for trying to assault people with words. Which was also why, more often than not, his letters never got sent. He would sit in his room for hours, writing letters that were either half the length of novels or only a few sentences long, and after giving it over to be edited, it would get tucked away in his desk drawer. Never to be seen or heard from again.

See, Jihoon was an emotional person. Not in the sense that most people would assume, he didn’t get offended easily, one mean comment wouldn’t leave him crying, he was simply—emotional. Whatever he was feeling, whether it be good or bad, it was powerful, sometimes overwhelming. So instead of erupting like a hormonal volcano, which he had already done plenty of, he put his emotions to paper. At the behest of his aforementioned best friend.

“You can’t go around yelling at people.” You began one afternoon just after entering high school. “Even if you’re writing it down, you’re still yelling at people.”

Jihoon, the definition of “hard to read”, was visibly pouting. “You’re the one who told me to write down how I feel. Now I can’t even send these to anyone?”

“I mean, you can.” You backpedalled. “I’m not your mother, despite Seokmin’s insistence. I can’t stop you from doing anything you’ve set your heart to. All I can do is advise you not to because you’re going to have a terrible few years here if everyone hates you.”

He clearly wasn’t thrilled by your logical response, but he admitted defeat anyway. “Fine. Don’t send the letters that I write. I get it. No one wants to read them.”

You groaned loudly. “You are so dramatic. I’m saying don’t send the literal hate mail to people. Don’t send the stuff you write to vent out your feelings. But if there’s something you want to say to someone, something that you can’t bring yourself to say out loud, by all means! Send the thing! I know you loathe the idea of talking to people, you also hate being misunderstood more.”

He also hated how well you knew him, not that he would ever say that out loud.

That was also something he wrote down in a letter, one he decided to send.

You crumpled it up immediately and threw it back at his face.

“Letters are powerful things, Jihoon.” You added. “They can break hearts, mend souls, and change lives with nothing more than words. Because words mean so many different things to so many different people. You just gotta say the right ones.”

At first, he was only humoring you. Honestly, he thought you completely senile until he gave it a shot. After spending hours hunched over his desk writing things no one else would see, he was starting to realize that maybe you had a point. Instead of roaming the halls shouting obscenities in his head, he was able to reassure himself by knowing he could write about it later. Even the smallest grievance, he would write it down. He would sometimes scribble it down on the margin of a textbook if he was feeling particularly overwhelmed in the middle of the day.

The letters became his therapy, his outlet, eventually he could stroll past some annoying upperclassmen and not feel rage coursing through his veins. It was—nice, almost. Not being subjected to his own hectic imagination at every turn. Feeling at peace for the first time in what felt like ages.

Until he found a letter in his locker, one addressed to him during his senior year. From a secret admirer. The contents of which would be seared into his memory for the remainder of time.

Lee Jihoon, it began.

I have never been able to tell you how I feel, in person or in a letter. For several months now, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to write letters like you for so long, and I just can’t get the words right. I don’t know how you do it. So I’m going to do something different. I’m going to stop being scared. If you meet me in the courtyard after school, I’m going to be brave for the first time in my life. Please help me be brave, Jihoon.

Again and again, he read that short letter. Practically baffled that someone out there wrote an honest-to-god letter that was addressed to an honest-to-god person. And that he wasn’t the writer, that he was the recipient. The thought alone made his heart race, and to comprehend that this secret admirer perhaps harbored feelings towards him? It was next to impossible. But no one writes a letter without true emotion behind it. That’s a fact he was coming to understand.

“I need you to come with me.” He told you after showing you the letter. “I’m—I’m not sure I can do this alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jihoon, obviously this person doesn’t want to make a public event out of their confession. You should really do this without me.”

“I know, and I’m not asking you to stand at my side or anything.” He reiterated. “Can you like—stand in a bush or something? If I know that you’re there I won’t feel the need to—"

“Did you just ask me to stand in a bush?” You guffawed. “You did not just ask me to stand in a bush Lee Jihoon because if you did then you’re about to get your ass kicked into next year!”

