#write whatever weird stuff you want but the rest of us would appreciate being able to avoid it! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

professorspork · 3 years

Note

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do.

#typeoneninja #emerald sustrai #nora valkyrie #rwby #emerald and nora #fic what i wrote

325 notes · View notes

havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

Text

Extra Credit

based on this cause @avhrodite and I were texting, and she told me to write it! so this is for you miss bailey <3

also feedback is always appreciated! literally rb, comment, or an anon ask means the world to fanfic writers, now that tumblr’s algorithm is messed up.

enjoy 7.6k of professor!harry lovelies!

also the intimidating as fuck photo that inspired this, and will be used in the story!

Sexuality Studies. Room 3017.

You had stalled from walking into class with a nervous gut feeling in your stomach with a heavy textbook in your arms, too big to be put in your backpack, but it felt like your book was weighing you down. People were walking around each other to find a vacant seat as you stood there next to the door as you waited till the last minute to walk in and take your seat.

There were a few reasons why you were nervous to walk in. One, it was basically sex class. Your friend had taken the class a few semesters ago, and had told you the basics of it and the rundown. There was a lot of sex talking towards the end.

And although, you’ve had had sex before, you still felt like you were inexperienced. Your sex life was boring, and nonexistent as of a month ago when you broke it off with your, now ex, friends with benefits. He just wasn’t doing the job, like at all. He never made sure you were having a good time or getting off. And that’s just one of the reasons why you broke it off with him. Luckily, he wasn’t mad and didn’t ask questions. Just said ‘oh, okay’ and bid his goodbye. That had made you a bit sad, knowing he didn’t care whatsoever. You two had only been fucking for a month, and the excitement had left your body the first night you slept with him.

The second reason goes along well with the first, and that’s because you aren’t that comfortable. Again, you’ve sex, but you weren’t comfortable in yourself--your sexuality. You never really had time or experience to explore your body or others because you’ve only slept with two people. In that sense, you didn’t know what you liked sexually and what your partner liked, other than blowjobs, handjobs, and being able to cum while fucking you. But there was more to it; you wanted the details, the ticks, sensitive spots, everything. But you’ve slept with lousy frat boys who didn’t care enough to ask if you had finished.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing that you have about two minutes before you have to go in. You take a deep breath, walking over to the opposite side of the wall, preparing yourself to walk in. You don’t know why it was so hard for you to just walk in and sit down. The thought of having to sit through an hour and a half class that is mainly about sex isn’t that hard to deal with either, but your insecurities and anxiety is getting the better of you. With a couple of neck rolls and inhales to deep exhales, you were ready before you heard a voice next to you.

“Nervous about the first day?” You look up to find an incredibly attractive man smiling down at you. His smile had made you blush and his intent eye contact had made you nervous. The way he just looks insanely sexy, and you think his hair is better than yours. He wears a simple button down shirt with two birds next to the collar, along with black jeans and boots. And you think, he’s so good looking and dresses well too. For a student, you don’t see anyone dress or look like him at all.

“Uh, kinda? I don’t know,” you say as you are not quite sure what to answer, so you said the easiest thing that didn’t have to do with how you’re feeling right now.

“No need to be nervous. This semester will go by quickly and I heard the professor is really cool too,” the man says with a reassuring smile, and you felt a bit better because he was right. This class would be a breeze and then you wouldn’t have to retake it, unless you fail.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you. Uh, do you want to sit next to me?” You made the bold move to ask him, and it had shocked you. You never made the first move, but you figured that you needed more friends anyways.

“Oh, thank you, but can’t do that. Let’s go in, shall we?” He waves his hand out, leading you to go first.

You cheeks were filled with embarrassment, thinking that your bold move was a stupid move. Of course, he didn’t want to sit next to you. He barely knows you. You roll your eyes at yourself, making your way to the first row as all the seats behind the front row were taken, and you didn’t want to take the time to look around. You take a seat as your head sank lower from awkwardness you had felt, and you set your book down on the desk and heard your professor speak.

“Hello, class. Welcome to ‘Sexuality Studies.’ I’m Professor Styles. Shall we get started?” Your mouth had been open the entire time he was introducing himself. Shocked was an understatement as you didn’t realize you were talking to your professor outside of the class, but that hadn’t made your embarrassing moment less worse.

How did you not realize that? You should’ve seen it coming because you were thinking about how no student on campus dresses or looks the way he does, and you didn’t think to put the pieces together.

But, fuck.

He was sexy as a ‘student’, but as the professor, that was a different story. You had felt the weird feeling in your stomach, triggering your arousal as you watched him talk to the entirety of the class about what’s to be expected. You turned around slightly and observed the room; noticing that most of the class were girls and there were a few guys, but the female population dominated the class. All the girls had hearts in their eyes, twirling, and biting their lip as they stared at their new professor; probably hoping they would get some extra credit in the middle of the semester to raise their grade or purposefully failing their test so he can call them into his office and they can have classic office sex.

The thought had made your eyes roll. Not at the thought of office sex because everyone knows that’s hot, but the thought of purposefully doing horrible in the class to fuck the professor is beyond you.

The class had gone by rather quickly, Professor Styles only talking about the basics of what everyone is going to learn such as culture, biological, health, anatomy, art, etc.

You walked out of the class in a hurry, not looking at your new professor and anticipated the next time you’ll meet.

The month had gone by rather smoothly, only taking two classes for the semester, so your workload isn’t too bad. The occasional thought about thinking your professor was a student had haunted you, and you think about it a bit more than you would like; feeling quite embarrassed and you’d hope that he had forgotten all about it.

You were sat at the coffee shop, head in your laptop and notes that you had taken during lecture as you were starting on your paper that is due in a little over two weeks. You were so into your introduction that your fingers were typing away on their own, that you didn't feel the presence of someone beside you.

“Hi. You’re in my sexuality class, right?” A voice from your right becomes present, and you look up, seeing your incredibly attractive professor looking down at you with a smile. There was no way in getting out of this one.

“Yes. Mr. Styles, hi,” you say nervously, but trying your best to hide it with your smile.

“Thought I recognized ya. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. I’m actually working on your paper right now,” you chuckle a bit.

“Are ya? What are you writing it on?” You get a bit sidetracked, realizing that he’s still standing and all of your stuff sits on the opposite side of the table. You reach over to move it onto your lap.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you offer. Harry debates for a second, and sees that there’s no harm in sitting with your student, so he gladly takes the seat across from you. “But I’m writing it on the fine line between masculinity and femininity.”

“Ahh, yes. That’s one of my favorite topics that we discussed,” he says.

“Yeah, me too. Pretty important for this day in age.”

“I’m right there with ya,” he agrees.

For the next 20 minutes, you and Harry talk about some main points. Discussing and going over what ideas you had in mind as Harry listens while nodding his head. He notices how passionate you are with the topic of your paper, and he appreciates the passion. Students will lazily write this paper, and it really shows in their work that makes him a bit disappointed because he had thought that he made the class fun; adding a few jokes and having the student participate with the lecture.

But listening to you talk about all the ideas that you wrote down; so far from the earth as you keep talking as he listens intently to you. You’re a sweet person, he’s noticed. You don’t participate all that much in class, but he figured that’s because you’re just a tad bit shy. And he’s still amused at the fact that you thought he was a student, which flattered him. But in all honesty, he can pass as one, and it wasn’t the first time someone mistaken him for a student.

Just as you were finished talking, a hint of pink made your cheeks flushed as you realized you were talking quite a bit, and keeping him from doing whatever he was supposed to. “I’m sorry. I tend to talk a lot when I get into things.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I’m glad you told me your ideas because I think they’re great.” He checks the time on his phone and sees that he should get going, and his coffee cup is empty already. “But I should get going. Don’t hesitate to ask me about anything for the paper. I’ll see you in class.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles. Have a great rest of your day,” you bid him goodbye as he softly says ‘you too.’

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Although you had been comfortable talking to him, you have never actually had a close conversation with any of your professors, really. Especially not outside of campus. But you really did feel comfortable. You figured that it’s because Harry is in a way, younger than most professors—at least he looks young.

The rest of your time at the coffee shop was spent finishing up the second paragraph and your coffee before you head back to your apartment.

The paper was due in a week, and you felt confident about turning it in on time and doing a great job on it. But that did not stop you from going into Mr. Styles’ office during his office hours, and he did say not to hesitate to ask if you had any questions, so you were using that to your advantage to make your paper even better.

He was surprised to see you just after two days of seeing him at the coffee shop that happened the week prior; asking him how to rephrase some things and seeing where some ideas fit into the paragraphs that are already written. And Harry happily helped you. Although he thinks you don’t need help at all, seeing as you’re right on track on the topic.

But you had felt a sudden surge of confidence that has never hit you before. And you can tell yourself that you’re comfortable enough to ask him questions all you want, but in reality, you wanted to keep talking to him and most importantly, keep seeing him.

He had this sense of comfort to him that made you feel safe. You never felt the awkward tension that there is in when talking to other professors, and you were glad for it. Mr. Styles had made it a safe space for his students to talk to him. And aside from asking him about school related things, you two had gotten to know each other after the important questions were asked. The conversations were harmless, and you looked forward to them everytime.

A knock was heard on his office door and he told whoever was behind it to come in. You walked in with a smile, laptop and notebook held to your chest, walking in slowly as you closed the door behind you.

“Hi, Mr. Styles. Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, “no, no. How can I help you?” Harry had—and was still trying—to keep it professional between you two. And although nothing had happened, he can’t help but stop the flutter of his heart when you would walk in his class or his office as you gave him a small that he adored. He also noticed how concentrated you are during class; making sure to take every single note and word that he says, making him smile at the thought.

“Uh, I was kind of stuck on something that I could definitely use your help with.”

“Sure thing. That’s what I’m here for,” he gives you a smile, and you open your notebook, showing him the many marks and scribbles that you had planted out when brainstorming.

“So I came up with this idea because I thought it would be important to talk about the history of masculinity and femininity. I didn’t want to just talk about the modern times as of now. But maybe research how it affected people back in the day when they weren’t acting as their…assigned sexuality, as you could say.”

“That sounds great. You can talk about that and during the times of the first pride march. That would definitely be interesting. But I would say not to go too into it, it’s a pretty straightforward topic, and there’s just a lot that is covered during those times. Just so you don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he gives his opinion. You listen carefully and take in his words as if you’re making a mental list of things you should and shouldn’t write about.

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just wanted to ask you that,” you say as you close your notebook, but not getting up to leave yet.

“Okay, can I ask you something this time?”

“Uh, sure,” you respond nervously.

“I see that you’re pretty much on track of the paper, like you know what you’re talking about. And you seem really confident in what you want to say, which is good. And I’m all ears when it comes to students wanting feedback, but I just have to ask….” anxiety boils through your throat. “Is coming to see me practically 2 or 3 times a week have to do with your paper?” You take a deep inhale, but don’t let your breath loose. He read you extremely well, you have to say. And it was a bold move on Harry’s part to ask that because if you say the opposite, then he assumed pretty hard.

You finally let go of the breath you were holding in and answered, “no.”

“No. It doesn’t have to do with your paper?” You shake your head in confirmation. “Then what does it have to do with?” He asks, and you think he definitely already knows what’s going on, but needs you to say the words.

“I just…wanted to see you,” you say softly.

“And why is that?” At this point, he’s teasing you already. Probably wanting to make a fool out of yourself so he could go home and laugh about it to his girlfriend or boyfriend, which you assume he has. And the bold assumption that you had thought he felt that pull towards you was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the second time in front of him.

But the remains of the confidence were still pooling in your head, and you figured you had nothing to lose.

“I wanted to see you because… I can’t deny this attraction I feel towards you. And it’s not based solely on your looks either because no can hide the fact that you’re insanely attractive, but I’ve gotten to know you for who you are this past week and we had some good talks, which was nice because no one has ever gotten to know me well enough for me to fall for them within a week.”

You finish your confession with a straight face, but there was still a hint of hope that he would tell you he felt the same way.

“And on the topic of no one getting to know me, and this is a sexuality class and you’ve recently started talking about sex; I’ve never truly had the chance to explore with partners sexually and explore my sexuality more in depth than just someone sticking their dick inside me, and calling it good sex. So, you talking to me and getting to know me means a lot because no one wants to waste their time on what I like and what I’m into.”

You had said a mouthful, and it can be heard as inappropriate to say that to your professor, but again, why would a sexuality teacher judge you based on your past sex life?

A minute had passed that immediately felt like an hour. The only thing that was heard was the ticking of the wall clock, and that made the tension even more unbearable.

You get up from out of the chair, “I’m gonna go. Thanks for the help, Mr Styles.”

Before you reach for the door, he finally decides to speak, “Wait.” You turn around slowly and watch him get up from his chair, and walk towards you. His eyes are dark, and they don’t leave yours as he reaches you.

The proximity is close enough that you could lean forward and be pressed up against his chest, but you’re afraid that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you do that.

“You’ve fallen for me?” Is the thing that he could respond with after all that you’ve said.

“Yes. I’ve developed a crush on you, well, more than a crush because I do like you,” you say as you look up at him. He looks down at you intently, lips rolled into his mouth. He smells amazing from how close you are, that it’s like a potion that keeps luring you in, wanting more.

“Do ya?”

“I think I make myself pretty clear on that,” you respond with a bit of sass.

“Don’t give me attitude,” his tone changed to dominant, and a pool in your panties made itself present.

“What are you gonna do about it, Mr Styles?” You test, and move closer to him, lips almost touching. You can possibly reach up and your lips will be in sync. A smirk comes to play on his face as if you’ve made the wrong move, but you’re so ready for what’s to come.

And for a split second, it looked like he was leaning in a tad bit to go in for a kiss, but retracts back. “I’ll see you in my next class.” With that, he pulls back and walks back to his chair.

You’re left stunned, mouth slightly open, surprised he didn’t make a move. He didn’t even tell you if he felt the same way, and if it were any other day, you would’ve felt extremely sad, but there was so much tension in the room you needed to go home and take care of yourself.

And that’s what you did.

Once you got back home, you ran a bath for yourself and sat in it as you ran over your skin, leading to where you ached the most. Many thoughts of Mr. Styles doing this to you as he sat behind you in the bath, knowing that you would make a mess on his long fingers and pretty hands. And that definitely helped you reach our orgasm as you moan out his name, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly odd about it.

You finally turned in your paper on the last day it was due, and you were extremely happy with it. You added the history of not acting like your original self, taking Mr. Styles’ advice and not going too in depth with it. This has marked as a halfway point to graduating with your bachelors, and you were ecstatic.

It had also been a week since the tension filled scene that had happened in your professor’s office, and you haven’t been back since. Seeming as you didn’t need to since there were no needed assignments, but you had thought you would visit him in his office everyday after what you had confessed.

It didn’t get easier sitting in his class as he stood up in front of everyone looking so hot as he wore a crisp blue button down with a polka dot tie, and a pink blazer over it. He knew your secret. He knew that you had the hots for him. And he knew that he didn’t say anything to reciprocate those feelings. And you tried very hard not to let it get to you.

The lecture had ted to your paper topic: masculinity and femininity. But this time, it was open for class discussion. You weren’t big on talking in class; just preferred listening to everyone’s opinions and making your own in your head, but the ignorance that someone had made you argue with him.

“I personally feel like men should stay on the masculinity side, and women on the femininity side.” You had turned around to see the guy who had said that. He was wearing a football jersey of the university, laughing with his two friends.

“And why do you think that?” Mr Styles follows up.

“It’s simple. You shouldn’t act as if you’re someone you’re not-”

“That makes a good point in your argument though,” you interrupt, turning in your seat to look at the jock at the top. “You shouldn’t act like someone you’re not, so why would you act like someone you don’t want to be?” The guy had shut up, making you smirk. “I just think that being masculine and feminine as your biological gender is a social construct. It just takes away the substance of that person when people look down on them for being true to themselves. So, why does masculinity only apply to men, and femininity only apply to women?”

Harry smirks at your discussion. It had surprised him that you spoke up in his class, but it didn’t surprise him when you spoke up about this topic. You had definitely shut down his other student, and he was proud of you for that.

The class was dismissed and as you were making your way towards the door, someone stopped you.

“Hey, really great argument back there.” It was the ignorant jock.

“Thanks.” You walked out of the class to get out of everyone’s way, stopping at the wall across from the class.

“I didn’t mean to sound so douchey back there, but what you said really got me thinking, and I see where you’re coming from.”

“I’m glad. You learn something new everyday…”

Harry was watching you the entire time you left your seat to when his student stopped you to have a chat. He had thought you were going to shut him down for being ignorant, but he saw you smile and laugh a little, making him breath deeply as he glared at you, brows furrowed, and coffee cup in his hand. Harry then sees him take out his phone, obvious that he’s asking for his number and he sees you blush as you talk.

Harry tries to control his breathing, and in another world, steam would be coming out of his ears. He walks towards the door, thinking that he was going to call you into his class, but decides against it and shuts the door.

It was already nearing the end of the semester, and you have yet to talk to him.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you had slightly gotten over his unreciprocated feelings, you would have probably dropped out of the class and waited another semester to finish. But you couldn’t let him do that to you; you were way too close to the finish line.

Mr. Styles was in his final topic of speaking about the fun part of sex, and how it could be pleasurable. He talked about the anatomy of it at first, moving onto the techniques. And the techniques he used on how to pleasure a woman and man had you hot in your seat. He demonstrated using his finger, showing the class the way to finger someone, and you couldn’t help but cross your legs. And you were sure everyone was doing so as well.

The simple demonstration of his fingers making a curling motion as if he’s fingering someone made you clench. You had been right about his fingers bringing you to pleasure, and all you wanted to do was rush home and imagine it again since you have a full visual.

“Okay, class. I have an extra credit opportunity for you.” The class perks up at that. You had a low A in the class, and although you were confident about the final, you didn’t want to risk it, so you listened.

“Since this is a sexuality class, I hoped I didn’t make anyone uncomfortable on what I just did,” the class laughed a bit, and you smiled. “For this extra credit, I want you to go to a sex store and buy a toy that can be pretty much anything. Come back and show me, and I will mark you down for points. I don’t require a paper on this, so it is fairly easy, but this is to show that you should be comfortable in your sexuality, and walking into a sex store should be easy for you because there’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever because everyone has needs and if someone judges you, then they’re not getting laid.” The class laughs again. “You can return it if you want after I mark you down or you can keep it. A win win for everyone! Okay, class dismissed.”

You walked out of class with a smile on your face as Mr Styles lightened up everyone’s mood as everyone was stressing for finals. You were glad for it; the weight on your shoulders were still heavy, but a good laugh was needed.

You had two weeks to buy and show him the extra credit, and two weeks until you graduated. The days were counting down at this point, and before you knew it, it was the final week.

You had passed both of your finals with flying colors, and you had the rest of the week to finally relax as you were graduating at the end of the week. The apartment was a mess, and you finally had time to tidy it up a bit; fix the mess of papers on your kitchen table and put your laundry away. You also used that time to finally go out and get your extra credit.

It would be a lie if you had told yourself that you were too lazy to go out and actually buy your extra credit assignment, but that was far from the truth. If you had energy to get up and clean around your home, then you could have easily gotten up and buy a sex toy.

But it was the anxious feeling that you had that you were going to see him so up close, and actually get to talk to him again that stopped you.

The crush on your professor hadn’t died done any less, but it hadn’t increased either. You were stuck in a plateau of not getting over him and not falling for him more. You figured it’s because you see him every week, so you were hoping by this time, you were on your way to getting over him.

You made your way into the sex shop with nerves as you haven’t been into one before, and it was a very relaxed set up. Various of sex toys used for both genders were set against the wall, and a red curtain that led to something in the back that, you assumed, was the more extreme items.

You scanned the toys, figuring that it would be easy to just get a vibrator. Your hands shook as you went to grab the boxed toy, and you remembered Mr Styles’ words; there’s no reason to be ashamed in buying any of these, and that relaxed you.

