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cursestothemoon · 3 years

Note

I just want to make Fred cum in his pants. A blurb or headcanon of this would be much appreciated.

I can offer compensation in the form of more horny Fred thoughts

i wrote this as sub fred because...well because sub fred

Angel Boy

F.W. X FEM!READER

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings: smut, sub!fred/dom!reader, dry humping/grinding, light degradation, praise kink, hair pulling, humiliation, crying kink, slapping (once), also ✨unedited✨ because i am lazy :)

Your dorm had been quiet, serene even, as you thumbed through the last few pages of Pride and Prejudice. With proposals, brooding gentlemen, and gentility it was no surprise that your senses were intoxicated by the words of Jane Austen- leading to your failure of noticing the timid knocks at your door.

Maybe it was because of the make out session that had been cut short last night- thanks to George, maybe it was the homesick feeling bubbling in his chest, or maybe it was a mix of it all that had Fred toeing the line of painfully needy. He knew you had a free period during his last class, and he knew Professor Binns wouldn’t miss him in History of Magic so he took a detour to your dorm after Umbridge’s class had ended.

The lack of response he was getting from his knocking made him let out an audible whine before rapping at the door harder. The sudden sound made you jump, book jolting in your hands as you turned in the direction of the harsh sound. Dog-earing the already worn page of the book, you stood up, stretching as you did so, before walking to open the door.

“Fred? Don’t you have cla-” You were cut off by the breath being knocked out of you as Fred’s chest hit your own in a bone crushing hug.

At first your brows knit together in worry, “Is everything alright, angel?”

He nodded into your neck before starting to place open mouthed kisses on the skin, his hips rutting against you.

“I’m all achy. I need you.” He whined, his neediness making him disregard all of the rules you had pout in place for him.

You gave a cynical laugh as you pushed him off of you, watching as hips pathetically stuttered at the loss of contact. He tried to pull you in again, hands having a vice grip on your hips.

“How embarrassing, had to skip class just to get your dick wet.”

Fred groaned at the way the words fell from your lips with such a filthy lilt, the fog in his mind growing at a quicker rate than ever before.

He needed you. Now.

With unmatched indifference you walked back to your desk and picked up your book, opening it to the page you had marked just minutes prior. The sight made your boyfriend vocalize his frustrations, his hand dipping dangerously low in the direction of his very prominent bulge. He was testing you now, knowing that he was pushing it with his desperate humping earlier and now he was pushing your limits of mercy.

You could see him from the corner of your eye, his form displayed on your bed not wanting to hide.

“You know bad boys get spankings.” You warned without giving him the satisfaction of eye contact.

His hand retreated slowly, but his whimpers had yet to cease.

“Just need t’cum. Please, princess.” He begged, ego going out the window.

His phrasing of what he wanted had the gears turning in your head, he wanted to cum, he never specified how.

You huffed, standing up with the book still in your hand with your thumb splitting it from the page you were just reading. The way he had draped his body across the bed, one arm bent and covering his eyes, his chest having a slight heave, and the just barely setting sun made him look angelic.

Deciding to play with your food before eating it, you jutted out your bottom lip walking closer to him with slow steps.

“Poor baby. All achy, huh? Just wanna cum right?”

Fred nodded, “Need it.”

Your hand reached out to grip his knee, slowly trailing up to where he wanted you most, “My angel boy looks so pretty, all whiny and desperate. Pull your hand away let me see your face.”

The sudden flood of emotions from having you finally paying attention to him and being so close to getting what he wanted had tears gathering on his waterline.

“Aw, baby.” You cooed, climbing up onto the bed and straddling his hips making them twitch against you against his will.

Your thumb traced his cheek bone making him lean into your palm before you hit him with a harsh slap.

A choked gasp came from Fred’s throat followed by a strangled moan as you sat on his clothed prick.

“Such a horny brat, forgets all his rules the second his cock gets hard.” You spat, hips starting gyrate against his.

The long awaited friction made the words dissipate from the tip of his tongue, replaced by breathy moans. His hands tugged at your shirt as you leaned over to grab the book you placed on the bed next to you.

“No touching.” You warned, pushing his hands off of you.

Another whine fell from his lips as your hips started to grind harder against his own.

“Please, wanna be in your cunt. Wanna cum inside.” He begged, tears threatening to spill from his waterline.

You thumbed through your book again, not paying much attention to the writhing boy under you, “Desperate brats don’t deserve to cum inside my cunt. Desperate brats get to make a mess in their pants.”

No longer keeping the tears at bay, Fred cried out in disagreement at the news. It was a new level of humiliation, being forced to cum in his pants made his cheeks heat up and cock twitch.

Watching you read your book, as if you didn’t even notice the presence of his painfully hard bulge rubbing against your clothed clit made him almost go against your earlier warning of no touching, almost.

Your hips picked up speed as you felt yourself near your own orgasm and the way Fred’s chest started to heave let you know he was close too.

The book was long forgotten, set aside on some corner of the bed as you braced yourself with your hands on his chest as you dragged out each grind. You reached for his hands, pulling them away from his sides were he kept them like a good boy, and placed them on your hips.

“Go ahead and get yourself off.”

Fred didn’t hesitate to flip you over, his hard cock that was tucked away in his trousers rutting down against your cunt. Your hand went to his hair, pulling at the strands as he created a delicious friction against your clit.

“Look at you,” You teased, hand trailing down the length of his spine before grabbing the waistline of his pants forcing him to rut against you with more force. “Gonna cum from humping me like a bitch in heat?”

Your words made Fred’s head drop into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. You felt him nod into your neck, unintelligible words being muttered onto your balmy skin. The precipice of your own orgasm had you hooking your leg around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to you as you both got closer to release.

Bring both your hands into his hair, you got a firm grip on the strands and gave a firm tug to lift his head and make him look at you.

“Beg.”

He was in no way going to sabotage his- possibly only- way of getting off and was quick to let breathy, high-pitched, pleas tumble from his parted lips as he looked you in the eyes.

“Please, need it, need to cum. Please, princess, please can I cum? Wanna cum in my pants like a desperate brat.”

You smirked, “Hurry up then.”

That was all it took for Fred to cry out- a borderline sob- as he picked up his pace as he came. You let out a moan as you followed suit, soaking the thin material of your panties. The body of the lanky ginger collapsed onto you as he tried to catch his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as he calmed down, slow soft kisses being placed onto your collarbone. A few beats went by like this until Fred peeled himself off of you, a wet patch evident on the front of his pants as he looked at you with big, wanton eyes.

“Can I use my mouth to clean up my princess’ pretty pussy? Please?”

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@maraudersgirlxx

@famdomhideout

@raabyakhan

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

#Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley blurb

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lebrookestore · 3 years

Text

tape 5: play

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x reader

Themes: angst, ex! au, college-ish au, small town au. It goes back and forth a lot

Warnings: heavy angst, bittersweet ending, swearing, its very sad, chenle is a jerk

Wc: 6k

Playlist: 2 kids by Taemin, Gone by Rosé, Instagram by Dean, I still do by Why Don’t We, Believed by Lauv

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @intokook @mrkcore @coco-riki

Summary: A year after your boyfriend moved away, you find yourself sitting in your room with five tapes, earphones, a cassette player and what you hoped, and feared, was closure.

Authors Note: hello! this fic was supposed to be a small blurb but then i got inspired and lo and behold its a full fledged fic! I can’t believe I wrote this in two days sdfjfjkfjk. Feedback would be very much appreciated for this, since I’ve never written anything like this before ;-;

Midtown, almost got a place out of midtown, Instead I took a plane out of this town, And missed out on us

It was a sunny Saturday morning, as you pulled into your driveway, coming back from the store.

Parking the car and getting the bags, you walked up to the door, knocking it and waiting. You were met with your mother’s smiling face as she took one of the bags of groceries from you.

You lived in a small sleepy town, and attended the college there as well, which meant you still stayed with your parents. You were fine with that, you liked living there, and you could forgo the stress and anxiety of having to re adjust to a new place.

This was your home. It always had been.

Of course, you had been on holidays to other places, you had visited the other town, but when it came to it, you had always found yourself back where you started. There was no other place for you, there never would be.

It was the truth, but it held something bitter.

Then again, you had enough going on already, with being in your freshman year, straight out of high school, college life was very different. You had been to a total of two parties so far, courtesy of your best friend— Lia— dragging you with her.

You had enjoyed them, but it wasn’t something you would voluntarily participate in again.

The workload was something that had definitely changed, bogged down with mandatory lectures and assignments, tests popping up like a bad smell, you had more than enough to occupy you.

“Something has arrived for you!” Your mother said, almost excitedly, “It’s on the table.”

You helped her put away the groceries, walking to your living room, eyes falling on the package sitting on the table. It was somewhat shabbily wrapped, with tape haphazardly stuck on it to keep it together, and a tag pasted on the top.

Picking it up, you pass it from your right hand to your left, feeling its weight, reading the little tag. It held your address, your name and another name you hadn’t seen in almost a year.

Your mind ran at a hundred miles per minute, wondering why it was here, why his name was on it. It made no sense to you.

“Darling? Are you okay?”

Your mothers voice snapped out of your reverie, nodding slowly, “I’ll be in my room, finishing off a project”, you said carefully, trying not to show any sort of emotion as you climbed up the stairs of your house, two at a time, making sure not to drop the package.

Closing the door, you place it on your bed, reading over the tag again, a bitter taste filling your mouth. A name you hadn’t thought of in a year coming back now. It was so random, so absolutely unnecessary.

You curled your fingers around the messy brown paper, tearing it open as your mind reeled. The crackling sound filled the silence as the contents of it make itself known to you.

A shoebox.

It’s dusty, a dark blue colour with a line of red running at its side. There were two holes on either end, lined with metal piping and you could just about make out the nike symbol on the top. You brushed your hand over it, the dust coming off easily and sticking to your fingers.

Why would he send you this?

His name sticks out on the tag like a sore thumb, reminding you of what you lost, mocking you. Always content with where you are, hmm? His voice comes back, as clear as day. It’s as if he’s standing there, giving you his chesire cat grin as he spoke the words.

Zhong Chenle.

Lifting the lid off the box, you’re thrown into confusion. A cassette player, a pair of earphones, and five tapes. Picking up the player, you smile briefly at the dramatic set up. He could’ve called you, or sent a message, so why did he take the pains of sending you something as old and unnecessary as this?

Then again, it had been a year since he stopped picking up your calls, since you stopped trying to call him. A year since all contact had been cut off, as if he had never existed in the first place.

Sometimes you wondered if Chenle had been a hallucination. An imaginary friend.

Friend.

The questions filter in. Why? It had been a year, so why had he sent you this now? You had finally told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need an answer, but somehow as soon as you did that, you found yourself sitting in your room on your bed with what could be it.

The tapes were numbered in permanent marker in his messy handwriting, from one to five, indicating the order in which they were to be listened to in. You picked up the first, slotting it in the player and waiting.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for.

You pressed play. There was crackling, but only for a moment, until it went silent. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe this wasn’t even happening. Maybe-

i] tape 1: you deserve to hate me

Hey

His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts as you froze in place. He sounded the same as you last heard him, a little muffled due to the recording but the same. At the same time he sounded like a stranger. There was silence for a moment again, before he spoke up.

This is stupid isn’t it?

You felt the urge to answer, but your mouth went dry. It had been so, so long, and even though you had adequate time to get over him, it suddenly felt as if you were treading unfamiliar territory once again.

I-I don’t know why I’m doing this. I think it’s because I feel so horrible, I need an outlet. I guess speaking it into existence and recording it makes is my outlet. Making it all real.

But that’s fucking terrifying.

You don’t think you’re following, confused once again.

Y/n

You hear him take a deep breath right after your name, and it sends a chill down your spine, hearing him say your name once again. You had almost forgotten how it sounded.

I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, or listen to it. If you don’t I’ll actually be glad. You don’t deserve to, I’ve been a jerk to you. I’m sorry. I hope you hate me, I definitely deserve it.

I’m moving in two months.

The realization hits you, this had been recorded a year ago as well, two months before he left without a word or warning. It was old, he was here when he recorded it.

You didn’t quiet know how you felt, not yet anyways.

And you won’t know until I’m gone.

I’m moving to Korea, and I refuse to tell you, even if it makes me the bad guy, even if it feels worse, because that’s my dream.

I got signed by a record label after sending them that demo I did —remember it? We both went to the studio together, you listening outside as I sang. You were right by my side, all the time.

Except now when I record this, except when I leave.

I refuse to tell you, because the moment I do I know it’ll be real, realer than it is now as I say it. I don’t want to see the look on your face when I say I’m going, I know it’ll make me want to stay, but I don’t want to stay.

You knew exactly what he was talking about, you could recollect that day clearly. There was a small studio a little outside the town. That day, he had booked it for two hours to record a demo, his singing mentor with him and you tagging along.

It had always been like that, the two of you against the world, until, of course he left.

I physically can’t stay, I hate it here Y/n. It’s not for me, I want to get out, that had always been the plan. I want to get out and be free, I want to achieve my dreams. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe I don’t deserve a minute more of your time, but I want it all.

That’s why I’m not going to tell you —so I can have it all, at least until I don’t have you.

But you, you don’t deserve this, do you? Of course you don’t, but I suppose you’re the one with the shitty luck, you’re the one who ended up with me and now I’m going to hurt you.

He laughs a dry, breathy laugh. It was half hearted, as if he was trying to get himself to believe the situation was funny.

It’s not your fault I-fuck I’m sorry.

You heard a click and the tape died off, he had stopped recording there. The first tape was finished, and honestly, you didn’t know how to react. One part of you wanted to feel nothing, you wanted to put the player and the five tapes back into the box and send them away, or lock them in your closet to never find them again.

But the other part of you wanted to know more. You wanted to know how he felt, what went through his mind during that time. You wanted to know just how you lost Chenle, the first boy you ever loved.

Suddenly you felt overwhelmed, vulnerable almost. It was as if someone had opened up an old wound and left it open.

You got to your feet abruptly, pulling the earphones from your ears and dropping them on your bed, taking a step away and blinking rapidly. You couldn’t get caught up in the past, you couldn’t put yourself through that again.

But it was hard when the past was in your present.

Wasted, and all of my regret, I can taste it, If I had a time-machine, I would take it, And make it back to us

That night you couldn’t sleep.

The box sat on your desk, right next to your laptop, staring at you. You turned around on your bed, looking the other way, only to be met with the white of the walls.

You never liked the colour white.

It was too plain, too open for interpretation. It never had a solid answer. You liked stability, you wanted something permanent. You were the type of person that needed that reassurance.

Perhaps that’s why you were happy where you were, you didn’t find the appeal in starting over, because that meant nothing was certain. You stayed where you were because everything was already laid out for you.

It was like a colouring book in your little town, the lines all set out, everything drawn for you. Change meant you had to sketch everything from scratch. What if you messed up?

Needless to say, it was a good thing you weren’t an art major.

“This is ridiculous”, you whispered to yourself, sighing at the fact that you were now talking to yourself. You rolled over so that you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars shone with their dull green light. You remember the day you had put them up, with Chenle.

You shared a lot of memories with him.

“Fucking hell”, you hissed, sitting up, swinging your legs off the edge of your bed and walking to your desk, sitting on the chair. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you picked up the second tape, inserting it in the player and putting the earphones on, waiting for it to begin.

ii] tape 2: milk before cereal

I know I’m making some terrible decisions, I really do, but if there’s one thing I stand by, its the fact that milk definitely goes before the cereal.

Why am I talking about this?

Well, because today you came over, Y/n, you came over and the two of us were watching a movie, and in the middle of it, you decided you wanted to have cereal, specifically frosted flakes.

So what do we do? We have cereal because I can’t say no to you. You’re welcome by the way, honestly, I deserve the boyfriend of the year award.

A moment of silence.

No I don’t. I really don’t.

You bit your lower lip, shutting your eyes. It was the way he switched, the way his demeanor changes so suddenly that made you want to scream. Sometimes it felt like he was telling a story, one you knew and loved.

Only for the next moment to bring you down to reality, reminding you that all stories don't have happy endings.

Anyways, we got the cereal and you objected when I put the milk first, saying that it was wrong, but how? In what way? Here me out Y/n, I shall tell you why I’m right, even If I’m not actually talking to you.

You couldn’t help but scoff at this, shaking your head at Chenle. He had always had a flair for being dramatic in the littlest ways possible. It was endearing.

Putting the cereal first means it sits in the milk for longer! If you put the cereal last, you can have it crunchy! Isn’t that ten times better? Unless you’re one of the devils spawn and like soggy cereal. If so I’m hypothetically breaking up with you right here right now.

Ah...bad wording. I keep forgetting I have to break up with you. I don’t want to, is that selfish?

You deserve the truth, if only I was strong enough to give it to you. Staying silent is so much easier.

It’s not lying, not completely anyways. I’m not lying if I don’t tell you at all. I suppose it’s a half truth then, with the truth hidden in plain sight.

*click*

Lying. That’s what he did, even though he spent the last few minutes of the tape trying to justify it, he lied. He trampled all over your heart without a single warning.

You had trusted Chenle, having known him since you were thirteen. He had completely destroyed that trust. Something like that couldn’t be fixed so easily, not even if he had sent you these tapes.

Then again, you didn’t know why he sent them.

You retreated to your bed, turning away from the tapes, the words and memories they held, facing white once again.

You had met Chenle when the two of you were thirteen, in eight grade math. The boy was failing the class, and one day you found him sitting early morning in class, with his head in his hands as he groaned over some sort of equation.

You had offered to help, and the smile he gave was the brightest one you had ever seen, he was practically grinning from ear to ear. That was the beginning of your friendship, and the two of you were inseperable.

