#WELCOME BACK N E R D | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slattlicker · 14 days ago

Text

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * B O Y W I T H T H E G R E E N F O L D E R ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮a high school au jschlatt x reader oneshot ↳ ~8.2k words · sfw · slow reveal, soft feelings, super anime-esque ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

✦ written with a female y/n in mind ✦ (but all are welcome to enjoy ♡)

there were noodles. there was boba. there are A LOT of feelings.

✧ ⊹ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ⊹ ✧

the classroom’s warm.

sunlight seeps through the window beside him, spilling over the desks and floor like honey. it hits the back of your head perfectly. too perfectly. and it’s making it impossible to think.

you’re just sitting there, twirling your pencil like you don’t know you’re driving him insane. like the light glinting off your earrings and the soft breeze ruffling your uniform skirt aren’t the most life-ruining things he’s ever witnessed.

schlatt’s supposed to be taking notes. but instead, his notebook is a battlefield of emotions: your name scribbled over and over again, in every style imaginable.

mrs. y/n schlatt. mr. and mrs. schlatt. y/n ♥ schlatt

one doodle has a banner. another has dramatic little wings and sparkles. there’s even one with a cowboy hat on the “s” because, for some reason, his brain short-circuited into yeehaw mode during third period.

he’s sick.

he knows it.

but god, he’s in love.

every little laugh, every time you bite your lip in thought, every time you tap your pen against your notebook—he memorizes it. hoards it. his brain’s just a slideshow of you.

because he tried talking to you once. in freshman year. some dumb group project. he stuttered over his own name. you smiled politely. offered to take the hardest part of the worksheet. didn’t even flinch when he knocked his pencil case off the desk.

you were nice.

which, unfortunately, made everything worse.

because you’ve always been nice. to everyone. you don’t just say good morning, you say it like it matters. you remember birthdays. lend people your charger. always have a pen.

you are, objectively, popular. not in a loud way—more like… effortlessly magnetic. people orbit you. they want to sit with you at lunch. they want you on their group projects. they want to be the reason you smile.

and schlatt? he’s tall and awkward and weirdly good at calculus. he plays bass in a band that’s never played live. he sits by the window because it’s easier to zone out during lectures. he’s the guy who trips over his own feet walking into class and then apologizes to the floorboards.

so yeah.

he doesn’t talk to you.

he writes you letters instead. pages and pages of them. some serious, some stupid, all tucked into a battered green folder in the bottom of his backpack. he’s never given you one. probably never will.

but he keeps writing them.

just in case.

and today—today was supposed to be like all the others.

he was going to watch you from afar. write down how the sunlight hit your hair. maybe draft a sonnet or two about your handwriting. normal, harmless, delusional things.

but then the bell rings—sharp and sudden—and schlatt jumps like it personally offended him. his pen flies out of his hand. his notebook slams shut. he starts packing up fast, head down, heart already racing.

he’ll go to the library, he thinks. or maybe the band room. he needs to get this down while it’s still fresh in his head. he’ll write a new letter. maybe the best one yet. maybe he’ll even sign it this time—

“hey.”

your voice.

his whole body freezes.

he looks up, slow. like maybe he imagined it. but no—you’re standing right there beside his desk, one hand on your hip, the other holding your bag. head tilted. smiling.

and oh god, he’s going to die.

he swallows hard, clutching the straps of his backpack like a lifeline. “h-hi.”

“wanna have lunch with me? i was gonna sit on the bridge today. maybe pick something up from the store instead of the caf.”

there’s a pause.

schlatt, in his head: this is it. this is the moment. say yes. just say yes. you’re literally in love with her. you’ve imagined marrying her in at least three different countries.

…and still, somehow, nothing comes out.

his mouth opens—then closes. then opens again. like a fish. a love-struck, socially inept, dying fish.

he swears his heart is beating in italics.

you asked him. you asked him. not the guy who sits behind him, not one of your pretty friends, not even as a joke. him.

and you’re waiting.

his brain, meanwhile, is throwing chairs. screaming. dialing 911.

“uh—i—uh,” he stammers, voice cracking like a damn glow stick. “y-yeah. i mean. if you—if you want. like—yeah. sure. cool.”

nailed it.

you blink. your mouth twitches. then you smile—wide, amused, like you heard every beat of that inner breakdown and found it a little endearing.

“cool,” you echo.

he’s still frozen. still clutching his backpack like it might launch him into space.

you reach out. take his hand.

he jolts like you touched him with a live wire.

you don’t flinch. don’t tease. just lift his hand slowly to your lips and press a kiss to the back of it. soft. casual. intentional.

“see you in a bit,” you say, as if he isn’t about to melt into the floor.

and then you turn, walking toward the door—your hair catching the sunlight, cherry blossoms drifting past the window like it’s the climax of some coming-of-age romance.

he stands there.

blinking.

buzzing.

then, very slowly, he sinks back into his chair.

and mutters, “holy shit.”

he’s not going to the library. he’s not writing anything. he’s going to walk across that bridge and pray he doesn’t pass out.

✧✧✧

he doesn’t go to the cafeteria.

he barely remembers how he got out of the building—just that he didn’t trip, and he didn’t throw up, and his legs kept moving even though his brain had short-circuited completely.

you kissed his hand.

you kissed his hand like it was normal. like you just go up to someone and do it on the regular.

he adjusts his backpack strap and rounds the corner by the main gate, trying not to overheat—and there you are.

waving at him like an idiot. like you're happy to see him.

the afternoon sun hits your hair. your skirt swishes. you’re beaming, weight rocking on your heels, a little bento sticker still stuck to your phone case.

“hey!” you call out, jog-walking the few steps toward him. “i was starting to think you bailed.”

“i—no—i wouldn’t—i just—” he fumbles over his words immediately, cringing as they trip out of his mouth like falling bricks. “i was coming. i came. i'm here.”

you laugh, already turning toward the sidewalk. “good. because i’ve decided i’m craving boba and noodles.”

he blinks. “...that's a pretty big lunch.”

“it’s the lunch of lovers, schlatt!”

he chokes. “wha—”

you grin up at him, teasing. “kidding. it just sounds better than cafeteria pizza.”

(he’d eat cafeteria pizza off the floor if you asked, but…you don’t have to know that.)

“i figured we could walk to the corner shop for the noodles, and then stop by the bubble tea place near the bus stop,” you say, looking up at him like it’s all the most natural thing in the world. “that okay?”

he nods, too fast. “yeah. yeah, totally. of course.”

your fingers brush his for half a second before you adjust your bag on your shoulder. he feels it all the way down to his spine.

you don’t seem to notice—just keep walking ahead a little, humming some song he doesn’t know, totally unbothered.

and schlatt… well, he tries to remember how to walk like a person.

✧✧✧

the noodle shop is small and warm, tucked between a flower kiosk and a dry cleaner. the windows fog slightly from the steam, and the scent of broth and garlic hits the second they step inside.

schlatt lets you order—because of course he does—and you flash him a quick grin before telling the cashier:

“one big bowl of the special. extra everything. two spoons.”

he blinks. two?

you’re already walking toward a corner booth, flopping down with a satisfied sigh and tugging your sleeves up to your elbows. he follows—awkward, lanky, trying not to knock anything over—and sits across from you.

the bowl arrives five minutes later, massive and gleaming. golden broth, handmade noodles, floating scallions, slices of pork and egg and chili oil glistening on top. the whole thing smells like heaven. two smaller bowls are set beside it, along with chopsticks and a little metal ladle.

you grin. “communal style. is that okay?”

he nods, too quickly. “yeah. totally. communal. love that.”

you snort, ladling broth into your own bowl and tugging noodles from the pot with practiced ease. schlatt mimics you awkwardly, his chopsticks nearly slipping out of his hand twice before he manages to scoop a modest serving.

“hope you’re hungry,” you say, grinning. “i know i am.”

he nods. “y-yeah. totally. starving.”

which is… half-true. he is starving. he always is by lunch, especially after skipping breakfast (again), especially after third period (the longest in human history), especially when he’s nervous (which he always is around you). but he’s barely touched his small bowl, dragging the noodles around like he’s being graded on etiquette.

you glance at him. then at his bowl.

“you eat like someone’s watching you through a window.”

he jolts. “what?”

“you’re starving,” you say simply, already scooping a few more noodles into his bowl with your chopsticks. “but you’re being weird about it. no one’s judging you. just eat.”

he blinks. “you don’t have to—”

“yeah, i do. that’s kind of why i invited you.”

that makes him freeze.

you keep assembling your own bowl, tipping in extra garlic and chili oil like it’s second nature. still not looking at him when you add, casual as anything:

“you always look like you’re about to eat your notebook by fifth period.”

he stares.

“i figured you skip breakfast,” you continue, calm and matter-of-fact. “and the cafeteria lunches aren’t exactly made for guys like you. so. i figured i’d get you a real lunch. or… y’know. split one. even if it’s more of a 20-80 kind of deal.”

his mouth opens, then closes. “o-oh. thanks.”

you glance up, smiling faintly. “it’s all good. as long as i get all the fishcakes.”

and then you’re back to eating like nothing happened.

meanwhile, schlatt’s brain is screaming.

you noticed him. not just in the polite, surface-level way classmates notice each other—but really noticed. enough to clock his eating habits. enough to care. enough to invite him to lunch. buy food. share a bowl. use your own chopsticks to top off his plate like it’s normal.

he slurps a few noodles, still trying to play it cool. still trying not to inhale the whole bowl like he hasn’t eaten all day—which, honestly, he hasn’t. he’s a big guy. he eats a lot. but right now, he’s eating like a victorian orphan in a candy shop, wide-eyed and grateful, because the girl he’s head-over-heels for just casually said she wanted to be the one to make sure he's well fed.

and now she’s laughing at a dumb pun she made about scallions. and bumping his foot under the table when he doesn’t respond fast enough. and brushing her fingers against his when she passes him a napkin.

you’re mid-bite when you ask it—simple, offhand, like you’re just passing time.

“so... do you go out a lot?”

schlatt’s chopsticks stall just short of his mouth.

he blinks. chews. swallows. “uh. like… with people?”

you raise an eyebrow, grinning around the rim of your water cup. “yeah. like… friends, dates, whatever.”

schlatt tries not to choke on air. “oh. uh. not really. i mean—sometimes. mostly with charlie or travis or, like, for gaming stuff. not really… dating.”

not really ever.

his brain is already short-circuiting. because what the hell kind of question is that? why would you ask that unless—no. no, don’t spiral.

you hum, popping a piece of tofu into your mouth. “mm. i kinda figured. you’re hard to read sometimes.”

he fidgets with his chopsticks, nervous now that the spotlight’s back on him. “why’d you figure that?”

you shrug, like it’s obvious. “i don’t know. you don’t talk much in class. you’re always drawing or writing stuff. people assume you’re quiet ‘cause you’re shy, but i think you’re just private.”

he stares at you.

you look back, relaxed, legs swinging slightly under the bench. like you’re not unraveling him.

“you’re not wrong,” he mumbles.

you smile—genuine, warm. it makes his stomach flip. “so. what would you do if someone confessed to you?”

schlatt freezes.

his mind leaps to the green folder. the dozens of unsent letters. the way he almost included pressed cherry blossoms in one. he’s not equipped for this.

“uh. what kind of… confession?”

you laugh, tipping your head. “you know. like one of those corny schoolyard things. letter in your locker. gift on your desk. ‘meet me after class, i like you’ kinda thing.”

his ears go pink. “i… i don’t know. probably combust.”

you giggle into your hand. “nooo. you’d be sweet. i think you’d be nice about it.”

you say it like you know. like you’ve imagined it. which—god. maybe you have…?

“have… you gotten a lot of those? confessions, i mean,” he asks, trying to sound casual, but it comes out strangled.

you shrug again, fiddling with your napkin. “some. i usually know it’s coming, though. they get all nervous, leave notes. sometimes i get snacks or keychains. last one tried to give me a frog plushie.”

“a frog?”

“yeah. i like frogs. it was actually really cute. i still talk to him.”

schlatt’s heart plummets. he picks at his noodles, half-listening, half-mourning his already nonexistent chances.

you still talk to that guy.

of course you do. you’re nice. you’re charming. you probably keep a perfectly organized box of old love letters, too, just to make sure no one’s feelings get thrown out with the recycling.

he swirls a bit of broth in his bowl. “so… what kind of guy do you like?”

you pause, mid-sip, giving him a look that’s not quite teasing, not quite surprised. just curious.

he tries to keep his voice neutral. “i mean—you get, like, confessed to all the time, right? so you’ve gotta have, like… a type.”

“i guess…” you rest your chin on your hand, spinning your chopsticks between your fingers. “i like guys who are tall. really tall. like... have-to-duck-through-doorways tall. not lanky-tall, though—like, big-tall. broad.”

schlatt clears his throat, sitting very slightly lower in his seat. tall. he is so tall.

“and i think it’s cute when they get blushy for no reason,” you say, absentmindedly stirring your noodles. “like, i’ll just say hi, and they look like they ran a mile.”

schlatt stares down at his bowl like it just personally betrayed him. his face is already hot—he can feel it, the flush creeping down his neck—and he desperately hopes the lighting in here is dim enough to hide it.

you hum, smile curling soft at the edges. “oh, and guys who write stuff. not like, ‘oh, i journaled once because my therapist told me to,’ but real stuff. like, hamilton-level pages on pages on pages. letters they never send. scripts they never show anyone.”

his grip tightens on his chopsticks. the green folder in his bag practically burns a hole through the canvas. his brain flashes with the line he scrawled at 2 a.m.—'your laugh should come with a warning label. dangerous levels of adorable.'

“i literally fall for the ones who overthink everything,” you say, voice light, totally unaware that you are currently cracking him open like a lobster shell. “like, the type who thinks ‘how was your day’ is a trap. just spirals and spirals and then lies awake all night dissecting the conversation.”

he is absolutely being read for filth.

“and maybe someone who video games?” you add, lifting your water to your lips. “but not like, ‘screams in the headset and doesn’t shower’ gamer. i mean the kind who plays after class, maybe streams sometimes. doesn’t make it his whole life - it’s actually just for fun.”

he swallows. hard.

you glance at him over the rim of your cup. “i love techy guys, too. but not in a ‘new iphone’ way. like, give me physical media. give me vhs tapes and dvds and that one shelf of old movies no one wants to lend out. someone who loves watching movies about how good life is when you slow down..”

he thinks he might throw up.

because this is... this is him. every single word. somehow he’s been peeled apart, laid flat on the table, and described like a character in your story. and you’re just—talking. so casually. like this isn’t the most intense thing anyone’s ever said to him without actually saying it.

he pokes at a chili flake with his chopsticks, voice hoarse when he finally manages, “sounds like a pretty specific guy.”

you smile. shrug. “yeah. kinda impossible to find.”

you sip your water.

he stares.

he does not sip anything.

because his entire body is malfunctioning and he’s 98% sure he’s being toyed with by the universe, or something.

✧✧✧

the walk to the boba shop is short—but it feels longer with you beside him.

you keep pace just slightly behind his stride, your shoulder brushing his arm now and then. he notices. of course he notices. he starts adjusting his steps, trying to match yours, but then that feels too obvious, so he goes back to normal, which means you keep doing this little half-skip to keep up.

he doesn’t say anything. but he’s thinking about it.

he’s thinking about how small your hand looked around his when you kissed it. how your shoes make that little click every time you catch up to him again. how he probably looks like your bodyguard. or your older brother. (god, no—never mind. what is wrong with him, ugh!)

he clears his throat. “hot out today.”

you hum, squinting up at the sky. “mhm. feels like a brown sugar kind of day.”

he swallows. “with oat milk?”

you blink at him. “yeah.”