The employee who rang you up was the sweetest. She greeted you with a bubbly smile, and told you that you had made a great choice because she has the same one. You didn’t tell her that it was for a school thing, because that would sound really weird, and you didn’t tell her that you were planning on returning it later on.

You drove to campus, hoping that Mr Styles was in his office. The drive was a 30 minute drive as you lived a bit far from the school, but you didn’t mind the drive.

Harry heard a knock on his office door, telling them to enter. His eyes perked up as you made yourself present as you opened the door. His heart was beating in his chest as he saw you; remembering the last time you were in his office and missing the presence of you being close again.

“Hi. How are you?” He pointed to the chair, and you sat down. Your heart was pounding as well, feeling nervous about being in his office again.

“I’m doing good. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. What can I do for you?” He asks politely. You reach into your bag and grab the box to show him your extra credit assignment. “Ahh,” he lets out as he sees the box. “Perfect. Let me mark you down for that.”

“Thank you,” you say as you put the toy back inside your bag. “Can I ask how I did on the final? If you’ve already finished grading it.”

“Yes. You did really well, actually,” he says as he shuffles through his papers, looking for the grade book. “Ah, here. You got a 95.” That made you smile. You were quite confident for the final, but hearing that you did well brightened up your day. “And that boosted up your grade to a 94, plus the extra credit, that will go up to a 97.”

Your eyes widened; you had passed both classes with an A, and you were extremely excited about that; and it takes everything in you to not jump up and scream. “Wow, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You deserve it. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at you, and your heart swoons, telling him a thank you. “You graduate at the end of the week right?” You nod. “Excited?”

“Very. I really only needed to take this class, but I was putting it off because my friend took this course and said it was pretty sexual, and that made me a bit uncomfortable if I’m being honest. But I really enjoyed this class…you made it bearable.” Harry blushes, thinking how happy he is that you took the class with him.

“Well, I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he says .

There was silence that washed over you two with the slightest bit of tension; debating if either one should bring up what happened the last time you were in his office. You were feeling so many things at the moment, and he was too, but you were sure it was inappropriate to talk about it when technically, nothing even happened.

“I should get going,” you say instead.

“Sure thing. I’ll see you…uh, around,” he says hesitantly. You tell him goodbye and walk out of his office, probably the last time you would ever see him.

You had finally graduated, and you couldn’t be more happy and proud for yourself. A relieved feeling ran through you when you had put on your cap and gown, and the thought made you tear up. You were done, for now, before you had to go to grad school and get your masters degree. But either way, you were ecstatic.

Now a week has gone by since graduation, and you decided to do some errands. You also needed to make your way to the sex shop and return your item.

As you entered the door you had walked through once before, your eyes immediately spotted the familiar man who had made your heart flutter by the simple act of eye contact. And if it was by instincts, Harry turns his head towards the door and sees you standing at the entrance. He hadn’t seen you since the time in his office and he saw you walk for graduation, if that counts.

There was no way of avoiding him, so you walked over to him. “Hi, Mr Styles.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore. You graduated already,” he smirks, and you chuckle.

“Then what should I call you?”

Yours. “Harry.”

You tilt your head to the side, seeing how fitting his name is on him. “Okay, Harry. What are you doing here anyways?” The question had slipped out of your mouth, but you think that there’s nothing awkward with it.

“Oh, uh, just looking for a cock ring,” he says honestly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m actually returning my extra credit purchase,” you chuckle.

“Are ya? Why don't you keep it?”

“I don’t know…I actually never used a toy before, and I got a bit intimidated by it.” Harry nods understandingly.

“See, a win win for everyone. You either get your money back or you get a nice orgasm out of it,” he laughs, and you agree with him.“I think you should keep it. This is the time you get to explore your sexuality.” You debate a bit. He was right, and you did have some spare time as of now, so you decided to keep it; see what this thing can really do.

“If you’d like…would you like to get some lunch with me?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes brighten. “Of course.”

It was like you were waiting for this moment to come. You had waited for him to ask you out and properly get to know each other outside of school. Harry had taken you to a small shop that sold burgers and fries, and you two sat in the patio of the shop; talking, eating, and laughing at stories you told each other.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, nervously. “When I told you I liked you in your office that one time, why didn’t you say anything back?”

“To be honest, I was nervous. You’re 22 and I’m six years older than you, and although that didn’t matter much to me, you were on the edge of graduating. I couldn’t risk that, even with how much I like you. The thought of getting caught and losing your chance to graduate, and possibly your acceptance for your masters, would just be selfish on my part because I couldn’t keep it in my pants… So I waited until you graduated; didn’t even know if I was going to see you again if I’m honest.”

You understood well on why he didn’t do anything to reciprocate his feelings, and you were grateful he didn’t until now.

By the end of it, you didn’t want the day to end so you invited him to your apartment.

You two sat on your couch, which thankfully you cleaned the place before, and talked some more and put on a movie. You two were inching closer to one another until you both were cuddling. You had rested your legs on his as he runs his fingers over your ankles, scratching your skin lightly.

You were breathing heavily, wanting to just make more than just innocent touches. As if Harry read your mind, he turned his head to look at you; a striking look in his eyes as you both look at each other. The air was heavy, sexual tension coming in hot.

“Harry…”

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

Harry wastes no time in connecting his lips with yours. The softness of your lips meeting his is enough to drive him crazy. The pull you have on his hair makes him let out a moan into your mouth as you whimper into his. Chests are pulled close together, but not close enough as the hold on each other is tight; afraid one might let go.

Harry found himself in your bedroom, and it seemed like he blanked out during that time. Your kisses probably just pulled him into another world, where he debated if this was real life or if he was dreaming it. It was all real, but it was lovely to dream about.

You sat on the bed as you continued to kiss while Harry was standing above you; him leaning down and you reaching up. You were close to his hard on, and it took everything in him not to drop his pants and have you taste him, but it wasn’t going to be about him.

This is going to be about you.

You’d managed to get both of your shirts off, wanting yourself bare and to see his chest. You were surprised with the amount of tattoos that littered his skin. It was beautiful and raw, and him. You went to press a kiss to the butterfly on his stomach; the only one you can reach, and trailing down to the vines on his hips. Harry throws his head back, loving the feeling of your lips on his. You reach for his pants and before you can fully unbutton, he stops you.

“No, no. Tonight’s about you, baby,” he says as his face is close to yours and he kisses the tip of your nose. You nod slightly, feeling yourself blush; and he pushes your shoulder back so you’re fully laying down on your bed. “You want this, right?” Your head nods quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. “Need words, love.”

“Yes. I want this so bad.” The words come out quickly, eagerly. Harry smirks at your response, and kisses down your stomach towards the hem of your pants.

He fully removes your bottoms, only leaving your panties, and Harry thinks that you’re just a sight. “God, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he says smiling. His words made you blush, shying away from him by turning your head. “Nuh uh, don’t get shy on me now, my love. It’s just me. You’re comfortable with me, right?”

“Of course,” you respond, remembering that he prefers words rather than gestures.

“I’m glad.”

He continues kissing along the hem of your panties, teasing you slightly by dragging his tongue along your skin. The feeling makes you whimper and buck your hips slightly; wanting more than his kisses.

The fast motion of your panties swiftly being removed catches you off guard as you look down and see Harry looking at your bare pussy with hungry eyes. “Look at you. Fuck.” It takes everything in him to not devour you right then and there, but he wanted this moment to last and for you to enjoy yourself. He has been waiting for this moment the first time you walked into his office, and he couldn’t wait to get a taste of you.

“Harry…” you whimper.

“Yes?”

“Please just lick me already.”

Harry kneels on the floor, kissing your inner thighs before taking one long lick up your pussy. The feeling of his tongue makes you moan out loud from the built up tension that you’ve been filled up with since the beginning of the semester.

“Fuck, so good,” he says, going in for another lick, but doesn’t stop this time. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it as well as giving it kitten licks. Your hands fall to his hair as you tug, and your face falls to the side as you try and drown your moans against the mattress.

You continue moaning, but they’re muffled and Harry looks up at you. “No, none of that. Don’t hide away your moans. Wanna hear ya, baby. Let me know I’m licking you up just right--just how you like it,” he says and gets back to eating you out. You give him an ‘okay’ before wailing out in pleasure.

The thought had surprised you as you’ve never been with anyone who made sure you were feeling good and alright. And you absolutely loved it.

Harry’s fingers enter you, pumping and curling and finding your g spot. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Who got you this wet?” He teases.

“You.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You, Mr Styles.” Although you have been calling that more than you called him Harry, his name coming out of your mouth as you’re a moaning mess makes his cock even harder. He stares at you above him with dark eyes and nibbles on the skin of your inner thighs.

“You say you wanna explore? That no one has ever taken the time to make you feel good? Is that right, baby?” He says as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

“Mhm. No one has ever fucked me good enough for me to stay,” you say in an innocent and teasing tone, knowing that Harry will be the exact person that will do that for you.

“How about we have a little fun? With a certain vibrator of yours that you decided not to return? Do ya want that?”

“God, yes please.” Harry kisses your stomach, up to your chest, and then your lips before his fingers slip out and he walks over to unbox the new vibrator. It was a vibrator that you were able to put inside you as it stimulated your clit, and Harry has been dying to use one on you the second you showed it to him for extra credit. You heard the toy turn on as Harry played with the settings.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Harry sets the vibrations to the lowest setting as he starts to tease your clit with it; slowly circling around it as you moan out from the new sensation. “Does that feel good? Do you want more?”

“Please. Give me more,” you say as you palm him over his underwear, but he pushes you away. “Baby, you’re hard. Let me touch you, please,” you plead.

“This is all about you, so be a good girl and just enjoy this,” he says and you close your eyes, waiting for what’s to come. Harry sets the setting a bit higher. The setting is on a medium level, more stimulations to your clit as Harry moves the toy around. “Holy shit, that feels so good,” you throw your head back onto the bed.

“Yeah? Good thing I told you to keep it. You can use this when I’m not here to fuck you, unless I tell you not to touch yourself and have you wait until I stuff myself in your tight pussy.” The dirty talk is driving you wild along with the vibrator. “Gonna put it higher,” he says and doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“Oh my...fuck!” The setting is at its highest along with the part of the toy that is inside you; Harry moving the toy around a bit so it can thrust inside of you. You’re completely thrashing around on the sheets, and Harry has to physically spread your legs apart as you keep trying to close them.

Harry lays beside you, kissing your chest and taking your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Your hand naturally finds his hair and pulls on it as you bring his face to yours, and he gives you a solid kiss. You hold him against you as there were no movements of your lips with his; just the touch of your lips together as you try to control your moans.

As you two part, you scream out, “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“C’mon, let go for me, baby. Cum for me,” Harry encourages you.

After a few more thrusts and vibrations to your clit, your orgasm washes over you and hits you hard. Your back arched, and you turned, still feeling the stimulation from the toy.

“There ya go. That’s it,” Harry says as he slowly pulls the toy out and replacing it with his hand, gently cupping over you and feeling your wetness as you come down from your high. Your moans have been controlled, and you started whimpering from how powerful your peak was. “You’re okay. Shh. You’re okay, baby.”

You buried your face into Harry’s neck, and he scratches your back, calming you down. After a moment, you lift your head up and lazily smile at Harry, causing him to giggle a bit and kiss you. The kiss didn’t last long nor was it deepened; it was a sweet and loving kiss, and a thank you to him.

“Was that okay?” He asks.

“That was fucking amazing. Never came like that before,” you tell him honestly.

“Well, I’m glad,” he kisses your lips briefly as he couldn’t get enough of them.

“So…” you trail off.

“So…” he repeats.

“Do I get my extra credit?” You ask in a playful manner, and he laughs loud making your heart flutter over the beautiful sound of his laugh.

“Oh, baby. You get more than extra credit.”

feedback here <3

MASTERLIST

2K notes · View notes

iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

hey alle, so for the prompts i'd love some cute and funny winteriron with bucky wanting to impress tony with his cooking, but tony being a very picky eater. which leads to a lot of frustration on bucky's side, and obliviousness on what is even going on from tony's. if you feel like it. thank you! <3

Here it is! The long-awaited His Girl FRIDAY remix! I hope you love this as much as I do!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

The first time Bucky left food in Tony’s workshop and come back to find it untouched, he’d figured it was a fluke. Tony had probably been caught up in a zone—like Steve had warned him about when Bucky had decided he was going to woo Tony with food—and hadn’t noticed the food was even there.

The second time, he made sure to catch Tony’s attention as he was dropping off the plate—lasagna because Natalia had said Tony’s mother was Italian and Bucky made a pretty decent lasagna if he did say so. Tony had glanced at him and then at the plate before turning away with a slightly bewildered frown. Bucky had taken the frown to mean that no one else had ever bothered before to take care of Tony, which was a fact that had just about broken his heart, and left the plate there. He’d gone back later that night to find the lasagna untouched. That had been a little harder to explain away, but he’d eventually decided that maybe Tony was one of those food snobs who only liked Italian food made by actual Italians.

The third time he made oatmeal with a little bit of honey and cream, perfect for someone with as much of a sweet tooth as Tony had, and brought it into the workshop for Tony, who had spent the entire night working on new arrows for Clint.

“Tony?” he called softly, not wanting to startle him. Tony was uncomfortable enough with all the new people moving into the tower after everything with SHIELD and Hydra; being Hydra’s pet assassin, he didn’t want to make it worse by sneaking up on him. “I brought you some breakfast.”

Tony popped up from underneath a table, visibly brightening. “Oh good,” he said cheerfully, making grabby hands at the bowl. “I was just starting to get hungry.” His hair was mussed, two perfect rings of black smeared around his eyes, likely where the goggles currently perched on top of his head had been resting earlier.

Bucky smiled at the adorable display and held out the bowl. Tony eagerly grabbed it, only to blink at it as soon as he saw what was in it.

“Oatmeal?” he asked delicately.

“I thought you’d appreciate having something a little more delicate after not eating for a while,” Bucky explained.

“…Oh.” After another awkward moment, Tony said carefully, “Thanks.”

Satisfied, Bucky left him to his work. This time—this time—Tony would eat it all and then he’d see what an amazing cook Bucky was and how he would absolutely be able to provide for Tony and then he’d swoon into Bucky’s arms and demand that Bucky take him right there.

Okay maybe not right there—the workshop didn’t seem like the best location for amorous activities—but that was why they called it a fantasy, right?

Too bad Tony punctured that fantasy like a balloon.

Bucky went back downstairs long to pick up the bowl after Tony had come up to the common areas, yawning widely and telling everyone he was heading to bed for the next twenty-four hours so don’t bother him unless New York was on fire. It had been a bit of a disappointment that he’d just nodded at Bucky without saying anything about the breakfast or about his everlasting feelings for him, but not nearly as much of a disappointment to walk into the workshop to find the bowl as untouched as all the other meals he’d so painstakingly prepared.

“I don’t get it,” he whined to Sam later that day. “I’m a good cook.”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you sure? It’s been, what, seventy years since the last time you made anything. Maybe you’re not as good as you used to be.”

Bucky gasped dramatically. “You take that back!”

“No. You promised me you’d offer dating advice with Natasha and instead you’re sitting here mooning over Tony’s ass again so I’ll say whatever I like about your cooking.”

“Sorry,” he muttered guiltily. Sam was right. He had promised that. Or, rather, Steve had promised advice and Bucky had taken one look at him still pining over Peggy and feeling weird about his current interest being Peggy’s niece (a valid way to feel) and declared him hopeless before telling Sam that he would help him out instead. After all, he remembered Natalia from the years she’d spent training with him during her childhood. Who else would be more qualified to teach Sam how to woo her? Well, besides Clint obviously, but he was taking some personal time away from the team.

“She likes the ballet,” he said. “She wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger, said they were as graceful as any Widow only they didn’t have to kill.”

“And you’re sure that won’t just make her sad?” Sam asked dubiously.

Bucky glared at him. “I might not like you very much—” Sam rolled his eyes—"But I like Natalia a whole lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Take her to the ballet and take Steve and Sharon while you’re at it. A double date will help her feel less trapped and maybe Steve will stop moping and ask Sharon out.”

“It’s a little weird, you know.”

“Sure, but he kissed Peggy once and it’s not like he’s ever gonna go back to the war and live out the rest of his time there, so he might as well move on.”

Sam laughed. “Guess that’s true.” He sighed, smile fading away. “I don’t know why Tony’s ignoring your meals. Sorry about that though. It sucks.”

“If I may,” JARVIS cut in. Both of them jumped, though Bucky would deny to his dying day that he yelped. Sam, on the other hand, shrieked like a kid and Bucky reminded himself to go back and access the audio footage so he would have blackmail.

“Sorry, JARVIS,” he apologized. “Keep forgetting you’re up there. Didn’t exactly have AI back during the war.”

“Or even in other houses,” Sam added.

“My apologies,” JARVIS said, and he’ll be damned if JARVIS didn’t sound extremely apologetic. It was incredible, really, how much life Tony imbued in his creations. “I only wanted to offer my advice about Sergeant Barnes’ attempts at wooing Sir.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked. “Go right ahead. Can’t be any worse than any of the other advice I’ve gotten.” Seriously, Clint had even suggested truth serum, like that wasn’t the worst idea ever suggested.

“Sir is an extremely picky eater,” JARVIS explained. “He does not enjoy cooked tomatoes, ricotta cheese, or the texture of oatmeal.”

…All of which had been in at least one of the meals he’d prepared for Tony.

“Fuck.”

JARVIS wryly said, “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“You requested that I remain inactive on your floor while you were recovering. But you’re in Sergeant Wilson’s quarters at the moment so I may share my expertise.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? It had been in the early days when he was still having trouble remembering what he’d said moments earlier, but he had a vague recollection of being overwhelmed by the idea of constant monitoring and asking if JARVIS could be turned off.

“Wow, way to go, Barnes,” Sam commented, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Fuck,” he said again, more emphatically. “Best tool at my disposal and I’m not even using it. JARVIS, I bet you could tell me all sorts of things about Tony.”

He got the impression that if the AI could sniff, he would have. “I would not dare to air Sir’s ‘dirty laundry’ so to speak.”

“No, no,” Bucky said, waving his metal hand. The hand made a concerning grinding sound and he frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d probably need to ask someone to take a look at it. Sam was capable of performing basic maintenance, and Bucky trusted him not to sabotage the arm, but anything worse and he’d have to go ask Tony about it.

“Not what I meant,” he continued. “Just that you could tell me what Tony likes and doesn’t like. Uh, how do I turn you back on in my floor?”

“Your request is sufficient,” JARVIS said.

“Great. I’ll meet you up there in a bit. We’re gonna make something so incredible Tony will have to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam said, kicking his feet up onto the newly vacated spot on the couch now that Bucky was standing. “I’m going to see if I can find reasonably priced tickets to the ballet.”

Bucky blinked. “I think you’re gonna have worse luck than me.”

Sam threw a shoe at him.

On JARVIS’ advice, he baked blueberry muffins because those were apparently Tony’s favorite fruit. Bucky didn’t really understand it. Frankly, he thought blueberries were almost as bad as bananas—nasty, taste-changing fruit that they were—but if Tony loved them, then he would be willing to have them in his kitchen for as long as it took to bake the muffins. Fortunately, he was just as good a baker as he was a cook, so it was a breeze to whip up a delicious batch that had him grateful he couldn’t get salmonella from the mix.

Unfortunately, Tony hated the muffins. Or that’s what Bucky gathered when he went to pick the plate up, hoping that it would be empty for the first time, and found it just as untouched as everything else had been.

“What the fuck, JARVIS?” he complained. “You said he liked blueberries.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS said, sounding as baffled as Bucky felt. “Sir has always appreciated them.”