Ninth grade it was confirmed that the two of you were best friends, sitting together, complaining about teachers together, going places together so your parents didn’t need to tag along.

In your last year of high school the two of you started dating, and when you had told your parents, they were ecstatic, confessing they had always thought the two of you would end up together.

He was always there for you, every time you needed him. You could give him a call and he would be outside your door. If you were feeling insecure or scared, he was always there to hype you up.

You had been best friends before, you were lovers then, and it was amazing. You loved everything about being with Chenle. You loved everything about him, from his toothy grin to his obnoxiously loud laugh.

You loved the way his eyes sparkled when he had an idea (which, for the most part, were absolutely terrible. Needless to say the two of you got in trouble a lot), when he sang for you when you stayed over, the way he would always make sure you were never cold.

You loved him.

It was written in the stars, you were meant to be, it was the perfect combination. Chenle was the right person for you- the perfect person.

A year later you woke up with him gone, no texts, no warnings. He had just gone, leaving you alone.

Right person, wrong time.

Monday came around sooner than you thought it would, the weekend passing in a blur as you walked out of your first class, spotting Lia leaning against the wall outside your class, scrolling through something on her phone.

She was an exchange student, not originally from your town, but had fit right in. Sometimes you wished you could be like that.

“Oh! You’re out! Listen, there’s a party on Friday and you’re coming with me”, she stated. It wasn’t a request, it was a fact, you were to go with her. In her own words, ‘if I didn’t exist you’d probably have no social life.’

To be fair, she wasn’t wrong.

You nodded defeatedly, walking with her down the hallway, “I assume you want to go because of the cute new guy?”

She glared, but didn’t refute your accusation, “His name is Mark”, she said, “And that is none of your business.”

You snickered, “Oh it so is, you like him don’t you? Is this going to be another one of your crushes?”

Lia was notorious for having a new crush almost every week, being a very flighty person, her mind changed before you could even say her name. This was a bit of a problem, considering you went to her for advice a lot.

Her indecisive nature was not the best for that.

She rolled her eyes at this, “He’s cute, why not? Wonder if I can get him to dance with me at the party. You’re going to be my hype woman-”

“And the sober buddy?”

Lia ignored that.

“Also there’s this new singer”, she said, handing you one of her earbuds, “apparently he came from here!”

Taking one of the earbuds, you were hit with a familiar voice. It sounded amazing honestly, catchy, everything a song needed, but it was the voice that hit you. You didn’t even need to ask Lia for the singer, swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing at her phone, which confirmed your suspicions.

Filling with some sort of dread, your hands immediately went to hold your hand, specifically the bottom where the cassette player and the tapes were. You had been carrying them around with you, as if scared they would disappear if you left them alone.

“Isn’t he good?”

You nodded, not daring to answer as you bit your lower lip, “Hey Lili, I need to use the washroom so see ya later”, you said, handing her the earbud and taking off in the other direction, pushing open the doors to the washroom and getting into one of the stalls.

You had stalled listening to the next tape all Sunday, you didn’t even know why, but hearing him sing, that fact that he had actually made it, it struck something in you. You wanted to feel proud of him, but all you felt was bitter.

Was it a coincidence that this new singer had come out- Chenle himself- right when you received the tapes?

Pushing the top of the toilet down, you took a seat, taking the player out and plugging in, you pressed play for the third tape, waiting for it to begin playing.

tape iii] ill miss our dates

Remember when we went for that field trip? Ninth grade? We sat in the back of the bus together avoiding the stares of our teachers when they told us to sit down?

Then they pulled us apart? Yeah, mean fuckers.

Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, I just felt like reminiscing for a sec there, but today we went of a date! Well, I mean we got ice cream and then went to the park, but hey, it was fun.

You smiled. He had always jumped from one topic to another without any meaning to either. Sometimes it was a frustrating habit, (you had been on the receiving end of these useless conversations several times, which ended with you glaring at him exasperatedly), but for the most part, extremely comical.

I’m going to miss that. I’m going to miss you. Your little smile — have I ever told you just how pretty your smile is? Your eyes light up and crinkle at the sides and its something I don’t think I’ll ever forget, even when I’m gone.

You clutched the cassette player, marveling at the irony. He was talking about your smile, but why did you want to cry?

It’s a month left now, and I want to make the most of it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to the amusement part and then next week I’m surprising you with dinner. I guess doing things for you —for us — makes me feel better, like I’m compensating.

You deserve the world Y/n, and I want to see that world while you’re happy where you are.

You don’t deserve having to deal with me.

*click*

Your eyes burned, because you remembered each of those events. You had been so happy, so overjoyed at them. They burned with tears because there it was again, that reminder that you were destined to be stuck right where you were, because you were that idiot who was content.

But if someone, anyone, asked you at that very moment if you were happy, the answer would’ve been an outright no.

1 YEAR AGO

“Hey Chenle?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you want to leave?”

The boy thought about this for a second, before smiling wistfully, “Don’t you want to know how it is outside home?”

“But everything I need is here.”

Your eyes held a question, you were genuinely baffled by his reasoning, the way he was so stuck of getting out. You studied your bewildered expression, shaking his head. “You’re lucky”, he said finally, “You know exactly what you want.”

“Of course I don’t, but I know what I need Chenle, and that’s all around me.”

He shook away his other thoughts, “Hey maybe we’ll go exploring the world together some day.

You blinked, “You want me there with you?”

He nodded, grinning widely, “I want to take you along, Imagine, it’ll be fucking awesome, and hey this time there will be no teachers to separate us. We can even stand in the bus-if we’re taking a bus, that it.”

You laughed, “Maybe”, you mused, looking back down at your phone, “While I don’t exactly see the appeal, it would be fun to be with you.”

Chenle’s smile faltered, but he didn’t let it fall completely, wrapping his arms around you and sighing, closing his eyes and whispering something just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe.”

Why did it feel this way?

Chenle was right- you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to feel this way at all. It had been a year, so why did it affect you?

Why was it all happening at once?

You clicked your tongue, eyeing the player with contempt. You felt pathetic for being curious, for still feeling so attached to old news. It wasn’t as if it was going to change anything, so why?

Why did you still want to know?

Curiosity killed the cat. You wondered if knowing would somehow kill you.

No one was at home currently, so you sat in the living room on your couch. The items you were trying so hard to ignore were sitting on the small table in front of the couch, as if waiting for you to pick them up once again.

You wondered if you should tell Lia and ask her opinion about the situation. She may not be that helpful, but hell, she could help you burn the tapes if worse came to worse.

Sometimes you wished you had never met Chenle, that your history with him could be erased from your memories. You wished it never existed because fuck, it still hurt.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and pressed play.

tape iv] firsts with you

Do you remember our first kiss?

We were eighteen, in my room, playing Jenga. That was a year ago, oh god, I can’t even imagine, how has it been a year? You were wearing one of my shirts and jeans, your hair was in a ponytail. The two of us were sitting on the carpet on my floor.

You had successfully gotten one of the wooden pieces out of a risky area of the tower, but then it was my turn, it feel to the ground, destroyed.

I blamed you, and you laughed, and our banter continued. We argued and at one point I started tickling you to get you to shut up, because honestly-Jesus Christ Y/n you’re fucking stubborn.

Anyways I ended up on top of you and the two of us were laughing. You looked so pretty, hair messily scattered around your face as you attempted to get out of my hold.

I leaned down and kissed you.

Your throat closed up as he spoke. Your eyes stung and you raked your hand through your hair, biting down on your lower lip. The way he was speaking about it, as if he would do anything to go back, it struck something in you.

Because if you had the chance, you would go back as well.

You tasted like that strawberry chapstick you liked to wear. I could tell you were surprised, because you didn’t kiss me back for a good two seconds —which, by the way sent me into a panic for a moment there.

But then you kissed me, and fuck, it was like everything had stopped. I couldn’t think for a second, it was like the world had started spinning around me, and the only thing that was keeping me grounded, was you.

Was it supposed to hurt like this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, fingers fisted the material of your shirt as you tried keeping your composure. You didn’t want to cry, but he was making it so, so hard for you.

You remembered how it felt when he kissed you, you were legitimately so confused, was he really kissing you? Your best friend, the boy you had loved quietly for so long, kissing you?

Chenle was your first kiss, and it was the most perfect first kiss you could have ever asked for, even if you were on the floor, with random Jenga blocks scattered around the two of you.

The smile you gave me after I pulled away, I wish I could remember it forever. It was goofy as you burst into giggles, and asked me, “What was that for?”

I blinked in surprise, wondering how you seemed so normal, when for me everything had changed. I had kissed my best friend, the one girl I care the most about.

I must have looked like a tomato oh god.

Instead of waiting for my to answer, you sat up, pulling me into another kiss. This time it was me who was unprepared. The kiss was messy, it had no structure or plan, but I realized in that moment, that I really liked kissing you, and I wanted to do it more often.

You became my girlfriend.

The wistful tone he was using was starting to affect you. You had loved Chenle, almost too much. You could almost feel that nostalgic happiness you felt that day when he kissed you for the first time, the disbelief and joy that wrapped around the two of you.

A wave of sadness followed that nostalgia.

Our first date was so fucking awkward. We were at that little cafe you loved, you ordered a cheesecake and I got a smoothie, and then we sat in silence for a good five minutes.

It really shouldn’t have been that painful, considering we knew everything about each other already, then again that might be why it was awkward, I had nothing to ask you about.

So naturally I brought up school and that started it, the two of us complaining about the amount of assignments we had, and Mrs. Choi’s annoying squeaky voice- I swear to god that woman took a second for each word.

But I digress.

Slowly our conversation felt normal again, it was just us, eating cheesecake and drinking smoothies, together.

That wave of sadness crashed down upon you like a tsunami, trying to snuff you out. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling to keep yourself together. You were struggling to stay afloat, you had lost any leverage you had that was holding you up.

You couldn’t fight the waves.

My flight is in two hours. It’s four in the morning and we’re about to walk through the door and get to the airport, but I wanted to talk to you once again, even if we’re not really talking.

I’m pathetic.

You’re sleeping, in your bed at your home, you don’t know I’m going because I’m the coward that refused to tell you the truth. I’ll be gone by the time you wake up and then you’ll know.

You’ll know how much of a waste of time I was.

And then you were angry.

You were angry because he had no right to just come back into your life like this, no fucking right to make you cry. He wasn’t even here, but somehow he had managed to make you fall apart just with his words, with his voice.

He had no right to tear your world apart, the little composure you had standing. You had finally accepted the fact that he was gone, you had moved on, and even tried to forget.

But here he was, making sure you could never forget.

You hated how selfish he was, how absolutely fucking oblivious. He had no clue, not even one as to how you felt when he just disappeared from your life, as if he never existed. He had broken you and here he was, breaking you again.

With trembling hands, you stopped the tape from playing any further, angry tears making their way down your face as you flung the player across the room. You had no intention of listening any further, you didn’t want to, you didn’t care.

Closure hurt more than him leaving.

You buried your head in your hands, letting yourself fall apart, but just this once.

tape iv] continued [unheard]

I’m sorry Y/n. I’m so fucking sorry.

You don’t have to believe me, because I’m leaving anyways, so I suppose that cancels out my apologies huh? I’m the worst person you ever met. I’m not stopping, I’m not going to leave you a text.

Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore.

I’ll be gone before we could ever be.

Should’ve believed in us, while we existed, cuz now the whole things fucked, and just a figment of my imagination

Time heals all hurt, and reminders bring them back, cutting through your skin like a knife, making you bleed.

A week later, you found yourself sitting in your favorite cafe, the same cafe Chenle talked about in the last tape. You ordered a cheesecake and a smoothie, inserting the fifth and final tape into the player.

The last time you did this, you were left hurt and distraught, promising yourself you would never go back to listen to him again. You had put the shoebox in your closet, hiding it behind your clothes that hung from the rack.

Yet here you were.

You didn’t bother finishing the fourth tape, you didn’t see the need to.

This tape, you observed, was newer looking, with less scratches on the plastic, even the marker on the side looked more recent, a little rushed if you went into detail.

The cheesecake and drink arrived, and you took a bite, pressing play.

tape v] play

Hey.

He sounded a little different too, older perhaps. His voice was smoother, but he sounded unsure of himself. It sounded as if he was trying to figure out how to approach the topic. He was being cautious.

It’s been a while. I...I don’t know why I’m doing this. There’s no point- you’re not even here. I found these stupid tapes yesterday in my dorm when I was cleaning out and gave them a listen.

Silence.

I envy you, Y/n. I wish I was like you, happy wherever I was. But I’m not, and I probably caused you great unhappiness while trying to search for my own- but I was happy with you, so happy it was ridiculous.

I sabotaged that.

You sighed, realizing you felt nothing. You were tired of crying over Chenle, you were done doing that. Instead you felt empty, like you had been tired out, like it didn’t matter anymore. At this point you were to get it over with, to finish it off on clean ending note.

My song comes out next week, and it’ll be done. I’ve made it Y/n, I’ve gotten to where I wanted to be, the place I had worked so hard to get to. I’ve sacrificed so much for this and it’s all been worth it- except one thing.

I don’t expect you to listen to my song, I just wanted to tell you. I..I hope you’re proud of me. Even if I was a jerk, I hope you can be proud, at least a little bit, because then I’ll have finally made it.

I miss you.

The same words are at the tip of your tongue, I miss you, I miss you so fucking much, but they never came out. They didn’t have to, it would be useless. He would never hear them.

Instead, you swallowed them back down.

And even though I made fun of you for staying home, I hope you’re happy like I am, I hope we’ll meet again one day. If we do I challenge you to a game of Jenga, loser buys the winner ice cream.

I-fuck this is the hardest part- but I hope you’ve moved on. One of us has to.

*click*

You don’t take the tape out of the player, you don’t touch it at all. You feel oddly calm as you take another bite of your cheesecake, savoring the strawberry reserve that it came with it. You could almost imagine yourself at eighteen again sitting opposite your new boyfriend.

You missed it, the memories that came along with it. That was it, you missed the feelings you had.

But you were okay. You would be okay right where you were, because that’s where you belonged. It hurt, yeah, but it had hurt back then as well. Now it was just a dull ache, all that was left was regret.

Regret that it didn’t work out, regret over unspoken words and unnecessary pain.

A familiar song filled the cafe as you smiled somewhat sadly, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.

“I’m proud of you Chenle”, you whispered, “Because you did what I couldn’t”

You left the cafe a little later, with the cassettes in your bag, an empty plate and the smoothie sitting on the table, untouched. After all, that smoothie wasn’t for you.

There was nothing to wait for anymore. You had loved and you had lost, Chenle was a stranger with your secrets and a familiar voice and that was it.

You had forgiven him a long time ago, even without him being deserving of it. Now with all the loose ends being tied up, it felt like you could finally let go of him, you could finally move on.

And forget.

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kelieah · 3 years

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flowers (din djarin x reader)

summary: din attempts to show his gratitude to the one person who’s been by his side all along

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff

edited: also pls go easy on me lmao, i’m not following the plot bc it’s just a quick fluffy blurb w a lil bit of background! allsssooo please refill out or let me know if you want to be tagged for my star wars / din djarin fics

a/n: sdjhbfdsfb yay! first star wars fic (not technically but let’s go w it), i’ve been wanting to write for their characters for the longest time and idk what’s stopping me ?? so here we goo

main masterlist | din djarin masterlist

You worked all your life as a mechanic, studied different droids and ships yet here you are now, taking care of a child. The child of a Mandolorian who constantly came to you to have his ship fixed.

It all began when the two of you first met, he landed in your hangar with his busted up Razor Crest and asked for repairs. You told him you could do it for him with the help of your droids. Although, he was quick to reject your droids and asked for only you to work on it. You obliged in the end when he offered more credits, five hundred credits to be specific, for his request.

While you were repairing his ship, you had to take a look in the interior as well because of how grave the damages were. But while you were fixing the inside, a faint noise startled you. That’s when you discovered the child, who is also known as Grogu. You and Mando, or who you now call Din, found out not too long ago.

Your relationship with Grogu came naturally and easily. He grew attached to you immediately as did you. Although with Din, that was an entirely different story. After countless visits to your hangar and getting to know you, he fought with himself to make the decision to ask you to come along. He knew only so much about you but knew about your strong crave for adventure. It was a conflicting decision for him to make, he felt his odd sense of responsibility for you but he also emphasized with your past living and hardships. Eventually he asked you and to his little surprise, you agreed to come along with no hesitations.

Now, here are the three of you on a typical day of resting. Din lets you know that him and Grogu are going to the market. You find it odd that he doesn’t ask you to come along like usually would due to his overprotectiveness and slight trust issues but decide to brush it off. “We won’t be long,” he says while putting Grogu into his side.

“Whatever you say, tin head,” you yawn and turn back to your tinkering.

He rolls his eyes beneath his beskar helmet at your comment and walks off towards the coordinates of the nearest village. Even though it annoys him, he had to admit he never got tired of your insults and nicknames for him.

The village wasn’t too far from the ship and besides, he wasn’t really planning to get anything new. If you check now you’d realize you all didn’t need any more food or supplies for another week. He’s actually on the search for a gift. Din’s not one to express himself properly so after a short catch up with Cara Dune, he realizes he should be thanking you more. Not that he doesn’t thank you after you help him all the time, but bigger acts of gratitude. Though what would he know?

“You really don’t know a thing, don’t you? Look, maybe get the girl some flowers and give her a nice big kiss to show her how thankful you are,” Cara chortled while chugging down the rest of her soup. Din pursed his lips and scoffed in response. “You got something good for you here, Mando. I wouldn’t let it pass,” she teased and patted the table, before dismissing herself. As he watched her walk off, her words remained in his mind for quite some time.