“I didn’t mean literally!” He quickly denied when he did, in fact, mean it literally. “Just—stand around the corner, okay? Be my moral support!”

Pursing your lips, you knew that there was no getting out of this. “Alright, fine. I’ll come with you. But I’m not happy about it.”

“I’ll pay you back, I promise.” He swore. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

A smirk teased at your lips. “You could mention it more.”

“Consider it done.” Jihoon grinned, gathering up his things and heading for the door. “Don’t forget! After school! Courtyard! Don’t be late!”

Once he was gone and you were completely alone, your face fell in disappointment. “I wouldn’t dream of it…”

By the time that school was finally over for the day, Jihoon was a bundle of overactive nerves. He was excited and terrified and anxious and nauseous all at once. The bombarding sensations kept him cemented in place, gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles were about to burst through. He had been like that for the entirety of their last class, still as a statue as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. You were standing in front of him, head tilted and wondering what he was planning to do next.

“Class is over.” You reminded him. “Everyone’s left.”

Very slowly, he nodded. “Y-yeah. I can see that.”

His voice sounded as if it had been completely stripped down. Like he had screamed himself hoarse by saying those few words.

“Your secret admirer is probably waiting.” You tried to spur him. “We should get going before I change my mind and head home.”

He audibly swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Well—maybe that’s best. Yeah, I can wait until tomorrow.”

You eyed him incredulously. “You’re going to stay here until tomorrow. You’re insane, get up.”

“I’d rather not.”

“And I’d rather not grow old and die here.” You countered. “C’mon, Jihoon. Your admirer asked you to help them be brave, how exactly is this helping them?”

He had to admit, you had a point. If they were brave enough to put their feelings out there, he had to at least meet them half way.

Sighing loudly, he started to pry his fingers off his desk. “Alright, fine. We’ll do things your way.”

You rolled your eyes for perhaps the hundredth time. “You’re absolutely insufferable. Why do I hang out with you?”

“Because I’m funny.” He said with the most serious face in the world.

Which actually made you laugh.

“I hate you.” You chuckled. “C’mon, let’s get going while we’re still young.”

Jihoon inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm himself down.

This is just the beginning.

Except—it wasn’t.

He stood in the courtyard, seemingly alone, with the note that brought him there clutched tight in his hand. As his moral support you were keeping your distance, as promised, but no one else joined you. Minutes passed and he did his best to remain hopeful. It was hard, especially when a familiar voice nagged at the back of his mind. The same one he struggled with every day to ignore.

No one would ever like you, so why did you bother thinking otherwise?

While the negative thoughts slowly took over, Jihoon didn’t know what to do next. He was defeated, almost destroyed. And even though you walked up behind him and took his hand in yours, it did little to stop the bitter tears from welling in his eyes.

“I should’ve known…” He whispered angrily. “This was all just—a joke. It’s always a joke. Who could ever like me?”

“Stop it, Jihoon.” You hissed at him, squeezing his hand tighter. “They said they were scared, maybe they couldn’t follow through with it. Maybe they were afraid of being rejected. You never know what’s going through someone’s head. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

Nothing you said was going to make him feel better. He quickly wrenched himself from your grip and backed away from you.

“I’m going home.” He clipped. “Bye.”

Before he left, he made sure to crumple up the note and toss it at your feet. When his heart was broken, he wore it on his sleeve. You understood what Jihoon was feeling, he had been living with an extremely low self esteem due to his height and his general inability to make friends for as long as you knew him. He was quiet, shy, reserved, he was slow to open up to others and hesitant to trust. That’s why you tried to be excited for him, and now that things hadn’t gone as planned in more ways than one your heart ached just like his.

The next day, Jihoon strolled into class like a drunk zombie. By the looks of him, he hadn’t slept a wink. Too busy being destroyed by his own thoughts to bother with anything like sustenance or sleep. He took up his seat beside you, and you immediately shoved your desk into his.