That, Bucky reflected later that night, was possibly to be expected. For all that JARVIS had the inhuman ability to remember literally everything he’d ever seen or heard, he was still just a program. He couldn’t necessarily extrapolate about preferences or tastes. For all either of them knew, Tony did like blueberries but didn’t like muffins or something. It didn’t really explain why JARVIS knew that Tony didn’t like cooked tomatoes, but maybe that could be explained by Tony mentioning it out loud and the other stuff, JARVIS had had to figure out on his own.

He sat up in bed, thinking about it. Maybe that was it: Tony didn’t like muffins. But there had to be other recipes out there that used blueberries that Tony would like. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d come across a blueberry cupcake with brown butter frosting recipe earlier that day. And Bucky didn’t know anyone who could say no to his brown butter. He was incredible at it, and that was being modest. Just the other day, Thor had declared the brown butter sauce he’d made for their chicken to be worthy of an Asgardian feast. Thor was a god. He probably knew things like that.

“JARVIS, you up?” he asked into the dark room.

“Always, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You don’t gotta keep callin’ me that. Bucky’s my name. I’d rather answer to that.”

“Very well, Bucky.”

“Could you pull up some other recipes with blueberries in the flavor profile please? Filter out anything that has something Tony doesn’t like and recipes similar enough to each other that they could be repeats, uh, let’s say anything with a higher than 85% similarity.”

When JARVIS was finished compiling his list, there was a lot less than what Bucky had hoped for, but it was still something he could work with. He looked through the list: cupcakes, pancakes, cookies, more than a few salads, something called a Panzanella. He starred the ones he thought would catch Tony’s interest the most, putting the others aside to possibly try later down the road. Content with his plan, he laid back down, falling asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

None of it worked. Despite his supposed love for blueberries, Tony continued to turn away everything Bucky made for him. So he branched out, trying other foods that JARVIS said Tony was fond of. Nothing came back with more than a couple bites taken out of it and Tony had taken to giving him worried looks every time he appeared at the workshop door with another plate. Bucky was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to woo Tony with food and that was… not great.

Traditional dates were pretty close to impossible. Despite his rapid recovery in the tower, going outside was still too frightening with the crowds of New York, the inability to pick out threats around him, and the lack of sightlines all driving Bucky back inside and to the highest floors of the tower where he could look out over everything.

And as for anything else, well, Bucky was an ex-brainwashed assassin with no money to his name and only half the social skills he used to have (Sam said he had more than he thought but arguing with Sam wasn’t like trying to get someone to like him). He didn’t have much else to offer other than making food and giving Tony a project to work on. The first wasn’t going well and the second made Bucky feel too much like he was taking advantage of Tony to use more than once or twice.

Disheartened, he made his way up to Natalia’s floor to ask her for advice. She and Tony got along almost as well as she got along with Clint. Maybe she would have insights that JARVIS wasn’t able to offer. As he neared her room, though, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

“—to kill me,” someone—Tony, Bucky realized almost immediately—was saying. He stiffened. Who was trying to kill Tony? Bucky would kill them first! Was murder a good way to woo Tony?

“котенок,” Natalia said patiently, “he’s not trying to kill you.”

“You don’t know that!” Tony exclaimed wildly. He sounded like he was pacing. “He could be! He keeps bringing me things everyone knows I won’t eat.”

And now Natalia sounded amused as she said, “Antoshka, I don’t think he’d be trying to feed you if he wanted to kill you. It’s more likely an honest mistake.”

“It could be poison.”

“It’s not poison.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t tried any of it.”

“It’s not poison because that’s more my style than it is James’.”

Oh, they were talking about him. Tony thought Bucky was trying to kill him. “Fuck,” he said mournfully, leaning up against the wall. No wonder Tony wouldn’t touch any of the food he made for him.

“Well, I don’t see why else he’s bringing me food!” Tony said.

“Really? Not a single reason?”

“It’s food I won’t eat! He clearly doesn’t like me or he’d be bringing me actual food I like.”

“Does he know why you won’t eat it?”

“No, but why does that matter?”

“Tony, darling, have you ever once informed him that you have a sensory processing disorder and you won’t eat a lot of cooked foods because you can’t handle the texture?”

Bucky straightened back up. Tony has a what? He’d never even heard of that before. Why didn’t JARVIS say something? He thought back to when he’d been building the list of blueberry foods and how he’d wondered if JARVIS didn’t necessarily know about the pattern for Tony’s likes and dislikes in his food. Maybe JARVIS hadn’t known about Tony’s disorder, so he hadn’t known to tell Bucky about it. That made the most amount of sense to him though he couldn’t imagine why Tony had never told his AI about his disorder.

“Why would I tell him that?” Tony asks, sounding confused.

He could just picture Natalia shaking her head as she said, “Oh, Antoshka.”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Armed with his new knowledge, Bucky crept away from the door, already planning out new meals to bring to Tony.

That very night, he went downstairs with a bowl of salad. It had nuts to provide a small amount of protein, though he’d also put some baked chicken in a Tupperware as well, in case that was something Tony could eat. Tony’s music was playing at a manageable volume by the time he got to the workshop, likely because he was drafting plans for some sort of irrigation system, rather than any sort of consideration for Bucky.

Tony caught sight of him before he got the doors open. Bucky watched as his face fell for a moment before he plastered on a bright, fake smile. Hydra’s programming was still too ingrained in him to do anything as obvious as wince, but he still felt a twinge of shame. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Tony what he would like to eat instead of relying on his own preferences?

“Uh,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. In his other hand, he held up the Tupperware with the salad bowl on top of it. “I brought you some dinner. It’s just a salad, but I included some baked chicken on the side if you want that. I hope it’s something you like.”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“I—okay, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I overheard you and Natalia earlier. I didn’t know you couldn’t eat anything I was making for you. I wasn’t trying to poison you or anything, just thought you might like some food since you’re down here all the time. Sorry for, you know, eavesdropping and making you think I didn’t like you.”

A cautious smile spread across Tony’s face. “You could have asked JARVIS,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I did, but I guess he didn’t know you don’t like cooked foods.”

“What?” Tony cocked his head to the side. “No, he should know that.” He spun around in his chair, waving the glowing blue drafts of the irrigation system aside in favor of pulling up JARVIS’ bright golden code. It was a beautiful display, and Bucky found himself moving closer, mesmerized by the sight. He had no idea JARVIS’ code was so complex.

“J, buddy, what happened to your code?” Tony murmured. He reached out a hand, groping for Bucky’s shirt to tug him closer. “Gimme food.”

“So you like salad?” Bucky asked, relieved that he’d finally found something.

“And baked chicken,” Tony added. “But it has to be baked. Otherwise, the texture’s too rubbery for me.”

“I can do that,” he promised. “Do you like breading or marinade with the baked chicken?”

“Marinade, yes. Breading, no.”

“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

Tony paused in tearing through JARVIS’ code to give him a small, genuine smile that made Bucky’s heart light up. He returned the smile, which grew bigger when Tony’s gaze darted down to his lips, snagging there as though caught by the sight. He knew he had a nice mouth; he’d been told that plenty of times back in the forties.

“I have another confession to make,” he said once Tony’s attention returned to the code.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said distractedly.

“I was—”

“There you are!” Tony exclaimed. “J, who made those changes to lines 894 through 1036 in your code?”

JARVIS immediately said, “The last time those lines were accessed was in 2008 by Obadiah Stane.”

Tony’s face fell. “Oh.”

It took Bucky a moment remember who Obadiah Stane was. He’d appeared in one of Bucky’s mission files as the Winter Soldier. Back during the nineties, following Tony’s parents deaths, Tony had been planning on shutting down SI’s weapons manufacturing division. Hydra, who’d been buying black market weapons from Stane for years by that time, had ordered the Winter Soldier to assassinate Tony to give Stane complete control of the company. But before he’d been able to complete his mission, Stane had convinced Tony to see “reason” and Bucky had been put back in cryo. That unfulfilled mission had been one of the reasons he’d been so hesitant to move into the tower before his programming had been completely removed. Steve had tried to push for the move anyway, but before either of them could successfully argue the point, Tony had put out a call to the world’s top experts on brainwashing and three whirlwind weeks later, Bucky’s mind was programming-free. And just like that, without even meeting the guy, Bucky had developed a crush on one Tony Stark.

“Sorry, doll,” he said, dropping a hand to Tony’s shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Tony sighed frustratedly. “Every time I think I’ve taken care of everything Obie fucked up, I find something else he’s done. He was probably hoping I’d starve to death or something without anyone making food to my exacting specifications, that asshole.”

“He sounds pretty terrible,” Bucky agreed.

“J, are you able to access the last backup on those lines to restore them?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, let’s get those fixed, and uh—”

“And we’ll go out for dinner,” Bucky interrupted.

“Huh?” Tony asked, turning to look at him.

“Seems I owe you an apology and I figure taking you out for dinner is a little nicer than a salad. ‘Sides, if I take you out, I’ll have a better understanding of what you like to eat.”

“Careful there, Buckaroo, or I’ll start thinking this is supposed to be a date.”

Bucky would probably never know what possessed him to firmly say, “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to be.” He certainly hadn’t planned to. He really had been planning on their dinner being a way to figure out what Tony liked so he could make it himself and continue with his wooing process from there, hopefully slowly easing Tony into believing that Bucky really did like him and wasn’t trying to poison him.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

Tony stared at him, then abruptly said, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That this is supposed to be a date.”

He could deny it and go back to his original plan. He’d probably even be able to pull off a lie like that. But there was a hopeful look in Tony’s eyes that stopped him from denying anything.

“You didn’t even know that I liked you until five minutes ago,” he pointed out cautiously.

Tony scoffed. “What, like you’ve never liked someone who hated you.”

“Uh, no. I’ve never done that.”

“Really?”

“Never.”

“Huh.”

“Are you… are you saying that you do like me?” Bucky asked.

“Well, yeah. You never mind that half of my engineering babble goes over your head and you bring me food even if you didn’t know it wasn’t something I could eat and you’re really fucking gorgeous when you’ve showered and your hair isn’t falling in greasy clumps around your face.”

“Look who’s talking,” Bucky said amusedly, reaching out to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, matted down with machine oil. Even filthy, he could feel how soft it would be when it was clean. Tony leaned into his hand, humming happily.

“So is that a yes on this being a date, Bucky babe?” Tony asked. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not usually left hanging.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding. “It’s a date.”

Tony grinned and turned his head just enough to kiss the inside of Bucky’s wrist, making Bucky shiver. “Let me get cleaned up.”

“You want me to join you?”

Tony winked at him. “Next time, honey.”

#winteriron #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please reblog

134 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

First Impressions

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by @eversonaive : Could do a fic on the reader meeting Juice when he has the sign stuck to his chest only to find out later he is the club's intelligence officer lol

Part 2 can be found Here

Warnings: language, Juice being an embarrassed lil cutie

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I loved writing this. Flustered Juice gives me life lmao. I hope it’s what you had in mind! I peppered in a couple other of our SAMCRO boys because why not?

Join my group-chat here: (X)

SOA Taglist: @adela-topaz-caelon @garbinge @i-just-read-stuff @multiyfandomgirl40 @masterlistforimagines @mijop @chibsytelford @xladymacbethx @kkim120 @toni9 @everyhowlmarksthedead @unicornucopia-fuckers @mayans-sauce @shadow-of-wonder (If you want to be tagged in any of my writing please let me know! xo)

You couldn’t pretend that you weren’t surprised, and a little off-put by the scene in front of you. You looked around, wondering why you felt like you were the only one who saw what you were seeing. Everyone else was walking by, minding their own business, but you couldn’t pretend that you didn’t notice.

Crouching down, you pressed your fingers gently against the side of his neck, and you were rewarded with a fairly steady pulse. Relief flooded through you, glad you weren’t going to have to report a dead body. However, you weren’t quite sure how to handle the scene in front of you.

Gently nudging him, you tried to wake him up. He let out a soft groan but didn’t fully wake up. With a heavy sigh, you shook him a little harder but weren’t able to wake him. Pressing your lips together into a thin line, you patted the side of his face. You saw his brows furrow and twitch and you knew that he was almost awake.

“Hey,” you shook him and patted his cheek again, “you good?”

With a groan and what seemed like more effort than it should’ve taken, he slowly started to open his eyes. Part of you wanted to laugh because he seemed like he was probably going to be alright, but more than anything you were just confused.

“You alright? Looks like you’ve had…a time.”

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at the state of himself. The fact that he didn’t seem shocked and appalled spoke volumes. With a quiet grunt, he forced himself to his feet.

“Do I have to be worried about you?” you couldn’t help but to look him up and down again. With a chuckle and a shake of his head he reassured you that he was fine, which did little to actually make you feel better, “There somewhere I should be take you?”

He laughed, “No. Don’t worry. Thank you for, uh, waking me up. Way better than getting kicked by the cops,” he shook his head.

“Small miracles,” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he glanced down at the sign on his chest and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was weighing the pros and cons of ripping it off right then and there, “I should go. I’m uh,” he gestured to the cardboard, “apparently late for my eight o’clock feeding.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Well that’s unfortunate.”

With a deep breath he pulled the sign from his chest and you both cringed. He cursed under his breath from the pain of it before folding it and tucking it underneath his arm. He gave you a lopsided grin and a small wave before turning and walking in the other direction away from you. You stood there, feeling like you should be offering him a shirt, or something to at least tie around his waist, but he seemed pretty unbothered by it all, so you let him go. You shook your head to yourself as you continued on your way, unable to believe what a weird day you’d already had.

A few days went by and you hadn’t forgotten about your run-in on the street that morning. It was a tough scene to forget. You didn’t want to believe that that was going to be the first and last time you ever saw him. If nothing else, you just wanted some closure on the situation, and you also wanted to know how the hell he ended up like that.

Your mind had wandered back to that situation as you stood outside your car waiting for the tow truck. You knew that your car was on its last leg to begin with, and that you should’ve set about looking for a new one some time ago, but you just kept putting it off. The thought of shopping for one, and then paying for one was overwhelming. You were paying for it in an entirely different way now, though. You knew that fixing whatever was wrong with your car was probably going to cost more than it was worth. So, to distract yourself from thinking about that, you thought about literally anything else as you sat half propped up onto your hood.

You’d gone to Teller-Morrow one other time, maybe twice, since you’d moved just outside of Charming. You didn’t remember anything about it, though—you were in and out quick for an oil change or something equally innocuous. There weren’t a whole lot of options for mechanics to begin with, let alone ones that would also tow. Plus you figured since they were local, it wouldn’t take them too long to get to you.

About twenty minutes later the tow-truck pulled up, and you were a mix of relieved and apprehensive. Two men stepped out, and your first thought was that they couldn’t have carried themselves more differently from each other if they tried. The taller one approached you, adjusting his beanie slightly as he did, while the other scampered around to start hooking the truck up to your car.

“So,” he walked up to you, a small smile on his face for a moment as he looked at you, “what seems to be the problem?”

You chuckled and shook your head as you clocked the name stitched into his work shirt, “Well, it stopped running. That’s about all I know, Opie,” you smiled at him.

He laughed, nodding his head slightly, “Sounds like a pretty serious issue, then.”

“I’d say so.”

He glanced back to make sure that your car had been hooked up alright, “You need to be dropped off somewhere, or you got a ride?”

You sighed, resting your hand on the back of your neck as you thought, “Would I be able to ride back to the shop with you guys?”

He nodded, “Sure thing. Long as you don’t mind Kip staring at you the whole time,” he gestured over to the man who was waiting by the door of the tow truck.

You laughed, “Staring I can handle.”

When they pulled into the lot at the mechanics, Opie got out and instructed Kip to take care of the rest. He looked over to you and gestured to the office, “Gemma will get you all set up. We’ll get it right on the lift and try to figure out what’s going on.”

You nodded, “Thank you, appreciate it.”

You knocked lightly on the door to the office and she called for you to come in. She got you all squared away with your paperwork to get everything started. You let her know that if it ended up being more than a certain amount to just not bother and scrap it, or to give it back and you would take care of that part yourself. You weren’t in a position to be paying more than the car was worth. There was sympathy present in her eyes as she listened to you, nodding along. You hated the feeling of pity but you couldn’t deny that you’d landed yourself into a bit of a hole.

She was walking you back out of the office, “We’ll give you a call when we’ve got some numbers for you, sweetheart.”

“Sounds good. Thank you guys so much.”

“Need us to call you a cab?”

You shook your head, “No, no I’ll be alright. Thank you though.”

You were walking across the lot, pulling out your phone as you did to try and figure out who you were going to call to come and pick you up. There was a sudden influx of noise and voices. And despite the fact that you heard it, you still didn’t look up.

The only thing that snapped you out of your thoughts was the feeling of someone’s shoulder bumping into yours. You looked up and both of you were in the middle of apologizing when your eyes met his. Neither of you could hide the shock on your faces as you took each other in.

He looked a lot different when he wasn’t coming out of a mild coma. And also when he was fully dressed with an MC kutte on. You’d missed out on the fact that he was handsome in the midst of worrying about his well-being the last time you saw him.

“Oh shit,” he laughed, “hey.”

“Uh, hey,” you couldn’t help but to stare at him, “I didn’t…expect to see you here. Or again in general, for that matter.”

Another man in a kutte appeared, draping his arm around the shoulder of the man that you were talking to, “Juicy,” he said, “who’s your friend?”

He wore his nerves on his face, “Um. She’s not, uh, she’s—”

You cut him off to save him the trouble, holding out your hand, “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he let your name roll off his tongue, “nice to meet you. I’m Jax,” he paused, looking back and forth between you and the man next to him, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, “Sorry to interrupt,” you could see that he was biting back a laugh.

“No, you’re…you’re good,” you reassured him, “Nothing to interrupt. Just, um, a little surprised by,” you gestured to the two of them and to the clubhouse behind them, “all of this.”

“Well then I gotta ask,” Jax continued to stare at Juice who seemed to be getting more and more shy by the second, “how do you know Charming’s favorite Puerto Rican Intelligence Officer?”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped past your lips, “Intelligence Officer?”

Jax nodded, clapping Juice on the back as though he thought he was hyping him up, “For the club, yea. Can find out anything about anyone. Also our resident tech guy.”

You chuckled, unable to lie and say that you weren’t a little impressed, “Impressive. Guess we didn’t have time to get into all that last time we met.”

“Oh?” Jax looked back and forth between the two of you, embarrassment creeping onto Juice’s features.

“Yea, he was running a behind schedule. Had places to be.”

Jax looked over at him, “Where the hell did you have to be that could’ve been more important, bro?”

Juice ran his hands down his face, knowing that he was going to have to cop to it sooner or later, “When we met I was, um…she actually…” he shook his head, “She’s the one who woke me up the other day. Made sure I was alright.”

The entire incident had clearly already faded from Jax’s memory because he looked as lost as he had been before Juice said anything. You smiled, “I made sure he eventually made it to his eight o’clock feeding.”

Recognition flashed across Jax’s face and he laughed, “Jesus. Sorry you had to be a part of that.”

“Sure, her you’ll apologize to,” Juice rolled his eyes.

“She didn’t deserve it,” Jax chuckled and shook his head, “Well it was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’ll leave Juice to try and clean up whatever mess he might’ve made.”

He walked away from the both of you and you could head him laughing to himself as he approached the rest of the guys. You and Juice stood there facing each other, neither one of you really knowing what to say.

You broke the silence, “Won’t lie to you, Juice,” it felt nice to finally be able to address him as something, “over the past few days when I’ve been trying to think about what your life was like for it to land you in that situation, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“You’ve been thinkin’ about me?” he smirked.

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “You made quite the impression,” you looked him in the eyes, “I’m glad you’re alright though.”

He chuckled, “Not the worst thing they’ve ever done to me.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Well that’s a little concerning.”

“Sorry you got, uh, subjected to that,” he shook his head, “wrong place, wrong time.”

You waited for him to meet your gaze and you flashed him a smile, “I wouldn’t quite say that.”