“you usually get it on hot days,” he mumbles.

you tilt your head, smiling. “you’ve been watching my boba orders?”

“no—! i mean—not like that. just… you ordered it last week on the school trip. and during midterms. and i saw you after my rehearsal that one time.”

“totally not tracking it, huh?”

“i just have a good memory,” he mutters.

you snort. “alright, memory boy. what do you think i’m getting today?”

he glances at you. hesitates. “brown sugar, oat milk, extra pearls, light ice.”

you grin. “ding ding ding.”

his ears turn pink.

when the shop comes into view, you both pause outside the door. it’s small and sunny inside, vines creeping down from the window ledge, a tiny chalkboard sign listing the seasonal specials.

“your turn,” you say.

schlatt raises a brow. “huh?”

“you guessed mine. let me guess yours.”

he opens the door for you. “you won’t get it.”

“wanna bet?”

he huffs. “sure.”

you both step into the cool, tea-scented air of the shop, and you immediately turn to the cashier with a smile. “one brown sugar oat milk, extra pearls, light ice—and a taro, half sugar, with egg pudding and no ice.”

schlatt freezes.

you glance back. “did i win?”

he blinks. “how did you…”

you shrug. “you ordered it after the fall pep rally. and after finals. and that time you bombed your calc quiz.”

he stares at you.

you raise your eyebrows, smiling. “i've got a good memory.”

he doesn’t say anything. just watches as you pay before he can even reach for his wallet. again.

and when you turn to wait at the pickup counter, looking utterly unbothered, he’s pretty sure he’s going to have a full-blown meltdown.

you guessed his order. you remembered details about his life he didn’t even know he’d revealed. you’re standing next to him in a sunlit boba shop like this is a date. his heart is being strummed like his bass guitar.

the drinks come out with a soft ding, and you’re the one to grab them, handing schlatt his taro without ceremony.

“thanks,” he mutters, wrapping his hands around the plastic covered cup like it might anchor him to earth.

you plop down on the little bench outside the shop—half in sun, half in shade—and kick your feet out with a satisfied sigh. he follows, careful to keep a bit of space between you. not too much. just… enough to think straight. kind of.

you take a long sip of your drink, then glance at him over the rim of your straw. “you know, your order says a lot about you.”

he blinks. “what?”

“boba orders. personality test. super accurate.”

he raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “you’re joking.”

“nope.” you tap your straw against your lid. “taro’s a classic comfort flavor. safe. steady. a little nostalgic. and you ordered it with egg pudding, which means you’re secretly a softie.”

he opens his mouth. closes it. “that’s…”

you smile, smug. “true?”

“i was gonna say bullshit.”

you cackle. “same thing.”

he watches you sip again, straw clicking against the ice, and tries not to get distracted by the curve of your smile or the way the sun catches in your lashes.

you continue, casual as anything. “also, no ice means you like control. you want things how you want them. predictable.”

“i don’t like brain freeze.”

“control,” you say again, nodding with mock-seriousness.

he scrunches his nose. “fine. what’s your flavor say about you, then?”

“brown sugar, oat milk, extra pearls, light ice?” you echo. “easy. i’m adventurous, but emotionally grounded. extroverted. likes to have fun. sucker for texture. totally down to stir the pot—” you lean in, eyes gleaming. “—but only when i know i’ll win.”

he chokes on a laugh, taking a very long sip of his drink to recover. “that sounds fake.”

“it’s science, actually.”

“remind me never to let you psychoanalyze my lunch order.”

“oh, i already have,” you say sweetly. “you took exactly three bites before slowing down to take a sip of water. that means you were trying to be polite. which means you were raised right. but your eyes kept drifting to the bowl, which means you can be food-motivated, and that’s probably half the reason you agreed to come.”

he groans. “please stop.”

“also means you’re big,” you continue, cheerfully ignoring him. “like, obviously you’re tall, but you’ve got a big appetite. big frame. big heart. big… everything.”

you pause, smile twitching, like you’re trying not to laugh at your own implications.

he goes pink. again.

“stop analyzing me,” he mumbles, slurping violently at his straw to hide it.

“you’re the one who guessed my drink first.”

there’s a beat of silence—quiet, but warm. the kind that settles when two people are sipping the same kind of sweet and the same kind of slow, letting the buzz of the afternoon soften everything around them.

“wanna walk a bit?” you ask, tilting your cup toward the road. “before we gotta go back?”

he nods. “yeah. yeah, okay.”

you both rise. the bench creaks. his cup’s half-empty already—nerves and thirst don’t mix well—and he silently curses how fast it’s already gone.

you’re beside him again, shoes clicking lightly against the sidewalk. your pace is slow. measured. there’s a corner up ahead shaded by cherry trees. some leftover petals scatter along the edge of the sidewalk. he watches your hair move in the breeze, the way you shift your drink from one hand to the other, and something about it—about you—feels so close and so far at the same time.

he wonders if you can hear his heart from where you stand.

and then you say, “hey.”

he looks at you.

you’re already looking at him.

“you know what i think?” you ask, voice a little quieter, smile a little smaller.

he shakes his head.

“i think…” you swing your drink slightly by your side. “i think you’d be a really good boyfriend, for someone. if they were what you wanted.”

his brain bluescreens.

you don’t wait for a reaction. just keep walking, sipping, like you didn’t just set off an internal nuclear event in his chest. like it’s just a passing comment. like the sidewalk didn’t just tilt thirty degrees beneath his feet.

✧✧✧

he’s still trying to reboot his entire nervous system when you both reach the school gate.

the cherry blossoms are thicker here, brushing against the chain-link fence. it’s warm now—late afternoon golden, the kind of heat that makes everything feel like it’s glowing softly. your hair’s catching the light again. your drink is almost gone. your hand brushes his again.

and he’s reeling.

you’d be a really good boyfriend.

you said it like a thought. like an observation. like something you already believed.

he’s never walked so straight in his life. never thought so hard about the placement of his arms. his fingers. his breath.

and then someone calls your name.

loud. nervous. fast footsteps behind.

“hey! hey, y/n, wait up—!”

you turn. schlatt does too.

there’s a boy. not from your class, he thinks—maybe first year. shorter than you. holding something behind his back. his tie is crooked and his cheeks are bright red, and he skids to a stop a few feet away from you, panting.

“i—i wanted to—”

you blink. “oh.”

the boy shuffles. brings his hands forward.

a box. wrapped in silver paper with little frogs printed on the sides.

schlatt’s stomach drops.

“i made these,” the boy says quickly. “frogs. well—not real frogs! candy. little gummies. i, uh. i heard you liked frogs? so i… um. i do too. i mean—i like you. i like you.”

schlatt stands still. silent. watching. entirely unsure what to do with his hands, his drink, or his existence.

you take the box gently, fingers brushing the kid’s.

you’re smiling.

but it’s not the same as it was a second ago.

schlatt notices it immediately. the smile’s softer. kind. warm, but distant. there’s a wall in it. a barrier. it’s practiced.

“thank you,” you say. “that’s really sweet.”

the boy laughs—high-pitched and anxious. “so, um—does that mean—?”

“i’m really flattered,” you say gently. “but i don’t think it’d be fair to say yes when i don’t feel the same. i hope that’s okay.”

the boy blinks. his smile falters, but he nods. “oh. yeah. i mean. yeah.”

“i like talking to you, though! i hope we can still do that.”

“…yeah. i’d like that.”

you nod. and just like that, the whole thing’s done.

you watch him walk away. then turn back to schlatt like nothing happened.

but something is different.

he sees it the second your eyes shift. the moment the kid’s out of earshot, something in your shoulders slumps—not much, not dramatic, just enough to notice. your smile doesn’t fall exactly�� but it changes. less performative. less curated. less like the school’s favorite girl handling the situation with grace, and more like…

more like you.

your gaze flicks toward schlatt’s for only a second. then down at the ground. you exhale.

“always feels a little shitty,” you say, voice lower now. “even when you do it right.”

he doesn’t know what to say. not yet. he’s still watching the way your hand curls around your basically empty cup tighter. the way your mouth twitches like you’re trying not to frown.

“not ‘cause i feel bad saying no,” you continue. “but it’s just—tiring, i guess. being someone people like so much. it…doesn’t feel real.”

his stomach twists.

because this—this version of you? it’s so far from the bright, easygoing persona everyone sees. it’s not bubbly. not bulletproof. it’s quiet. honest. like you’re letting yourself stop performing.

and it’s hitting him all at once: the way you looked at that kid—kind, but detached. how fast you stepped back into the role of you, the version people expect.

and then there’s him.

the weird, shy kid who stumbles over his own sentences, who didn’t say anything clever or flirty or impressive all day, all year—and yet you invited him to lunch. shared your noodles. walked in step. remembered his boba order. kissed his hand. talked to him like you weren’t trying to be liked—just trying to be close with him.

and before he even registers it, before he can run the moment through the hundred mental checks he usually does—

“wanna come over?”

you blink. “huh?”

oh no.

his heart immediately slams against his ribs. “i mean—! you don’t have to, it’s just—uh, my house is, like, five minutes from here? and my mom’s probably not visiting today. i mean—not in a bad way, i just thought, like—if you weren’t busy, or—”

you’re staring at him. not weirded out. just… surprised. and a little amused.

he starts spiraling.

“i have snacks,” he adds, like that’ll save it. “and movies. and air conditioning. if you—like air. and conditioning.”

oh my god, he thinks. i’m going to eat drywall.

you smile. and tilt your head again, that same unreadable expression on your face.

“…yeah,” you say softly. “i’d like that. i'd really, really like that.”

his stomach does something inhuman. his brain is already short-circuiting, imagining you on his couch, in his space, next to him.

and then—

“oh,” he blurts. “i—i meant after school. not like—right now. unless you wanna skip. not that i’m asking you to skip. that would be irresponsible. i respect education. i just—yeah. after school.”

you snort. “relax, valedictorian. i got it.”

“i’m not valedictorian.”

“yet.”

you start walking again, totally at ease once more, sipping the last of your boba like he didn’t just fumble through seventeen disclaimers. he follows, stunned. lightheaded.

and now, not only does he have to survive the rest of the school day—he has to do it knowing you’re coming over afterward.

god help him.

✧✧✧

the final bell rings.

schlatt barely hears it.

his whole day’s been a blur—barely coherent notes, teachers asking if he’s feeling alright, charlie throwing paper at his head when he completely spaces out during group work. he’s just been counting the hours. the minutes. the seconds until the end of the day, until he can breathe again, until he sees you again.

he heads to the getabako—the rows of wooden cubbies where everyone stores their shoes—trying to act normal, trying not to look like he’s just run a marathon fueled entirely by nerves and caffeine-free anxiety.

and then he sees you. already there. already waiting.

you’re crouched by your cubby, switching your indoor shoes for your regular ones, hair slipping over your shoulder. you glance up when you hear him, and your whole face lights up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“hey,” you say, easy and familiar. “i figured i’d catch you here.”

his stomach flips. “you… were waiting for me?”

you nod, shifting your weight as you close your cubby. “well, yeah. i realized i don’t have your number. or your address. so i figured i’d just walk with you.”

he blinks. “walk with me?”

“to your place?” you say it like a question, like you’re checking to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind. “unless that invitation from earlier was just, like... heatstroke-induced.”

“no! i mean—yes. yes, it was real.” he fumbles with his laces, nearly trips over his own foot. “you can totally come. i just—yeah. i should’ve given you my number or something.”

you laugh. “you were a little busy malfunctioning.”

he flushes. “was not.”

“were too,” you grin, bumping your shoulder into his as the two of you walk toward the school gate together.

he ducks his head again, heart thudding like crazy, barely noticing that he’s started smiling.

you’re halfway down the path to the school gate when schlatt’s eyes flick toward the bike rack. his old rust-red frame is still there, locked up in its usual spot, tucked behind the hydrangea bushes that never get enough sun.

he hesitates—just for a second.

you notice.

“what?” you ask, glancing over.

he shrugs, half-smiling. “was just thinking about walking. didn’t expect company.”

you follow his gaze. “that your bike?”

he nods.

you tilt your head, thoughtful. “you always ride home?”

“usually,” he says. “it’s quicker. my house isn’t that far, but—”

“then let’s ride,” you interrupt, grinning as you step ahead and unloop the lock before he can stop you.

he blinks. “wait—you wanna ride? like, both of us?”

“sure,” you say, as if it’s obvious. “i’ll hop on the pegs.”

“the… pegs?”

you gesture behind the seat. “yeah, dork. you’ve got ‘em. you think i can’t balance?”

“i—i didn’t say that,” he stammers, fumbling to adjust the handlebars and kick up the stand. “i just didn’t think you’d wanna—”

“i do,” you say, already stepping around to the back of the bike. “now c’mon. pedal, chauffeur.”

he stares as you adjust your bag, step in close, and rest your hands lightly on his shoulders. there’s a quiet confidence in the way you move—like this isn’t new to you, like you’ve done it before, but never with him.

then you push up onto the pegs in one smooth motion, settling behind him, the warmth of you suddenly pressed against his back.

close. so close he can feel the shift of your weight, the soft exhale of your breath brushing his neck as you lean in and murmur—

“try not to crash, romeo.”

he doesn’t. but only because he pedals like his life depends on it.

✧✧✧

when you arrive, schlatt hops off the bike first and immediately fumbles with his keys, nearly dropping them twice. you tilt your head at him, amused, as he shifts his bag and mumbles something about “just a sec.”

he cracks the door open a few inches, peeks inside like he’s preparing for battle, then turns back to you. “uh—can you wait out here? just for, like… two minutes?”

you blink. “sure?”

he nods, already disappearing inside with a frantic “thanks!” before the door clicks shut behind him.

inside: muffled chaos.

there’s the sound of shuffling papers. a clatter of something hitting the floor. a chair screeches against the tile. a cabinet slams. you think you hear the microwave door open and close three times in a row.

you wait. patiently. leaning against the railing of the narrow walkway, shifting the weight of your backpack and holding the bike upright. seems like schlatt keeps it inside with him…doesn’t seem to be a bike rack outside the complex.

inside, schlatt is moving like a man possessed—sweeping crumpled papers off his desk, yanking dirty shirts off the back of a chair, trying to stuff all evidence of an unsupervised teenage existence into drawers, corners, anywhere.

the living room looks half-decent. the kitchen? he doesn’t even bother. the living room matters most. and maybe, his room.

he flings open his bedroom window to let in air, runs a hand through his hair, and takes exactly one deep breath before opening the front door again.

“okay,” he says, trying to sound calm, like he hasn’t just done a five-minute triathlon. “you can come in.”

✧✧✧

it’s small—but not cramped. a little studio-style place with a connected kitchen and living room, clean enough to suggest he’d panicked and straightened up just before you got there. the couch is worn but comfy-looking, and the tv’s flanked by a stack of vhs tapes and half-finished notebooks.

as you walk in, you pass an open door—just a glimpse into his bedroom.

the lights are off. bed half-made. a hoodie draped over a desk chair. you catch the soft hum of a fan and the edge of a cluttered nightstand before you move on.

the bathroom’s tucked inside, past the bed—ensuite, apparently.