“Do you see flowers anywhere, kid?” he mutters while striding through the busy village. Grogu coos in response and reaches out to an area. Din turns around and glances in the direction he reaches out toward only to see a stand full of flowers. He walks towards the stand and looks around the selection, uneasiness settling inside of him like before when Cara told him to get you flowers. He huffs in annoyance. Why were there so many different types? And colors? And scents?

This is a waste of time, he briefly thought to himself about to turn around until the merchant speaks up. “A Mandolorian buying flowers? Never thought I’d see that day, special someone?”

He lets out a quiet sigh and turns back around, nodding at her. Special is one way to describe it. He thinks deeply for a moment and stares at the variety of choices, debating which one would suit you best. He shakes his head due to being unable to make up his mind and turns away. He picks up Grogu who was beginning to walk off toward a frog and heads toward the other stands to clear his conscious. Not too long after, he purchases a snack for the kid and you. He eventually comes back to the flower stand and tosses the previous merchant a decent amount of credits. “I want it all,” he says firmly. The merchant gapes at the currency in her hands and glances up at him with a shocked expression. She nods quickly and hurries herself to gather all the flowers.

You start to wonder what is taking the two so long until you hear a series of short grunts and noises of, dragging? You place down your tools and press a button to open the back gate. You walk down to see Din dragging along a floating cart full of a ton of something covered high. Grogu reaches out from his bag and smiles at you. You walk over and scoop him up in your arms, pulling him close. Din turns his head towards you as you raise an eyebrow at him. “What is it?” you hesitantly ask and stare at him oddly.

His lips curl into a slight smile at your confused expression. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your face is a bit flushed from the work you were doing. Your lips are molded into a pout and the quirk of your eyebrow amuses him. He realizes soon enough that he’s staring and curses himself. “See for yourself,” he steps aside from the cart and fails to keep his eyes off of you.

You glare at him warningly and hand him Grogu, reaching out toward the cloth. He smirks slyly and holds the child, nodding for you to continue. You mutter incoherent insults that he easily picks up and chuckles inaudibly. You grasp it and begin to pull it down until Din startles you by yelling just to scare you. Grogu giggles at your reaction. “Dank Farrik! Din! Don’t- don’t do that!” you swat at him and huff, finally pulling off the cloth. He chuckles quietly and waits for reaction. Your eyes widen at the crate full of flowers, the scent overwhelming your nose and the vibrant colors blinding your sight. “Oh, stars,” you mutter and reach out for a bunch, gently caressing one of the petals. “What are these for?”

He shrugs dismissively and looks at Grogu to avoid your adoring gaze. “For you,” he states and bounces the little creature in his arms. You smile widely and look back at the flowers with pure joy, sniffing once again to enjoy the blissful aroma. Grogu squeaks to be let down and Din listens, placing him down. Uncertain of what else to say, he only stands back up and observes you taking in his gift.

“Why though? It’s not my bornday,” you bite your lip attempting to contain your excitement due to receiving such a thing from Din Djarin himself. Over the course of months you’ve got to know this stubborn Mandolorian, you knew expressing himself was one of the hardest things for him to do.

“I know.”

“Then?” you take a step towards him and avert your eyes toward the flowers once more.

He exhales and purses his lips, searching his mind for words to put together. “To thank you,” he trails off and notices your look of encouragement for him to keep going. “For everything you’ve done for Grogu and I. For me,” he adds and cringes at his weak explanation. “Look, you mean a lot to the kid, and me. Besides giving you some of my credits, my sleeping quarters, food and—” he begins to list off things he provides you with which should be a given, especially since he asked you to come along. You raise both your eyebrows in unamusement and cross your arms, tilting your head at him. He couldn’t hold back a grin at your sudden attitude and shakes his head. “I wanted to thank you for everything you do, with flowers. Because, they’re. Uh, flowers.”

You press your lips together and nod in acknowledgement, restraining yourself from insulting him like you usually did. For once, you believed this wasn’t the time to. You briefly avert your eyes back and forth between him and the flowers and decide to show him your thanks as well. You jump into his arms and hug him tightly, or at least attempt to hug him with his bulky clad of armor on.

“Oof,” he mutters and freezes up at your unexpected actions, unsure of what to do.

“Hug me back, laser brain,” you grumble.

He feels an unfamiliar discomfort in his stomach, his heart beginning to quicken and his cheeks starting to warm up. In disbelief of this feeling, something he begins to remember he hasn’t felt in a long time, he smiles at the thought. He hugs you back, pulls you close and rests his chin upon your shoulder while wrapping his arms around your waist gingerly. “Thank you,” he mumbles softly.

taglist + inbox link under the cut! thanks for reading ツ

leave a comment, give me some feedback pls! it’s greatly appreciated mwah

click here for the taglist form

tagging some mutuals! @sunsetholland @opheliacult @greenorangevioletgrass @poestardust @buckysbeloved @dcisyquakes @florenepughs @marvelinsanity @hollandcrush @spideyspeaches @calltothewild-blog @eusuntgroot @emmastarz @peterbenjiparker @earthlyholland @etherealsanakin

@musicalkeys-blog @angelsvoice1love @wdwsworld @uvedoneitagainqueen @awesomefanficlover @theliterarymess @lillucyandthejets @smiithys @shadowdixon27 @thehumanistsdiary @thegirlintheswivelchair @magicalxdaydream @twinklingholland @pxnkseason @you-aremy-sunshine @shmaptainshada @mandosbitches @theutterlyboredwriter

#kelly's long reads #din djarin #din djarin one shot #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #the mandolorian fanfiction #the mandolorian #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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missmorosis · 3 years

Text

NOW COMPLETE!! masterlist is here!

morosis is now arriving at: 400 followers!

YALL ARE TRYING TO MAKE ME CRY I SWEAR 😭😭 I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU SO SO SO MUCH ITS NOT FUNNY

at this point tumblr is one of the things that keep me going and im so grateful for everyone ive met/will meet~ THANK YOU SO MUCH IM SCREAMING WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE YALL

HUGS AND KISSES FOR ALLLLL!! IF YOU DONT LIKE THOSE,,, HAVE A HIGH FIVE DJJDJRJR

technically im only like halfway done with my 200-350 followers event, SO I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUN TO HAVE A MORE "INTERACTIVE" EVENT!!

this time, you’re writing something rather than me!

OKAY!! i wanted some sort of theme for this event, like my sleepover, sooo everything is a bus ride i came up with this idea at 1am!!

each prompt is a city, and each blurb you write becomes a bus stop in that city! that makes no sense shut up morosis

BASICALLY ill give a couple prompts in a moment for you to choose from!! using one of the prompts below, you write a lil blurb & post it for me to read! make sure you follow all the guidelines!!

ill make a masterlist/bus map at the end of the event!

pick one of these prompts!! either choose a city or a piece of dialogue: your pick!

[on a side note, these city puns took forever to create in my head please give me some creative credit </3]

city 1- los AU-geles (Los Angeles, California)

-> write an AU!! the AU can be literally anything: royalty AU? road trip AU? GO FOR IT!! just as long as it’s not in the canon era hehehe

city 2- lon-DONE (London, England)

-> breakup fic time </3 you can make it an angsty breakup, or a fluffy exes to lovers!

city 3- BRRR-lin (Berlin, Germany)

-> BRR AS IN COLD OKAY what would the character do if you were cold? laugh at you? give you his jacket? take you inside? buy you something warm? POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

city 4- b-ILL-bao (Bilbao, Spain)

-> b-ILL-bao BECAUSE “ILL” AS IN SICK BKJKSDJ- IVE WRITTEN SO MANY SICKFICS ITS NOT FUNNY- but since they're lowkey 99% of all i write, i figured it was your turn to write one!!

here are some whispers on the bus... (dialogue prompts! feel free to use these if you’re more comfy with dialogue prompts hehehe)

passenger 1 says, “You’re an idiot.” another replies, “I’m your idiot.”

passenger 2 says, “Wait. Stand right there, I want to take a picture of you.”

passenger 3 says, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

passenger 4 says, “Can you just hold me for a bit?”

passenger 5 says, “I’m not threatening you!” another replies, “Well I feel pretty darn threatened.”

passenger 6 says, “Can you come over?” another replies, “I’m already here.”

just a couple before we start...

- include a title, genre, summary, and word count!

- put the blurb under the tag "#morosis's 400 followers bus ride"! this is so i can find it when i make a masterlist of all the work!

- tag me when you post it! @/missmorosis so i dont miss it!

- this event is 100% sfw!! i am a minor after all, and i know many of you are as well!

- there is no word limit/genre you need!! do whatever you want, as long as it relates to the prompt in some way! you have complete creative freedom!

- if you plan to write something, please lmk via reblog, ask, dm, or reply! i just want an idea of how many people are actually gonna write something HSHSHD

- this event is for haikyuu and atla!!

- YOU DON’T NEED TO BE “GOOD” AT WRITING OR A WRITING BLOG IN GENERAL!! this is all just for funsies!! trying something new is encouraged!!

everyone is welcome to participate hehe!! send an ask if you have any questions!!

IF NOBODY WRITES ANYTHING, YOU DIDNT SEE THIS

event will last march 22- april 12th*, 11:59pm PST, give or take!

HAVE FUNN!! MWAH MWAH THANK YOU AGAIN!!

*date was updated hehe

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Seasons Change (d.s.) - Cover Me Up

A/N Before I actually start writing this new story, I decided to write this blurb as a sort of pre-prologue. The events in this blurb do directly affect the events in the full story but you do not need to read this in order to read the main fic. Also, please follow the link in bio to add yourself to the taglist for this universe if you wish (unless you selected ‘tag for everything’!)

Summary: Daniel doesn’t want to leave his wife’s bedside. Not when she needs him most.

Warnings: This blurb deals with terminal illnesses, death of loved ones, grief etc.

Title inspired by Cover Me Up by Morgan Wallen

November 15, 2019

The house was quiet. It was usual now to find the silence that rested over the floorboards somewhat peaceful in the air of the small rural town. It was peaceful but it carried the weight of a thousand tonnes over the beams of the roof and the joists of the walls. In a sense, the peaceful quiet was almost suffocating.

With a six-year-old boy, an aspiring hockey player with rambunctious little personality in his small body, it was hard to find moments of quiet. But it felt like over previous month and a half, quiet was the only option. Even the little boy knew this well.

He would come home from school on the bright yellow school bus and run down the long dirt driveway to the white paneled farmhouse near the centre of the property, small Jack Russel Terrier running right beside him the whole way. His backpack bouncing over the material of his navy blue jacket and the tread of his sneakers on the thin gravel seemed to be the only sound in the tiny town.

Despite his obvious eager intent to run home at top speed, he would stop at the garden and pick one of the few flowers remaining before taking the front steps cautiously. He would then stop at the front door and take a breath before reaching for the handle and stepping inside. Daniel, who had been watching the clock like every weekday in the afternoon, was already at the front door when his son came home. He made sure the dog was inside before closing the door behind them and he helped his son to take his backpack off for him.

“How was school, spud?” Daniel asked quietly.

Everything was quiet.

“Good.”

Was always the response; quickly followed by a hopeful,

“How’s Mama?”

“Resting. You can go say hello if you like. Wash your hands first.” Daniel took his son’s jacket and shoes and then watched him hurry up the straight flight of stairs to the second floor. The six-year-old turned right at the top into the main bathroom and he heard the tap turn on.

With the school things tucked away in the front closet, Daniel headed back upstairs too and stepped into the master bedroom to the left of the stairs right behind his son.

“There’s my boy.” a soft voice greeted from the queen size bed just around the corner from the door as the little one climbed up onto the soft mattress.

Daniel leaned on the corner of the wall and watched the mother greet her son with the best smile she could offer him. Marigold was always like that; always smiling. She was rested back against a few down filled pillows under the cream coloured quilt and brushed her son’s messy brown hair out of his eyes.

“How was school, my darling boy?” she asked him like she did every weekday afternoon.

“Good.”

Was always the response. He held out the flower to her with his mother’s same smile.

“I picked you a flower, Mama.”

“Well, aren’t you as sweet as sugar?” Marigold tisked with a smile and took it from him to give it a little sniff. “Just like your Daddy, aren’t you, Lennox Blake?”

Six-year-old Lennox was just as in love with his mother as his father was and every time he looked at her, little hearts nearly floated in his light blue eyes.

“Are you better, Mama?” Lennox asked, like every day.

Marigold held his face in her hand that wasn’t taken by the small flower, “Not yet, sweet boy. I think I need some more of your magical hugs to see if that will help.”

Lennox grinned and nodded, shifting closer quickly.

“Gently, spud.” Daniel reminded softly from where he stood watching.

“He’s okay.” Marigold assured her husband softly, welcoming her son’s small body on top of hers with a smile and a slightly strained sigh. She twirled her fingers through his messy hair and kissed the top of his head, “I missed you so much today.”

Daniel walked around to her side of the bed and picked up her still-filled water glass before leaning down to kiss her dry lips, “Want me to put your pretty flower in a vase for you?”

Lennox smiled proudly at the offer and Marigold agreed with a small smile, holding out the small flower to her husband to take downstairs. With two hands free, she could hold her little boy more securely now and drew those little patterns over his back that he always liked, watching her melancholy husband leave to put the flower in a little glass of water for her and to start dinner preparation, petting the cat sleeping on the end of the bed on his way past.

Marigold didn’t know what she would have done if she didn’t have Daniel. She was a young woman of twenty-seven, in love with her high school sweetheart, and happened to be served the worst of life in the prior month and a half. Despite her diagnosis, he didn’t falter for a moment; he tended to her day in and day out as she got sicker and still treated her just as sweetly as he had on their very first date. She was the love of his life. What else was he supposed to do?

With Lennox upstairs telling Marigold all about his day, Daniel hurried around the kitchen to make dinner. He decided on a simple vegetable soup – something easy…he hated being too far from Marigold for too long – and set the three bowls on a tray with the flower in a glass of water with them. He set the tray on the top of the dresser in the master bedroom and helped to get Lennox sitting up in the middle of the bed with a pillow helping to prop him up before he passed him the half-filled bowl and a spoon.

“What do you say?” Marigold whispered.

Lennox smiled cheekily up at his father, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re very welcome, spud.” Daniel replied with a half smile.

He took his own bowl off the tray and set it to the side so he could bring the last one over to his wife. She glanced up at him silently as he set the tray over her lap. Their eyes lingered on each other’s for a moment as if they were having a silent conversation just the two of them as their son ate quietly beside them.

“Still not hungry?” Daniel asked ever so quietly.

Marigold shook her head gently.

Daniel hesitated for a moment but nodded and exchanged a kiss for the tray back. He set it on the dresser and set his own bowl beside the other before joining his little family on the bed. He wasn’t hungry either.

With Lennox eating contently between his parents, they watched him peacefully, Daniel’s arm draped around him and his fingers twirling the end of Marigold’s long hair through his fingers. They raised their little boy with the best manners so being able to eat in a bed and not at a table was quite exciting for Lennox. To the six-year-old, his mother simply had a cold and needed to stay in bed until she got better. He still saw the smiles she gave him and the warmth of her hugs and even though the house was quieter than it once was, he was sure it would be lively again.

After dinner, Daniel got Lennox bathed and dressed into pyjamas and sat him on the floor of the master bedroom to watch some TV before bed. With the boy distracted, Daniel tended to his wife; shifting the pillows behind her to have her resting down a bit more and felt her forehead for any sign of a fever. He picked up the chapstick from the bedside table and popped off the cap to apply a layer or two to her dry lips. Marigold watched him quietly, his furrowed brows and solemn blue eyes and careful steady hand that traced her familiar lips.

“You’re going to give yourself wrinkles, my sweet.” Marigold whispered with an ever so light chuckle, reaching up a dainty hand to smooth the creases between his eyebrows. “Don’t want to age that pretty face of yours too soon now.”

Daniel only stared at her for a moment, still leaned in close from having applied her well used chapstick and he offered a weak shrug and a dull, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Daniel.” Marigold sighed quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Daniel mumbled, bowing his head for a moment. He leaned in again, kissing her lips twice and then her nose once and her cheek before standing up straight and put the chapstick away. She smiled faintly at him and reached up a careful hand to dust over the thin material of his white button-up that was rolled to the elbows. It was open and he had a white tank top on underneath tucked into black jeans. She liked him like that; casual and effortlessly handsome.

The TV played on quietly in the background and Lennox sat on the rug with the family dog sleeping his head on his lap. The six-year-old adored the pup…he truly was this boy’s best friend. Marigold smiled lovingly across the room at her unaware boy, his brown hair plastered wet over his head and he sat slouched slightly on the floor as he watched his evening show. Daniel brought the dishes downstairs and tidied up the kitchen a little before returning to his family and switched off the TV.

“Daaad.” Lennox whined.

“Come on….story time with Mommy.” Daniel said softly, picking up the puppy from his lap so his son could climb back on the bed.

Lennox crawled up next to her and plopped himself down and pulled the quilt over his small legs. Marigold smiled and tucked her arm around her son so he was cuddled right up close to her side. With the hand that wasn’t holding the dog, Daniel passed over their favourite storybook to read – well, at least Marigold’s favourite. She bought it within the first month she found out she was pregnant, far too excited, and I Love You Forever sat front and center on the bookshelf in the nursery for all of Lennox’s young life. She had read it to him so much the spine was creased and a few pages a couple rips along the edges but they didn’t mind.

Daniel sat down with them and the dog curled himself up beside the cat the end of the bed while the family of three cuddled up together for a bedtime story. Marigold read quietly, her voice fading as the story came to an end and she coughed lightly as she closed the book gently. Lennox smiled up at her.