There was a light in his eyes that was so enticing, “Right. Well. I’m glad I got a chance to make a better first impression. Sort of. Maybe,” he laughed. There were a few beats of silence before he spoke up again, “What brings you here anyway?”

You nodded towards the garage, “Car broke down.”

“Shit.”

Your laugh was a hollow, “Yea. Fucking sucks. Hoping they can fix it without bleeding me dry.”

Juice thought hard about it for a few moments, “I’ll take a look at it. I’ll see what I can do, see if I can get you a deal or something.”

“Yea?” you couldn’t hide your relief.

He nodded, “Yea. Least I could do.”

“You’d really be saving my ass.”

He laughed, “Guess that would make us even.”

You chuckled and nodded, “Guess so.”

He paused for a moment, eyes glued to the pavement, “If you want, you could, uh, you could give me your number,” he looked up at you, “and I’ll give you a call when I get it all sorted.”

You smiled, “Alright. Sounds good,” you held out your hand for his phone and quickly added your number to his contacts, “Hope to hear from you soon, Juice.”

“Juan,” he said quietly as he took the phone back from you.

“Hm?”

He looked at you, “Juan. My name is Juan.”

You smiled, “Well, then, Juan, I’ll talk to you soon,” you paused and bit back a laugh, “Try to keep yourself out of sticky situations, alright?”

“Well now at least I have you to call just in case,” he smirked.

“Won’t be able to come and get you until you fix my car,” you chuckled, “So at least be careful for a few days.”

“I think I can do that.”

“Good,” you stepped in and gave him a quick hug, “Thank you, Juan, seriously.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” you flashed him a smile before turning and continuing your way out of the parking lot.

You chanced a look back over your shoulder and saw that he was still standing there staring at you with a smile and a dreamy look on his face. You laughed and shook your head as you turned back around. There was something to be said about memorable first impressions, and something told you that you had landed yourself in an adventure when you met him. You were excited to find out what was in store.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

215 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 4 years

Text

Fine

Prelude - I had some more classes start today, so I will probably not have time for hardly anything. We’ll see. But please be patient with me, I appreciate y’all

Pairing - Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Prompt - @lbrownsugarbbyl mentioned in a comment that their birthday was a few days ago. Hope this suffices, I'm sorry I’m really bad at writing stuff for people lasjhlfhals

Warnings - NSFW, dub con, Pseudo-incest, pussyjobs,

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5XeFesFbtLpXzIVDNQP22n?si=kLjNx2bbTiWzW37DHZuB8Q

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’ll be fine.

Everything’s fine.

That’s what Izuku tells himself everyday when he heads up to your room five nights out of the week, fresh from college. He knows your schedule, you get home half an hour before he does on Wednesdays and Thursdays, a full hour on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday.

That gives you enough time to shower, brush out your hair, change into something comfy. Izuku always finds himself wishing he could give you one of his shirts, one of the large ones that would reach down to your thighs. He wishes he could see you wearing that, nothing else.

But Izuku understands that there are limits. Limits to what he does to you, limits to what he can ask of you.

You always find a way to push his limits, make his resolve crumble away into dust, thick dust that chokes him as he drowns in his sins.

Izuku spends almost all of his time in your room now, waiting for bedtime, waiting for when he can climb into your bed, lay down beside you, be close to you.

He knows he’s needy, maybe more so than what’s normal. But he likes listening to you talk to your friends on the phone with him draped over your back, likes sitting against your feet doing his homework while you do yours. Izuku likes being around you, needs your presence and your company to feel stable, to feel okay.

Things are different now, different because of you. He always used to be so anxious and nervous, easy to push around and bully. But then his mom had met your dad, and he had met you.

You had been such… you had been a life saver, literally. You were the one that had come up to the school roof while Izuku was contemplating following Bakugou’s advice to take a swan dive. You had his bento box in hand, presumably looking for your new step-brother to tell him he forgot his lunch. Izuku had burst out crying the second you opened your mouth, dropping to his knees and scrubbing at his eyes. It was embarrassing, humiliating, his head hurt and so did his heart. Everything was bad, bad bad bad, but then there was you.

Kneeling down beside him, using your sleeve to wipe at the snot and tears smeared all over his face. Pulling him into a deep hug, cradling his head against your chest, asking him to breathe with you, deep breaths, slow breaths.

You never asked what he was doing up there - it was pretty obvious - even to someone new to the school - how badly Izuku was bullied.

But you, oh, his beautiful step-sister, you never treated him like that.

You were kind, soft smiles and soft hands as you walked with him between classes. He forgot about the mean words and vicious jabs thrown his way when he was with you, instead focused on the way your lips moved as you talked, the soft, girlish tone of your voice. You were an angel in his eyes, both figuratively and literally.

All throughout high school, izuku stuck by your side, and you let him, encouraged him even. Let the male press into your side during lunch, let him squeeze next to you on the bus, let him follow you around like a lost puppy. He still had yet to hear a mean word, an insult, a derogatory remark towards him fall from yours lips. You were too good for that, his sister, his /savior/. College is when the problems started.

And by problems, Izuku means attraction. You managed to snag yourself a boyfriend, your attention shifted from Izuku and onto this new person. Someone else besides Izuku was taking up your time, and it hurt.

It wasn’t hard for Izuku to spin lies about you to your “boyfriend”, to the idiot who thought they were entitled to your time. Something about using your boyfriend, about only being with him because he had money. Of course Izuku knew none of that was true - you would never! But Izuku needed you to himself.

He proceeded to subtly ruin every relationship you formed, even those that were just “friends”. All Izuku knew was that he needed you attention, all of it, no exceptions.

And you never figured out why you friends drifted away, why you couldn’t hold a boyfriend for more than a week before they were spitting in your face. It seemed like Izuku was the only one who was constantly there for you, through thick and thin. As time passed, it became easier to forget about trying to meet new people, easier to just be complicit and accept that Izuku was all you would ever need, just like you were all he would ever need.

He was there for you! Just like you were there for him, all those years ago. Izuku made sure to stress to you that you could go to him for /anything/. Homework help? He’s putting his glasses on and scooting over so you can sit down beside him at the dining table. Trying to decide on dinner? Izuku will help, opening the fridge and offering to make something for you. Need to run to the store for “feminine products”? Izuku is already shrugging his coat on, snatching the keys off the counter and telling you to go lay down, he’ll get anything you need.

He’ll do anything you need.

And he knows how long it’s been since you’ve had a decent orgasm.

Izuku convinced himself that he was just being a good brother, being a good man, as he bought you a vibrator. Your moans had sounded so forlorn in the shower, as if whatever you were doing wasn’t enough, like you wanted, no, needed more.

And he knew that some would think it’s weird that he sits outside the door as you shower, hell, he could see you wrinkling your nose as he presented you with the vibrator. But it’s just Izuku, nervous, needy Izuku. You know how he hates being alone.

He’s able to convince you to accept the toy. And the next time you shower, he knows you’re muffling your moans in case he’s sitting outside (where else would he be?), but Izuku swears he can hear the quiet buzz of the toy, and he can definitely hear your delicious little whimpers as you cum.

It all goes downhill from there.

In some dark, cobwebbed corner of his mind, Izuku registers that it’s weird. It’s odd that he’s so obsessed with his sister, that he’s so attracted to you. But he didn’t want to be attracted to anyone else, he didn’t want to need anyone else. And he certainly doesn’t want you having, wanting, anyone but him.

It’s fine, everything’s fine - He had said that first night, crawling into your bed with you. He repeated it softly as he slipped his hand up your legs, pet your cunt through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. It’s what he had breathed into your ear when you tried to wrench his hand away, when you gasped at his boldness.

You knew how needy he was, didn’t you? This wasn’t weird, it’s fine, just Izuku missing you. Plus, he just wants to take care of you. Won’t you let him?

Izuku smiles into your neck when your hands stutter from pushing him away.

Everything’s fine.

The touching progresses. It’s only under the cover of darkness, under the cover of your blankets. It always starts with Izuku crawling into your bed, waking you up with a gentle kiss to your forehead. No matter how much you try to tell him otherwise, Izuku knows you need this. He knows it feels good too, he’d done extensive research.

Playing with your pussy, feeling your juices slide down his fingers, rubbing and tapping at your clit, playing you like a fiddle. Occasionally a hand will reach up and tweak a nipple, massage your breast, send liquid fire thrumming through your veins. Izuku likes seeing you arch back, mouth opened and eyes rolled back in pleasure as his hands work you over. It’s almost enough to satisfy him. But he’s so needy.

It’s one of his limits, he’s only gonna touch you. He’s not gonna take his pants off, he’s not gonna pull his cock out, no matter how hard he is, no matter how uncomfortable it gets. He doesn’t want to make you uneasy.

But just like his other limits, you shatter his resolve on keeping this limit firm. You’re just so wet and receptive to his touch, rolling your hips against his hand, muffing your little gasps and moans into your pillow. Izuku can tell you want more, that you need more, something thick and hot and soft pushing at you clit, something bigger than his fingers.

so it’s fine, everything’s fine as he pushes down his pajama pants, pulls his thick cock out of his underwear, lets it rest up against your pussy.

He has to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming. Explains that he’s no gonna go inside, he’s just gonna help you feel even better. You’ll let him, won’t you? He’s made you feel so good already.

When you hesitantly nodded, obviously not convinced but not actively fighting, Izuku smiles and removes his hand, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

When he wraps a hand around himself, the pleasure zings so fast up his spine that if he weren’t already laying down facing you, he would’ve fallen over. Izuku lets his cock head rest against your clit, lets the tip rub against your ltittle button on each quick stroke of his fist.

He knows it probably isn’t as intense as when he stimulates your clit directly, but you seem to be enjoying it all the same, shivering and bucking your hips closer to him.

It feels so good for Izuku, fucking into his tight fist, slide eased by your wetness, pressing the blunt, drooling head of his cock against your rosy little nub, making your squirm and moan so sweetly.

He cums right after you do, letting his cum paint the outside of your pussy, make it messy, adding to the slick wet that was already there.

From there, izuku isn’t shy about pulling his dick out every other night. It becomes a common occurrence, pussyjobs and Izuku humping you, thick cock sandwiched between the puffy lips of your cunt. He never fails to take care of you - if you don’t cum before he does, your brother will always graciously finger you until you squirt.

It’s fine, everything’s fine as long as he doesn’t go inside, right?

That’s one of his limits.

It’s fine, he won’t cross that line

Hopefully.

#yandere #yandere izuku #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere deku #stepbrother #step siblings #tw dubcon #bad izuku #yandere thoughts #yandere boku no hero academia #izuku midoria x reader #Yandere midoriya Izuku

733 notes · View notes

mooshua · 3 years

Text

hi uh it’s mooshua (aurora, moosh, whatever you want to call me). I’m so sorry about my sudden leave and everything and worrying some of you. that was really uncool of me to do and I really am so regretful for that. honestly I’m kinda embarrassed right now. explaining myself is rather difficult because, I won’t lie, I’ve been having feelings of inadequacy towards both myself and the works I put out. lol so I’m kind of having a hard time articulating my emotions because my mind is all over the place and I’m literally sweating as I type this out.

long story short: I got burnt out, started hating my writing with all my being, accumulated some Not So Nice messages, and then just did not want to be perceived anymore.

the long story: like I said above, I’ve been having Conflicting Feelings with regards to what I have been writing. anytime I read what I wrote I would just feel my gut twist and turn like I was going to throw up because I WAS SO EMBARRASSED. nothing about it was... up to my standard? nothing flowed right, I could point out a billion mistakes, and I wasn’t laughing like I used to. and it wasn’t just feeling embarrassed, it was like whenever I wrote something I would Not Be Having Fun With It because I kept thinking “deadline deadline deadline you need to finish this by the end of this week it’s only 5k words are you saying you can’t come up with a measly chapter in a week you used to be able to write 15 chapters in a month you dog” and I would just force myself to sit in front of my computer for hours and when I finally finished I wasn’t really happy with the final product I would just think “god I need a smoke break” even though I’ve never smoked in my life. and then I’d also get “please update!” messages/comments in the dry periods and, don’t get me wrong I really appreciate that people are reading my stuff, but I’d feel more and more stressed because then I’d automatically think “Oh My God People Are Waiting And I’m Letting Them Down.”

so with all these bad feelings welling up inside me I thought “I need a break.” and that’s what I did. I took like a 3 week break in september/october (I honestly don’t remember because the days have been bleeding together) in hopes that I just needed to rest to get my brain started again! after those 3 weeks I then did the usual routine of writing and updating, but again Things Just Didn’t Feel Right because it felt like I was diving back into that stress inducing spiral of the dreaded Weekly Updates.

I mean, I would get so hung over this stuff because in the back of my mind during my free time I’d be thinking “I could be writing and finishing up both series right now” and you know what? I’d do that. well, I tried at least. I’d force myself to sit and type whenever I had ANY free time because I already had everything planned, I just needed to put words to a page. well, doing that for nights on end was just mentally exhausting me to New Levels. everything I was doing was not sustainable at all.

AND THEN THINGS SLOWLY GOT WORSE because I would have zero confidence in my writing and every week or so I’d get a message in my inbox saying something along the lines of (or rather word for word) “your writing isn’t that good/special/anything new I don’t understand why people are reading it/why you get so many notes/you’re not as funny as you think you are” and at first I would kind of laugh at it and go “oh trust me buddy, I’m wondering the same thing too” and then delete it because I do Not Wish to entertain the thought on my blog, but then I was hitting a new all time low in my mentality and I got another message on the day I deactivated which was a Really Bad Day and it read “your writing isn’t good” and I went back to the chapter I was editing for the day, felt my gut do that twist and I thought “you know what? you’re right. it’s not. goodbye.” pressed the forbidden red button and honestly felt a weight lift off my shoulders because that meant I no longer had to deal with that stupid cycle of constantly updating in order to Feel Something.

I kept thinking “why is this not as fun as it used to be, why am I so stressed out all the time opening that stupid doc and going on my blog?” like I would literally sit down and think about this as if it was a math problem or something. my inadequacies kept rising within me but I would just bottle it up, go to writing and trying to answer messages like nothing was wrong because I really didn’t want to worry anyone or think I was a charity case who needed help, but now that I think about it I really should have talked this out instead keeping my mouth shut. I just thought this was something everyone goes through so I was like whatever it’ll pass. I kept thinking “this shouldn’t be as deep as I’m making it” and brush it aside, but then I kept thinking negatively about my ability to write and literally DREADED sitting down in front of my laptop that I would have to hype myself up in order to get a sentence in. I think the last time I actually felt really proud of something I had written was during the summer...... and then after that it was just downhill.

and listen. I know this is just a Fun endeavor and I really shouldn’t care about what other people think as long as it makes me happy, but along the way I stopped being happy because I started caring Way Too much and putting unrealistic expectations on myself. it’s weird. I know at my Big Age I should have a better mentality, but it’s been eating at me for a while and I just wanted to pull the plug.

okay now the part that a lot of people are wondering: are you going to finish your series? I plan to. I really want to. I think it’d be a waste not to. I’m still feeling pretty conflicted right now with my writing, but I already mapped everything out, and I don’t like to break promises since I already said I was going to do this thing. thanks to anyone who read my works and I’m sorry to have worried you. I just needed to take a step back and think about what’s good for myself.

yeah. so that’s my explanation. this whole thing is so long and for that I’m sorry. if you went through this then pat on the back for you. I don’t know when I’ll come back or how long it will take. I just want time for myself and to not think about anything with regards to writing. like at all. also I only have 1 request: for anyone who downloaded the series from ao3, please do not repost or reupload or redistribute them. please I’m literally begging. I deleted them for a reason and I really don’t like the idea of these stories floating around without my consent. when I do get back into it I’d like to make edits to what I have written. idk if any of my mutuals still want to talk to me after this but feel free to lmk lmfao sorry I know that I sound like I’m off the deep end but I really just need to cool it before I start diving back into a Healthy Relationship With My Writing Hobby lol. why am I so dramatic... SORRY. anyway. I hope you guys are staying happy and healthy during this time. don’t forget that.

#mooshua #shiratorizawa antics #msby black jackals online!

280 notes · View notes

narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Return to sender

CW: I’m bad at writing pregnancy stuff,

first part: here

previous part: here

Before you knew it, you'd been on your own for almost four months. God, it's been so long. You thought with a bit of fear as you drove home from the store in the swiftly waning light of evening, glancing at the passengers seat where bags of all of the supplies you had looked up for having a home birth. Which wasn't going to be fun, but going to a hospital meant paperwork and being kept in one place for an unknown amount of time, easily trackable, not to mention the hospital birth records would be perfectly accessible to the Zoldycks, meaning they could track down your baby. So, you were just going to bite the bullet and do it yourself. On the bright side, I have about 2 months to prepare and learn, so things will go great. You told yourself, sending a quick prayer to any god listening that you didn't face any complications, because you'd only gone to one doctor's appointment for the baby, and while it didn't show any bad omens for the birth, that had been ages ago, so you weren't really sure of how healthy your baby currently was. Though, some of that anxiety was more-so from the small changes you'd begun to notice in these last few weeks. It wasn't anything major, mostly cramping, more backpain, and exhaustion, but good ol' google had told you these may be signs of pregnancy. Hence the evening trip to the store for all of the things you lacked at home for a home birth. You hoped you were just being overly cautious, but you couldn't be too sure. Despite that though, you did your best to stay positive and just went about collecting your shopping as carefully as you could and waddling up to your nasty little apartment. You were pretty happy at the bottom of the stairs, on edge, as always when the place you lived had so many sketchy people that their aura seemed as engrained in the carpet as the mystery stains on your bedroom floor, but your mood instantly fell when you got to the top of the stairs. You stood there, heart racing, (e/c) eyes wide and frantically searching for any reason as to why you were suddenly so nervous. After all, you'd worked through this level of anxiety in your first month there, you should have a better handle on it than this, but then it clicked. It's too quiet. You realized, putting a hand on the banister to steady yourself as the dread hit you. Your apartment building was still bustling with noise, from neighbors having sex loudly, to someone's kids getting into a shrieking match, those noises were pretty mundane to you now, but something still felt too calm. Like that moment in movies right before the murderer attacks. Calm down, everything's fine. You told yourself, taking a deep breath or two to try and wait for the wave of paranoia to ebb. One of the neighbors probably just has some sort of guest over. Or maybe some strong nen user passed by, I'm sure it has a reasonable explanation. You continued to reassure yourself, but the feeling didn't pass. Some voice inside of you just kept screaming about something being way too off, maybe it was your survival instincts, maybe it was simply your paranoia acting up, either way you decided to trust your gut. So, you compromised with yourself. You gathered your bags and unlocked your apartment to place them in, ensuring they'd be safe when you returned tomorrow, than you made your way back down to the foyer as swiftly as you could manage while heavily pregnant.