“sorry,” schlatt mutters, kicking off his shoes and nervously smoothing down the hem of his shirt. “i cleaned a little, but—i wasn’t expecting, like… company.”

“it’s cute,” you say, setting your bag down by the couch.

his head snaps up. “it is?”

you nod, already wandering toward his vhs pile like you’ve been here before. “has personality. lived-in. smells like cinnamon gum and laundry detergent. very you.”

he clears his throat and nearly trips over a laundry basket trying to make room on the table. “you, uh—you wanna do homework? i’ve got snacks. water. sodas. i think there’s tea—”

you glance at him over your shoulder, smile teasing. “boring.”

he blinks. “what?”

“homework. c’mon. it’s friday. you really invited me over to finish worksheets?”

“i—i didn’t—”

you sit down on the couch, pat the space beside you. “let’s play something.”

he pauses mid-step. “like… video games?”

you tilt your head. “like truth or dare.”

a beat.

he looks like you just challenged him to a duel.

“truth or—?” he coughs. “that’s… elementary school stuff.”

you shrug. “only if you’re boring about it.”

“i’m not boring.”

you raise a brow. “then sit down and prove it.”

he does—like a man on his way to the electric chair.

the couch dips under his weight, and for a second you both just sit there, close but not quite touching, the space between you electric. you tuck your legs under you. he fiddles with a frayed thread on one of the couch cushions.

you grin. “truth or dare?”

he shifts, clearly panicking already. “…truth.”

you lean in just slightly. “were you surprised that i said yes when you invited me over today?”

he goes still.

then: “yes,” he says, barely above a whisper.

you smile, slow and satisfied. “thought so.”

his ears are bright red. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” you say, without hesitation.

his mind goes blank for a second. then: “why me?”

you blink. “why you what?”

“why’d you ask me to lunch today?”

you pause. not in hesitation, but consideration.

then you say, very simply, “i wanted to.”

and you lean your head back against the couch like it’s nothing. like you didn’t just lob a stick of dynamite into his chest and light the fuse.

he swallows. “your turn again.”

you smile. "dare or dare, schlatt?"

his breath catches. “that’s… not how the game works.”

you tilt your head, grinning. “is now.”

he stares at you. stares a little too long. and then, cautiously—like he’s stepping into a trap he wants to fall into—he says, “...dare.”

your grin widens. “i dare you to let me sit on your lap.”

he chokes. actually chokes.

“wha—here?! on my couch?!”

you raise your eyebrows. “is there another couch i don’t know about?”

he opens his mouth. closes it. glances around the room like he’s hoping to find an escape hatch behind the vhs tapes. but there’s nothing. just you. just this moment.

and oh god, you’re already moving.

you shift forward, like it’s the most normal thing in the world—and settle across his thighs, knees tucked beside him on the cushion. he’s stiff as a board beneath you, arms frozen at his sides like if he moves an inch, the universe might implode.

you look up at him, smirking. “you okay?”

“uh-huh,” he says, very unconvincingly.

you lean in just slightly, voice dropping. “you sure? you’re not internally combusting or anything?”

“i’m fine,” he says, squeaky and desperate.

you laugh. you actually laugh, and it’s so warm and real that he forgets how to breathe for a second.

then you lean back—just enough to rest your head on his shoulder, hands fidgeting lightly with the edge of his sleeve.

“you’re warm,” you murmur.

he is. he’s burning up, actually.

“is this… the dare? did i do it?” he manages.

you hum. “mhmm.”

“okay,” he says. “cool. normal.”

“totally normal,” you echo.

and then—so casually it kills him—you add, “feel free to ask when you’ve caught your breath.”

he swallows. feels his forehead sweating. but he nods. "dare or dare, y/n?"

“dare.”

it’s not fair—how confident you are. how steady. you say it like you’ve already won something. like you know exactly what you’re doing sitting on his lap, fingertips brushing his sleeve, your head so close he can smell your shampoo.

schlatt, on the other hand, is trying to survive.

his brain scrambles for something. anything. not too soft. not too bold. not too weird. but also not boring. you’re sitting on him like you belong there. he has to come up with something that makes you stay.

“i dare you…” he starts, brain blanking entirely.

you wait, one eyebrow raised, perched so confidently on his lap you might as well be sitting on a throne.

and then—he panics.

“i dare you to… put your face really close to mine.”

you blink. but you don’t laugh. you don’t tease. you just grin. slow. foxlike.

“oh?” you say, all innocent. “really close?”

he nods, stiff. “y-yeah.”

“like this?”

you lean in, stopping barely an inch from his face.

he can feel your breath now. warm. sweet. brown sugar type of sweet. sees the little flecks of color in your eyes.

“or closer?” you whisper.

he’s not breathing. he’s sure of it. his hands are hovering again—not on you, not off you, just there, like he’s buffering.

you shift. slow. smooth.

one leg swings over his lap, settling on the other side of his hips—and now you’re straddling him. facing him. close enough that your knees bracket his thighs, your hands rest lightly on his shoulders, your nose barely a breath from his.

he forgets how to exist.

you smile. “my turn, right?”

he nods. barely.

“dare or dare, schlatt?”

his voice cracks. “dare.”

your grin sharpens. sweet and devastating.

“i dare you,” you whisper, “to confess already.”

his brain—his entire soul—short circuits.

you’re watching him like it’s nothing. like you didn’t just strip him emotionally bare. like you haven’t been unraveling him all day with every shared sip, every soft glance, every perfectly-aimed, casually-spoken dagger.

“i—uh—”

“c’mon,” you tease, tilting your head. “unless...you don't like me?"

he opens his mouth. closes it. his hands flutter uselessly at your sides before finally, finally landing gently on your hips.

“y/n,” he says, soft and wrecked.

his hands are trembling a little where they rest on your hips. his mouth opens—then closes again, like he’s trying to catch up with the weight of what he wants to say. but when he looks at you, really looks at you, it just... spills out.

“i like you,” he starts, breathless. “i mean—i’ve liked you. since the first week of school. since you sat by the window and got mad at the vending machine for eating your dollar.”

his voice is soft, shaky. but he keeps going.

“i like you so much it physically hurts sometimes. like—like, i’ll be in the middle of math class, staring at a graph, and suddenly i’m thinking about the way you tie your shoelaces. all braided up.”

you blink back what he thinks are tears. he swallows hard.

“i write about you,” he admits, eyes wide. “not in, like, a creepy way—but in this really stupid, sappy way. i write poems about your handwriting. i’ve drafted letters about your laugh. i—i know how you take your tea. i know which boba you order when it’s hot out. i know you hum when you’re thinking really hard, and that you only wear your hair clipped back like that on rainy days.”

your breath catches.

he laughs, just barely—more like a nervous exhale—but it’s wet around the edges, like his chest can’t quite hold everything in.

“i know it’s ridiculous,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “i know i’ve barely said a full sentence to you before today without turning into a puddle. but i’ve thought about you. so much. not in a daydreamy, fairytale kind of way. in the real, little ways.”

his voice gets quieter. more tender.

“like how i wonder if you’re sleeping okay when you yawn through first period. or if you’re stressed when you chew your pen cap. or how your nail polish changes color when you’ve had a rough week. i just… i care. so much. more than i know what to do with.”

his fingers twitch gently at your waist. his eyes search yours—wide and hopeful and aching.

“i think you’re brilliant. and cool. and funny. and a little scary in the best way. and i never thought i’d be lucky enough to sit nearby you—let alone have you in my lap, looking at me like i didn’t just overshare myself into oblivion.”

a beat.

“i think you’re the best part of my day. every day.”

he shudders, his shoulders dropping – like a huge weight has been taken off of him. but his eyes linger on you, searching for that same fake smile you gave the freshman earlier today.

you stare at him. and then, slowly, you smile. your real smile.

your voice, when it comes, is quiet. honest. almost a whisper.

“i liked you first.”

his breath hitches.

��i mean—first first.” you laugh, soft and self-conscious. “first day of school. before anyone had even learned your name. you sat behind me, and you dropped your pencil three times, and i just... i knew.”

schlatt stares like he can’t believe the words are real.

“i thought you were cute,” you admit, cheeks heating. “and tall. and weird. and kind of grumpy-looking, but in this really endearing way. and then i saw your notebook—covered in dumb doodles and scribbles and little pixel hearts—and i was done for.”

he blinks. “wait, what—”

“i watched you go red every time i looked at you. i thought, oh. that’s what a crush looks like.” you grin, ducking your head. “and i waited, schlatt. i waited so long for you to talk to me.”

his mouth opens. closes.

you lean in, forehead brushing his. “all those other guys, the ones who gave me flowers and candy and love letters—i turned them down because none of them were you. i didn’t want some perfect confession. i just wanted you. fumbling, awkward, way-too-tall you.”

he lets out a broken laugh. “are you messing with me?”

“i’m not,” you whisper. “i used to make excuses to pass by your locker. i figured out your class schedule. i wanted to talk with you more, without using homework as an excuse.”

schlatt looks like he’s about to combust. “you stalked me?”

“lightly,” you clarify, giggling. “i call it strategic observation.”

his hands curl a little tighter at your waist, grounding himself. “you’ve liked me this whole time?”

“i like you, schlatt. present tense. deeply. disgustingly.” you shift in his lap, just a little, voice softening again. “i thought you’d never confess. i was this close to doing it myself.”

he stares, eyes wide. face flushed.

you’re still in his lap.

still staring at each other.

still suspended in this moment of soul-baring, reality-shattering honesty—and schlatt, for a second, looks like he might short-circuit all over again.

he blinks. once. twice. his hands twitch on your waist.

and then he blurts, “wait—wait, wait—hold on, this is real? like—this is happening? you—you like me? like, for real? not just like ‘hey, you’re kinda funny sometimes,’ but like—like-like?”

you open your mouth to answer, but it’s already too late. the spiral has begun.

“i mean—god, you’re literally in my lap right now,” he rushes on, voice gaining speed. “you’re saying you’ve liked me since the beginning and i’ve been sitting in class writing poetry like some 18th-century wench with a disease and—you already knew? you could tell?!”

you laugh, but he keeps going, eyes wide, rambling now.

“and i didn’t even know how to start talking to you, because you’re just—you, and i’m—me. and today wasn’t even supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to invite me to lunch. you weren’t supposed to know my boba order or kiss my hand like that or sit in my lap, and now you’re here and you’re saying all that, and i think i’m having some kind of stroke.”

you blink at him.

then you sigh.

then you grab both sides of his face.

“schlatt.”

he freezes.

you lean in, forehead pressed to his. your voice is low. steady.

“i had to dare you to confess.”

he just stares.

you lift your brows. “do you know how embarrassing that is? i literally had to make up a game just to get you to say something. i am sitting on your–”

he kisses you.

it’s warm and soft and slow—the kind of kiss that says i wanted this for so long, and maybe also, i’m so sorry that i’m really bad at picking up signals.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, breath shaky. “you’re right,” he mumbles. “you had to go through all that just to get me to admit i like you. and i guess i just… didn’t want to waste more time asking if i could kiss the girl who already likes me back.”

you blink at him.

he looks wrecked in the sweetest way. flushed and wide-eyed and still trembling a little, but there’s a spark there now—something bolder underneath all the softness.

you blink again. then laugh, breathless.

“oh, now you grow a spine?”

he ducks his head, hiding a grin against your collarbone. “shut up.”

“no. this is so unfair. you’re supposed to be the shy one.”

he groans. “i am the shy one.”

you grab his face and press your lips to his—firm and smiling and a little triumphant. tilt your head and kiss him again.

and again.

because you can.

because you want to.

because finally.

#UGH BE STILL MY BEATING HEART #i luv a shy schlatt #also i like to imagine this takes place in the same place as wherever ace attorney takes place #a mix of LA and Japan #something like that #vuewrites #jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt headcanons #jschlatt imagines #schlatt imagines #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you

124 notes · View notes

practically-an-x-man · 11 months ago

Text

OC/Ship Ask Game: Firsts

We're back with another super-long ask game! Send a number + a character/ship for a description of their "first"... plus a couple questions for the author as well :D

If you reblog, please send asks up and down the chain for reblog courtesy! It's not a requirement but it does make things more fun for everybody 😊

____

For the Character:

First big aspiration (i.e. what did they want to be when they grew up?)

First time meeting their best friend

First opinion of school as a kid

First time experiencing grief

First time breaking a bone

First time they realized their "calling" in life

First time they experimented with their personal style

First time they took a risk, or the biggest risk they've ever taken

First time living away from home

First time adopting/taking care of a pet

First "big purchase" they ever made on their own

First time leaving their home country

First time being drunk/high

First time facing their fears

First thing they remember feeling proud of

First thing they remembered feeling ashamed of

First favorites - favorite color, animal, movie, etc.

First example of real character growth along their journey

First time they felt rejected by another character

First time they felt accepted/welcomed by another character

First major change in their life, and how they dealt with it

First introduction in their story (share a snippet or description)

First display of their powers or abilities

First major loss/failure in their story

First major success in their story

____

For the Ship:

A. First meeting B. First impression of each other C. First physical contact (handshake? hug? something else?) D. First kiss E. First time meeting the other's family F. First date G. First time seeing the other one sick/injured H. First time sharing a bed (non-sexual) I. First time sleeping together (sexual) J. First concert/show/festival they attended together K. First fight L. ....And the first time they had to make up M. First time they introduced the other as their partner N. First road-trip/vacation together O. First double-date with another couple P. First time seeing the other all dressed up Q. First act of non-sexual intimacy (e.g. washing the other's hair, taking a bath together, sharing food) R. First time cooking for the other S. First anniversary + how they celebrated T. First time dancing together U. First pet names/nicknames they give each other V. First time they felt insecure/jealous, and how they worked through it W. First time they realized their relationship is endgame... or isn't X. First major hardship they got through together Y. First time living together Z. First time they said "I love you"

____

For the Author:

🐣 - First piece you ever wrote (share a snippet or description)

🥹 - First time describing strong emotions, and how you've improved since then

🎬 - First fandom(s) you wrote for, and if you still write for them

💀 - First time writing character death, and how you felt about it

🤝 - Favorite "first meeting" scene you've written between two characters

💋 - Favorite "first kiss" scene you've written between two characters

🔥 - First time writing romance/spicy scenes, and how you felt about it

🌍 - First attempt at worldbuilding, or a notable piece of worldbuilding you're proud of

🐉 - First genre you wrote for, and if you still write that genre now

🖌️ - First character you created, or first character you wrote for

🤩 - First big inspiration for writing (an author? a piece of media? a plot idea?)

🕷️ - First time writing something that scared you, and how it went

📝 - Pick a character: first draft of that character + the final version of that character

🏳️‍🌈 - First queer character/story you wrote

🤖 - First nonhuman character you wrote

🪶 - First longform/multi-chapter piece you've written

✒️ - First shortform/oneshot you've written

🪢 - First time writing a crossover or gift fic

🤯 - First story that gained traction/attention, and how it made you feel

📦 - First story that really took you outside your comfort zone

📖 - Piece you'd recommend as a "first piece" for a new reader to enjoy

‼️ - Free space! Tell us about a notable "first" in your writing journey!