“Still upset?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

Sluggishly he lifted his head up and then quickly dropped it back down.

It was worse than you thought.

“Are you going to talk to me today?” You teased in an attempt to get a reaction. “Or am I going to have to go bother Hansol?”

Grumbling slightly, the barely responsive mass that was your best friend raised his hand and dropped a crumpled wad of paper on your desk. At first, you assumed it was just another one of his letters. They weren’t uncommon when he was feeling—unwell.

But it was another note from his secret admirer.

You were startled because he didn’t usually stop at his locker in the morning.

Lee Jihoon, it started similarly.

I’m sorry for not showing up yesterday, I was scared. I couldn’t bring myself to face you, please don’t be mad at me. I’d like to keep writing you letters, if that’s okay. Let’s get to know each other and maybe one day I can be brave again.

Once you were finished reading, you immediately began analyzing Jihoon’s face again. You had never seen him look like this before, completely vacant. While he was hard to read to the entire world, he was always an open book to you. Now reading him was nearly impossible even with your expertise.

“What are you gonna do?”

He shrugged lazily. “I don’t know. Sit here for the rest of eternity. Wait for the soft embrace of death.”

“Jihoon.” You exasperated. “We both know you’re not actually going to do that.”

Except he actually might and you actually couldn’t take that chance.

“Are you going to write them a letter?” You tried, again. “Maybe that will work out better.”

“I already did.” He murmured. “I don’t think they want to read it though.”

“Jesus Christ…” You groaned loudly, taking Jihoon’s face in your hands and looking him dead in his lifeless eyes. “They still like you, they’re scared and human like the rest of us, it is not the end of the world! Give them another chance and stop being such a goddamn drama queen!”

Silence. Pure unadulterated and perfectly aggravating silence.

“Alright, you leave me no choice. I’m bringing out the big guns.”

Being careful to keep an eye on the teacher, you pulled out your phone and started texting Jihoon’s mother. According to your message, you and Jihoon were going to be studying late at the library, and he would probably need to spend the night at your house. Which wasn’t a complete lie, maybe you would get some studying done. But, in all honesty, you had other things in mind.

“Take your pick.” You instructed, a box set in each hand. “Descendants of the Sun, or Record of Youth.”

Immediately after school, you dragged your best friend to your house and sat him down in front of the TV. Your parents didn’t even question it when you told them this intervention was a matter of life and death, that the patient might need to be admitted for the night. They simply let you do what needed to be done.

Jihoon, who had been relatively catatonic for the past 24 hours, finally showed a glimmer of something. He gave the slightest suggestion of a nod towards Descendants of the Sun and you happily popped in the first disk. As you claimed a spot beside him, popcorn and banana milk in tow, he naturally relaxed against you. You were the only person who got to see him unguarded like that, the only person he himself would allow. And while he was typically someone who kept his true self hidden from the world, there was a part of him that would forever belong only to you.

“Thanks.” He practically whispered, resting his head on your shoulder. “I—I needed this.”

“I know.” You smiled. “Are you ready to talk yet?”

He sighed heavily. “No. Not really. I still have a lot of thinking to do.”

“Well, if you need help thinking you know where I’ll be.” You offered without wanting to seem pushy.

If you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn he actually chuckled.

“Yeah. I do.”

Little by little, your best friend was slowly returning to normal—or as close to normal as you’ve ever seen him. Eventually he started getting sucked into the drama, going rigid when things got tense, and actively pretended he wasn’t crying whenever You Are My Everything played. It was, overall, a job well done. You could sleep easy knowing that Jihoon would be just fine. As you drifted off, you felt him hold your hand and squeeze it gently.

Everything was going to be okay.