"Are you alright, miss?" A man suddenly asked, making you yelp, but when you looked over, it was just some dark haired man with a cross-shaped tattoo of sorts on his forehead sitting at the guard's seat. You'd never seen him before, but you tried your best to not be impolite. At worst, he was some sort of spy for Illumi, but if he wasn't and he was just one of the many sketchy guards that worked for the apartment building, you still didn't want to offend him. So, you laughed a bit, clasping your hands over your stomach to hide how badly you were shaking, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just realized I'd forgotten something in my car, don't want it stolen." you said in a shakey but kind voice, which made the man snort a bit, "Would you like me to go out there for it? I promise not to steal anything," he offered, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief while he was oddly amused by his own words, but you shook your head, brushing any stray strands of (h/l), (h/c) hair from your face as you spoke, "No thank you, but I a-appreciate your offer." with that, you made a beeline for the door, swiftly stepping outside and taking a deep breath of the fresh spring air. All at once, your anxiety began to wane, which you were immensely thankful for. Slowly, you let out a breath and waddled over to your car, ignoring the pinching cramping sensation that had plagued you for about a week now and just deciding to sit outside in your car for a while and maybe sleep there for the night since the upstairs of your building felt so weird. However, when you got to the vehicle, you pulled at the handle and nothing happened. When you tried a second time, the same thing happened, the door didn't budge. To make thing worse, you couldn't seem to find your keys when you checked your pockets. "Of course, it'd be just my luck that I'd lose my damned keys and lock myself out of my car." you muttered, leaning against the car and resting your head against the window, trying your best to think up a second alternative to going back inside when you heard it. The single voice you wanted to never hear again, "I must admit, you're a lot more resilient than I first thought." Illumi hummed, and before you could even think to react, he trapped you against the car, slamming his hands into the window so hard you heard it begin to crack. You shrieked and pressed your back against the car, less scared of getting cut on the glass than you were of Illumi, but instead of getting killed with his aura, or manhandled into some unmarked van, or hell, even being yelled at like you'd expected, you simply felt him brush a stray tear you didn't realize you'd shed from your (s/c) cheek, and when he did speak, he was as calm and unreadable as ever, "You had me highly worried these past few months," he said, pushing himself off of your car and looking you over, keeping one of his hands on you in some fashion the whole time, just in case you tried to bolt or fight him off, but you never did, you'd frozen in a mix of terror, defeat, and a dizzying sense of warped relief that nearly made you nauseous. "Now, you're coming home and we are going to have a nice, calm, talk about your mistake and how you can fix it." he said, grabbing you by the wrist to lead you away. However, when his words finally sunk in, you were filled with another sense of frantic determination, refusing to move as best you could while your (e/c) eyes welled with tears again, though that was more from the pain of Illumi tightening his grip on your poor captive wrist when you resisted. "No!" It came out a lot more forceful than you expected, "No! I don't want to go back a-and subject any child to whatever torture created you!" Finally, it was your words that earned a pause, and when you looked up to his face you saw a mixture of hurt, annoyance, and a shred of understanding flit across his doll-like facial feature ever so slightly. "(y/n), you need to calm down. You're growing hysterical and you're going to hurt yourself trying to fight me. Just relax and come home." He ordered, but you shook your head and continued to resist as best you could, which thankfully worked since the assassin didn't want to purposely hurt you "No! Just let me go, please! K-kill me if you must, but I don't want to go back!" you cried, and in a frantic attempt to get away, you pulled at your wrist as hard as you could, and by sheer luck, actually slipped through Illumi's grip. Sadly, your luck was spent with that last trick, so your attempts to get into the apartment building and maybe get help from the guard were quickly thwarted. Some part of you thought that maybe you could get away from Illumi Zoldyck again, but failed to realize he was a lot faster than you, even if you weren't about-to-burst pregnant. In a hope-crushing flash, he'd grabbed you again, wrapping his arms around your torso to yank you back against him and holding you there with one arm while his free hand captured your wrists to stop you from frantically flailing. "(y/n), if you do not calm down right now, I will get the doctor to use sedatives on you." he warned, his voice low and dripping with foreboding, which, if you had any fight left in you, washed it away like he had the first day of your escape. However, you'd gone still for another reason. "I-Illumi, let me go," you squeaked, your heart pounding so hard you didn't think you'd be able to hear his reply, "Absolutely not." He then tried to lift you up a bit so he could move you, but you wriggled "No! P-please listen, Illumi!" You plead, "I-I think my water just broke!"

#illumi x reader #sequel #x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #illumi zoldyck #outrunning obessessions #fanfiction #quotev #sequelette

51 notes · View notes

toujoursmiraculous · 3 years

Text

Thoughts and Reaction to Gang of Secrets!

I'm very late today at writing this because life ;-; You know it's a bigger episode when they start off with a problem. Ladybug doesn't want to detransform so she's desperate to find reasons to remain Ladybug. I love how the entire time, Chat Noir knows something's wrong and wants to get her to talk about what it is, but she just tries to pretend she's fine. If anything, Chat Noir would probably be the best person to talk to considering everything he's dealt with too both with Kagami and his responsibility as Chat! She could mention that she was seeing someone but they broke up because of her secret, and she could tell him how much being the Guardian's having an affect on her. All perfectly well and good without exposing any identities or things like that with questions for details asked. Instead she puts up a front with him and pretends she's okay in front of him and it's just so sad. :/ I understand why she doesn't, probably because she doesn't want him to know how much she's struggling. But ugh my heart hurts for her. Chat: I know where we can go where we won't have to talk! Ladybug: Yes, take me there Chat! *in the theater* Ladybug: You lead me into a trap. I MEAN HE'S NOT WRONG THOUGH! Not many places you can go where it's okay or encouraged to not talk without there being an awkward silence. But that cracked me UP. Also that casual attempt to wrap his arm around her lolol still hasn't give up, I see. I also find it simultaneously hilarious and extremely depressing that Ladybug's ranting like that in the theater because of a romance movie. When your heart is broken, that's probably the last thing you want to be doing. And Chat Noir yanking her down asking that she be quiet 😂 Literally just rants her entire love life out for everyone including Chat to hear in that theater. CHAT NOIR, YOU BETTER BE LISTENING BECAUSE SHE'S TALKING ABOUT ADRIEN HERE "She takes a long time to tell him and stutters and blah blah blah" lol sound familiar, sunshine? If anything please have him recall this later and be like, wait, didn't Ladybug say girls stutter around a guy when she likes him? BAM. Then he's off on his path towards Marinette. I can dream. Ladybug: And how do you know if he loves her? IMPOSSIBLE. Adrien: No, Marinette couldn't possibly be in love with me. *eyetwitch* But at the end of the day. This is Marinette ranting to Adrien about how she had to give up on Adrien and then couldn't make things work with Luka because of her secret. Ooof. And poor Chat having to apologize for everyone because Ladybug's disturbing them XDD THE GIRL SAVES EVERYBODY'S LIVES PRACTICALLY EVERY DAY AND THEY'RE PISSED SHE'S RUINING A MOVIE THEY CAN JUST REWATCH? 😂 She's clearly having a hard time right now, c'mon people! Chat can tell she has a broken heart. This boy is so sweet. He wants her to at least admit that and talk about it so she can feel better but you know, Ladybug's stubborn. I WANT TO GO SWIMMING LET'S GO SWIMMING CHAT, WOO HOOOOOO! Ladybug acting like Chat to hide her pain just like how Chat acts like Chat to hide his pain. YOU KNOW WHAT, IT'S FINE. :') It doesn't matter how much pain she's dealing with, those pictures mean too much to her to remove them. x3 Thanks Juleka for showing us how sad Luka is now, that's very helpful. Marinette's been going into the bathroom at school to cry, and then had planned stupid looking glasses to hide her tears so people wouldn't have to know she's cried because wearing a ridiculous pair of glasses that's embarrassing is better than being asked what's wrong. Because the pain I feel for her wasn't already enough. Ugh I adore Trixx. Trixx being the voice of reason when Tikki's not there, trying to help and letting her know that Tikki may need to rest too when she's so upset it doesn't cross her mind. And the tears in her eyes when she apologizes to Tikki for not thinking of her like she should. ;-; SO MUCH PAIN. OH DANG Alya was literally a second away from seeing a detransforming Marinette lol But she did say DETRANSFORMATION or well in the English dub it'll be "Spots

off" I love Rose, she's really sweet. and considerate But she also shouldn't be touching things in others rooms like that. I never liked it when my friends went around my room touching stuff. Also didn't help that a couple of them stole from me... but it's just not a cool thing to do. Would've probably ended up much better had she not had to desperately hide an exposed Miracle Box. But then we wouldn't have had what happens so it's all good c: Marinette saying she doesn't want to be friends with the girls anymore

It hit Alya deep. Everyone else is like *le gasp* but her eyes all shrunken like that, you can tell it really got to her hard.

This entire exchange right here. Alya's glance at her in the first picture is piercing, like I can feel that OOF feeling in my chest when I see it. The new music dramatizes it so well that a lot of people probably didn't pay attention to it the first time around. Can we just appreciate how these animators got all these emotions so right and did such a good job animating everything for us? And those that work on the music too? Everything's so spot on. Marinette's red-rimmed eyes is so well done. "No, it can't end like this!" Awww Alix getting super upset too x3 I honestly think Alix could be the next one.... you know what I mean BUT I'll wait until the end to talk about it. Trixx pulling a Plagg and rescuing Marinette! x3 I seriously love Trixx, I really do. I know the other Kwami's got mad, but if he hadn't done that it would've been disaster, probably. And the episode wouldn't have ended how it did! And Plagg knowing it was Trixx who caused the Eiffel Tower to be all weird xD Why do I get the feeling the relationship between Trixx and Plagg would be like that of Chat Noir and Rena Rouge? And I want to point out, we got 7 whole seconds of Adrien again! Aren't we lucky? The last time we got so little of Adrien in an episode was when we had his parallel episode Lies. I don't think that'll happen this time but I do hope it means more Adrien later on. Ladybug: They're after Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chat Noir: Okay but remember everybody likes her (so don't go thinking she's a bad person for causing their akumatizations) Yes, I read between the lines. Ladybug being able to get through to Lady Wifi and have her deakumatize herself was absolutely amazing! I know Chloe was the first to fight off being akumatized but once you're akumatized it's obviously extremely hard to break. That says a lot about Alya. "Because you're an incredible friend, Ladybug." One, AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW Two, did you notice the little jerk of her head, gesturing to Ladybug like that when she said it?? It's the little details guys that make this so good. 😍 "Chat Noir, nooooo!" Guys, we got our tiny little Marichat scene! It's not actually real, but still! (okay but why do I also get this really weird feeling like something like this may end up being real later?) Alya giving Ladybug that hug 😭 Marinette has such good, supportive friends. I love them all. x.x YES THANK YOU. Alya's finally realizing there are more things going on with her than just boys. One of the things that's always irked me since Chameleon is that any issue Marinette has, be it with Lila or otherwise, she always assumes it has to do with Adrien. Of course, at the time she didn't know she was Ladybug but she should've still listened and realized there's something else up. But now she finally is noticing and I love how she was going to respect her regardless and not push. Pushing has always been one of Alya's characteristics, but she knew whatever it was was something too big and serious to push her on. "Marinette, I'm your best friend, and I always will be." 😭😭😭 This episode brought me so close to tears so many times. Marinette admitting she's keeping secrets, lying to everyone. Admitting that that's why she draws a line between her and Adrien, and why her and Luka didn't work out. Alya saying however heavy it is, they'll carry it together (MY HEART) And then Marinette saying "If I tell you, things between us will never be the same. It's going to destroy everything, change it all." It sounds like this girl is thinking about Chat Blanc and oop there's the sound of my heart breaking again. So much paaaain. "Je suis Ladybug." YESSSSSSS Why they had to leave it off on a cliffhanger But YESSSSSSS First, the expressions she had flash on her face, the gasp 😮, then the expression like she's trying to get her mind to process. Then if you notice, Marinette gives a little nod, as if letting her know that it's true. Then the way her eyebrows furrow and pulls her into the hug as she understands all that she has on her shoulders as that music plays. I'm getting

emotional just writing this. 😭 This episode is just so amazingly good in so many ways, I don't think I can actually cover it all. I'm very impressed. I've loved nearly every episode this show has put out, even those that a lot of people seem to hate. But this one, I don't see how this could actually be hated if you're trying to think of everything that happened from Marinette's point of view, her thoughts, feelings, struggles, depression. I will say, personally I hoped Chat Noir would learn who Ladybug is first. He's been such a good partner, very thoughtful, always putting his life on the line. He's also been dealing with a lot of the same struggles. I felt like he deserved to know first. However, this isn't about who deserves what, it's about what Marinette needs. It's not that she doesn't want to tell him who she is! Don't misunderstand. There are many times throughout the past 3 seasons where she wants to or regrets not being able to. But now, Chat Blanc's in her mind. She knows what could happen if she tells him with Hawk Moth still there, so she can't do it. So instead, she tries to pretend in front of him that she's fine even though talking to him about everything would help and fix so much. In her mind, that's not an option. I just hope that when he finds out she told someone else first, he doesn't think that she doesn't trust him enough to tell him. Next I thought maybe Alix. That way it'd be more understandable to Chat that she'd know, after all future Bunnyx clearly knows and said to Ladybug that she chose her because she's capable of keeping secrets (notice how Alya said that to Ladybug in the alley? I bet Alix will find out in the near future. Maybe not this season, but she'll find out.) But that's for another time. But now Alya knows! Her best friend, the one to have her back and will no doubt have it even more so now! Watch out, Lila. Alya doesn't hold back so I can imagine how vicious she could be to her (and I can't wait). And that brings up a very interesting thought. Alya will realize Adrien has been the only one to have her back in Lila situations. Why would he do that, hmm? When everyone else was so sure Lila's an angel and Marinette must be bad for saying anything negative about her. Journalist Alya, incoming! There's also the matters of Alya bringing up Marinette's feelings for Chat Noir because duh, everybody can see how much she loves him! There are even photos of them kissing, one of which happened in front of Alya's own eyes! Though affected by an akuma, they all know that kiss didn't happen because of it. And of course, Alya has brought up twice in the show so far that Adrien and Chat Noir could be the same person. And last time Alya said that neither of them could be Ladybug and Chat Noir. Except, she's now found out that Marinette is Ladybug. So maybe Adrien could after all be Chat Noir. I look forward to seeing how their new dynamic is. I wonder how this affects their relationship with the other girls. And I'm most curious about how Nino and Adrien may react to this change. I thought during Truth and Lies both that their best friends were going to find out about their breakups. Gang of Secrets was Alya finding out. Even though I feel like another parallel episode is just wishful thinking, I can't help but think it may be a possibility. Nino and the boys are going to wonder what's up with Adrien too. They're going to wonder why he's not with Kagami anymore so suddenly. So what if i the end, Chat Noir ends up telling Nino? I could see it, if this takes place shortly after Gang of Secrets, where she tells Chat that she's confided her identity in a very close friend and somehow they agree that he can tell someone too that he trusts to make it fair. It'd be an amazing way to exercise Ladybug's trust in Chat Noir too. Then we'd have both Alya and Nino in on it, keeping their best friend's secrets for them without knowing about the other one. Oh that'd be so beautiful! And also let them keep their Miraculouses too after the charms are given to them and Alya has the ability to break

free after being akumatized. I adore Rena and Carapace so much I'd be ecstatic if they kept them. 😭 Anyway, so much potential can come out of this episode and I honestly cannot wait until episode 4!!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers #ml spoilers season 4 #gang of secrets spoilers #I wrote this late because I've been in a ton of pain today but I hope you enjoy it anyway!#alya cesaire #marinette dupain-cheng #ladybug #rena rouge

62 notes · View notes

sfb123 · 3 years

Text

Housewarming Heart to Heart

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Riley Brooks (Friendship)

Summary: Drake and Riley step away from his housewarming party, and end up having a heartfelt conversation about their friendship.

Word Count: 1,394

A/N: This is my first fic idea, and the first one I ever started to write. I struggled with it for so long, then I had a conversation with @txemrn where I mentioned it, and she gave me the boost I needed to revisit it so I could finish it and post.

FYI, I hate coming up with titles. I think it’s probably the hardest part of writing a fic, so please be kind to my lackluster titles.

Tags: Below. Good luck actually getting a notification about it! Also, let me know if you want to be added or removed.

Riley stepped out the front door and saw Drake sitting alone on the porch step, swirling a glass of whiskey.

“You know, Bertrand told me once that it’s a faux pas for a host to leave their own party.” She said, leaning on the doorframe. Her voice brought Drake out of his thoughts as he turned to look at her.

“I just needed a break. It’s exhausting to host a party.”

She moved closer and took a seat next to him on the step. “No shit. At least you know, and like…” she paused, “...tolerate, all of these people. The parties Liam and I host are filled with endless nobles, dignitaries, and other people I’ve met multiple times whose names I can’t remember for the life of me.”

“Yea, and I also remember all of the times I’ve watched the two of you sneaking out of those parties.” He extended his hand, “Nice to meet you pot, I’m kettle.” She rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder.

“Touché. So, the cabin is nice. Very Drake.”

“That’s kind of the look I was going for.”

“You know, you don’t have to leave the palace. We like having you around.”

“I know, but you guys just got married, you’re going to be having kids soon. You need space to start your family.”

“Space? It’s literally a palace, we’re not running low on spare rooms. Besides, you’re our family too, Liam and I having a baby would never change that.”

“I know. It’s just that everyone is starting to get their shit together. You and Liam just got married, Maxwell’s doing this whole book thing, Hannah is working on all that charity stuff. It’s time for me to start building my life.”

Riley wipes away a fake tear, pinching Drake’s cheek with her free hand, “Aww, my little Drakey is growing up.”

“Ha-Ha.” He said, swatting her hand away.

“Drake, honestly, I think that’s great. Obviously it’s going to be a bummer that you’re not around as much, but I’m really happy for you.” She said earnestly.

“Thanks, Brooks.” Drake starred out into the woods that surrounded his new home. “You know if someone had told me, when Maxwell walked on that plane with our waitress from the night before, that we’d be here right now, I would have thought they were certifiable.”

“I knew we would, even though things got kind of weird there with us for a minute.” She linked her arm in his and rested her head on his shoulder.

****

Applewood Manor - Social Season:

“If we’d met somewhere else...anywhere else. At a club in New York, or in an airport , or at a party. If you hadn’t been our waitress that night, and I hadn’t been sitting next to Liam. Do you think that all of this...do you think it could’ve been different...between us?”

“Drake, I’m here for Liam.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I...What am I doing? I need to go.”

****

Drake took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yea, I don’t think I ever really apologized to you for that whole thing.”

“You don’t have to, I don’t ever want you to think you have to apologize for how you feel. I’m just glad we’re able to be friends.”

“We were always friends, that’s the thing.”

“What do you mean?” She looked up at him, puzzled.

“You know the story, I grew up a commoner among nobility. Nobody really cared to get to know me, so I built up walls and didn’t let people in. Liam was the only one that really cared enough to break through them. Until you. As hard as I tried to push you away and keep you out, you’d come back at me twice as hard. You’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

“One of my many charms.” Riley gave him a cheesy smile and batted her eyelashes.

Drake let out a chuckle and shook his head, he continued, looking down into the glass of whiskey he had been nursing. “If that’s what you want to call it. Anyway, when we started getting close, I was feeling things that I had never felt about a girl before, I didn’t know what it meant.”

“So what cleared it up for you?”

“When you and Liam told us about your engagement. I was so happy for both of you. And that’s all I felt. There was no jealousy, no sadness, I was just happy for my friends. That’s when I realized that I do love you, but in the same way that I love Liam or Savannah. As a best friend, as family.”

Riley felt the tears build up behind her eyes. She and Drake were close, and yes, he had an undeniably marshmallowy center, but he had never actually used those terms about her. It hit a little different to actually hear him refer to her as a best friend, let alone family. Drake saw her holding back her tears and sarcastically rolled his eyes. He knew she was never going to let him live this moment down.

“You’re my best friend too, you know.” She replied, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I thought Maxwell was your best friend?”

“Nah, he’s my bestie, it’s different. He’s my party friend. The one I go to karaoke with, the one that watches old cheesy teen dramas with me when I need to unwind. He’s fun, I love him, he’s my brother, but he’s not my best friend.”

“I’m not fun?!” Drake made a shocked expression, and brought his hand to his chest in mock outrage.

She rolled her eyes, looping her arm through his and continued, “You’re a different kind of fun. You’re the kind of fun that reminds me of my previous life. When we hang out, it’s just like when I would hang out with my friends in New York. We give each other shit and complain about stuff. But I know when things get heavy, you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I am happy and safe.”

“...like get shot?” He looked over at Riley and cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course you go for the biggest example first. I was going to say share your whiskey with me.” She grabbed the glass from his hand and took a sip. As she lowered it from her lips, she grinned and held the glass up to Drake in a ‘cheers’ motion. He frowned at her and snatched it back, downing the rest of the liquid in one gulp, and placed the glass behind him on the porch.