#ask game #my ask game #oc asks #character asks #writing asks #fic author asks #ask meme #new ask game #otp asks #ship asks #oc ask game

488 notes · View notes

dakusan · 18 days ago

Note

Sooooo im back. After the “when you refuse to let them feed ask” I’ve come up with a completely opposite scenario

What if Vampire!skz had a completely innocent, inexperienced blood doll? Who had signed up for it after getting fired or having no more means for herself, but wasn’t exactly aware of the other things that come with feeding.

Like she thought all she had to do was offer blood and she’d get all of those perks in return and wasn’t aware of the more intimate things it comes with.

Will that make vampire!skz more careful? Or more feral👀

(Ps, since it seems I’ll be sending way more asks from now on, can I be 🐈‍⬛ anon? )

(Also listened to ur music since Im somewhat of a pianist myself and honestly? fire. 🔥🔥🔥)

🐈‍⬛ anon... oh, you knew what you were doing with this one, didn’t you?

First of all—welcome to the coven, you exquisite little enigma. A pianist, no less? That means your fingers already know how to bleed music... so why not a little lore?

Now— Sink your claws in. Because it’s time to find out what happens when you sign your blood away...without knowing what you’ve truly offered.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🖤 V A M P I R E ! S K Z — w h e n t h e i r b l o o d d o l l i s t o o i n n o c e n t t o k n o w w h a t s h e s i g n e d u p f o r

You signed the contract with trembling fingers. The terms are clear: regular feeding in exchange for protection, housing, and resources beyond anything you've known.

Simple enough. You're broke. Alone. Desperate. And you have good veins. What’s the worst that could happen?

You don't realize.

Not until one of them—let’s say Chan—tilts your chin and asks, voice silk-wrapped steel, “Have you ever been claimed before?”

You blink. “Claimed?”

“Fed on. Touched. Collared. Owned.” Your silence is answer enough. And that’s when it happens.

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 Bang Chan

Oh, this man. He’s patient. He’s composed. But inside? A thunderstorm. You don't even know. You don't even know what you've done to him.

Every breath you take near him smells like untouched magic. Like the kind of offering that hasn’t been ruined by anyone else’s teeth or hands or praise.

So he slows it down. Draws things out. He feeds just from your wrist, just from your palm, just from the delicate veins on the inside of your thigh—never between your breasts, never your neck. Not yet.

And when you flinch at how close you get, he grins. “You’ll get used to it, little doll. I’ll make sure of that.”

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 Lee Know

Cold. Dangerous. Incurably territorial.

He smells you before you enter the room. Knows you're different. Untouched. Unclaimed. Innocent. It makes him feral.

But he doesn’t touch you. Not until you understand. Not until you beg.

Because once he touches you—it’s over. You becomes his.

“You didn’t read the fine print, did you?” he murmurs. “You thought this was just blood? No, sweetheart. It’s about surrender.”

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 Seo Changbin

He’s so soft with you at first. So gentle. Too gentle. It’s because he’s holding back everything.

“You sure you wanna do this?” “Y-yeah. I think so…”

That’s all it takes. One nod. And when he finally feeds from you? It’s devastating. He moans. Loud. Messy. Like your blood short-circuited something inside him. And when he sees the shy panic on your face, he just chuckles and pulls you into his lap.

“Shit, baby. You’re gonna ruin me, aren’t you?”

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 Hwang Hyunjin

He’s obsessed. Worshipful. Dreamy. Possessive.

The moment you walk into his life, he starts painting you. Drawing you from memory. Sketching the slope of your neck like it’s holy. Because it is.

You're pure. Clean. His.

But the first time you realise what “intimacy” means in your arrangement, you try to back away.

“I didn’t know— I thought it was just blood—”

He gently traps you against the wall with one arm. Smiles. “It is. For now.”

And he kisses your wrist. Your throat. Your thigh. “Let me show you what you really signed up for.”

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 Han Jisung

Teasing. Dangerous. Way too smart for your safety.

“You’re new, huh?” You nod. “Let me guess. You thought this was a blood donation gig and now you’re wondering why your thighs are shaking.”

You gasp. He grins. Nuzzles your neck.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll go slow.” Then, a whisper against your skin: “Unless you beg me not to.”

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 Lee Felix

This is the one who melts for you.

The second he realizes you're overwhelmed, he backs off completely. Brings you tea. Wraps you in a blanket. Tells you stories about stars and old kingdoms and how long he’s waited for someone like you.

When he finally feeds? It’s with your hand cupped to his cheek, his voice a trembling murmur.

“Is this okay?”

And later, when you let him bite your throat: “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 Kim Seungmin

Clinical. Controlled. Dangerous.

He’s the one who evaluates you.

Not just your blood, but your psyche. He studies you like an equation. A test subject. A poem. And when you tremble the first time he leans in to bite—he laughs.

“You’re scared. You didn’t know what this was.” He pins your wrist down.

“But now you do.”

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 Yang Jeongin

You thought he’d be sweet. You were wrong.

Jeongin is kind. But he’s still a vampire. And the second he realizes you didn’t understand the contract? He’s fascinated.

“You didn’t know,” he says, almost to himself. “You thought this was just… transactional.”

Then he chuckles. “Oh baby. You have no idea what you’re worth to me.”

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🐈‍⬛ anon, you are a genius.

And THANK YOU for listening to my music!! It means the world to know a fellow musician is enjoying the chaos I create — especially one with such hauntingly good taste 🖤🎹

More ideas? Send them. Feed me. I’m yours.

#ask dakusan #vampire!skz series #vampire!skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader

96 notes · View notes

uhdrienne · 6 months ago

Text

⋆⁺₊❅. 'tis the damn season

🍂 feat: old flame!lee jihoon x actress!reader

🍂 genre: sfw, fluff, angst, exes to lovers, city to town life

🍂 wc: ~8.5k

🍂 summary: an actress yet to make it big in the city, you return to your hometown for christmas for the first time since leaving. seasons have changed, along with life as you know it. jihoon, however, has not, and as you spend the festive season with him this year, you struggle to get past what your life could have been if your decision had been different.

🍂 author's note: merry christmas! nothing like a christmas story to really feel the season <3 there's another note right at the bottom if you'd like to know how the story came about... but meanwhile, enjoy the story and as always, let me know what you think 🎄

T h i s Y e a r

The trees outside the window pass in a blur. Your manager glances at you from the passenger seat, and you notice it from the periphery of your vision.

"You're excited to go home for Christmas, no?"

"I am," You reply, but your voice, try as you might to make it sound enthusiastic in the spirit of the festive holiday, your voice comes out hollow, empty.

Your manager clicks his tongue. "Then try to sound like it. Your parents would not be happy to see how sullen their daughter has become."

"Nothing has happened to me, Ray," You murmur. "I just... going home after so long..."

"That happens to every star I work with," Ray remarks. "Always so jarring for them to go home."

"Other stars, yes," You reply quietly. "I...am not one."

"Not with that attitude, you aren't!" Ray chirps. "You just haven't bloomed yet. Remember the feedback about your role in 'Blacklist'? The papers praised it."

"It was just a cameo, Ray. And it all died down within a week," You remind him, not unkindly, as you are still appreciative that he wanted to compliment you. "I think the agency wouldn't lose out if my contract isn't renewed."

"Nonsense!" Ray declares as the car pulls onto a familiar bridge. Up ahead, you see old thatched roofs, the houses looming larger as you near the village. "I will talk with them, see what auditions we can put you up for. You're talented, just undiscovered."

You chuckle. "Thanks."

"Have a good Christmas break, Y/N," Ray says comfortingly, as the car finally pulls to a stop in front of your front door. "It's the season to be with your family. Don't think about work."

You nod, beginning to clamber out of the car. "You too, Ray. See you in a couple weeks."

As the car finally pulls out of the cobbled path, you gather your belongings about you, and look up at a shout of your name.

"Dad?"

"My dear girl!" Your father enthuses, drawing you into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home, sweetie. Oh, you've lost weight, haven't you?"

"Hm? No, not that much," You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to eating my body weight in Mom's food, though."

"She's more excited to have you home," Your father laughs. "You coming home has been all she can talk about nowadays. I think Mrs. Lee and Jihoon have had enough--"

Your blood freezes at the mention of that name. "What?"

"Mrs. Lee and Jihoon, of course."

"O-Of course." You stammer. Thankfully, your dad doesn't pick up on it as he relieves you of your luggage.

Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon.

A big oak tree, an old swing, two children perched upon it, side by side.

"I'm gonna go to the big city one day!" The young girl whoops.

"For what?" The boy asked.

"To live! Mom says there are tall buildings and cars and big shops. Wouldn't it be so fun?"

"Sounds boring." The boy yawns.

"I'll bring you along!" The girl says obstinately. "I'll show you how fun it can be."

"Fine," The boy replies, swinging his small feet back and forth. "Let's go together when we grow up."

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Come on! I think your mother's going to freak herself out if we don't start going over."

"Coming!"

"I still don't get what you're doing in that grotty town."

"It's my hometown, Rina."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot you came from a forest." Your (kind of) friend's voice drawls on the other end. "I'm off, I have a YSL fitting in like twenty minutes. I'll catch you soon if you decide to leave, yeah?"

"Okay, b-" The line beeping cuts you off. You lie back on your bed, massaging your temples.

Your mother had laugh-cried her way into a hug once you made it through the door, lamenting how hard it was to see her star daughter these days. It was all you could do to bite your tongue and avoid correcting her.

You were not a star. Not at all. While your friends in the industry had piles of scripts waiting for their perusal and selection, you simply accepted whatever you got.

You didn't miss the poorly concealed smiles of mock pity directed at you when everyone shared about their recent works at afterparties. But you knew you always did your best at every role you got, no matter how small they were. Yet... there were moments when you wondered if hard work truly surpassed luck and star quality.

Your muddled mind shifts back to the setting in the kitchen as happy voices and laughter drift upstairs. The look on Jihoon's face when you made eye contact for the first time in almost three years stops you in your tracks.

He looked as relaxed and calm as ever, dressed in a comfy-looking sweater and loose pants. Nursing a cup of coffee with his mother in your kitchen where he'd been countless times, he still resembled the young man you'd left behind.

But gone was the softness in his eyes from when you last saw him. Replacing it was a certain coldness, a tough look you couldn't place. That look had only intensified as he took you in, dressed in a thick fleece coat, black pants, and boot heels to match. He had nodded his head to you in greeting, but it had lacked warmth. Understandable, really.

You had flounced upstairs after the necessary greetings, citing a large load of luggage to unpack as your excuse.

A knock on your door makes you flinch. You open it, and pause at the person standing outside. "...Jihoon."

"Your mom says to come down. She says the food's almost ready and you look too thin."

"Right. Right, I'm coming."

He shrugs and then turns away. His footsteps draw away from your room.

You pinch colour into your cheeks, the way you did when things got too hard, and brace yourself.

Jihoon was staying for dinner.

"So tell us what you acted in!" Your mom says cheerfully as she heaps food onto your plate. "I keep wanting to keep up with your shows, but it's strange, I haven't seen them on the main channel. Are they on streaming platforms or something?"

Your face falls slightly. She was right, half right to be precise. Your shows rarely ever made it onto mainstream television. And if they did, your roles were usually so small you'd just appear onscreen once. With that, it was borderline impossible for you to appear on Netflix.

Your dad rolls his eyes. "It's Christmas, dear. We should give her a break. Why, she came home to see all of us! We know how busy she is."

You shoot a grateful glance to your dad, which he returns with a wink as he raises his glass of wine. "Cheers to that."

As everyone at the table raises their glasses to meet in a sweet clinking sound, and your lips meet the rim to drink, you almost forget the way Jihoon's eyes strayed away from his plate to you when your mother brought your job up.

You're about to wash up when your father enters your room.

"Dad!" You smile, slightly buzzed by the wine and the relaxation you felt, now that you were getting used to being home. "What's up?"

I just thought I'd check in on you before we turn in," He opens his arms, and you gladly step into them. He hums as he pats your head. "Are you getting used to being here? I know it's very different from the city, but.."

"I love it, Pop," You interrupt, understanding his worry. "Nothing can really beat home, right?"

"Right," He murmurs, and he coughs to mask up a suspiciously quick sniff. "Right. Well... sleep early. Tomorrow we'll go on a stroll, and see all the stuff you've missed. We can go visit Jihoon, if you want."

"Jihoon?"

"Yeah! He's got a big truck now, helping out with the family courier business... I heard he wanted to go to the city, but he's a good man, staying back here to help his parents."

You steel yourself to ask, "Did he ever say why he wanted to go to the city?"

"Hmm... he told your mom he wanted to go find an old friend when she asked. But, I suppose that can wait for him, since he hasn't mentioned leaving at all for a while."

You only hum in response.

"He didn't show it much, but his mother says he became much more quiet after you left. You two must have been really close, huh?"

The closest in the world, you wanted to tell him, but your own mouth just couldn't utter the words.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Flowers? For me?"

"Don't make a big fuss,"

"Tulips and baby's breath! Damn, you know the way to my heart. Hold on, I'll find a vase."

"Be quick. I'm taking you somewhere and we can't be late for it."

"Is it a reservation outside the town? Jihoon, I told you that breakfast place is so expensive for absolutely no rea-"

"It's not a reservation. I've already decided, we're going to the 24-hour diner since you said you like their waffles. Somewhere else."

"You're turning red. What's up?"

"The sky. Now hurry up."

He ended up bringing you to see the sunrise. He kissed you on the cheek in the backseat of his father's (much smaller back then) truck and when you got home close to noon, he brought you to the door, stumbled out a shaky and rushed "I like you", and squeezed your hand when you smiled at him.

It was the first of many dates, snuggling on the couch, overdramatic arguments about whether Rose let Jack freeze, and above all, the first moments of a lifetime spent together. You both knew it was a given.

T h i s Y e a r

"Uncle," Jihoon greets your father before his eyes land on you. His mouth tightens.

"Hi," You say meekly, feeling like the seven-year-old girl who would hide behind her parents to do introductions on her behalf. He doesn't respond, simply lets his eyes pass over you and back to your father.

Your dad doesn't seem fazed, as he remarks, "Cleaning the truck, Hoon? It's a good brand you've got there. Impressed whenever I see it."

Jihoon lets out a polite laugh. "Yes, well... I thought I'd invest in a good one since it'll be used for a while."

Your father turns to you. "Have you ever sat in a truck?"

You shake your head no. You never got to do that on set either.

He claps his hands. "Wonderful! Jihoon agreed to bring you out on a spin around the town. I have to pick up some things for your mom for Christmas Eve, you know how she gets. And I didn't think you'd want to spend your holiday grocery shopping with me. I'd feel at ease if Jihoon is here."

Your face tightens. "What do you mean?"

Jihoon clears his throat. "Uh-"

"You two were inseparable," Your father explains cheerfully. "Nothing like a good catch-up! Jihoon, drive safe, yeah?"

And then he's backing down the walkway, waving to you both. And now it's just you and your ex-boyfriend.

Jihoon looks away from you. "Get in, I guess."

And you do. No matter what Jihoon said, it always had a magnetic effect on you. Even if that same voice is now laced with unfamiliarity and slight coldness, you wouldn't say no to him.

Soon enough you're cruising through the small town, Jihoon's eyes trained on the road. As he slows down at a red light, you hesitantly ask, "How is everything with you?"

"Fine," He answers curtly, with no further elaboration.