“One more?” he asked sweetly.

“No, no. It’s bedtime, sweet boy.” Marigold chuckled, pressing a kiss to his head.

Lennox nodded obediently.

She smiled gently at him and pet her hand over his damp hair, “I love you.”

“I love you this much!” Lennox threw out his arms wide, almost hitting Daniel in the face.

Marigold laughed weakly at their son and took his small hand in hers to pull him close and he cuddled up against her chest. She looked down at him and his tired blue eyes that were already starting to close from just being in her arms. She brushed her finger along his chubby cheek and gave it a little squish, “I love you more than all the flowers in the garden…and all the buggies in the fields…and all the leaves on the trees…”

With the little boy fading in his mother’s arms, it was time for bed. Marigold gave her son one last good night kiss to his soft cheek.

“Sweet dreams, my darling boy.”

Daniel scooped him up and Lennox gave her a sleepy wave from his father’s shoulder before he was carried down the hall to bed, the puppy rushing after them. His nightlight was switched on and Daniel made sure to tuck him nice and secure under his quilt like every night and the dog was left on his small pillow under the window. The book was placed back on the shelf and Daniel brought over Lennox’s favourite stuffed bear to cuddle with and tucked it in his arms.

He crouched down at his son’s bedside and brushed his large hand over Lennox’s small head, keeping his hair back from his face. Lennox blinked sleepily at him, cuddled up with his teddy bear.

“I love you.” the little boy yawned.

“I love you, spud.” Daniel whispered. He leaned in to kiss his head before standing up, “Sweet dreams.”

The door was shut behind him and Daniel lingered in the hallway for a moment. The window at the end of the hall sent streaks of moonlight over the hardwood and Daniel hadn’t even realized the sun had set. Days were blending into each other, hours were passing by too quickly, and Daniel felt like his life was dwindling right before his eyes. He could try to catch it – try to reach out and grasp what time he had left but it was inevitable. It was terminal.

Daniel returned to the master bedroom and closed the door behind him as to not wake his son. It wasn’t like there was going to be much noise at all in the silent house but it was habit. Marigold smiled tiredly at him from their bed and he walked around to her side to pet a hand through her hair. She leaned into his touch.

“Do you want a bath, sunshine?” Daniel asked softly.

Marigold just blinked tiredly up at him, her cheek resting heavily in the palm of his hand, “No, thank you.”

“Can I wash your face at least?”

“If you insist.”

Daniel stepped into the ensuite and ran a sink of lukewarm water to dampen a facecloth. He returned to her bedside and sat down with her to wipe her face gently with the cloth to help her feel somewhat put together. He usually helped her bathe every second day – every day if she was feeling up for it – and changed the sheets as often as he could to keep her fresh and comfortable. He was a good man.

Marigold’s face was wiped clean the best it could be by her husband’s gentle hand. He sat back from her and she rested her hand on his arm.

“Thank you.”

Daniel set his hand over hers, “What else can I get you, sunshine?”

Marigold thought for a moment and she sighed, “I think have to pee.”

Daniel nodded and stood up from the side of the bed to drop the facecloth back in the ensuite. He gently peeled back the quilt and the sheets and made sure her nightgown was down around her knees before sliding his hands around her back and helped to sit her up. She clung onto him weakly and he slowly shifted her legs off the side of the bed.

“Can you stand?” Daniel asked softly.

“Think so.” Marigold whispered. She held onto his arms as he helped to ease her up out of bed.

When she was standing, mostly using him to lean on as he held her up, Daniel noticed the wet patch in the bed.

His pause had her sighing, “It happened again?”

“Yeah.” Daniel said. “I’ll change the sheets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Mari.” Daniel pulled over the usual wooden chair to her bedside and helped to ease her into it. It was one from the kitchen table but over the prior month or so it found its usual home in the corner of the master bedroom, only usually used by Daniel to sit with his wife as often as he could. With her sitting, he shooed the cat off the bed and worked quickly to strip the bed and change the padding on the mattress that was recommended by the doctors. He grabbed the extra sheets from the linen closet in the hallway and worked quickly to remake the bed for her.

Marigold watched him, her brows furrowed lightly as if in thought. She spoke quietly, “Is Lennox home from school yet?”

Daniel didn’t look up as he tucked the corner of the sheets under the mattress and answered his wife softly, “Yeah. He’s already in bed.”

Marigold nodded weakly.

When the bed was remade, he took an extra nightgown and pair of comfortable underwear from the dresser drawer for her and set them on the bed so he could change her out of her damp clothes. She raised her arms the best she could and Daniel shimmied her nightgown over her head and dropped it to the floor before carefully easing her out of her soiled underwear. They stayed silent as he re-dressed her and Marigold clung onto him as he shifted her hips to get her underwear up her legs and as he pulled her fresh white nightgown over her head and made sure her hair was out of the neckline. He pressed his palm to her forehead to feel her temperature. She seemed fine.

Daniel held her arms in his hands and eased her up out of the wooden chair. They stood chest to chest, Marigold having to look up at him slightly, and they just stared at each other for a moment. Illness seemed to age her from her twenty-six years, but she was still the same sweet young woman Daniel fell in love with across the high school gymnasium. He raised one hand to her cheek and brushed his thumb over her skin.

“Will you dance with me, Mari?” he asked ever so softly, caressing her cheek with the back of his finger.

“Dance with you?” she chuckled tiredly. “I can try.”

Daniel smiled lightly and led her around from the side of the bed to the center of their room, making sure she took each step carefully. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened the music app to select their song. The gentle guitar melody filled the room and Daniel set the phone on the fireplace mantle to give him two hands free. Despite her pain, Marigold was smiling at him, letting him raise her arms to his shoulders and he wrapped his right around her waist to help hold her up.

“You okay?” he whispered behind the introductory music.

She nodded and she pursed out her lips to get him to dip down and kiss her. As the lyrics started, she rested her tired head on his shoulder and let him lead, rocking them back and forth slowly in place in the middle of their bedroom by moonlight. She was almost limp in his arms although she tried her best to move with him, her bare feet shuffling slightly underneath her as they swayed.

So girl, leave your boots by the bed,

We ain't leaving this room

'Til someone needs medical help

Or the magnolias bloom

It's cold in this house and I ain't going out to chop wood

So cover me up and know you're enough

To use me for good

They danced often; usually Marigold would insist and drag Daniel away from whatever he was doing to have a quick dance in the kitchen or in the garden whenever the music from the radio hit her. Daniel wasn’t much of a dancer but there was something about Marigold’s contagious dimpled grin that always convinced him.

She truly was his sunshine, always dancing or singing or smiling whenever she could…the light of his life. Her spark was in their son too with her same smile and ability to pull Daniel from his shell. Lennox was the perfect mix of both of them and it broke their hearts that trying for a second baby was the beginning of the end. They had years worth of plans; things to do and places to visit and songs to dance to. They were each other’s person…just with not enough time.

Marigold’s hands tightened on the back of Daniel’s shirt, eyes falling closed as she let the music move them slowly around the rug of their room. He held her up, one arm around her waist and the other petting her hair as he let his breaths fall calmly against her neck, listening to the gentle song and the words that spoke too close to his heart.

Daniel whispered them to her, “But home was a dream, one that I'd never seen, 'til you came along”

So girl, hang your dress out to dry

We ain't leaving this room

'Til Percy Priest breaks open wide

And the river runs through

And carries this house on its stones

Like a piece of driftwood

So cover me up and know you're enough

To use me for good

“Dani.”

He paused their dancing for a moment as the quiet music played on from the mantle and glanced down at his wife, “What is it, Mari?”

“I’m…” she struggled to take a breath, “I’m really tired.”

“Okay, sunshine, I got you.” Daniel whispered and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He crouched down ever so slightly to lift her up in his arms, carrying her slowly back to bed as she kept her hands around his neck.

You knew it was serious when Marigold asked to stop dancing.

He laid her in bed as the song played on in the background and tucked the blankets up around her. He pressed a hand to her forehead and then to her cheek when he found her a little cold.

“Do you want the fire on?”

“Yes please.” Marigold whispered, blinking tiredly up at him. “And a sweater?”

Daniel let the song play through as he knelt down in front of the fireplace across the rom and took a few pieces of chopped wood from the basket next to it to light a fire. With a match lit and tossed in, the kindling caught flame easily and soon the room was filling with comfortable heat and a warm glow. Daniel returned to his wife’s bedside with one of his hoodies in hand and helped slide her arms into it and tucked it around her thin body before he sat himself down in the wooden chair as the song ended and the room fell back into perfect silence.

Marigold’s smaller and frailer hands fit into both of Daniel’s larger ones with ease and he rubbed his thumbs over her dry skin, his fingers callused from years of farm work, hockey practice, and guitar. His skin was rough but all too familiar and Marigold smiled weakly up at him from where she laid in bed. The moonlight that shone brighter through their bedroom window at the back of the house illuminated her thin face with the warm light of her bedside table lamp and Daniel stared at her silently. Their nights consisted of that now; lingering eye contact and hand holding, as if they hadn’t had enough of each other over the last eight years.

Her hair didn’t shimmer beautiful blonde like it used to, in fact, her whole appearance felt faded. It almost was as if she was from an old movie, drowned out in sepia and black and white until her tones and shades were as plain as the cream coloured sheets she laid in. The pillows were covered in tangled waves of her long hair and Daniel brushed the strands from her face with a gentle touch before raising her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Marigold’s dry lips fought to smile slightly at him and she ran her finger over his wedding ring that was set on his left hand.

“What are you smiling at?” Daniel asked softly.

“You.” she answered with ease. “My sweet Daniel.”

He kissed her hand again, letting his lips linger there a moment longer before resting his cheek down. Her fingers were cold against his flushed face and he just held her there to try and keep her warm, staring up at her.

“I love you.” Daniel whispered.

“I love you so much.” Marigold breathed.

She inhaled a little, struggling to catch her breath for a moment, and Daniel kissed her fingers one by one before resting them against his cheek again. They didn’t speak for a moment, just staring at each other with nothing but heartache adoration. It was as if they both knew.

Marigold weakly traced the shape of Daniel’s hands as he simply kept his eyes on her pale face, humming the tune to their song. Each line and callous over his skin was home to her touch, the veins on the back of his hand and the ring on his finger were part of her too. Daniel swore Marigold lived in him since they had their first kiss in the back of his pickup truck all those years ago. She was a part of his body, his heart, and his soul.

He sat with her as the minutes ticked by and the moon rose higher in the dark night sky, carefully watching each of her shallow shuttering inhales and rocky exhales. His soft voice filled their bedroom, singing to her quietly through the night. Midnight came and went and Daniel didn’t move from the chair at her bedside, his heart racing in his chest and his voice quivering slightly as he sang to her. His head rested down on her stomach and she weakly brushed her fingers through his sun-kissed brown hair. He could hear her heartbeat with his ear pressed to her body and it was slow and faint. His lyrics faltered for a moment and he sat up from her again.

“Marigold.” Daniel breathed.

She licked her dry lips and her cold hand fell into his, offering him a weak, “What is it, my sweet?”

“Mari…I…” Daniel’s blue eyes brimmed with tears but he didn’t dare let a single one fall.

Not when she was laying in front of him with death on her shoulder.

Daniel took a deep breath, “I…I don’t know what to do.”

Marigold nodded gently, her own light eyes brimming with tears, and she linked her pinky with his, “I know.”

He rested his elbows on his knees and held her hand in his against his lips, “I love you so much.”

“I’ve loved you enough for five lifetimes.” Marigold whispered.

He waited with her. He sat at her bedside and held her hands and sang to her quietly and let the minutes tick by, only praying for more. More moments to see her smile, more seconds to hear her laugh, more minutes to feel the soil softened texture of her skin. Time was slipping from him. Time was a landslide and he watched the world fade from the bright eyes of the love of his life day by day. He could hold onto her as tightly as he could but there was no mercy to be spared. His one true love was dying. And there was nothing he could do to save her.

Her breathing was starting to rattle slightly and her chest shuttered with each inhale. Daniel sang to her quietly, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek before holding both her hands in his. Marigold had tears in her eyes and she trembled sightly, not tearing her eyes from her husband.

“I got you.” Daniel whispered, shuffling closer to her bedside so she could feel more of his presence. “I’m right here.”

He held her hands and sang their song quietly to her as her breathing slowed and she grew weaker. The fire crackled soothingly from across the room and the moon shone brightly through the window overlooking the star sprinkled garden.

It was quarter to three am when Marigold’s chest fell still.

Daniel’s whispered singing faded out as his eyes dropped to her hand falling limp in his. He looked back up at her face, her eyes half closed and focused on him but unmoving.

“Mari?” Daniel breathed, giving her hand a little squeeze.

She was unresponsive.

“M-Marigold?” his voice broke.

The house was quiet. Far more quiet than Daniel was used to.

Daniel’s next breath ached his chest, burned his throat, and broke his heart. He lifted up Marigold’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her cold skin. At least they had their last dance.

He swallowed back his tears desperately, trying to convince himself that it was expected and he had the last month and a half to prepare…but how can you truly prepare to become a widow? Daniel pulled his phone from his pocket as he stood up from the chair and stood by the window overlooking the darkened gardens of their acreage as he dialled the funeral home as told. It was closed at barely 3am so Daniel left a message. When the line beeped, he couldn’t find his words for a moment.

Saying it out loud made it real.

“Hi this is Daniel…Daniel Seavey…it’s around 3am…” he checked the time, “2:49am…and…I was told to call when my wife…when…when my wife…”

Daniel looked back towards the bed and forced himself to breathe before focussing back out the window into the darkness.

“…when she passed.” Daniel swallowed thickly and bowed his head. “Give me a call when you open and come to…retrieve her…I’ll…I’ll meet you at the door. Thanks.”

Daniel hung up and slid his phone back in his pocket and leaned his forehead against the cool window with a trembling sigh. He had promised Marigold many times since her diagnosis that he would be brave for her and no shut down but holy shit he felt like his heart was shattering right out of his chest. He took a moment to breathe, to try and keep his emotions at bay which wasn’t easy especially being sleep deprived and exhausted, but forced himself to face the bed again. Marigold laid still.

Daniel walked over and tucked her arms under the blankets and brushed her long hair out of her face. She looked like she was sleeping if it wasn’t for the pale complexion of her face and the cool touch of her skin.

The house was perfectly quiet as Daniel stepped out into the hallway and took the stairs slowly but surly. He fed the cat and started the laundry and busied himself in the silence that rang in his ears. He felt like he was dreaming, floating, gliding around the house as he turned off the lights and locked the front door but left the porch light on for the funeral directors to arrive after sunrise.

Daniel found himself in the doorway of his son’s room, watching the six-year-old sleep soundly and peacefully, unbothered by the world. He had thought about it for the last month or so; how he was going to tell Lennox that his mother died and was never coming back. That would be one of the hardest things Daniel would ever have to do in his life.

With Lennox left sleeping, Daniel closed the door again and returned to his own room. He smothered the fire and closed the curtains and busied himself with getting changed into his pyjamas. He only really made it halfway: sliding on a pair of plaid lounge pants and shrugging off his button up before his body physically couldn’t hold back anymore. His sudden sob startled him and Daniel pressed a hand to his mouth to keep from possibly waking his son in the next room.

He turned off the bedroom lights and climbed into bed through his blurring tears and shuffled up close to his wife. She was cold and limp but he was heartbroken and all he wanted to do was hold her one last time. So Daniel curled his arm around her waist and nuzzled his face in her neck to try and encompass himself in the familiarity of her. His tears dripped down his cheeks and into the soft fabric of his hoodie that she still wore and he clung onto the material and cried until he was sure he was drowning in his tears.

With his son asleep peacefully nearby, Daniel forced himself into silence; weeping and whimpering through strangled gasps that he smothered into the shoulder of his sweater, wrapped around his wife. He knew it wasn’t his fault and that there was nothing he could have done differently to save her, but he still cried out a pathetic, “I’m sorry” into her neck, stroking her hair and almost hoping to will her back to life.

The farmhouse was quiet, their property was quiet, and the entire small town of Lincoln seemed to be perfectly silent as the minutes ticked by, the hours blended into each other, and Daniel cried the orange sun above the horizon. The small yellow marigold flower sat wilted in the cup on the nightstand.