“For real though, Maxwell and Bertrand taught me all the proper etiquette, crap so I could make it at court, but you taught me how to survive court. That’s the reason Liam and I made it. You’re the reason Liam and I made it.”

“Nah, you guys would have made it with or without me. You’re made for eachother.”

“Careful, Walker, your marshmallow is showing.” Riley poked her index finger into Drake’s side with a wide grin.

“There you are, love. I was starting to fear that you had gone home without me.” Riley and Drake turned back to the door as Liam approached them, extending his hand toward Riley to help her up.

“Never, My King. What’s the point of being home if you’re not there with me?” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as he pulled her closer.

Drake stood and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans as he faced his friends.

“Drake, this has been a wonderful party, your new home is lovely. Unfortunately, Riley and I are going to need to take off. I have some early meetings in the morning.” Liam shook Drake’s hand and clapped him on the back.

“Yea, of course. I appreciate you guys taking the time to come.”

“We’ll always have time for you Marshmallow. Please don’t ever forget that.” Riley pulled him into a tight hug. ��

“I’m pretty sure you’d never let me.”

“Damn straight.” Riley smiled at him before taking Liam’s hand and walking down the porch steps to their waiting SUV.

Drake started to walk back into the cabin, he paused and laughed to himself when he heard Riley raise her voice, annoyed, “He’s my BESTIE it’s different. Ugh, boys are so dumb!”

Tags: @txemrn @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @anjanettexcordonia @twinkleallnight @mile9213 @kittypryde-bipride @motorcitymademadame @kat-tia801 @bebepac @gkittylove99 @khoicesbyk @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @athena-penrose @pixie88 @eadanga @choicesficwriterscreations @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @annarenee355 @burnsoslow @shewillreadyou @imturaxamara @gabesmommie1130 @cordoniaqueensworld @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @hopefulmoonobject

80 notes · View notes

smp-live · 3 years

Text

Was scrolling through c!Wilbur crit blogs again and it got me thinking about why exactly I argue in favour of him so much so here’s a random ramble (that got long) about it:

Most c!Wilbur critics (at least, in the tag, not directly post-lore stream. The ones that do actual analysis on him) are like... really reasonable about it, actually, lmao. Like it’s mostly just calling him a bad person because of power hunger/manipulation/being a bad dad/whatever else. (Not talking about antis. I mean people who are really critical of him, but recognize that he’s a well-crafted character with nuance.)

Which I agree with! I consider myself an apologist, my writing and analysis leans really sympathetic, and I still agree that he’s a shitty rat bastard that I would run far away from irl. Even at the beginning of the story, he’s very morally grey, sometimes using underhanded persuasion tactics, doing ehh things like stealing, and it only gets worse from there.

But on the other hand, he’s... not that bad. Like I saw one person say about c!Dream, “My reaction to most critique of him is... so what?” and that’s how I feel about c!Wilbur, I suppose. Yeah, he tried to rig an election - but it was a last-ditch effort at not going full dictator, he didn’t follow through, and later on he - in part - decided to blow it up because they couldn’t get it back while being democratic. And yeah, he manipulated people - all in all, it wasn’t really really bad things, mostly to paint himself in a better light because of his insecurities, and people sometimes fall into manipulative language without even outwardly realizing that it’s a shitty thing to do. Of course, that shows a bigger underlying problem in their mindset and the way they interpret relationships and possession, but then that’s a different discussion - and definitely one that applies to c!Wilbur.

(Not saying he doesn’t ever intentionally manipulate people. I think that a. sometimes it might be accidental, (”If you wanna be President you’re gonna have to get on my good side,” mans was Not thinking straight,) and b. other times he falls into old habits/coping mechanisms that happen to be manipulation, (Tommy at Las Nevadas.) Other than the election and maybe some times in the early founding of L’Manberg, I can’t think of any moments where I’m like, “Yeah, he is Purposefully Manipulating here.” And even then, it just doesn’t strike me as a terrible thing. People manipulate, it’s a thing they do. That’s it. A morally grey action.)

And I think the majority of the reason I make more posts painting him in a positive light and don’t really discuss my critique of him is because it feels like the fandom has an overwhelming bias of hatred/crit, even if a lot of that isn’t, y’know, proper analysis of his character. I instinctively want to balance it out for this character I love/relate to, because a lot of what I see straight-up ignores the lighter side of his moral-greyness.

Like, a while back, I posted a couple clips from late-election arc, of Wilbur talking about how he feels about Fundy siding with Quackity and against him. And the way I initially saw it while watching was, “Okay. He feels betrayed by his son who disagrees with his politics - and thus, him as a person, because your politics are a reflection of your identity, especially in Wilbur’s mind - and it’s perfectly understandable that he’d want to vent about that in private to a close friend. On the other hand, he should be able to recognize that Fundy’s allowed to be his own person and shouldn’t be babied. Fundy is in the right, here, but Wilbur’s feelings shouldn’t be dismissed.”

But then 90% of the tags were just straight-up hate for c!Wilbur, going as far as to say that he should die again. (And this was after we found out how bad the afterlife was for him.) That fucking floored me. I just couldn’t understand how they took this nuanced character aching for ‘the son he knew’ back (hm. very similar to c!Phil, actually) and turned it into ‘wow. This suicidal man sucks and should maybe die.’ I was so close to making a post defending him before realizing - I was letting fandom bias against a character push me further onto the sympathetic side.

And that’s such a fuckin’ weird thing to have happen, because you’d think that exposure to negativity about a character would make you feel more negative about them? But without fail, every time I scroll through the crit tag, or read a critical post about c!Wilbur/L’Manberg, I maybe lean a bit more towards that side for a few hours before swinging back hard onto the apologist side. Because a lot of the critique, to me, is really just, “so what?” after I let it stew a bit.

Then there’s the whole mental health issue. Obviously it doesn’t excuse the shit he did - I know people who have been in the middle of breakdowns and the stuff they say still fucking hurts, even if they didn’t truly mean it. But recognizing that he needs help? That for pretty much all his time on-screen, he was depressed and paranoid, which obviously affects the way he acts? That’s obvious. And were he in the position to get professional help - which he deserves - everything would be much better off. That’s the root of my apologism, I think: He deserves to get better. He’s not inherently evil, or bad, just a fucked up little man who’s ruined his own life and needs help. I want to see him, specifically him, get better.

Narratively, his punishment has been extreme and disproportionate. Every mistake, every choice - good or bad - has led to suffering, on his part. Start a fun little rebellion, maybe to gain some power? War and betrayal. Declare an election to consolidate said power? Lose, and get exiled. Blow up a nation? Die, and even in the afterlife, he can't catch a break. Purely as a sympathetic human, it feels like he deserves to rest. Deserves to heal.

But even medicated and less anxious, or going to therapy for his neuroticism and depression, or whatever, he still would be quite morally grey. A lot of his manipulation, his power hunger, comes from this neuroticism; from needing to feel safe and needed, (just like Quackity.) Not all of it, though. He’d still have his unhealthy ideals about relationships and possession, for example. Less prominent, sure, but still there. Some people, I feel, discount how tied up with his mental illness it is, while others don’t really recognize that it’s also a personality problem. Like, changing those beliefs is changing part of who he fundamentally is, as a person.

Actually, I think the c!Wilbur apologist community, in general, tends to scapegoat his mental illness a little too much? Not in that we explain his actions with it or ask people not to villainize it, (although sometimes I feel that what we call villainizing mental illness is a bit excessive, but it’s not my place to talk about that as someone who doesn’t really relate to Pogtopia!Wilbur,) but in that we use it in discussions a lot. Which is fair, because it permeates every single aspect of his character, but even without it he’d have toxic traits? Like his possessiveness is not purely a byproduct of his mental illness, imo. Nor is his treatment of Fundy. It’s amplified by it, surely, but that little seed of it is there in the first place. Just as c!Dream’s abuse needs to be addressed as a central part of his character, c!Wilbur’s possessiveness does too - and also outside of the context of their mental health, because they’re both brought on by an internal personality flaw, some fucked-up belief, if that makes sense.

As I said before: c!Wilbur is a mess of a human being that I would hate if I actually met. (irl I would’ve been a SWAG supporter, based on policies, but since this is fiction, I was POG.) But because he’s a character, that flies out the window, and I can love him - not even just as a character, in the sense that I appreciate he’s well-crafted, but in terms of personality and all that shit, while recognizing he’s a kinda crappy guy. Because he’s a character. That’s the fun of it.

#Enderspeak #idk just musing and working out thoughts that got long but I actually kinda like #I think I'm gonna try to not let that bias sway me as much anymore. write more crit posts even if they're made with love in my heart <3 #I might have to stick a disclaimer on them though because each time I get a pure hate comment part of my soul shrivels #You can also tell I've been reading a lot of books/treatises written by old white guys recently because I feel like my opinion #on everything is needed and wanted lol #Also on the villainization thing: if someone who does feel okay talking about it could write a response with their thoughts #that'd be neat #Because I. don't know how to phrase what I'm thinking in a way that feels right & not like I'm butting in somewhere I don't belong #But I'm not saying it's a bad/wrong thing. Sometimes I just see a post of someone complaining and I'm like #''Is it really?'' but I don't really have a personal frame of reference to know so #take my words with a grain of salt - I will defer to those who know better #Actually take this whole post with a grain of salt I might hate it in a few hours #Update from a few hours later: well I don't disagree with what I said but it's a bit more extreme than I'd put it now so

14 notes · View notes

13th-hour-reverie · 3 years

Text

So I wrote a DP fan-fiction when I was like 12

It will never see the light of day again-

BUT.

I had some weirdly fun ideas, as a kid?? And I’m not even sure if they’d translate to the teen/kid-audiences of today. (But I know there will be people here to appreciate it.)

I think it was all the 90s buzz around how, “TV and your computer screen will radioactively melt your brain,” or whatever. There was this massive campaign for scare-ads that went out, to keep parents from letting their teens use electronics.

The entire plot revolved around Vlad coming back to Earth (I said I had good ideas, not that I was clever) and wanting to take over the world through the use of...an army of mildly brainwashed teen-halfas that were bribed to do his bidding. He had to hide his identity, and lived underground or in the ‘net in some way. (Better than being left to wander the solar system?)

At the time, I think I knew that kids could be given the power to do whatever they wanted, and if threatened with losing that freedom, would work pretty hard to keep it. Not to mention...how much havoc a couple super-powered teens could actually wreak.

So...if you wanted to “offer” kids world-wide a fleeting taste of power, and then use that to bribe them into doing your bidding (in exchange for being given the power again)...how do you deliver “temporary” ghost-powers to the post-pubescent masses?

Simple.

You just use some weird bullshit ghost-virus to make their chunky 1990s/2000s home computer monitors to deliver a blast of ghost-radiation right into their faces! (Ecto-Acne style, but more refined. With powers reminiscent of what we saw in the hospital episode, when everyone caught the “ghost-flu?”)

Being true to the vibe of the late 90s and early 2000s, I think I had it where this ghost would crawl smaller Geocities circles and forums for “obvious” teenagers to spam. They’d send pop-ups directly to the kid’s computer, directly mirroring all the stuff we were told at the time (Don’t put out your personal information, ever! Never click pop-ups! Never download anything!) until a kid got curious enough to click on it.

The result was a beam of green ectoplasm-laced energy to the face, and a kid waking up with a new, bleached ‘do. I barely knew how radiation worked, but in my head, “ghost essence” or whatever had a pretty short half-life. (geddit??) The kid would be allowed to roam around freely for the first few days, their powers would begin to burn out, and then they’d be back to a normal kid after about a week or two.

To get their powers back, they had to start completing weird, but initially-benign looking tasks. Things like...show up at [x] time at [y] place, or deliver a benign package to a specific person. Eventually, once they proved “trustworthy,” they would get stronger and longer blasts of this ‘virus’ to keep their powers for steadily longer periods of time, until they were finally asked to do things that involved breaking the law.

Having this network of halfas was supposed to allow Vlad to make himself known to the public again. Nobody is going to trust him, but if a tenth of the teenagers in every tech-laden city in the world were under his direct control...he may have a shot at taking over the world. And in theory, these kids could be living anywhere. (A revolutionary concept, at the time.)

Needless to say, the main character was a self-insert. But after realizing the families of these ‘influenced’ teens would need to be kept busy, I started having them all collecting in one place under the guise of a mysterious “Summer Camp.” This particular family gets stuck in a storm, lo and behold, they end up in Amity Park, Guess Who, yadda yadda yadda.

The rest was meeting the canon cast, and a handful of kids trickling through town eventually realizing ‘The Kid Who Saved The World’ lived in town. And that, in order to actually stop what was going on, he was gonna need some equally super-powered help, that wasn’t dependent on following directions received via spam e-mail. Because I always thought it was really stupid, how small and under-powered his team felt.

Mind you, if anybody is SOMEHOW magically one of the few who found/read the original one I posted to FF.net way the fuck back when, you’ll probably notice I never actually got that far in what I’d written/posted. But it was the first story I ever re-wrote, did a story skeleton for, and actually tried to “plan out” with “proper writing techniques.” So little ever actually got written/posted.

I think the “moral” in my kid-brain was actually that, if given the choice, someone given PERMANENT ghost-powers would probably not be choosing to help some evil dude take over the world. But that so many people want to feel strong, or special, or do be able to do things that are ‘amazing’...power corrupts. Especially when your powers are dependent on a megalomaniac fruit loop. (Cuz like, c’mon. We all know he’d try again.)

Someone else has probably done this, and probably did it better, but I’ve so missed the DP canon. It didn’t even hit me how outdated some of these concepts were, until I went back through my (15+ year-) old writing. Yikes. If anybody wants to use it/write it better, have at. I’d be really curious to see how this would translate to the current generation of people Danny’s age, or how it would look re-written for 2020 post-Phantom-Planet canon. (Or however else you’d re-write it!)

My early contribution to Ectober, I guess. May participate with some art this year, if I’m able.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #technically doesn't break canon in any way #but BOY can you tell I grew up in the 90s

11 notes · View notes

solarune · 4 years

Text

flowers in your hair

part of @neo-cult-ure‘s colours collab! | masterlist + prologue

pairing: lee taeyong x fem!reader (feat. a nosy lee donghyuck, childhood best friend quian kun, and college best friend/co-worker johnny seo)

genre: fluff, soulmate au, florist au, coffee shop au, idiots (literally) to lovers

warnings: taeyong being too cute to be real, florist!taeyong, coffee shop owner!reader, donghyuck is annoying, reader has a nightmare, switches to taeyong’s pov for one part

word count: 10,577

summary: what you know about your soulmate taeyong in the 6 years that you’ve known him: he has 6 tattoos but is already planning on getting 4 more, he loves his dog ruby very much, he has only ever shared his banana bread recipe with one person (you), his mom makes the best kimchi jjigae in the entire world, his favorite color is pink, and he is the man of your dreams. literally.

what you don’t know about taeyong: what he looks like.

what you know about the owner of the new flower shop across the street: he has light brown hair, he’s a caffeine addict (if his cousin donghyuck picking up coffee 5 days a week says anything about it), and he is your enemy by association (according to kun).

what you don’t know about the florist: his name.

a/n: i’ve wanted to write a florist!taeyong fic for the longest time and i finally got to!! thank you so much to @neo-cult-ure for reaching out to me to be part of this collab and please please please check out the rest of the fics because they were all written by some really talented writers!! thank you to @jungwoohoos for checking this fic over as she’s done with my others ily. hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated :-)

When you open your eyes, you can’t help but feel like something is off. You can’t quite put a finger on it but something feels strange. But perhaps it was that strange dream that you had last night. Something about picking a color and finding your soulmate? The details of the dream were already escaping you but it doesn’t matter because you have to start getting ready for school-

Wait. School?

You sit up in bed and realize that you’re back in your childhood bedroom. You can even hear your dad singing in the shower judging by the terrible vocals that you can hear through your closed door. But why are you at your parents’ house? You look at your bedside table and see your phone and a letter with your name on it beside it. Picking up your phone, you check the time and realize that it’s 7am but it’s the date that throws you off; it’s 8 years behind. You pick up the envelope and slide your finger under the flap, hoping that whatever was inside would help you figure out just what exactly was going on.

Dear Y/N,

You’re probably wondering what’s going on. Your memories from our reality are mixing with your memories from the reality that you’re in so life is going to be a bit confusing. Good thing I wrote this letter to explain, huh? My name is Cyan. I’m the woman you ran into and told you to pick a color to find your soulmate. Yes, that was real, it wasn’t a dream. You’re currently in an alternate universe and your goal is to find your soulmate. Once you do that, you will return back to our reality and you and your soulmate will have the memories from the alternate reality. It’s your job to not only find them in the alternate reality but in our reality as well. This sounds difficult but don’t worry. Fortunately, you and your soulmate are able to meet in your dreams. However, I don’t know the exact details about that so you’ll have to figure them out yourself. Good luck and hopefully we’ll see each other soon!

All the best,

Cyan xoxo

You sit in bed for the next 5 minutes, trying to process everything in the short letter. You have a soulmate? You’re in an alternate reality? And not only that but you’re a teenager again so now you have to go back to high school? And what about your reality? How does time work here? Is this like a Narnia thing where you’re gone for years but return at the exact moment that you left? Or are you there for a week but 10 years have passed when you go back? And what the hell did “Cyan” mean about meeting your soulmate in your-

“Y/N! Are you awake? You’re supposed to leave in 20 minutes!”

Everywhere you turned, people were always talking about soulmates. Was there ever a time that we didn’t ever know who our soulmate is? How are we able to communicate with each other in our dreams? What about the people who don’t actually end up with their soulmate in the end? But you didn’t care about that. Especially in this very moment. Soulmates, in fact, aren’t real at all.

At least, you wish they weren’t real right now.

Because then Doyoung wouldn’t have broken up with you just because he finally dreamt about his soulmate last night. You’d probably be with him right now, watching whatever cult classic movie he thinks you just have to see because you made a comment once about never watching Fight Club during 8th grade. If he hadn’t had that dumb dream, your 2 year relationship wouldn’t be a flaming pile of garbage right now and you wouldn’t have the new drugstore eyeliner that Yejin had recommended to you running down your face.

“Wanna see this video that Xiaojun sent me of his dog?” Kun asks you, effectively breaking the hour of silence that the two of you have been sitting in, the only noise coming from your spontaneous bouts of crying and the videos on Kun’s phone as he scrolls through TikTok. After seeing that state that you were in at school when Doyoung broke up with you that morning, Kun knew that he wasn’t going to leave you alone today. You turn over to face him with a sigh, your head propped up on your hand as you watch Kun’s cousin’s dog run around their living room. But even an overexcited puppy isn’t enough to lift your spirits, something that Kun notices immediately and he frowns. “Listen, Doyoung didn’t deserve you and you know that and if given permission, I wouldn’t hesitate to dropkick him for you. You’ll find your soulmate eventually, and I’m sure they’ll be everything you actually need in a partner.”

You wrinkle your nose at his words; you and Kun have been best friends since you were 5 so it’s weird to hear him saying this cheesy stuff to you sometimes. “That was really nice and I really appreciate that, Kun, but please don’t tell me that you’re about to confess your feelings to me.” You laugh loudly when your best friend shoves you, returning his glare with a smirk as you attempt to smother him in a hug. “I’ll always love you but-”

“Y/N, I’m just trying to be a good best friend,” Kun rolls his eyes as he goes back to looking at his phone. “Your life isn’t one of those fanfictions you used to read when you were 15.”

“Yeah because if it were, the universe wouldn’t have made my boyfriend of 2 years dump me the day before my birthday!”