Well. You can't say you were surprised.

You swallow and lean back into the seat.

"It's a nice truck," You remark lamely, in a desperate hope of starting conversation. "Your dad finally decided to get a new one?"

"It isn't my dad's," Jihoon replies, monotone still. "It's mine."

"Oh."

You should have known. The truck was much larger, its seats bigger than what you remember sitting in countless times as a teenager when his dad would pick you both up from school or to each other's houses.

After a short silence, you ask once more, "Where are we going?"

"To the coast. Your dad said youmissed the place."

"That's nice," You murmur back, emotions already deflated.

Of course, it had to be the coast. He brought you there to see the sunrise, and that was where you'd finally made it official. Clearly, the memories were just as raw for him, as you noticed him physically gritting his teeth as he stopped the truck.

"We don't have to go there-" You begin, but he cuts in stiffly. "I'm bringing you here to kill time while your dad does his stuff. Don't be mistaken."

"Right," You clear your throat awkwardly. "Of course not."

You're wondering how painful it would be to throw yourself out of the truck in embarrassment when your phone rings. It's Ray, so you mumble a quick "sorry" to Jihoon, who doesn't react, and pick up.

"Ray?"

"Hey, Y/N. How's the holidays so far?"

"Good? What's up?"

"Um..."

"Ray," You tease slightly, "You never call just to ask about my holidays. What's going on?"

"So...I just got back the results for your audition for 'Freak Show'."

"How is it?" You ask, breath caught in your throat. "Ray?"

A heavy sigh comes across the line. "I'm sorry, sweets. I know how much you wanted this role."

Your heart drops, and so does your expression.

"I'm trying to at least get you a supporting role since you liked the script so much, I'll let you-"

"Ray." You take a soft breath. Ray's voice halts. "Yeah?"

"Forget it."

"But-"

"Please... just forget it," You almost sound like you're begging. "I can't sit through doing another role no one's even going to remember. I've worked my ass off, Ray, I've gone for thousands of auditions for the past seven years, and not once have I ever gotten a callback for a lead role. I even tried to re-audition, but that damn assistant director spread the word of my so-called 'desperation', my fucking ex-manager did that stupid interview with the TV, and I ended up nowhere!"

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry," You sigh immediately, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry about that. I'm really thankful that you help me, always. Without you, I might have been entirely jobless and the agency would have fired me."

"Oh, hun," Your manager murmurs comfortingly. "Like I said, you're a good actress. Really good. It's just a pity things went south and you met that assistant director who wanted to screw with you. Otherwise, you'd be on the front pages everywhere now."

"I...It's fine. I'll live. Just, Ray..."

"Hm?"

"Don't tell Rina and the rest if they call to ask, okay?"

"Your friends..?"

"Yeah. I... I want to tell them myself." More like no, you never want them to know. You can already see the fake disappointment on Rina's face when she whips her phone out to tell the chat made up of almost twenty actresses.

Ray agrees, and he tells you again not to stress too much before cutting the call. You lean against the cushion of your seat, closing your eyes, and when someone clears his throat you flinch. "Jihoon. Sorry."

He doesn't respond, simply looks at you as if you're a stranger, and you swallow nervously. "My manager called," You explain feebly, not that he even asked.

He nods once. "I heard." His eyes aren't exactly angry, they are still slightly cold, but there's something in them that seems more curious now.

You rub your eyes to snap yourself out, and you muster a smile at him. "So where are we going?"

"To get food," He replies. "That hot dog truck you liked a lot back then is here today, my dad told me."

"Oh, that's okay--"

"Don't eat hot dogs anymore?" He asks wryly, as he puts the truck in reverse and starts parking.

"Of course I do," You reply immediately, folding your arms. "Are you mad? Giving up on snacking?"

A flicker of a smile appears across his typically stoic face before he schools it and reverts to his stern expression. "I wouldn't know. You're stick thin, anyone would think you gave up fast food."

"Well. That just comes with exercise and occasional diets. And I'm not as thin as you say," You murmur. "But no. I wouldn't give up late-night cravings. My manager's one of the nicer ones."

Jihoon snorts slightly as he turns the engine off. "Thank goodness for that, I suppose?"

You shrug, and motion for him to lead the way to the hot dog stall as you climb out of the truck. You follow him down a rough patch of grass and rocks, all while he maintains a healthy distance. The sun warms your skin, and you breathe in the fresh, salty coast air.

"I'm sorry about the role, by the way. You must have worked extra hard for it," Jihoon says suddenly, hands in his pockets as he walks next to you, now back on solid ground, and you turn to face him, your face colouring in... embarrassment? Shame? "You heard my manager?"

"No. Just you, I put the pieces together."

Oh. "Right."

"Is it not...going well?" He motions with his hand vaguely. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"It's fine, Jihoon," You stifle a reluctant laugh. "You can ask."

He stays silent so you continue. "I'm not getting any lead roles, only minor ones even if I put everything I have into it..." You sigh. "My friends don't really mention me, or they make little remarks about my rejections. As an adult, you'd think I shouldn't be bothered, but it just... it gets loud sometimes."

A few moments pass, your sneakers shuffling through the sand, when Jihoon finally says, "They don't seem like friends to me."

You let out a half-chuckle. "That's how showbiz is, I guess."

"No," Jihoon disagrees. "It doesn't matter if it's the industry or not. Friends are here to lift you up, not celebrate your downs. They shouldn't be doing that to you."

He goes silent after and as you get nearer, the food truck coming into view, you mull over what he just told you.

"I guess you’re right," You finally concede after a small pause. "They really shouldn't."

He says nothing more about it, and simply exchanges swift greetings with the stall owner, who seems to know him well. You try to smile weakly at the owner, but with your emotions still running high, you can only hope it doesn't come out as a grimace.

He gets hot dogs for both of you, and you look on gratefully and with a little surprise as he reels off your order word for word: a large hot dog bun with mustard, ketchup, and extra grilled onions. He gets a soda for each of you too, and you almost groan in satisfaction when the food is done. He looks on, looking slightly amused when you dig in.

"Not your usual fine dining concept, sorry." He says as he watches you take a big bite.

"Are you kidding? Way better," You mumble through your mouthful, and he snorts before taking a bite himself.

Just like that, the tension from earlier dissolves into something a little softer, a little gentler.

"So," Jihoon says later, as you're polishing off your soda. "What's been up with you these few years?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't come back to visit your parents. They don't say it, but they get really worried when you don't call."

"Oh."

He raises his eyebrows at you, prompting you to go on.

"Life gets in the way." You explain, resigned. "I want to call home too, but I'm either fighting for roles that I know I'll never get or I'm trying out for more auditions. Plus, the past few years weren't a good time."

"Why?"

"Old manager," You reply, frowning at the sheer memory of the mess you engulfed yourself in two years ago. "Put me on stupid diets for no reason and when this assistant director snitched on me for being 'desperate for roles' when I tried reapplying, he gave a secret interview to the reporters."

Jihoon scowls slightly. "Right. I heard about that. Prick." You laugh out loud. "Yeah. A real prick."

"And then?"

"Not much else. I was trying to clear my name, and by then I wasn't getting that many roles either."

Jihoon doesn't say anything, and you steal a glance at him. He looks... conflicted would be a good way to put it. Like he doesn't know what to say or do.

Before you can think of something to say, anything to dispel the sudden tension, he suddenly gets to his feet. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay... is everything alright?" Was that your imagination, or did he just clench his teeth?

"Fine." Yup, he was definitely gritting his teeth. You're beyond perplexed. But with how angry he already looks, you're not sure you want to aggravate him further, so you get up, toss your cup into the bin, and follow him back to the truck.

The whole journey is spent in silence, and a lot of uncertain glances from your end.

When he drops you off at your home twenty minutes later, he doesn't say anything as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Jihoon?" You ask, turning to face him in the seat.

"Yes?"

His face freezes slightly when you tell him, "Thanks for today. I had lots of fun."

He swallows nervously, evident in the bob of his Adam's apple as he shrugs. "No problem."

"And…um… thanks for still remembering my hot dog order." You say softly, before turning to climb out of the truck.

When you get to your front porch, and then climb the stairs to your room, you look out the window.

He's still there.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Did you just say you're...leaving?"

"I got the audition. It's my big break... if I don't take the chance now, I might not ever get to. It's my dream, you know that."

"What else?"

"Huh?"

"Your dreams this, your big break that. Don't you have anything else to say?"

"...What can I say?"

"What do you mean, what can you say? What about us?"

T h i s Y e a r

The next morning arrives in the form of your mother standing over your bed. “Hey, darl, wake up!”

“Mhmm?” You mumble from under your covers and you hear her chuckle before she peels your blanket back.

“Jihoon’s mom is coming over to help with Christmas Eve dinner,” she explains. “But I totally forgot about the school donation.”

“School donation…?” What is she talking about?

“Oh! Right. So we donate a bunch of food every year to your old school. You remember it, right? Near the Methodist church?”

“Yeah,” You yawn, stretching up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“They pass it to orphanages for children who don’t have Christmas dinner this season. I’ve had it prepared since this morning, but with Jihoon’s mom and the dinner, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop by the school,” She looks regretful. “Would you mind helping with that, dear?”

“Sure,” You reply, cracking your neck. “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, mom.”

“Thanks, hun,” Your mom says, looking relieved. “It’s quite a lot. We had lots to give this year. Mrs Lee said she’d send Jihoon to help you.”

“Huh?”

“I wouldn’t send you into the cold holding tons of heavy bags!” Your mom fusses. “Wash up and eat before you go — your dad got the most amazing bread yesterday.”

After she leaves, you sit there, wide awake.

Jihoon is coming.

That fact alone has you hurrying to tidy yourself for god knows what, even applying a bit of mascara and lip gloss to salvage your face.

Your phone pings as you start tidying your table, and you look at Ray's name popping on the screen.

"Remember your audition and screen test with the director of 'Who Knows Why'?" The text reads. "He's making the final decision for the female lead of his new holiday film. This guy has high standards and his films are very popular, but he likes picking new faces over the same old stars. A few of your friends are in the choices too, but...I just have a feeling this could be it. I'll let you know again. Happy holidays!"

You sigh. Who Knows Why made headlines for weeks when it hit the cinemas, critics and film connoisseurs alike singing its praises. Unless a miracle selected you while you were sleeping, you very much doubted you would make it past.

By the time you get downstairs and have a few pieces of the toasted bread — which is amazing, all warm and toasty and fresh — the doorbell rings, and your mom rushes to get the door.

“Mrs Lee!” She exclaims, hurriedly ushering the other lady into the house. “Thanks for coming by today.”

As the two exchange pleasantries, Jihoon steps into the house, removing his boots and smiling slightly when your mother coos over him too.

He merely nods in acknowledgement when he sees you. The contrast makes your stomach clench slightly.

“Ah, Jihoon,” His mother says. “Make sure to help Y/N with the bags of food, yeah?”

He simply nods again, a soft “okay” escaping his mouth, before he approaches you.

“Let’s get going,” He says conversationally.

“Okay,” You reply nervously. He raises his eyebrows as he walks to the heaping table.

He picks out most of them. Especially the biggest and bulkiest ones.

It’s fifteen minutes later when you’re walking down the path when he breaks the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” You ask. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing. I thought with the role thing… never mind.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, you’d barely thought of it since the hot dog outing. “Uh… I mean, what’s past is past, right?”

“I suppose.” He replies, non-committal.

And there it goes again. The choking, awkward silence that just doesn’t seem to dissipate no matter what either of you.

There’s a bit of fuss when you reach the school, what with all the grunt work passing over the food and making sure the right people get the right things, and that provides a little relief, at least for an hour or so.

After it’s all over, you find yourself at the school gates where you first met Jihoon, with the very same man, now twenty years on.

“It hasn’t changed much,” You observe.

Jihoon shrugs. “I guess. It’s like very little time passed.”

That roadblock comes back.

You swallow. “Um, Jihoon.”

He makes a humming sound in response.

“Are we…okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” You admit, pulling at your sweater. “You seemed angry when we were out the other day and…”

“I’m not mad.”

“Right.”

You're not convinced.

“I’m really not.” He insists, although you haven’t even said anything to contradict him.

“I know. You said so.”

“Well, you sure don’t sound like you believe me.” He says, rather scathingly.

You shoot him a quizzical look. It was a choice between acting dumb or admitting that after all this time, he could still read you like a book.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” He laughs bitterly. “You never do, anyway.” He turns away as he says this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, slightly affronted.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” He says in a sudden show of annoyance. “Not even one call all these years, and when you finally show up back here, I find out how shit your so-called dream life has been. But I don’t know! It could just be me.”

“Jihoon-”

“And I’m just thinking, you gave up all of this?” He waves his arm outward. “You gave up everything back here… for what you have now? Was it even worth it in the end?”

“I thought that was what I wanted.” You try to answer, but it comes out pathetically. He was spot-on.

You left your family, your home, the love of your life… for something that ended up being unworthy in the slightest.

And you were now reaping the consequences.

“I…” Jihoon rubs his face, his anger now cooled into something like resignation. “You made your choice. I get that. I’m trying to understand. I just… I don’t know why you thought the life you have now, with fake friends and unnecessary drama, was better than peace.”

"It wasn't that I wanted to go through all of that... I --"

He stares at you, waiting for you to go on. But it's as if someone has sealed your mouth shut, as nothing escapes it.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"You won't even bother trying? Will you fight for us?"

"How can I? The agent made it clear... once I step out, dating is out of the question.."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave for some big city, and I'll just be stuck here, waiting for someone who's already made her choice?"

"Jihoon, I... fuck, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"All of it. I let you down."

Never had you seen your boyfriend regard you with as much disappointment as he did now.

"You did, Y/N. You really did. God, I thought--I thought we mattered more than those billboards."

"Jihoon-"

"But there's no point, right? You already made your decision. You don't intend to look back at all, do you?"

"I-"

Jihoon sighed, and bent his head in resignation, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally raised his head. "Then why are you still here?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I won't hold you back. Go on."

Silence, the raging kind that had never once blossomed between you both, took over.

After what seemed like an eternity, your mouth opened.

"We... we leave on the 17th."

He doesn't look up from his lap as you exit his room, down the creaking stairs of his family home for the last time, and you come face to face with his mom.

"Chase your dreams, dear," She'd said, clasping your hands, although you thought you saw unshed tears in her eyes as your own streaked down your face. "Come home and visit us sometime. Jihoon will be okay."

You did leave on the 17th. Jihoon turned up with his parents, and as his mom kissed you on the forehead and gave you her blessings, his gaze stayed on you, but he didn't step forward to say goodbye.

He kept looking on as you climbed into the car, and in the rearview mirror as it pulled away, you thought you saw him start to raise his hand in a momentary wave.

But then he was far gone behind you, and now you only had the road ahead for company.

T h i s Y e a r

The truck ride back is silent again. Jihoon doesn't even look in your direction, except to check his blind spots and adjacent lanes. Your mind is equally messed up, thinking about everything he said to you.

Was he right? Had you lost your way, and bargained everything you could have lived with, in exchange for friends who couldn't care less about you, and a career akin to a peakless, uphill slope?

Finally, when the silence becomes a thick, choking fog, you finally speak up. "Jihoon?"

He glances to you for a fraction of a second. "Yes?"

"If..." You struggle to find the words. "If... I hadn't made that choice..."