Seasons Change Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21

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#🌼#daniel seavey #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #why dont we imagines #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines #writing

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harryforvogue · 2 years

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ok so can i just say one thing…

i’ve been following u for a while maybe about 2 years and when i first came on here i read about faye and mia cause they’re popular gals so i read their stories and extras and tags and fell in love with them and i’m like yeah i won’t love anyone like i love them many hugs and kisses for them 😘😘😘😘😘

…. but then i come across this miriam girl…. with her beautiful shy introverted bf and i EAT THAT SHIT UPPPP! like gobble them down read everything i can about these two babies and i put them in my pocket to keep them safe 💛

and now we have lucía and harry… hoe my god…… girlie i love them i love them i love them! i’m so happy they found their way back together they were made for each other and harry deserves all the jokes and teasing from his dad cause my man really gave lucía a front row seat to her nightmare 👊🏼💢 but all is forgive as long as he gives her lots of kisses and lets her lay on his tummy allllll dayyyyyyy 💛

and then… who’s this fierce french girl trying to save her marriage with her broken war husband???? ummmm maybe i’ll take a peek… 👀 BRO i read that whole story in two days and I LOVE THEMMMM YOU WROTE THEM SO BEAUTIFULLY AND THEIR LOVE WAS JUST SOOOO IDK NO WORDS AND HOW THEY WORK THROUGH HIS TRAUMA & HER HEARTACHE AND CAME OUT STRONG IN THE END yup go into my pocket little babies i will keep u safe ☺️

and i’m like yeah how can all these stories be good???? it doesn’t make sense but i’m just gonna fan girl over these ones i’ve read about cause no one will compare….

but then i read about yasmine…. 🙂 I FUCKING LOVE THEM!! THEY ARE MY FAVORITE! their little bickering and making eyes across the classroom????? ate it up! the way they’re so vulnerable and precious behind closed doors and yasmine doesn’t even acknowledge his existence in public??? perfection lmao yasmine & harry i will keep you safe in my pocket with the rest of them thank you very much

and safiyya and harry???????? i didn’t expect to love them so much too but sarah you do it every time i don’t know why i still doubt you and your ability to make me fall in love with everyone you write!!! their story was so beautiful and unique and i absolutely love their beautiful family 🥺 they go to the bottom of the pocket cause if anyone even THINKS about being mean to them i’ll mess up 🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️ i will protect this family w my life

and then i read the cottagecore life i’ve been dreaming of…. miss nisha you lucky lucky girl 💕 how i wish i had a hard working uni boy who lived across the street who worked too hard so i so make him pies and bring him fresh fruit and veggies from my farm?????? UM YEAH PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!!!!!

now now now now fleur……….. harry….. does it get any hotter than them???? me personally thinks NOT! the sexy sexual tension is SO hot! like all i can think about is how bad ass they are together and that they’re SO HOT LMAO i love them no one better hurt them in my pocket you go cause i have to keep you crazy spies safe 🤗

and i just finished reading about serena and harry!!! 10/10 love them and how much they joke around even tho they just met!!! like serena telling h she was staying in the hospital cause they have amputate her finger had me ctfu they were so comfort with each other off the back and their love was so easy and effortless 👏🏼 love love love in my pocket you go as well

in conclusion, i fell in love with the way you took harry and gave him 10 different unique personalities and then matched him with the perfect girl your beautiful brain thought of!! and not only did you make a story for these 10 couples but you add more and more life to them daily with every extra blurb or answering questions about them. i really truly appreciate what you’re doing this month cause i pushed me to read your stories which i’ve been hesitant to read(also i have fomo and didn’t want to miss out on all the fun and discussions lol) BUT seriously you deserve all the kisses and hand massages and love for what you’re doing!!! ty x10000000000 and can’t wait to read what you put out for the rest of the month and everything that follows 💕

i read this twice. and i think my brother is looking over my shoulder JSJSJSJWJW

what the fuck because….. what the fuck

they are in your pocket and they are SO fucking happy to be there. it’s important to me that you know what this means to me. every fucking thing.

you are fucking amazing. you are EVERYTHING. THANK YOU FOR GIVING THEM ALL A CHANCE BECAUSE I KNOW SOME OF THEM ARENT PEOPLE’S CUP OF TEA LIKE SERENA AND HARRY! i totally totally get that. and even w harry and lucía: i get that a first person narrative isnt what people normally like to read. i know oc aren’t what people normally read.

SO THANK YOU for giving them a try AND for loving them!!!

if i didn’t have this support on tumblr, i don’t think i would write. like genuinely, because i don’t have this support from my family and i’m with my family 24/7. so you really have no idea how much this encourages me

#keep #SMOOCHES FOR YOUUUU

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trans-cuchulainn · 3 years

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What are the major details that confused you about the Hound blurb? The major one that stood put to me was the "way of the farmer opposed to the sword" thing which felt very...un-Cú Chulainn. Also, if you don't mind expanding further, which details didn't you question/be confused by?

and also for anon:

okay so it is like. 2am so there are not going to be any sources here but i can't sleep so here goes!! i will go through this blurb line by line and give youse my thoughts

In 50 BCE,

reasonable. this is roughly the right time period for when the ulster cycle is set. maybe marginally earlier than i'd place cú chulainn, but i'm talking a few years, nothing to get worked up about.

Morrigan, the goddess of war,

fine. normally i'm wary of pantheonising impulses with regard to irish characters (almost none of them can be identified as a god of anything in particular, it doesn't work like that) but tbh the morrigan is like, the most plausible exception to that, so whatever. normally her name has the definite article attached to it because it's kind of a species term as well but whatevs.

has become restless as a long-lasting peace settles over Ireland.

dubious. closest i can think of to peace being reference in any texts is togail bruidne da derga talking about conaire mor's reign being like, prosperous and peaceful and whatever, and even there you've got díberg (plundering/reaving) which is what eventually fucks him over and starts the otherworldly hell spiral situation. that's roughly the right period here but conaire's doom proves you don't have to do much to nudge peace into war, and connacht and ulster are at each other's throats for years before cú chulainn comes on the scene anyway

Deciding the time of peace must end, she chooses Setanta, the nephew of the king of the north, to become her ward.

hmm. i mean. like, this isn't the WEIRDEST choice they could have made. it's still completely made-up, don't get me wrong -- cú chulainn has a lot of different foster parents in different texts and they don't agree with each other but none of them ever mentions the morrígan. but like, they do have a connection of some sort, as evidenced by their conversations. and there's that one moment in the r1 boyhood deeds where little cú chulainn is out on the battlefield and hears her (not sure which name is used here) calling out to him and it like. motivates him to do some deeds or whatever, and i guess you could extrapolate that into some kind of teaching capacity.

so like. could be weirder. if you're gonna pick anyone, you could do worse. still seems weird to me! but not on its own a major issue, i could get past this and consider it a Fun But Unorthodox Creative Decision

(the fact that she tries to seduce him in the táin probably wouldn't get in the way of this considering sleeping with his teachers/foster-mothers is far from unheard of where cú chulainn is concerned)

After a young Setanta slays the demon-hound of Cullan, he becomes known as Cú Cullan—The Hound of Cullan.

weird spelling choices, they could have at least bothered to use the genitive properly. also the hound isn't a demon, it's a ferocious watchdog -- making it sound all Otherworldly and Hellish like this kinda confuses the issue of why he would need to take its place. he needs to take its place because the cattle and people still need protecting because it is a watchdog!! but whatevs, again, it's a brief summary so they can't exactly give us all the details and this is not actively objectionable

As Cú Cullan grows older, it is apparent that an extraordinary power lies within him … and a great darkness.

ugh boring. this makes it sound like he's going to be ~tortured~ and angsty about it. give me an unapologetic murder teen please. is the ríastrad dark? sure i guess, if you're going to be boring about it. it's more like, grotesque neon in my head

When he chooses the quiet life of a farmer over the sword,

this would fucking never happen on like five different levels. obviously like anyone who has ever read anything about cú chulainn can see that this is not in his nature. he is never going to choose a quiet life. this is the kid who tricked his way into taking arms before everyone thought he was ready. also juxtaposed with the "darkness" comment makes it sound like he would Angst his way into this quiet life which. again. have you seen this kid. he is an unapologetic murder teen

the only thing i can think of that might make him temporarily want to walk away is connla's death which... depends where you position that in the timeline really, he does seem a bit fucked up by it and maybe he'd want a holiday although i can see that lasting precisely 5 minutes before someone pissed him off enough for him to murder them. but if he's being raised by the morrígan i can't see him going to train with scáthach so then he'd never meet aífe and therefore connla would never be born so that wouldn't happen. so like. whatever.

but also like. he would not become a farmer. he just wouldn't! it doesn't work! the ireland of the stories is super hierarchical, right? and this blurb has already fucking told us that he's the king's nephew (canon) so we can tell that being a farmer is Not His Place. when we see upper class figures becoming menial labourers in texts, like in cath maige tuired, it's because Things Are Fucked, Shit's Gone Wrong. people don't just decide to change their entire social class on a whim lmfao

if cú chulainn really wanted to turn his back on being a warrior he could probably make recourse to certain other Suitable Professions ... his grandad's a druid so he might have a route into that, though his dad's not so that might fuck things up a bit bc it's one of those things that's usually inherited. he does give "wisdom" in at least one text though and we also know he can write (he carves riddles in ogham in the táin) and he composes verses on various occasions so idk, maybe something in a poetic direction, though again, usually requires two generations of inheritance to be a real poet and not just a lower-class bard. warrior's kinda the main thing he's got open to him tbh. but farming? i'm not a legal expert but as far as i'm aware based on what i have read, that would fuck shit up

more likely an upset cú chulainn would just go off in search of an adventure somewhere conveniently far away until he'd calmed down (alba, or the tyrrhenian sea, or -- if we're going to get early modern about it -- somewhere like india, which frequently gets thrown into the texts with absolutely no cultural context and it's always hilarious)

Morrigan, angry at the betrayal,

of the entire social order, yes,

instigates an invasion of his homeland

i mean. if they intend this to be the táin then.... táin bó regamna does kinda make the morrígan responsible for it? not in the sense of triggering the pillow talk argument that it's in the book of leinster -- it's her getting up to her usual cow-nicking behaviours for shits and giggles. [note to readers: it is probably for more than shits and giggles but did i mention it's 2am]

but all in all, not particularly out of character that she would be at least some way responsible for this so i can vibe with this. echtra nerai also supports the TBR explanation with her fucking around with otherworldly cows and pissing people off so, yeah, whatever. the morrígan engineered this. sure.

and Cú Cullan must challenge fate itself

this is probably a controversial stance but fate feels like a difficult concept to apply to medieval irish texts. like are people sometimes Doomed? yes. there are prophecies, there are gessi, there's all manner of otherworldly fuckery that can trip you up. is that the same thing as fate? no idea. considering cú chulainn comes out alive from the táin though and his doom prophecies don't catch up to him for like, at least another decade, maybe 16 years depending on who you listen to, hard to see how that would apply here

to keep the goddess at bay.

again like she IS causing fuckery in the táin but also it's like... one time. really not the main character. but she or maybe just some crows, hard to say, do get implicated in the death tale so maybe they're doing what people often do and conflating the two? even though there's like 10-16 years in between them?

anyway as you can see i don’t think it’s wholly terrible / i’m not completely thinkshaming it. like, having cú chulainn raised by the morrígan is unorthodox but it could be a fun and creative direction so i don't object to it. making cú chulainn get sad about murder and choose to be a farmer is just fucking laughable tho, and makes me doubt their characterisations in general. so that's offputting and would probably make me think twice about buying it, if that had ever been on the cards.*

and of course sure, their cú chulainn can be a Sad Boy Who Likes Sheep, but that means he's not the cú chulainn of medieval irish lit / irish myth, because that cú chulainn is a feral murder teen who keeps killing his friends and also is way too high social status to ever be a farmer, and whose only relationship to livestock is as the watchdog who kills anyone trying to harm them (which is an important role on a farm! but like. not the same thing as Being A Farmer. mostly because it involves more murder and is essentially just an extension of his role as a warrior. or rather the other way around. he promises to protect mag muirthemne as a watchdog and this like. gets extended into him becoming its sole defender)

this has been my analysis of this blurb i hope you enjoyed it

it's now 2.30am i should try and sleep now that i've exorcised a few thoughts from my head

*as i mentioned in the tags of my other post, i don't tend to read graphic novels due to disability stuff. they're much harder for me to understand and follow than prose, to the point where some are incomprehensible, so i don't really enjoy them. there are a few i've read, but they tend to be short ones, and i'm usually not reading them in order, just admiring the art separately from the text. so it's unlikely i would read a graphic novel of this size anyway.

#cu chulainn #hound #hound graphic novel #answered #oddnub-eye #anonymous #irish mythology #medieval irish #tain bo cuailnge

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writinglionqueen · 3 years

Text

Not Yet

“You ever dealt with a brat before?” you asked Drew from where you were lying in bed, a small pant to your words. The man in question was at the end of the bed, collecting all the ropes he had used on you just minutes ago. Hell, the collar you wore was still wrapped around your throat. Its black leather was sticky with your sweat.

“Not if I can avoid it,” Drew answered as he tied the rope together to keep it in a neat bundle before he tossed it into the duffle he always carried. You found out after a little while that it contained some interesting items in it. “I don’t typically like brats. But you’re a special case.”

That made you perk up from your skewed position on the bed.

“How so?” You asked, curiously. Because the last time you checked, you had been nothing but bratty to the Scotsman. But somehow...you were something of interest....an idea you lusted after. The ideology of being special a man like Drew. And that man noticed your interest in the topic. It made him smirk.

“Because there’s another level to what we have,” Drew answered. “Brats I’ve met before only want to be shown and wrangled into their place. They stay there and they like it. They don’t challenge it, they don’t question it, and they don’t fight it. You, however, even if I put you in your place, you’ll continue to fight it. Figure out why you belong in the position I say you belong in. Though there are days you accept where I put you and you don’t fight me, there are days where it’s more challenging to keep you there...a struggle...a fight. Wrestling that dynamic. And I like that.”

You listened to every word that came from Drew, holding on to each thing he said to piece together why you’re special in the dynamic you two had created. And it made sense.

Drew liked wrestling for control. He liked wrangling for his dominance. He liked the challenge of it all, of figuring out how to keep you in line, put you in your place. Even if he already had before.

Wrestling is just his way of life...in every aspect. From the job you two shared with the WWE to what you two do behind closed doors. And he loved that about the dynamic you two had. There was an aspect of it all....that was just like getting into the ring together. But instead of physical bodies, it was the power and dynamics between the both of you. Hell you two were physical in these little get togethers but it was still the aspect of the dynamic the two of you were starting to figure out.

The fighting.

The power.

The control.

The dynamic you two had was just a wrestling match that hadn’t cease. And that was the thrill of it all. It was something the two of you liked.

The man moved closer to the bed, crawling on top of it until he hovered over your prone body. You didn't move. You didn’t shy away. It didn’t make you blush and it didn’t make you nervous or afraid.

Drew’s blue eyes held a storm within them as they looked to your eyes, as if trying to read your soul and figure you out as if he already hadn’t.

“You challenge me so much, princess,” he murmured. “You fight almost every time we’re together. But it also transpires into our job. From when you tease me at ringside or when we’re backstage that leads up to what we just did. It’s always a fight for me to win over you. And I like it, not because I want to win these little power struggles of ours. I like it for another reason.” One of Drew’s large hands moved up to the collar. His index finger curled in the D-ring of the leather piece, holding onto it. Doing nothing else but hold onto the collar that way. His eyes looked down to the gold tag, the one engraved with the nickname he dubbed for you as well as the more lewd one. Whichever side of the tag he was looking at, you didn’t know. But the tag itself....the symbol on the collar had him murmuring the next line. “You know you’re owned, don’t you?” His blue eyes looked so much brighter when he went back to hold your gaze.

The question made your breath hitch. There was something about fighting his control, his power over you, his....dominance over you...that stirs something in you that made you want to fight it. To fight him. The reason....you couldn’t understand though. The thrill of it all, of being shown your place and knowing you had a little more power than others to challenge that was probably the reason you did this. Or....there was something unspoken in your mind and between the two of you. Something you both knew but were too afraid to admit it to him.

You were a brat. That was true. You wanted the physical aspect of being wrangled into your place, to have the Scotsman’s will be exerted over yours only to fight it, try and over come it. Being a brat by teasing it out of him, coaxing it out of him with little taunts and jabs and doing what brats do to get him to exert himself over you. But there was another thing to all of that. It was like you wanted to win some game...a match....a fight. You wanted to win it, show him he never has won because he can’t keep you down.

It’s what the “Queen of Beasts” from the ring would do. That version of you wouldn’t go down without a fight. And you could feel that side be brought out more in these little sessions. But Drew’s words, him making sure you understand you would never win....you could never win....that every little victory of fighting wasn’t in fact a victory...there is no scenario where you’d 100% win...it struck you. You’d already known that. You knew that from the start.

So why fight it?

Why fight him?

It was simple. There is no way you’d admit defeat unless you were broken, truly. With a clear head, there’s no way you’d admit to him he won and he won from the start. All this fighting only to be reminded of one thing.

He was the champ.

The victor.

And his prize was your surrender, something that you wanted him to earn. That was it. You wanted him to earn his victories. You wanted him to earn you. All of you. Because in your mind, though he had collared you, though he had symbolically owned you, he hadn’t earned every aspect of you.

Not yet.

To answer his question, you did know you were owned, but he wouldn’t get to hear it. He’d only get to hear it now when your mind’s broken from his touches and him using you. The only way he’ll hear it is if he makes you drool and he breaks your mind from the amount of orgasms he could wring from your body.

For him to hear it, from the “Queen of Beasts”, from the woman he knew you were, that hidden piece of you you’re hiding from him. He had to really earn that part of you.

Until then, as you see it, he hasn’t owned the right piece of you. The one he’s fighting to earn. The one you want him to have in due time. Because there’s no way he’ll get that side of you. Not yet.

“Not yet.”

Don’t ask me where this kinda came from....I thought it would be a fun little blurb to explain two things; the power/dynamic struggle that plays out in my head for what I want the Princess I’m In Charge series to go and that there’s another underlying thing I want to happen for the series. But this comes a little later. I haven’t made a part 2 to follow up the events of the first one. Which...I will...at some point.