That night, you roll over in your bed for what feels like the millionth time. You check the time on your phone again and groan at the late hour, mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion that you’re bound to feel tomorrow. You wonder if turning 18 will feel any different. Will you dream about your soulmate tonight? Not like you’re too eager to talk to any guy in a non-platonic way but it would still be cool. You wonder what they’re like; what’s their favorite color, what’s their favorite place to go to clear their head, do they like to look at the stars just as much as you do? You feel yourself grow tired as you think about your soulmate and force yourself to not think about Doyoung, your eyes finally closing as you wonder if your soulmate likes flowers.

“Thanks for coming tonight. Want some cake?”

Someone places a slice of cake into your hands and when you look up to thank the person, all you can see are deep brown eyes. Both literally and figuratively; their eyes are very nice but they’re also blurry. You blink a couple of times and squint to get a better look at them but even when they’re standing so close to you, you can’t seem to make out any distinct features at all. You look around at all of the other partygoers and find that you can see them all just fine, so why can’t you see this person?

“My name’s Taeyong. And judging by the fact that you’re the only person in here that I can’t see, I’m going to guess that you’re my soulmate and you also can’t see me. Am I right?” they say to you, and even though you can’t see him, you can tell that there’s a smile on his face.

You stick your hand out and, even though he can’t see you, you smile at Taeyong. “My name is Y/N.”

Taeyong shakes your hand but rather than letting go, his grip tightens ever so slightly and his hand slides across yours to grip it as he leads you away from the spot you were standing in. He takes you outside, the cool night air refreshing on your skin and the moonlight making everything glow ethereally. He sits on the grass in the middle of the yard and gestures for you to do the same, laughing quietly to himself when he sees you looking up at the night sky in awe. You take a seat next time, your eyes never leaving in the sky as you whisper, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars before.”

“Do you like looking at the stars?” Taeyong asks.

You nod, your gaze finally leaving the sky above you to look at the boy next to you. “They’re pretty. And they make me feel… seen. The light from those stars, which are most definitely dead by now, travelled millions of light years just for us to see them, and they see us too. I don’t really know how to explain it but looking at the stars just makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.”

“Whenever I visited my grandparents, my grandpa would take me outside and show me all of these constellations using his telescope. Everything I know about the stars and the planets are because of him.” Taeyong goes quiet and you wait. From the way he’s looking down and pulling up blades of grass, you can tell that what he’s going to say next is important. “He died when I was 16. Some drunk driver who couldn’t tell the difference between the road and the sidewalk. I was so sad after he died.” You place your hand on his knee as a sign of comfort, not wanting to push him since you two just met. He lets out a mirthless laugh and you can’t help but smile sympathetically. “I stayed with my grandma for that entire summer after it happened. One night I was using his telescope and I couldn’t get it to focus properly and I just got so mad that I broke it. I cried after that and my grandma found me the next morning, sleeping out in the yard next to the broken telescope. She yelled at me, not because I broke his telescope, but because I could’ve gotten sick.”

“He sounds like a great man,” you murmur. “I’m sure he’s proud of you and that he misses you just as much as you miss him.”

Taeyong hums beside you, the two of you continuing to look up at the stars in silence. “So,” he says loudly to break the silence. “Any sad childhood stories you want to tell me? Since apparently I’ve decided that that’s what we’re going to do the first time that we meet.”

You burst out laughing at that, and even though you just got your heartbroken, you think that having a soulmate won’t be that bad after all. “I think we’re going to have to at least be friends before I tell you all about my traumas.”

The boy beside you gets up and offers a hand down to you, helping you stand up. “Friends?” he asks incredulously. “We’re soulmates!”

“All I know about you is that your name is Taeyong and that you broke your dead grandpa’s telescope while stargazing,” you point out.

You turn to look at him and your breath hitches, finally noticing that Taeyong is completely facing you and is standing very close to you. He takes both his hands in yours and you look up at him, and even though you couldn’t make out his facial features, you could feel his hands in yours and the warmth radiating off of him and that was enough. There’s this inexplicable pull in your stomach that makes you want to move even closer to him and just as you can feel yourself lift your foot up to take that first step, you panic and take a giant step back instead, letting Taeyong’s hands fall to his side.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Did I say something to offend you?” your soulmate asks, taking a step towards you but stopping when you put your hands up.

“You didn’t do anything, Taeyong, don’t worry,” you reassure him. “It’s just that…” You bite your lower lip in worry, wondering if talking about your personal life was appropriate in this situation. But he did just tell you something personal about him- “My boyfriend of 2 years broke up with me today so I’m not looking to rush into anything any time soon. I know that we’re soulmates but I need time to heal and be my own person.”

Taeyong doesn’t say anything for a bit and you wonder if you’ve told him too much. Just as you begin to think of ways to stop yourself from sleeping ever again so you don’t have to see him, he surprises you. “Out of all the people the universe could have put me together with, it just had to be you. I think we’re going to be great friends in no time!”

He holds his hand out for you and you take it, allowing him to lead you back to the party.

When you wake up, the first thing you see are the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Even though they’re nothing like the ones you saw in your dream, you can’t help but think of your soulmate’s grandfather. After a few minutes, you realize that you don’t remember your soulmate’s name or the story he told you about his grandfather.

“Great, so all I know about him is that he likes to stargaze with his grandpa-”

“Y/N, who are you talking to? Are you getting ready for school?”

Your meetings with Taeyong usually consist of you trying to remember at least one thing about the other, hoping that the repetition will be enough to get something to stick when you wake up that morning. The two of you are in Taeyong’s dream tonight (as you usually are since you rarely dream and if you do, usually it’s about someone trying to kill you), walking through a park full of cherry blossom trees with your arms linked together. He leads you over to a bench where you both sit in silence for a bit, the two of you lost in your own separate thoughts.

“So,” Taeyong says to break the silence. “We both leave for university tomorrow.”

You look over at him to find him already looking at you, and even though you can’t see him, you know that you share the same feelings he’s experiencing right now. “I know, it’ll be weird, right? One step closer to being in the adult world and all that. What higher power decided that I’m capable of being an adult?”

Taeyong’s hand brushes over yours and hovers hesitantly before taking it in his own. You let it happen because you know that he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just as scared as you are, so why not find comfort in the person that’s supposed to be in your life forever? You squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of the cherry blossoms before sighing deeply. Everything is about to change.

Your soulmate hums in consideration, shifting his body closer to you to make you more comfortable. “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to college so I can be an adult,” he confesses. “I’m going because I want to get drunk off my ass with my friends.”

You roll your eyes at his joke, sitting up straight so you could playfully shove him. “Oh shut up, Taeyong, you know you’re gonna be the best astronomer out there.”

He shrugs in response, fiddling with your hand in his lap as he looks out at the trees in front of you. “We’ll see. Life is crazy; we might end up somewhere we weren’t even expecting.”

And Taeyong was right. Life is crazy. Yours and Taeyong’s first year at university was hard. You were pursuing a major in economics while Taeyong was pursuing a major in physics with a concentration in astronomy. The two of you were so stressed your first year that you barely got to meet in your dreams because neither of you had any; you just slept. Your lives were: wake up, go to class, do work for the rest of the day, find some time to eat in between all of that, and then sleep just enough to keep you alive.

But you knew that you couldn’t do this for another 3 years. You ended up switching to a major in food science and nutrition with a minor in business while Taeyong switched to a major in plant science. During your time at university, the two of you tried as best as you could to remember where the other went to school so you could try to meet somewhere in the middle but the most you could remember by the end of your third year was that you both go to school in Seoul.

(“You remember that we’re both in Seoul, so that’s good!” Taeyong reassures you one night as you whine about still not being able to meet each other. “We’re one step closer!”

“Yong, Seoul is huge and there’s so many universities here. How are we supposed to narrow it down?” you pout as you lean forward to rest your forehead against his chest.

Taeyong sighs and pats your head, not knowing what else to say because he knows you’re right. But he won’t give up hope; he knows he’ll see you soon. Just as he’s about to answer, the room around you goes dark and you hear the creaking of floorboards above you. He can see the fear in your eyes when he meets your gaze and his heart begins to pound. There’s a loud bang from upstairs and you immediately run out of the building you were in.

“You know, I’m really starting to hate your dreams. Maybe this is why we can’t remember anything, because we’re too busy running for our lives like we’re in a horror movie!”

When you woke up that morning, all you could remember was that he hates being in your dreams.)

By the beginning of your last year, the two of you agreed to stop trying so hard to meet each other. You assume that the universe just isn’t ready for the two of you to meet yet so you might as well enjoy just spending time with each other. Taeyong agrees and surprisingly, it works. You start to remember more and more about him—small things like his dog’s name and that the scar next to his eye resembles a rose—so you start to write them down. You even make a list of things that happen every day that you would want to tell him just in case you see each other that night.

Last night, you finally remembered the recipe for his banana bread, something that took you nearly an entire year to learn. You grab your journal from your desk and write down the recipe, humming in satisfaction when you write down the last ingredient. You read over the other things you’ve learned about Taeyong over the years—his favorite color is pink, he has a dog named Ruby and she is one of the 4 most important women in his life (“Who are the others?” “You, my mom, and my sister obviously!”), he has 4 tattoos—and hear his voice in the back of your head from your first year reassuring you.

We’re one step closer.

You place the finished drink on the counter just as the bell above the door jingles, alerting you to your first customer of the day. “One medium iced caramel macchiato with almond milk,” you announce, holding out a straw and napkin for Kun to take as he walks up to you with half-closed eyes. “Busy night last night?” you tease him as he takes his first sip, laughing when you see his body relax at the first taste of caffeine. “That one’s on me since you look like you need it.”

“Xiaojun had his friends over last night,” Kun complains as he takes a seat at the counter to be near you, tracing the letters of the coffee shop's name that’s on the cup sleeve as he talks. “It’s nice living with him since we’re cousins and all but him and his friends are such enablers. But I beat all of them at Mario Kart last night, so it was worth it I guess.”

You hum in understanding and pick up a towel to clean off the counters, knowing that the usual morning rush would come in soon and you wouldn’t get a chance to clean when it did. “So what I’m hearing is that it’s actually your fault, is that right?”

“They’re enablers, Y/N, I’m telling you!” your best friend protests, his words a bit muffled due to the straw in his mouth as he takes another sip. “They know that I can’t resist playing Mario Kart when I’m drunk!”

“They got you drunk?” you repeat. “I’m starting to think that I don’t even know who you are anymore, Kun. Getting drunk on a Sunday night knowing you have work the next morning? Doesn’t sound like my best friend if you ask me.”

Kun rolls his eyes at you but just as he’s about to respond, the bell above the door jingles (quite violently) and another customer walks in with a “Good morning, Busy Bean!” You look up to find Donghyuck walking towards you, a wide smile on his face and his right hand hidden behind his back.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Kun grumbles, gathering up his stuff as soon as he hears the younger boy’s voice.

You laugh at that, knowing that the only reason Kun dislikes Donghyuck is because he works for the new florist across the street. But Kun’s just funny like that sometimes. He had been the only florist in town and everybody knew about his shop, A Thousand Petals. The place was beautiful and Kun was good at what he did. But then a couple of months ago, the competition rolled in. At least, that’s what it was for him. To you, the new flower shop across the street from you meant nothing other than the fact that they had replaced the burger joint that nobody went to. And let’s just say that Kun didn’t appreciate being surprised with competition on a Monday morning while being handed his daily macchiato. You gave him free coffee for a week to make up for it.

“Bye Kun!” Donghyuck shouts happily, waving to him energetically even though your best friend only grunts in response. He walks up to the counter and reveals what he was hiding behind his back: a bundle of daisies. “Some pretty flowers for a pretty girl,” he says as he hands them over to you.

You accept them with a smile, thanking him as you put them in a mason jar in front of the register. “What’ll it be today, sunshine? The usual?” you ask, even though you’re already punching in the order for 2 iced Americanos.

Donghyuck blushes at your nickname for him and his lovestruck eyes staring at you doesn’t escape your notice. You’ve grown used to the boy’s antics and know that his flirting is meaningless. “Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ as he leans against the counter. “Just a muffin please. And can I get it warm?”

You nod and put in his order, taking his cash and then smiling when you see him put the change in the tip jar. “So why no coffee today?” you ask as you put his muffin in the oven. “You guys find a place better than mine?”

The boy’s jaw drops at this, his posture straightening as he looks at you in shock. “Y/N, how dare you even suggest that. You know that there’s no coffee place better than yours!” He takes one of the flowers from the jar and starts fiddling with it, his smile widening when Johnny, one of your employees, comes out from the back. “Johnny!”

Johnny’s eyes widen at the sight of him and he freezes, his cup of coffee only midway to his mouth. “Damn, I thought you’d be gone already,” he mumbles, the two of you laughing as the boy starts fake crying. Johnny takes out the muffin from the oven and hands it to Hyuck after putting it in a bag. “Thanks for coming to The Busy Bean, we hope to never see you again.”

You push Johnny on to the floor, throwing a towel at his face as you chuckle. “Johnny, stop being mean to Hyuck and go clean the tables before Mrs. Choi complains again about them being dirty.” You ignore his noise of complaint in favor of turning back to the boy still in front of you who’s already started eating.

“His Majesty doesn’t want coffee yet,” he shrugs, crumbs falling from his mouth as he answers your question. “But you know he’s a caffeine addict so he’ll probably send me over during my lunch break.” He throws out the bag and puts the flower that he left lying on the counter back into the jar. “Speaking of which, I should probably head back. See you in a few hours!”

You wave goodbye to him and watch as he crosses the street to the flower shop. Donghyuck is an interesting kid. When you first look at him, you wouldn’t think that he works at a flower shop but you found out he’s only working there for the summer because he starts university in the fall. And his cousin’s the one that owns the place so it was a guaranteed job (“My mom and his mom actually had to convince him to let me work there but you know, I basically already had it.”). Ever since he first walked into your store, he’s been trying to set you up with his cousin, swearing up and down that the two of you would be great together. You’ve always laughed it off though since you weren’t particularly looking for anything and you weren’t about to take advice from an 18 year old.

“Here they come,” Johnny announces, running back to stand behind the counter with you as the morning rush comes in. You notice that the crowd seems to be bigger than usual and you feel nervous; The Busy Bean had just recently gone through some construction and had expanded but your new employees haven’t finished training so they can’t start working until next week. Johnny can tell that you’re nervous and places a hand on your shoulder, and when you look up at him, you see him smiling down at you. “Don’t be nervous, we’ll be fine! We always are.”

When you were in college, Johnny was the first friend that you made. Being without Kun was weird and scary even though he was only a 30 minute subway ride away from you but luckily, the boy living across the hall from you was there to provide you with company. The two of you did everything together—when you weren’t busy with labs and presentations and he wasn’t busy with his research and papers, that is. You even applied for jobs at the Starbucks on campus at the beginning of your junior year, and you were pretty sure the manager would have fired the both of you for always goofing off if you weren’t his best employees.

But the day that you knew he was going to be in your life for a long time was when you finally told him your dream of opening your own coffee shop. It was something that only Kun knew, too embarrassed to tell anyone else after your parents had told you that it would never happen. Johnny had surprised you that day, promising to be your first employee once it happened. You watch him from your place behind the coffee machine, watching him talk to Mr. Park from the restaurant that the two of you always go to with a smile on his face. Aside from Kun and your store, Johnny is all you have and when he notices you staring at him and makes a face at you, you thank the universe for putting him in your life.

“I have returned!” Donghyuck announces when he walks into the cafe, true to his word about returning during his lunch break. Behind him is a man who looks to be only a few years older than him with hair the exact same color as coffee foam. You’ve never seen him before but Hyuck apparently knows him as you watch him drag the older boy up to the counter. “2 medium iced Americanos please,” he says to Johnny in a cute voice, pouting when the man behind the register denies him his order with no emotion in his voice.

“Where’s your manager? I need to tell her you’re being mean to me,” Hyuck says as he sticks his tongue out at Johnny. You walk over with their coffee and place it down on the counter with a laugh, bumping Johnny with your hip to get him away from the register.

“Maybe Johnny wouldn’t be mean to you if you didn’t try to annoy him every time you’re here, sunshine,” you tease him as you take his money. Johnny hands them straws and napkins, making sure to stick his tongue out at the teenager in retaliation. You shake your head at him when he sees that you notice. You’re surrounded by children.

“Oh, this is the owner of The Busy Bean by the way,” Hyuck says to his cousin, smirking when he notices a blush beginning to form on his cheeks. “You know, the girl that you said you think is cute when you first saw h-”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” the older boy greets you very loudly as he cuts off Donghyuck, reaching out to shake your hand with blazing cheeks. “I’m- Uh- I-I’m TY.”

You shake his hand as you stifle a giggle, finding the blush on his face cute. Donghyuck on the other hand does nothing to hide his laugh, just narrowly avoiding an elbow in his side from his cousin. “Nice to meet you, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware that I would be in the presence of royalty today otherwise I would have rolled out the red carpet.”

“I wasn’t aware that, uh, you have such a nice smile,” the florist compliments you, making you smile as you thank him. “Your teeth are pretty,” he blurts out and you feel your smile falter as you process the compliment. Your teeth are… pretty? Johnny and Hyuck attempt to stifle their laughter at the man’s outburst, the man in question turning red as a tomato when he realizes what he said to you. He slowly starts to back away, pulling Donghyuck by the back his shirt towards the exit as he stutters out, “U-Uh I mean- S-Sorry that was weird- You uh-”

“Watch out!” you warn him, noticing a customer looking down at their phone pushing open the door right into his back.

TY lets out an ‘oof!’ as the door hits him, stumbling forward and tripping over his own feet to regain his balance. The coffee in his hand wasn’t so lucky however, spilling all over the floor and some of it even getting on Hyuck’s white shoes. The two of them quickly rush over to get napkins, TY sputtering out apology after apology as he cleans up the mess on the floor while his cousin whines about the coffee on his new shoes. You quickly get to work on making him a new coffee while Johnny deals with the new customer.

The pair quickly exit after you give TY his coffee, and you’re able to hear Hyuck saying, “I’m telling your mom that you spilled coffee on my new shoes. Also who the fuck calls you ‘TY’, why didn’t you just tell your name like a normal person? I can’t believe I’m related to-” before the door closes.

“Do you think that guy’s ever gonna come back?” Johnny asks you after the customer had left, gesturing towards the flower shop.

You can see Hyuck dancing in the middle of the store while the owner laughs and you can’t help but smile. You wonder what his laugh sounds like. “I hope so.”

As you’re getting ready for bed that night, you open up the notes app on your phone to read over what you wanted to tell Taeyong about in case you saw him tonight. Even on slow days, you usually have at least one or two things to tell him, but tonight you find it empty. You hadn’t thought about him all day.

Taeyong surprises both himself and Hyuck when he decides to go back to The Busy Bean only a week after what his cousin likes to call The Incident™ (he even says “trademark” out loud, what a weirdo). The man usually isn’t one to be this brave but he can’t deny the pull that he feels towards you. You’re cute, you have a nice laugh, and he wants to make you smile again. And your iced Americanos are unmatched. Starbucks who?

Walking into the cafe, he immediately feels his hands start to sweat at the sight of you. Your hair looks extra shiny today and you’re dancing along to the song that’s playing with Johnny (kind of badly, but it’s pretty cute). Taking a deep breath, he repeats the simple order in his head one more time. One medium iced Americano, one medium iced caramel coffee, and 2 cake pops. (“If I don’t get to go, then you have to make it up to me somehow!” Hyuck protested when Taeyong told him to watch the store while he went to get coffee. So cake pops it is.) When you see Taeyong walking towards the counter, you give him the biggest smile and he swears his heart skips a beat. He knows he’s going to end up with Y/N eventually but wow, this girl sure knows how to take his breath away.