His head turns to you fully, his gaze now sharp. "What?"

You have to plan out what you want to say, word for word, before you go on. "If I chose to stay back then... would we have lasted? Would we have..."

Jihoon turns back to the road. "Would we have stayed together? Do you want my honest answer?"

You nod imperceptibly. "More than anything."

"We would," He says quietly, but with no hesitation as he makes a left. "I would have told you that we should set up a joint account and plan for a home together in maybe three years. I would've told you that we could go on weekly grocery runs and start thinking about moving in together. And I probably would have told you that I love you."

You freeze.

"It sounds unnecessary and stupid, but I don't want you to burden yourself with that, now," He says, sitting back and looking straight ahead. "I know you don't belong here, or to me, anymore. That's life, and we all move on, one way or another. Plus it's Christmas, and you're here now, so.... you should enjoy it before you leave."

And that's that. Just a reminder for you to enjoy yourself before you inevitably have to go. None of you need to speak to know that the conversation is over.

The drive resumes in silence.

You can't sleep. You've tossed and turned a million times, head pounding with exhaustion, but something's just stopping your eyes from shutting. Unfortunately, you know exactly why.

Jihoon's there in your mind. Sometimes the calm, steady person he's always been, sometimes a roaring, dark figure glaring at you the way he did when you said you were leaving.

Around two in the morning, you finally sit up. You have to go to Jihoon. You don't know what you're going to say, but if you don't find him, he will never stop haunting you.

You slip on a warm sweater and shoes, and gently close the front door behind you. The village is truly ready for the festivities, all twinkling golden lights and lightly falling snow. But none of that matters as you pad through the white fluff towards Jihoon's home.

When he opens the door, he's dishevelled, but doesn't show signs of having just woken up. "Uh... it's two a.m...?"

"I know it is," You say apologetically. "I'm sorry. I, uh... I couldn't sleep."

He raises his eyebrows. "Ah. I see."

You're beginning to regret this. Maybe you should've thought this through. "Look, it's okay, I'm really sorry for bothering you--"

"Guess that makes two of us," He says conversationally, as if it isn't the dead of night. "Come in. It's cold."

You wait for him to walk in before following him into the house. Try as you might, you just can't shake the feeling of nostalgia that rushes through you as you walk around the house you've visited a million times.

You know that his favourite grey mug is on the cabinet shelf above the sink. The earl grey cookies he can't live without is on the counter. The stairs still creak a little when you step on the floorboards nearby. You know him and everything that belongs to him. You know it all.

You take a seat at his table. "Will your parents be upset that I came at this hour?"

He eyes you wryly. "You know silly questions get silly answers."

You know your question is nearly pointless. You've left late, slept over, even gotten drunk in this house and his parents still doted on you nevertheless.

You shrug. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

He hums as he reaches for a hot cocoa mix. "Then my answer is no. Nobody's upset."

Five minutes later, he places a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of you and sits down.

"So, bad dreams?"

"Huh?"

"You said you couldn't sleep. Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. Not really bad. Just... disturbing."

He raises his eyebrows. "I think that's the same thing."

"Dreams are like... like movies." You try to explain, a smile forming on your face. "Bad dreams are horrors and thrillers. Disturbing dreams are more like... like they could be any genre, but some parts and some scenes affect you more."

"Right," He says. "So Titanic was disturbing, then?"

"Very!" You blurt before you can stop yourself. "Because it still confuses me to this day, how on earth didn't Jack fit on the door?"

He breathes out a chuckle, leaning back on his chair. "It confuses me how you compare dreams to movies. They're in two complete worlds altogether."

"Admit it. It's a good analogy."

"It is," He admits. "I didn't think of that before."

You look at him, and you wonder how you can continue the conversation from here. He sits there for a few more minutes and stands up. "I'll go set up a room for you. It's snowing pretty badly, and you'll be soaked through if you walk back. I'd drive you, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to see anything."

He starts to leave the room, and you grab his arm. "Jihoon."

He looks down at your physical contact point. "Yes?"

"Earlier, when you said...when you said that movies and dreams are in two different worlds."

He looks at you. Staring unblinkingly, eyes never avoiding yours. He seems just as about to ready to confront this truth as you are.

Your dream was the movie screen, and his dream was you. Two completely, otherworldly different ones, but dreams and wishes nonetheless. Maybe now that you were once again back where you started, they could finally align.

"You weren't just talking about actual dreams, were you?"

Jihoon stiffens and steps back. "We're not doing this again."

"No, wait --" You say, closing your eyes to gather your thoughts. "I'm not going to make you tell me anything. I just want to know if you meant something else."

Jihoon swore he would give himself a pat on his back as he leaned down to look you square in the eye. "And if I said I did?"

You swallow and look at him. Your heart is pounding, and all logical thinking has been long thrown out of the window. "I'd thank the heavens for bringing me home."

His mouth finds yours and you pull him down to meet you more. It's not a cold war anymore. It's no longer a battle to see who can withstand the silence better.

And there is no more silence, you realise, because Jihoon is sniffling and your cheeks are stained with two warm droplets. "Jihoon?"

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, making no effort to withdraw. "I couldn't help it. I...I missed you. Not just this," He squeezes your hand which has somehow intertwined with his, and you squeeze back with the little strength you can muster. "Just...you. Drinking hot chocolate in my kitchen in the middle of the night, being within two streets' distance of me... eating hot dogs in my truck and sending food when Christmas comes."

You blink back tears. "I'm sorry for missing out all these years."

"Don't be sorry," He replies, imperceptibly softly, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "Just be with me."

You spend the night. And the night after, and the one after that.

The next three days pass like a fever dream. You go skating at the outdoor rink with Jihoon, laugh at how he wobbles his way to you like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time, drink hot peppermint tea at a market stall after dinner, and let Jihoon tuck you into his coat on the walk home.

You didn't want this to end. No matter what. Ray hadn't yet gotten back to you on the audition results, and you decided to take it as a no and move on, just as you always did.

Of course, life always found a way to rear back and bite you hard, as your phone rings. With gloved hands, you pull it out of your coat pocket to see Ray's name again.

"Ray!" You chuckle, a little heady and happy from the day's events.

"So someone's having a good Christmas," Ray teases. "Well, my friend, it's going to get a lot better."

"What?" You ask, your boots crunching to a stop. Next to you, Jihoon also stops walking, his eyes wholly on you in concentration.

"The director of 'Who Knows Why'," Ray says, poorly concealed excitement in his voice. "He called me today, said he wants you to take the role! Your friends didn't get it even though they're so famous, and guess what? You did."

"Ray." You say, firmly. "Repeat that."

"You. Made. It. Out of over 100 actresses. I'm not joking!"

You freeze, look up and lock eyes with Jihoon, who raises his eyebrows in question.

"Oh, my god," You say, and it all comes out in a rush. "You're...you're serious."

"As a heart attack." Ray promises. "So, when can I come pick you up? Day after Christmas?"

"Ah." You hesitate. The filming would involve you....leaving. And if you were to stay and prepare for press tours, interviews, meet-and-greets... when were you returning?

"Can I call you back? I'll check..."

"Sure, hon," Ray replies cheerfully. "Go tell your folks the good news! They're gonna be thrilled."

You laugh weakly and then hang up. Then you turn to your lover (is he?).

"So, what was that about?" He asks, resuming the walk.

"I..."

At his concerned look, you finally sigh. "I got a lead role. In the film of a really popular director."

"That's amazing....oh." His face falls as he comes to the conclusion you fear. "Does that mean...you have to leave, don't you?"

You take a soft breath, shuffling your feet back and forth nervously. "I suppose so. I...I have to."

And to make matters worse, your phone pings with a text, your face souring as you read her message. Then, Jihoon watches as you put your phone back in your coat without another word.

"Who is that?" He demands. He knows he sounds like a little child, but he doesn't stop himself. He doesn't like the bitter expression on your face and that's all he knows.

"A friend." You reply.

"Real friend or...?"

You sigh and fish your phone out and pass it to him. He reads the simple "Fuck you" message from Rina, and undiluted anger crosses his face. "What the-"

You shrug. "She was probably one of the actresses hoping to be selected. Not much I can hide from you now."

He chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, we're not hiding the fact that you have to leave in maybe three days. Back to people like this-" He gestures to your phone. "- and who knows what else."

"I'll try to come back often," You say, although it doesn't seem convincing in the slightest. Jihoon doesn't buy a word of it either, judging by his expression.

"Really?" He says. "You haven't even been able to find time to come home for years now. I know you've gotten your big break and I'm happy for you, but... I don't know what to do if you leave for years on end again."

"I'll try to shuttle back and forth," You insist. "I have to."

"Well," Jihoon says, still looking at you doubtfully. "Don't make it an obligation."

"No, let's talk about it," You insist. "I just...I've never gotten a lead role before. It's not just... it's not just a role I can give up right away."

"Well, then choose. Tell me what you want." He replies, disappointment crossing his face.

"I...I haven't decided yet." You say lamely. "I need...I need a little more time to think."

He simply continues looking at you, before turning away and pacing back and forth. All you can do is watch him helplessly. "I just don't want to think about when this...will be over." Fling? Relationship?

It's as if he already knows what you're thinking about as he smiles sadly. "See, you don't even know what label to put on us."

"I just don't like when it has to be one over the other." You say, hugging yourself and staring at your shoes. "I've missed you. You know I love you and I want to continue seeing you, but I can't just give up on what I've wanted for so long."

But Jihoon is already shaking his head and starting to walk. "It doesn't have to be one way or another. Because I think you've already made your decision. I'm taking you home."

And it was happening all over again. Days had passed with no interaction with him, and even on Christmas Day itself, he was nowhere to be found.

Too fast, the evening when Ray came to pick you up loomed near. Your father helped you pack, but behind the reminders to bring your makeup bag and home slippers was a tinge of sadness. Your old folks didn't even know when they'd next see you.

When Ray comes out of the car to pick you up, out steps another lady with him, who nods to you in greeting.

"This is Rachel, the producer for the movie," Ray explains. "Since it’s gonna be a holiday romance-comedy, she wanted to visit your town to see what it looked like in Christmas."

You smile, and nod eagerly. "It's beautiful. You won't regret it."

Rachel smiles back, then speaks to Ray. "You guys stay here. I'll go take a quick walk and be right back."

As she leaves, you look at Ray. "Can we talk?"

Ray raises an eyebrow. "What about?"

"I... was wondering." You say. "I have a bit of a predicament at home. I'd like to stay longer. Could you maybe...push for the filming to be delayed?"

Ray looks surprised. "You want to wait?"

"More than anything."

A smirk starts blooming on Ray's face. "For a guy?"

At your delay, he slaps your shoulders. "Great! So, is the lucky guy totally alright with your job? That's a good man right there."

"Actually..."

You sprint towards Jihoon's house. Your attention is fixed on trying not to fall flat into the snow and to get to him as quickly as possible. Other townspeople are gawking, probably wondering why someone is in such a hurry, practically flying down the street.

At his door, you start knocking hard. His mom opens the door, and to your dismay, she explains that Jihoon hasn't been home since the morning.

"Maybe he's at the coast," She suggests, and you have never set off so fast before.

You implore Ray to drive you, and despite his reservations, a call from Rachel confirms that he has enough time to bring you there in his car for you to find Jihoon.

“So I’m now a party who can help you find the love of your life,” He teases you. “What do you owe me if this works out?"

"I'll make sure I land another film after this."

"You're on."

Ray barely puts the brakes on before you're opening the door. "I'll see you in a bit!"

"Should I prepare tissues?" He calls back. You pray not as you frantically scan your surroundings for a familiar, dark-haired man.

And like the heavens are answering you, you find him. Sat upon the roof of his truck, staring out at the coast at the setting sun.

"Jihoon?" You call as you get nearer to him. The man freezes, then turns slowly to face you. "I thought you were heading back. Why are you here?"

"To talk," You say softly, trying to catch your breath. "I... I think we left some things unsaid."

"No," He disagrees, crossing his legs over to face you while still sitting. "I owe you an apology."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have tried to make you choose me over your dreams. I know how hard you've been working, and you're finally getting to your peak... I should have supported you. I'm sorry. It was selfish of me."

"No," You insist, waving your hands. "I made that mistake first. Years ago, when I decided to leave, I didn't put you in front of my thoughts. I....I thought we'd be okay."

Jihoon shrugs and gives you a sad smile. "I'll always root for you. So... no hard feelings. Go ahead and shine. I promise we're okay. I'll never have bad feelings for you no matter what happens."

You shake your head. "That-"

"Y/N!" You hear Ray calling for you. Seriously? At this moment?

"What?" You hiss furiously.

"Check your phone!" You hear his hushed response.

"Later!"

"No! Now!"

You sigh and pull it out at his insistent glare, and when you look down at the message, your eyes light up. You shoot him a quizzical glance. Are you serious?

At his frantic nod, you turn back to Jihoon.

"You should go," Jihoon repeats. "They must be waiting for you."

"They are," You nod. He nods back, eyes not leaving yours.

"See you in a bit."

He cocks his head in confusion.

"Haven't you heard?" You smile a bit at his nonplussed expression.

"The filming location shifted."

"What?"

"I'll be here, apparently. For the next half a year, or so. The producer decided this place must be too good to pass up."

His jaw drops, and he slides off the truck, as if his surprise disabled his sense of balance. “You’ll be… here?”

“For a while,” You shrug nonchalantly, as if your heart isn’t beating fast and hard. “So, if… if you still want to talk, and maybe spend spring together… I’m down.”

He drops himself off the vehicle and his boots hit the ground with a crunch. “Say that again.”

You smile and take a few steps towards him. “I’m here for spring, Jihoon. And the seasons after that…we’ll figure it out one at a time. How does that sound?”

He lets out a laugh then, choked up but ecstatic. He makes sure, steady steps towards you, arms open in welcome and love, and as you step into his warmth, you let out a relieved, happy sigh and look up at him.

“Merry Christmas, Jihoon.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

N e x t Y e a r

"I forgot how cold it can get every time," Jihoon hisses as another gust of wind hits.

"It's worse in town," You tease. "I barely feel anything now."

"Yes, yes, you with your big girl city habits," He shivers. "I'll pick that bone with you once we get home, I swear."

"I'm looking forward to it." You chuckle, and he squeezes you tight. As resigned as he is to the eccentric habits you picked up in the city, he's just happy you're here to spend this Christmas with him. And the one next year, and the one after that.

Home. Our home. You were a part of his home, and him yours.