Tag: @acon1120 @adriennegabriella @amandalynngraves @amariemoore @andie01 @annoyingasian @ar3le @artemisapalla316 @ashkrystal @astolenheartnkiss @axelwolf8109 @baemcintyre @balorstrowmanblackmurphy @beckyann6879 @bigbabyscottishpsychopath @brownskinafro @calicina @calwitch @claymoreme @commando-claymore @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans @curlyafrogirl @daddyslittlevillain @dalia-corven @darlingambrose @dcnmarvelgamergeek @demonqueen29 @drew-is-boo @drewshoneybadger @fabulousrockstar @fireyegale @fivefootxo @flawlessglamazon @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @gold--gucciempress @hardcoresweet45 @heel-rollins @homeorbust @ihavenowilltolivelol @i-have-saracasm @itsicantbelievethis666 @jazzy-tzw @jeffhardyenigmawwefan @junglecassidy @kalliravenne @ladytea19 @lilred91 @littlesuperstar @madebypointlesswerewolves @malethirsty @meishaabae @melblacc @meremaidqueen @midnight--luna @monocromaticstaircase @morenokatt @moxleysbaby @moxley-unhinged @mox-made-me-do-it @moxnmurphy @moxtiel @neversatisfiedgirl @nevertoofarfromivar @new-zealand-chic @nicolewoo @nothinginlifebutgreif @number1120 @ofbeornandbjorn @pandaluver96 @queenofthearchitect @saiyandude @sassymox @savemeroman @scuzmunkie @sebstanismylife @shieldgirl18 @shortyiceheart @slytherinyourrpants @softmoxymuffin @superrezzy00 @taryn-dibiase @thatnerdwriter @thatpanpal @the-beastslayers-queen @thehoundsofjustice @thepalaceofmelanie @theworldofotps @thewrestlingwarehouse @trashofambrolleigns @twistedbeautifully @unabashedwrestlefics @undiscovereddisneyroyalty @undisputedmorgs @unprettypeony @voidstrugh @waywardwrestlewritingwaif @welcome-to-lovecraft-country @xbreezymeadowsx @yaint-me @youcantreignonmyparade @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan @nerdpeterparker

#drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre x reader #princess i'm in charge series #princess i'm in charge

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littlespaceporgs · 4 years

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i have a need for more soft plo my dear 💕 how abt “i wanted to say ‘i love you’ for the first time without stuttering, but that failed” with everyone’s fave kel dor? also i love you to the moon and back and am super proud of you

A/N: Yeah that’s right, I’m back mostly fully now and yes I am writing the requests I have! JJ - I hope you like this! I LOVE U TOO! It’s funny to start off with and then goes angsty and then goes super fluffy and is an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish. I was aiming for a little 500 word blurb... it stands at 1.7ish i think 💀

So if you haven’t been reading my Clone Wars Reacts series, you probably aren’t aware that I am a massive simp for Plo Koon (and others characters 🤦‍♀️)and if this is you deciding to read them here’s the link to my masterlist, which has all the parts posted already.

Glimpse

Word Count: 1.7k Pairing: Plo Koon x Jedi!Reader Summary: Anakin running late, an awful sense of foreboding, and one thing that you were yet to say, mixed with a glimpse of a future you couldn’t have. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags for my loves: @peacelandbread @clonewarslover55 @libradusk @catsnkooks @mcu-padawan

The reasons why you agreed to go on a mission on Skywalker seemed to escape you at the moment. His plans, though working occasionally, had the reputation of heavy damage and being absurdly reckless. You did however, enjoy working with Ahsoka, though she could be just as bull-headed as Anakin on occasion. Maybe it was for her sake that you joined the mission?

The plan had originally been for you to lead a small troop of men in quietly, retrieve the data you needed, and then Skywalker would swoop in and distract them so that you could escape. The entry went well, and collecting the data happened without a hitch, but you were spotted on the way out and Skywalker was late. Again. And to make things worse, your comms stopped working a very long time ago.

“If you concentrated on getting out instead of what you’re thinking, we might just survive.”

Ah, that’s why you came on this blasted trip.

“Well maybe if you focused on this, instead of your sarcasm, we may live past the next 10 minutes, Plo.”

You’d known the Kel-dor for many years, almost as long as you’d been a Jedi, but the feelings you had for him were only a few years old, and started shortly after you began going on regular missions with him. He always had put the wellbeing of others ahead of his own, which was frustrating to no end, but endearing all the same. He knew that you had a way of overthinking every situation and very quickly becoming a ‘stress head’, so he always simplified the instructions and looked for the tell-tale signs of you steadily becoming unstuck. Always waiting for the clones to get on board an escape pod, making sure there were enough supplies, somehow always having all the answers and a witty response. It was the little things at any rate.

Like now for example, as you both knelt behind a box, trying to catch your breath, and he was trying to use humour as a way of distracting you from the very real possibility of dying by the hands of a droid.

You stretched up from your crouch and turned to look over the box. Oh shit, there’s an entire battalion of droids just a few meters – oh, and that one’s pointing- oh.

With a sharp tug, Plo pulled you back down, the blaster bolt whizzing past where your eyes had been only half a second ago. Despite not being able to see his eyes and mouth, he still gave you an exasperated expression.

“Be more-”

“I was fine! I saw it coming and I was going to move!” The Kel-dor ran a hand across his forehead, although, at this point he should be used to this type of behaviour from you.

Despite the joking and poking fun, your stomach was sinking further by the minute. As you just realised, if you stepped out, you would surely be shot instantly. A vast majority of the clone troopers had long since been torn apart. Swallowing, you closed your eyes, and leaned back resting your head on the box. There is no way either of you are going to surrender and get captured, but you both were aware of the fact that you likely weren’t making it out of this either.

Your shoulder was burning, and your ribs and abdomen ached, and there was a blaster burn on your leg. Another hand wrapped around your own, and squeezed it tight. Trying to stop shaking, you spoke.

“I – we’re not getting out of this one…” You turned your head and opened your eyes, finding his face. His eyes were turned down at the edges, and his shoulders were slumped the smallest bit. “Are we?”

Plo turned and took a similar position to you, not letting go of your hand.

“We must not think like-”

“Be realistic we-”

“It’s going to be-”

“Don’t- don’t you dare say it’ll be fine-”

“Skywalker-”

“isn’t coming! Or- or if he is, he’ll be too late!” you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking now, stuttering more with every word that came out. Plo’s head hung and you could see the weight of your words hanging on him.

“At um – at least we’ll go out as we are, teasing the s-shit out of each other, you old man.” He let a laugh drift out of the mask.

“Don’t call me old, youngling.” You laughed back, smirking all the while. If you’re going to die here – if technically you wouldn’t be jedi – your heart raced at the thought. The code was – well if you’re dead you can’t very well follow the code, now can you?

“I- I um I love you.” As soon as it was out, you felt lighter and heavier all at once. His back straightened so fast the back of his head nearly whacked the crate. When he finally turned to you, his brows were sitting much further up on his face than what they had been before, so you traced every corner on his face with your eyes, just in case. His hand squeezed yours tighter.

“I- well I wanted to say it without stuttering, and preferably when we weren’t a few minutes from death, but well- I guess there’s really no time like the present?” He still hadn’t moved, frozen and staring at you. Oh, no. You waved your free hand in front of his face, trying to break his stupor.

“Plo? Are you-”

“I love you too.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand moving to his face instead, moving your thumb across his cheekbone. Idly, you noticed that he hadn’t let go of your other hand yet. His hand moved the hair from your face, smudging the ash and dirt also. With a hand on the back of your head, he gently pulled so your foreheads pressed together. Your eyes slid shut, and you concentrated on the feeling of warmth and light that this brought. If this was the last thing you remembered before death, then you would die happily. For now, you savoured the few seconds you had sitting there. You sighed, and opened your eyes.

“I – just-”

“I know.” You pulled away, and despite the happiness of a few seconds before, a sense of foreboding sat heavily in your chest. You swallowed harder, and moved to grab your lightsaber. You grasped it tight, and ignited the glowing blade. Next to you, you heard his blade reveal itself. Your muscles in your legs tensed, and you braced your shoulders. One more time. When you turned to him, he was still looking at you, with a sad expression that rivalled your own. You shuffled so you were instead in a crouch, ready to fight. Might as well go out swinging.

You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. For a second before you stood, you couldn’t hear anything. When you thought back and remembered it, there was the sound of droid’s legs and chatter, of occasional blaster fire of those who were left, and your lightsaber humming in your ear. At the time, there was nothing. You just kept staring at Plo, hoping that somehow, you’d get more of this, more than 5 seconds.

Faster than a blink, you got a glimpse of a future that could have been. Cold nights on Coruscant, wrapped up in blankets, watching the night sky past by. Daybreak, curled up in each other’s arms, feeling the glow of sun come in. On missions with small troops of trusted clones, being able to be open with your relationship. Sneaking around before council meetings, trying to savour what moments you could before missions. Feeling like young padawan’s again, running around quietly. Visions of you leaving the order, years from now, quoting being unable to stick to the code, Plo following shortly after. Of you building a home, your stomach steadily growing outwards.

And just like that it was over, and you were stuck with a reality of death.

Your throat burned and your vision blurred. Now.

And then Plo’s hand desperately grabbing yours and pulling you down again, a shrill beeping coming from his wrist. Your heart pulsed in your ears and you looked to the sky. Of course.

“Sorry, we were busy dealing with Ventress! How are you holding up?” A scathing laugh burst out of your throat. The droids were falling back, away from your position at the sight of the sheer number of Republic soldiers. You laid back on the dirt, feeling the sun on your skin, soaking up whatever light you could. It was only now that you felt the weight lift, where the light feeling of relief took its place. Plo begun to answer Anakin. You cut him off with a venomous tone.

“We’re a-”

“We’re alive, you’re late, and I am going to kill you, Skywalker.” There was an audible sigh that sounded suspiciously amused from Plo as he made to stand.

“I wasn’t that la-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Plo’s hand reached down and hovered near your face, though you ignored it and shot up on your own, winding your arms around his neck. He softly grunted as you laughed and the realisations began to sink in. Maker, we nearly died. We were very nearly dead. You nearly had to watch the man you fell in love with die.

Whilst your mind rambled, he pulled apart, and was still brushing the hair from your forehead again. You hadn’t noticed, but he was taking in every freckle, wrinkle and scar you had, like you had been doing to him not too long ago.

You nearly died. Plo nearly died. You almost didn’t get to say – oh, no. You told him. You thought you were going to die and you told him. But now you’re not going to die. And he said it back.

He said your name and whisked you from the spiral. His leathery forehead leant down and pressed against yours.

“I love you.”

Maker, he said it again. You grinned, and pulled him closer. You wanted to say it one thousand times at the top of your lungs, and suddenly the glimpse didn’t seem as far out of reach as it had a few minutes ago.

“I love you too.”

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #star wars fanfic #plo koon #plo koon x reader #anakin skywalker #fanfiction #star wars imagine

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tinyyoungblood · 4 years

Text

small hours | peter parker

summary: due to your nightly fire escape dates, new york’s friendly neighborhood spider-man has grown to be more to you than just a stranger but now you find out that he was never a stranger to begin with

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 979

warnings: just fluff

a/n: this is more of a blurb really but i’ve just been told that today’s spider-man day!! so this is in special honor of our sticky boy double p. enjoy x

small hours

noun [plural]; the first few hours after midnight and before dawn and sunrise

You sighed, head falling back to stare at the rusty metal above you. A gentle breeze carried the echoes of the city pass you and your shoulders slumped, muscles relaxing and head clearing. Sitting on the fire escape had that effect on you. It was nice to observe your surroundings from afar without actually seeing anything. Your window faced a tree, and beyond that, a bare brick wall—not really a sight to behold. But in a way, you liked depending on your other senses to paint the picture of your happenings outside this alley.

Glancing into your room that was lit up in purple lights, the clock on your wall read 3 a.m. and just on time, the person you’ve been waiting for landed on the metal railing with a soft thud. You didn’t need to look up to know it was him—nobody moved like him.

“You don’t ever sleep, do you?” The boyish voice scolded with the edge of amusement. Lifting your shoulder in a half shrug, you took in the sight of him sitting on the railing, legs swinging freely.

“Do you?”

His head cocked to the side and even with the mask covering his face you could tell he was giving you a deadpanned look. “Gotta save the city, you know. For the people.” You eyed the half-eaten churro in his hand and clicked your tongue with raised brows. “Right.” Following your gaze, he sheepishly offered you a bite which you gladly took.

And just like that, the two of you indulged in comforting conversation that slowed down the echoes of New York.

It was nights like these that made you fall in love with this city. You had never lived anywhere else, so you always liked to imagine how, in a parallel universe, your daily insomnia could have you possibly chased out of small towns for wandering around at witching hours. You clearly didn’t know how towns functioned outside of New York, but you liked to joke about it with this masked hero that somehow always knew when you were awake. At first, it was downright creepy but now, after endless nights of jokes and conversations on the deeper side, you didn’t mind and were just glad for the close company.

As usual, the two of you stayed out and talked until the first sun rays would peak through the leaves. You were gone now, finally dozed off into dreamland. It would only last for two more hours though until school would start. Routinely stepping through the window, the masked boy carried you cautiously into your room and pulled the blanket up to your shoulders once you laid in bed. And with that, your good friend was gone too.

Groaning as the alarm yanked you out of the blink of sleep, you croakily made yourself look decent to prepare for a never-ending school day. Once standing outside the elevator, you squeezed your eyes shut only to open them wide again. You were definitely feeling the aftermath of your previous night now. With every increasing red digit, indicating that the elevator was almost on your floor, your eyelids grew heavier and fell shut as the book in your hand slipped from your fingers. But instead of the expected loud thump that would probably anger grumpy Georgia, whose apartment you were standing in front of, you heard the shut of a door instead. Forcing your eyes to open, you met the worried gaze of your neighbor and classmate Peter Parker as his eyes locked with yours, arm still stretched out from heroically catching your book.

Adjusting the strap of his backpack, he handed it to you and you took it with a dozy smile of gratitude. His eyes gleamed with amusement when you only responded with a low groan to his cheerful ‘good morning’.

“You don’t ever sleep, do you?” he chuckled lightly as the doors to the elevator opened. He stepped in and held his arm out to keep it from closing, patiently waiting for you to follow but your feet were stuck on the spot. The air was knocked out of your lungs and Peter lifted his brow to question your sudden wide eyes. “You coming?”

You snapped out of it and faintly shook your head, partly in denial of the familiar ring to his innocent words. Once you stood next to him, he pushed the button to get to the lobby. Instead of the usual chatter, a thick layer of silence was weighing on Peter and he almost squirmed. Eyeing you suspiciously, you were still staring at the closed doors. Everything about your facial expression and body language pointed towards the assumption that you must’ve seen a ghost of some sort. Your rapid heartbeat was driving him insane, so he reached out and laid a gentle hand on your arm, making you tense up. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You gulped and nodded, not convincing him but he let his arm drop anyway while murmuring, “Alright, if you say so…” After all, you weren’t that close—at least, not with this version of Peter.

With another ‘ding’ the doors opened again and he stepped out before looking back at you, a hint of worry still present in his eyes but he smiled nonetheless. “See you in class?” He asked as usual and you forced yourself to smile back. “Yea—sure, of course.” You stumbled over your words and Peter decided to interpret your soft tone of shock as tiredness. With a small wave, he disappeared around the corner and you let out a shaky breath. It was all crystal clear to you now and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the obvious signs all along. You shook your head again with a faint smile on your lips and mumbled under your breath, “Sure, Spider-Man, see you in class…”

* * *

just wanted to use this opportunity to thank you guys for all the nice feedback on ‘olives and popcorn’. it’s still surreal to me that people have actually read and enjoyed it 🤧💞 if you liked this bad boy too, feel free to leave some feedback or talk to me on my ask or messages! i want to meet the cool people who read my stuff!! i also have a really fun one shot planned for monday so stick~ around if you’re feeling fancy. if you don’t, that’s okay too. have a great day, buh-bye! x

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tagged: @honeypie-holland

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker fic #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #small hours #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman day

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nostalgiabones · 4 years

Text

Without Me // M.C

This is for @sadistmichael’s Michael event! Thank you so much for holding this Jex — I’m always here for as much inclusive Michael content as we can get so I’m so glad to be a part of this! Please check out the other writers blurbs/fics who have written for this event too, under the tag #michael2020 ♥️

The idea for this is based on this text post! I also made a side blog where i’m going to be reblogging inspo for writing, so follow me at @loveroflrhwrites if you’re interested in seeing that!

Content — singledad!Michael x non-gendered reader

“Hey, I’m home. Where are my two favourite people?”

Michael’s loud voice calls out from the door to his apartment — his black boots squeaking against the wooden floor as he enters the place he calls home. The scent of a familiar dish instantly fills his senses; Levi’s favourite chicken and vegetable pasta. He spots his own dinner plated up on the kitchen counter, and his stomach rumbles at the sight.

He drops his keys in the dish next to the door, before removing his boots and jacket. He wonders why the apartment is so quiet — definitely out of the ordinary.

Michael is confused as he moves through the apartment, yet he doesn’t have to look far until he solves the mystery of the quietness. His gaze softens as he spots you on the sofa, Levi tucked up to your side — his head on your shoulder as the two of you have an evening nap. He knows Levi shouldn’t really be asleep at this time, but since he’s already had dinner, he hopes he can just move him to his bed and let him have an early night.

“Hey, bud.” Michael kneels down next to the sofa, ever so gently pushing Levi’s hair away from his face. He stirs, a hand lifting to rub at his eyes, as he realises he’s fallen asleep in the lounge. He gives him a minute to wake up and to get his bearings. “I’m here. Shall we go to bed, huh? Are you sleepy?”

He’s met with a small nod, and Levi cuddles up to you a little more — wanting to retain the warmth radiating from you and the thick fluffy blanket you’re tucked under. He holds his arms out to Michael, letting him pick him up, and curling into his chest to stay warm. Michael kisses his forehead as he holds him for the first time that day, feeling content with the weight of his son in his arms.