“Welcome back, Your Majesty,” you greet him, your cheeks still slightly pink from your laughing and dancing. Taeyong notices a daisy tucked behind your ear and he realizes that it’s one of the daisies that he had shoved into Hyuck’s hands and told him to bring when he went to the store just last week. The man feels his heart skip a beat at that; you look like a goddess. “Didn’t think we would see you back here so soon. Our red carpet is at the dry cleaner’s unfortunately.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Taeyong shrugs, playing along with your teasing. “I get treated better here than I do at my own shop anyways. Hyuck won’t stop bringing up last week to literally everyone we know.” He blushes when he brings up the events of last week but he feels immensely better when you laugh. “Thank you for replacing my coffee by the way. I can pay for it now since I left so quickly last time.”

“That one was on the house,” you say, waving your hand in the air. “Anyways, what can I get for you today?”

Taeyong makes sure to come back at least twice a week after that, much to Donghyuck’s dismay. Each time he comes, he has to force himself to go back to his own store rather than staying and talking with you and Johnny. He finds himself growing more and more comfortable with your presence, his words coming more easily to him the more he’s around you. The conversation even turns flirty at some point, something that he didn’t even think he was capable of since graduating college. Sure he’s had a few lay it on pretty thick with him when they come into the store but middle aged women aren’t exactly his type. You are more his type, if he’s being honest. You and his soulmate, Y-

“Your name is Y/N?!” Taeyong all but squeaks out, his voice cracking as he drags his eyes from Johnny to you. Could you be…?

Both you and Johnny blink at him, not understanding where this sudden outburst came from. “Uh yeah, why? Is there something wrong with that?” you joke as you continue to make his drink.

Taeyong mentally shakes it off, subtly rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the unnecessary excitement he just felt. It’s probably just a coincidence. The universe seems to like mocking him, apparently. There’s no way he would just randomly find his soulmate like this. He couldn’t even remember where she ended up living after graduating college. “It’s nothing,” he says while shaking his head, giving Johnny a small smile as he hands over his cash. He notices the withering daisies in front of the register and makes a mental note to bring some fresh ones next time. “I’ve just always liked that name. I think it’s pretty.”

When you first created The Busy Bean, you hadn’t thought of incorporating flowers until Kun brought up that you had said you wanted to make it stand out from other cafes. That and the fact that the store’s name is based off of “a busy bee” and that, in the words of Kun, “your best friend just so happens to be the owner of the best flower shop in the city.” Unfortunately for you, your best friend and the owner of the best flower shop in the city won’t be around for an entire week because of a family emergency. And because of the store’s recent expansion and being so busy with training all of your new hires, it had completely slipped your mind to order new flowers for next month’s theme. When you had said all of this to Johnny during a lull in the morning rush, all he said in response was, “That’s rough, buddy.” (The two of you have been rewatching Avatar: The Last Airbender together recently.) What a great best friend.

After making sure that Johnny and the new hires knew exactly what they would be doing during the closing shift, you take a deep breath and do the one thing that you know Kun will never forgive you for once he finds out. “He’ll forgive you, you have no other choice,” you whisper to yourself as you cross the street towards Bloomin’ Love. You open the door and are greeted by the fresh smell of flowers, a Yiruma song softly playing in the background and fitting the atmosphere perfectly as the setting sun shines golden light into the store. It felt like you had entered a magical world.

“Welcome to Bloomin’ Love,” Hyuck greets you, not even looking up from his phone as he leans against the front counter. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“I don’t think your boss would be very happy if he found out that you were using your phone while there’s a customer in the store,” you tease him as you walk up to the counter, laughing when Hyuck scrambles to hide his phone and looks up with wide eyes.

The boy’s shoulders immediately deflate when he sees that it’s just you, placing his phone in front of him as he smiles at you. “Y/N, I didn’t think I would ever see you in here. Did you and Kun get into a fight or something? Did he finally get mad that you’re ‘fraternizing with the enemy’s cousin because I’m trying to get you to fraternize with the enemy’?”

You shake your head, explaining, “Kun’s out of town, he has no idea that I’m here right now. I actually need to talk to TY, is he here? I have a big order because I need new flowers for The Busy Bean next month.”

Donghyuck nods as he points towards the back, an area that you assume is restricted to customers since it’s behind the counter. “He’s in his office right now. Let me just tell him you’re here really quickly.”

He walks away quickly before you even have a chance to nod, so you take a look at the flowers around the shop. Directly behind you are bouquets of roses but what really strikes your interest are the magnolia flowers and plum blossoms along your left. You lean down to smell them, their floral scent overwhelming your senses and making you feel even calmer than you already did.

“Plum blossoms are one of my favorite flowers,” a voice says from behind you, making you jump and bump into whoever it was. You feel hands on your waist that help steady you as you sway on your feet, your eyes coming up to meet those of the man you were looking for. “Sorry about that,” TY chuckles, the tips of his ears pink as he withdraws his hands from you. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Donghyuck said you’re looking for me?”

You nod frantically, before explaining your situation to him, his eyes never leaving you as you talk. “I usually give Kun complete creative control because I don’t know much about flowers and which ones bloom during which season.”

TY nods understandingly, humming as he thinks and scans over the various plants in the store. “Flowers that only bloom during spring…” He begins to walk around, with you following a few steps behind him, his hands hovering over the flowers and his fingers occasionally brushing over their petals as he looks at each one carefully. TY suddenly stops in his tracks, one hand resting on a peony before he suddenly turns to you with a wide grin on his face. “I think I have some ideas.”

The florist brings you back to his office, and you think you see Hyuck wink at the both of you as you follow his cousin to the back but when you get a closer look, the boy’s already assumed his previous position of scrolling on his phone. As of recently, the teenager has been teasing you more and more for what he assumes are the beginnings of feelings for his cousin. And even though you swear up and down that the two of you are just friends, you can’t help but think about the possibilities some nights. Which makes you feel guilty because what about Taeyong? Your dreams with him have felt different lately, both of you distracted at one point or another, the conversation becoming awkward at some points because the both of you know that something has changed. Is this the universe testing you? Putting a man that you feel yourself growing more and more fond of with every passing day just to see if you’ll reject him in favor of the partner that it has chosen for you?

“Y/N?” the florist calls out, his hand waving in front of your face to get your attention. You jump slightly in your seat, eyes meeting his after you’re pulled out of your thoughts. “You still with me? I asked if you could give me a floor plan or something of where you put all of your flowers.”

“Oh sorry,” you apologize, heart pounding in your chest at getting caught zoning out. You pull the floor plan that you and Kun had first made 2 years ago and hand it over to TY, your eyes tracing the veins in his hands as he smooths out the paper on his desk. His hands look like they would be really nice to hold. Wait what? No, stop, think about Taeyong.

TY shares his general thought process with you, lightly drawing circles and arrows on the paper to show you where he pictures bunches of hyacinth and jasmine would be. Names like Barberton daisy, dogwood, azalea, and peony are mentioned while you nod along enthusiastically, not really knowing what any of them look like but trusting the vision in the man’s head completely. As he’s talking, you can’t help but get lost in the sound of his voice, the passion and flow of his words making your heart swell. As guilty as it makes you feel, you couldn’t help the feelings that you could feel blooming in your heart for the florist.

The two of you stand once TY is done sharing his ideas and you’ve run out of questions to ask. You force yourself to leave rather than think up an excuse to spend more time with him, his laughter paired with the way he looks at you dangerous for your pounding heart and overly imaginative brain. He says goodbye to you with a wave but not before handing you a business card with the store’s number should you have any more questions. As you’re walking out, you can hear Hyuck teasing his cousin, and when you turn around to spare TY one last glance, you can see a blush on his cheeks as he quickly looks away, as if he was caught staring.

Just before you get into bed that night, you take one last look at the business card that you had been given just hours ago. When you read the name on the card, you feel as if time itself has come to a stop. Your breathing turns shallow as you bring the card closer to you, squeezing your eyes shut and then opening them just in case it was some weird trick of the light. But it wasn’t. Right there on the card is the one name that you weren’t expecting at all.

Lee Taeyong.

It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a-

You feel yourself being pulled down into the water, a hand wrapped around your ankle dragging you down to the bottom of the pool. You kick with all of your strength at the invisible attacker, your lungs screaming for air as you thrash in the water. A pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you out of the water, the person screaming at you to stand as they tug on your arm. Coughing your lungs out, you can just barely make out Taeyong’s blurry form as he runs out onto the empty street with your hand in his.

Suddenly, an SUV with its lights on appears behind you, the driver revving the engine and accelerating very quickly towards the two of you. You just barely dodge it, the vehicle only inches away from Taeyong’s body as you pull him towards a dark house. You climb over fences and run through yards, neither of you daring to say a word in fear of whoever is after you being near. Your hand stays in his the entire time, too scared of getting separated to let go.

You see a light approaching you and duck behind some garbage cans, willing your breathing and heart rate to slow so that you could listen for any footsteps. Taeyong quivers beside you in fear, his hand squeezing yours and when you look over at him, you can only imagine how scared he must look right now. Looking at him, you realize that there was something you wanted to talk about tonight but with every single nerve being on edge since you’re, you know, running for your life, you can’t remember what it is for the life of you. Lights from the SUV pass by, gravel crunching underneath the tires as the car goes by you very slowly. You pray to every higher power out there that they don’t catch you and you release a quiet sigh of relief when you see the car turn and drive farther away from you.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate being in your dreams?” Taeyong murmurs, his grip on your hand loosening but still not letting go. “Because I really hate being here right now.”

You huff out a laugh before slowly standing up to brush the dirt off of you. Just as you’re about to respond, you feel a hand clap over your mouth, Taeyong’s eyes widening as he screams and reaches out for you. Something sharp presses against your back just as you hear a gunshot, blood quickly soaking into Taeyong’s pants from getting shot in the thigh, before everything goes black.

You have to stop yourself from looking over your shoulder every 5 minutes because of the intense nightmare that you had yesterday. The feeling of being watched lingered with you all morning, something that Johnny noticed and was concerned about at first until you told him the reason you were acting so paranoid and jumpy. Then he just ended up teasing you and even scared you in front of a customer, falling on the floor laughing when it happened. But you couldn’t help it, the dream just felt so real and it didn’t help that Taeyong, an actual person, was there with you to make it seem all the more real. You wonder how he must be handling it, you know he’s not the biggest fan of horror movies or scary things in general.

You decide to visit Bloomin’ Love during your lunch break, the questions that you wanted to ask Taeyong still unanswered. But if you’re right and Taeyong actually is TY, then you would get your answer in a few minutes. Except it turns out that you won’t be getting your answers today.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” you ask Hyuck in disbelief, even looking towards the back to check if the office light is on in case he’s just playing a joke. “He’s your boss and one of the two people that work here, why are you here and he isn’t?”

The boy shrugs before hopping up to sit on the counter, long legs swinging as he bops along to the music that’s playing from what you assume is his own playlist. “He was here when I got here this morning but then he left after an hour and told me he’s taking the rest of the day off because he’s been feeling anxious all morning. Something about having a nightmare last night? It must have been really bad for him to take a day off because you and I both know that this store is basically his baby.”

He had a nightmare?

The bell above the door jingles as a customer comes in and immediately approaches the two of you to ask for help. You back away to let Hyuck do his job, bidding him goodbye before heading back to The Busy Bean. Hyuck’s words swirl around your head, the conversation replaying over and over as you take out the business card that you put in your pocket this morning to look at the name printed on it.

Taeyong. Lee Taeyong, the owner of Bloomin’ Love. Lee Taeyong, who introduced himself to you as TY. Lee Taeyong, your soulmate.

After that, you become distracted during work, your eyes constantly looking at the clock to see how much longer until your shift is over. Of course the one day that you find out who your soulmate is, the one day that it would be super convenient to be able to leave work early, is the day one of your new workers can’t come in because they got food poisoning the night before. You don’t even know what you’re going to do once your shift is over though. The number on the card is the store number and you already know that Taeyong isn’t there. Maybe you could just ask Hyuck to give you his number? But then what? What would you even say? “Hey TY, it’s Y/N. Hyuck told me that you had a nightmare last night so I think you might be my soulmate”?

The universe, however, seems to have your back. At the end of your shift, just as you’re saying goodbye to Johnny and Jaemin, one of your new hires, you hear a very familiar voice call out your name. And when you turn around, there stands the exact man that you’ve been hoping but not expecting to see all day. You can’t help but smile widely when you see him and nod when he asks if you want to sit.

“These are for you, by the way,” he says as he gives you a small bouquet of pink forget-me-nots. “Pink is my favorite color but they reminded me of you when I saw them in the store just now.”

You thank them as you take the flowers from his hands, inhaling deeply before placing them down on the table. “You were in the store? Hyuck told me you took the day off.”

“I stopped by just to make sure he didn’t burn the place down,” TY chuckles and he sounds… nervous? Looking at him, you notice that he’s barely making eye contact with you, taking more interest in tracing the tattoo of a lavender plant that’s on his inner forearm. You wonder if he knows what you know, or at least what you think you know. You wonder if maybe he’s even known this entire time.

“Do you have a soulmate, TY?” you blurt out, too impatient to indulge him with more small talk.

He looks up at you with wide eyes at your question and you watch as the tips of his ears turn red. “I-I do,” he responds while nodding simultaneously.

“What are they like?” you ask him, telling yourself to calm down and to make sure that you’re right. It would be really embarrassing if you aren’t.

“She’s the girl of my dreams,” he jokes, laughing loudly when you groan and roll your eyes at his dumb joke. “She really is though. She’s really smart and knows exactly what she wants from life. She’s extremely hard-working but she also knows when she needs to stop and relax. She really likes strawberry cake and also likes stargazing. I actually tried making a move on her when we first met because I was young and dumb but then she told me that her boyfriend of 2 years had just broken up with her, so I felt extremely stupid that night.”

You feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest at his words and you know that you must have a funny look on your face because TY- no, Taeyong is looking at you strangely. “What about you?” he asks, his wide eyes and head that’s tilted slightly to the side reminding you of a puppy. “What’s your soulmate like?”

You laugh and take a deep breath, mustering all of the courage to pour all of the love you’ve been wanting to show Taeyong all these years into your words. “He’s the best, honestly, I’m really lucky that he’s my soulmate,” you say softly, your eyes not once leaving Taeyong’s as you speak. “He’s really goofy and not at all afraid to be who he is. He’s very supportive too; Johnny and Kun were always there for me when college got hard, especially when I switched my major, but it was his words that always kept me going. His favorite color is pink and he absolutely adores his mom, he swears up and down that her kimchi jjigae is the best in the entire world. When we first met, he-”

You stop to look at Taeyong and you see tears in his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he listens to you talk. You take a shuddering breath and lift your hand to gently take his hand in yours; he knows. “When we first met, he told me about his grandpa and how his love for the stars came from him.” You see a single tear cascade down Taeyong’s cheek and you reach out to wipe it away. With a watery laugh, you say, “He also told me that he ended up breaking his grandpa’s telescope after he died.”

Taeyong rests his forehead against your joined hands as he laughs, his eyelashes wet with tears and his eyes shining when he looks back up at you. “I finally found you,” he whispers in awe. “After all of these years, the universe finally put you right in front of me and I didn’t even know.”

“That day, when you said that you think my name is pretty,” you say, his words playing in your mind as you remember the day you’re talking about, “did you know?”

“I was suspicious but I thought it was too good to be true,” Taeyong says as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought that there was no way that the girl I’ve been dreaming about for 6 years just so happens to own the coffee shop across the street.” He raises your hands to his lip to kiss the back of yours and you feel so happy that it feels like you’re practically vibrating in your seat.

You’re about to respond when you hear Johnny call out, “Hey lovebirds, keep it PG! There are kids in here!” The two of you turn your heads towards the direction of his voice to find not only Johnny behind the counter but also Kun and Hyuck standing there.

“Did you forget about our plans, Y/N?” Kun calls out teasingly, a smirk on his face as his eyes flicker from your hand in Taeyong’s to your face.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, head turning to look at Taeyong with wide eyes.

He smiles at you reassuringly, kissing the back of your hand once more before letting go. “I’ll call you later?”

You nod enthusiastically, the two of you exchanging numbers before you stand up. You look up at Taeyong, not yet wanting to leave his presence. You can feel the warmth radiating off of his body and there’s a familiar pull in your stomach and this time, you allow yourself to indulge in it. He leans down just as you lean up, and as cliche as it is, it really does feel like you’re the only two there when you kiss. Taeyong tugs one of the flowers from your grasp and breaks off part of the stem, tucking the forget-me-not behind your ear and rubbing your cheek with his thumb before pressing one more kiss to your forehead and murmuring a “see you tomorrow” against your skin.

Waking up the next morning, you let yourself indulge in thoughts of yesterday, the events leading up to the kiss replaying in your head and making butterflies erupt in your stomach all over again. You and Taeyong had agreed to go on your first date today after work and you wish that someone could invent a time machine so you could just skip the work day and go on your date already.

You sit up in bed and feel every ounce of happiness drain out of you, your surroundings unfamiliar to you. The walls are still the same color but the books on your shelf are different, your floor is carpeted, and who the heck are those people you’re with in the pictures on your wall? You even look out the window to find a completely different view. Where the hell are you?

It suddenly hits you that you’re back in the real world—or your reality at least. The past 8 years have basically just been one long dream. You jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom to check to see if there were any visible signs of aging. You let out a sigh of relief when you realize that you still look the exact same and go back to your room to check the date on your phone just to confirm. There’s an envelope with your name on it beside your phone and you feel a sense of déjà vu as you rip it open.

Dear Y/N,

Welcome back! Hopefully you’re not too disoriented after returning to our reality but I wrote this letter just in case. It’s only been a day since we first met so don’t worry, everything in your old life is still the same as it was. It’ll take a few days for memories from your life here to resurface so just take it easy for now. You should still have your memories from your alternate universe and your soulmate should have them too, so all you have to do is find them! I know this sounds hard but don’t worry; as I’m sure you already know, the universe works in mysterious ways~

See you soon, Cyan xoxo

You let yourself plop back down onto your bed, giving yourself a few minutes to process everything before taking a deep breath. Taeyong. You have to find Taeyong. Getting out of bed, you decide you get dressed and get ready for the day, a memory of your friend Yuna telling you about the new cafe across town resurfacing, so you decide to go there. You feel too cooped up in your apartment, you need to do something.

Passing by the window of the cafe, you can’t believe your eyes when you see Cyan sitting at one of the tables. She smiles at you through the window while lifting a mug in greeting and you rush to enter the coffee shop, your hands shaking at your side as you approach her. “Good to see you, Y/N,” she greets you, standing up just as you sit opposite her. You’re about to stand as well before she gently pushes you back down with a hand on your shoulder. “These are for you,” she says as she hands you a small bouquet of pink forget-me-nots. You look down at the flowers, memories of the past 8 years (yesterday?) overwhelming you but you shake it off and look up, only to find Cyan gone. You look around frantically but it’s like she disappeared, completely vanished in thin air as you look around the coffee shop and even out the window. With a huff, you put the flowers on the table and settle your chin on your hand as you wonder what to do next.

“Are you finished with this?” an employee asks you as they point at Cyan’s empty coffee mug.

You look up, about to answer, when your breath catches in your throat, your eyes meeting very familiar brown ones that widen at the same exact time as yours. Before you stands Taeyong, a brown apron with the words “Wake Up Cafe” embroidered on it in gold tied around his waist. Standing up, you reach out to grab one of the flowers and break off part of the stem before slowly reaching out and tucking it behind his ear. His hair is different, a little longer and a dark grey color with bits of silver rather than the light brown that you’re used to, but you see the rose-shaped scar beside his shining eyes and you feel like you could cry. Taeyong’s hands cup your face and his thumbs come up to brush away tears that you didn’t even notice, the distance between your lips and his slowly decreasing.

His lips brush over yours and his eyes flicker back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “Found you.”

You chuckle at his words and close the distance, and you wonder if springtime feels just as good for the blooming flowers as the love that you can feel blooming in your chest when you kiss Taeyong.

669 notes · View notes