Yes, you thought, even as you leaned against him and felt him wrap his coat around you despite knowing you weren't cold at all. As long as you were with him, you were home.

a u t h o r ' s n o t e:

merry christmas eve! i hope you enjoyed this story every bit as much as i enjoyed writing it 🎄 i started thinking about this close to october (because i missed my eras tour experience so much 😭) and wondered if anyone would like a crossover between seventeen and tswift!! so here goes, in time for christmas and your spotify wrapped, 'tis the damn season 💌

🎼 refer below for the fic playlist (with lots of svt, taylor swift, and sweet, romantic christmas tracks)

taglist: @jeonghnie

f i c p l a y l i s t :

'tis the damn season -- taylor swift

mirrorball -- taylor swift

lover - taylor swift

paper rings - taylor swift

daylight - taylor swift

new year's day - taylor swift

ours - taylor swift

i love you, i''m sorry - gracie abrams

risk - gracie abrams

all my love - seventeen

falling for you - seventeen

headliner - seventeen

lie again - seventeen

second life - seventeen

to you - seventeen

my santa claus - jessie james decker

glow - brett eldredge

all i want for christmas is you - michael buble

kiss you this christmas - why don't we

take me home for christmas - dan + shay

#svt fic #k-labels #svthub #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #seventeen x reader #woozi #woozi x reader #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #svt fanfic #svt fics #seventeen fanfic #svt x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff

185 notes · View notes

maythearo · 2 years ago

Text

" Welcome back to Night Raven College's 'Ghostly Gossip'! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" You see, all my notes have to say about him is 'Mr braincell Spade that electrified the whole pool last swimming class'- and I'm almost sure it wasn't me who wrote it. Although I still remember this event so clearly... what a weird day. "

Navigation:

R. Rosehearts - T. Clover - C. Diamond - A. Trappola - D. Spade - L. Kingscholar - R. Bucchi - J. Howl - A. Ashengrotto - J. Leech - F. Leech - K. Al Asim - J. Viper - V. Schoenheit - R. Hunt - E. Felmier - I. Shroud - O. Shroud - M. Draconia - L. Vanrouge - S. Zigvolt - Silver

[ design notes ]

Alright so that took a bit longer bcs I wanted Ace to be ready as well, just so I could link his and Deuce's designs in a few aspects, and I'll talk about this in more detail later, for sir Ass Trampoline's future entry.

I know in that picture I said there was way too much free space on reference pics, but I'm just realizing I should have included one of Frankie bcs obviously they were a huge inspiration for Deuce's design as well 😭 both from G1 and G3. I initially chose the Frankenstein monster for him just for the fact that he's good with machines n stuff in canon, but later I realized the og story of Frankenstein had a lot to do with conflict between the creator and the creation, that if I squint it I can see the similarities between that and Deuce's character arc to change + his rocky relationship to his family, idk, can't really oversimplify the book's story but. I thought the themes could be very loosely connected 🧍 (?)

I should also add that the highlights on his hair match his mom's, that's cute. ALSO also his rings designs/placements don't really matter, I think he'd just wear whatever rings he finds without much preference.

For his AU personality and traits, well, he's just Deuce. Straightforward, diligent, at times naive, and clumsy Deuce. Story and background pretty much remains the same too, why not!

Sorry I didn't have much to say here, most of the notes I work on I write while in class or in the car (not the best places for concentration imo), bcs I'm not having much free time to stay still lately 😭 I'm hoping I didn't leave much of my hcs behind though!

#.the ghostly gossip #deuce spade #twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanart #monster high #my art #twst au #monster high fanart #heartslabyul #Ass Trampoline soon i think #(collapses on the floor)

2K notes · View notes

gojokive · 1 year ago

Text

❥ Beg For It, Petal.

» RATING › 18+ [M I N O R S D O N O T I N T E R A C T] » GENRE(S) › smut/fluff » PAIRING(S) › geto suguru x female!reader x gojo satoru » WORD(S) › 2.8k+ » SYNOPSIS › You simply want to make breakfast for your boyfriend's but they have something else in mind. » SMUT WARNING(S) › oral (female receiving), fingering, squirting, gojo & geto kissing, a smidge of dirty talking, allude to sub!geto, allude to anal, praise kink, begging, nicknames (petal, peach, love, pretty girl, honey, & gorgeous), loads of cuddling between the three of you, vacation vibes only! (half-ass edited so beware lol) » POST DATE › 03/21/2024

thank you for reading! & remember: you nice, keep going.❤️ comment/reblogs(s) and like(s) are totally welcomed! › read more work here: masterlist ‹

It’s merely morning when the sun begins to rise, casting a surreal glow into the room. Your body and mind decide to stir as you wake from your slumber. The black curtains hardly catch the glare that hits your face when you try to turn over. It’s then that you realize you’re laid snug on top of Satoru. You can feel his even breath against your neck as he smushes his face against your chest. His grip on your waist is tight and it stops you from being able to turn like you want to.

“Stop.” Satoru groans when you shift your body, leaving Suguru to grab you from his arms (or more importantly, before you can get up to leave). His hold is much firmer than Satoru’, his face is buried in your neck and you can feel him press soft kisses against it.

“Pretty girl,” Suguru chuckles the moment you moan. “Where are you trying to go, honey?” His eyes remain closed, his voice is soft but raspy and for a second, you melt into his embrace as he smothers you closer to his chest. One of the things you love to do is simply listen to this beautiful man talk. His voice is so calming and reassuring that you often fall into this state of bliss. You appreciate the feelings both he and Satoru give you while you're tucked into their arms. A sense of safety and security that everything will be alright. You close your eyes and savor the moment, knowing this feels like home.

“You’re staring, baby.” He wolfishly grins, bringing his hand up to caress your bottom lip. “It’s still early… It's only eight and you’re already trying to leave us.” Glancing over at the clock on the dresser, you realize he's right. It's eight forty-three and honestly, you can use a little more sleep. “Sleep.”

“I want to get up though,” You whine as he only chuckles about how cute you are. You want to get up, take a shower, maybe even get breakfast started for them but you can't do that since Suguru won't let you go. “And It’s not that early, ‘Gu. I could be cooking breakfast right now. I’m hungry.” As if on cue your stomach growls, alerting him of the basic need that hasn't been met. “Suguru…”

“But I’d rather you stay here.” He peeks through his left eye to get a good look at you. The ray of sunlight shining through the balcony door just right to radiate not only the room but you too. An angel in disguise. He can't help but reach up to brush his thumb against the side of your cheek as you lean into his warmth. You can't lie, you love being sandwiched between both of them and right now is no different. “That’s why we hired people for this so you wouldn’t have to move a muscle, honey.”

“But I wanna do it…” You frown, “I-It’s not t-the same-”

“Oh, but It is.” You don't see the smirk present on his face the moment he feels you bury your face in the crook of his neck to attempt to hide. “It's okay to relax. It's your vacation as much as it's ours, Petal. Just sleep.” He says, settling back with you in tow and you lose your breath. You can’t believe how beautiful this man is. He laughs, leaning back to rest his head against the pillows again. You snuggle into his chest, tracing circles on his collarbone.

As time goes on, Suguru’s out like a light again, and you decide to maneuver yourself back between them to get comfortable. Both men snore, one louder than the other. You feel Satoru cuddle up into your back as his hand finds your stomach. He rubs against it as both play tug-a-war with your body to see who gets more to cuddle with.

The warmth feels good. And the butterflies in your stomach make you feel alive as you’re laid up and fiddling with Satoru’s fingers.

It's times like this you cherish. The moments where Suguru isn’t in one of his moods and Satoru isn’t off doing god knows what. And neither of them has to leave for days on end. It makes you wish you could stay like this forever and keep them chained to the bed but sadly, you can’t. At least not in the way you want to. Suguru might like it. Satoru? Not so much. Then again, who truly knows? As much sex as you and Satoru have, you haven’t tried that yet.

Which is surprising in itself and well, you make a mental note to visit a sex shop down the street from your apartment complex one of these days.

Glancing at the clock again, it's nine-ten and you can't justify laying in bed much longer than you have. You want to see the scenery and all that so you decide it's time to get up and shower. You can even feel the grime of last night's activities start to feel crusty and gross and you can't take it anymore. You run a couple of scenarios through your mind or rather, solutions so you can get up and move freely without waking your boys.

Solution one. Try with all your might to wiggle your way out of their grasp. In which, you do but that plan ends in utter failure when Suguru groans for you not to move again. He turns over to throw his arm over your waist to keep you still. And with Satoru's hand awkwardly sprawled on your ass, they've got you locked in place again.

Failure.

Solution two. Try to put a pillow in your place but, of course, that was also a failure because they can tell the difference. Hell, they won't even allow you to get up long enough to do the switch.

You're exasperated as you roll over to stare at the ceiling, groaning to no one but yourself. You glance to either side of you. They look adorable with Suguru’s face buried in your chest now and Satoru’s face mushed against the pillows, it makes his lips pucker. You just want to kiss both of them but right now is not the time.

Solution three. Try ripping yourself from their grasp. You try for about five minutes until you realize that's futile.

“Really?” It only serves to annoy you when you hear Satoru chuckle, no doubt listening to you struggle. And if he’s awake then you know Suguru is too even if he doesn’t utter a word. You just want to get up! Your stomach has been growling for a hot minute and you're hungry and gross and ugh!

“Just stay with us, Petal.” How can you say no to that? You don't know but you fix your mouth and tell them to get up when Satoru leans in close. His lips barely touch the skin of your neck and you can feel his gust of breath on your neck that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I was going to make us breakfast though…” You gasp the moment he nibbles against your ear, his warm hand resting against your thigh. So close to where you would like it to be but not right now. You try your best to sit up again but it’s no use. With them holding you the way that they are, you’re shit out of luck. “Well, can I at least take a shower?”

“Mm-mmh,” Suguru mumbles while kissing your shoulder. “Later...”

You roll your eyes at your boyfriend as a sigh falls from your lips. For both of them to be grown men, they’re acting like straight children right now but giving up is the last thing you want to do. Hunger overtakes everything. So you wait, somewhat impatiently for what seems like hours. You knew they were going to fall asleep again soon.

It was just a matter of time.

You end up wasting time on your phone, playing some mobile game Satoru told you to download until you hear both men snoring a little louder than before.

With a shift of their bodies, you're finally able to slip out of their arms to get to the bathroom. You made it your mission to take a quick shower, trying to figure out what you want for breakfast. You don't want to linger in case they wake from their slumber again and try to tug you back into bed. Or you know, in case they decided to hop in the shower with you because breakfast will never be made then.

“Aww,” You coo, seeing them closer with Satoru’s face buried in Suguru’s neck while his leg is hiked onto his front. The blanket covers nothing but their lower half. his arm loosely draped over his tiny waist. Suguru’s waist was a gift from the heavens, you loved it. Especially whenever he’d wrap your legs around it.

You quickly shake those thoughts before they even enter your mind, instead, you snap a picture to tease them later.

Waltzing over to the drawer, you pull out one of their band shirts, a random one they let you have (since they had so many), and settle for some black panties. Being comfortable was the main thing.

Stepping out, you close the door quietly and start toward the kitchen. Searching through the fridge to find something to make something simple came to mind, a little bit of both of their favorites.

You're so into what you are cooking, that you don’t hear the door to the suite bedroom open. You also don’t hear either man making their way to the kitchen.

“Baby?” Satoru whines, wrapping his arms around your waist. You’re startled, mind drawing blanks as you almost drop the hot skillet.

“J-Jesus,” You giggle, turning to face him to push him away, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Satoru smiles. He peppers kisses down your neck as his hands caress your inner thighs and you can feel the start of his bulge poking into your ass. Suguru stands from the island and pulls you to stand in front of him while Satoru sandwiches you from behind.

“I’m trying to cook,” You whine, feeling Satoru’s hand dip into boy shorts as he rubs his finger over your slit. You throw your head back with a soft moan. Suguru steps away long enough to turn off the stove so the food doesn’t burn, but he steps forward to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist to sit you on the counter. Neither one says a word, Satoru attacking your neck to hear you groan as Suguru kisses your lips, your body melting into their touches, “I just wanna finish cooking...”

“Maybe we just want you for breakfast,” Satoru growls, nipping at your earlobe before yanking your underwear down and off your body.

“You can finish after we’re done,“ Suguru teases, “You’re already so wet for us, Petal.”

“Fuck yeah, she is,” Satoru smirks, tilting his head so he could get a good look at you. You’re blushing softly, the tint of red turning you into a tomato. “Was it from me touching you or is it the thought of what we’re going to do to you.”

“What’s turning you on, baby?”

“‘Toru…” You don’t want to say it out loud, resulting in you simply nodding your head. Of course, they’re not falling for it. Suguru grips your chin a little harshly but you can’t help but nibble on your bottom lip. Your cunt clenching around absolutely nothing at the blatant show of dominance. Satoru knows that look on your face, you’re slowly falling into that headspace of yours but Satoru doesn’t want you to completely lose yourself.

At least, not yet.

“Words baby,” Suguru mutters, kissing the corner of your mouth once you take a deep breath to try and ground yourself.

‘We need to hear you, Peach.”

“Yeah! Yes! Please…” You’re breathless as you throw your arms around Suguru who gets a grip on your thighs to be able to pick up and move you to the kitchen island. You’re going to need more room for the orgasm he’s about to give you. Your hips buck the moment he starts to slowly ease his middle finger inside you.

“So tight.” Suguru places kisses on your trembling thighs, and all the while, Satoru hops onto the island to settle behind you. He’s glad he sent the chef and maid away for a couple more hours. Let’s be real though, they would have gladly given them a show too. He didn’t care but he knows you do.

“You’re so wet, Peach.”

“She’s sucking my fingers right in.”

Satoru chuckles, bringing his finger to press into your clit before rubbing it while Suguru's fingers continued to pump in and out of your cunt. The sounds cause both men to grow hornier as they watch your orgasm build, you're falling back against Satoru’s chest as he moves to the area above your clit. Suguru takes the opportunity to roll his tongue over your clit before flicking it a couple of times.

“That’s it, love.” Satoru kisses his way down your neck as your mouth falls open and your breathing continues to pick up. You’re right there if the way you try to squeeze your thighs around his hand and Suguru’s head says anything. It’s so hot. Fuck, you’re fucking gorgeous. “Let Sugu take care of you. Feels good doesn’t it?”

You moan in response, reaching for Satoru to bring him closer for a heated kiss. Your eyes close as he wastes no time, his tongue dancing with yours for dominance but ultimately winning.

“Taste sweet.” You throw your head back once more when Satoru starts to play with your bottom lip, gently running his thumb over it. You take it into your mouth, rolling it around your tongue and sucking on it lightly. You can feel how hard he is in your back, wanting to take care of them like they were taking care of you. You let go of his thumb with a soft pop as Suguru leans up to face both of you and quickly runs his palm back and forth over your clit.

“Please- ‘m- Fuck!”

“That’s it,” Satoru teases, running his tongue up your neck and over that spot that makes you shudder. “Don’t be shy, love.”

“Let it out, Petal. Let us hear you.” He whispers, looking at Satoru whose eyes are fixated on you. He wants to taste you until you scream their names. Nibble at your exposed skin until you’re whining for him to stop. He loves the sex-crazed look you get in your eye when you’re about to cum, especially when it’s directed towards him.

Their faces are so close that Suguru's lips hover not quite touching yours as Satoru is still buried in your neck.

You’re fucking dripping onto the counter, their goal obvious once they catch each other's eyes again and smirk.

“You going to squirt for us, Petal?” Suguru keeps going, hearing you whine but your moans grow louder the moment your body lets go. He leans down, not wanting it to go to waste as his hands slow down but his tongue makes up the work. He continues to lap at your pussy as Satoru watches with sharp lust-filled eyes.

“Taste good?” Satoru asks as Suguru smirks, giving your pussy a lasting kiss before coming up to meet you and Satoru. It doesn’t take long for Satory to grip his chin to tug him closer. Running his tongue from his chin to his mouth before making out and tasting you all on Sugur’s tongue. Satoru moans into the kiss as Suguru deepens it, all the while, you try to catch your breath before leaning forward to rub Suguru through his boxers.