“I missed you so much today, bubba. I’m not going to the studio tomorrow so we can do whatever you want, okay?” Michael speaks quietly to his son, not wanting to disturb him anymore than he already has. He feel as though he hasn’t spent anywhere near as much time as he should’ve with Levi this week and it makes his heart ache. After another long day working on the album, he told his bandmates that he needs tomorrow off, that he needs the time to spend with his son and partner. They understand — they always do.

“Okay, dad.” Levi is trying to hold onto the sleep he had fallen into. There’s nothing he loves more then spending the day with Michael and you (and Milo), especially when he’s given the choice of what to do. Levi is usually chatty — especially when Michael has just gotten home, and he hasn’t seen him all day. Not in his current sleepy state though. “Can we go swimming please?”

“If that’s what you want to do buddy,” Michael replies, carrying him through to his bedroom. Levi has done a few swimming lessons so far, and he loves it — especially when Michael is there to get involved.

Michael leans down, pulling back Levi’s planet themed duvet (following his latest obsession — space and everything to do with it) and setting the four year old down into it. He kneels down next to the bed, watching as Levi curls up against the soft sheets, lying on his front, his hands above his head. He’s slept like that ever since he was a baby and Michael loves that he still does it now.

“Good night, Levi. Have a good sleep so we can have a fun day tomorrow,” He whispers, tucking the covers over his back and running his fingertips through his hair. “You know where we are if you need us. I love you.”

“Love you, dad.” He murmurs sleepily in response, and Michael’s heart melts at the sound — he still remembers the first time Levi told him that he loves him, and it still provokes the same reaction every time.

Michael stays there for a moment, rubbing his hand over Levi’s back gently until he knows he’s fallen asleep once more. He stands up, switching on the moon and stars nightlight on the dresser, illuminating the room with a soft yellow glow. Levi hasn’t quite defeated his fear of the dark yet, and Michael wasn’t going to rush him, although they were working on it.

He softly closes the door behind him, heading back to the lounge where you were still asleep on the sofa. It’s then he notices the Disney + home screen on the TV, and it’s clear the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie.

“Hey, you,” Michael gently shakes your shoulder, sitting on the edge of the sofa. All he wants to do is to get under the soft blanket and cuddle up next to you, yet he knows he should help you into bed instead, where you’ll be more comfortable. “Wakey wakey sleepy head.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the disturbance, slowly opening your eyes to find Michael in front of you. You realise Levi is no longer next to you and whatever movie you were watching has finished, and that Michael is home from the studio.

“When did you get back?” You ask sleepily, stretching out your arms and shoulders from where you’ve been laid on the sofa for so long. He smiles at your voice, heavy with tiredness — it makes him feel soft and warm inside. “And why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“How rude of me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to drop a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, before he brushes his lips against yours in a greeting kiss. “I’m sorry, baby. Also I got home about five minutes ago, I just put Levi to bed.”

“I made you dinner,” You tell him, sitting up a little so you can cuddle into his side. His hoodie is warm and soft and smells like him, a subtle scent of fresh cotton that always reminds you of him. His arm wraps around your shoulders and his hand lands on your side, thumb rubbing little circles. “It’ll need heating up, I can do it if you want.”

He shakes his head, turning to press a kiss to your temple as you attempt to stay awake.

“I got it babe, thank you.” He replies, deciding he’ll eat it in bed. He knows if you stay out here you’ll fall asleep again, and he can’t think of a better way to spend the rest of the evening than having an early night with you. He playfully slaps your thigh to coax you to stand up. “Come on, let’s get in bed.”

“You’ll get crumbs in the bed.” You yawn as you stand up, rubbing your eyes once more as he rolls his.

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael replies, knowing that you’re right, and even in your half asleep state you’re still aware of how messy he can be. “If it annoys you so much you can go to your own bed next door.”

His touch lingers on your hip as you sleepily rest your head on his shoulder, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting at his words — mumbling a “you’re so mean to me” as you head to his bedroom. His bedroom, that recently, had felt more like your own since you spent so much time there. It would take you less than 30 seconds to go next door to your own bed, but why would you when there’s no Michael in there to hold you? Even Milo’s bed has ended up in his room.

“Time to tuck my second baby into bed.” Michael comments, pulling back his duvet so you can climb into the bed. The room is cosy and familiar — it’s so easy to feel at home there, especially since spending so much time in his apartment. “Did you have a good day with Levi?”

You nod, yawning as your head hits the pillow. You gravitate towards the middle of the bed, your face pressed against Michael’s cushion as he changes out of his jeans and hoodie into a pair of shorts. He silently gestures for you to move over as he gets into the bed next to you, holding his arm out so you can lay on his chest.

“Yeah, we did some reading. He’s getting much better with the spaceman book we started,” You reply, cuddling into his side as his fingers lightly trace circles on your back. His skin is warm against your face as you lay against him, your head on his shoulder. “I think it helps that it’s space related. I swear you could get him to do anything if astronauts are involved.”

Michael smiles at your words, his heart aching with how he misses his son, even though he’s only in the room across from you. He never thought he’d be away from him so much, not until he met you — since he had so much anxiety about finding a babysitter for Levi. He didn’t have to worry about that now, yet the guilt of spending more time at the studio eats at him.

“My little space nerd.” He chuckles, his bottom lip forming a pout as he thinks about his son. He also thinks about how grateful he is to have you and how glad he is that Levi has a positive influence around him, when he’s not there. “Thanks for watching him, babe. You know how much I appreciate it.”

You lift your head to kiss his scruffy jaw, his skin scratchy against your lips due to his facial hair growing out a little longer than he usually leaves it.

“You’re welcome. He’s a sweet boy, I love hanging out with him.” You reply, pulling the duvet up over your shoulders to get comfortable against him. “Now, are you gonna eat dinner before I fall asleep again?”

“I’m too comfortable now,” He groans, although he knows he should eat since he hasn’t had the chance to all day. His lips brush over your forehead a few times before you roll over onto your own side of his bed, letting him go and get his dinner. He stands up from the bed, yawning before heading to the kitchen. “Be right back.”

“Hurry, Michael.” You call out behind him. “The bed isn’t the same without you.”

***

Feedback is always very appreciated! Please let me know of any other requests you have for Michael & Levi 💘

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#5sos blurbs #michael clifford blurbs #singledad!5sos blurbs #singledad!michael blurbs #singledad!5sos #singledad!michael #michael clifford blurb #mcblurb #mywriting #myblurbs #michael clifford fic #5sos fics #single dad 5sos #single dad michael #michael2020

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mulletcal · 4 years

Text

flowers, maybe daisies, might relieve the gloom. - an a.i blurb

a/n: i lowkey blame @sexgodashton for starting this whole mini series of boomer!ash things, but i also adore this because boomer!ash is soft as hell. and also a lil d*ddy but we don’t need to talk about that. title is from wait by sweeney todd bc i love it. alternative title was gonna be from L.G. FUAD by motion city soundtrack

word count:

warnings: ashton irwin being a thirst trapping, lemon stealing whore. i’m kidding it’s just a solo ash fic w no smut but some mild ash thirst trapping.

-----

‘ashtonirwin started a live video.’

Ashton didn’t often go live on Instagram, but this shelter in place order had left him ultimately bored - writing a song every day before noon, sure, but anything after that was a blur. Occasionally he would have interviews or live-streams with the band, but on days without that he was left alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts weren’t always the safest place to be; so talking to fans it was.

It was going well so far, simply asking fans how their quarantine was going - bringing some of them into the livestream so he could talk to some face to face. One girl in particular had caught his attention when they began to discuss hobbies she had picked up during the time she’d spent at home.

“Yeah, I’m learning to garden. I have a tomato plant that is just starting to sprout actual tomatoes, so that’s kind of exciting,” She had said, a nervous laugh escaping.

“Well, I would hope that your tomato plant is sprouting tomatoes, it would be a little concerning if it was growing something else,” Ashton replied with a chuckle, the girl giving a small shrug but still laughing along with him.

“You should look into it if you’ve got the room at your house, I bet it would feel rather rewarding to be able to cook something with your own fresh vegetables.”

“Would save me quite a bit of money too. Can I grow yeast? I’d like to learn how to make my own bread but here in L.A. you can’t find yeast anywhere.”

The conversation continued like that for a few minutes more, Ashton taking only a couple more fans into the livestream after that to talk to before he decided he should probably do something else productive with his day. Something like learning to garden.

It surprised Ashton the things you were able to order online during this time - soil being the main thing. He also read that saving coffee grounds would help, and he was excited at the idea of his insane coffee habit wouldn’t be completely useless. He ended up buying seeds for tomatoes, mint, sunflowers, lemongrass, and zucchini. The lemongrass and mint was specifically for Calum, realizing he would be able to dry the plants out once he had harvested them so he could make the man his very own tea.

When his package finally arrived, Ashton spread the packages out, sliding them across the table as though he was some card dealer in Las Vegas. Thinking the fans would find it amusing, he took a picture of the spread and added it to his story with the caption of ‘pick a card, any card…’. Maybe it would only be funny to him, but it did prompt a fire reaction from Michael.

It seemed as though the reaction from fans were positive though, them taking to Twitter to let him know their excitement about his new endeavour. That’s where his weekly livestreams began. He would show everyone the progress he was making with his plants, and just in general him chatting with fans. Ashton never really thought of how refreshing it could be to just talk to the fans, without the worry of time restrictions or anyone’s personal safety in the way; in fact, it left him rather inspired, loving their fans even more if it were at all possible.

A particularly warm day in L.A. left Ashton wondering if he should go out to the garden that day - but it was the day he would normally livestream, and he was excited to show what he was up to that day. Ashton wanted to plant another tomato plant, and also the lemons on his infamous tree had enough for him to make some lemonade so he was going to go through that as well.

Clad in some cut off jeans, or as Calum so affectionately called them his jorts, and a white tank top, he pulled up the live option on Instagram and waited for the people to begin to filter in before he started to speak.

“Hey guys! Just gonna wait for more of you to filter in before I actually head outside, but I thought that since you guys love my lemon tree so much, I’d make some lemonade. Fuck, I sound like a YouTuber. Is that gonna be my next career, is just YouTube tutorials on how to make shitty lemonade?” Ashton laughed to himself, slicing the lemon so he could juice it, ignoring the comments he saw about murdering his lemon children.

It didn’t take him long to make the lemonade, making mild conversation with the fans while he stirred in a little bit of sugar and some cheat mint he had ordered while waiting for his own to grow.

“Alright, now that I’m waiting for that to cool, probably best we go outside and check on those tomatoes, hm?”

It had been weird at first, talking to himself; but he quickly realized that he talked to himself anyways, even without the phone in front of him, so it couldn’t have been too weird for anyone who could overhear him.

“So I wanted to plant another tomato plant today, because everyone can use a friend right now, you know?” He looked into the camera, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the flood of cute little emojis that followed. “M’gonna be like the Bob Ross of gardening. No mistakes, only happy accidents or whatever it was he said.”

Ashton began to work away at his garden, building up a sweat in the process. It wasn’t until he leaned back, glancing at his phone did he see a text from Michael flash across the top.

‘Mate, Crystal said stop thirst trapping the fans.’

Ashton’s brow furrowed, unsure of what the text was saying, “Okay so I just got a text from Michael - what’s thirst trapping? And am I currently doing it?”

Of all the comments that followed, he noticed one that said ‘I mean… I’m not gonna say either way but take a look at yourself and get back to us’. Another one told him that it was when someone wears something in order to provoke risque texts, or gain attention from someone.

Ashton pouted, looking down at his appearance. He was kind of sweaty, but he didn’t think that the fans would mind him being covered in dirt and sweat, it’s not as though they had to smell him. Though, he would admit that he needed a shower.

“Well, since my tomato plant has been… planted next to its’ friend, and I’m apparently thirst trapping you all, I should probably go shower and clean up. Is me mentioning a shower thirst trapping as well?” Ashton rubbed his face over his hands, a small huff leaving his lips, “I don’t know… Fellow youths, tweet me and lemme know. Also, may hold a poll later on what to name these guys.” He flipped the camera around, struggling for a moment, to show the sunflowers that were starting to sprout, “M’thinking of naming one Denise. Just seems like a Denise.”

After his small speech was over, he ended the stream, grinning to himself. He hadn’t meant to show off his body in such a way, but it was funny to know that even with him hardly doing anything but be himself they still lost their shit.

Glancing around at his garden, he felt himself swell with a mild sense of pride. He was still a ways off from seeing any fruits of his labour (literally), but it made him feel good knowing he did something with his time at home, instead of slipping further into his mind which wasn’t always the kindest to him.

Ashton realized that when he was gardening, it was similar to songwriting in a way where all of his self doubts and fears went away and he could just pour himself into it - the reward being well worth the risk in the end.

Once his shower was done, he sat outside in his backyard, sipping his lemonade and enjoying the sunshine - realizing that having to stay home wasn’t all too bad, if it meant he could reset his mind, and do some small part to help how he could during that time.

tag list: @haikucal @talkfastromance4 @softbabiestan @boyfriend-cal @calum-uncrowned @wildflowerirwin @irwindoll @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @heavenisapeach @ridingcthood @loveroflrh @mantlereid @inlovehoodx @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @g-l-pierce @thecurlsofgod

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #boomer!ash

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taehyungiejiminie95 · 4 years

Text

BTS Reactions – They try to win you back

He clutches at his chest, trying to slow his racing heart down. This isn’t right. He knows it. It’s not been the same since he left you, and he doesn’t know how to cope. In all of his life, he has never made a mistake this big, and he has never wanted to turn back time more. He’s not a time traveller, so the only fix is to do his best to win you back. It has to work. He has no other choice.

Jin

It’s been… some amount of time since you last saw Jin. It hasn’t actually been that long, but at the same time it feels like an eternity. You’ve got this Jin-shaped hole carved into you, and there’s nothing that can fill it. No amount of time, distraction or food could ever come close. You’d know. You’ve tried. You’ve been trying since he left you, but nothing’s changed. It still hurts, but you’re not using it as an excuse. With all the effort it takes, you’ve been going out everyday to the bakery you run with your soon-to-be-retiring parents and acting like you’re okay. For the most part, you very nearly believe it.

You normally get in before your parents do, so you can fire up the ovens and set up for the day ahead, so you’re not surprised to find the bakery in complete darkness. It smells like home here, somewhere you can truly forget your worries. Today’s special pastry is going to be churros, and you know it’s going to smell even better. A nostalgic scent, you always felt. You flip on the main lights as you go, heading straight for the back room. Stopping short, you realise that something feels odd. You have that feeling you get when someone’s stood too close, but you know there’s nobody around. You’re probably just being weird. That’s quite normal for you at the moment, really, so you do your best to shrug it off and you push your way through to the office to put your coat and bag down,

“What on earth…” You mutter under your breath, seeing the state of the office. Flour. Literal bags of flour covering every inch of the desk where you do the accounts. Your brow furrows as you step forward to where a sole red rose rests atop the bed of flour bags, next to a small note, “I’m outside,” You read aloud, a sense of dread filling you from the toes up. If you couldn’t recognise Jin’s handwriting after how long you spent together, who even are you?

The question of whether or not to respond to this gesture makes you wonder. Is it worth seeing what he wants? Or should you just ignore it, clear the bags into the pantry, and pretend this never even happened?

Your feet move of their own accord, propelling you back through the shop and out of the front door to where Jin is waiting, looking as handsome and as serious as the day you met him, when he was running late for his friend’s birthday and needed something – anything – sweet to take in means of a gift,

“You always said you had no use for flowers. Flour on the other hand… that you need an abundance of,” He half-heartedly teases, looking at you with poorly concealed fear, “Please, will you let me explain myself to you? I know I don’t deserve it but…” He trails off, eyes wide and fearful. Your words fail you. What are you meant to do here?

Yoongi

Your alarm goes off with a harsh buzz, making you wince as you’re rudely woken. It’s cold this morning, you realise with a huff as you get up. You flick the kettle on for your coffee and turn on the radio. Ever since Yoongi left you, you’ve hated the silence. It only amplifies how alone you are, how empty the apartment has been since he left. You rub the sleep out of your eyes as you reach for a mug, the kettle screaming to you that it’s ready. That’s when you hear it,

“In a surprise move from BTS member Suga, a new song has been realised under his own name. This is unusual for him, as the rapper uses many aliases for his different work, but never his birth name…” A cold sweat breaks out over your body as you fumble to get to the radio. You don’t want to hear the new song. The feeling of dread in your stomach tells you what it is, and the soft sounds of piano confirm that for you when you’re not quick enough to the power switch.

Time stands still. Nothing moves as the song plays. You know it’s for you. The melody is something he wrote for you in the early days of your relationship. He always joked that he’d release it under his birth name, because it was so personal. He never did. But now, as you listen to the song which is so clearly dedicated to you, your heart aches for him. His art. This is far more than a melody, than a simple piece of piano he wrote for you. This is pain mixed with poetry and poured into a track. This is true beauty, and you can’t deny it. You can’t move as the words wash over you, and your emotions quickly follow. Tears threaten to break rank as your lip trembles and you’re forced to see how much you miss him.

The last notes of the track wrap themselves up in melancholy, the final one dragging out as if it doesn’t want to end. You don’t want it to. It feels even emptier now, without that song. The radio DJs begin to discuss the unusually heartfelt track, comparing it to First Love, only more pained. You’re still stuck in the kitchen, holding a mug so tight it’s groaning and threatening to break.

Minutes pass as you try to process what you’re feeling, and what this means. Does he want to talk to you? Does he regret what he did? Or is he only using pain as inspiration, with no real intent?

Your phone rings. “Min Yoongi is calling…” You lurch to pick it up before it goes to voicemail.