And if only to prove that point, the next day was nothing like the one before. Jihoon was back to his old self as if nothing had happened at all. Just another Thursday without a word or whisper about the chaotic tornado his secret admirer had unleashed onto your day-to-day life. He even had a letter for you to read by the time lunch rolled around. Apparently, some freshman irritated him over something seemingly small. At least—to you it seemed barely worth mentioning. But nothing ever really felt small to Jihoon. It was all or nothing, always living in black and white. Which meant that almost everything was important to him in some way. So you read the letter, and you edited it gladly.

Once you were done, he had something else for you. Another note from the admirer.

“This is the third one, right?” You murmured, glancing it over once before looking up at him. “Have you written back yet? Besides the one where I assumed you insulted their very existence with your entire arsenal of hurtful words.”

The blush crawling up his neck was an answer in and of itself, but the thick stack of paper he pulled out of his backpack solidified it.

“I’ve tried a few times.” He admitted hesitantly. “Nothing I write is good enough.”

“Oh, only a few times?” You teased, knowing full well that Jihoon’s definition of a few was the same as calling Jane Eyre a short shopping list. “What’s got you so stuck? Usually you have no issues penning essays over trivial things like cracks in the sidewalk.”

His brow furrowed defiantly. “Hey, proper sidewalk and road maintenance is important to modern infrastructure. If we start overlooking cracks in the pavement, then what? What about traffic lights? Can we afford to allow a single bulb to go out? No, of course not. That’s anarchy.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“Jihoon…” You started with an exasperated look. “I was joking.”

Trying to hide the fact that his blush was turning a deep crimson, and failing quite miserably, he pulled a paper from the stack and put it back in his bag. Also something he tried, and failed, to hide from you.

“Are you kidding me!” You laughed, raking a hand down your face. “Did you seriously have a letter in that pile you were going to send to our congressman?”

“No—yes—ugh!” He groaned. “Can we forget about the stupid sidewalk for a second! That’s not important right now! Help me! How do I do this?”

Deciding you had teased your best friend enough, you placed your chin in your hand and smiled at him. “How do you do what, exactly? I’ve never had anything to do with the letters you write, I just read them so someone knows how you’re feeling.”

Who were you kidding, you could never tease Jihoon enough.

He rolled his eyes so hard that he rolled his whole head with them. “Like you’ve ever needed further insight into my head, you always know what I’m thinking before I do.”

True.

“But I don’t understand the first thing about—this.” He finished with a labored sigh, gesturing sharply to the handwritten novel in front of him. “You know that better than anyone.”

Again, he was telling the truth. In the years you had known Jihoon he had never developed serious feelings towards someone else. He had barely entertained the notion since entering high school. He always talked himself out of it because feelings were complicated and bothersome. Plus, he was terrified of being rejected. Like most people are. His intrusive thoughts just so happened to be louder than most.

“I hate to break it to you, Jihoon,” You started in a whisper, “no one knows the first thing about this. Not even me. The only person who can help you is yourself.”

His sour expression made it obvious that he obviously didn’t like your response. “Great. Super helpful. Thank you for your continued wisdom.”

When he moved away from you, you grabbed him by the sweater and pulled him back in. “Why do you always stop listening to me when I’m about to make my point?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Because it takes you forever to fucking get there.”

“Alright, you got me there.” You chuckled. “Listen, I’m not kidding when I say that you’ve got to do this one on your own. As much as I can usually sense what feelings are doing somersaults in your stomach, this is a first for you and therefore a first for me. I’ve never seen you like this before, so unfortunately you’ve got to discover this one on your own.”

As you spoke, his features slowly softened until all that remained was a very nervous teenager who didn’t want to screw up his first real chance at love. That’s all Jihoon was at his core, that’s all anyone was.

But you had to admit he almost looked kind of cute.

Almost.

“How do you always know what to say?” He grumbled while crossing his arms. “It’s annoying.”

“You’ve got a really weird way of saying thank you.” You smirked playfully. “Well, maybe this last nugget of advice will get you started in the right direction.”

“Why are you always—” He seethed through his teeth. “How are you still not at whatever your point is!”