“Fuck…” Suguru gasps, feeling you lap at his neck while Satoru still has his tongue in his mouth.

This is fucking heaven and god, he doesn’t want to break this.

“Beg for it,” Satoru smirks, pulling away from Suguru but keeping him close enough to feel his breath on his lips. “Beg us to take care of you.” You give Suguru’s cock a gentle squeeze before leaning back against Satoru’s hard chest.

Suguru closes his eyes, swearing he could cum right now. Your gaze is so intense that he knows he’s going to be in for it once you get back to the room.

“Satoru. Petal. Please touch me.” He’s practically begging both of you to do what you want with him.

“You think that was good enough, Peach?”

You grin, pushing him down to kneel in front of you.

“I think you can do better than that.”

Satoru hums as both of you stand in front of Suguru with wide grins on your face.

“I know he can too. Guess we’re going to have to fuck it out of him, right Suguru?”

And god, does Suguru's mind grow completely cloudy just thinking about it.

He can’t fucking wait.

#❛ 🌷 𝚌𝚢𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜 🖊 ❜#suguru geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #suguru geto x gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo saturo #geto suguru #geto x reader #suguru geto #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #satosugu #suguru x reader x satoru #jjk

220 notes · View notes

imagineweasley · 4 months ago

Text

welcome and masterlist!

hi everyone!! my name is bee and welcome to my blog! i write harry potter fanfics on here (oneshots and drabbles but i like to call them blurbs) and you'll see that i tend to write more about certain characters than others (cough cough fred and remus), but i am open to writing about all characters! most of my fics are fluff but also some angst depending on how i'm feeling that week, and some smut scattered throughout. now that i've written quite a few things, i've decided to put together a masterlist, sorted by character. hopefully this will be helpful in seeing the things i've put out!

inbox is always open so if you don't see something in here that you'd like me to write, i'd LOVE for you to shoot me a request!!

alright, enough rambling. happy reading, and i hope you enjoy!!

color key: angst fluff/happy smut platonic * = included in two lists

masterlist by era & character (see below)

・゜: ☆.。: 。 g o l d e n t r i o e r a ・゜.・☆ . ・゜☆

fred weasley: more than chocolate frogs: bf fred, fluff; fred decides that you've been studying too hard and decides to surprise you.

*the price of pumpkins: platonic fic with fred and george; you and the twins face a unique punishment when you get caught after a particularly entertaining prank

fred weasley's remedy to nail biting: bf fred; fred helps you with your habit of nail biting and skin picking

after fred: bf fred and platonic george, sad and angsty; you and george help each other heal after fred dies. please don't read if you don't want to be sad. i made myself insanely sad writing this. [warnings: death, extreme mental illness/grief]

through the lens: husband fred; mr. weasley finds a muggle camera and fred loves taking pictures of you and your newborn baby, little arthur.

bludgering to you: during a quidditch match, fred gets a bit too competitive and crashes into you. he didn't believe in all the clichés about love at first sight before, but as soon as he lays his eyes on you, all that changes.

george weasley: bf george blurb: fluff about george being obsessed with you

*the price of pumpkins: platonic fic with fred and george; you and the twins face a unique punishment when you get caught after a particularly entertaining prank

harry potter: i love you deerly: fluff fluff fluff very fluffy; you have a moment along with harry after a DA meeting

our scarred hands: fluff, angst; harry tends to your wounds when you get detention for a week with umbridge and form a connection while you help each other heal [warnings: inflicted injury]

we'll be alright [ft. "fine line" by harry styles]: bf harry, angst with a happy ending; a oneshot written to the song "fine line" about the fear, desperation, and relief you feel the moment harry defeats voldemort and pushes through the crowd to get back to you. [warnings: mentions of death and grief]

draco malfoy: steal my girl: bf draco, fluff and angst but with happy ending; based on the lyrics of "steal my girl" by one direction!! a fun little experimental (long) thing i decided to do. [warnings: violence, injury, mention of death]

neville longbottom: shy neville bf blurb: fluff; you're the one who brings out chatty neville

through pinky promises (two pt series): a oneshot and an epilogue about neville taking care of you after a bout of torture from the carrows, and an epilogue of life with him after the battle.

through pinky promises: bf neville, angst, fluff; neville helps nurse you back to health after you have a nasty encounter with the carrows [warnings: physical abuse, injury]

through pinky promises (epilogue): bf neville, very slight angst, mostly fluff; life with neville after the battle when everything is alright again. things are peaceful again. [mention of past violence (battle of hogwarts), mention of scars/injury]

seamus finnigan bodyguard series: when harry goes off to track down and destroy the horcruxes, he assigns seamus to protect you, his little sister. things brings you a seamus closer together, especially you end up having to go into hiding.

bodyguard (pt. 1): friends to lovers, moving towards lowers towards end. pretty angsty (i mean it does take place during deathly hallows) [warnings: violence]

harry and ginny *29 years later: i don't even know i count this as fluff, bittersweet angst i guess; parallel between james and lily, harry and ginny

misc golden trio era drabble how each golden trio era character acts when they lay their eyes on you for the first time (pt. 1)

★゜・。。・☆ m a r a u d e r s e r a ゜。。゜☆

sirius black: puppy love series: a series on you and your friends' journeys to becoming animagi, not knowing that the marauders are also. sirius is straight up pining after y/n and catches onto what they are doing.

puppy love (pt 1): slow burn, some fluff and pining.

puppy love (pt 2): slow burn

puppy love (pt 3): traces of fluff and sirius being all flustered because of how in love he is with you

sirius blurb: everyone thinks sirius is a player, but they don't know that it's an act to cover up his feelings for you.

remus lupin: soundproof (or not): this is straight up smut, people. 18+, mdni [warnings: uhhhh lots of smut]

bf remus blurb: fluff; remus and his scars and how you make him love them [warnings: mention of scarring]

sirius black's guide to overreacting: bf remus, older brother sirius, fluff, comedic reference to "friends" when ross finds out about monica and chandler; you and remus have been dating for a while in secret. sirius finds out and all hell breaks loose.

bf remus blurb: fluff; you and remus have matching scars [warnings: scars]

peter pettigrew: bf peter blurb: the boys love teasing peter about you

james and lily: *29 years later: i don't even know i count this as fluff, bittersweet angst i guess; parallel between james and lily, harry and ginny

narcissa and xenophilius: love in the shadows: friends to lovers, fluff

#bee buzzes #masterlist

45 notes · View notes

punkpandapatrixk · 1 year ago

Text

Full Pink Moon in Scorpio ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

Hey, was your Full Pink Moon in Scorpio great on the 24th/25th of April? It took me a couple of days to realise there was an active shedding and releasing of A FUCKTON of black magick and karmic debris from the collective of people tuned into this PAC. That shedding and releasing was by Divine Mandate, so that’s good to know hahah

After the Full Moon, have you been feeling lighter now? Brighter in the mind? Clearer about your purpose, maybe? More motivated to take the next step? Kinda ironic because Scorpio is the darkest sign of all. But hey, seeds need to break in the dark for them to grow into plants, trees, fruits and flowers, right?

This Full Pink Moon in Scorpio is really associated with rebirth, plant magick and wishing for a victorious blooming of our desires. Scorpio is also a sign associated with the underworld, death and ancestors. Did you know people born with significant Scorpio influences in their birth chart were often born shortly after some death had occurred within the family/bloodline?

Since the Full Pink Moon has passed, have you been feeling the call of your ancestors? You’ve got a huge family of great and wise ancestors you’ve never even met in this incarnation watching over your spiritual development. Each of them loves you and honour all the spiritual work you’ve done in this incarnation. The ripples of your lightwork go beyond what you can comprehend at this moment.

Listen carefully with your pretty heart~ Your ancestors and Spirit Guides are currently very active in guiding you towards your most exciting chapter yet! Stomp forward confidently, babes~!

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Let’s Go Far Away! Far From All the Dra-mama-mama~

s h e d d i n g – Queen of Pentacles Rx

You are not taking anybody else’s karma as yours anymore. You’re done. Fucking done with spiritually taking care of everybody who isn’t even aware of their bullshit karmic load. And on top of that, you’ve been known that these fuckers ain’t ever gonna be grateful anyway. So, why should you bother? You learnt the hard way, didn’t you? Now you’ve truly become a spiritual boss bitch. You ain’t vibing with Love and Light anymore—not like that, at least. You understand now that the whole ‘love and light’ consciousness has been weaponised to neutralise the power of those who can defeat EVIL consciousness.

Now, you understand people are fully responsible for their own healing; for how they react to what’s happening around them and for their own choices. Even their points of view are theirs. You’re not participating in anybody else’s drama anymore. No amount of empathy will ever make you stupid again. That was your decision quite a long time ago and now that resolve has become SOLIDIFIED. Welcome back, spiritual gangster. You’re YOU again~ Now, we watch you quantum jump into your greatest abundance Reality yet!

t r a n s f o r m i n g – 9 of Pentacles Rx

I feel like you’ve been in isolation of sort for quite a while, right? Or at least, there’s a clear indication that you’ve not been in communication with too many people. Your ancestors gave you that push to be alone and to clear your aenergetic field from a lifetime’s worth of bullshit you’d absorbed from other people. During this time, you were shielded from further psychological attacks from your environment. But at the same time, you were also being given clear guidance about your next steps.

Your visions and daydreams are not random, so this Full Pink Moon is giving you more reasons to believe all of your gut feelings about your place in the world—about what you’re put on Earth to pursue and manifest. When you’re excited, make sure you share your good news with ONLY those you feel are vibrationally safe to share with. People you know won’t have any business being envious of your progress. Otherwise, keep moving on in silence, dear ghost~ You’re about to become reborn into real riches!

g l o w u p, BITCH – 6 of Wands Rx

The whole aenergy of this Pile is abundance and material riches. I’m being told, you’re building a massive Empire that’s based on real spirituality. An empire that will serve a great number of people and how that contributes to not only your material security but also to the prosperity of all involved with your projects/spiritual work in the future. With that said, your success is needed by the world! You’d better believe there’s no force on Earth strong enough to mess this up.

Your ancestors, in fact, have been setting you up for this success for literally aeons. Even from the aethers they’re still very much actively making this happen. It’s a family project, babe~ You’ve got important codes stored in your DNA—you bloodline is special. One way or another this will continue to get revealed to you through various means your ancestors can think of ;P Your physical beauty, physical prosperity, physical safety and everything is quantum jumping into a much higher octave of Reality.

You’ve set up the foundation well. You’ve sacrificed a lot with so little guidance. Congrats again, welcome Home to 5D Consciosuness~!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Hello? Ordering From Future Express~

s h e d d i n g – Page of Pentacles

You’ve been in the process of learning (or preparing) for a big change in your Life. This Full Pink Moon, if anything, is just indicating that you’re ready to mingle in the higher level of whatever you’re graduating from. Rather than becoming a student, you’re becoming an actual employee, worker, or expert at this thing you’ve been studying/preparing for. You have a lot of knowledge that’s ready to be shared by those who can benefit from your work. So, congrats~!

Of all the Piles, I sense your journey thus far has been pretty much lighthearted. It isn’t to say some traumatic things haven’t happened, but no matter your age, you’re such a wise optimist. You’re the type that can always say, ‘Oh well, I did learn and gain valuable lessons from it.’ You have an awareness of your surrounding and the events that visit your everyday Life, so you’re not often bothered to the degree some of the other Piles are XD

t r a n s f o r m i n g – Knight of Cups Rx

I sense that many of you reading this have been in the active process of manifesting a new kind of Reality. You’ve daydreamed and fantasised a lot—too much, sometimes LOL But I’m getting that your heart is literally constantly pulled in that direction because you’re literally that close to manifesting this Reality. Of course, when we say ‘close’, some of you may wonder how that’s even possible because you don’t feel like you’ve done a lot.

But I’m being told that your manifestation is heavily ‘water based’, meaning it is highly based on the emotions produced during your daydreaming~ As long as you maintain the feeling, the optimism, the feel-good vibes from those daydreams, you’re GUARANTEED to get every single thing you’ve envisioned for yourself. I betcha you have significant Water sign placements or planets in Water Houses in your natal chart :D

g l o w u p, BITCH – 5 of Cups

I know that recently you feel like you’ve lost something important. Although you’re positive and optimistic, it’s only natural that people can still dwell in the negative emotions caused by the shock of any kind of loss. You can take your time. But also know that this Full Pink Moon is promising you a way to rebuild or rediscover in another form what you’ve lost. What’s been lost or broken will be renewed and you will be a lot happier.

By this, the general message is that you have so much good fortune and success in the future. It’s almost like, your daydreams have been ordered from the future express and delivered to your doorstep as feel-good thought-forms. For now, they may be only thought-forms, but you’re being directed to the right place, so don’t lose sight of those visions, OK? For the most part, I think most of you already know this—you just needed some kind of a validation ^o^v

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Calm in the World, Lucky Girl~

s h e d d i n g – 7 of Swords

Ooohhh my lucky guuurl~ You’re the lucky Pile, but actually, you’ve worked really hard to increase your luck quotient in this world! Of all the Piles, you’ve transmuted a lot of karmic bullshit in your bloodline—things like toxic mindsets which were passed down by your elders. I think you’ve worked the hardest to transform yourself whilst carrying generational bullshit which you vowed would stop with you, because you wouldn’t want these mindsets or ways of living to be passed down to the next generations.

And in your case, I get that you’re not just thinking about your own bloodline; you’re also thinking about stopping these toxic ways of living and being for all people belonging to your generation and the next. You’re thinking global—you’re thinking cosmic. This Pile is definitely for those of you who identify as being a witch or a mystic or something similar in nature. You are now shedding ugliness. All the ugliness in the ways you were brought up.

t r a n s f o r m i n g – 9 of Cups

No matter when you come across this reading, within just a couple months your abundance level is going to visibly get better. This sense of abundance is going to be real—not just a mindset thing—it’s going to be physical. You’ve been working so hard for so long on the mental and spiritual level, and in many cases, you might’ve felt like your spiritual work hasn’t produced anything tangible at all. And this could’ve often dimmed your light and made you cry, because it felt like your struggles were never going to end.

You were going in circles, but babe, you were always spiralling up out of that hell that was created for you. I think you just didn’t realise that. The path was never straight; it was a spiral in which you were spiralling and meeting old wounds and healing them, but the whole time, you were spiralling UP! Okay? The exit is close. Dang, many of you tuning into this are already out! The real physical abundance is following along tightly. Look forward to this year’s Lion’s Gate, Wise Ones~! You’ll be surprised! <3

g l o w u p, BITCH – 10 of Wands

In the deck I’m using, 10 of Wands depicts an array of soldiers who’ve just finished warring. They’re back home now, exhausted, traumatised, needing a lot of care and ease after a long battle, and are probably still in a war mindset after being in it for quite some time, right? But the important thing is that they’re home; that the war is OVER. It is OVER. It’s peacetime now. You’ve just got to celebrate all you’ve done for your country (yourself) and relish in a good bowl of soup to soothe your aching heart.

Recuperation and relaxation are crucial for you right now. You need all the TLC you could give to yourself, so in that sense, if there’s somebody who could be of some assistance to you, don’t hesitate to ask for help so your Life can be a little easier. For the time being, you need to be taken care of. Sooner than later, you will be jumping into a different kind of an exciting bandwagon straight to your Destiny~ Then, you can help others~!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]