Hoseok

It’s just gone 11. You pull the covers up over your head in an attempt to try and pretend like you’re any closer to sleep than you were 2 hours ago when you got into bed. It’s been… hard lately. Without him. You can’t even bring yourself to think his name anymore. You’re not someone who lets their life halt for some man, and you’re not letting that happen now. You refuse to huddle down and let this ruin you, which is why you confine your sadness and dysfunction to night times only. During the day, you’re fine. You don’t even let yourself entertain the thought that you want him to come home, to climb into bed and sing you to sleep like he always did. It’s too painful to think about wanting-

Your thoughts are rudely interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. With a groan, you slide out of bed and head towards the door. You fumble around for a moment with the lock before you’re finally able to swing the door open, your very best glare ready for whenever this visitor comes into view. You’re surprised to see… nobody. It takes a huff and an eye roll before you cast your vision down to the floor, where you see a small box. The words “From your Hoseok~” are born on a gift tag, and the tidy scribble of the handwriting you recognise so well. It’s hard to resist scooping down to pick it up.

The box sits in your hands for the rest of the night. You don’t sleep. You barely even blink as you try to work out whether you should open it – just so you don’t have to live with the painful curiosity – or put it in the bin – just in case whatever it is hurts you.

As night turns into dawn, you sigh and put your head down on the back of the couch. Your first movement for hours. It’s taking everything in you to not just throw this damn box back onto the doorstep, or post it straight through Hoseok’s letterbox and be done with it, but you know you need to open it. You lift the flaps carefully and look inside, somehow terrified about what you’ll find. It’s a small note, written in the same tidy scrawl.

‘Meet me by the river tonight. The one we met at, outside your apartment. Let me show you how sorry I am’.

You’re out the door before you can stop yourself,

“You’ve been here all night?” You shriek, seeing Hoseok sat under a willow tree, one of many that line the bank of the river. He nods slowly, gazing unseeingly into the flowing water. You tear off your dressing gown and drape it around his shoulders as best you can, “You’re still an idiot, then. It’s the middle of winter, and you’re hardly dressed appropriately,”

“You didn’t come, but I couldn’t accept it. I needed to be sure you really didn’t want me anymore,” He whispers, finally turning to look up into your eyes, trying to find his answer. The truth is that you’re not even wholly sure on one yourself.

Namjoon

The pigeon hole with your apartment number on it never has anything interesting in it, other than bills and spam, but you still make a habit of checking it every day. Just in case, you suppose. You’re on your way in from work when you check it, today. You barely even glance in, about to walk away when a small package catches your eye. You take it into you hands curiously, not recalling having ordered anything, You take it up to your apartment anyway, seeing as it isn’t a case of someone else’s mail in your pigeon hole. It’s clearly addressed to you. Maybe one of your friends has sent you a care package to get through your low period.

An hour or so later, you curl up on your couch with a hot cup of tea. You’ve showered off and had a snack, and your mid had wandered back around to the mysterious package tantalisingly awaiting you on the coffee table where you left it. It feels quite dense, you realise as you carefully tear back the brown wrapping paper. It’s a book, you find out. You’ve opened it from the wrong side – you’re looking at the back, where the blurb should be. Instead, it’s just a plain matte black. Turning it over, you see the title embossed in silver against the black – “My Last Love by Kim Namjoon”.

Your heart drops to your stomach, but you can’t stop yourself from carefully opening the cover, flicking to the acknowledgments in the front.

“To my greatest loss, and my greatest achievement. We always spoke about me publishing this book, but I never had the courage. Now, I have nothing lose. I hope you’ll read this, although by now you’ll know the story better than I do. It may be selfish, but I also hope you’ll reach out in the way I’m too afraid to do”

You fingers trace over the words, not written in the traditional font but printed in the front of every book in his own handwriting, smudges and all. Tears shine in your eyes without you realising as you see what this is. For years, Namjoon was writing a book. It was based on the story of your love, although he was always unsure of his skill, whether it would be good enough to ever publish. He kept it in his archives for a while, forgetting about it until he broke things off with you. He was right, you do know the story better than anyone, but you can’t resist flicking to the first page and allowing yourself to get lost in his world. A world you sheared, it used to be.

You’re only a chapter in when your phone lights up with a text. It’s your friend. They want to know if you’re going to reach out to Namjoon, the way he clearly wants you to. The thought makes your throat close up. Do you want to?

Jimin

Turning your phone over, you sigh. You miss the days when you would be able to pick up your phone at any given time and see a few notifications waiting patiently for you. Jimin was someone who liked to keep you updated always, even if it was just with the occasional picture or a few seconds of video. It’s almost painful now to turn on your phone and see ‘No New Notifications’ waiting for you. At times like this, it’s too painful to look at. At least if you’ve turned the screen away from yourself, you can’t jump up every time the flashes across it, making it look as if it’s lit up again.

You try your best to go about your day as normal, running errands around the house in time for work tomorrow. It’s boring, but well overdue. You scrub the inside of the oven, do your laundry, sweep the floors, bleach the toilet and you’re just about to re-organise your wardrobe when your phone rings,

“Hello?” You answer, only to immediately be spoken over by your very excited friend,

“Look out of your window right now! Just go, do it! You will not believe what it is!” They all but scream, causing you to panic slightly as you rush to tear your curtains open, fully expecting to see an alien spaceship threaten to destroy the earth if you don’t comply. But it’s not anything like that. Somehow, it’s worse. It’s a large white blimp, with Jimin’s face plastered onto each side. In his own enlarged handwriting, a message is shown clear for the world to see – ‘you will always be my safe place’, “Oh my God, I need to go for a second and call my boyfriend. He needs to up his game. I’ll call you back!” Your friend promises, but you barely even hear. Your phone is loose in your grip, and your breath is scarce in your lungs as you’re forced to see what the whole of the country is currently photographing and talking about. They’re literally sending Jimin’s over-the-top attempt to win you back viral. You don’t know how long passes before your friend calls again. You pick up instantly,

“I honestly can’t believe this. He broke up with me, why would he-“ An all-too-familiar voice cuts you off,

“Because I made a huge mistake,” Jimin’s broken voice whispers, marred with tears.

Taehyung

You smile politely at the security on the door as you breeze past them. They don’t bother to stop you, knowing well who you are. The event looks as grand as you were hoping, and a sense of satisfaction bubbles up to the surface as you cast your eyes around the gallery. This was probably your most ambitious project yet – you’ve combined the art collections of 25 of the greatest connoisseurs in the world, having to rent out 10 different venues to hold everything that encompasses your art show. Your colleagues shake your hand as you sautés further into the venue, knowing you’ll be bored of all this by the time the final one opens. But for now, you’re enjoying it on night 3 of 10.

Something grabs your attention from the corner of your eyes – a tallish man, wearing a beret and an unusual combination of clothes but… no. You refuse to let false memories of Taehyung plague your night. You plaster a smile back onto your face as you take a glass of champagne.

As your exit time comes near, you decide to simply observe as much of this wonderful art as you can. The pensive look on your face wards off conversation partners as you wander through the work you’ve compiled. You recognise some of the work here, but not all of it. Some of it is to your taste, and some isn’t. That’s what you love most about this. Seeing things from the perspective of others, and not always agreeing with what you find.

But one painting stands out more than anything else in the room. It’s… unique. It’s a clash of colours that shouldn’t work, but do. It’s confusing and loud, but you can’t tear your eyes away. It gives you a sense of nostalgia that you can’t shake, and it speaks to you in an odd way. It feels like pain and longing,

“You haven’t stared at a single painting as long as this one,” A familiar voice remarks from behind you. Your eyes dart to the corner, and you see the artist who created this. It’s called “Desire” by Vante. With a deep breath, you turn around to face Vante. Your Taehyung, “Do you like it?” He asks, eyes as wide and as curious as when you first met him,

“It’s different to your normal work. What prompted the change?” You reply civilly, feeling your hand start to shake around your champagne glass. Funnily enough, you already know the answer to your question,

“Losing you,” Taehyung whimpers, taking a step forward, “Look, I know that I’m the one who left you, but I made a mistake. Please, let me talk to you. I can’t lose you like this,” he pleads, voice cracking as he tries to reach for your hand. You don’t know whether or not to let him.

Jungkook

Your Jungkook, your love, the one you cherished above all else, was never that into big romantic gestures. He was small things that made you smile. He was doing the dishes when he got in past midnight so you didn’t have to. He was buying you a bouquet of flowers every now and then because of how you love fresh flowers. He was leaving you a home cooked meal on the side when you were getting home late. He was carrying you to bed when you fell asleep. Your Jungkook was not a big gesture. He was the little things that kept you smiling.

Maybe that’s why everything going on right now has been such a shock to you. This isn’t like your Jungkook at all, but somehow it’s just as real and genuine. The video on your phone plays again, stuck on a loop, just as your mind is. It hardly makes sense at all, that he would do this. He’s the one who left you, and yet he’s gone to such a length to get your attention again. You cast your eyes back down to your phone, needing to watch it one more time to try and grasp that it really did happen,

“ARMY!” Jungkook calls, waving his hand up. The crowd screams loudly before finally falling quiet again, “ARMY, you do so much for me, and for BTS. You know our love for you never ends,” He confesses, sending the crowd wild again. He waits patiently for their focus to come back to him, “That’s how I know that I can ask this favour of you. Will you all do something special for me?” Jungkook calls, spinning to cast his eyes around the arena. It’s the end of the concert, and everyone is tired, but he can’t let this go. He knows it will work, “Everyone, get your phones out! Put your camera on, turn the video on, film this! I want you to record something for me, and then I want you to post it to every platform you have. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, everywhere! You, my Kinds and Queens of trending, I need you to make this go viral,”

Jungkook’s eyes somehow meet the lens of every camera in the arena at once as he speaks your name solemnly. The crowd hushes each other so Jungkook can speak. His eyes are red, and he’s not sure for how long he’ll remain composed, “Forgive me. I’ve done something stupid, I know that now. I see that I’ve hurt you, and I’m ready to grow and mature and become the best version of myself. Baby, I need you. Will you please call me? I know you’ll see this. Please, all I want is to talk. Even if you decide I don’t deserve a second chance. Please,” Jungkook closes his eyes, blinking back tears, “ARMY, please make sure they see this. Post it everywhere. I want them to know that I love them more than myself,” His voice cracks on his last word as he starts to break down, “Please,”

#bts #bts reactions #bts angst #bts fluff #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts v #bts jimin #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts seokjin #bts jin #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts yoongi #bts suga

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mischiefandi · 3 years

Text

My Blog in 2021 <3

Hi everyone!!

I’ll be writing again soon and I wanted to give you guys some information on what I’m gonna be doing on here from now on. There’s gonna be a few changes to how I’ll be handling my blog and my writing which is why I’m making this post so everything makes sense and you know what’s coming <3

everything is below the cut ! ( this is quite a serious post ngl :)

Fandoms

As you’ve probably seen on my blog these past few weeks, I’ve fallen back in love with the Harry Potter universe and I’ve decided I will be writing fanfiction about Harry, Fred Weasley, and the Marauders (Wolfstar content, Sirius Black x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, and some Marauders headcanons). I will still be writing for Peter Parker in the MCU fandom and I will also be writing for Drake Walker from the Choices fandom. However, I’ve decided that after I finish my series “A Shitty Love Song” (Stiles Stilinski x Reader), I will officially stop writing for Stiles.

He’s still one of my comfort characters but I don’t feel as inspired anymore and because Teen Wolf ended so long ago now, I just don’t feel the same love for it as I used to. I will definitely still reblog gif sets and shitposts about Teen Wolf!! and I will not stop talking about Stiles on my blog lmao but I won’t be writing about him anymore. I know a lot of people follow me for that, so I apologise if you feel let down or disappointed.

I really appreciate all the love and the support you guys have been surrounding me with ever since I joined the Teen Wolf fandom, and I still love yall and will gladly discuss the show with you guys!! Thank you for understanding, I really hope you’ll still enjoy my blog and my content!

NSFW Content

Because I was a minor up until last August, I wasn’t comfortable with writing smut or NSFW content. My views on NSFW content on tumblr have changed a lot in the past few months and I have realised that I am now responsible for the content that I decide to share with readers and followers. I am 18 years old and I now feel comfortable writing smut, meaning I will be posting NSFW fics on my blog starting now. However, I would like to make some things clear:

If you are under 18 years old, I ask that you do not interact with my NSFW content. You are allowed to read my other fanfiction and you are allowed to interact with my blog and with me, however, my NSFW content is off limits. I know that this won’t necessarily make sense to everyone, and I know people will be upset, but this is a boundary I will enforce for your own protection as well as my own. I really am sorry if you feel disappointed or feel excluded, but smut is written pornography and there is a reason why the law prohibits minors from interacting with it.

As a legal adult, I do not feel comfortable supplying minors with sexual content. All minors, including my friends/mutuals, will be blocked if they interact with my NSFW content, so I ask again: please do not interact with my NSFW content if you are under 18, regardless of where you live, where you’re from, and regardless of your past sexual experiences. I will not be making exceptions and this isn’t up for discussion. I really do not want to be rude or act pretentious, but this really is a necessity and I will be taking this seriously.

Like I said, I will now start writing smut, however I will only be writing smut about 18 year olds and above. I do not feel comfortable writing smut about minors, even if they are 16-17. I know that minors engage in sexual behaviour in real life, but like I said, I do not feel comfortable writing about it. I also will not be writing non-con content, nor will I write about incest or dubious consent content. I ask that you please respect my choice.

For the sake of transparency, I will keep tagging the sexual content on my blog as NSFW and I will add it in the warnings above my fanfiction every time. Again, I ask that you respect these boundaries if you are a minor. I also ask that the other adult creators tag my writings as NSFW if they decide to reblog them. Thank you!!

Lastly, because I am 18, I want to say that if you feel uncomfortable with me interacting with your content or talking to you, do not hesitate to tell me and I will respect your own boundaries. Friendships on tumblr are complicated because everyone can stay anonymous while maintaining relationships with each other, which can make some people very uncomfortable, especially minors. I will completely understand if you would rather I stay away from your blog.

What I Read

I love reading people’s fanfiction and I really try to be supportive of my friends and their content however I have realised that there are a few things I see that make me uncomfortable, which is why I have decided to tell you guys that I will not be reading NSFW content about real people anymore. I don’t judge creators that do write about real people, nor do I necessarily disagree with them, I just know that it doesn’t make me feel comfortable anymore so I will not be reading those kinds of fics anymore. I am really sorry if that upsets or disappoints you but I’m not going to force myself to read things that make me feel uneasy haha.

Also, I don’t think I have ever interacted with fanfiction that talks about someone’s real life trauma because it always made me feel extremely uncomfortable, and I don’t intend on starting now so please don’t tag me in content like that! I don’t want to disrespect your work or your writing, but I feel that there are certain boundaries we have to respect as “fans” and romanticising a real person’s personal trauma is just not right in my eyes (Dylan O’Brien’s accident for instance). Yes, this includes past relationships or exes (something I didn’t always respect but now I do).

Speaking of trauma, I would like to specify something.

I will not, and will never romanticise a character on here who’s personality revolves around his/her/their trauma (yes, even if it’s fictional). It was a big issue with Arvin Russell in the Tom Holland fandom, and it will be an even bigger issue when Cherry comes out. I used to read Mitch Rapp fanfiction, something that I don’t intend on doing anymore, unless it’s soft Mitch who’s resolved his issues haha. If a character’s entire story arc and trauma has turned them into a violent and mentally ill person, it is not something that I want to romanticise or fantasize about. It can be harmful because it reinforces the idea that toxic relationships and/or violence are romantic or sexy things. They aren’t.

What to expect on my blog for the next few months

I will be writing again in two weeks and here is what I’ve got cooking:

I will finish posting A Shitty Love Song

I will be writing a series about Harry Potter and an OC (this is a big project I’m taking on so I won’t be giving more details until I’ve really worked on it)

I will be writing a Fred Weasley series (will include smut so prepare yourselves haha)

I will be writing more Peter Parker one-shots and I might have some series ideas for later down the line

I will be writing more Drake Walker one-shots

I will be finishing writing the song blurb requests I got way back in November (im sorry it’s been so long!!)

I will also be starting a new weekly thing on my blog. I’ll explain the details in a couple of weeks but there will be a taglist so you guys get notified when we play <3

I WILL BE PLANNING A 1.2K FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION WHEN I’M DONE WITH EXAMS I LOVE U GUYS

I realise that this post is insanely long and not exactly fun to read, so if you’ve stuck around till the end, thank you so much!! Please respect the boundaries I have set for my blog and please try to understand where I’m coming from before you do anything haha. I really don’t mean to act all high and mighty or superior to anyone, I’m really not haha, but I do feel responsible for the content I share on here and this is a post I’ve been meaning to make for quite some time now. I love you guys so so so much, thank you for 1.2K followers!! I feel blessed and I am so so so excited to keep creating content for you and for myself. 2021 will be awesome <333333

tagging my mutuals and my forever tag+other posts tag:

News and Other Posts Tag

@stiles-o-dylan24 @duskholland @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @hcomet28 @decaffeinated--fangirl @teen--marvel @cheesecakes-randomshitz

Forever Tag

@stixnstripesworld @masterofbluff @drakewalker04 @superapplepie @apatheticanvas67482

Mutuals

@duskholland @thelittlestkitsune @apatheticanvas67482 @mrscutiefandobhaz @teen--marvel @aquariusholland @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @siriusly-harry @solstilla

#v rambles #blog psa #thank you for understanding #again #im sorry if i come off as rude or as pretentious!!#truly is not my intention #just think it's better that the boundaries are clearly stated and that everyone knows what to expect #love u guys!!

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