You shrugged, because you honestly had no clue. “I'll get there when I get there. You want to hear it or not—”

“Spit. It. Out.”

“Now is that anyway to—”

Wow. You stopped, suddenly fearing for your measly life. If looks could kill—

“Alright, alright, you win.” You conceded. “If you’re having issues writing a letter to your secret admirer, here’s my advice. Stop trying to put words to your feelings and start putting feelings into words. You’re spending too much time trying to say it perfectly that you’re not saying it at all. It doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else, it doesn’t even need to make sense to you. So long as you put them out into the world, they’ll be heard and one day they’ll be understood. You get me?”

The look on his face was—strange. You had a hard time placing it, which should’ve been weirder than it was. In fact, you were seeing lots of different sides to Jihoon lately, sides you never thought existed. This time his eyes widened, the aforementioned scarlet blush had disappeared, and there was a radiance to him that you had never seen before. Like suddenly he could see clearly through the storm of his thoughts.

“Thank you.” He exhaled with a smile. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

Feeling triumphant, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m starting to wonder what you’d do without me, Jihoon. Three days and you’ve been completely undone and redone by this letter.”

“Letters are powerful things.” He muttered. “They can break hearts, mend souls, and change lives. You taught me that.”

“I guess I’m a pretty good teacher.” You boasted, giving him a squeeze. “Despite the fact that I’m actually quite terrible with words.”

He shrugged off your arm. “Except you always know what to say, how exactly does that work?”

“Just because I can make you see reason doesn’t mean I’m good with words.” You laughed easily. “That simply means that I’ve perfected the art of understanding the impossible. Lee Jihoon. I can’t use words like you do. Trust me I’ve tried, I can never get the words right.”

For a moment, he didn’t have any sort of response. Which was definitely weird. It was a well-known fact that he was terrible with the sorts of words he had to speak, but he didn’t have issues when talking to you. That’s because you were friends, best friends. There had never been this sort of unnerving silence before. Not that you could remember, anyway.

What is going on in your head, Jihoon? You found yourself wondering since you couldn’t read his face. Have you started to figure it out?

“Sorry, I was thinking.” He muttered suddenly, shaking his head. “But I know what I need to write now. Will you read this one too? Even if it gets pretty long?”

“Of course!” You exclaimed with a smile. “When have I ever shied away from a challenge?”

The soft glisten in his eyes made your heart flutter.

“Never.”

When the bell rang and you parted ways, you wondered if Jihoon had ever written you a letter.

Well there’s a first time for everything.

For the next week, he was in full writer mode. And there were no more notes from his secret admirer, not that you expected there to be any. Every chance he got he was scribbling something down on whatever surface he could get his hands on. Textbooks, paper, his arm, he was more inspired than you’d ever seen before and nothing was going to stop him. He didn’t even come over to your house over the weekend, a ritual you hadn’t broken in the ten plus years you had known each other. It was a lonely week, for sure, but you knew it was for a good cause.

Then, after what felt like an eternity of silence, he approached you in the courtyard with a single sheet of paper in his hand.

“Hey…” He started uneasily, his grip tightening. “How’re you?”

Seriously? You mused to yourself with a smile. “I’m good, how’s the writing?”

“Done.” He clipped. “And—I think I covered everything.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, eyeing the sheet of paper. “With all of that writing I thought you’d have a novel for me.”

He shook his head, while a blush crawled up his neck. “Sometimes being concise is more effective than being overly wordy.”

“That’s true.” You grinned. “Easier for me to edit anyway.”

Nodding, he shoved the paper into your hand. “Here. Take your time, I don’t want you to rush it.”

“I won’t.” You promised, resisting the urge to start reading right away. “I know you put a lot of thought into this.”

With that, he turned around and walked off without another word. Leaving you holding something that looked like little more than pen ink on paper, but felt like a confession on fire. Once he was out of eyesight, you exhaled a breath you had been holding unintentionally and started reading.

To the person I have never loved before. It began, and you weren’t prepared for the roller coaster you had willingly climbed into.

This isn’t for the person I’ve loved all along, no. This is for you, someone who managed to stir my emotions more than a raging monsoon with only a few words and the hint of a promise. Who are you? I wondered to myself, because you were without equal. How could I have missed you? You were extraordinary. You didn’t have a face, all I had of you was a letter slipped into my locker, you were a ghost and I was set ablaze by your words. I had never felt like that before, my heart was unprepared. As was I. You made me question everything, and made me realize things I had never seen before.

What I felt for you wasn’t love, even though I thought it was at first. You presented me with feelings I decided I would never feel, so I could only assume that it was love. I felt like a live wire, ready to spark at a moment's notice. All I could think about was you. The infinite options and scenarios I dreamt up, all because of you, was astronomical. It was exhilarating, and I found myself drunk on the endless possibilities that you presented me. What else could make me feel that way, if it wasn’t love?

The answer was one I didn’t expect, and it hit me like a tsunami. I started to feel that way towards someone I already know. Someone who has cared for me more than anyone should, they have been my best friend for years so how could I suddenly feel the same way? How could my friendship for them become intertwined with the love I thought was solely reserved for you? And how could I have missed it after being enveloped by their warmth for so long?

You changed all of that. You made me see clearly for the first time in years and I was completely undone. Everything I knew was suddenly challenged, my feelings towards the most important person in my life changed without any warning, and I didn’t know what to do. How could I ask them, a friend, to see me as anything more? I was lost, trapped in an endless loop of destructive thoughts and desire. Desperately wanting to scream my feelings from the rooftop while fearing the voice that would have to put words to them. Your feelings for me awakened my feelings for them, and suddenly the words that have given me comfort for so long escaped me.

Still, you helped me.

In ways I can only thank with this letter.

You helped me because you are the one who told me to start writing letters. It’s always been you. You are the one who has given my thoughts meaning when I struggled to communicate with the world. One that could never understand someone like me. You are the one who wrote me a letter, asking a coward to help you be brave. It took me a while to realize that you were one and the same, but I picked up on the hints you left behind. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out.

Would you have showed up had I not asked you to come with me? I think about that often, were you only afraid because my initial thought was that there was no way it could be you? The impossible notion that my best friend could love me anymore than they already do? I have a thousand more questions I want to ask you, but I think I’m brave enough now to ask you in person.

So I’m going to end this letter here, because you deserve so much more than the words I’ve hidden behind for years. A letter I started to write for someone I thought I didn’t know, to the person I’ve never loved before. Funny, how it ended up being a letter to the person I’ve loved all along.

As you read the last line, tears already streaming down your face, you had never felt happier.

“You figured it out.” You whispered, almost in disbelief. “For a second there I thought you never would.”

You don’t know when Jihoon came back, but he was suddenly standing in front of you taking your hand in his. “It really shouldn’t have taken me that long, I’ve only seen your handwriting a thousand times before.”

Laughter bubbled past your lips as you dried your tears with your sleeve. “I was terrified that you would’ve figured me out from the very beginning. Looks like I really give you too much credit sometimes.”

“You do.” He agreed. “So, what did you think of the letter? Any edits you can think of?”

“This isn’t the type of letter that needs editing.” You stated plainly. “It would take away from the author’s meaning.”

“What would that be?” He asked, clearly teasing you. “Enlighten me.”

You shook your head defiantly. “No, no way. It’s your letter, why don’t you tell me what it’s supposed to mean?”

Part of him didn’t want to make it easy, that much you knew with absolute certainty. But, for the sake of time and your poor heart, he would let you off the hook. Just this once.

“That I love you.” He said softly. “More than anything else.”

Choking out a sob, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in close.

“I love you too, Jihoon.”

In the end, neither of you were good with words, but you only needed to know what to say to each other.

106 notes · View notes